15/03/2026
When Diesel Hits 100
There’s a different kind of math that happens when diesel creeps past ₱100 a liter.
Every kilometer suddenly feels heavier. Every trip gets weighed. And every plan begins with the quiet question: Is this drive necessary today?
For those of us who live between two worlds, the numbers become very real.
Only a few people know that apart from the farm, most of my professional life unfolds in Manila. I’ve spent the greater part of my career in the insurance business, with a short chapter in academe along the way. The weekdays belong to meetings, clients, and conversations about protecting futures.
But my weekends… they belong to the farm.
Normally, those weekends mean packing the family into the car and making the drive north. It’s a rhythm we’ve grown used to—leaving the noise of the city behind and trading it for the slower pace of pasture and goats.
Those visits are never just “visits.”
They’re when I sit down with the farm boys and talk through what needs to be done next week.
What repairs are needed.
Which does are close to kidding.
What feed needs to be ordered.
It’s when I walk through the pens, quietly observing the herd—checking body condition, watching how the young ones move, thinking about the next breeding decisions.
And just as important, it’s when the kids get to reconnect with the farm. The goats they’ve named. The familiar sounds of the barn. The feeling that this place is part of who we are.
But when diesel hits ₱100… you learn to be creative.
Instead of being there physically, I sometimes find myself watching the farm through the CCTV cameras. A quiet moment at night, scrolling through the feeds, checking on the goats as if I were walking the pens myself.
There are long phone calls with the farm boys—talking through the small details that matter more than people realize. A slight change in appetite. A doe looking ready to kid. A fence that needs reinforcing.
And sometimes, when the day winds down, the kids and I look through old photos of the farm.
Pictures of kids being bottle-fed.
Moments when the herd looked especially proud under the afternoon sun.
Snapshots of weekends that felt simple and full.
It reminds us that farming is never just about land or livestock.
It’s about the people who care for them.
The families who grow up around them.
And the quiet commitment to keep things moving forward—even when fuel prices make the road a little harder to travel.
Because one way or another, the farm is always close.
Even from a distance. 🌾🐐
