: OVER THE EXGE wanuary 36, 2008 CREATIVE WRITING FEATURE. The sweet sound of children’s singing voices blends perfectly together, bringing me to consciousness. I rub my eyes and check my watch. 5 a.m. Singing before the sun has even kissed the mountains — how can this be? I put in my contacts, take my chalky malaria pill, and navigate my way out of my tangled and tucked mosquito net. The travel nurses were wrong. I should have spent more time worrying about snakes, spiders, cock- roaches and centipedes than yellow-fever bearing mosquitoes. I think I’ve seen three since I arrived on the mountain. I step out of my bedroom and into the common room... more of a hallway than a room, really... I greet Maricar, who is helping prepare breakfast. She’s busy chopping banana blossoms, mangos and kamoti tops. My mouth waters at the sight, Maricar is a high school student here at SCHSL, the Sulads Comprehensive High School for the Lumads. Mari- car is a Lumad — a member of one of the indigenous jungle tribes in the heart of the Mindanao Mountains, in the Philippines. Maricar’s smile warms my heart and I once again thankful that I am spending Christmas far from the snow-capped peaks of British Columbia, far from my family and loved ones. It’s a bittersweet happi- ness, but happiness none the less. Maricar’s smile also reminds me that we really aren’t that different, she and I. We both love music and laughing and Can- adian boys... Maricar is at the high school because of the Sulads. In the Manobo language, Sulads means ‘brothers’. The Sulads are college students — just like me, they have been privileged enough to pursue their under- grad degree. But unlike me, they are brave. Braver and more courageous than I could ever hope to be. Christmas in the Phillipines Story ¢ nd photos by Rebecca Blixru The Sulad students from Mountain View College have decided to dedicate one or two or more years of their: lives to a literacy and agriculture education program for the marginalized indigenous people of Mindanao Island. I am still in awe of the generosity of these students, who are not so unlike me in age. They trek one, two, four’ days into the jungle. They build themselves a hut, and construct the school-in which they will teach. They learn” the language and culture of the tribe they are living with. In return, they offer elementary-level education, as well as basic health and crop-developing knowledge. The Sulads go into these jungle villages knowing the risks; tribal warfare is the reason for many deaths each year. Military battles with the Communist rebels who hide in the area are responsible for still more, Cobras, illness and limited food are minor worries in compari- son. The Sulads go anyways. The Sulads go to teach the indigenous people that their culture is valuable, that they are capable and worthy of education, and that a peaceful life is possible, if they should decide not to participate in tribal warfare. My heart aches for the sad condition at home — if only we had dealt with our indigenous people in Canada with the same love and respect, We realized too late the value of their languages and cultures. It was only after we'd made irreversible mistakes did we realize this wasn’t the right way to educate them... I have indescribable amounts of respect for the Sulad teachers. They do go into the jungle as missionaries, because they go with the intention to share God’s love... but it is through their actions and giving people basic life skills that they share their Christianity. They understand and respect the importance of the Lumad cultures, and for that, I respect them. I put on my raincoat and walk to the work site. It has rained all the days we’ve been here so far... the holes have been dug and they sit thirsty for concrete. We’ve come to the moun- tains to help the Sulads build a classroom for their high school. Their elementary students are growing older now, and want to continue learning. As the Sulads build them a high school I realize that I am so privileged to be a part of the development. I can hear the children laughing down below the hill, They’re busy playing games far too dangerous to ever meet Canadian regulations — homemade zip-lines and archery tools. The elementary students have come for Jamboree — an annual week-long meeting of the 26 jun- gle schools established by the Sulads. Despite the rains, they’ve come here to camp, play, sing and laugh together. I came here to help build a classroom and yet along the way gained far more perspec- tive and appreciation than is possible to put down in words. What touched me, and what will continue to dominate my memories of Mindanao, are the people. They are poor and ‘live a difficult life, but they’re happy. They’re generous and loving and hard-working — I wish I had a fraction of their spirit. I breathe in deeply, taking in the clean mountain air.