RM and I hunched over our laptops that settled nicely on counter height while we sat on high chairs abreast of each other. The setting: a voguish, dimly lit coffee shop in downtown General Santos City, dubbed the Tuna Capital of the Philippines. The place’s ambience, sparse confines, 24-hour service, and unlimited free Wi-Fi were specifically considered for our agenda that night—an all-nighter boosted by caffeine and sugar.
Persistently, we stared at our laptop monitors while we clacked away on our keyboards. Occasionally, we’d look up and stretch our necks or straighten our backs and try to engage each other with small talk. The moment we both reached an impasse was when the real conversation started.
I asked him how his life is going for him. We’ve known each other for the better part of the last two years but this had been the first time that we actually spent time together.
Not okay, he responded. It hasn’t been for a while.
“I asked him how his life is going for him. We’ve known each other for the better part of the last two years but this had been the first time that we actually spent time together.”
The last few months perhaps were the most turbulent. Last time out, he was asking our Fraternity GC for leads that will help him secure entry to a hospital somewhere in Davao or within its vicinity for his then-pregnant sister-in-law. His nephew, whom he received naming rights to, was delivered safely to the world on February 21, only for the new mother to lose her life due to health complications during childbirth a couple of weeks later.
Suddenly, he turned his phone towards me to show me a conversation between him and another person and by the looks of it, the person he was chatting with wasn’t happy.
He hasn’t been on top of his task at work lately and his boss was making it known. He has to make it up.
That night, he had a lot of paperwork in front of him, from creating new documents and revising some of his deliverables. Then, the following morning, with little sleep, he was scheduled to leave for another city in the following morning while lacking proper sleep.
But just as how the sun will rise in the east in the next few hours, RM will continue to tread on.
A couple of months later, RM was leaning against the railings overlooking the central dome of one of the more prominent local malls. He was waiting to meet up with me—well past 6 PM, when he said he’d be in the city.
He was donning a scarlet hoody, jeans, bright yellow sneakers, and to top it all off, a black backpack. Even at a distance, there was no mistaking RM for someone else, at least for those who are already familiar with him: an unassuming, young male with a stocky body and even stockier legs. Upon closer look, his familiar features become more apparent: broad stubby nose, skin with a slightly dark complexion, and a couple of traits from his roots that RM has so much pride for. His curly hair is trimmed so close to his head bringing more prominence to his facial features.
“Even at a distance, there was no mistaking RM for someone else, at least for those who are already familiar with him…”
It was 7 o’clock—just the right time for dinner.
“Simple ra man akong kalipay…” I like to savor the simple things, he replied, “Chao Fan ra sa ChowKing.”
And that’s how we found ourselves sharing the same table once again, and this time, we were sitting face to face.
His parents call him “Dan-Dan’. To his cousins, he is known as “Dansoy”. For his casual friends and professional peers, however, it’s best to stick with his given name: Raydan.
RM and I attended the same university and graduated in the same year although we were enrolled in different colleges. While my entrance to the university was relatively easy, RM’s road was longer, harder, and more troublesome both speaking figuratively and literally. While I only had to pass the university entrance exam, Raydan, had to go against great odds even before entering the campus.
I once ran into him I exited my practice-teaching class for the department that he was enrolled at.
He was walking barefoot but doesn’t appear to be fazed by the matter. Considering that this was Mindanao State University we were talking about, where plenty of indigent students flock in from far and wide to overcome fate and surpass the insurmountable challenge of acquiring quality education without putting too much financial strain on those who send them there, to those who have entrusted upon them the hope of a better tomorrow and RM was only one of the hundreds of students who fit the bill although such fact was still unbeknownst to me during the encounter. The reason why he didn’t have shoes on, I do not know.
Regardless, I was honestly taken aback by the sight, and more so because he doesn’t seem to mind it. In fact, the way he bounced while he walked made him seem like a goofball oozing with positive energy–he flashed his iconic dainty smile as our eyes met and continued along as if nothing happened, as if he didn’t owe me, or anybody else, an explanation no matter how brief about his foot wear’s whereabouts. Where he got this level of positivity, I don’t know, as he apparently came from a very humble beginning to his college life.
And it all began with P500 and a single carton.
