In 2021, researchers at the University of the Philippines Los Baños subjected lagikway (agitway in Samar) to scientific scrutiny—and the neglected vegetable held its ground. While imported “superfoods” enjoy polished packages and premium shelf space, a nutritious Filipino plant remains largely overlooked. I believe it is time we stopped treating foreignness as a measure of nutritional worth.

I have nothing against kale, quinoa, or chia seeds. What bothers me is our habit of admiring food more readily when its name sounds foreign, and its price makes the grocery bill wince. We sometimes behave as though good health must arrive in an imported pouch, bearing an English nutrition label and a small passport stamped at customs. Lagikway, meanwhile, may be growing quietly in a home garden, asking for neither applause nor an advertising campaign.

Science gives us good reason to look at it more seriously. A UPLB study examined three lagikway entries and found protein, fiber, phenolic compounds, flavonoids, and tannins in their edible portions. The researchers also measured antioxidant activity, although the levels differed among the entries and changed after blanching. One entry, Lag 152649, performed particularly well in phytochemical content and antioxidant activity, leading the researchers to recommend it for wider propagation and use. This does not make lagikway a miracle cure, and I would distrust anyone who advertised it as one. It simply means that the plant deserves a fair place on the Filipino table, supported by evidence rather than hype.

Its nutritional promise extends beyond one Philippine study. International research on Abelmoschus manihot, commonly called aibika, has examined its folate and mineral content, including calcium, iron, magnesium, and zinc. Researchers have described it as a crop with potentially high nutritional value, while noting that nutrient levels can vary by variety, year, and environmental conditions. I appreciate that qualification because honest science does not crown a vegetable king after one laboratory test. It tells us what the evidence supports and where caution is still needed.

What makes lagikway especially appealing to me is that it does not have to force itself into Filipino cooking. Its young leaves and tender shoots can be used in soups, salads, ginataan, and pinangat, while their natural mucilage can help thicken broth. There is no need to invent an expensive smoothie or bury the leaves beneath imported yogurt to make them fashionable. Lagikway can enter the kitchen through dishes Filipinos already know—the steaming pot, the familiar ladle, the bowl passed around the family table. It does not arrive as a celebrity ingredient. It comes home as food.

Its neglect also reveals something troubling about how we value local knowledge. Indigenous vegetables have long been part of home gardens and traditional meals, yet many remain underused because planting materials and reliable information are not widely available and consumer demand is weak. Once a plant disappears from ordinary cooking, the knowledge surrounding it begins to fade as well: how to grow it, which shoots to pick, how long to cook the leaves, and which dishes welcome its texture. To lose such knowledge while buying an imported substitute would be a bitter little joke played on ourselves.
There is an economic argument here that matters just as much as the nutrition argument. When lagikway is planted, sold, and eaten locally, more of its value can remain with Filipino growers and communities. Shorter supply chains may also reduce the distance food travels, although the actual environmental benefit still depends on farming, storage, packaging, and transport methods. I would rather make that careful claim than decorate lagikway with exaggerated promises. Its strongest case is already convincing: it is an edible, nutritious crop suited to local conditions and familiar dishes, yet it has received far less attention than it merits.

Lagikway does not need to defeat kale in some imaginary battle of the leaves. It needs seedlings in gardens, space in agricultural programs, honest information in schools and markets, continued research, and cooks willing to bring it back into everyday meals. I would begin there—quietly, practically, one backyard and one pot of soup at a time. Perhaps the next food worth celebrating is not waiting on a supermarket’s imported shelf after all, but growing beside a Filipino fence, green and patient, wondering why we have taken so long to notice.

When we hear the word “legacy,” we often think of wealthy philanthropists, famous leaders, or celebrated artists – people whose names are etched into history books. But legacy isn’t reserved for those who achieve widespread fame or accumulate great fortune. At its core, legacy is about the impact we leave on the world around us – the way we touch lives, shape communities, and create positive change that outlives us. Whether we realize it or not, every one of us has the power to build a meaningful legacy, and the work of establishing it begins not with grand gestures, but with intentional choices we make every day.

Legacy Is Not What We Leave Behind – It’s What We Build Forward

Many of us mistakenly believe legacy is something we plan for at the end of our lives – a sum of money set aside for heirs, a building named in our honor, or a memoir documenting our achievements. While these things can be part of a legacy, they don’t define it. True legacy is living in a way that creates ripples of positive influence that continue to spread long after we’re gone.

Consider the teacher who spends decades inspiring students to pursue their dreams – their legacy lives on in every child who finds the courage to chase their passions. Think of the neighbor who organizes community gardens, bringing people together and improving local food access – their work transforms neighborhoods for generations. Even small acts of kindness, consistency, and integrity can shape how we’re remembered and how we impact the world. Legacy is built not through what we accumulate, but through what we give away – our time, our knowledge, our compassion, and our commitment to making things better.

