By: Daryl F. Famisaran
August, 2000
If you can still remember the abused Manobo girl
from Lapangon Mission and the Carabao that was chopped to death; this story is
a continuation of a skipped lull of time.
This 10 yr. old Glory, because she was abused,
although an innocent victim, is an outcast of the village. According to Manobo culture because she was
abused she is already contaminated with the sin of immorality. To the Manobos, even mere mentioning of the
genitals is taboo and immoral. Much more despicable is an abused
girl. She is pronounced unclean, a shame and a disgrace to the
community. No other than the father should be the one to chop her to
death. Only then the name and honor of the family and the village be
restored.
Would you, in your sound mind permit the
innocent victim be chopped to death? Because Glory knew of her doom when
she would tell her father, she told her missionary teacher her painful
ordeal. The missionary teacher told me of the problem and I immediately took
action. I filed a rape case against the abuser and had the girl in my
custody.
She lived with us in Mountain View College
campus. At first, she enjoyed our company, because we can talk and sing
in Manobo, especially during worship. We have also a Manobo girl with us
who is a runaway bride. Our home is the
refuge to these less fortunate ones.
She is of a different kind because she comes from a
more primitive culture. As much as we want to please her with food she
has not tasted yet, she would cry for “Kasilo”, sweet potato, her staple.
The soft bed is hot and uncomfortable for her. She prefers the hard
bamboo stick floor of our little hut in our backyard. One day we bought a
basketful of sweet potatoes. She cooked and ate nothing else but sweet potatoes.
She kept all of them for herself.
One night I found her sobbing. “What’s the
matter, my girl”, I asked.
“ I want to go home! I want to go home!” she
cried.
“NO! You know pretty well that your father will kill
you if you go home. I will be your papa here,” I comforted.
“No, I want to go home. I miss my papa, I miss
mama, my brothers, sisters and my people.”
My heart broke for her situation. “Lord”, I
prayed, “what shall I do with this girl? Please soften the heart of
her father and his people to accept her back.”
When the
student missionaries came for the month’s reporting, she cried again when she
saw her teacher. “May I go with my
teacher please!” she pleaded.
“No!” I was firm. “You pray, my girl, that
Jesus will touch your papa’s, the chief’s and your people’s hearts to accept
you back. I will only let you go home when no other than the chief and
your papa will come and fetch you.” She understood!
With a choked
voice she prayed in Manobo. “Dear God, you know that it was not at all my
fault for the terrible thing that happened to me. I was just a
victim. Please touch the heart of my
parents, our chief and my people to accept me back. I want to go
home. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
Meanwhile,
because we’re so busy we cannot hold classes for her at home, we sent her to
the nearby Upper Balangbangan Mission School with a runaway bride, so that they
can cope up with the lessons in preparation for the DECS placement test.
The
missionary teachers reported to me that she enjoys and learns fast in their
class, but she keeps on asking when could she go home. It may be that in
her personal prayers she kept on pleading to the Lord that her people
especially her papa and the chief will accept her back.
Then,
at an unexpected time, the chief came together with Glory’s papa, the chief’s
wife, her younger brother and a sister-in-law. I was surprised by this
unexpected visit. “Why chief?” I asked.
“We
came to fetch our girl, Glory,” he stammered in a choked voice. “We want
her back!” the father butted in. The ladies and the little boy were
quiet.
“I
will not let her go with you, if you will just kill her. She is safe in
my custody. Anyway you have pronounced and considered her dead. But
if you promise to me that you have forgiven her and you would accept her back
as your loved daughter, then I will give her back to you.”
“Yes,
Datu”, the chief gave me a tight and a tearful hug.
“And you?” I turned to the father,
“Yes, I promise,” he hugged me tightly.
“Where
is Glory?” they asked.
“
She’s in Balangbangan Mission School. I sent her there, so she can cope
up with her lessons in class. I’ll send for her.” It was only a
30-minute motorbike ride. In no time the bike was back with Glory.
“
Papa!” she rushed and embraced her papa. Her papa embraced her tight
sobbing. She embraced and kissed her little brother, the chief’s wife,
her sister-in-law and finally the chief. The chief lifted her to his lap
and continued to embrace and kiss her. Not a word was heard. All of
us in the house stood in tears watching that joyful reunion. I learned that day that the chief was Glory’s
grandfather. We visited the Webbs that morning and a picture was taken of
that tearful reunion. Glory was wearing her sweet smile as she held her
fathers hand and walked home that day.
Jesus
has forgiven us of our immorality of sin. We are no longer
outcasts. He is welcoming us home for that joyful reunion, in that happy
home in heaven.
Friends,
thank you so much for your support and including our student missionaries in
your prayers.
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