A series of personal tragic events steered former broadcast journalist Charie Villa to flee the rat race and find peace in a higher place, in the bosom of nature to be exact. Her self-styled homestead is swathed in fruit trees, farm animals, feathered creatures and rows of vegetable gardens. It is paradise on earth.  

Farm life was not in her plan. She never imagined suiting up a green armour after devoting nearly 30 years in newsrooms. But the untimely death of her older brother, whom she lost to suicide in 2016, was pivotal in her life-changing decision to take the Green Warrior path. 

Her brother Jun was working for the Energy Regulatory Commission (Phils) at the time. Already depressed from losing their father and his senior mentor, work pressure took a toll on him. In one of his three suicide notes he lamented being forced by the higher ups to sign off government contracts of projects requiring third-party providers without going through mandatory bidding, which was illegal. He refused, repeatedly.  

“The grief was unbearable. Months after his death, I would be driving or just going about my normal chores… when sudden thoughts of him would make me burst into sobs. I had nightmares because I heard the sound of the gunshot. I was traumatised. I had to go for counseling. Thankfully, I had friends and family who helped me get over my grief to eventually accept his death,” recalls Charie, who lived with Jun in the family house their parents built. 

The grief over her brother’s passing was compounded when their helper, who served the Villas for 15 years, lost her battle with cancer. “I was left on my own to live in our parents’ house.” 

While she was processing her grief her best friend since childhood, Vangge, told her about a three-hectare farm that was on sale in Lipa, Batangas (70 kms south of Manila). They eventually bought and split it (two hectares for her and one hectare for Vangge). 

“I started building a little house with one room and a kitchen where I planned to stay while planting cacao seeds in 2018,” she recalls. The plan was to shuttle between the city and the farm. But remotely running it was fraught with complications. She eventually left the family house and moved to her farm to solve the problems head on.  

“The locals called us ‘dayo’ [foreigner or outsider]. There were those who didn't want us taking over the land, especially those who felt they owned the trees they planted. Dealing with threats and some attempts to harass us, we continued to build and develop. We built cisterns and rain catchment so we can minimise water cost, and used organic fertilizers to grow our cacao.  As we were clearing the land from cogon [weed] grass and other unwanted shrubs, we were happily surprised that the land was home to fruiting trees!  Tamarind, avocados, pomelos, chico, pineapples, bignay, coffee, coconuts, ginger, turmeric, citronella and other important Philippine native trees suddenly revealed themselves to us!” 

The pandemic lockdown did not impinge on her. Already isolated in her remote farmland at the foot of Mt. Malarayat since 2018, she simply embraced farm life. 

Charie wakes up at the crack of dawn, gives her Belgian Malinois siblings Luna and Max hugs and belly scratches, and enjoys al fresco breakfast usually comprising fried adlai rice, dried fish with fried sunny side up egg washed down with ginger-turmeric-tarragon tea. Lately, she settles for a sweet potato and a boiled egg. 

A walk around the farm follows, checking in on her stay-in caretakers and workers she employs from a nearby neigbourhood. There’s much to be done from 7:00 am to 4:00 pm. Carpentry and masonry are seasonal. Clearing the ground of grass regularly to keep snakes away. Planting and harvesting are scheduled. Pruning, setting ornamental plants around, harvesting in-season produce to eat and sell, tending to her farm pets (three horses, six Belgian malinois dogs, a cat), feeding the chickens and making sure that her farm hands, including six guard dogs watching the property’s perimetres, are well looked after. 

After lunch, she escapes to her room when it is too hot, does some paperwork, or watches movies on streaming channels, or naps in a hammock. Then she’s back outdoors before work ends. Dinner is usually at 6.30 pm. Lights out by 9:00 pm. Occasionally, she hosts friends, relatives, ex-media colleagues that drop by for a short respite from their city life.   

The news veteran has covered local insurgencies, elections, natural calamities, crime stories, corruption, poverty-stricken communities, socio-economic injustices and political rallies. Her diverse beat took her to several places in the Philippines, mostly in rural areas where agriculture is the primary source of livelihood. 

