
This might not be the typical expat blog, written by a German expat, living in the Philippines since 1999. It's different. In English and in German. Check it out! Enjoy reading! Dies mag' nun wirklich nicht der typische Auswandererblog eines Deutschen auf den Philippinen sein. Er soll etwas anders sein. In Englisch und in Deutsch! Viel Spass beim Lesen!

By Manila Bulletin
Published Feb 8, 2026 12:05 am
February is often called the month of hearts—thanks largely to Valentine’s Day, with its flowers, chocolates, and professions of love. But beyond romance, February carries a more urgent reminder. It is Philippine Heart Month, a designation that underscores a reality we cannot afford to ignore – heart disease remains the country’s leading cause of death.
Declared under Proclamation No. 1096 in 1973, Philippine Heart Month was meant to promote national awareness, continuing education, and collective action against cardiovascular disease. More than five decades later, the challenge persists, intensified by lifestyle changes, limited access to care, and the growing spread of health misinformation.
The Philippine Heart Association (PHA) has raised alarm over the rise of false and misleading information about heart disease circulating on social media. Cardiologists report that some patients are persuaded by friends, neighbors, or online sources to stop taking prescribed medication once they feel better—despite medical advice that such treatment is often lifelong. This dangerous misconception can delay recovery, worsen illness, and, in many cases, prove fatal.
To counter fake news, the PHA has stepped up efforts through lectures, community consultations, and public education campaigns, particularly during the observance of Philippine Heart Month. With the theme “Bringing heart care closer to every Filipino all over the country,” the association, together with the Department of Health (DOH), continues to stress that heart health decisions must be guided by science and medical expertise—not viral posts or hearsay.
The DOH has likewise reiterated the basics of heart disease prevention: early intervention, healthy lifestyle choices, and regular health checkups. The advice is clear and consistent—eat a proper and balanced diet, avoid vices such as smoking and excessive alcohol intake, engage in regular physical activity, and consult health professionals regularly.
These recommendations may sound simple, but following them is not always easy, especially in a country where access to specialized care remains uneven.
According to the PHA, there is only one cardiologist for every 44,000 Filipinos nationwide, and nearly half of these specialists are based in Metro Manila. This concentration leaves many provinces with limited or no access to cardiology services, making early diagnosis and timely treatment difficult for patients outside the National Capital Region.
The imbalance has serious consequences. Heart disease does not wait for convenience, nor does it respect geography. Delayed consultations and untreated conditions can quickly turn fatal, particularly in areas where specialist care is scarce. While the PHA is expanding its network by opening new chapters and planning subchapters in underserved provinces, the shortage highlights the need for stronger preventive measures and better primary care support at the community level.
Recent data further underscore the urgency. Government health records show that more than one in three Filipinos were affected by heart disease in 2024. In Metro Manila alone, ischemic heart disease claimed nearly 24,000 lives that year. These are not just statistics—they represent families broken, livelihoods lost, and futures cut short.
Philippine Heart Month is a reminder that caring for the heart is both a personal responsibility and a national concern. In an era when misinformation spreads faster than medical advice, choosing to listen to qualified health professionals can save lives.
February may celebrate hearts in a symbolic sense, but its deeper meaning lies in protecting the very organ that sustains life. We have only one heart. Taking care of it—through informed choices, healthy habits, and timely medical care—is the truest expression of self-love, and one the nation must continue to promote long after the month ends.








By Anna Mae Lamentillo
Published Feb 6, 2026 12:05 am
Fear of failure didn’t announce itself as fear. It called itself discipline. Ambition. “Wanting it badly enough.” It looked responsible from the outside. I was the person who stayed late, double-checked everything, said yes before I had time to think. What I didn’t understand then was that I wasn’t chasing success—I was running from the humiliation of falling short.
Failure, to me, was never abstract. It had a face. It sounded like people saying, I knew it. It felt like being exposed as someone who had overreached. I didn’t fear mistakes as much as I feared the moment afterward, when the room goes quiet and everyone decides who you really are. Fear taught me that one misstep could cancel out years of effort. That belief changed how I moved through my life.
I started choosing the safer version of myself. The project I knew I could complete instead of the one that excited me. The opinion that wouldn’t rock the table. The goal that looked impressive but didn’t risk public disappointment. Fear made me strategic, but also small. It taught me to measure my worth by outcomes, not effort, and to treat rest like laziness I hadn’t earned yet.
The irony is that I was often successful—and still terrified. Fear of failure doesn’t leave when you succeed; it raises the stakes. Now there’s more to lose. Now people expect something from you. Every win becomes a narrow ledge you’re afraid to fall from. I learned how to smile while thinking, This can all disappear.
But the hardest part wasn’t failing. It was trying to explain how afraid I was—and not being believed.
When I said I was struggling, people pointed to my résumé. When I said I felt stuck, they said I was lucky. When I said I was scared, they told me to be confident, as if confidence were a switch I was refusing to flip. Disbelief followed a pattern: if you look capable, your fear must be imaginary. If you’re functioning, you must be fine.
There is something uniquely destabilizing about being told your fear isn’t real while you are living inside it. You start to wonder if you’re weak for feeling it. You start hiding it better. You stop asking for help and start performing competence. Fear of failure thrives in that silence. It grows when it’s invisible.
Eventually, fear taught me another lesson: I was spending my life trying to be believed by people who only respected outcomes. People who praised me when I succeeded and disappeared when I struggled. People who confused my fear with ingratitude and my honesty with excuse-making. I kept explaining myself, thinking clarity would earn me understanding. It didn’t.
So this column is a line I’m drawing.
I no longer believe in the voices that only trust me when I win. I don’t believe in the advice that tells me fear is a flaw instead of information. I don’t believe in shrinking my goals just to avoid the look on someone’s face when things don’t work out.
Fear of failure has changed my life. It has cost me risks I didn’t take, words I swallowed, versions of myself I postponed. But it has also taught me something essential: belief starts inward. If I outsource my self-trust to people who only believe in success, I will always be at their mercy.
I am learning to fail in smaller, braver ways. To try without rehearsing my apology. To let disappointment be survivable instead of catastrophic. And when someone doesn’t believe me—when they dismiss the fear, minimize the cost—I remind myself: their disbelief is not evidence. It’s just a limit.
I believe myself now. And that, finally, feels like progress.
A shift toward emotional safety, growth, and resilience—without lowering standards








