Naga Sets Bold New Standard in Disaster Governance: A Whole-of-Community Call to Action

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

In a decisive and visionary move to confront the rising tide of climate threats and disaster risks, the City Government of Naga has redefined the future of local disaster governance.

With the signing of Executive Order No. 016, Mayor Leni Robredo has not only reconstituted the Naga City Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council (NCDRRMC), but has also reshaped it into a more powerful, inclusive, and future-proofed engine of resilience. By bringing in voices from across society—youth, business, agriculture, marginalized groups, and utilities—Naga is boldly declaring that resilience is everyone’s responsibility.

“The changing climate and emerging risks necessitate a stronger, more coordinated structure for disaster risk management. We believe that by involving more sectors, we can build a more resilient city,” Mayor Robredo declared.

This isn’t just a bureaucratic expansion—it is a paradigm shift. It’s a call for every resident, institution, and stakeholder to stand together in anticipation of storms, earthquakes, and other crises that may strike without warning.

A Council That Reflects the Pulse of the People

The expanded council now serves as a microcosm of Naga itself—diverse, dynamic, and united. The inclusion of representatives from the Sangguniang Kabataan Federation, urban poor, education, gender and development, solid waste management, and local business sector, ensures that decisions about disaster response and preparedness are grounded in the lived experiences and priorities of every citizen.

Alongside key department heads, uniformed services, and infrastructure agencies such as the Department of Public Works and Highways, Philippine Army, Philippine National Police, and Bureau of Fire Protection, the council now features utilities like the Camarines Sur II Electric Cooperative and the Metro Naga Water District—a crucial step in ensuring continuity of essential services when disasters hit.

City Councilor Allan Reiz Macaraig, chair of the Sangguniang Panlungsod Committee on Disaster Risk and Resilience, has been named co-chair, joining forces with Mayor Robredo to lead a truly multi-sectoral disaster council.

From Planning to Action: What the NCDRRMC Will Do

The newly empowered NCDRRMC has three core mandates under EO 016:

Rigorous Oversight of Local Disaster Plans – It will approve, monitor, and evaluate Local Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Plans (LDRRMPs), ensuring they remain dynamic and responsive through regular reviews and drills.

Mainstreaming DRRM and Climate Adaptation – Disaster risk reduction and climate change adaptation will now be integral to all development strategies, turning resilience into a cornerstone of sustainable growth and poverty alleviation.

Pre-emptive Decision-Making for Public Safety – When needed, the council can recommend forced or pre-emptive evacuations, enabling Naga to act swiftly and save lives even before a calamity strikes.

Towards a Culture of Resilience

Naga’s approach embodies the “whole-of-community” model long espoused by global experts but rarely implemented in such a comprehensive manner at the local level.

This isn't just disaster preparedness—it’s a movement. It’s a commitment to build a city where farmers are as prepared as firefighters, where students are empowered to lead in times of crisis, and where businesses, barangays, and civil society converge to shield every corner of the community.

In the face of more frequent typhoons, unpredictable weather patterns, and rising seas, Naga is not waiting to be rescued—it is taking charge.

The Message Is Clear

This expansion of the NCDRRMC is not just a policy—it’s a promise. A promise that no voice will be left out of the conversation on survival. A promise that resilience will not be the burden of the few but the responsibility of all.

And it is a message to other cities and municipalities across the Philippines: Resilience starts now. Resilience starts with everyone.

In Naga, disaster risk governance is no longer confined to a committee room. It’s a citywide effort, deeply rooted in collaboration, foresight, and action. And with this bold step forward, the city once again proves that its greatest strength lies in the power of its people—united, informed, and ready.

Beyond the Postcard: A Journey into the Heart of Western Visayas’ Indigenous Cultures

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

Once upon a time, I believed a destination could be fully captured in a single frame—a beach kissed by turquoise waters, a mountain crowned by clouds, a vibrant street market bustling with life. I thought that the most beautiful places were those that looked good in pictures. But travel—real travel—taught me otherwise.

Over time, I began to understand that the soul of a place isn’t found in its views alone, but in its people. In their stories. In the culture they fiercely protect against the tides of change. This deeper awareness turned my wanderlust into a mission—not just to explore, but to listen, to connect, and to honor the guardians of heritage we so often overlook.

My journey through Western Visayas brought this truth to life. From the coastal edges of Negros Occidental to the mountainous heart of Iloilo, I immersed myself in three extraordinary indigenous communities: the Ata of Sagay, the Panay-Bukidnon of Calinog, and the Ati of Barotac Viejo. What I encountered was a tapestry of resilience, identity, and culture that defies time.

