A Journey to Fagang: Lessons from the B’laan Village

By: Tyrone Grant Senires, C.Ss.R.
5th Year SATMI Theology Student

It was difficult to walk the four to five kilometers from the end of the cement road in Little Baguio in Malita to Fagang village. For nearly two hours, we cautiously traveled the steep and uneven dirt road with endurance and patience. But as we walked, the beauty of the valleys and mountains gradually became apparent, reminding us that beauty is just waiting to be discovered, even on the most challenging journeys.

Students—religious brothers and sisters—as well as some professors, staff and personnel came together for this immersion as part of a program of the St. Alphonsus Theological and Mission Institute (SATMI). We traveled together to experience life in the B’laan villages firsthand, not just observe it. It served as an invitation to be with the people, listen to their stories, and reflect on the important lessons their way of life has to teach.

The breathtaking scenery and the friendliness of the B’laan people greeted me when I first arrived in Fagang village. Everyone was excited to welcome us, and their hospitality is unparalleled. “Fye kakel!” – or welcome in their language – was their greeting. In a short while, I observed a community that was deeply rooted in a love of family and unity.

I was struck by how close everyone was—not just as neighbors, but as family. Living next to each other, siblings, cousins, and other family members have their lives entwined. In the family where I stayed, I saw how they moved in and out of each other’s homes with ease and without hesitation to offer assistance. In particular, when parents work in the cities to support their loved ones, this closeness extends to caring for each other’s children. It serves as a reminder that no one is ever left to bear their burdens alone and is a straightforward yet profound act of communal care.

The B’laan people are proud of their culture. They gladly taught us basic phrases in their local language, like “fye flafus” and “fye flabi” for good morning and good evening. Their food, especially the suman with coconut, and steamed cassava with salt and chili, as well as their locally brewed coffee with corn, which has a distinct, comforting flavor, delighted me. They also shared their traditional tools like the manual rotating corn mill, and the wooden mortar and pestle for removing the rice husks, though they also utilize modern machinery for these tasks. Traditional clothing, which a mother joyfully showed us the details in the blouse and ornaments, is also worn on special occasions. Their afternoons are lively with kids playing outside with traditional games like “siklot” and “tigso,” even with the presence of cell phones and Wi-Fi which are also commonly used in their villages.

Community endeavors are very much alive as well. The village’s cooperation particularly impressed me. Whether it was making baskets or improving their fish pond, every family is represented in community projects. The local Catholic Church also offers agricultural programs to help local farmers through the Synodality of Farmers Association, or SOFA. I was present when the association interviewed the coffee farmers. They were also distributing coconut seedlings to the farmers. Coffee grinders and corn mills acquired for the association can be found in the center of the village for their use. Even though there aren’t many Catholics in the village, everyone can benefit from the organization’s efforts to improve their standard of living.

Their life is also full of wisdom despite its simplicity. I saw cornfields clinging to the hillsides and coffee plants growing under the tall trees as I walked through the mountains. I learned from them that when harvesting coffee, they occasionally trim small branches rather than picking individual cherries. I’m not sure if this method is typical to other villages, but it demonstrates their familiarity with the land and their deep connection to it.

However, the story about the community’s experience with a devastating flash flood in December of last year was the one that had the biggest impact on me. Many homes and livelihoods were lost, and the loss of two lives still weighs heavily on their hearts. I listened to their sufferings. I was also shown the place that was the most affected. I saw parts of land that were washed away and the sites of homes damaged by the big flood. Giant trees, including coffee, lay on the river as remains and reminders of the tragedy.
Some of them are now afraid to go back to where their homes used to be and choose to relocate to other areas in the village far from the banks of the river. A mother shared they continue to struggle to rebuild their life and home. Despite their obvious grief, they remained strong. I witnessed both the silent strength that emerges when people come together to overcome hardship and the frailty of human suffering.

Sadly, my stay in their village eventually came to an end. On the fifth day, as we left the village, the rain kept coming down. It made the journey back even more challenging, taking as around three hours of walking in the rain and mud. However, my heart was full. The B’laan people, who are resilient and kind, have given me a priceless gift: the reminder that life is beautiful, God is kind, His creation is amazing, and we are never alone, even in the most trying times.

I am grateful to SATMI for giving me this chance to fully engage with the B’laan community. It was more than just a visit. It was an experience with the heart of a people who cherish their family, community, and homeland.