Personal Messages

Pearlenne Lawsin:

I'm looking for my father... one thing I have is a letter with his signature sent to us recognizing me as his daughter. His name is Fernando Lawsin, I believe he once married to someone whose last name is Rivas and I believe he has 2 children, his eldest is Jamaica Lawsin I once met her in my younger days but lost connection after she moved from her old place and she has a brother named Shogi Rivas Lawsin whom is based in NY according to ate Jamaica... Maybe you could help me out find my father I believe his in his late late 60's now I just want to meet him. Thanks.

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Anastacia & Paulina:
© by Paulina Lawsin

In July 2008, I traveled to my hometown to meet the mayor to plan out an enterprise project for women. Barugo is a quaint town in Leyte , Philippines. The two-hour trip evoked childhood memories with my mother, Anastacia. Every summer, she would bake native cookies called âroscasâ with the assistance of lady friends then pack them in 50s and 100s in brown paper bags and big tin cans. We sold them during fiestas. She was a single mother, a daughter of a Catholic priest, was orphaned at 7 and was adopted by an aunt. She single-handedly and bravely reared me. My childhood ended on the fateful day of July 22 when my mom died at a young age of 30. I lost my friend, my mentor, my role model, and my mother. I was 10.

For forty years after my mother drowned in the river, I could feel her spirit guiding and cheering me on. I found myself eager to pursue her passions. I dedicated twenty (20) years + of my productive life managing a local NGO . I found my voice when we organized community-based groups to address VAWC ; when we prodded the police, social& health workers to be sensitive to the needs of women survivors. Together with women leaders from the different parts of the country , we sought reforms in the laws, pushed for pro-poor and gender responsive projects and budgets. I found fulfillment in our Empowering Girls that built life skills of about 500 young girls from 19 villages to enable them shape their own future. I enjoyed mobilizing resources to support the education of thirty (30) school age girls from very poor families.

I used my skills to train LGUs in formulating gender responsive plans and budgets and advocating for civil society participation in governance.

And on July 12, 2008, on my 47th birthday, I found myself walking the path of my mother Anastacia to sell my âroscas âdreams with the women micro entrepreneurs. Since then, life was never the same again, for me, the roscas producers and the LGU.

My personal advocacy for peaceful homes and communities expanded to include women economic empowerment. I travel to villages and enjoy meeting people, women in particular . I blog about what I see and feel and posted it on World Pulse. I am happy to get encouraging comments from sisters around the world.

I wish to become a better writer so I can report more from the frontlines. I wish to relate with sisters around the globe to share solutions to stop the vicious cycle of poverty, violence, helplessness and gender inequality. I will continue to weave my dreams for a just and peaceful communities with positive and solutions oriented people. Let the journey continue.

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"I love you, Mom..."

© by Maricel L. Lawsin

Be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
It's a sin to tell a lie
Millions of hearts have been broken
Just because these words were spoken

I love you, yes I do, I love you
If you break my heart, I'll die
So, be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
It's a sin to tell a lie

Be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
If you break my heart, I'll die
So, be sure it's true when you say, "I love you"
It's a sin to tell a lie

My mom just passed away three days ago after her 79 birthday. This was her favorite song. To Mother Lily, who has been a loving friend, a caring nurse and a perfect mother, this song is for you. I love you, Ma. I love you and I will miss you everyday.

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MY PINAY NANAY
© by Emily P. Lawsin


My mother had many names:

“Mama”, “Mommy”, “Lola”, “Grandma”,

“Tia”, “Chang”, “Manang”, “Emma”, “Emang”,

But I just called her: My “PINAY NANAY.”

MY PINAY NANAY,

She could speak Ifugao, Ilongo, Ilocano, Cebuano, Waray-Waray, Kampampangan,

Spanish, Tagalog, AND English,

Thanks to the THREE Pinoy men she married,

And the thousands of U.S. troops stationed in her island province.

MY PINAY NANAY,

She could whip up a dozen lumpias — vegetable and shanghai,

Roll it, paste it, fry it, see you joke with it like a cigar or boto/penis,

And whirl a boomerang bakya/slipper at you all-in-one-breath.

MY PINAY NANAY,

She could cook a feast for seven in as many minutes,

Spread the table with fresh mongo beans, seafood, pinakbet,

Chicken/pork/beef adobo plus tokwa/tofu chicharron sizzling on the side,

Lasagna trays of pancit noodles: Bihon, Canton, Lug-lug, AND Malabon,

Vats of tomato-pasty Menudo, Machado, peanut Karé-karé, and

Dinaguan (“chocolate meat” — ha-ha!)

AND for dessert: platters of steamed Puto, Suman, Kutsinta cakes,

Maja Blanca/corn pudding, baked Bibingka, Biko, Deep-fried Cascaron/donut holes,

And bowls of steaming, sweet coconut-y Ginataan, with ping-pong-ball-sized-bilo-bilo dumplings,

Just like you like them,

And STILL asked you,

“ARE YOU HUNGRY?

YOU BETTER EAT!”

MY PINAY NANAY,

She could, with one hand, twirl a hundred-pound lechon

Over a fiery roast pig spit,

While smoking a Marlboro – BACKWARDS.

Guess a Mah-jong tile’s face with one finger — always her middle –

Sliding underneath. (“Ay, Mah-jong!”)

Filled the house with smells of fried garlic rice, longanisa sausage,

Sliced red tomatoes, and eggs,

So the Pusoy poker players would come back

With much “tong” to help pay for your 18th birthday debut.

MY PINAY NANAY,

She could sew First Communion dresses and Eddie Bauer jackets

Without a McCall’s pattern;

Net, pierce, gut, chop, and can Alaskan King salmon with a blind eye,

Write round-trip tickets to the Philippines,

And cuss-out the neighbor Jones kids

For throwing firecrackers down her white stone chimney,

All with her Tondo accent and ninth grade education.

MY PINAY NANAY,

She stood with a 100-member army (of all of you) in the Mayor’s office,

Demanding in nine different languages

That he give Seattle its historic Jose Rizal Bridge and Park,

Its Pista sa Ngayon, and save the Filipino Community Center

From the light rail wrecking ball and everything else in between.

Then acted like she didn’t speak a lick of English on a Metro Bus

So a greedy seat hog would scoot on over.

MY PINAY NANAY,

She had more power – more PINAY POWER –

Than all of our childhood role models put together.

My Pinay Nanay,

She was down,

She was brown,

She was the Pinay

SUPER-FLY.