their stories must be told...

How nice it is to be finally back in Puerto... In the last 5 days, I have spent over 30 hours travelling to the different communities. We've flown in a 19-seater plane, sailed in a bumboat, ridden in the back of a dump truck and squeezed in a bus like sardines in a can. These roads weren't easy, and there are many who would not be willing to tread these dirt roads. I myself confess that there is some reluctance in me to repeat the journey, but so often, we sing about how we would be willing to go to the ends of the earth to reach God's people. And if we're going to go to the ends of the earth, we've got to get there somehow.

The funny thing is, just over a year ago, I'd have to be dragged onto that little plane. My fear of flying is no secret. But then when you're doing it for God, it's a funny thing, he gives you the courage to face it.

Coron is a place of poetic beauty and romanticism, where you find your imagination captive to the beauty of nature. The famous lakes, mountains, hot springs and reefs of Coron have attracted many tourists to its beautiful shores. But beneath this glorious facade lies another story, well-hidden from its visitors. As we took the boat to the community, our companions took the time to point out the island resorts on our way there. Yet on nearby shores there are communities plagued by diarrhoea and malaria. Everyday is a struggle to survive. In one community, there was a child not 2 years of age suffering from diarrhoea. Diarrhoea? So what? What a minor ailment it would seem to us. But how my tune should change on learning that the polluted water source and lack of medical supplies or facilities would not afford him more than 2 days to live. Herein lies a land screaming out for help, especially medical help, but their cries are quickly dissipated by the waves, and drowned out by the laughter of happy tourists on neighbouring shores.

This is but one sad tale in the multitude. As we carried on with our work, we found another community who had to be relocated because their island had been purchased by a foreigner to make way for 'greater developments', in this case, a casino. But relocating a community has never been easy, and promises not always fulfilled. As I look at the children playing nearby, I cannot help but sigh. Who will tell them that their future is full of uncertainty? Who will tell them that their home, land and livelihood will be lost to make way for this greedy enterprise?
There are many more stories to be told, not uncommon at all. The last leg of our journey back to Puerto is a 14-hour ferry ride – which gives me much time to reflect and dream. Despite having visited the beautiful Makinit hot spring and Kayangan lake, it is not these places which hold my thoughts. I remember the people I have met and leave behind, each with a story to tell. Maybe a story of woe, of joy, of pain, of laughter too, but each one a story of tenacity and courage.