At a certain point each morning, when heavy-lidded early risers have just begun to roll out of bed and small but spirited Maya birds come out to sing, many Filipinos would agree that there is little comfort greater than a basket of pandesal, each piece toasted to perfection, served alongside a shiny white cup of steaming coffee.

Such was surely the case with Trina Borromeo, founder of The Bread Project PH (@thebreadprojph), as she sat day after day at her kitchen table, excited to savour the nationally-beloved flour rolls. It was in large part the simple yet cherished experiences like these that both inspired and motivated her later philanthropic ventures.

“When I was made aware of the hungry children in the urban poor communities of Caloocan whose parents had lost their sources of income,” Borromeo relates, “the first thing that came to my mind was to feed them a piece of bread.” With the help of Jesuit priest Father Wilfredo “Willy” Samson, there was little delay in turning thought into action, as by late 2020, she was out and about purchasing and distributing a few hundred pieces herself.

These humble beginnings slowly but surely took root and grew into the much-anticipated weekly feeding program it is today. Over the course of 18 months, The Bread Project PH, alongside its generous donors, members of the Busog Puso Feeding Program, and women bakers who had lost their jobs due to the pandemic, distributed over 1.6 million “Mingo buns,” or soft pandesal made even better through fortification with monggo (mung beans), malunggay (moringa), and rice. It has since expanded to serve 17 mission stations in areas including Caloocan, Tondo, Pasig, and Laguna, and now occasionally provides the children with basic items such as slippers, books, vegetables, and vitamins, as well.

With such meaningful progress, it may come as a surprise that it was only in the latter half of 2021 that I first heard of the initiative. Throughout the unprecedented lockdown, I was blessed in that my family was largely spared from the worst the virus had to offer. The Bread Project PH, therefore, was a glowing opportunity to give back in gratitude for all I had received, and I made sure to claim it by gathering a small team of classmates that would work remotely to solicit donations and run a social media page for the program.

After months of virtual collaboration, the distribution planned for Friday, June 10, finally allowed for our group to participate in person. Three of us, fresh out of another school year and thrilled at the prospect of meeting some of the benefactors face-to-face, piled into a single vehicle for the long but chatter-filled drive to Caloocan. Arriving at just past 10 in the morning, we were greeted by a very enthusiastic Father Willy, who expertly guided us through the community and into the Julian Felipe Chapel.

We heard what awaited us long before we saw it. The disembodied sounds of a hundred different conversations, of small slippers slapping against the concrete, and of chairs shifting this way and that, all blended into one invigorating cacophony, gave way to a scene greater than we had initially imagined: countless children and their guardians convening underneath a tarpaulin, bright eyes fixed on tables stocked with Mingo Buns, chocolate milk, slippers, and bowls of soup.

Two hours, I learned, could seem like only minutes when spent wandering about to apportion the contents of a large bag of pandesal and debating which slipper size to hand out to which child. Seeing smiles take over the kids’ faces once they were handed their goods and hearing laughter as they rushed to try on their new footwear with friends were all I needed to truly comprehend and appreciate the value and impact of a program even as seemingly small as The Bread Project.

I realised that, despite its undeniable growth, the operation as a whole managed to never lose sight of its origins; in essence, it still remains a project founded upon the possibly clichéd, but eternally true, idea that the little things matter. This is the concept that stands front and centre at The Bread Project PH, proven both in what it has done and continues to do for the future of our nation. There is a beauty to the simplicity in its conception and execution, in the items chosen for donation, and in how, because it takes only ₱5 to feed a child with a Mingo bun, such immense power is given even to the smallest of contributions.

“It is a simple act of love,” shares Nicole, a donor from Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania. “But this small act can change lives, and dreams can be made… The Bread Project is rooted in genuine, personal values— humility, hope, and love. And it is with the abundance of this love that makes it extra special.”

(Editor's note: Meg Pio de Roda is a high school junior who enjoys using her passion for reading and writing to explore the fields of environmental science, history, and sociology.)