TIME TRAVEL

On Sunday we went to a church two and a half hours from Davao somewhere in the mountains in the middle of “banana plantation” country.  We were surrounded by, row after row, of large banana trees, snaking our way through the banana groves on a bumpy dirt road heading to church.  Upon our arrival we were greeted by loads of smiling children and joined the Sunday School at the Motcom service that was for all ages in the one room sanctuary.  Before the morning was through Colin, Jared, and I were called up on stage to introduce ourselves and tell a little bit about who we are…(which Dolfi, the Swiss Missionary, translated to the congregation) then the INTIRE congregation of one hundred or so people came up on stage and each shook our hands!  It was pretty cool!  After an inspiring service, we walked through the village to Pastor Alberts house and ate another wonderful wood fire/home cooked meal with him and his family. 

We loaded up from there and headed deeper in country into the mountains.   I rode in the back of the truck with my camera at the ready, with our supplies, and Pastor Albert.  We slowly worked our way higher toward the Babbaron Mountain.  We passed several small rural villages and several single huts along the road.  It was like we were traveling back in time, way before money was ever invented. 

We arrived at the Talaingong Tribe in Cabadiangan, high in the mountains, where the air was damp and cool, much like the Smokey’s back home.  I hopped out of the truck and began snapping away.  I was in hog heaven, focusing on shy smiling faces that attentively followed me everywhere…It was like National Geo meets missions…I became the Pied Piper as scores of children curiously followed me as we began to carry our supplies up the hill to our communal hut…where American, Swiss, and Filipino alike would sleep the chilly night away in our sketter nets….there had to be 30 to 50 children hanging on to my every “click.”

This place felt strangling familiar to me…like the Georgia mountains I used to live in…foggy…damp…cool…quiet…enchanted…we ate some homemade Swiss raison bread Dolfi’s wife had made with 3 in 1 coffee (combined creamer, coffee, and sugar in one packet, a Filipino staple.)  at the local pastors hut…we were joined by the Headman of the tribe and some of the older elders came to were we sat…we shook their hands and they joined us in snacking…this was a good sign that we were excepted and protected by the village now…(that was a relief)…the smoke from the hand made cooking fire was rolling out of the house we sat near…it was dusk…the drizzle began to slow…dinner was served inside from where the smoke came from…we sat and listened to Dolfi entertain the nationals in their native tongue…and watched them chuckle at this ingenious missionary’s humor…it was dark now…we ate rice with dried salt fish by the light of a tin can that was filled with oil, crimped at the corner of the top rim with a wick pinched in the crimp…the light was low but the mood was high…the light danced but didn’t illuminate beyond our immediate space, on our faces and the plank table before us…the can lamps light cast eerie shadows across the dimly lit room…it shown just enough to make out the children curiously peaking into the doorway from outside, wondering what the Americanos looked like…soon after dinner we found out by surprise that we were honored guest of the tribe and sat on a stage in front of the whole village before the film showing was supposed to start…we were each asked to give a brief testimony while Dolfi translated…then the whole village began worshipping through song, loudly, in the most beautiful way…EVERYONE, from child to adult sang their hearts out…it was absolutely touching to  hear something so pure and pleasing…I remember thinking to myself, to never forget this moment and this feeling of absolute wonderment of these people and their lack of EVERYTHING…yet they lacked nothing at all…they sang to heaven and it was good…truly beautiful! 

The next morning we were treated to more rice and dried salt fish with some mango.   After breakfast is when the real treat began….the elder people of the tribe wore their tribal dress and danced and played indigenous musical instruments…which included beating large sticks on a large hollow log.  Jared and Colin were “asked” to join them in their dancing…It was a wonderment to be in that place with those people…the rains began again…we said our good byes…the pastor motioned for me to take a picture or him…I showed him the picture on the back of the camera…he pulled me close and in broken English said, “Don’t forget me.”…Which I replied, “How could I?”  I thanked him for his hospitality waved, good bye to the tribe, the children, and regrettably we moved away from my new friends on up the mountain passes, another three hours, to Valencia City, where we spent the night with some other brothers and sisters in Christ. 

This morning we dedicated the equipment to God and for God’s work and passed it over to two different reps from two different tribes.  They are pushing further into Muslim country…these men blindly go deeper into dangerous situations…but their attitude is like Charlie’s, my new friend from the beginning of the week,  when we parted he said, “See you in Heaven.” And then he was gone.

I’m exhausted I have to wake up in 4 hours to catch a flight to Manila and then on to Bagio.

KEEP THE PRAYERS COMING!!!!!  THE TRAINING IS NEXT!!!!!

Love you ALL!!!

In His Grip,

Deric