After he graduated as valedictorian in High School, he embarked on a 6-hour journey from his hometown in Jose Abad Santos, the southernmost municipality of mainland Mindanao where he was born. According to him, all of his belongings were crammed into a single cardboard box that used to be filled with Lucky Me! Instant noodles. As the eldest among five siblings, he already knew that money was hard to come by as his family also has plenty of mouths to feed at home.
So much so that he only has P500 in his pocket the moment he arrived in General Santos City.
“I got off in front of Gaisano Mall, and rode a single motorcycle to MSU,” he narrated. “The driver asked for P200 and I spent P100 on food so I was down to my last P200.”
And that was only the first day. With nowhere else to go, he had to beg the in charge of the campus dormitory to give him a place to stay. Because of his insistence and the mercy of the dorm master, he was ushered to Room 11, which, according to RM, have remained unoccupied for years prior to his arrival. (The reason behind it, we can only speculate but I asked RM if he felt anything “weird” or experienced something “supernatural” during his stay there and he only answered with a hard NO.)
“RM often had to survive with as little as P150 a week that his parents were able to scrape together and send to him via kwarta padala or money transfer.”
RM often had to survive with as little as P150 a week that his parents were able to scrape together and send to him via kwarta padala or money transfer. When I asked him if this, in any way, tainted his relationship towards his parents, his response was rather more morose than what I have expected.
“It’s not about the money, but the things I experienced when I was little,” he began to say.
“My father struggled with alcohol when we were young and whenever he was drunk, he became physically abusive. My mother suffered the most as she received the most beating. Plenty of times, my father will grab my mother’s head and smash it into what little concrete we had in our house.
“Plenty of times, too, when my mother had enough and ended up reporting my father to the police: he had a few nights where he had to sleep in the prison cell. But the thing was my mother never filed a case against him.
“Me, personally, I even experienced being shoved into a sack before being hoisted up a tree before getting a flurry of blows from my father.”
Despite everything that has happened, RM claims that his father has long since changed his ways and has started to become a better man.
His father, a half-Manobo/half-Blaan, worked as a carpenter while his mother, a full-blooded Manobo, worked multiple jobs before landing a job in the Local Government Unit as a street sweeper where she still works until now. The two met each other in Manila where they fell in love and got pregnant with RM. Eventually, they had to come home to Jose Abad Santos due to financial constraints. It was there that they found out that their ancestry shared the same roots.
“They were actually second cousins. Their respective families occupy two adjacent mountains separated only by a single river flowing in between them,” said Raydan.
“The good thing is that in our tribe, marrying someone from the same family tree is widely accepted but only if both parties are second cousins—my father and mother just happen to fall right into the threshold.”
RM revealed that his clan’s genealogy is currently in the works and that he was also the one making it. Anything that concerns his family or his tribe, he takes seriously. In fact, his identity and experiences as an Indigenous Person shape who RM is as a person and motivates most, if not all of his actions. He made it his life’s mission to ensure that the Indigenous People not only has a voice but that it could be heard as well. He was very particular about the struggle he had experienced while growing up as an Indigenous Person.
While attacks can come from anywhere and from anyone, perhaps the hardest to take in was the time when RM’s elementary teachers made him a subject of ridicule and more frequently, used him as a bad example. Words like “baho” (smelly) or “bugo” (stupid) were commonly thrown around to describe him, or even his fellow native children.
“It didn’t end there: I even remember one of my teachers saying to me directly that I am both a ‘distraction’ and a ‘destruction”.”
“I didn’t like any of it, of course, but I just used it as motivation to become who am I today which is a far cry from who I was yesterday.”
The same year after graduating college, RM immediately took the Licensure Examination for Teachers and was able to pass it in one take. He says he’s pretty thankful as it serves as the culmination of all his struggles, hard work, and accomplishments during his stay at Mindanao State University. However, RM plans to reach even greater heights by enrolling in Law School and becoming an attorney who can fight for the rights of the Indigenous People.
RM’s wits, learnings, and resolve were tested early on just as he was entering his second year in Law School–not even enough to qualify as a Law Student Practitioner.
The case involved his cousin who came to work in General Santos City as a laborer. While walking through the city streets at night, his cousin was hit by a pickup truck and was brought to a local hospital known for hosting indigent patients.
When RM learned of the situation, he was surprised to find out that the culprit didn’t even bother to leave any money to pay off the medical cost nor to compensate him for his injuries.
