A Tribute to a Friend Lost in War

Rolly "Payat" De Leon. He was 19 years old.

Youth Lost

There are many factors as to why we lose our way. Media plays a big role. That could be my greatest understatement by far. In a situation where children are left to themselves and learn about the world through exploring their environment on their own, society's mistakes take their toll.

We must protect the young. We must shield them from evil. We must prepare them for the world. We must do these because they are us and we, them.  

First Communion (Again)

It has been more than five years since I last took communion. I believe in God. The church or religion in general for that matter are different things.

Indifference. This has always been my attitude towards anything of this sort for years now. Much like my indifference for voting and politics.

Tonight, something was different. Perhaps it was the sermon of the priest who was so real and honest and even flat out human as opposed to pompous pricks who pretend to be self-righteous all the time just because they wear the vestments.  Do not get me wrong. It was nothing miraculous or "holy". It wasn't divine or gloriously spectacular. It was simple. I'm tired of pretending to be smart enough to carry the truths (perceived of course) of the world on my own. Surrender...

Faith. I don't even know what that really is but maybe just maybe it's now time to find out. Being raised in a catholic family and going to a catholic school through all of my formal education taught me a lot of things about religion. It expects blind obedience. It expects rational human beings to submit to the metaphysical teachings and the omniscience of its foundations.

I got up from my seat and felt the eyes of my parents on me as they have not seen me do this for years. I slowly made my way towards the end of the line and slowly paced along with the other people taking communion. I dragged my feet. I felt ashamed to look up and just bowed my head. I couldn't shake the feeling of being ashamed I was there. In that line. I guess it was pride, that I was swallowing a large portion of my previous beliefs system. Or maybe, that I felt I did not deserve to have the host in my body. I apologize for the personal content of this entry. Maybe some of you might know what I speak of in this.

Filipino Religion is Filipino Culture

Pinoy faith is said to be among the strongest in the world. That is true for both Islam and Christianity, the two dominant religions in the country. Ever since I was a boy, my parents would always take us on what is called the "Visita Iglesia" where we would go around various churches around the country and go through the stations of the cross. One station at each church stop until we got through all of them. I think there are 15 now as updated by the Vatican as opposed to the 13 when i was younger.

This year, we stayed in Metro Manila and went through several churches in the metropolis. I must say that it was very odd. I haven't done this with my family in years and there seemed to be a lot less people making the rounds than there were when I was younger. Then I thought of all the vacation spots here and abroad where most people probably went during these long holidays. Those places must be packed... I told myself in silence.

Times are changing. Then I thought of all the holidays throughout the year (Filipinos are very fond of long holidays) and noticed that just perhaps, because of the faster lifestyles people live today, we would rather make use of these traditionally religious occasions and get some time off from the world and de-stress or whatever it is that we do away from work. To be honest. I would have rather gone to Caliraya that day.

The Vote

An elderly pure blooded Aeta woman with her back turned against a bright red table in the afternoon. She faces a setting sun.

It was election time. Local government candidate campaigns were in full swing even reaching the indigenous Pastulan Tribe in the mountains of Subic Bay. Each vote was priced at 500 pesos. A large sum that would feed a large family with zero regular income for at least a week.

The red table was used by the armed goons of a local mayoral candidate to facilitate the distribution of cash to the voters in the tribe. I hid in the bushes while the vote buying happened and took this photo a few minutes after the armed men left the site. Just as the light was perfect and the sun was setting. I was struck by this scene of an elderly lady. It was as if she had turned her back on the evil ways of the new world and opted to resign herself to the setting sun of olden times, of her ancestors, of a time past and gone into the shadows of memory.

Payat

His name was Payat. During a 2 month stay with an Aeta tribe in the mountains surrounding Subic Bay, this teenager (he was 17 at the time) was my guide and my friend.

He was what the tribe referred to as a mestizo. 1 part Aeta and the other half Tagalog. It's funny how they are seen the same way we in Metro Manila would conventionally see our "mestizo's". With a bit of admiration for their distinct physical features brought by the intermarriage of their parents who are from two different races. Payat loved hip-hop music or anything involving African American artists. The youth of the tribe were able to relate to these foreign artists so well primarily because of their dark skin. Little do they know how similar they really are in terms of the plight for true freedom and being treated as second class citizens just as African Americans were treated for most part of the 20th century and earlier. Mass media had been so effective in the infiltration of the culture of the Aeta youth that common vices we in the Metro see as unfit for children have become common practice for them. Smoking, drinking, and even drugs and casual sex have become a "teenager's thing". You will find the same scenario with the youth in urban slums with the only difference being that the Aetas had a glint of innocence in their eyes while they took long drags on their joints.

It was a hot summer in 2007 when a forest fire suddenly broke out in the hills around the main village. For the most part, SBMA (Subic Bay Metropolitan Authority) Forest Rangers were responsible for safe keeping the ancestral domains of the Pastulan Tribe. A number of these Rangers were Aetas as well.

Payat shouted, "nasusunog ang bundok, tulungan natin and mga ranger, atin to!". Together with a couple other kids, we ran as fast as we could up rocky hillsides for more than 30 minutes to get to the nearest hill that caught fire. Payat led the other boys and as they gathered large tree branches with green leaves to put out the flames with.

Apo Tambo

"Apo", in traditional Alibata (an ancient written language indigenous to the Philippines) means grandfather or elder. I met this wonderful man in an ancestral village situated in the mountain range surrounding Subic Bay back in 2007. He was 107 years old at the time and still jumping around up and about all day.

Apo Tambo, as he was affectionately called, was the last and final member of the Pastulan Tribe who knew how to read and write in ancient Alibata. I asked him if he was able to teach any of the youth in the Aeta tribe the dying language. He simply shook his head and told me that none of the younger members of the tribe had an interest in the craft. He added that most of the youth would rather learn more about hip-hop music and spend time on their cellular phones.

Youth

At a Time when things were simple and uncomplicated. In a Place where the world was calm.

A good heart. A strong mind. The will to make something worthwhile. These are the things we want our children to aspire to. To make something of themselves. To build and create with good things at heart.

We grow older. We lose sight of the basics and give in to the noise that surrounds everyday life. We lose focus. We surrender to what we are accustomed to. We find ourselves in Places unfamiliar and dark.

These are our stories. Our journeys. All about being human.