Recently, something changed my mind about what I considered was “difficult” for a child.  I thought, for example, that I had a tough year in grade one.  I had an injury, you see—a fractured elbow—and my arm was in cast for a long while during the year.  Because of this, I could not write nor play with my friends as my handicap impeded me from using a pencil properly and kept me from flicking a jolen or unleashing a spinning turumpo.  The only consolation I had was my very kind Lola, who went along to my classes and took notes for me so I could have something to review for my tests (which I then had to take orally).  But in general, I had an unhappy time—or so I've thought.  Now, I begin to realize that this “trouble” I had back when I was seven years old might just be a mere triviality which a whining boy made a big deal out of.  This realization, I attribute to a trip to a small community of Muslims, which has put things into perspective for me.

 

Last January 22, 2006, I went along with Ms. Agnes Reyes to the small barangay of Palangka, in Barira, Maguindanao.  Ma’am Agnes assists Bro. Crispin P. Betita, FMS, the President of Notre Dame of Marbel University, in implementing Synergeia projects in ARMM Maguindanao.  Synergeia is a coalition of various individuals, institutions, and organizations that strive to improve the quality of basic education. Synergia does this primarily by implementing systemic Reading and Mathematics programs in small communities for children from grades one to six, training teachers (as well as parents) new effective teaching methods, and developing workbooks to provide children with exercises that can develop analytical skills and creativity.  Ma'am Agnes tagged me along to Palangka to see the reality of the project beneficiaries.

 

To discover a village and a school, in Palangka, which is located in a deep area of Barira, is almost an experience of a miracle for me.  From the town proper of Parang, it would take more than an hour of Jeepney and horseback riding through rough roads, muddy grounds, tall grass and shrubs before you get to Palangka.  In the journey, you'll see the scenic expanse of grasslands and mountains of Maguindanao faraway and hear beautiful sounds made by various birds and insects atop the trees. You will however also see the war-torn places, a small stronghold of the Philippine army that is still operational up to now, and “ghost villages” or places where communities once lived but are now sadly gone.  And when you are with people who know the place (like we were), you'll hear accounts of unjust killings of innocent individuals by the soldiers there, the strong presence of the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF), as well as tales of rido, a term that denotes a law of “eye for an eye”, or sad stories of rampant family feuds and wars.  Yet despite all these, a clearing comes up along the way, and suddenly there are dwellings and a lot of people. You'll learn that you have arrived in Palangka, and see that somehow, a community has indeed managed to live there.  A school stands near the entrance of the village, and though small and made only of plywood and bamboo, its mere presence in such a deep, remote and stricken place was truly an amazing sight.

 

Over a hundred people, most of which were women and children, gathered in the open area near the school for Ma'am Agnes' orientation.  One of the striking parts of the activity was when the mothers were asked “What are your dreams for your children?”  One mother started and proudly said with a loving smile at her son that she wanted him to become a Mangungukom (a lawyer).  The others followed suit by saying they wanted their kids to become engineers and teachers, and then there was laughter among the parents.  But they became a lot less joyful when they were asked about the hindrances they faced in achieving these dreams.  Some said plainly that they had no money for tuition fees.  Most in Barira are only farmers of corn and rice, and the income is enough only for food.  Others added that the school is simply not conducive for learning—there were more than 300 students in Palangka, and the school is too small, too far, and the chairs and tables are not enough.  Another mother said that one of the problems is that the government is not taking care of them. Then I realized that she was wearing a fatigue, and that's when I observed that among the many women and children in the crowd, there were some individuals who were armed with M1 Garans and even RPGs.  I later learned that they were MILFs.  I was uneasy for a while, but was not afraid.  In fact I was glad they were there, for it meant that they were willing to cooperate with people who might be able help their kids and community.  If anything, I felt sad—because I think some of them were just on their early twenties, which is my age, and they were already holding big guns. 

 

Our dialogue with them ended with a call for action.  “What can we do?” Ma'am Agnes asked them, “Because we cannot always rely on others to help us. We must also learn to help ourselves.”  The community cited small yet very concrete resolutions such as to be active in local school board meetings so that they can manage their school more effectively and to be more encouraging of their sons and daughters in attending school.  For me, their answers were sincere and I thought that was a good beginning for potential Synergia projects in Palangka.

 

All through out the activity I was observing the children.  Some were simply not listening to what's happening, but some had curious expressions on their faces as they listened intently.  I saw kids who looked calm, some had their eyebrows crossed, and others looked confused as they looked at the different people who were talking.  I wondered, do they even know that we were discussing their future?  Did they understand that we were talking about improving their education so that they can be free of illiteracy, and that they may become someday teachers, lawyers, and engineers and not the latest recruit of a separatist group and another victim of poverty?  Up to now I wonder, though I do have an inkling as to what the answer might be.  And it's probably “No”.  They are simply too young to mind what was going on.  Most probably, they were just wondering about who the speakers were because they were speaking in a strange language (Tagalog instead of Iranon), or excited about the food that these strangers brought, or maybe they could not just wait for the activity to be over so that they can play already.  And perhaps I should be glad that they were just thinking such, for after all they were just kids.  They should be carefree.  It was me who was not at peace at the thought of all the troubles that these kids were facing.  They have worse than a fractured elbow; their very living condition is their handicap, and their very future is the one at stake.

 

But I firmly believe that all is not without hope.  True, I saw the face poverty in Palangka, but I also saw the desire to work for good change.  And that can serve as a healing cast for their fractured hopes and organizations like Synergia can be the kind Lolas who can assist them along the way.  *

 

 

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