I wouldn’t have survived WFP without the support of my husband. My work in WFP mostly entails a bumpy vehicle ride to the site; and walking under the hot Mindanao sun or on muddy road to visit, say, a school, an evacuation camp or a food-for-work project. Ordinarily this would translate to painful muscles and creaking joints if done for a day; and if done for days in succession could also translate to physical sickness and drained spirits.
At any given day before sunrise, Jun is already in front of
the blender whipping up something.
Minutes later that would mean a glass of raw vegetable juice waiting for
me on the table – today it could be juice from malunggay[1],
another day chayote, then turnips, radish, cucumber, tomato, carrots, any combination
of at least two plus a long list of many more.
I gulp it down, knowing fully that if there is anything
undesirable to the taste, I will only have to deal with it for at most, only 10
seconds – but would be what I need to prop me for a grueling 8 hours ahead. After a day’s work, it’s another glass of
juice of whatever fruit is in season: mangosteen, pomelo, guava, papaya, etc.
Jun comes from a family engaged in the medical profession. Being his father’s namesake (Benjamin), Jun was
expected to be the doctor in his generation.
From my side, my own family depended so much on the medical profession
as well. Jun’s parents separated while
he was in medical school; my own mother succumbed to breast cancer when she was
38. I grew up thinking I’ll be dead,
too, at 38. Our own perfect images of
family were both shattered.
As husband and wife, our quest for a solid family translated
to near hypochondria – always afraid of getting sick. We fussed so much on ourselves and the children,
making frequent visits to every specialist at the first signs of discomfort;
making sure all prescriptions are bought.
Thus, there we were, “poppin’
pills and sippin’ syrups” – with oftentimes, only short relief. A big percentage of whatever little we both earned
went to vitamins, energy drinks, food supplements, doctor's fees, medicines and hospital bills. We realized it was not the way to live our
life.
For some reason in our 27 years of being together, I had to
work and Jun stayed at home. He cooked
while I drove the family car. As if to break stereotypes further, Jun
became interested in iridology in the late 90s.
Sensing it was just the surface,
he went on to do self-study on this lesser-known science and affirmed that
indeed, something was greatly hidden from humans.
“It seems that the problem is not what we eat,” he often says. “It’s what we do not eat.”
According to him, we no longer eat vegetables; vegetables in
its God-created state -- raw , pure, fresh, whole and natural.
“Yes, we eat vegetables,” he continues, “but also with
everything else that’s not vegetable: oil, salt, sugar, seasoning, butter, cream,
etc. We also have to cook it, make it
look pretty and taste heavenly so that we will consume everything. Aren’t we just feeding only our senses?”
“Why not feed the body?” he asks. “And the best way to feed the body is through
juicing. Less chewing, less effort,
immediate results because from your stomach it goes straight to your
bloodstream. Your blood carries all the
life-giving nutrients to your cells, empowering your cells to get rid of all
wastes. Your lungs become strong enough
to collect and expel mucus; your colon becomes strong enough to expel stools,
and so on and so forth. With clean
insides, can disease still set in?”
“By drinking vegetable juice (unpeeled, unpitted) early in
the morning,” he continues, “your vegetable requirements for the day are already
covered. Then you can eat everything
else.”
Life has been like that in the Gulo household since the year
2000. The concepts are so simple even
for the children to understand, which they relate to what they learn in school
which in turn provides lively conversations at the dinner table. And interestingly, we no longer have a
medicine cabinet because not one single tablet can be found in the house. Yes, we do see a doctor, but these visits are
very few and far between.
Jun has been called names, sometimes condescendingly: Dr
Gulay (his father was Dr Gulo), Mr Malunggay, Doctor Nature – but he doesn’t
mind – and gulay in the dialect means
vegetable. “I’m just helping my family, friends,
and friends of friends how to eat, re-discovering what our ancestors have
learned over thousands of years. I can’t
confine myself to 5-year old or so researches of pharmaceutical industries.”
For me, I’ve been chided too, for not making full use of my
health insurance. Some even call me
“Last (wo)Man Standing” -- maybe for being the last person to get sick. I just smile and keep quiet. Whatever we should have spent for medicines and
hospital bills we can now use for outings in the beautiful nature spots of
Mindanao; plus a little savings.
“Nature has provided us with all that we need from day one,”
Jun concludes. “Sunlight, wind, air,
water, soil. These are nature’s
doctors. And it’s for free. Nature cures – if we give it the chance.”
If it’s so good, why isn’t everyone into it, I pry.
“There’s another element: time. It did not take us overnight, remember?” he
reminds me. “While it takes a short time
for some to understand, it will take long for others. Maybe never.
Let’s be grateful we understood.”
With conversations like this, I look at each day of my work
at WFP with a whole new light. And maybe
that’s not just survival: it’s living life to the fullest.
* * * * *
Worth giving it a try.thanks.
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