Amidst Nature and Culture in Lake Sebu

The rays of the morning sun crept slowly from the mountaintop and covered the lake with golden light. As the mist vanished, water lily blooms opened leisurely to drink in the sun's radiance. Only the sound of frogs croaking, birds chirping and fish surfacing from the water greeted me as I watched life unfolds in the mystical and historical Lake Sebu.

Nestled within the Allah valley of South Cotabato, Lake Sebu is the heart of the ancestral domain of the T'boli and Ubo. Though a number of tourist resorts flocked its banks, it continuously fosters a culture and tradition that the people of the lake struggle to preserve nowadays. 

The best way to experience that culture and tradition is to explore the place and get to know its people. A short distance from the Mountain Lake Eco Resort where my colleagues and I were housed in was a village of T'boli living through farming in the hills and fishing in the lake. That magnificent morning, I laced up my running shoes, strapped on my camera and followed the trail towards the village. 

However, the I found it still sleeping so I decided to take a run beyond and to fill my lungs with the fresh mountain air. It was a beautiful trail with forest growth and corn fields in either side of the mountain. The lake was seen below and the blue mountains from afar. It was a lonely road with no cars or motorcycles passing by that hour in the morning, thus it was indeed ideal for people like me who prefers the tranquility of nature. 

On the trail, I met some farmers on their way to the fields with their warm greetings of "Maayong aga!" or good morning. I also happen to meet some T'boli children on their way to school which was obvious from their backpacks. Their shy glances and gentle smiles encouraged me to befriend them and soon enough they were posing for the camera and giggling at the sight of their photos. It was a wonderful experience and it was also a sign that the once sleeping village was stirring to life so I turned around and went back. 

The smoke billowed from the kitchens of the houses and the fragrant smell of coffee and breakfast welcomed me to the village. I was about to make my presence known when a woman's voice from inside one of the houses shouted,"Dayon!" telling me to come inside her house. 

I quickly removed my shoes and socks and climbed up the stairs of the traditional gono (house) of the T'boli. It was made of bamboo walls and floors and was built on stilts six feet from the river bank. Inside it was minimal space with wide shelves on all four sides that could serve as beds, lounge, tables and other possible uses. There was only one big window that opened to the view of the lake and our resort. The owner of the gono was very accommodating despite the chaos of the household full of little children. In all the goings-on, she introduced me to her mother who was weaving a mat near the big window. 

She could not speak any other dialect aside from her native tongue so I contented myself with watching her work. While she was weaving, she tried talking to me and somehow I heard the word monom and suddenly I got even more interested. It so happened that monom is a familiar word to me since I heard it mentioned and even saw it being done several times by the Teduray and the Lambangian of Maguindanao. Knowing that these tribes who are miles away from each other share a similar weaving tradition or monom was another stone in the pile of knowledge on the traditional kinship between and among the indigenous groups of Mindanao. 

It was an amazing learning experience indeed and as I left the gono saying my thanks and my farewells, I wondered how many people like me had braved that extra mile to reach out and get to know other people's culture and tradition and eventually strip themselves of their discrimination and biases.

Little did I know that I would find the answer to my question in the caption of a photograph of a gono hanging on the wall of our resort later that day. It said that the gono traditionally had a rolled-up ladder to keep intruders (i.e strangers like me) out. The warm welcome that the T'boli household gave me only showed the great capacity of humans to interact, accept and learn from each other. 

Tey bong nawa hu kuy, Lake Sebu! Thank you!

Positive Reinforcement: The Breakfast of our Little Champions

"Swimmers, take your mark!" I can feel the blood pumping and rushing to my head as I waited for the single beep that would start the competition. I focused my eyes on the clear blue water of the pool and the colorful lane lines that led to the end. I held my breath and as I heard the beep, I rose to my feet and shouted, "Go Ishi!" "Go Lara!" My yells were lost when the rest of the crowd went wild as the swimmers sliced through the water and raced towards the finishing line. This was the frenzy that parents and relatives of novice swimmers created during the Southern Mindanao Swimming Association's Novice Meet in Paraiso Verde Resort and Water Park in Koronadal City on June 1, 2013. 

