#VOXPOPULI | Disconnected in a connected world: Aling Carmen’s odyssey to keep up in the age of progress and diversity
by Avisha Marie Fatima P. Reyes
*This essay was the winning entry for this year’s Grade 8 Essay Writing Contest held for the Humanities Festival English Olympics. The competition required Grade 8 participants to write a narrative descriptive essay answering the following prompt:
Over the past few decades, economic, technological, and even socio-political developments have propelled the quality of life of many Africans and Asians. Women have become more empowered both in the workplace, academia, and at home. There is also now a growing recognition of varying identities in the LGBTQ+ banner. Likewise, the Growth Domestic Product (GDP) of African and Asian countries, including the Philippines, has significantly progressed. And thanks to modern information and communication technology structures, international collaboration has become more efficient. This now begs the question: what will the story be like for someone who struggles with technology?
“Technology is a useful servant but a dangerous master.” This famous quote by Nobel Laureate Christian Lous Lange resonates like a distant bell tolling for Aling Carmen, a woman in her early 60s navigating the suburban streets of Quezon City. In a world where digital devices serve as the veins of modern life, pulsing with streams of information and connection, Aling Carmen feels adrift, a leaf carried by the currents of a river she doesn’t understand. The world has become a mosaic of progress: economies soar like kites catching a technological wind, diversity blossoms in vibrant hues, and voices once silenced now ring loud and clear. But beneath this brilliant canvas lies a shadow, a fissure where people like Aling Carmen fall through — a painful irony in a world so eager to connect yet so quick to exclude. Aling Carmen now lives in a society characterized by cancel culture.
Her story reveals the paradox of progress: while humanity marches toward a brighter future, the speed of change leaves behind those who cannot keep pace. This essay explores her struggle to bridge the gap between old and new, set against the backdrop of a world advancing in leaps and bounds.
The world Aling Carmen inhabits feels like an entirely different planet from the one she grew up in. In her youth, life was simple and predictable. The routines of the day revolve around face-to-face conversations and handwritten ledgers. Now, the digital age sprawls before her like an incomprehensible jungle, thick with tangled vines of apps, devices, and algorithms. The Philippines has become a beacon of progress in Southeast Asia; its 7.6% GDP growth is a testament to its growing industries. Fishermen navigate the tides with mobile weather alerts, and farmers harvest not just crops but data-driven insights.
Yet for Aling Carmen, this brave new world is as alien as the surface of the moon. Her sari-sari store remains stubbornly analog, its handwritten ledgers, a quiet defiance against a sea of QR codes and e-wallets. When customers ask to pay via GCash or Maya, she offers an apologetic smile, feeling as though she’s speaking a language no one understands anymore. Her life, rooted in paper and ink, feels like a dusty relic in a museum of sleek, glowing screens.
This isn’t just her struggle. Across the globe, older adults like Aling Carmen watch from the sidelines as progress charges forward. Kenya’s M-Pesa revolutionized banking, but many elders still rely on cash hidden under mattresses. India’s rural villages hum with the buzz of smartphones, yet older generations struggle to unlock their full potential. It’s a cruel irony: while technology claims to bridge gaps, it often deepens divides.
While Aling Carmen wrestles with the ghostly whispers of progress, her daughter Joan soars effortlessly in the digital stratosphere. Joan embodies the promise of empowerment — a phoenix rising from the ashes of a once patriarchal world. Like many women in the Philippines, where nearly 50% of corporate leadership roles are held by women, Joan thrives in the digital age. She juggles online university classes and remote freelance work, her laptop a magic wand conjuring opportunities from thin air.
For Aling Carmen, watching Joan at her laptop is like observing an artist paint with colors she cannot see. When Joan encourages her to learn, the smartphone in Aling Carmen’s hands feels alive, mocking her with its unresponsive screen. The buttons seem to shift like quicksand beneath her fingertips. Every failed attempt feels like climbing a mountain, only to slide back down into the valley of frustration.
At home, their roles reverse, an irony that stings: the empowered daughter teaching the disempowered mother, the dependent parent struggling to keep up. Progress has turned Aling Carmen’s independence into a fragile bird, its wings clipped by unfamiliar technology.
Despite her struggles, Aling Carmen finds solace in her neighborhood, a kaleidoscope of identities. Her neighbor Francis, a self-admitted gay and LGBTQ+ advocate, often stops by her store for small talk. To Aling Carmen, Francis is both a puzzle and an inspiration, a reminder that transformation — whether personal or societal — is never easy but always brave.
Francis’ resilience is a beacon in a world still grappling with acceptance. He navigates societal norms as deftly as a sailor steering through storms. Aling Carmen sometimes fumbles with pronouns, embarrassed when Francis gently corrects her. Yet, his patience plants a seed in her mind: if Francis can fight for his place in a world that often rejects him, perhaps she, too, can learn to conquer her fear of technology.
Her neighborhood becomes a metaphor for the broader world — a tapestry of old and new threads interwoven, sometimes clashing, sometimes harmonizing. Young professionals like Joan represent the future; traditionalists like Aling Carmen cling to the past; and advocates like Francis challenge everyone to rethink what inclusion means.
Change arrives one humid afternoon, not with the crash of thunder but with the quiet knock of opportunity. The Quezon City government in partnership with a Telco company initiated a program offering learning sessions to seniors to help them to be digitally literate and able — a ray of hope for those left behind by progress. The program, much like India’s rural e-learning platforms or Kenya’s outreach for digital inclusion, sparks redemption. Joan insists that her mother attend, while Francis volunteers to accompany her.
At the workshop, Aling Carmen feels like a fish out of water, surrounded by younger participants who breeze through the lessons. The trainers, however, use analogies to simplify the alien concepts: “Using a smartphone,” one says, “is like learning to ride a bicycle — you’ll wobble at first, but soon it will feel natural.” Slowly, Aling Carmen begins to grasp the basics. With each session, the fog lifts, and the phone that once mocked her now feels like a partner in her journey.
The first time she successfully processed a digital payment at her store, it was a eureka moment. The feeling is much like a mountaineer planting a flag at the summit of Mount Everest. Her customers cheer, and for the first time, Aling Carmen sees technology not as a foe but as a bridge — one that connects her to a world she thought was slipping away.
Aling Carmen’s story becomes a symbol of a deeper truth: progress is not measured solely by GDP or innovation but by the inclusivity of its reach. The Philippines, like many nations, is learning to balance rapid growth with compassionate integration. Programs that teach digital skills to the elderly or underprivileged are as vital as the technologies they aim to share.
Her journey also underscores the power of community. Joan’s insistence, Francis’ encouragement, and the government’s support became the threads that wove Aling Carmen’s transformation. Like a spider weaving its web, inclusion is a delicate but purposeful act, one that connects disparate points into a cohesive whole.
Aling Carmen’s odyssey from confusion to confidence is a testament to the resilience of the human spirit. Hers is not just a story of technological adaptation but of reclaiming dignity in a world that often forgets its elders. As she marvels at her ability to video call distant relatives and manage her store’s inventory online, she realizes she is no longer a passive observer of progress but an active participant.
Her story serves as a gentle reminder: true progress isn’t about leaving others behind but about extending a hand to bring them along. In a world that sometimes feels like it values speed over compassion, Aling Carmen’s journey is a symbol of hope — a reminder that even in the most connected age, the most meaningful connections are human ones.
*This essay underwent minor copy editing by The Science Scholar Staff.
