Challenged: A reflection on Aeta community exposure

It was Sunday morning. After all the dos and don’ts, the lectures and community development inputs, we were ready to have our community exposure. Were we really ready?

Well, I’ve been to community exposures and immersions already so I did not think I wasn’t ready. The only thing was that I wasn’t feeling any excitement or whatsoever. I collected all the cellphones, put them in a bag—that’s one of the “rules” we had—and I enjoyed that. At least that time I don’t have to worry about who’s calling or texting me. It was just me and whatever I had to do in the community.

I did not know if it was a 30-minute or a 45-minute (or whatever) dusty travel from the base camp to the Aeta community. I also removed my watch. When we arrive in the community as if no one is expecting us. The District Superintendent who accompanied us gave us time to tour ourselves. When we’re out of the church (by the way, there is a UMC church in the community), everybody started walking away. I did not know where they have been but I was left alone. So what should I do then but to also go out and walk while some children started coming over.

The first child I came to know was Girlie Kate. She was with her cousin Isabel. I asked her to tour me around. We saw some children playing the improvised swing. It was made up of rubber car tire. I talked to the children, asked them what are they doing, their names and everything just to sustain conversation we had. What is amazing was the children have two names. They all have names in Sambal Botolan, the local dialect and in English. Girlie’s was Kitkit. They also speak Kapampangan.

A child asked me: Nanung lagyu mu?

What??? A mother answered me that the child was asking for my name. Oh, I see. Then I asked some of the phrases to be translated in Filipino so I could understand them and learn something from their language.

Anong ginagawa niyo pag walang pasok sa skul? (What are you doing when you’re not in school?)

Nagdadagaw (Playing). So that’s one of the hardest thing: to memorize words I only heard for the first time. I always said nagda–da– what, and the children laugh at me.

The children also asked me where I came from and what languages I speak. I told them that I came from Isabela and speak Ilocano and Tagalog. When I return the question to them they answered me: kulot po kami at tagabundok (we are curly and from the mountains). I was silence. Their answer proves that they think of themselves as inferior to other people.

Time is up! The local pastor was already there and we had to join the Sunday service. Before it started, we led the children in singing. It was a good feeling to hear the children’s Sunday school songs again. Ahhh, these were the songs I used to sing when I was a child and songs I used to teach children in my Sunday school and Vacation Church School classes. I might have just missed teaching children and that I already forgotten most of the songs and stories I used to tell.

So what could be more amazing than singing popular hymns in Sambal Botolan (or was that Kapampangan)? The Sunday service turned to be multi-lingual. The student pastor acting as the liturgist spoke and prayed in Filipino while the pastor had her sermon in the local language. She was translating everything in Filipino during the first part of her sermon but it seems to be so long that she stopped the translation. Well, I may not have understood the message but I believe it was God speaking to the people.

The next two hours after the service was spent interacting in the community. I did not know where the others went but Chikai and I were with at least ten children. I asked them to tour us and to let us visit their houses and know their family. But instead, they led us to see where they are taking a bath. My memory is bad that I forgot the name of the place. I carried a little girl on my back while we walk up and down the road.

The sun was already too hot at around 10 a.m. (wooohhh, of course I took my watch out of my pocket). I told the children we only had one hour. So we did not go down to the well (or whatever was it) but instead we stayed in the under a tree and sing songs.

No one wanted to tell stories but most children wanted to sing for us. Girlie has a very good voice at her age. It wasn’t Christmas anymore but they sung a popular OPM Christmas song. I can’t believe Chikai caught it in video and I was there singing and dancing with them.

Since we had to get back to the church at 11 a.m. and I already don’t know what time was it, I requested the children that we go back to their houses. We dropped by at Girlie’s house where we met more children and her family. We had a small talk with Nanay Chiqui, Girlie’s mother. She was informed that we will be having our immersion sometime in April and she asked me why. I had to gather my thoughts then. I wasn’t fully convince about the purpose of the immersion: for us to learn from their ways of life (so what after that?) I smiled and said that yes, we will soon be back to live with them and share their lives. I couldn’t explain myself that much as I was also wondering what change could we have for the community or are we really there for a change—fearing the acculturation, inculturation, transculturation and all sort that would affect mission.Nanay Chiqui, invited me to stay with them during the five-day immersion and I gladly say yes. So I already have a foster family ready for the April immersion. Chikai will be staying with one of Nanay Chiqui’s daughters.

We went back to the church. Chikai played larong Pinoy with the children. I could only imagine myself at their age playing the Isasara ang bulaklak, ibubukas ang bulaklak and aso’t pusa. That was really amazing that those games were passed on in ages. Those were the games we had in the 80’s but in the age of computers and high tech gadgets, those children preserved the tradition. After the games, we had our simple program with the kids. I remember when I was in grade four when we often to such with my classmates before starting our class in the afternoon. Mavish would usually sing for us while I served as the emcee; I was a no-good singer. That time, the spotlight belonged to every children who volunteered to show a talent.

It was already lunchtime when the parents fetched their children. Some children stayed outside the church and watched us eating. The elders of the church prepared us sinigang na baboy complete with puso ng saging, gabi and kankong. We invited them to dine with us but they refused for unknown reasons; perhaps they really treat their visitors like that or was it a part of their culture? I don’t know.

The community exposure ended there but as went back to Camp O’Donnell, as I began to feel my feet and arms ache, as we celebrated an well-done activity, my experience at Sta. Juliana with the indigenous people also began to set in—my mind wondering, why was God brought me there, why was He allowed me to experience yet another community of indigenous people, why did I endure the heat and the tiredness—was I there for a mission? What would the church do? What would be our share as young people? What would be my share as a leader?

I came to look back at the exposures and missions that I joined before. What happened to the communities that we visited, that we ought to strengthened? Were we able to achieve our goals? But what were our goals, anyway? Was it to give them a one time-big-time project and after the five to ten days living with them we all go back to what we were before?

I wish for now that we would be having a comprehensive framework of mission: a framework that would make each other accountable not only to the spiritual needs of the indigenous people but also to their lives after the mission; a framework that gives everyone an opportunity to participate in the mission of Christ whether your are an Aeta or a lowlander, a kulot (curly) or unat (straight); and a framework that redeems the culture of the indigenous people as no inferior to the culture of the lowlanders and that could be use to bring praise to the Creator.

photo credits: When you see me in the photo, it is taken by Johanna Mae dela Cruz a.k.a. Chikai.
View Mighty’s thoughts at umyfp.org’s Reflections.