Do not call us indigents
A HANDFUL of women, the all-female officers of the Asosasyon Kilos Kababayen-an sa Maa Inc. Homeowners Association or Akkmihoa, are like rafters steering through the rapids of Davao River. Some of the women have college diplomas, but most have modest educational attainment – elementary graduates, highschool dropouts. Some of them are dependent on their husbands' earnings while others earn by doing the laundry of other people or by running a sari-sari store in the neighborhood.
Together, this feisty and spirited bunch of women living in this urban community at Maharlika Village in Maa has taken the lead role in buying a 6000-square-meter lot that will be home to some 30 households.
“Tan-aw man gud nila sa amo diri indigent (They look at us as indigents),” says Judy Tion, a 50-year-old mother of two and chair of Akkmihoa´s Board of Directors for the past five years. “Sakit man na sa amo. Dili man ta dapat ingnon nga indigent. Bisan sa association, dili ta mo-ingon nga hugpong sa mga kabus, kay murag diha lang ta kutob, wala tay plano (It hurts to be called that. We are not indigent. Even in association names we should not be calling ourselves associations of the poor because it seems to say that´s all we can ever be),” Judy explains, her stance akin to a dog who has just given birth to a litter of puppies.
Sometime in 2005, the ´indigents´ proved their mettle: after two years, they paid off their collective debt of one million pesos, which was loaned out at an annual interest rate of 9 percent. The money was used to buy the land that was subdivided into smaller residential lots, the smallest area measuring 50 square meters.
Urban Sanctuary
The woman of Akkmihoa have long dreamed of owning the piece of land their families have been occupying in Barangay Maa, ever since they became recipients of the community outreach program of the University of Mindanao Community Extension Services Office (Ceso) since the late 1990s. The women´s earlier efforts with Ceso, which focused on community development trainings and seminars like value formation, leadership training, cooperativism and bookkeeping has given them some impetus but did not bring them what they have yearned, that is to own the piece of land they have been occupying in Barangay Maa.
Through the connections of one member of the Board, the women came to know about the alternative housing project of San Lorenzo Ruiz Socio-Economic Development Foundation, Inc. (Salorsedfi), a non-government organization operating in Davao City that had for its main objective 'to address the worsening urban poor problems of the City'.
Hence, in September 2003, Barangay Maa became the pilot area of the Urban Sanctuary Support and Guarantee Fund project of Salorsedfi and Akkmihoa was the target beneficiaries. Salorsedfi facilitated the Direct Negotiated Purchase of the property of Mr. Raul Villegas after the Association failed to meet the requirements of the Community Mortgage Program (CMP) of the National Home Mortgage Finacne Corporation (NHMFC).
In September 2003, Akkmihoa purchase the land at P1.5 million. The P500,000 came from the Akkmihoa´s ´forced´ savings and P1 million was loaned from the Peace and Equity Foundation (PEF), and NGO that released to San Lorenzo Ruiz Socio-Economic Development Foundation, Inc. (Salorsedfi) which acted as guarantor for the loan.
Aside from the P1 million loan, PEF also provided an additional grant fund of P308,040 for institutional support.
No Cinderella story
Akkmihoa accomplished what it should, however, this isn´t a wholly success story.
Three Akkmihoa officers had to pass up the opportunity having their own homelets. Of the 42 original members who signed up for his housing opportunity, only six homeowners continued to pursue their membership with Akkmihoa. The rest have passed on to other interested individuals who could afford to pay the monthly amortization. It was clear to them that the collective financial obligation has to take precedence over the individual's dream of owning a piece of land.
Carmelita Bangquerigo, 31, had to back out. She could no longer affort to set aside 1,363.75 a month, the amortization for the 100-square-meter lot that tshe dreamed of owning. Her husband's job with a construction company is seasonal, and three of her four children are in school.
The second case is Fely Alvarez, a post modern ´grandma who lives in a shoe´. On a 135-square-meter lot, 66-year-old Fely is Matrarch to eight children (with their respective spouses) and 30 grandchildren. The Alvarez residence is like a poor man´s Harlem: sprawling over the whole lot, the house is sectioned into nine rooms, one family occupying each room; in the middle is a tiny space where a single faucet drips and where they do their laundry.
Since Fely depends only on whatever amount her children could give her, one of her daughters had to sign up for the Land Acquisition Project. But the daughter, a sidewalk vendor, could hardly cope with the monthly amortizations. She eventually had to give up.
The same reason compelled Adelina Alarcon to withdraw. She was sending two of her children to high school, herself earning an income as a laundrywoman. Her husband drives a trisiboat (a tricycle run by a pumpboat engine), sometimes bringing home only P60 a day.
Despite having withdrawn from the project, Carmelita, Fely and Adelina continue to be active officers of Akkmihoa. Like Judy, Adelina has been serving as Akkmihoa´s vice-president for the past years. Carmelita and Fely both serve as members of the Board of Directors.
"Nagpadayo gihapon mi sa among obligasyon sa asosasyon. Amo lang gi-sakripisyo para sa ila (We continue to carry out our obligations with the association. This is our sacrifice for them)," Adelina says.
Indeed, Akkmihoa is a true success story.
For Akkmihoa´s women leaders, hope is like an early-morning mountain fog that brings the promise of a brighter day.Anna Mae Morallas