What is life after Sablay?
by Mark Laurenz Handayan
Sunflowers bloom after cycles of gloom. For an Iskolar ng Bayan, nothing is more exhilarating than the day you don your own Sablay. A handwoven piece of fabric, symbolic of tradition and the untold stories between its wearer and their rigors. No matter the duration of stay, it is the dream of most scholars, if not all, to finally shift their Sablay over their ecru barong or baro’t saya as they eventually take the iconic sunflower photo along University Avenue — a memorabilia every University of the Philippines (UP) alumnus seems to have.
Since our first day as Iskolar ng Bayan, we often hear stories of the greatness achieved by those before us — being the most outstanding physicians, engineers, academics, and artists who are mere caricatures of honor and excellence. It is the same glamour of ambition that enticed us to step into the University in the first place. And it is the same metric of excellence UP expects its scholars to exude as we step outside the University.
But for a young adult who is yet to choose among the vast pool of options after graduation, life after Sablay can be daunting, if not, petrifying. How could you have learned so much yet feel like you know so little?
Despite the myriad of courses offered by the University, there is not a specific class that teaches how to navigate life after Sablay. Many have preached how UP alumni became renowned figures in their fields, but only a few tell tales of the big leap between diligently following a course schedule to suddenly paving a career path of your own.
As a public health student, I knew very well the flexibility my degree program has to offer. I see it in my batchmates who will soon pursue a multitude of directions as they leave college. Many will branch out to do public health work in health organizations. Some will take further studies to either medical or graduate school. Some are planning to earn their professional licenses. Meanwhile, a handful, including me, aspire to pave a career in the academe or research.
I believe it is true when they say that your college life does end on a random Tuesday. It is bittersweet to think that the people whom I have grown fond of during my stay in UP Manila through thick and thin will soon diverge paths.
For the last time, we wore our white uniforms, gathered in an auditorium for our final requirement. It was as if it was only yesterday when we first wore them in front of Lara Hall. I vividly remember how wearing such made the heart of my UPCAT-taker-self flutter. And it was as if no time had elapsed since the day our guts wrenched in unison as we heard the iconic bell of our parasitology moving exam.
I scanned the room looking at them dearly — thinking how varied our lives would be after this session. Soon, there will be no more perilous late-night strolls to seek for 24-hour cafes in Manila. No more transes to be crammed before a microbiology exam. No more moments of debriefing after a toxic shift in the wards. All I see now are their faces appearing once again on my feed wearing their togas, soon to be their barong or baro’t saya and a Sablay.
I would be untruthful if I reminisced the past four years with a rose-tinted lens. My dearest friends would know the struggles we shared to earn the Sablay we wear. From being humbled by endless consecutive reports to breaking down in a random carinderia along Padre Faura, every student has had their fair share of trials and successes that honed them to be the young professional that they are. We have grown to be each other’s solace, in laughter and in sorrow, whom we will forever cherish even beyond our stay in the University.
Who would have thought that our departure from UP, a wish we prayed to happen sooner after three espresso shots the night before a final exam, can both be appalling and exciting? Life after Sablay can evoke uncertainty and fulfillment. With no more syllabi to follow, it is up to us to weave our own paths — defining the version of honor and excellence we aspire to see.
As I stood there in front of Lara Hall, which produced thousands of proficient public health professionals before me, I came to realize that maybe the fear of life after Sablay is essential. It is a sign of our unexplored growth and potential. We carry with us what we have learned within and beyond our classrooms to pay it forward to the underserved.
UP Manila may not have been the most picturesque campus, but the hustling streets of Padre Faura and Pedro Gil certainly immersed us in realities that are not as elusive. It taught us that excellence is insufficient, if not, futile on its own. Our stories shared with patients, mentors, and peers instilled in us to practice our craft with honor and humility. We are reminded to whom our service is truly for as we see the long queue at Philippine General Hospital, or the placards raised in front of the Oblation Plaza.
We wear our Sablay with pride — never forgetting the thousands of Filipinos who are behind our stories, too. And that, maybe, the paradoxical definition of Sablay perfectly encapsulates our stay in UP. We face countless failures before triumphs. We get humbled to realize we are nothing but ordinary. We take our time to find our footing — like a seed burrowed deep in the ground, waiting for the day it finally blooms.
