My daughter (turning 6 by the end of next month) and I were on a jeepney that same Sunday morning just after we attended church. We were on our way to the city around 18 kilometers from our town. We sat near a mother who cuddled her more than a year old (to my knowledge) boy. She was with other two mothers and two grade school-aged girls.
Upon sitting down I noticed the group not to be locals in our place or anywhere around Northern Luzon because of the way this mother carried her young boy --- with a sling cloth. The Igorot tribe, whom I am one, also carry their toddlers with a sheet cloth, but this group didn't look like one. They spoke in a dialect that seems I've heard before and I guessed them to be Badjao's, a small tribe in Southern Mindanao. Sometimes they are referred to as sea gypsies because they live along coastlines floating on sea. I softly asked them if where are they from. The woman beside me smiled and said, "Basilan."
Basilan is a province also in Southern Mindanao long known as a battleground between the government soldiers and Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF) and other groups of bandits. Currently, the mountains of the said province is a haven for the Abu Sayyaf group, an Islamic terrorist.
It was in the mid '80s, I was in highschool when I first read stories in newspapers about the peace and order situations in Basilan. The residents are generally of the Muslim tribes. Recently, however, 14 marine soldiers who were with the batallion to rescue Fr. Carlo Bossi, an Italian Catholic priest assigned in the area, kidnapped by members of the Abu Sayyaf, were killed in an encounter.
Knowing Basilan to be war and poverty-stricken usually drive away the residents to nearby regions just like what this group with us in the jeepney did and decided to come north probably to find peace. As our conversation went comfortably, I slowly asked again if they belong to Muslims. They softly answered, "Hindi po. Badjao kami." (No, we are Badjao's). I was right with my earlier guess. I've seen some of them before in my travels to other cities in Luzon roaming the streets. I asked them if they have relatives around whom they visited but said, nobody. "Mahirap ang buhay sa Basilan," (Life in Basilan is so difficult). According to them they just ride and walk, ride and walk to any direction their feet would find them and beg for food. They spend their nights along street corners. It was visible though on how they looked --- tired, rugged and hungry.
I asked my daughter to give to the thin young boy, one apple fruit from the four pieces she was carrying while I continued to tell the group to hang on to life's challenges. Knowing the conditions of Badjao people in the Philippines ever since, I cannot help but pray for material help to reach them. I cannot give more than anything to these souls beside me but told them that our physical bodies are just temporary here on earth, so that even though how difficult circumstances are to each one, there is still Someone who loves and truly cares for us. I wondered though if they believed what I told them when in fact, materially, they are not well taken cared of. Nevertheless, I can see traces of happiness on their faces no matter how tough life for them is.
Finally, I said to the woman beside me, "Do you believe in Jesus Christ the Saviour?" I was so delighted to hear her answer, "Yes, I believe in Him. I just don't know with others." Her second statement seemed askew with the first one but her answer made me more comfortable to share to them the goodness of God even though many times we don't understand why we have to suffer poverty, wars and many pains that our physical and temporal bodies have to bear. If we personally believe in Him and ask Him to become our Saviour, then we are assured that once the time comes for us to leave this world, our souls will surely go home to our God to His kingdom in Heaven.
Reaching the city, we all parted with smiles and blessings. My daughter and I left them with their chorous of, "Thank you."
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