Watching my nieces, Ishi, 10 and Lara, 8 donned training caps and swimsuits representing the
Jeorgetown Swim Club in the meet was heartwarming enough. But watching them prove their endurance and strength in the 25-meter freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke and backstroke as well as in the individual kickboard and relay events, deserved most of my adoration and respect for these girls. With just a month of training, they braved the competition with hesitation that they may fail at first. And I salute my sister, their Nanay Sherly for encouraging both of them that it is not about winning; it's about gaining experience and learning from the event. This, plus the enduring patience of their coaches and of course, the wavepool and the tour of the city factored in building their confidence to join the swimming meet. 

It was a long day with 170 swimmers and 13 heats for every event and it almost took its toll on my nieces but our support and encouragement helped them made it through the day. As I massaged Ishi's back and made her laugh with my quips, I remembered how my parents used to encouraged us to work hard and do our best in everything we do because learning comes with it. When you fail, you know you did your best and when it's time to push yourself again, you know what to do to achieve your goals. Positive encouragement, this is what it is called. And this was what their coaches, their teammates and most of all, their parents did to bring home the bronze. 

Invading the Nest: Mystical El Nido

The blue waves lapping and the boats lining at the shore, the coarse white sand and the towering limestone cliffs greeted me in that early morning of April 18, 2013. After eight gruelling hours of land travel from Puerto Princesa, finally my senses were overwhelmed by the breathtaking sights, sounds and scents of El Nido, Palawan. But the mystical experience had just begun.

Taking a guided tour, we were brought to various islands, beaches and lagoons, each with their own distinct magnificence. First of these destinations was the Helicopter Island which was famous for its shape even from afar. As soon as the boat docked on its beach, we jumped off it and explored the deserted island excitedly.

Coming very close to the foot of the famous limestone cliff, we couldn't help but looked up, scaled its height and wondered how many crevices it had. The sound of the swiftlets or balinsasayaw nesting on its crevices can be heard from where we stood. This would be the first of the many limestone cliffs that we would see and touch in the tour.

After a short dip in Helicopter Island’s beach, we hopped off to find the Hidden Beach which opening was concealed by a protruding limestone formation from the sea. The water was still high so we had to swim our way in. That’s bad news since I couldn’t bring my DSLR so I only had my eyes to take in the beauty. Maybe that’s why it got its name as well. But being Pinoy, I took the chance of taking videos of my nieces and their eagerness to swim to test their skills straight from summer swimming class.  

Next off, we invaded the Secret Lagoon which was nestled in an island filled with tourists lounging on the sand. The smell of grilled food made our mouths water as it dawned on us that it was already lunch time. While our tour guides cooked our food, we went off to find the secret lagoon. We literally had to claw our way in a small hole that could fit two persons before finding it. After that, we had our lunch under the coconut trees and then we took some time to discover the small limestone formations in front of the Secret Lagoon Beach. 

Our next destination brought us to Matinloc Shrine which required a great deal of leg muscle power to climb up the limestone cliff to the viewing deck on top. It was good to know that the tips of the pointy rocks were evened out to make steps for people to easily ascend. After the huffing and puffing, we finally reached the deck and "postcard perfect" could not even give justice to the beauty that greeted us. Overlooking blue water surrounded by limestone cliffs, it was the most heavenly feeling one can have in that place. 

But since the deck could only hold a few people, we didn't linger as more and more tourists climbed. We went down and sought the other sights. My devout Catholic parents took time in the chapel found in the area. A statue of Mama Mary inside a big crevice in a limestone cliff was also a sight to behold. 

