Philippine history
The Philippines has a long history of political and religious struggle. The country is comprised of 7,300 islands (many of which are very small) and inhabited by descendents of many cultures and people groups from throughout southeast Asia, China and Arabia. In fact, the current speculation about the native peoples of North and South America, is that they originated in Asia.

The Philippines was a simple society without central governing bodies when a sultan from Arabia settled on the island of Mindanao in the 15^th century and established a small, Muslim presence. He and his descendents reigned as the Sultan of Mindanao until the early 1900s. In the mid 1500’s, Spain laid claim to the islands and made it a colony. That evolved into a brutal period for the Philippine people. Spain and America declared war on each other in 1898 and in May of that year, Admiral Dewey destroyed the Spanish fleet based in the Philippines. That event stirred Filipinos to start an insurrection against their Spanish masters which led to a successful revolution.

When the Spanish-American war was ended by treaty in Paris, responsibility for the Philippines was awarded to the United States. The Philippine government was in disarray after the revolution and, right or wrong, the Americans viewed the country as incapable of governing itself and rebuilding its own infrastructure. Congress appropriated money to cede the Philippines to America and impose the American governing style and social structure in the country, making it a territory of the U.S.A.

There is much controversy and dispute about the next period in Philippine history. Philippine historians view the transfer of power from Spain to America as merely a continuation of their revolution and struggle for independence and that is likely a fair opinion. There was violent resistance to American influence in certain parts of the country and much blood was loss on both sides.

In 1934, the Philippines advanced with U.S. support toward independence, however the invasion of Japan during WWII, postponed completion of that event. In July 4, 1946, the U.S. formally recognized the independence of the Philippines.

In its recent history, the Philippines has struggled against instability in its own government and military. Ferdinand Marcos ruled the country as an iron-handed president, imposing constant martial law and limited freedoms for twenty years. Coups and political challenges have been the norm since he was toppled in 1989. Communism almost took root in the 1970s and 1980s, but the people fought back and continue to fight that movement. Abu Sayyaf is the Muslim extremist organization associated with Al Queda and responsible for most of the current unrest. The 9/11 attack on the United States was drawn up by Al Queda leaders on the island of Mindanao.

Mindanao
The island of Mindanao is at the southern tip of the Philippine island chain. It is mountainous and rich with farm land, dense forests and jungles. Many Americans, Australians and New Zealanders lost their lives here at the hands of Japanese invasion forces in the opening days of World War II.

Mindanao is now the center of political unrest in the Philippines. The small, seedling Muslim presence has grown and spread, though it is still not large. About 5% of Filipinos consider themselves Muslim in a country that is otherwise about 70% Roman Catholic. The Muslim population is demanding that the entire island of Mindanao be purged of Christian influence and become a separate, autonomous Islamic nation and they are willing to achieve their goals through violence. Of course, the communists have their own preferences for the future of Mindanao and the entire country. Bombings and fighting have claimed the lives of many on both sides, as well as foreigners.

Certain areas of Mindanao are run by Islamic extremists and a sizable rebel army hiding in the jungles. Other regions of the island are controlled by Communist guerillas. The Philippine government is battling to retake control and quell both rebellions. There are no signs of it ending soon. The rebels take their message to other parts of the Philippines to remind the entire nation of their struggle. Bombings and gun battles, which have been common on Mindanao, occasionally occur in Manila and other islands.

My friends
I met Aurea Desaville when she was teaching English at the Interpretation Training College in Suwon City, South Korea. Many Filipinos reside and work in So. Korea as teachers, nurses and factory workers. The standard of living in the Philippines is very low, and many of the industrialized countries of Asia and Europe offer better opportunities for these hard working people.

Aurea taught for 3.5 years in Korea. She returned home to Wali, Maitum, Mindanao in April, 2003. She now resides in the family home with her 6 year old daughter Jennifer, her sister Aura, her brother-in-law Rosellas, two nephews, a niece and her elderly mother.

Wali
The family themselves say that they live on the far side of the world from America and that would not be an exaggeration. From Manila, you fly for 90 minutes to General Santos City on the south coast of the island of Mindanao. The city is the second largest on the island and is named for a hero of their revolution with Spain.

From General Santos City you drive west along the coast for about 90 minutes through Sarangani Province to the village of Maitum. During the trip, you will encounter about a dozen military and police checkpoints established to limit rebel movement in the province.

