Harong Katutubo: The House That Hope Built in Ginaban

Some of the most inspiring leaders I have met never attended prestigious universities, never occupied high government positions, and never delivered eloquent speeches. They simply chose to serve their people with quiet dedication.

One of them is 33-year-old Rechel Medrano of Barangay Guinaban, Ocampo, Camarines Sur.

I first met Rechel in 2022 during one of our community-based programs on women’s and children’s rights. She spoke softly and smiled shyly, but behind that quiet demeanor was remarkable determination. A full-blooded Isarog Agta, she had accepted the responsibility of becoming the Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representative (IPMR) of Ocampo, giving her community a voice in the municipal government. In a society where Indigenous communities are often unheard, Rechel chose not to complain. She chose to lead.

Over the years, I watched her grow into that leadership role. She actively participated in the Tabang Bikol Movement’s community development initiatives—from the CHED-supported Sustainable Enterprise Development (SED) Program with Mariners Polytechnic Colleges Foundation, to the Kurit Aki children’s project, and the Staying Alive benefit cultural dance production that raised funds for Indigenous community projects. Each activity strengthened not only her confidence but also her commitment to uplift her fellow Isarog Agta.

A few weeks ago, Rechel called with exciting news. Her excitement was contagious. Before I could even greet her, she exclaimed, ‘Ma’am, matutuloy na po ang Harong!’ I could almost hear the smile in her voice. The long-awaited Harong Katutubo would finally become a reality. Volunteers from the Tabang Bikol Movement led by artist Ferdie Demadura had raised enough funds to begin constructing the community’s production center, livelihood hub, and meeting place.

To many people, it may seem like an ordinary community hall. But to the women of the Ilaw ng Kababaihan sa Ginaban, it is a place where they can meet, learn livelihood skills, process and market their products, preserve their culture, and inspire the next generation. It is a place where hope can take root. The project is also a powerful reminder of what volunteerism can accomplish. Artists, educators, researchers, disaster risk reduction advocates, and ordinary citizens willingly shared their time, talents, and resources. The Medrano family even offered part of their land for the Harong’s use for the next twenty years. Nobody asked about politics or recognition. They simply answered a community’s call.

As Board Chair, I have attended countless groundbreaking ceremonies and ribbon-cutting events. Many featured impressive buildings with modern facilities. Yet this modest Harong Katutubo touches me more deeply than many multimillion-peso structures because every peso and every hour of labor came from people who genuinely wanted to help, not from a project driven by politics or controversy

Perhaps it is because this building represents something beyond concrete and steel. It represents dignity, hope, and belonging.

The Isarog Agta are among the original inhabitants of the forests surrounding Mount Isarog. For generations they lived in harmony with nature through hunting, fishing, gathering, and small-scale farming. Today, many continue to face poverty, uncertain ancestral land rights, limited access to education and healthcare, and the growing threats of climate change.

Their situation reminds us that development cannot be measured by economic growth alone. It must also be judged by how we treat those who have long lived at the margins of society. The IPMR system gives Indigenous communities a rightful voice in local governance, but leaders like Rechel demonstrate that representation becomes meaningful only when matched by integrity, compassion, and service.

I also admire Rechel’s decision to register the Ilaw ng Kababaihan sa Ginaban with the Department of Labor and Employment. She came to realize that true empowerment is not about depending on assistance but about building organizations, creating sustainable livelihoods, and preparing future leaders.

For Mariners, this experience reaffirms that education extends beyond classrooms. It means walking alongside communities, respecting Indigenous knowledge, and helping people shape their own future.

Years from now, children may never know who donated the lumber or who mixed the cement. They may never remember the names of the volunteers who spent weekends raising funds and even fixing TBM papers - from Ferdie, the JaimEliza/Lexx accounting group, the TBM Board members and the Mariners Extension office. But every time they gather inside the Harong Katutubo, they will be living proof that kindness, when shared by many hands, can build far more than a building. It can build a future.