Patreng Non on the Intricacies of Being the Face of a Movement

There are plenty of things the world doesn’t know about Patricia ‘Patreng’ Non. While they’re not exactly secrets, her extensive catalog of skills and hobbies include swimming, running, biking, sculpting, mountaineering, whipping up Adobong Marikina (that’s Adobo minus the soy sauce), speaking a little bit of Italian, and adoring Nora Aunor from a healthy distance (her favorite project of the superstar is the 1980 film Bona.) She used to be an art teacher at a small school in Kalibo, too.

Funnily, what initially stood out for us is her casual declaration of not succumbing to an audio streaming service. “Wala akong Spotify. Hindi ako marunong. (I don’t have a Spotify account. I don’t know how to use it),”  she shares chuckling, while also talking about her dream of being a hiphop rapper.

With contemplative eyes and both of her hands pressed against her seat adjacent to us, she recalls this simple gesture that’s been replicated a thousand times—6,700 to be exact, according to the Department of the Interior and Local Government. It may have officially started last April 2021, but her whole background was an integral part of the process to get there.

To no one’s surprise, it was having experienced hunger first hand that fueled Patreng into doing what she did. Similar to millions of Filipinos, her younger years is a familiar tale. “‘Yung childhood ko, mahirap siya sa aming magkakapatid. Product kami ng public school system. Nangungutang kami sa palengke, tapos tuwing sahod lang namin binabayaran. (My childhood was difficult for me and my siblings. We were all products of the public school system. Our family would purchase on credit from vendors in the market so we can eat, then we’ll only pay it off once salary arrives),” she reminisces.

At a time when baseless lockdown variations existed, plenty of things were scarce, and hope was on top of the list. Patreng admits that the [community] pantry was not a solution to hunger. Her only thought at that time was there might be other people, like her, who had extra to give.

Finding a spot proved to be a challenge. She would go to different places and ask people if she could put her cart there. There were many who said no at first until she finally settled in her spot at Maginhawa. “Noong na pwesto ko na siya, umalis agad ako kasi ayaw ‘kong ma associate. At first nakaupo lang ako sa gilid tapos tinatanong ako ng mga tao kung sa akin ba daw ‘yun. Sabi ko lang ako po ang nag set up pero wala na po akong pang-refill. (When I found a spot, I immediately left because I didn’t want to be associated with it. At first, I was just sitting near the cart then passersby started asking me if I owned the cart. I just told them that I was the one who set it up first, but I didn’t have any means to refill it),” she shares.

Patreng carries a torch for a number of advocacies, but the pursuit of quality living burns the brightest for her. “Dati, simple lang ang pangarap ko, eh. Ayaw ‘kong magutom. Pero over time, mas na-realize ko na pwede palang mangarap ng mas malaki. Tapos ang pangarap mo dapat di lang nakakulong sa sarili. Nangangarap ka rin para sa society. Kasi yun naman ang tunay na pag-unlad eh, pag nangangarap ka rin para sa iba. (Before, my goal was simple: to not experience hunger. But overtime, I realized that I can dream bigger, and these dreams must not be confined only to myself. I should be dreaming for the society. That’s what real progress is: carving out your dreams to help others).”

Hinting towards the severity of social injustice, the 28-year-old talks about transforming pent-up societal grievances into tangible action. “Ang gusto ko sana para sa ating lahat ay tanungin natin ang ating mga sarili kung paano natin ma ta-transform ang gigil natin. Kung tutuusin, kaya nating baguhin ang mundo kasi tayong lahat ay may hugot at gigil. (What I want each of us to do is to ask ourselves how we can transform this anger and grievance. We can all change the world because we all have the capacity to do it if we can channel it effectively),” she explains, suggesting that we are all extensions of each other.