Not long after, we sailed on to our next destination which required us to travel in a narrow sea channel bordered by limestone cliffs that made me feel like Captain Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean. It was quite a long channel and the captain slowed down the boat intentionally for us to take in that overwhelming feeling of coming out of the narrow channel towards the Big Lagoon. The dark blue color of its water told us that it was really deep and our guides didn't allow us to jump in it without our life vests which made it easy for us to swim farther from the dock. It was tranquility at its best as I floated and absorbed the stillness of the water and the sound of birds chirping overhead. It was so serene  as well as astounding.  

Alas, we went on to the last of our tour from the Big Lagoon to the Small Lagoon. It was smaller than the Big Lagoon only because it was narrower but it was longer. Though I already felt the weariness of the day-long tour, the prospect of entering a cave which was at the end of the narrow lagoon posed a challenge to swim towards it. As I started paddling, my mini-me niece Lara tagged along the lengthy swim with other tourists. Though it was a feat, the thrill felt inside the cave was indeed a memorable prize for taking the challenge. 

As we were sailing back to the main town of El Nido with the sun about to set behind us, I basked myself in the great feeling of achieving a goal that I had been aiming since college. With a plan in hand and the passion to realize the plan, I have done it and I couldn't be more proud of myself. 

Next destination, please!

Dreams of Sugar Fields

Jasmine scent and the sun at rest

Flower pillows and blanket of mist
Horizons painted in golden light
I will dream of sugar fields tonight.

Soft whispers and fervent kisses

Cheery laughter warms empty spaces

Tangled sheets soaked in moonlight

To dreams of sugar fields tonight.

Sweet memories of those days of summer

Of music, mountain breeze and spring water

And you warm and sweet right by my side

Dreaming of us in the sugar fields tonight.

By a Warrior's Daughter

Together in good and bad:
Mamang and Papang enjoying their moments
a year after the cancer diagnosis

"I just want to let you know that your mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Let's all be strong and pray for her." 

I could hear the tremble in my father's voice on the other side of the line while I tried to absorb the the truth of what he shared. No, it couldn't be Mamang. It just couldn't be true. 

Carmelita, my mother is a powerhouse just by herself. Coming from the rigid and proud Ilocandia, in her blood flows the strict discipline of our ancestors. This entails hard work and perfection in everything you do and everything you have and hope to achieve. And to be able to do this, one must put his or her health on the pedestal. Hence, Ilocanos are known for their excessive regard for strong body, sharp mind and relentless spirit. 

To know that our home's source of strength and stability was diagnosed with stage two breast cancer was a fact that I couldn't understand and accept at that time. But as my father related to me that when my mother was rolled out of the operating room after her mastectomy sobbing in pain, I was reminded that even warriors get wounded and humbled in the fight.

It was indeed a tumultuous battle for my mother. I remembered the moment when she was hesitant to undergo mastectomy to remove the affected breast. The fear to go under the knife for the first time was understandable but it was also a significant turning point in her life when her relentless resolve was a necessity. 

As we await her decision, we needed to remind ourselves that it was first and foremost her own battle and that we should take a step back from telling her what to do. In effect, it was challenging dilemma for us. We wanted her to undergo mastectomy but at the end of the day, it was a decision she could only make. 

But as Vaclav Havel in his poem shared, hope is the quality of the soul and does not depend on the outside world. It is the direction of the spirit and the direction of the heart. 

It was that one warm morning in March 2010 that we realized the ferocity of our mother's determination to fight. We received a message from here that made us hope once again.  

It read, "I have decided to undergo the operation. I have decided to live more." 

On December 11, 2012, my mother turned sixty-six and cancer-free. After two years, she continues to live strong and inspiring more people to take the power back with regards to their health and their well-being. 

The warrior had finally risen to win the battle. 

Two years after the mastectomy, Mamang basks in the love
and company of family

She is, however not alone. She had mentored and inspired thousands of students in her life including us, her children, her nieces and nephews and her grandchildren. The boundless passion and determination to be the best that one can be have been stamped in the hearts and minds of those lives she has touched.

