Busaw

I WATCHED THE bodies of my friends jerk sidewards as the jeepney we rode on started to gain momentum. It was still 4:45 A.M. I gazed at the sight of the sleepy people inside the vehicle, whining inside my head why the trip had to be this early. The cold winds of the early morning brushed our faces as we rode on the roads of Mintal.

We were freshmen college students and our class was headed to Sitio Kahusayan, one of the places where the Lumad people lived, for one of our field trips for Professor Lu's subject. Beside the driver on the front seat sat our Professor, and I stared at her as the engine of the jeepney roared on. She was a tiny woman, already on her old age. Professor Lu had told us that she was already alive during the Martial Law period. She said she was one of the people who went to the mountains and fought the government. I pondered on the thought for a moment. Fighting for something, huh. I shifted my gaze at the window of the jeepney.

The jeepney ride lasted for three hours. Most of my blockmates slept through the whole ride while I stayed wide awake. I was a sucker for nice scenery, and my heart filled up when I caught a glimpse of the sunrise through the fields of pineapples we passed through. 

I wasn't really that excited for this trip. We weren't going to a nice place with a resort. We weren't going to a zoo, or a theme park where we could marvel at the sight of animals being caged on bars. There were no ziplines, and certainly no exciting and thrilling food. We were just going to the mountains, out of civilization, to visit a group of indigenous people and learn about their life. I was quiet as I gazed at the fields we passed before us. Well, at least the scenery was nice.

By the time we arrived near the site, the sun was already up. We passed by some kids on our way, and they looked at me while I ate my supposed breakfast--a burger from Jollibee. They were small kids with brown complexions. They looked at you as if you came from the outer space, an alien object standing in front of them. I stared back at them, half wondering if I should share my burger with them, but they continued to walk on, and I was left there.

I ran my eyes around the place when we entered the village. Along with a deep breath, I took in the place. The ground was not cemented. A basketball court laid on the middle of the small village. There were lots of plants, flowers, and trees, too. As the village was also on a mountain, the humidity was cold.

The women wore long skirts, and some of the children were barefooted. Soon, the staff called us and let us gather at the only school their village had. There were only two rooms. One of the walls of the rooms was painted with the words, "Yutang Kabilin, Panalipdan, Depensahan." The colorful painting and the childish manner of the painting contrasted the message of the line and all that encompassed it. 

We entered the room at the right, and the whole class sat on the floor. All was quiet except for the Datu speaking at the front.

"Ako diay si Datu Danny Diarog," (I'm Datu Diarog.) I heard him speak.

After introducing himself to us, he continued to talk at the front. I wasn't really paying that much attention and I averted my gaze away from him when I felt a nudge on my shoulder. One of my friends poked me on my arm and told me that they were going to get out of the classroom and explore the place instead. The Datu hasn't even finished speaking yet. We weren't allowed to wander off into our own without asking permission from the staff, but since my friends knew that they weren't going to be allowed to wander off if they asked for permission, I watched as my friends snuck out quietly. I looked at the Datu for a moment. He was saying something about a massacre.