A NATIONAL PRAYER FOR MERCY AND RENEWAL

A NATIONAL PRAYER FOR MERCY AND RENEWAL

I write to you now as a fellow citizen of this nation—haunted, hopeful, and heart-weary all at once. The prayer penned by Fr. Tito Caluag is not simply a ritual recitation, it is a mirror held up to our collective condition: we are, as he writes, “like a stray sheep that has fallen from the cliff, clinging desperately to a brittle branch, crying out for rescue.”

Is that too harsh? Perhaps. But is it untrue? I don’t believe so.

The Valley of Darkness

We live in a time of dual sorrow: the visible wounds of calamity, and the less visible but deeper wounds of corruption, silence, compromise. Fr. Caluag names both. He speaks of floods, earthquakes, fires and typhoons—of a people battered, vulnerable. He also points to budget insertions depleting funds for the poor, political dynasties acting as modern feudal lords, infrastructure that robs us of progress.

And the data backs him. According to a recent survey, 97 % of Filipinos believe corruption is “very widespread” or “somewhat widespread” in government. The Transparency International Corruption Perceptions Index in 2023 gave the Philippines a score of 34 out of 100 — ranking us 115th out of 180 countries. If you feel we are drowning, the statistics agree.

Mercy & Renewal—More Than Words

Fr. Caluag beseeches mercy: “Have mercy on us, O God, according to Your steadfast love!” This line (citing Psalm 51:1) is a confession—not only of our faults, but of our longing to be different. But here is my observation: mercy without renewal becomes a thin band-aid over a festering wound. If we cry “Lord, have mercy,” but do not allow that to change our behavior, we remain stuck in the same valley.

He continues: “You have told us … to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with You” (Micah 6:8). So let me ask: how often have we walked humbly? How often have we loved mercy in our dealings—with neighbors, officials, contractors, ourselves?

The Cost of Silence and Compromise

Fr. Caluag’s list of sins is not melodramatic—it is everyday: bribing fixers, tolerating lies in the media, accepting donations from exploiters, covering injustice with silence. These are our sins; they are my sins; they are the sins of a society that often opts for convenience over courage.

What’s worse, the wounds we inflict upon ourselves are deep. Consider the Philippine Statistics Authority’s data: in 2024, there were 225 occurrences of small-scale natural hazard incidents, the most frequent being flash floods (23.6 %). These disasters compound when infrastructure is substandard or funds are misused. The prayer’s lament about substandard infrastructure is therefore not hyperbole but reality-checking.

Hope in Action

But—and this is the pivot—the column does not end in despair. Fr. Caluag says: “We have failed, but we will not lose hope.” I echo that. Because recognition is the first step toward renewal.

What does renewal look like? From my vantage point it means:

• Transparency and accountability: Officials and citizens alike must be willing to be held to account. The CPI ranking shows how far we are—and that the global average is 43, while ours is 34.
  
  

• Civic courage: We must stop being comfortable with silence and complacency. The prayer’s call to “breathe into us courage to rise above greed and power” is a challenge to each of us.
  
  

• Prioritizing the weakest: The survival of the weakest, not just the strongest, must be the mark of our humanity. Our policies, our compassion, our reforms must bear that out.
  
  

• Walking humbly, loving mercy: Beyond the big headlines are daily choices—will I bribe? Will I tolerate the lie? Will I cover injustice? Will I spend one moment caring for someone weaker than myself?
  
  

• Faith that transforms: The prayer roots renewal not in mere strategy but in the Holy Spirit—“Come, Holy Spirit, renew … the face of our nation!” The spiritual dimension matters, because moral renewal precedes structural reform.
  
  

Questions I Must Ask—And You Must Ask

• If nearly 97 % of our people believe corruption is rampant, what does that mean for our democracy and our civic trust?
  
  

• If disasters hit us again and again, and our infrastructure and budgets often fail the test—can we afford to keep things as they are?
  
  

• If the nation is rich in resources, yet many remain poor, what breaks the cycle: stronger institutions or deeper personal integrity—or both?
  
  

• And finally: as the citizen reading this column, am I part of the solution—or part of the problem?
  
  

A Closing Word

Fr. Tito Caluag’s prayer is not merely spiritual—it is social, political, moral and national. It invites us to stand before the Shepherd of our country, confessing our brokenness, but also committing to renewal.
In the language of a newspaper column: our nation is crying out. The rescue branch is brittle, yes—but the Shepherd reaches. The question is: will we cling? And will we climb?

