Society of Jesus' social apostolate

By Leonard “Leo” Francisco
July 16, 2025 – The 70’s Bistro Bar, Quezon City

Music can heal the soul.

We see it in our daily lives—in city streets, quiet homes, even in the remotest barangays. Music keeps us company through joy and sorrow, through bus rides and restless nights.

But on the night of July 16, 2025, music did more than accompany us.
It fought for something.
It stood for someone.

That night, The 70’s Bistro Bar became a sanctuary of voices, guitars, and hearts beating for justice. The Noel Cabangon Tour Series made a powerful stop for a benefit concert in support of the Sambilog-Balik Bugsuk Movement, an advocacy group defending the rights of the Molbog Indigenous People in Sitio Mariangin, Balabac, Palawan—who are being forced out of their ancestral lands in the name of tourism and profit.

Leading the evening was Noel Cabangon, the voice behind timeless songs like Kanlungan. But more than a musician, Noel was a witness, a companion, a conscience. He called it a reunion—his return to 70’s Bistro after almost a decade. And indeed, it felt like homecoming—not just for him, but for the many who gathered in solidarity.

The crowd included representatives from Jesuit Communications, Society of Jesus Social Apostolate (SJSA) led by Fr. Emmanuel Alfonso, SJ, members of Akbayan Partylist, social groups from Ateneo, and students from Loyola School of Theology and Ateneo de Manila University—all standing together not just to listen, but to act.

Ms. Angel Sarmiento opened the evening with urgency and clarity. She explained the gravity of the Balik-Bugsuk cause. Videos played on screen showed the raw, unfiltered pain of the Molbog people: forced evictions, manipulative tactics, and the eerie silence of those in power.

Then came one of the night’s most painful truths.

A pearl taken from Balabac had been used in the Miss Universe crown.
While the world admired its luster, the Molbog wept.
What others hailed as a symbol of strength, they called a “Bloody Pearl.”

Behind its shine was theft.
Behind its elegance, exploitation.

It was not a crown of empowerment.
It was a crown of injustice.

Because that pearl came from waters now being stolen. Waters that once fed them, now cordoned off. Waters that once welcomed fishermen, now patrolled by men with power and profit in mind. That pearl came from pain—and from the fight to preserve identity, land, and life.

Then, the music took over.

Gab Cabangon, Noel’s son, sang with passion and promise, his voice a reminder that the next generation will not stay silent.

And when Noel Cabangon returned to the stage, the room turned into sacred ground. As he sang Kanlungan, time seemed to pause. And in that stillness, it was as if the voice of the land, the wind from the southern islands, and the cry of the Molbog echoed together:

“Pana-panahon ang pagkakataon,
Maibabalik ba ang kahapon?”

As I listened, I saw in my mind the people of Mariangin: the mothers holding on to memory, the children clinging to home, the elders still standing with dignity. I saw them not as victims, but as voices. And I knew—this isn’t just about Palawan.

It’s about every Filipino community robbed of what is rightfully theirs.
It’s about the truth being buried under development projects.
It’s about power being used to erase, instead of uplift.

But it’s also about us—those who choose to listen.

I have met the Molbog.
Even if we come from different faiths, we share the same humanity.
They are not statistics.
They are not background noise.
They are family.

And what they ask of us is not pity—it’s partnership.

Because the injustice in Palawan is not isolated.
It is a mirror of our nation:
Land taken. Voices silenced. Histories erased.

But still, we sing.
Still, we gather.
Still, we hope.

We stand not just to remember.
We stand to return—to bring them home, in spirit and in action.

To anyone reading this:
You don’t need a title.
You don’t need to go viral.

You just need a heart that refuses to stay quiet.

Be one of us.
Be one with them.
Be part of the fight—not as a spectator, but as someone who helped write the better ending.

And to those in power, to those who decide behind closed doors:
The Molbog are not invisible.
They are not weak.
They are not alone.

You hear them now.
Not tomorrow.
Now.

Let us not just sing about peace.
Let us live it.

Will you stand with us?