Calinog’s Panay-Bukidnon: Guardians of an Oral Empire

In the highlands of Panay Island, far from the din of city life, the Panay-Bukidnon people continue to walk a path rooted in ancestral memory. Also known as the Suludnon or Tumandok, they have withstood centuries of colonization and modernization to preserve their language, Ligbok, and their cultural expressions: the soul-stirring sugidanon (epic chants), the majestic binanog dance, and the exquisite panubok embroidery that speaks in patterns of nature and myth.

In Calinog, I met the family of the late Federico Caballero, a National Living Treasure and a revered chanter who kept the ancient Hinilawod epic alive, word for sacred word. His passing in August 2024 marked the end of an era—but his legacy lives on through his wife Lucia Caballero, herself a fierce cultural matriarch and a recipient of the Unsung Woman Hero award for championing Panay-Bukidnon heritage.

Their village has become a beacon for those who wish to learn—not just about their traditions, but from them. With homestays open to guests, visitors can experience the local cuisine, attend lectures on traditional arts, and witness live performances that span generations. There’s even a School of Living Traditions, where children learn to chant, dance, and sew as their ancestors did, all while attending formal education.

Years earlier, I encountered this same community in Capiz, where I met an elderly couple—Mang Kune and Nanay Modena. She had once been a binukot, a noblewoman kept in seclusion from childhood to preserve her grace and mystique. But the practice has faded. “We sent our daughters to school,” Mang Kune said simply, with no regret—just the quiet realization that traditions evolve, even as they are remembered.

Sagay’s Ata: From River to Ridge, A New Beginning

On the island of Negros, tucked into the highlands of Sagay City, lives the Ata community—a people who once lived by the river, roaming as nature dictated. That nomadic life changed after a catastrophic flood forced them to resettle in what is now known as Purok Ata in Barangay Puey.

Here, they built more than just homes. They built a future—complete with a daycare, a community clinic, and a growing number of houses occupied by families eager to preserve their way of life. Elders have become educators, ensuring the transmission of customs and language. Children are no longer just the future; they are the living continuity of a proud people.

I arrived just in time for Ata Day, their annual celebration every November. There were performances of the inagong courtship dance and demonstrations of pispis, the art of mimicking bird calls. They welcomed us not just as guests, but as witnesses to a culture often pushed to the periphery.

Despite this joyful display, I learned a sobering truth: though many residents value their heritage, only about 30% actively practice it. The celebration of Ata Day, then, isn’t merely ceremonial—it’s essential. It is a line drawn in the sand against cultural erasure. Without it, their stories risk fading into silence.

Barotac Viejo’s Ati: Brewing Identity in Every Cup

In a quiet corner of Iloilo lies Barangay Nagpana, home to the Ati people—a group connected by ancestry to the Aeta of Luzon, the Batak of Palawan, and the Mamanwa of Mindanao. What makes this community remarkable is how they’ve taken something as simple as coffee and turned it into a vessel for heritage.

At Balay Kape Nagpana, the Ati operate a community-run, seed-to-cup coffee enterprise, cultivating robusta beans that thrive in the forested hills surrounding their village. The women handpick and roast the beans with care, producing blends that are as rich in flavor as they are in meaning.

Their signature brew, Kape Miro, is named after the Asian palm civet, which helps ferment the coffee berries in the wild. Before we even took our first sip, we were greeted by a welcome dance and a heartfelt song, both of which recounted the Ati’s own story of struggle, survival, and pride.

Here, culture isn’t preserved in museums or festivals alone—it’s sipped daily, shared among neighbors, and sold to help sustain the community. Their enterprise is more than business. It is defiance. It is dignity.

The Real Treasure of Travel

What struck me most in visiting these three communities wasn’t their costumes or rituals. It was their grace under pressure. In a world that tempts even the strongest cultures to assimilate and forget, the Ata, the Panay-Bukidnon, and the Ati remain steadfast.

They are not relics of the past. They are beacons of identity in a homogenizing world.

For those of us who travel, let us not be content with merely collecting sunsets and selfies. Let us collect stories. Let us sit at the table, share the meal, listen to the chant, and dance to the rhythm of a people who have survived centuries of displacement, neglect, and change.

Let us travel not just to escape, but to engage. Not just to consume beauty, but to protect meaning.

Because in these quiet villages, far from the neon lights and viral reels, lie the true treasures of our nation’s soul. And it is only by stepping into their world—not to change it, but to understand it—that we become part of something greater than ourselves.

And maybe, just maybe, we find a part of ourselves that we never knew was missing.

The Rise of the Real Voices: How the Umalohokan Awards Challenges a Digital World Flooded with Lies

Wazzup Pilipinas!?

In an era where screens dictate reality and falsehood spreads faster than fact, the Umalohokan Awards arrives like a thunderclap across the nation—bold, urgent, and unapologetically necessary.

Born from the vision of Ross Flores Del Rosario, founder of Wazzup Pilipinas, the Umalohokan Awards was never meant to be just another star-studded ceremony. It is a direct answer to a broken ecosystem—one where truth is sacrificed for clicks, where deceit is rewarded with virality, and where influence is bought, not earned.

