Starting over, one brew at a time
Over 6,000 cups have been served since Ex-Preso began—not from a grand plan, but from grace, says Fr. Jun-G Bargayo Jr., SJ, the executive director of the Philippine Jesuit Prison Service Foundation (PJPS). When the PJPS formation house opened on July 2, eight PRLs (persons restored of liberty) entered the program. A week later, someone donated a food cart. “Why not try coffee?” Fr. Bargayo Jr. thought.
And so, with the help of Fr. Albert Garong, SSP, a coffee aficionado, they acquired a machine.
A rediscovery of purpose and dignity
Suddenly, the coffeemakers were learning to brew new beginnings first by faith, then by practice.
“Initially, we struggled with the name,” Fr. Bargayo Jr. recalls. And a lot of them were hesitant, wanting to hide their past as PDLs. But everything changed the day they served coffee at the Ateneo during the Feast of St. Ignatius. Fear, shame, and inadequacy melted into warm acceptance.
For these men, Ex-Preso is more than a livelihood. It is liberation in a cup, a rediscovery of purpose and dignity.
Freedom, however, is complicated. “It isn’t easy for someone who has been confined for years,” Fr. Bargayo Jr. explains. “The world they returned to isn’t the world they remember.” That is why PJPS’s three-month psychospiritual formation is essential. It is a program designed to heal the spirit and to help them regain their self-worth. The program teaches the rhythm of prayer and work, financial literacy and basic entrepreneurship, conflict resolution, and the art of starting over.
After formation comes the deployment phase—a rebirth. The goal there is clear: For every Ex-Preso barista to one day co-own a cart, to be their own boss, and to serve hope with every brew. Many PDLs are, in fact, entrepreneurship graduates from the University of Perpetual Help’s extension program—proof that education, even behind bars, can transform lives.
To them, the cart is not merely a dispenser of caffeine. It is a small business on wheels and a classroom—where patience is practiced, discipline is learned, and where service becomes an offering of gratitude.
Mark’s story of pride
Mark remembers laughing when Fr. Bargayo Jr. said that he would one day manage a coffee cart. After six years and four months in prison, he had lost confidence. He could not look people in the eye; unworthiness had become a habit.
Then Ex-Preso arrived. Within a month, Mark, who admitted he had no skills, learned to drive, to pull a perfect espresso, to tinker with and repair a coffee machine, and slowly, to reclaim himself. “Kung hindi ako nakulong, malamang patay na ako,” he recalls.
Today, Mark is living his best life: free of vice, earning from honest work, and with self-respect. With a smile, he says, “I never imagined people would talk to me, thank me, and even smile—because of my coffee.”
His scars remain, but so does grace. Before Ex-Preso, he was hiding. Now, he’s seen! His proudest moment? Hearing his mother say she is proud of him.
Armel’s story of acceptance
Armel spent 21 years behind bars—a “colorful captivity,” he muses. During that time, he earned a degree in commerce, majored in entrepreneurship, and volunteered as a teacher. When freedom finally came, it was not what he expected. He intimates that he prayed for release but should have prayed to be ready instead.
He was haunted by anxiety and chose to live apart from family, admitting that it’s hard to give what you don’t have. While he is currently working to piece himself together to eventually go home healed, restored, and complete, Ex-Preso has given him the chance to piece himself back together. So with each cup Armel brews, he utters a prayer, whispered for whoever will drink it. This, he says, is his way of giving back.
He has accepted that some will still continue to judge him. “I can’t change how they see me. But I can work on becoming better,” says Armel.
His specialty is “C’ARMEL” Macchiato, the drink named after me, he chuckles. “Imagine, galing po ako sa loob, na-spell ko ang macchiato!” The joke lands, but behind it is courage. Armel is able to dream again. His hopes are modest and mighty at once—to own a small home, support his child, live quietly, and help those still waiting for their break of dawn.
On precision, patience, and dignity
Ex-Preso is, at heart, a ministry of restoration. It teaches precision and patience—grinding, tamping, calibrating—but also the deeper craft of dignity… showing up on time, earning trust, being accountable, and standing tall.
There is still a long road ahead. Freedom demands steady work, and healing takes time. But the smell of coffee makes the road of Ex-Preso enticing.
Six thousand cups and counting… and that’s just the beginning. Each new booking sustains livelihoods, funds formation, and tells a simple story—that people can change, with our help and a “little kindness.”
Let Ex-Preso cater your next special event and taste what hope can do. Message @thepjps.ex.preso on Instagram for inquiries and bookings
