Mom showed you can be honest in gov’t — even in DPWH

In these times when the Department of Public Works and Highways is in the limelight because of ghost and substandard projects, I remember my mother, who at one time was the materials testing supervisor of the DPWH Marinduque District.

I used to visit her at her office located in a separate building in the DPWH compound at lunch time. My mother was not a famous person, nor did she hold a high position in government. She was a simple employee of the DPWH, but she carried herself with a quiet dignity that spoke louder than any title. For her, public service was not just a job — it was a matter of honor.

At a time when stories of corruption often shadowed government agencies, my mother stood as a light of integrity. She believed that serving in government was a sacred trust between the employee and the Filipino people. Every document she signed, every report she prepared, and every peso she handled, she treated as if the whole nation was watching because, in her mind, it was.

At home, she would often remind us: “Ang pera ng gobyerno ay pera ng tao (The government’s money is the people’s money).” That simple statement guided her actions throughout her years in the service. She never accepted “tokens of gratitude” or “small favors,” even when they were innocently offered.

I was a witness when she returned a basket of goodies to a contractor, who happened to be our relative, despite the relative pleading that she accept the gift because it was Christmas anyway. To her, honesty wasn’t negotiable — it was who she was.

There were times she could have passed failed tests of sand, cement, and steel or joined others in bending the rules, but she never did. She said it wasn’t worth losing her peace of mind or her good name. “Mas masarap matulog sa gabi kapag malinis ang konsensya at pangalan mo,” she would say with a smile. (“You sleep very well when your conscience and name are clean”)

Her honesty sometimes made her the odd one out. Some colleagues found her “too strict,” others called her “old-fashioned.” But her integrity earned her quiet respect and genuine admiration.

As I look back, I realize that my mother’s greatest legacy wasn’t the years she spent in the government service — it was the values she instilled in us. From her, I learned that true success isn’t measured by promotions or plaques of recognition, but by how faithfully one serves others with honesty and humility.

Today, when I see the DPWH continuing its mission to build roads, bridges, and public infrastructure across the country, I think of my mother. She may not have built those structures herself, but she built something even stronger—a foundation of integrity that continues to inspire those of us who follow her example.

My mother proved that you don’t need power to make a difference. You only need character. And in her quiet way, she showed that the truest kind of public service begins with an honest heart.