I would estimate Maitum to occupy four or five square miles of jungle and forest with perhaps 2,000 people. It is divided into three smaller village districts, one of which is called Wali. The last name of Aurea’s grandfather was Wali. He originally owned all of the land from the coastal mountains to the sea in this region, which would have been several thousand acres. The village began when tribal people who came to work as his employees, built their huts on his land and became his tenants. Over the years, the farm has dwindled in size due to debts, family gambling losses and tax burdens, but the people have remained and still call their village Wali, Maitum.

Perhaps two thirds of the total population of Maitum lives in the center of the village through which a paved government road passes. The balance of the population is scattered among the jungle and rice patties. Roads in the village are wide paths large enough for small motorized vehicles. Some people own tricycle-style motorcycles which they operate as taxis. Some own motorbikes, a few have small trucks or jeeps, but most walk or ride horses or Water Buffalo.

Lifestyle of my friends
During my two weeks on Mindanao, I felt like I was in an episode of National Geographic Explorer. Life in Maitum for the average resident, is little different than it was for their ancestors. For many residents, it is virtually unchanged from how people lived 200 years ago. The pictures you will find on this site tell that story best.

The bamboo huts that serve as houses, don't last long in this wet, humid climate. About three years ago, the previous family home of Aurea and her family became unlivable and they built a new home of concrete with a corrugated metal roof. It has glass pane windows and doors. The interior is about 650 square feet, divided into four rooms: three very tiny bedrooms and a room that serves as a common living room, dining area and kitchen. Eight people normally live in the house and I was the ninth occupant during my visit. The government delivered electricity to the village about 3 years ago and a single light bulb illuminates the interior of each room of the house.

There is no TV or telephone service, but they can receive a single radio signal from the city. There is no interior plumbing. Behind the house is a small concrete pad that serves as their outhouse, washroom (for dishes, laundry and bathing), pig shelter and animal slaughtering site. Laundry is hand-washed daily and hung on lines to dry, which can take days in this humid tropical climate.

The residence property is fenced. My friends sleep with guns by their side and put barricades on the front porch at night to slow down the bad guys should they choose to attack them (which hasn’t happened yet). The family farms many acres of rice patties, coconut groves and mangos. They are among the upper class of the village. They own a little Japanese truck that they bought from Gulf Oil in a surplus sale and two motorized rice tillers. And, from what I saw, they have one of the nicest homes in that part of the jungle.

Aurea’s brother-in-law, Rosellas, manages the farm. Her sister, Aura, is the principal of a village elementary school. Their oldest son, Ryan, graduated from school and is now driving for a wealthy Chinese lady in General Santos City. Their daughter, Weicshel, is training to be a mid-wife in another city on the island. Their youngest son, RJ, is 7. He and Aurea’s daughter, Jennifer, attend village schools.

There are a number of men who work for the farm and they live an entirely different lifestyle, living in traditional bamboo huts with their wives and children.

Lifestyle of the average villager
If the average American were to be instantly transported to the front yard or interior of the Desaville family home, they would imagine themselves to be in a very impoverished setting. However, when viewed in the context of the other villagers of Maitum and Mindanao, the family home is the lap of luxury and the family considers themselves very blessed and fortunate.

The typical home of a Maitum villager is a tiny hut on stilts, framed in bamboo with a thatched (grass) roof and walls of woven bamboo strips. Windows and doors are simply large holes in the walls without glass or coverings. The hut itself is used only for sleeping (on thin mats on the floor). Cooking is done over a fire on the ground. Bathing is done either in an irrigation ditch or by ladling water over their heads from a bucket. Clothes are washed in the ditch and dried on trees. Chickens, pigs and dogs roam about with the children. The ground is bare dirt and the sky is obscured by a thick canopy of trees and vines. Therefore, most huts are fairly dark day and night. When it rains (almost daily) everything turns to mud.

Drinking water for Maitum comes from a large spring and is piped by gravity throughout the village in a plastic pipe. People tap into the pipe with smaller pipe, which delivers a trickle of water to each family. They allow the water to run all the time and collect it in a small reservoir on their concrete wash pad.