Defining What Matters Most to You

The first step in establishing a legacy is clarifying what you want yours to stand for. Without a clear sense of purpose, our efforts to make an impact can feel scattered or disconnected. Take time to reflect on the questions that get to the heart of your values:

– What issues or causes move me deeply?
– What skills, experiences, or perspectives do I have to share?
– How do I want to be remembered by the people I love?
– What kind of world do I want to help create for future generations?

Your legacy doesn’t have to be focused on a single area. It might combine your professional expertise with your personal passions – a doctor who starts a free clinic in underserved communities, a writer who mentors young authors while advocating for literacy, or a business owner who builds a company centered on ethical practices and environmental responsibility. The key is aligning your actions with what you truly value, so your impact feels authentic and meaningful.

Taking Action: Turning Intentions Into Impact

Legacy isn’t built through wishful thinking – it requires consistent action, even when progress feels slow or invisible. Start small by identifying concrete ways to bring your values into your daily life. If you care about education, volunteer to tutor a student or donate books to a local library. If environmental stewardship matters to you, reduce your own carbon footprint and advocate for sustainable practices in your community.

As you gain clarity and confidence, look for ways to scale your impact. This might mean starting an initiative, partnering with existing organizations, or mentoring others to carry forward your work. One powerful way to build legacy is by empowering others – teaching skills, sharing knowledge, and creating opportunities that help people thrive on their own. When you invest in developing others’ potential, you create a chain reaction of positive change that extends far beyond your own efforts.

It’s also important to be patient with the process. Legacy building is a marathon, not a sprint. The changes we seek to create often take years – even decades – to fully unfold. What matters is staying committed to your purpose, adapting as needed, and celebrating small wins along the way.

The Role of Relationships in Legacy

At its heart, legacy is about connection – the bonds we forge with others and the way we help bring people together. No matter how ambitious our goals, we cannot build a lasting legacy alone. Strong relationships provide the foundation for impact: they give us support when challenges arise, help us reach wider audiences, and ensure our work continues through the people we’ve touched.

Make time to nurture the relationships that matter most – with family, friends, colleagues, and community members. Listen to others’ perspectives, collaborate on shared goals, and be willing to learn from both successes and failures. When we build legacy in partnership with others, we create something greater than what any one person could achieve alone.
Living Your Legacy Now

Perhaps the most important truth about legacy is that it begins in the present. We don’t have to wait until we’re older or more accomplished to start making an impact. Every choice we make – how we treat others, how we approach our work, how we contribute to our communities – shapes the legacy we’re building in real time.

When we live with intention, act with integrity, and commit to making a positive difference, we don’t just leave a legacy – we live it. We create a life that matters not because of what we achieve, but because of how we lift up those around us. In the end, the legacy we establish is simply the sum of all the ways we’ve chosen to show up for the world.
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If you have any questions or would like to share your thoughts on the column, feel free to send an email to jca.bblueprint@gmail.com. Looking forward to connecting with you!

The cut-mountain quarry along Sta. Cruz Street, Tacloban—bordering Eastern Visayas State University and Congressman Mate Avenue—poses a severe landslide hazard during the rainy season.

Despite clear geohazard warnings and Philippine laws mandating slope stabilization and environmental safeguards, enforcement remains weak, leaving nearby communities, schools, and infrastructure at risk.

The scarred slope along Sta. Cruz Street, Tacloban, behind Eastern Visayas State University and Congressman Mate Avenue, is more than an eyesore—it is a ticking time bomb. The cut-mountain quarry type excavation has left unstable walls that, once saturated by the rains, could collapse in a deadly landslide. Students, commuters, and residents live daily under this looming threat.

From the Regional Executive Director of Department of the Environment ande Natural Resources Art Salazar , he ordered the Mine Geosciences Bureau and PENRO Leyte and CENRO Palo to act on the matter , right away !

The danger is not speculative. The Mines and Geosciences Bureau (MGB) has long identified Tacloban as a landslide-prone zone. Philippine law is clear: under the Mining Act of 1995 (RA 7942) and the Environmental Impact Statement System (PD 1586), quarry operations must include slope stabilization, drainage, and protective measures.

The 1987 Constitution itself guarantees the people’s right to a balanced and healthful ecology. Yet enforcement remains sluggish, and the hazard grows more obvious with each passing storm.

Why is this danger tolerated? Because economic interests outweigh public safety? Quarrying feeds construction, aggregates, in horizontal construction and filling up of lands, but it also feeds complacency.

Local authorities act only after tragedy strikes, not before.

The Writ of Kalikasan exists precisely to stop such negligence, but it is rarely invoked until lives are already lost.

Its high time we see these as a WARNING, let us not wait until lives are lost before we act!