From down the hill with Gerry Cordero

Ateneans are told that after they graduate, they go 'down from the hill' as a reminder of their capability to help others. Everyone thinks that if you study in Ateneo, you hold a particular privilege that not everyone has.

For Gerry Cordero (AB EU 2018), he didn't necessarily have to descend from the hill, but rather, he had to learn how to be comfortable with the way his fellow Ateneans perceive it. From very humble beginnings to today, Gerry continues to serve people in the best ways he can. 

"One of the key things that people have to understand about my stay in Ateneo was that I was a scholar. Initially, I had a problem with the 'down from the hill' mentality because I already came from down the hill," Gerry says as he reflects on his early days hearing about Ignatian values. From freshman to sophomore year, he would go home and ask his mother, "Why aren't we like this?" daily. He was surrounded by people who, in his eyes, had everything he only dreamed of having. 

"During my public school days, going to McDonald's means you're celebrating. In Ateneo, people go to McDo because they're broke," he says. The culture shock hit Gerry like a truck that always reminded him that he was different.

Gerry recalls one time his professor asked one of his classmates about the little things they take for granted. A private vehicle going home, food readily available, not thinking about responsibilities other than your needs, etc. "It might be irrelevant to others, but these things add up, which was my reality. I had to worry about everything my classmates didn't have to do."

However, as he grew older, and even up until his graduation, Gerry realized that whatever an Atenean's socio-economic status is, going 'down from the hill' is not coming from a place of financial privilege but because it's simply just service for others. Not just "the other" but because they are other fellow human beings.

Today, Gerry is a single father and the chef and owner of Sundays With Gerry, his own food business that only started with Php 1000. He handles all operations, from development to promotion and cooking. But this wasn't something he dreamed of initially. Gerry's business came out of necessity. 

He was broke, burnt out from a corporate job, and was drinking his days away. Cooking wasn't something he expected he would fall in love with. When Gerry's father passed away, he had to be the one to cook at home. He only remembered how his dad would make the dishes the family enjoyed eating. "I then realized I could replicate recipes almost perfectly by observing. That's how I gained a new passion," Gerry says.

He initially started as someone who personally delivered student meals to Ateneo. More people would order daily based on word of mouth around campus. Two months later, the Facebook group chat for orders had maxed out its capacity. He did this for about a year until the COVID-19 pandemic came and forced everyone to stay home. This was the push he needed to finally step out of the Ateneo echo chamber and open his food business to the public. 

"I had to change my menu a lot. Almost every month, I had to pivot because I was trying to catch up to the trends. I wanted to do everything which was all over the place," he notes. Despite expanding his business operations, he stayed true to what he always did—waking up early to buy fresh ingredients from the market and cook them all on the same day. He would do this daily. All while raising a daughter on his own. 

Nowadays, Sundays with Gerry is in a much more stable state. Gerry developed a core menu that people regularly come back to. He has come a long way from what started as student meals turned family sets to now being able to handle bulk orders such as large-scale catering services. And yet, he doesn't let this change. He has always been a "man for others." 

Despite the financial struggles and the lack of job security, Gerry always went out of his way to help. He regularly did charity work such as delivering home-cooked food to orphanages, giving extra portions to delivery drivers, and providing meals at evacuation centers. 

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Gerry recalls hearing a child happily say it was their first time eating a particular dish he made, and it instantly clicked for him why he does what he does. "The concept of 'down from the hill' didn't even enter my mind. I just did it because they needed it. Not because it's my duty but because I know what it feels like to be hungry. I didn't want anyone else to feel that."

Because he had experienced seeing himself as an outlier, Gerry knew that was something no one deserved.

The one thing he wishes to teach his daughter is that "whenever you help someone, always remember that they are still human and they have dignity. You uphold that dignity. You are equal. You just happen to be in a different place than me."

Gerry's story is not meant to look down on those who already found themselves in a privileged state but rather a call to change how people perceive going down the hill. What is down from that hill? What is down there that you need to go down to? And why do you still feel elevated when you're already going down with other graduates? What's keeping you up there? These are questions Gerry poses whenever he sees others who help for the sake of self-satisfaction or to gain public recognition. 

There were numerous times in Gerry's 3-year journey when he wanted to quit. Some months, he barely had any orders or was too busy cooking to spend time with his daughter. Despite these challenges, Gerry perseveres.

"I know this is going somewhere. It's just that the uncertainty is difficult to accept." The hope that 2-3 years down the line, he gets to a place where he has spent most of his life seeing others efficiently react is what keeps Gerry going. He dreams of opening up a restaurant of his own to share his cooking with family, friends, and everyone else. 

When asked about the best part of the job, Gerry recalls a very simple moment he had after cooking food for a group of titos and titas. After eating, one approached Gerry and said, "You'll go far. And I hope I'm alive to see it." Another similar scenario happened when a mother told him that she hoped her daughters would grow up to be as hard-working and driven as Gerry. Often, he finds himself thinking that he has to live up to these compliments. To be the man that others believe him to be. He admits that he doesn't always succeed but constantly strives to be as consistent as possible. 

"I can't fail at this. It's my duty to myself, my family, my daughter, and to the people that have made it possible for me to get to this point. I have to see it through. I have to make sure that it goes to the places that I've dreamt it to go." Gerry says. 

When all the pieces fall into place, Gerry will be able to establish his restaurant. But he won't be stopping there. The other side of his dream is to have scholars of his own. He wants to give people a chance to realize their potential without being hindered by what life has given them. Gerry admits that there were times when he didn't deserve his scholarship. But he could finish because he was constantly given a chance to prove himself. That's what he wants to give other people: a chance. 

Gerry has reached so many lives from his little kitchen at home with his food. What started as a found passion is now a dream he constantly fights for. Despite having limited resources, he remains a "man for others." For Gerry, there is no secret recipe for being kind. It's just something he does. And one day, he hopes to inspire others to do the same. In the meantime, let him cook.