The Filipino diet is not unlike other Asian societies. Rice is cooked and served three times a day – breakfast, lunch and dinner. It is usually supplemented by a little fish, pork or chicken. Sometimes, Bananas accompany the meal. Vegetables are infrequent, even though they could easily grow many varieties. Corn and sweet potatoes are served for special occasions.

The average villager eats with his hands using a banana leaf for a plate, though my friends have plates. Fish are cooked whole over a fire without gutting or removing the heads. Pigs and chickens are slaughtered, cooked and eaten the same day, with the internal organs of both critters considered the best part. To my amazement, I witnessed the guys who slaughtered a pig for a birthday party, nibbling on its washed, but raw, intestines while they worked. The head and feet remained outside, unrefrigerated for days as they carved off and cooked portions of it for subsequent meals.

One night, feeling sorry for my unusual diet of rice, Aurea and her sister surprised me with a plate of spaghetti. They had gone into the village store and purchased noodles and catsup. I don’t know what kind of meat was in the sauce, but I was too hungry and grateful to be inquisitive. I never became ill from food or water on this trip.

On my first evening on the farm, a little man climbed a coconut tree in the front yard (in his bare feet). At the top of the tree he had a plastic jug hanging from a severed palm branch. Each day, he climbs the tree to empty the jug, which contains sap from the branch. It’s known as Coconut Wine and is apparently quite potent. At the end of the work day, the guys stand around guzzling the stuff.

Transportation
Throughout the Philippines, the Jeepney is a common sight. It is a Philippine invention originating from the American and Japanese army jeeps left on the islands after the war. The Filipinos originally attached extended decks and seats on the back ends of the jeeps for use as taxis. Now, they actually build these funny looking vehicles for that purpose and they can carry many people. On the roads and highways in the morning, you will see Jeepneys packed with perhaps 3 dozen kids on their way to school – inside, on the roof and hanging off the sides. Safety conscious American Moms would have coronaries if they saw their kids bussed to school in this fashion.

The motorized tricycle is another common sight. It’s basically a motorcycle with a sidecar that has 3-4 seats. But, that doesn’t stop them from hauling a crowd. On our way to take Jennifer to school one morning, we kept picking up people through the jungle until I counted 9 people on the rig by the time we arrived. One day, I counted 16 passengers on one, very under-powered tricycle.

Filipinos like color and lights and decoration. The Jeepneys, tricycles and other vehicles are decorated to the extent that would put any Puerto Rican to shame. The big disadvantage for Westerners, is that these conveyances are all meant for people about 5 feet tall and less than 100 pounds. I was a tight squeeze in every vehicle I rode in throughout the trip and my 12 inch shoes hanging out of tricycles was a great source of amusement to people we passed on the roads.

Other forms of transportation include horses, bicycles, a rare car or truck, and four-legged farm tractors.

Farming
The principal sources of income and the main labor activities on Mindanao are farming and fishing. The most common crops are rice, coconuts, mangos, bananas and other fruits.

Rice patties are everywhere. Many people grow at least their own rice, but most do it for a living. The average Filipino on Mindanao tills his rice patties barefoot with a one section cultivator or plow behind a Water Buffalo or Carabao (which looks like a buffalo). Other, wealthier farmers, have motorized tillers to pull their plows, but they still have to follow them barefoot.

Coconuts are harvested every four months. Skinny, barefoot little guys still climb the trees and hack the nuts off with machetes. The Coconuts are then dried by fire in small thatched roof huts before being hauled off to market.

I ate a fresh mango when I was there and discovered that it is a very unappealing fruit in it’s whole, fresh state. I much prefer Mango juice. I also enjoyed as much fresh pineapple and guava as I could eat. They also have other fruit, which I’ve tasted in other Asian countries, but never in America. One is about the size of a small plum and tastes a little like orange and a little like grape.

The land
The island is beautiful in every respect. It rains much and often, so everything is green. Palm trees of many different varieties are everywhere. Bamboo grows everywhere and is the primary building and plumbing material.

Other than the Water Buffalo and Carabao which are in abundance for farming and transportation purposes, there are deer and fish. They can hunt any animal, in any manner at anytime without any concern for hunting licenses, seasons or limits. We had venison for one meal. I didn’t see any beef cattle or milk cows, but many people have goats and Brahma cattle, which people use both for farming and transportation. I managed – with great care – to avoid any encounters with snakes.