Let us hope, pray, act. Because mercy and renewal are not luxuries—they are necessities for our national life.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/04-08-2026

USING SOLAR-POWERED SATELLITE PHONES

USING SOLAR-POWERED SATELLITE PHONES

When all else fails—when the power grid collapses, cell towers go silent, and the internet goes dark—what remains? In times of disaster, the humble satellite phone becomes the last line of communication, the invisible thread connecting rescuers, survivors, and command centers. But what happens when even electricity is gone? That’s where the solar-powered satellite phone comes in—a simple but powerful solution to a very Filipino problem: unreliable power and unreliable signals.

Satellite phones, as we know, don’t depend on terrestrial cell towers. They link directly to satellites orbiting Earth, making them indispensable in disaster-prone countries like ours. Typhoons, earthquakes, and volcanic eruptions can take down the best fiber optic lines and the strongest telecom towers—but not the sky. However, as practical as these phones are, they still need energy. During the onslaught of Typhoon Haiyan (Yolanda), communication breakdowns delayed relief operations for days. That’s why solar kits for satellite phones are a must-have for every emergency response team, police outpost, and coastal barangay.

To be clear, there is no such thing as a satellite phone that runs purely on solar cells. Instead, solar charging kits—like those made by Sunslice, Goal Zero, and Iridium’s own off-grid bundles—allow these devices to be powered anywhere under the sun. The standard kit usually includes a 5- to 20-watt solar panel, a power bank, and adapters that can charge both the satellite phone and other small devices.

In the Philippines, some agencies are already making quiet moves toward this technology. The Department of Information and Communications Technology (DICT), through its programs for Geographically Isolated and Disadvantaged Areas (GIDAs), is deploying solar-powered satellite kits for rural connectivity. The Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) and the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NDRRMC) also rely on satellite phones for emergency coordination—particularly in regions where the first thing that disappears after a storm is the signal.

The Philippine Coast Guard and the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) use satellite systems for patrol and rescue operations. Even the Philippine National Police (PNP), under Memorandum Circular No. 2023-067, mandates satellite communication for field commanders during crises. While these policies don’t explicitly require solar kits, they should—especially since most police detachments in the far-flung areas struggle with electricity.

One local player, iOne Resources, Inc., has been offering “SatLink Enterprise”—a managed satellite network bundled with solar-powered kits designed for off-grid use. It’s a good model for public-private partnerships: the government provides funding, while the private sector provides technical capacity and maintenance.

But here’s where it gets tricky: corruption. Procurement of high-value technology is often tainted by overpricing and kickbacks. It’s not uncommon to hear stories of satellite phones bought at double their real price, or solar kits procured that never get delivered. This is why I suggest bringing blockchain technology into the picture—not as a buzzword, but as a solution.

A blockchain-based procurement ledger, such as those offered by local platforms like Aksyonchain, can record every step of the bidding, purchase, and payment process. The advantage? Transparency. Prices are visible to all stakeholders. Audit trails are immutable. No official can inflate the cost without everyone noticing. In short, blockchain can disinfect the system with sunlight—the best disinfectant of all.

Imagine this: every purchase of a solar-powered satellite kit is logged publicly on a blockchain. The public can see that the phone costs ₱150,000, the solar kit ₱20,000, and the delivery fee ₱5,000—no hidden “miscellaneous” charges. With such a system, we could finally say goodbye to the “commission culture” that plagues disaster preparedness.

Now, imagine if every barangay—from Batanes to Tawi-Tawi—had at least one solar-powered satellite phone. In an archipelago of more than 7,000 islands, such redundancy isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. It would empower local officials to call for help immediately, even when cut off from the mainland. It could even save lives.

The challenge, of course, is funding. Should the Department of Budget and Management (DBM) prioritize this? Should local government units (LGUs) allocate a slice of their calamity funds to procure these kits? I say yes—to all of the above. It’s not just an investment in hardware, but in resilience.

In the age of climate change, where super typhoons are the new normal, we can’t afford to lose communication for even an hour. We have the technology. We have local suppliers. What we lack is political will—and perhaps a little more honesty.

So yes, let’s buy solar-powered satellite phones. But let’s also procure them the right way—powered not just by sunlight, but by transparency. Because when the next big one hits, and all we have left is the sky, that small, solar-charged signal could make all the difference between chaos and coordination.

After all, in times of crisis, a single phone call can save a thousand lives.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/04-07-2026

FROM WASTE PLASTICS TO BUILDING BLOCKS

 FROM WASTE PLASTICS TO BUILDING BLOCKS

Turning waste plastics into building materials is not a new idea at all. But once in a while, something old becomes new again—simply because someone finally does it right. That someone, in this case, is Nzambi Matee, a materials engineer from Nairobi, Kenya, who founded Gjenge Makers.