The world is filled with people who strive to pursue their dreams. We are the warriors of our time; getting better and better day by day. 

More than Just a Playground

As I watched the children frolic at the beach and the warm waters of that late afternoon, I silently touched the fine white sand I was sitting on and felt the rushing waves nipping at my feet. Everything overwhelmed my senses. The sound of the waves breaking in to shore, the scent of the ocean, the feel of the breeze on my skin and the sound of laughter and conversations filled me up just like the old days. This place used to be my playground, my source of unadulterated joy and freedom. However, as I reflected on how it firstly greeted me earlier that day, I wonder if I am still welcome to feel its warmth. 


Temporarily closed. This is the sign that greeted me as I approached. Barbed wires surrounded my playground and a closed gate warded off unauthorized people to enter it.

We've been warned about this before thus, we bore an authorization from the vice-mayor of our hometown to let us enjoy the place. 

However, seeing the sign and the barricade for the first time still brought a pain that every unwelcome child feels. It took me a moment to let the reality sink in. Just when I started to feel sad, the sound of the waves engulfed me and the warmth of the blowing wind eased the gloom away. Suddenly, I began to feel the familiar tug; the beach pulling me towards it. 

As I sat down and watched my nieces and nephews indulged in its waters and played with its sand, I remembered that I used to do the same with total abandon. Those were good and carefree moments of a child.

But as a grown-up, you began to look beyond the surface, ask questions and find the answers. How come that such a beautiful sanctuary, a perfect place made for fun and reflection was now closed and restricted to most people? Doesn't everybody deserve the comfort of paradise in their busy and hurried lives? Doesn't every child deserve such a majestic playground? 


I stood up and decided to take a walk along the beach to clear my mind. The kids, however ran after me and joined me in my walk. Their lively chatter about finding fish, crabs, snails and starfish trapped in the water pools in the rock formation at the other side of the beach filled me up with the same excitement when I was as young as them and suddenly these questions were forgotten. 

I joined them as they sought for treasures they could find; their shrills and giggles filled the air. Among other adults, I answered their questions about the sea creature they found and reminded them not to take the fish and crustaceans out of the water. 

Moving my camera lens down to take pictures of the sources of their fascination, I found something that provided the answers to those temporarily forgotten questions. 

A slipper was washed in along by the waves to the water pools. It was well-worn and was obviously thrown to the water as trash. I could not stop feeling disappointed and angry for such an irresponsible act. As I calmed myself down, I was about to realize that the feeling of disappointment, frustration and anger had just began.

Retracing my steps, I took time to explore every nook and cranny of the beach. However, in that certain time, I wasn't looking for treasures. I was looking for answers and I didn't have to dig for them for they were laid down in plain sight. 

The sand was littered by garbage. Empty bottles and plastic wrappers of junk food and candies were left by beach-goers without a care. This was how they repaid the free reception the beach offered. 

Yes, this was an open beach that welcomed everyone without payment in return. It used to be a playground for every child and a haven for every person. 

It was then that I fully absorbed and understood the necessity of closing it down to most people. However, what I couldn't fathom was the fact that no one picked the garbage up and cleaned the beach. 

The sign did say, "Temporary closed. Development On-Going". I would rather have a sign saying, "Open for Saving". 

This is not merely a post. This is more of an advocacy. 

Kalamansiguenos, let us take that sign down, flock to the beach and clean it up. And more than that, let us encourage everybody most especially our local decision-makers to create an ordinance and fully-implement policies on the protection of our natural environment. 

Because this beach is more than just a playground. It is Home.

Flying Kites and Living Dreams

Source: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/GIRISH_KUMAR/message/32040 

I woke up one day and saw through my window, two little kites flying and heard the shrill voices of kids urging the kites to go higher.