I was several days into my visit, walking with one of my hosts near a rice patty, when he casually mentioned that we needed to watch for snakes. I asked just what kind of snakes they had and if any were dangerous. He named a few that I’d never heard of, saying that some of them were poisonous and some were not, not that it mattered to me – any snake of any size, color or shape is just as terrifying to me as another. He then said that the Yellow Cobras like the rice patties. "Cobras?" I asked? "Yes, you have heard of Cobra?" "Oh, yes," I responded and suggested that we check out the bamboo trees a little farther away from the rice patty. From then on, I watched the grass everywhere we went like I was looking for a lost penny. A Cobra would not have had to bite me to kill me; the very sight of it would have caused my heart to fail. My Maitum cemetery headstone would have read "Coward American died of fright."

We spent one day on the beach, which is only about two miles from the farm as the parrot flies. The sand is a volcanic black and the jungle comes right down to the water with towering palm trees lining the surf. It was like being in a movie about some distant paradise. The sea is bath water warm and the surf is very tame. We swam for hours in the ocean, riding the waves and watching carefully for sharks and stingrays.

There are fishing villages along the beach and a lady from the nearby village brought a large squid to our party that my hosts purchased and cooked immediately over their fire, along with their pot of rice and some fish they had already caught. They make their beach fires in the broken off trunks of palm trees.

Further down the beach was a peninsula with a high mountain that jutted out into the sea. Rosellas, Aurea’s brother-in-law, told me that the beaches around that peninsula are pristinely white. I asked if we could go over and he said "no," because the rebels hold that mountain. I was amazed that we were within walking distance of rebel territory. But, as I learned from another family member, the rebels were all around us all of the time anyway.

Police
Aurea’s family is very large. It’s quite confusing to discuss the family with her because they consider people who are very distant relatives in their bloodline to be as close as Americans consider their immediate families. It seems like everyone I met throughout the village was either an uncle or a "cousin-brother." After meeting her two hundredth "cousin-brother," I finally admitted my confusion. She explained that they call every male cousin, no matter how distant, a "cousin-brother." Aurea has two sisters, three half sisters (her father was married twice), three brothers and several half brothers.

I met the head of police for the area. He was in the Philippine Army for 20 years and fought both the communists and the Islamic rebels before retiring from the army and taking the police position about two years ago. I can’t name him. He met me on the second day and we had a great time talking. Thereafter, he came by the house about every two days in the evening to chat in the front yard.

He has 23 men working for him. His office has one vehicle (an old truck they bought with limited funds) and not enough M16s for every man. But, they all have pistols. They dress in camo and he has a bodyguard and driver everywhere he goes. Because of his record of fighting the rebels and the isolation of Maitum, he has a price on his head. So, he keeps his wife and children in General Santos City in a guarded compound. He’s basically cop, judge and jury for most crimes committed in his sector. He only hauls the most dangerous bad guys off to jail in the city.

One of Aurea’s full brothers was assassinated three years ago by the rebels while serving in the army. The police chief was still in the army at that time and related to the brother. With his superior’s permission, he tracked down the rebels who were responsible and killed sixteen of them by himself. He said that was in his wilder, more angry days. But, that was the best solution to the problem.

One night, the chief showed up along with one of his bodyguards and one other guy who was not in uniform. We all sat around talking for a couple of hours. I assumed the other guy was just another police or army guy who didn’t have a uniform or was just along to meet me. Aura fed us all. At one point, a small truck came down the road and the chief’s bodyguard stopped it in front of the house. It was loaded with lumber and men. I was afraid we were about to witness a gun battle with rebels in our front yard. They stopped the truck on suspicion of smuggling mahogany lumber out of the jungle, but it turned out that they had the required permits.

The chief sent the civilian-looking guy to move the police truck, which was blocking the road. He did so, then returned to finish eating. Later, after all three men drove away, Rosellas told me the guy without a uniform was their prisoner, caught that day for drug smuggling. Drug felonies in the Philippines are punishable by death, similar to the laws of Singapore. The chief’s personal approach is to warn someone three times before he totes them off to the firing squad. It was one of the more bizarre moments in my visit.

Update: The prisoner mentioned above, was killed in a gun fight several months later.