Her small startup has done something that should make the rest of us—especially our local engineers—pause and reflect. She is converting waste plastic into durable, interlocking building blocks that are reportedly five times stronger than concrete, cheaper to produce, and far more environmentally friendly. And this is not theoretical; her workshop now produces thousands of bricks a day.

Now, let me be honest: I have no reason to doubt her claim. But I do have reason to wonder—why not here?

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Two problems, one solution

Every day, we drown in plastic waste—bottles, sachets, wrappers—clogging canals, poisoning rivers, and filling our landfills. At the same time, millions of Filipino families still live in makeshift houses or informal settlements, waiting for an affordable home that never seems to come.

So, here we are, staring at a solution that hits both targets with one shot: waste management and social housing. We have all the ingredients—tons of plastic waste, a desperate need for homes, and thousands of engineering graduates. What we seem to lack is willpower and support systems.

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The Kenyan example

At Gjenge Makers, plastic waste is collected, sorted, washed, shredded, mixed with sand, melted, and then compressed into molds. The result? Bricks that are light, colorful, strong, and water-resistant.

The company employs local youth and women to collect and process the plastics, helping clean up the city while providing jobs. It’s a textbook case of what we now call the circular economy—turning waste into wealth, pollution into livelihood, and trash into shelter.

Imagine this working in our barangays: plastic waste from homes and markets turned into bricks, tiles, or even road pavers. Local people are employed to collect and process plastics. Barangay halls, health centers, and low-cost homes built from what used to be garbage.

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Why not in the Philippines?

We already have the brains, the problem, and the materials. What’s missing is the bridge between innovation and implementation.

Perhaps our government could help build that bridge:

• The Department of Science and Technology (DOST) could take the lead in developing the technology locally.
  
  

• The Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) could provide the regulatory and sustainability framework.
  
  

• The Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) could connect innovators with manufacturers and buyers.
  
  

• The National Housing Authority (NHA) could become a major customer, using these eco-bricks for social housing.
  
  

• The Department of the Interior and Local Government (DILG) could encourage LGUs to establish micro-factories for plastic-to-brick conversion.
  
  

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Financing and incentives

This is where creative public-private partnerships come in. What if every LGU set up its own “Waste-to-Brick” hub, perhaps with help from the Development Bank of the Philippines (DBP) or Land Bank for soft loans?

What if the government offered carbon credits or tax incentives to companies using recycled materials in their construction projects?

And what if state universities and colleges (SUCs) served as innovation hubs—testing and improving these technologies, then turning them over to local entrepreneurs?

The return on investment here is not just financial. It’s social, environmental, and generational.

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Feasibility in our context

Plastic-based bricks are already being tested in several countries. According to the United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), plastic bricks can cut construction costs by up to 40% and last for decades without structural decay. (UNEP, 2024).

Here in the Philippines, startups like GreenAntz Builders have been doing something similar—mixing shredded plastics into eco-concrete blocks since 2013. But their model still needs scaling up and stronger government backing. If Kenya can industrialize this approach, surely we can too.

The technology is neither complex nor proprietary. What we need is a nationwide program that brings local engineers, scientists, waste collectors, and housing cooperatives into one ecosystem.

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The bigger picture

This is not just about making cheap bricks—it’s about rethinking the life cycle of materials. Each discarded plastic bottle could become part of someone’s home. Each sack of waste could become a livelihood opportunity.

This model could also be expanded to other waste-to-value systems: turning food waste into fertilizer, glass waste into tiles, or rubber waste into playground flooring.

It’s time we stop waiting for foreign startups to solve our problems. We can replicate and even improve on these technologies here—Filipino-style, barangay-based, and sustainability-focused.

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In the end

From waste plastics to building blocks—it’s not just a catchy slogan. It’s a vision of what innovation looks like when guided by compassion and common sense.

If Kenya can do it, why can’t we? The Philippines produces more than 2 million tons of plastic waste each year, according to World Bank 2022. Even if only 10% of that becomes construction material, we could house tens of thousands of families—while cleaning our environment at the same time.

So yes, let’s ask the hard questions:
Why aren’t we doing this already? Who’s waiting for whom? And how much longer must our plastic waste pile up before we finally turn it into homes for our people?

Because sometimes, the solutions to our biggest problems are literally lying at our feet—waiting to be picked up, melted down, and molded into something stronger.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/04-06-2026

NATIVE CHICKENS, ANYONE?

 NATIVE CHICKENS, ANYONE?

When was the last time you heard of a Filipino company—or a scientist—developing a local breed of any animal for purely local needs? I bet it doesn’t come up often. So when I read that Kustods Chicken Breeding Farm in South Cotabato claims to have developed their own “line” of native chickens, I stopped and paid attention. In fact, I believe what they have done isn’t just a “line” but arguably their own breed. And if that’s true, they deserve more than a mere pat on the back—they deserve recognition.

