Malaybalay

I'm writing from an internet cafe in Malaybalay, Bukidnon, Mindanao, Philippines. Mindanao is proving even more amazing than we had anticipated, as we encounter indigenous peoples untouched by Spanish or American influence. Yesterday, after a 4 kilometer hike past stunning landscapes of enormous mountains and verdant valleys, we arrived at the Matigsalog tribe, who live as they always have: wearing traditional clothing, and without TV, phones, computers, cars, running water, or electricity. The children who heard our Haydn, Ives, and Schubert were mesmerized, and their presentations of ancient rituals were equally captivating for us.

They bid us farewell with a formal gesture we had never seen before, and which was so touching a few of us had to hold back tears. We extended one hand to the children as they filed past us, thinking they wanted to shake hands, but instead, they placed their hands on either side of the hand extended to them and then, in one gesture, slipped their hands away and crossed them over their heart. Some of the older kids then pressed the extended hand to their forehead, but the little ones just hugged our legs.

Something about this gesture, which seemed to take the essence from our hands and carry it straight to their hearts, made an impression we shall never forget.