After talking to the policemen, he was even more surprised about the circumstances surrounding the incident. There was no record of the incident, no information about the driver’s identity nor his whereabouts, no contact number, and no blotter.
“It’s like crashing into a wall,” says RM, not only alluding to his cousin’s incident, but also encompassing his struggles towards the social divide, the flaws in the justice system, and society as a whole. Nevertheless, RM refused to give up.
“It really shows that those who have enough money get the most favors.”
He managed to get a hold of and dispute to the local Internal Audit Service the responding station’s mishandling of the case. There, he was able to showcase his learning in Law School by talking to the police about Quasi Delicts, and how, the offender must not only shoulder the medical bills but also provide compensation as well.
The matter was resolved almost immediately and the offender’s information was retrieved. They were able to reach a settlement out-of-court but even still, RM still considers it a legal victory–his first of many if fate allows.
It wasn’t the first time that RM stood up for someone else. RM has always been passionate about serving the people. As a college student, he was an active participant in campus politics, taking up various offices both as a representative or councillor and in higher offices. Perhaps his most significant position, however, was when he served as the Expanded Grant-in-aid Program for Poverty Alleviation or ESGPPPA President for two terms.
His involvement in politics eventually earned him a delegation to the Philippine Model Congress, where he and his batchmates presented a paper on the Development of the Lumad Settlement.
Despite his strong motivation and unshakeable resolve, life still got in the way and RM was forced to take a leave of absence from Law School, albeit for multiple positive reasons. For one, he was able to find employment at a Non-Government Organization which is in line with his passion for Sustainable Development Work which puts him in a better position to manifest the transformation that he’s yearning for, while giving greater flexibility than he’d receive as a lawyer—that’s according to him.
Aside from the bullying, the abuse, and the challenges that he experienced both as a child and as an adult, RM claims that he pretty much had an ordinary childhood, perhaps the same way as anybody else. He laughed, played, and made friends.
But one thing he got from childhood pretty much changed his life.
Music.
As a young boy, he was anointed by his Grandmother, a Tagabusawan, their tribe’s equivalent to the Babaylan. This means that he was the only one allowed to come close to her whenever she was reciting a chant or an incantation.
It was during this time that his inclination to music was honed and developed, especially to the Indigenous Musical Traditions. This gave him the backbone on which he can fall back when he finally leave for college. Seen as someone aloof by his classmates, RM found somewhere that he can fit right in the Kabpapagariya Ensemble, or KE–Mindanao State University-General Santos City’s guild whose musical and performing arts take direct inspiration from Indigenous Traditions as well in other forms.
“I was able to create a good relationship with my classmates,” says RM. “But the one I had with the KE was on a whole, different level.”
RM’s membership to the KE allowed him to connect with four other Indigenous Students, each coming from different tribes from different areas in Mindanao. Together, they formed a musical band which they aptly named “Lima Datu”. Together, they were able to grow and flourish in their chosen art form.
Despite his clear frustration about his lack of proper musical education, RM was able to learn through constant and persistent practice and sometimes by adaptation. With Lima Datu, RM released a song entitled “Satu Datu”, a direct translation to Blaan of Matisyahu’s One Day, which has since garnered almost 3,000 reactions, more than 300 comments, and 4,700 shares on Facebook.
With 15 songs under his name, RM’s musical exploits earned him some recognition in his hometown Jose Abad Santos. Just recently, he received an award from the Local Government Unit praising his contributions to Culture and Arts through music.
Despite his accolades as a musician, RM believes that his biggest contribution to JAS or to his native people has yet to come. He believes that his experience in sustainable development and his ability and influence when he becomes a lawyer will finally help him bring the changes that he sought for so long for his people and for the place he calls home.
First on the list is to address “Gender-Based Violence” that has long been rampant among the Indigenous People. A couple of months from now, he’ll fly off to New Zealand as one of the delegates of the Mindanao Young Leaders Program 2023. There, he will supplement his knowledge and hone the tools he needed to transform his idea into reality.
When asked what he’ll do once he feels he has done all the work that needs to be done, RM said he’ll probably settle down in Jose Abad Santos, in his little coastal abode, and plans to teach the new generation of JASenyos and JASenyas who will reach great heights just like he did before.
Kuku Notebook 