Why this matters

Our so-called “native” chickens in the Philippines are indeed longstanding local stocks—but not truly endemic breeds in the sense of distinct, formally developed genetic lines. As far as records show, none were developed fully by Filipino firms or institutions for commercial breeding in recent decades. A somewhat similar effort: former Agriculture Secretary and former North Cotabato governor Manny Piñol developed a line dubbed “Manok PNoy”, combining imported genetics with local blood, as early as 2013. 

So yes, Kustods’s claim is worth flagging: local innovation, local adaptation, local relevance. We should ask: Is this just marketing talk, or is it genuine breed development? If genuine, what are the implications?

What’s at stake

• Import dependence: We still import many commercial chicken breeds and pay for licensing or importation. Why? If we have locally developed, adapted native breeds, we save money, build local capacity.
  
  

• Food security & sovereignty: A breed developed locally, tailored to local climates, diseases, feed resources, smallholder setups, contributes directly to resilient food systems.
  
  

• Farmer livelihoods: Native chickens are valued for taste, cultural preference, free‐range adaptability. If a local breed can combine those advantages plus improved growth or productivity, farmers win.
  
  

What Kustods claims

According to available information:

• Their native chicken line can be harvested in just 7–8 weeks for meat production.
  
  

• Selective breeding gives choice in color and sex of chicks.
  
  

• Adapted for Philippine climate and smallholder conditions.
  
  

• Ideal for restaurants, meat vendors seeking the “native taste” but faster turnover.
  
  

If these claims hold up under independent verification, that is a step change. Traditional native chickens grow slowly (sometimes 3–4 months) and smaller in size. An accelerated native breed means faster turnover for farmers.

Questions I ask

• What exactly is the genetic basis? Has Kustods published data on growth rate, feed conversion ratio (FCR), mortality, disease resistance compared to commercial broilers or existing native stocks?
  
  

• Are these “native” chickens truly native (local gene pool) or hybrids of imported breeds plus local? Because that affects conservation of native genetics.
  
  

• Will this breed be made affordable for grassroots farmers and cooperatives, not just large operators or urban restaurants?
  
  

• How will the government support this? Should the Department of Agriculture (DA) or the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) step in to certify, propagate, and scale up such breeds?
  
  

• Will the feed formulations remain imported, or can this breed eventually thrive on locally‐sourced feeds (rice bran, copra meal, native forage) thus reducing cost?
  
  

Broader context: native chicken industry

Some data: According to DOST-PCAARRD, native chickens constitute about 46% of the chicken population in the country (~76 million heads) but face major challenges such as unstable supply of slaughter‐ready birds and high mortality (~40%). Native chicken are preferred for their distinct taste and lower fat content.

Also: the Agricultural Training Institute (ATI) has recently been training local specialists in native chicken production in Eastern Visayas. This suggests the government recognizes the value of native chicken, but the innovation gap remains.

Suggestions & pathways

• Government support: DA + DOST to provide certification, R&D support, seed stock distribution of new local breeds like Kustods’s.
  
  

• Farmer access: Ensure chicks are affordable, and that small farms/co-ops can access them. Offer financing/subsidies.
  
  

• Locally adapted feed: Develop feed formulations based on cheap local inputs (rice bran, copra meal, insects) such that the breed thrives without expensive imported feeds.
  
  

• Scaling & branding: Brand native chicken meat from these local breeds—“Philippine Upgraded Native Chicken”—and market to consumers who already prefer native taste, raising premium and farmer income.
  
  

• Research & data transparency: Publish performance metrics so farmers know what they’re getting (growth, FCR, resistance). Also ensure genetic diversity and not undue narrowing of the gene pool.

Yes, native chickens—anyone? Absolutely. If Kustods’s innovation is real, it’s exactly what we need: a Filipino-developed breed that combines the taste and value of native chicken with better production metrics for farmers.

We are not just talking about chickens. We’re talking about innovation, localized food systems, rural livelihoods, and sustainable agriculture. Let’s hope this is not an isolated story, but the beginning of a new wave of Filipino animal‐breeding initiatives—whether in poultry, goats, ducks or whatever.

And to the farmers, scientists, and entrepreneurs: here’s your challenge: How do we make this breed the norm, not the exception?How do we ensure it reaches every barangay? How do we make the Philippines not just a consumer or importer of animals and breeds, but a developer and exporter of its own agricultural genetics?

Native chickens? Yes—if done smart, they might just change the game.

Ramon Ike V. Seneres, www.facebook.com/ike.seneres

iseneres@yahoo.com, senseneres.blogspot.com 09088877282/04-05-2026