This past week found me in Mindanao, the southernmost island in the Philippines. I went to visit one of our IGSL alumni, Mira*, who has worked there for three years among the urban poor. Their team focuses on two groups. One group is an ethnic religious minority living in Nabana*, a shanty-town near the sea. The other group is homeless families and prostitutes in the city center. The photo below is of Mira and me drinking coffee in the mall while she was orienting me to the work in both sites. I did not take photos in either of the two communities because it would have been offensive to the people there. You will just have to use your imagination.
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Nabana is about the size of an American football field, and is home to more than three hundred families. Their simple homes are made of "sawali," or woven reeds. The team uses the name "Taytayan," which means "bridge." They have an excellent relationship with Lino*, the community leader, who has invited them to work with his people. Because I was with Mira, I was warmly welcomed. Lino's wife put her arm around my waist and walked with me through the community, telling me their stories. A few months ago, a terrible fire swept through Nabana, and all but ten homes were razed in minutes. (You can imagine that dried reeds burn swiftly!) The Taytayan team was there immediately, and helped to save their few belongings. No one was seriously injured. Lino's wife told me, "The government did not respond to our cries for help. But God had mercy on us, and the Taytayan people were with us. After several days, the government sent us rice for our relief efforts. It was old and smelly. We felt so hurt -- they think that because we are poor, we are worthless. But the Taytayan team brought us the best rice they could find. They helped us rebuild our homes. They always treat us like we are valuable." Please pray for the Taytayan team to not grow weary and lose heart as they continue to faithfully live out the love of Jesus in Nabana.
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Later that night, we went to the park to visit the homeless families. When they saw Mira and her friends, the children ran to us, laughing, with arms open wide. Lots of hugs and greetings were exchanged. The parents do their best to keep their kids in school, in spite of their situation. So the Taytayan team comes to help tutor the kids, sitting in the dirt, doing reading and math. My respect for the team grew with each passing hour.
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At around 10:00 pm, we walked a few blocks to the "red light" district. We spent time visiting with the male prostitutes. They prefer the term MIST, meaning "Men In Sex Trade." Just like the kids in the park, they men warmly welcomed the Taytayan team. "They are our friends," one of the men told me, "and they care about us." The guys were young, about 20 to 30 years old. Surprisingly, I learned they are not gay. They have wives and children. They just work the streets because they can earn a living for their families this way. Minimum wage in the Philippines is about $3.00 a day if you can find a job -- but in this line of work they earn about $10.00 per client.
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Later that night, as Mira and I headed home, I cried for the MIST guys. I can only imagine what it does to their souls to sell themselves like that. I understand why they are drawn to the Taytayan team members, who treat them as valuable.
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The Taytayan people are doing some livelihood projects and income-generating projects for all the groups mentioned above, along with Bible studies for those who express interest. They see some successes and some heartbreaks along the way. But the most important task they have is glorifying God in a broken world -- that is, giving each person they meet a clearer picture of what our God is like.
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*names changed
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