Sitting on Inspiration

by Justin Claravall

(A volunteer from Los Angeles, California reflects on his experience building in Wao)

I never thought I'd like pineapples so much. They were so soft, so sweet, with such exquisite juice...I could only eat these delicious fruits in Mindanao. I almost forgot about all this work I had to do for GK because of how much I enjoyed the pineapples. I never eat pineapples in the States, or even Manila. So how did I get to indulge in their sweetness in Mindanao, of all places?

My delicious bewilderment wasn't unfamiliar to me. After being in GK for four and a half months and going to many villages meeting many beneficiaries and hearing their incredible stories, I can look with some astonishment at the remote places God's brought me and the riches he gave me in these "poor" areas otherwise forgotten by the heartless.

My work with GK had me traveling to Mindanao and the Visayas for the past seventeen days. Periodically moments of clarity shook me up—riding in a dump truck on the way to the Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao amidst beautiful rolling green hills, farmed valleys and triumphant mountains under a pollution-less sky, I almost shuddered to think how far I was from my family back in Los Angeles. The distance was definitely more than physical. It was religious and cultural as well. I knew my parents wouldn't like the idea of me building an all-Muslim village in ARMM with all its real and imagined dangers, so I tried as much as possible to join a build in Bukidnon with most teams. Everything was set for Valencia, Bukidnon until the day before my flight, when I found out our Valencia team had been switched for Wao, Lanao del Sur. I rejoiced and panicked at the news. In my heart of hearts I felt that it was good to be there because of its distance, but what was I going to tell my family? I decided it was better to ask forgiveness rather than permission. So began my clandestine build in Wao.

Then I tried actively searching for inspirational stories during the five-day build. Intuitively I thought I'd find some but my natural shyness prevented me from asking everybody so many questions about their life story. Besides, hard labor exhausts the mind and the body for those not used to it. I had to wait until after the build was over to find out I had tapped a gold mine of experiences in which to find inspiration. Was I asleep? How did it get under the radar that the very team I was building with came from such colorful lives? How did I miss the fact that we were avowed Catholics building homes for poor Muslims? Did I take it for granted that a devout Muslim community would even let us play with their children?

Even though I'm not officially part of Singles for Christ, I joined the team comprising of 10 SFC members to build in Wao. Living and working with them bore fruit in friendships. One used to be a pugnacious drinker who even got stabbed, but somehow God's grace worked in him to draw him to the work with the poor in the Bayani Challenge. Every night I'd see him pray the rosary, and every morning he'd be up early to help cook breakfast. He'd be the most spirited of the workers during the build. Another builder had led a wayward life after the death of his father, but after his return to his faith, he dedicated his life to the mission, to the work of God. He volunteers daily in Smokey Mountain working with the youth. And so we all came together to build an all-Muslim GK village named Darussalam, which means "an abode of peace." The name couldn't be more appropriate.

I met one of the beneficiaries, the very friendly Allam Imam, who opened up very easily to me and my build team. He told me about his life on the farm and the dangers of getting to the city. Despite this, he kept an upbeat character and was excited for all the visitors who came to build. Finally, during the Highway of Peace in Wao, one of our fulltime workers cried when she heard the head of the kapitbahayan (GK residents), Ibrahim, pray for Christians. When I met him earlier, he surprised me when he said he wished Christians to be in GK Darussalam so that Christians and Muslims would learn to live together in peace.

This has been a hasty report of things that happened in a small pocket of a town in the vast lands of Mindanao, but like the mustard seed which is the smallest of seeds, it would only take the love of GK workers and beneficiaries to make that seed grow into a large plant where birds of many colors can make nests and find rest. The incredible things taking place in GK villages throughout the Philippines can't be adequately captured in words. All words can only be invitations to experience the peace and love overflowing from those parts of the Philippines nobody would otherwise care about. Events like the Bayani Challenge and builds around the country aren't only adventures; they're pilgrimages.

My GK pilgrimage is finding God's face in the poor so that I can see how to love God. If I'm restored spiritually, it's because I found God in Mindanao.