The Children of Ambaguio

This page is dedicated specially to the wonderful Children of Ambaguio. Their lovely laughter and charming voices have left an unforgettable imprint in my heart and an unending echo of joy and sweetness in my mind. If you were to ask me what was my happiest experience in Ambaguio, it would be the laughter and joy of the children that surrounded me. They, and only they, have the majestic power and mystery as beautiful as the mountain of Ambaguio itself.

Ambaguio is one of the 15 municipalities of the Province of Nueva Vizcaya, located in the mountain province of Luzon, the northern region of Philippines. The land of Ambaguio is a beautiful region cradled by green intertwining mountains and hills with tempting creeks and rippling streams. The principal means of transportation is hiking. Only one out of the eight barangays of Ambaguio is accessible by vehicle. Likewise, electricity is only available in the Barangay of Tiblac. With a population of about 10,000, the inhabitants of the whole of Ambaguio is mostly composed of the Kalanguya tribe.

My one-month exposure with the indigenous people of the mountain province has made me realize how little we need to live a happy life. Yet happiness doesn’t mean going back to the basics, using woods to cook our meals and living in a house with cogon grass roof. Neither does it mean having many possessions (especially material things). Rather, for me personally, it means having a deep feeling of joy within my heart which is ineffable, the presence of God in those God-loving, nature’s children. 

Have you ever experienced being in the presence of people who talk a lot about God, yet hardly sense the presence of the Great One within them? While here in this rural mountain, a little girl of 5 years, sitting together with us (the adults and elders) under the night sky around a burning beer-bottle-kerosene lamp. While we were sharing stories she hardly comprehends, she speaks not a single word. Rather she seems contented just being present with us, constantly tilting the kerosene bottle to maintain the light for us. This little girl speaks nothing about God, not even a word. Yet looking at her silent presence, made me feel that there was this mighty and yet silent presence of God in her.

The children of these great mountains are usually very shy. They run away in lightning speed when we try to talk to them. They will not give their names unless they feel comfortable with you, even though I tried asking in their native language. However, they are very curious to see new faces in their villages, especially a foreigner.   Still they are afraid to make eye contact such that they would hide behind trees, in the corner of their houses and even behind their younger siblings. Of course one of them would have to be captured and used as a human-shield   for the rest. Laughter accompanies them as they try to run away from us. We tried with great length to dialogue, speaking in their native language (Kalangoya) and cornering them at times successfully, at other times not so. It usually took them a while to master courage from their friends’ presence to respond to our persistent questioning. Rarely would they give you their own names, instead they would utter out their friends’ names. In this way, we managed to get all their names, thus slowly we became their “barkada” (close friend) too. From that moment onwards, they would visit us often (once a while still hiding behind “corners”). During our visits to the many different villages they would accompany us, guiding and leading us like expert tourist guides. Their delightful company brought us much joy in our journey.      

One of the children’s beautiful characteristics is their silent, uncomplaining attitude towards the numerous chores their parents assign them to do. It made me more aware of my always-complaining attitude. These children were doing their chores without their parents’ or adults’ supervision, as they were mostly out working in their fields or purchasing groceries in a distance lowland market place. At the age of 7 – 8 years, they are already given the task of baby-sitting their younger siblings. With a piece of cloth tied across their shoulder and back, they would carry them wherever they go. (I wonder whether this would be a form of child labor?) Other household chores like fetching water from a nearby piped-source to their kitchen are being carried out by them daily.

In the house where we were staying, a grade-3 girl (barely the height of the waist-level washbasin) would only take her meals after we had finished eating. If we were still present, she would not take her meals, no matter how late it was. Even though we persuaded her numerous times to join us. With a smile on her face, she would disappear out of the house. (It is in their culture for the guests to take their meals before the host and family do) With no other choice, we would try to consume our food as quickly as possible and “remove” ourselves from the dining area. Later, we would steal a glance around the corner and see her eating silently.

One observation that had struck me was that these children wore the same set of clothing for days, especially for those below schooling-age. They played and rolled on the ground but still wear the same soiled T-shirts and short pants for days. Similarly with those older children, though they are more tidy and clean, they were seen also in the same outfit for days. For instance, once we were in another village for 2 days and when we arrived on the third day, they were in the same dress (with the same unmistakable dirt marks on them)!  Even on our last day, they were still in their “distinctive” outfits. However, when they go to school, they would change into their cleaner school uniforms. After school they would again “appear” in their “distinctive” clothing. Washing of their family clothing is mainly done by the children. Maybe that’s the reason why they don’t change their clothing everyday.

When night falls, like the gentle clouds that dwell and cover the valleys, the singing of the children fills the village with melodious harmony. They sing songs of praise to God in their native tongue as well as in English and Tagalog without any notes. They sing and twist their bodies to the strumming of the guitar. The adults and elders emulate them. They come together, enjoying each other’s company and friendship by singing rather than by drinking.

The years of my formation prepare and cultivate me to be an effective and efficient missionary but yet if I can’t grasp the presence of God within others, and within myself, then I am but nothing. For my journey begins with the longing to seek the silent presence of God and not with success or reward. And it is you, the children of Ambaguio; you have made me realize that He is always within us.  I have felt God’s presence among you: in the way you would care and watch over your younger siblings; in your acceptance of others without prejudice but with trust and sincerity; in your silent obedience in performing the numerous household chores willingly and your seemingly unquenchable joy radiating from your faces you have constantly brought me hope for every new day.

- Anthony Lee, cicm