The Bravest Heart: a Tribute to a Friend

I met him two months ago. But we've not seen each other for what seemed like ages. He became my friend when, in 1997, he helped me run a school I had established in 1991. It was FVR term, and as Fidel Ramos, 12th president of the Philippines, was preparing to leave office, the economy burst into overdrive. The country was touted to be on the way out of the IMF as a debtor-country for the first time ever, and the stand-by fund made available to the country for good-credit performance was rejected by this president.

Mar Castillo’s 10-month stint with our school proved to be our most successful run at that point in time. It was not hard convincing him to be the COO (Chief Operating Officer) because he was dealing with the debilitating effects of diabetes at the time and was out of a job. His status was a stark contrast to what it was barely a year before – he was a man on top of his career as a topnotch sales manager for a water purification system.

But things took a downturn at the onset of his diabetes. It was a blessing that his 2 daughters finished school at about this time, one graduating from UP, the other from Dela Salle. How he managed to do this in a climacteric point in his life is a testament to skill and savvy in resource generation.

I have seen a lot of rich guys who did not or could not spend the way he did. Mar spent in wild abandon for friends, whom he entertained lavishly at their home in Tiaong, Quezon. This, owing to the fact that he led a ‘singles’ life, his marriage having foundered many years earlier. Not a few abused Mar’s generosity, and I told him so.

As he lay in bed in excruciating pain, I told him to come work for me as COO of a school. I could not pay him the high salaries of Manila, but he accepted anyway. Maybe he thought he was doing a friend a favor.  Or maybe he thought the fresh air of suburban Sorsogon, an 11-hour drive from Manila at the tip of south Luzon, would be well for his recuperation. I wouldn’t know.

But the fact is that the 10 months that he stayed with us made him well. It also made the school’s financial position sound. So much so that when he left in 1998, in his early 40’s, he was able to go back to his job in Manila, from where he visited us unannounced from time to time, sporting a new car each time. Then it all stopped. I did not see him for close to 10 years until out fateful reunion 2 months ago.

As I knocked on their gate, I could hear his voice asking the maid who it was. I did not notice him right away as I made my way into the front lawn. Then I saw it, from 6 meters away, a gaunt figure of a man on a wheelchair, racing its way towards me. The wheelchair careened as it hit a floor 6 inches above the ground. An emaciated body with the left leg amputated 4 inches below the knee dove to the ground, gave the wheelchair a quick push, then clambered back into its seat. He turned his head up and vigorously repeated: sino yan? Sino yan? Si Perry? (Who are you? Who are you? Are you Perry?)

As I stood motionless, I tried to make sense of this wasted image of the man before me. His left leg ended in a pulp just below the knee. The way he had groped in asking who I was made me realize he was blind somehow. His clothes hung loosely on his skeletal frame. His voice trembled. It could not have been several seconds that I hesitated to answer him, but that seemed an eternity. I was trying my damnest best not to break down into tears. Finally, when I did answer him, it was in the most tranquil way I could muster. Except that my heart bled inside.

Mar’s story however, is one of triumph over great adversity. It is a story of resilience beyond breaking point. Above all, it is courage fit for the bravest of hearts.

Nearly, 10 years ago, when we lost contact, Mar made a successful comeback to his career. He then settled with a common-law wife some years younger than him. His choice alienated him from family and relatives. Over a year ago, Mar’s advancing diabetes rendered him blind.

At first, he was overwhelmed with panic, but his salvation came in the form of a child they adopted at about that time. Again, with no income due to his blindness, he was forced to care for the child as his wife worked menial jobs to sustain their living. Thinking that the child’s very survival was dependent on him for most of the day made him accomplish tasks that an ordinary blind person might not have done. More than anything else, it removed his self-pity because he thought: there is at least one other person in this wretched earth still dependent on me for survival.

Mar’s wife made a living by selling barbeque in the streets. One person approached her, asking if Mar could do the design, construction and supply for a water-refilling station they would invest on, not knowing that Mar had gone blind. She said: yes, he definitely could. They had their first client. And this started their remarkable journey to success.

I had known Mar to have spent some years of school in Mechanical Engineering. Now in the darkness of his vision and solitude of his mind, Mar went over the designs and costs, shooting orders to buy this and that, and to connect them here and there. They finished the work after a few weeks, and when the water-potability test returned a passing mark, my friend’s client was in business. And my friend Mar was out of the rut.

Soon after that, they had heard about a medical mission from America doing the rounds of Quezon province. But they had to deal with a lot of bureaucratic red tape in order to get in line. With a lot of patience, as blind people normally have, Mar was operated on one eye. So now he could see outlines of images as well as brightness of light. This is the reason he made a groping effort to visualize me as I entered their gate 2 months ago.

Out of gratitude, their first client gave them preferential price so now Mar’s wife sells and distributes purified water instead of barbeques. Stretching their income, they bought a motorcycle and placed a sidecar, not only to deliver more containers of water per day, but also to transport the wheelchair-bound Mar to his intended projects. I accompanied him to one project inspection, where I requested him to ride in my SUV. But the wife would hear none of it, and quickly and single-handedly whisked Mar and his wheelchair to their motorbike. As I followed them 4 kilometers to the site, I cried one of the happiest tears of my life.

Mar went there for the finishing stages of construction for the water-refilling station of his second client. The guy, who had invested about half a million pesos is manning the outlet, seemed happy. Mar told me he encountered many technical problems in this project. But it was easier for him to solve them because he could now see what he used to configure only in his head. He also taught his wife to be his technician, installing pipes and fittings and equipment that his frail body could no longer manage to do.

Amid so much adversity, there is a ray of sunshine. Mar and his wife could now afford a yaya (childcare help) for their adopted child. They also employ on-a-need basis, one guy as welder and helper. The child’s biological mother had recently wedded a foreigner and now leads a comfortable life. She sends P5000 pesos monthly, but only for child support. One of Mar’s two daughters has also started sending him a fixed amount to help in his medicine, which cost has sky-rocketed in the past few years. The Speed Center for Leadership, a foundation I support, will also help out, in recognition of Mar’s inspiring ‘brave heart’ and how it has touched people’s lives.

I’m a pragmatist who views Mar’s situation as living on borrowed time. I do not hold false hopes for his recovery. My only prayer for him is to be as comfortable as is humanly possible, considering all the pains his human body has endured so far. And that he serve as a beacon of strength to those of us who are about to throw in the towel. Or jump out the window.

I was with Marco, a staff of my school, when I visited Mar. I had sworn Marco to secrecy, asking him not to tell Mar’s story to the rest of my staff, who know him well. I was not ready to tell his story at that point, and needed more time to discern and imbibe as much of the lessons I could learn from his life journey. 

I hoped that at some point in time I would be the one to tell them of Mar’s story as part of a leadership training of sorts. But I realized his story is for those who find themselves in the abyss and need to be inspired. I now know that that time is now. Perhaps the more appropriate title for my blog should be: “To the Abyss and Back”.