Published Jan 28, 2026 12:05 am
BEYOND BUDGET
Assalamu alaikum wa Rahmatullahi wa Barakatuh.
Whenever I speak with a child, I feel a quiet sense of excitement. Children see the world differently—with a clarity adults often lose. They are full of curiosity, honesty, and an unshakable belief that tomorrow can still be better. In their queries and laughter, you can glimpse the future taking shape. Thus, I have always believed that children must be at the heart of governance. The decisions we make today will shape the lives they grow into.
This belief guided my work at the Department of Budget and Management (DBM), particularly our push for Public Finance for Children, or PF4C. It carries the simple message that children should never be an afterthought in public spending. They should be a priority. Every peso we allocate must translate into something real in a child’s life—better learning, better health, stronger protection, and a genuine chance to thrive.
For many years, our budgets spoke about children in fragments. Education appeared in one section, nutrition in another, and child protection elsewhere. On paper, everything seemed covered. On the ground, we can see the gaps. Services overlapped, while others failed to reach the children who need them most. PF4C challenges this disconnect by ensuring that our programs work together and that outcomes are felt in communities and not only reflected in reports.
Hence, in May 2025, the DBM, together with the European Union and UNICEF, launched a Public Finance Facility, a cooperation program to support more coordinated and targeted budgeting to improve the lives of the most vulnerable children in our country. This partnership was built on a shared understanding that improving children’s lives requires more than good intentions. It demands sustained, protected, and transparent public spending, guided by evidence and focused especially on the most vulnerable.
PF4C is about weaving children’s rights into the entire budget process—from planning and allocation to implementation and monitoring. This approach is reinforced by the Program Convergence Budgeting, which encourages agencies to align their efforts rather than work in silos. When programs converge, resources go further, duplication is reduced, and services reach children in a more coherent and meaningful way.
Our resources are finite. Competing needs are constant. Hard choices are unavoidable. PF4C does not deny these realities but insists that even in the face of difficult choices, children must never be left behind in our budget.
Armed with this belief, we at the DBM, together with the Department of the Interior and Local Government, and the Bureau of Local Government Finance, launched the Child Budget and Expenditures Tagging and Tracking (CBETT) tool, which grew from a simple concern many of us shared: To make sure that government spending reaches children. Without clear data, even the best intentions remain untested. The CBETT tool gives us visibility. It enables the systematic identification, classification, and monitoring of child-focused budget and expenditures within local budget frameworks. This directly addresses the critical gap in expenditure tracking identified in the Child-Responsive Public Financial Management Assessment Report.
This became even more important after the Mandanas-Garcia ruling, which shifted greater responsibility—and resources—to local governments. LGUs are now on the frontlines of delivering services for children. CBETT helps ensure that as fiscal autonomy expands, accountability and child-responsiveness grow alongside it.
Equally important is opening the budget conversation itself. Through the government’s Open Government initiatives, we have taken steps to make fiscal discussions more transparent and participatory—creating spaces where citizens, including children and young people, can be heard. In fact, during the OpenGov Week last May, we invited children and youth participants for a dialogue titled, “Making Spaces: Children Driving Change for Open Government.” I believe when children are included in conversations about budgets in age-appropriate ways, they learn that governance is not distant or abstract. The government should also truly listen and make sure that lines are open because the best way to move forward is together. Through this, we build consensus, and we make decisions that affect their daily lives and one they can one day help shape.
Education shows how these principles translate into action. Responding to the learning crisis, we at the DBM allocated ₱1.34 trillion to education—the largest education budget in our history. And, for the first time, our country met UNESCO’s global benchmark of four percent of GDP. Over ₱1 trillion supports the hiring of teachers and non-teaching staff, classroom construction, academic recovery programs, and school-based feeding for millions of learners. These are not mere figures. They represent children who can learn better, eat better, and stay in school longer.
Beyond budget, Public Finance for Children reminds us that the true measure of public finance is lived experience—in safe classrooms, accessible clinics, and communities that protect and hear our children. As citizen Mina, I carry this belief beyond public office. Children live longest with the consequences of our choices. When we place them at the center of public finance, we do more than manage resources. We choose the kind of future we are willing to stand for.
(Amenah F. Pangandaman is the former Secretary of the Department of Budget and Management.)