Suddenly, I remembered the good old days when my playmates and I would race to the fields flying our kites made of plastic bags and sewing thread. We flew our kites to grab the chance of the sun shining and the wind blowing at their best in summer. Amidst the trickling sweat and bleeding cuts in our fingers from making the kites and holding the thread for a long time until boredom got to us, we didn't get tired because it was fun.

As we go grew up, we left most of the things we cherished when we were still kids. We set our treasured toys aside, sometimes hid them in our own chests. But we always fly our kites throughout our lives. However, from being simple and homemade, we accumulated other people's ideas on how to make them less wobbly and less shabby so that we may fly them with pride.

So we replaced the plastic sheets and the bamboo sticks we picked out from trash with sturdier and more colorful materials. With these, our kites became stronger against the wind and casted an array of colors against the rays of the sun but they also became heavier for us to fly.

Like kites, the simple dreams that our young minds had passionately imagined turned into bigger aspirations and greater ambitions. Just like the children I heard across the street, we kept on releasing and tugging its string, urging it to soar higher and higher. While looking at it as it pushes its way towards the sky, we kept on hoping that the strong wind will not cut its string or that the hovering clouds wouldn't bring rain. We became anxious and scared with what will happen if we were not strong enough to hold on to the string or if we were not skillful enough to gear the kite upward. We are always eager to please and oftentimes afraid to disappoint.


Above all, most of us failed to realize the reasons why we fly our kites in the first place when we were still simple-minded kids:

• to be rebels without a cause by sneaking out of the house and running as fast as we could with that smirk plastered on our faces because we broke the rules
• to meet with our friends and gang up on our frenemies
• to bask in the warm glow of the sun
• to smell the fresh and dewy scent of the grass
• to breathe in the summer scent of the blowing wind
• to hear the chirping of the birds perching on the branches of trees nearby
• to gamely bet on whose kite will come down first and last
• to run after the last kite cut by the strong wind
• to name the shapes clouds make
• to laugh at silly jokes

Therefore, we flew our kites for the simple reason of having pure and clean fun; to experience the simple joy of life.

We never really mind about the wind breaking our kites; we can always make new ones. If our kite came down, we can always just run after them and with luck, climb a fruit tree to retrieve a kite stuck on its branches. Now, we always hesitate to make mistakes; thinking one wrong move will bring all that we had planned for to complete disaster. In the end, we missed the chance of learning and bettering ourselves by picking up the broken pieces and move on. We think that it is our mistakes that will define us and not the effort of giving all our best on what we do. 

If it rained, the better so we can strip down to our underwear and chase each other across the wide open spaces; creating puddles of mud along our way. When the rain let down, we giggled at the croaks of the frogs and mocked each other's mud-stained faces. Now that we have grown up, we get afraid of getting wet and dirty because we think more of what other people will say about us. We lost ourselves by fitting-in instead of showing our personalities. We tend to walk on tightrope and losing out on what it feels like to do whatever we want to do with our endless capabilities. 

If ever we got sick, mom or dad can always just cook arroz caldo for us, tuck us in the comfort of our beds and tend to us until we get well. Now that we can take care of ourselves, we are terrified of getting sick, not because of our health but because we can't afford to lose a day at work. We don't stop and listen to our bodies yearning for rest and relaxation from our constant urge to drive ourselves more and more everyday to fulfill our seemingly unsatisfied ambitions. Worse, we forget how it is to be taken care of by others because we are busy minding our own individual lives. 

We fly our kites not because we have to nor do we live our dreams because it is what is expected of us. 

We make our kites based on what we can and not on what it should look like to others.


We should live our dreams according to what we want and not on what others want us to pursue. 

Because at the end of the day, it is us who will mend the blisters and cuts, wring our rain-soaked clothes dry, and wash our dirty faces. It is us who will wear our best smile, put on our utmost charm, prepare our ears for the endless nagging and harden our bodies to cope with the punishments that have been planned out for us when we get home. Most of all, it is us who will learn to wipe our tears dry, put ourselves to sleep and dream once more of summer skies so that we may fly our kites again.