Imagine being scandalized by the act of readily extending aid to the needy. Patreng had to retreat into hiding in isolation for a good two months when the controversy arose. And if that wasn’t enough of an experience, she says people started messaging and harassing her friends, as well. “Na depress talaga ako. (I suffered through depression),” she remembers. “During that time, nag hire ako ng therapist para matulungan akong i-process lahat: ang media, ang red-tagging—lahat kasi nag bago sa buhay ko. (During the time, I sought help from a therapist to help me process everything: the media, the red tagging because they were all new to me).”

Patreng simmered in terror until she couldn’t anymore. “One day, sabi ko na lang sa sarili ko, tatakbo na ulit ako. Gusto ko na ulit mag jogging. Hindi na ako ‘to. (One day, I decided that I would go back to jogging. I had to do something to make me feel like me again),” she shares, alluding to how staying locked up has further damaged her mental health. Before her resurgent mid-day run, however, she felt the need to phone her loved ones. “Nagpaalam ako sa pamilya ko. Sabi ko, ‘Kung mawala man ako sa mundo, ok na ‘ko kasi lahat ng ginagawa ko ay gusto ko. Kung may mangyari man sa akin, kahit anong gawin nila sa akin, maniwala kayo na ang huling hininga ko ay hawak ko pa rin.’ (I bid farewell to my family. I told them that if ever I disappear, I’m ready and fully accept it because I know that all that I was doing I was passionate about. If ever that happens, whatever it is, I’d like for you to believe that I have control over my last breath).”

Predictably so, the majority of the hawk-eyed public had her back. “Noong ni let go ko na ang fear, ‘yung mga tao na nag de-defend sa akin. Noong lumabas na ulit ako, natuwa ako kasi kinakamusta ako ng mga tricycle driver at mga tindera. May neighbor din akong nag message, “Hello! I walk my dog every day. Pwede ka namin samahan sa pantry.” Pati online, pag may mga allegations, kahit di ko kilala, dini-defend na rin ako. (When I decided to let go of the fear, the people who supported me were the ones who were defending me already. When I started going out, the tricycle drivers and sellers in the area would check up on me. I had a neighbor who messaged me, “Hello! I walk my dog every day. We can accompany you at the pantry.” Even online, there were people, who I didn’t even know, defending me against allegations).”

When she received the award, she chose to wear a red dress. “For someone who’s been heavily red-tagged, gusto ko i-reclaim ang kulay na red. (I wanted to reclaim the color red). Ang ganda kaya niyang kulay (It’s a beautiful color). It represents love and passion.”

Proceeding to chronicle an exchange she remembers with TOWNS judges, Patreng displays both tension and relief from her eyes. Someone asked me what’s next for me now that the pandemic is over. I simply replied that while there may not be lockdowns anymore, the prices of basic commodities are still so expensive. We’re still exporting; our farmers are not empowered.

They then proceeded to ask her what her proof was, especially since she was being interviewed by judiciary justices — they were focused more on technicalities, data, and sciences. She simply replied, “Wala po akong inaral pero noong bata po ako, gutom po kami. ‘Yung mama ko lagi pong nangungutang. Tapos habang tumatanda po ako, minsan nagugutom pa rin po kami. Noong pandemic, nagugutom pa rin ang mga tao. Ang alam ko lang po noong panahon na yun ay 4.14 million Filipinos ang walang trabaho. Nakikita ko sa news ‘yung mahahabang mga pila ng ayuda. (I don’t have any data with me, but when I was young, we were hungry. My mother would always borrow money. Growing up, we would still experience hunger. During the pandemic, people experienced hunger. During that time, 4.14 million Filipinos lost their jobs. There were long queues for financial aid).”

Finally, when asked what she’s proud of the most after all she’s achieved, Patreng taps into her inner child. “Tuwing babalikan ko ‘yung pantry, naiisip ko na sana may pantry din noong bata ako. Sasabihin ko talaga sa younger me na, “Uy alam mo may lugar na para sa atin. Pwede ka nang kumuha ng pagkain na hindi nangungutang o nahihiya. (Whenever I go back to the pantry, I always hoped that there was a community pantry when I was a child too. I want to tell my younger self that there’s a place for people like me where I can get food without having to borrow money and being ashamed).”