One reason the chief came by the house so often, was to advise us where the rebels were, where they were moving to and the roads, paths and areas to avoid. At no time did I sense any danger, even though I was cautioned that the rebels certainly knew about my visit form the village gossips even before I got there. My greatest concern in going, was drawing attention to the village, which to date has escaped the interest of the rebels. But, the police chief felt it would be safe if we were careful. And, everyone seemed genuinely happy that I was there.

Two days after I left Mindanao, a leader of Abu Sayyaf was captured in Maitum across the road from Jennifer’s school. Two weeks after I left, a major battle took place with the New People’s Army (the communists) near a town we visited. The army checkpoints apparently serve an important function.

The T’Boli tribe
Aurea and her family are members of an ancient Mindanao tribal group known as the T’Bolis. Her grandfather Wali, was a chief of that tribe until he died. He had been born and raised very primitively in the mountainous jungle near Maitum, but had become self-educated (about a 4^th grade level) and made something of himself.

The T’Boli tribe still lives in the jungle across the river from the farm, just a few kilometers away. I knew about this before I went and we were planning to visit the tribe during my visit, but the rebel situation made it too dangerous. The rebels have no interest in bothering the villagers of Maitum or the tribe across the river, but an American is top-of-list for hostage fodder. So, I never crossed the river, and on the day we went swimming, Aurea's brother-in-law stood guard with a pistol.

I was told by my hosts that the tribe lives in very primitive conditions and is never visited by white men. I was very disappointed by the situation that prevented me from going, but hope to return someday and try again.

On three occasions, an old man and lady walked to the farm from the tribal camp to meet and visit with me. They are very distant relatives of my friends, but the bloodline goes back so far, no one knows for sure just how distant. They spoke no English (most Filipinos I met speak English), so Aurea had to translate for me. She knows six different dialects, one of which is the ancient dialect spoken by her tribe. She worked among them providing medical care when she was younger.

The old man and woman are said to be at least 90 years old and are husband and wife. I have to admit, that I was so humbled by them and so much in awe of the effort they made to visit me, that I neglected to ask a hundred questions I can think of now. They walk barefoot everywhere and the soles of their feet look like leather. Their skin is so dark and withered, they look like mummies. They have no teeth and probably have not had any for 50 years or more. You will find pictures of them on this site.

They forage in the jungle for everything they eat and wear clothes that are given to them when then venture out. Otherwise, I understand that most of the tribe wears few if any clothes. They cannot read or write and can communicate only in their ancient dialect. They chew the Beetlenut, which has the effect of tobacco.

On the second visit they made to see me, they brought along their traditional musical instruments. He played a two string instrument similar to a guitar, and she played an instrument made from a section of bamboo with five wires strung tightly on the outside. They played ancient tribal songs for me and Aurea’s 86 year old mother translated the lyrics for me into English. Aurea’s mother lived among the tribe as a girl and can also play the instruments, sing the songs and perform the tribal dances. As a teenager, Aurea performed the tribal dances in festivals and competition on the island, so she can also sing and dance the ancient songs. Weicshel has also learned some of the dances.

The last time I saw the old man and woman was when we had taken the children to the river to swim. I and Aurea swam with Jennifer and RJ, while Rosellas stood guard on the bank with his pistol. The old woman walked up to us and waved, then she and the old man crossed back through the river into the jungle to return to the tribal camp.

Birthday party
When girls turn 18 in the Philippines, an old tradition similar to the old American tradition of debutantes is observed. I was originally scheduled to go to the Philippines earlier in September. Then I was told that Rosellas and Aura’s daughter, Weicshel, would be having her 18^th birthday party after I left and it was suggested I adjust my plans so I could be there for it.

Much planning and work went into the party during my first week in country. Pictures of the preparations and party are included on this site. But, I was amazed at the scope of the event for such a small village. Nearly 100 people came from across the island and the village; relatives, friends and neighbors. The party was at night in the yard. A pig was killed and roasted during the day. Decorations were elaborate. Some of the food was catered all the way from General Santos City.