“Even as I was covering news events, I always made it a point to talk to the common folks to get their stories because I know when major events happen, man-made or natural, they are always affected,” she says. “In the rural areas, where more than half of the Philippine population resides, most live in hand-to-mouth existence because their farms never really took off.  They needed, and still need, support from the government in terms of irrigation, fertilizers etc.” Sadly, support hardly came. 

She may not know it then but the seeds of a farm life were planted deep in her unconscious, waiting to sprout. When this city girl opted for an early retirement after 18 years working for ABS CBN, she never thought she’d be moving to the countryside. 

“Farming was farthest from my mind. I thought with my retirement fund, I wanted to do something still worthwhile, again not for the money. My parents never taught us to work for money. My father, a lawyer by profession, was in government service for four decades. My Mom was a teacher and social worker,” Charie reminisces. 

Post-retirement, Charie pursued a dream to build an online portal for Filipinos to get service they deserve from the government. With the help of like-minded friends  they established the ‘Tao Po’ online movement, a polite callout by Filipinos to their government for better service, ran from 2010 to 2012. ‘Tao Po’ is a phrase used by a caller to announce his/her presence at the entrance of a home.

Soon after, she was offered to head the news department of government station PTV4. She initially thought maybe she could do a counterpart of Tao Po called ‘Ano po yun?’ (What is it?) to show a responsive government. Her plan was shelved even before it took off. 

Charie painfully recalls the conversation she had with her brother about her PTV4 job, which she rescinded after the tragedy. “My brother warned me I will never be fulfilled working for the government.”  It made her ponder. 

“When you plant a seed, you give life. That's why whenever I plant, I always think ‘para sa kinabukasan’ [for the future]. It makes me smile. I used to dread thinking about death, especially of loved ones, friends and family. But it is a natural course in life. I used to think, is it painful to die? But death is actually experienced by those who survived, isn't it? The pain, the sense of loss, the yearning. So I experienced death. And it is really painful.”

Nothing upsets her anymore. She’s living a satisfying simple life in her self-sustaining homestead sandwiched between blue skies and verdant land. 

“Seeing the seedlings we have planted grow, and collecting eggs from our chickens. Or seeing some new hatchlings following their moms while they forage for food. Watching life around the farm is so fulfilling. Sometimes, during sunset, Kingking [her caretaker’s kid] and I would just watch the sky and he would tell me nonsensical stories I would laugh about.”

“With farming, I experience life and life giving.  I give life to trees, to plants, to our animals here. It is fulfilling. I watch the birds as they fly freely in the sky, and I thank God for giving me this life. I have become more grateful.  And there will come a time I shall pass, too.  My hope is that what we've started here will be continued by those who will leave this land, too.”

In this picture-perfect serenity, the Green Warrior endeavours to help the people in the community she lives in by raising awareness on sustainable farming methods that she learned herself through trial and error, and providing a source of livelihood (the workers get 30% of the sale proceeds of the farm’s produce). To encourage them to work harder and take pride in their work, Charie made them stakeholders, a first for the farmers who used to get far less for their labour. 

Plans are underway to turn the farm into a camp for the youth where they can meditate, commune with nature, acquire survival skills, deal with grief, and learn basic agriculture.

It has been six years since her brother’s demise. The pain isn’t completely gone. Standing amidst the farm is the tallest antipolo tree, which she named “Junny” in loving memory of her brother, Atty. Francisco Villa, Jr. Perhaps it is her daily reminder that life is too short to look back with regrets."

“Simplify. Try to live simply, despite social media and Lazada's material world,” reflects the accidental farmer. “The day I signed my ABS CBN exit contract,  I drove back home singing ‘A Higher Place’ by Adam Levine from the movie ‘Begin Again’.

Debbie | ws

Images courtesy of Charie Villa | Facebook, @charivilla on Twitter and Instagram