Extraordinary People: Raymond De Peralta

In Love, A Dream is Born

by Raymond De Peralta

How often do you hear gun fights while teaching? How frequent do military tanks pass by your school or even your house? How many times do you have to leave your homes to move to a safer place? Many of us may never experience these in our lifetime, but sadly, it is a reality for people in Maguindanao.

It was four years ago when I first went to Maguindanao. I was only twenty-four then. It was a time in my life that I felt lost, unsure and frustrated. I was looking for fun and adventure. At the same time, I knew I wanted to teach, but I didn't know where to start. I wanted to serve people in need, but I didn’t know where to go. I was looking for my purpose. I was in a crossroads in my life. I needed answers. So when I learned about a volunteer program that sends professionals to teach in Maguindanao for one school year, I applied immediately.

Before joining the program, I only heard of Maguindanao from the news. Sadly, the reports only showed the hostilities in the province. That time, the news about the massacre of 44 Special Action Force members was still fresh. A few years before, there was also the infamous Ampatuan massacre wherein 58 people were killed. This scared me, but made me excited at the same time. I considered myself lucky because I was given an opportunity to be in a place where not a lot would dare to go.

The first few weeks were pure bliss. I was doing what I wanted - teaching. I handled grade 5 and grade 6 classes and taught Mathematics, English and Science. Waking up early had been a real struggle for me but when I was there, it was effortless. Everyday, I was eager to go to class. What made it more exciting was playing and hanging out with the kids. Some afternoons, we went to the river to swim. We even played tag, as the water barely reached our knees. Other times, we went to the farm. My students climbed the trees to get fruits. Our favorite then was star apple which the kids called "strapol". Those times were incomparable.

As I spent a lot of time with my students, I got to know them more deeply. They invited me to their houses and I met their families. I learned that most of the students in our school were bakwit, or people who were displaced because of the armed conflict in the province. They came from nearby towns, and stayed in small huts provided by the government as their temporary shelter. The huts were arranged in rows in a piece of land near the school.

Before going to Maguindanao, I never really paid much attention to their hardships. I knew that there was conflict, but as long as I was not affected, I didn't care. However, my stay in Maguindanao changed my perspective. I had a peek into their lives and saw how the armed conflicts caused a great deal of suffering to the people. The children were the ones affected the most. They were the main victims of the war.

I had two students who were siblings. Muhaimin was 16 then while Morsad was 14. After the war in their hometown, their parents went back because they had to work at the farm. The two brothers had to live by themselves. There was a time when both of them were absent in class. When they got back, they told me that Morsad was sick so Muhaimin had to take care of his brother.

I had another student, Jabar, who skipped class often. When I asked him, he told me that his parents became handicapped when a bomb exploded and shrapnel hit them. As the eldest, he had to work as a pedicab driver for the family. I once asked him what he wanted to do when he got older. Without hesitation, he said that he wanted to join the rebels and fight the soldiers. He blamed them for what happened to his parents. At such a young age, he already had that narrative.

Many of my students had a hard time in class. These students were teenagers, with some of them already in their late teens. They were supposed to be graduating from high school already. Yet there they were, still in primary school. Many of them couldn't even solve basic arithmetic problems. More than half couldn't read.

Two months after my deployment in Datu Piang, I had a frightening experience. It was around 8 o'clock in the evening. My foster family and I just had dinner when we heard a loud bang. Then we heard another. And another. I thought there were fireworks until somebody said there was a gunfight. I froze. It was the first gunshot I heard in my whole life, more so a gunfight. The youngest kid in the house, Norhan, who was only three years old then, came to me and sat on my lap. He looked at me, fighting back the tears. He told me he was scared. I was brokenhearted.

The gunfight only lasted for thirty minutes, but it left me awake the whole night. While my roommates were already sleeping, I was there on my bed shaking. There were many thoughts running through my head. Was it still safe to stay? Why was it only me and Norhan who got scared? Why did the children have to go through these?

After a few months, there was another encounter between the rebels and the soldiers. This time, it lasted for weeks. From morning until night, we heard the sounds of gunshots and of bombs blowing up. At night, helicopters circled overhead. One time, while I was in class, we heard gunshots. I stopped our discussion and asked my students why they didn't seem to be bothered. One student told me that for them, it was normal. The more they paid attention to it, the more they would get scared.

As I had these experiences, I got more and more frustrated. I wondered why it seemed like we have forgotten them. They are also Filipinos, but why do they not get as much attention? I felt guilty. I wanted to save them. I wanted to help everyone. However, I could only do so much. I only had less than a year to stay in the community as a volunteer, and I had limited resources. I felt defeated. I was ready to give up.

But it was then that I understood why I was there. I had a complete turnaround. I used to think that nothing significant will happen to my life. I was only focused with myself and how I could be happy. My reason for going to Maguindanao and volunteering was not totally selfless. I also wanted to go there so I could experience the thrill of being in the middle of a war. But the place changed me. My experience taught me to love unconditionally. I learned to become selfless.

At a time in my life when I was lost, I found myself in Maguindanao. Despite everything that happened, I felt happiest when I was there. It helped me achieve my dreams for myself. Now, it is my turn to give back.

In Maguindanao, a dream was born. A dream that one day, the children will no longer be terrified. The people will no longer need to flee their homes because of the war. Every child will have a normal childhood. One day, there will be peace in the province.

I finally found my purpose – to work hard until the dream is fulfilled.

Four years after, I am still holding on to that dream. I am now back in Maguindanao, ready to fulfill my purpose.

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