Nagsakit akong kasing-kasing pag-basa nako ani.

Usa pa: “Let’s spare our civilians. Don’t involve them in this. Do not make them part of the collateral damage..It is an act of brutality to involve innocent civilians in the ongoing conflict between the military and the Muslim rebels.”
– Cotabato Auxiliary Bishop Jose Colin Bagaforo

Mu-amin ko ug sekreto na dili patsada: ‘Mindanaoan’ ang tawag nako sa akoang kaugalingon pero sa tinuod lang, wala koy hanaw kung unsa ang gakahitabo sa Mindanao. Mu amin ko na kung makabasa ko ug balita na gi bombahan ang usa ka lugar sa Mindanao, nagapasalamat lang ko na taga Cagayan mi, na dili mi taga-Cotabato, o Iligan, o Jolo. Mu amin pud ko na usahay, kung naa na ko sa sulod sa eroplano paingon sa Manila, naa koy mabatian na dako na pagmahay sa ako gikan sa yuta na akong gitawhan. Dili ko gapanagad ani. Para dili ko makonsensyahan, mu ingon ko sa akong kaugalingon na, Ayaw ug kabalaka, mubalik pa ka. Mubalik pa ka.

Maypa mubasa nalang ta sa gisulat sa akong amiga na si Iris. Sa 2005 pa ni niya gisulat. Dili ni siya artikulo sa gira sa amoang rehiyon; ginapahayag lang niya na naay mga tingog na dili nato gakadunggan. Naay mga tao na atoang gakalimtan, kung kinsa man lang sila — mga lumad, mga Muslim, mga IDP o mga bata na onse anyos lang (diyos ko, ka edad lang sa akong pinangga na inaanak, si Mel Jane). Usahay, gapabungol bungol ta sa Mindanao.

O, muhilom na ko. Basaha gani:

Mindanao

By Iris C. Montellano

My cousin came by the house one day, wanting to speak with me. She works as an agent of a recruitment agency for overseas employment. Knowing that I am enrolled in Professional Education, she eagerly introduced her agency’s recruitment scheme.

“But I’m not going to America,” I said.

“What?!” She couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud. “You just had a boyfriend and now you don’t want to go to New York?” She looked very puzzled.

I couldn’t blame her. I was, in fact, the most New York fanatic person in this part of the country. I used to think that every single quiz I had in my undergraduate years was a small step, each slowly bringing me closer to the Big Apple. I cut out articles in the newspapers that had New York City in it, posted photos of the Statue of Liberty on my cabinet door, and religiously watched Sex and the City episodes on HBO. I was already living the New York spirit before I could even get to the place.

But that was before I discovered Mindanao.

You see, after I graduated from college in 2003, I joined a volunteer program that allowed me to work with the indigenous people of Davao City. I was a teacher in a far-flung village and lived among the IPs for an entire school year. I saw Mindanao in its most remote form, seemingly forgotten by a nation that it supposedly belongs to. I found a family of my own in the homes of people who are neglected by the rich and powerful.

Every morning we would go out in the open field and sing the Lupang Hinirang as we gazed up to the Philippine flag we hung on a bamboo pole. My students never knew it, but I cried every time they reach the end of the song: “…ang mamatay nang dahil sa ‘yo” (To die for you.). There they were singing allegiance to a country that may never even know they exist.

I was ashamed to want to be a New Yorker. It even disheartens me to know how many of our citizens leave this country in search of good fortune elsewhere. How many of us left here are willing to stay and “mamatay dahil sa ‘yo”?

I am overwhelmed with stories of government officials being true public servants in their works. I thank God for jeepney drivers who stop to drop off and pick up passengers at the designated places. I feel honored to know of a group of doctors and nurses who volunteer to go to remote areas in Mindanao to operate on indigent patients, many of whom have not even seen a doctor in their entire lives. That, to me, is allegiance.

No, I did not refuse my cousin’s good intentions because I have a boyfriend. I let go of New York when I was a volunteer and realized what it is to be truly Filipino.

Today, when people ask me how my volunteer year was? I answer, “It was great!” But deep inside me I know that “great” is not quite the word for it. For how can you encapsulate an entire year that made you laugh and cry, jump for joy and wail in anger, shout out and be silent all together? I tell them go and volunteer yourselves, so you may know what “great” means to me. So you too may know that Mindanao is not just what you read about in your History books as “the second largest island in the Philippine archipelago” or that “it is where you can find Davao City and Bukidnon Province”.

Mindanao may mean different things for different people. For those in Luzon, the place is a battlefield. People in Visayas see us as less fortunate than them. But Mindanao will always be home to me. Home. Nothing less.