It is a rebellion in the form of recognition—a defiant spotlight turned away from the fame-hungry and handed instead to the few who use their platforms not to manipulate, but to move; not to sell lies, but to speak truth.

The Umalohokan Awards is for those furious at the erosion of integrity in media. It is for those who believe we deserve better content—and better content creators.

A Return to What Matters: The Modern-Day Umalohokan

The term Umalohokan isn’t just a poetic callback to pre-colonial town criers. It is a symbol of sacred responsibility—of using one's voice to inform, protect, and empower communities.

The awards draw from this ancestral legacy and merge it with modern urgency: to elevate content creators who reject deception and embrace authenticity, advocacy, and accountability.

While others hand out trophies for trending hashtags and millions of views, the Umalohokan Awards does something radical: it asks what did that content do? Who did it help? What truth did it uncover? What change did it spark?

Because virality is no longer enough. Not when people are being misled, manipulated, and divided by digital personalities who mistake influence for immunity.

Redefining Worth in the Creator Economy

The Umalohokan Awards stands apart by refusing to bow to popularity. Instead, it judges through a sharp lens forged from five core values, each rooted in justice, sincerity, and impact.

Advocacy and Purpose (30%)

At the heart of every worthy Umalohokan is a cause that burns through their content. Whether it's environmental justice, voter education, mental health, gender equality, or exposing corruption, their voice is tied to a purpose greater than profit.

This isn’t content for entertainment’s sake—it’s content that pushes society forward, one post at a time.

Community Impact and Reach (25%)

Numbers can be faked. Engagement can be bought. But real impact leaves traces—in communities empowered, minds awakened, lives improved.

The Umalohokan Awards honors those whose digital footprint leaves real-world ripples, whether through civic initiatives, collaborations with marginalized groups, or campaigns that led to actual reform.

Authenticity and Integrity (20%)

In the Umalohokan framework, truth is non-negotiable. Winners are held to the highest standards of transparency and ethical conduct.

Are they honest about sponsors? Do they push back against disinformation? Do they promote informed discourse or inflame division for likes?

Integrity, not influence, is the new currency of credibility.

Storytelling Excellence (15%)

Stories shape culture. They can either divide or unite. The Awards recognizes creators who craft narratives that connect—deeply, boldly, and responsibly.

From digital documentaries to reels, blogs, or podcasts, the emphasis is on content that educates, uplifts, and challenges, not just entertains.

Commitment to Engagement and Growth (10%)

The Umalohokan is not a title won once—it is a calling that demands continuous growth. Awardees are expected to remain active contributors to their communities, mentoring others, supporting causes, and responding to the needs of the people they represent.

More Than a Trophy: A Call to Action

What sets the Umalohokan Awards apart is its refusal to be passive.

Winners are not crowned for prestige alone—they become part of the Umalohokan Network, a nationwide collective of responsible content creators committed to rebuilding trust in media.

They’re tasked with going beyond screens—to speak in schools, collaborate with NGOs, lead campaigns, and most importantly, keep the flame of truth alive.

These are not digital idols. They are digital revolutionaries.

Recognizing the Voices Silenced by Systems

The Umalohokan Awards doesn’t just challenge the mainstream—it creates a new stream altogether. One that recognizes the unseen and unheard:

Indigenous and IP storytellers preserving ancestral wisdom.

Persons with disabilities who challenge stereotypes and promote inclusivity.

Grassroots digital journalists exposing local injustices.

OFWs and migrant creators who fight for dignity across borders.

LGBTQIA+ content creators creating safe spaces in a hostile world.

Youth leaders who refuse to stay silent while the world burns.

In their stories, we find the future of Filipino truth-telling.

The Process: A People's Tribunal, A Nation’s Voice

Anyone can nominate. The public will vote. But final judgment will come from a Council of Umalohokan—a panel of seasoned journalists, educators, advocates, and changemakers who understand the weight of words and the cost of lies.

Nominees must submit a portfolio of work, including a 1-minute “Umalohokan Speech”—a declaration of their mission and reason for being.

Because here, intent matters as much as impact.

The Time Is Now

Our country is at a tipping point—where digital deceit has become normalized, and those who dare to speak truth are drowned in a sea of noise.

But we refuse to be silent. The Umalohokan Awards is not just an answer to a problem—it is the beginning of a revolution.

It is for every Filipino who has said, “Sobra na ang fake news.”

It is for every community that has been misled, manipulated, or maligned by so-called influencers.

It is for every content creator who fights every day to remain honest, even when it’s unpopular.

The Umalohokan Awards is not here to celebrate fame. It is here to reward courage.

To nominate is to declare: Truth still matters. Our stories still matter. And those who tell them with honor must rise.

This is not just an award. This is a movement.

Let the real voices rise.