Police step up 'Undas' security in 2 regions

By Mike Crismundo

Published Oct 25, 2025 01:21 pm

   

BUTUAN CITY – Police in the Caraga and Northern Mindanao regions have stepped up security for “Undas” or All Saints’ Day next week.

They are complemented by the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP), Bureau of Jail Management and Penology (BJMP), Bureau of Fire Protection (BFP), Philippine Drug Enforcement Agency (PDEA), Philippine Coast Guard (PCG), and force multipliers composed of barangay tanods (watchmen), radio groups, and non-government organizations.

More than 1,800 police officers will be deployed in the Caraga or Northeastern Mindanao region and 1,100 in Northern Mindanao or Region 10.

They will be assigned to cemeteries and memorial parks, transport terminals, seaports, and airports to provide security, manage traffic, and assist the public.

Police Major Jennifer S. Ometer, PRO-13 Regional Public Information Office (RPIO) chief, said the Media Action Center is open at the regional headquarters in Camp Rafael C. Rodriguez here.

“All systems go,” she said.

“We assure the public of our readiness to maintain peace and order, provide immediate assistance, and respond to any untoward incidents during the observance of the All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day,” PRO-13 Director Police Brig. Gen. Marcial Mariano P. Magistrado IV said.

Magistrado encouraged the public to cooperate with authorities and remain vigilant while visiting cemeteries, other public areas, and tourist destinations.

PRO 10-RPIO chief Police Major Joan G. Navarro said public assistance desks have been established in strategic locations in the region to cater to the needs of the public.

Police recorded around 672,000 visitors in Northern Mindanao during Undas last year.

“We have intensified our preparation and coordination with partner agencies and local government units to ensure the smooth observance of Undas. Our police officers are deployed not just to secure, but also to assist and respond to the needs of the public,” PRO-10 Director Police Brig. Gen. Christopher N. Abrahano said.

He reminded the public to cooperate with authorities, follow rules inside cemetery, and avoid bringing prohibited items such as bladed weapons, liquor, firearms, and loud sound systems.

“We appeal to everyone to be mindful and respectful during the observance. Let us work together to make this Undas peaceful and meaningful,” he added.

Study finds why poor sleep and high blood pressure may increase dementia risk

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New research links dementia to problems with the brain’s waste clearance system. Asya Molochkova/Stocksy

• The ‘glymphatic system’ — the flow of cerebrospinal fluid during sleep to flush out toxins and waste materials from the brain — plays an essential role in keeping the brain healthy.
• A new study, using MRI scans, found that people with cardiovascular risk factors that impaired the function of the glymphatic system had an increased risk of dementia.
• The researchers suggest that improving sleep patterns to enhance glymphatic system function and treating cardiovascular risks could both help reduce dementia risk.

The glymphatic system is a recently discovered waste clearance system, most active during sleep, that removes toxins and waste materials, including those associated with dementia, from the central nervous systemTrusted Source.

A new study has found that people with an impaired glymphatic system have a higher risk of developing dementia.

The study, published in Alzheimer’s & Dementia: The Journal of the Alzheimer’s AssociationTrusted Source, suggests that improving glymphatic function could be a powerful tool in reducing the risk of dementia.

“These findings are largely expected, building on a growing body of research that implicates impaired cerebrospinal fluidTrusted Source (CSF) dynamics, often referred to as the ‘glymphatic system’, in dementia. Animal studies have long shown that disrupted CSF flow hampers the clearance of toxic proteins such as amyloid beta and tau, which are central to Alzheimer’s disease pathology. What makes this study significant is that it provides large-scale, human-based evidence from over 45,000 participants in the UK Biobank, confirming that MRI markers of CSF dysfunction […] are associated with higher dementia risk.”

— Dr Steve Allder, consultant neurologist at Re:Cognition Health, who was not involved in the study.

HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS IN DAVAO

 LIBUAN KA MGA ROMANO KATOLIKO, MIDUYOG SA ARCHDIOCESAN PENITENTIAL WALK AND HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS SA DAVAO CITY …

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THOUSANDS OF ROMAN CATHOLICS JOINED THE ARCHDIOCESAN PENITENTIAL WALK AND HOLY SACRIFICE OF THE MASS IN DAVAO …

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GMA Super Radyo Davao

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Growing up means calling your mom first

 

At 16, I rolled my eyes. At 21, I text her everything.

Five years ago, I was convinced I had the world figured out. I was young, full of opinions, full of silence. I kept to myself, shut my door, answered questions with shrugs. I didn’t have the words for what I was feeling then, just a general restlessness, like I was trying to outgrow something too quickly. The easiest target was my mom. I was loud with my silence. And cruel with my distance.

I was raised by a single mother. She worked full-time but still woke up before the sun to make my breakfast and pack my lunch. She brushed my hair while I shuffled around looking for the missing pair of my socks. Every morning, she told me she loved me. Most mornings, I didn’t say anything back. I was always in a rush. At the time, it felt normal. Now I wonder what I was in such a hurry to leave behind.

There were years when I barely let her in. We used to go on Jollibee dates. I’d talk for hours while she listened, like the smallest things I said mattered. I don’t know when that stopped. At some point, I just started answering with “basta” when she asked about my day. Maybe I thought being independent meant being distant. It was as if turning 16 made me forget how to be a daughter. I thought needing my mom meant I wasn’t growing up fast enough, and I was so desperate to prove that I could stand on my own.

Now I’m 21 and living in Manila, and I think about her more than I ever expected to. I make my own meals, do my own laundry, and go to class with bags under my eyes and a to-do list I never finish. And somehow, in this busy, messy version of adulthood, I find myself needing her more than ever. When I shuffle around my apartment looking for my socks, I think of her. When I’m sick and there’s no one to nag me to take medicine, I think of her. When I sit in silence after a long day, it’s her voice I want to hear.

We talk more now than we did then. I call her at night, send updates throughout the day that would’ve embarrassed my teenage self. I used to ask her if my clothes looked okay. Now she sends me pictures of hers and waits for my reply. She asks me about my exams, my friends, the people I mention in passing. I tell her about my deadlines, the professors I find difficult, the overpriced coffee I still buy anyway. It’s quiet, this new rhythm. But I’ve learned that love doesn’t have to be loud to be real.

Sometimes I look back on those years when I shut her out and wonder if she ever felt like she was losing me. If she noticed the way I started walking a little faster, speaking a little less. She never said anything. She just kept showing up. Every morning, every evening, every time I forgot to be soft. She waited patiently at the edges of my life, never forcing her way in, just leaving the door open.

It’s a quiet kind of love we’ve grown into. Less dependent, more deliberate. There’s a quiet tenderness in our relationship now, one that was hard to find in the noise of my teenage rebellion. It’s found in the way I now check in with her, the way I mirror her habits without meaning to, the way I try to care for her the way she’s always cared for me. I think this is what growing up really is. Not breaking away from your parents, but finding your way back to them with a fuller heart.

Tomorrow, I’ll take the first bus back to Bataan. In my bag will be a Burger King Whopper for my mom, wrapped up carefully so it doesn’t get soggy. I know she’ll act like it’s nothing special, maybe even scold me for spending too much, but I also know she’ll eat it happily. That’s how my mom is. She receives love the same way she gives it: fully, quietly, without making a big show.

We’ll sit across from each other like we used to, two people who’ve grown in different directions but still somehow toward each other. I’ll tell her about school, the traffic, the strange dream I had last week. She’ll tell me the cat’s been acting weird again, that the neighbor’s bike keeps blocking our driveway, that she learned new recipes from TikTok. She might even cook one of them while I’m home, letting me hover near the stove like I used to as a kid, sneaking bites before dinner was ready.

Maybe we’ll laugh at nothing. Maybe we’ll argue a little over how much I spend on delivery. Maybe we’ll sit in comfortable silence while watching TV. And in that quiet, ordinary moment, I’ll realize this is what it means to come home. Not just to a place, but to a person who never stopped waiting for you to return, even when you didn’t know you left.

Bea Francine Isuga