From the moment I arrived at my friends’ home, I was called "Uncle." That became my name to the kids. So, I was treated as Uncle Dan, the honored guest for Weicshel’s party. I was asked to open the festivities with a toast to the parents and a prayer for the meal. There are many ceremonial traditions for the party, one of which is a waltz the girl has with her father and each of her uncles. I was asked to be the first "uncle" to dance with her. Then I had to give a little impromptu speech during another ceremony about the treasures of a girl’s life. It was all very humbling and it seemed like every time I tried to sit down and enjoy the event, the MC was calling for Dan Evans (they pronounced it Dawn Eevens) to do something else. It was a lot of fun.

Lake Sebu
On the Monday after the birthday party, I went with Rosellas, Aura, Aurea, Jennifer, RJ, plus a nephew and his wife and two children on an overnight trip to Lake Sebu. We piled into the nephew’s van (which he drives for a living) and traveled across Sarangani Province. It was a great opportunity to see other parts of the island, though there were places we went that I could not leave the van (which had mirrored film on all the windows so no one could look inside) because we crossed in and out of both Muslim-controlled and communist held territory.

The landscape in the valleys is gently rolling, surrounded by high volcanic mountain peaks. Much of the land outside of Maitum has been cleared for farming and I did see some American type farm machinery supplementing the Water Buffalo and Carabao on larger plantations.

Lake Sebu is a small lake filling the crater of a volcano (perhaps only 3,000 feet in elevation). The mountain is one of the traditional homes of the T’Boli tribe. We stayed at a "resort," which actually had beds and indoor plumbing which, after more than a week in the village, was pretty nice. It was also much cooler on the mountain. The climate in the village is intensely hot and humid.

We took a boat ride on the lake and I took many pictures. From the bank, we spotted an old tribal man paddling his dugout canoe and fishing. Aurea called out to him in their native tongue and the old man was so surprised to have a young person speaking to him in his own language, that he paddled over and spoke to her for a few minutes. She told me later that it was highly unusual for him to get that close to a white man. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my camera at that moment and lost the picture. He said he was nearly 98 years old.

On the way back to the village the next day, we stopped in a town where Weicshel is attending midwifery school. She joined us in the van and we went to a Filipino fast food place called Jollibees. It’s similar to an American fast food place and very popular all over the country. When we pulled up to the place, my mouth started watering just imagining a hamburger or french fries. Several of our party went inside and I wanted to join them, but Aurea told me that I couldn’t leave the van because we were in a Muslim town and it was too dangerous. But, they saved the day; I bought everyone lunch and they delivered me a little burger about the size of a half-dollar and six french fries. I savored every bite, even if it did taste a little odd and not up to American standards.

Economy
The dollar is very strong in the Philippines. That’s good for American tourists, but bad for Filipinos. The things from America that they count on (soap, many food products, etc.) are very costly.

One U.S. dollar was worth about 56 pesos during my visit. A 30 minute cab ride in Manila is about $3 U.S. A ride in a tricycle taxi in Maitum is about 9 cents. Gasoline sells for about $1.33 a gallon; diesel for about $1.10.

Everyone was trying to interest me in investing in either the farm or other businesses. The nephew who drove us to Lake Sebu, told me that a brand new Shell gas station and mini-store can be purchased in General Santos City for $40,000. Of course, he thought he should manage it for me. Another man thought I should buy an interest in his catfish farm. Americans and their money have been leaving the country and especially Mindanao, due to the danger. In fact, everywhere I went, people seemed genuinely shocked to see an American. Many of the people I met – family members, teachers, villagers – asked me if I was aware of how dangerous it was. Some thought I was foolish to be there, but most expressed their respect for my willingness to visit them amid their struggle.

Summary
The Philippine people are known the world over for their hospitality and friendship. They serve as domestics in more households around the world than any other race. I have had many Filipino friends in the states over the years and have come to appreciate them very much. So, it was with delight that I accepted the invitation to be a guest in the home of my Filipino friends for two weeks. They are eager for me to return, telling me often what we will do and where we will go the next time I go. And, I am eager to return someday.

The climate is difficult, but not as much for me now that I live in the desert, as it might have been two years ago or earlier when I lived in cooler California. The Philippines are fairly close to the equator, so they have little variation in their routine, hot and humid existence. It’s a tropical environment, so it is wet much of the time. It rained about half the time during my visit. You take a bath and you’re sweating at the same time.

During my visit, Jennifer was bitten once by a mosquito and the family was surprised. I was blessed with perhaps 50 bites and they were shocked. I am going on record: those jungle bugs as racist.