Life gets better for Mangyan village

MANILA, Philippines - It’s a scene from antiquity: children run naked on the riverbanks, mothers weave baskets, native huts decorate the mountainside.

And then, in the thick of it all, hangs a sign advertising cell phone load.

This is the village of 2,000 or more Iraya Mangyans, one of the Philippines’ native people, in Talipanan Beach in Puerto Galera, Mindoro Oriental.

The tribe has been living in the area for countless years but members recently edged their way down the mountain.

Support services set up for the Mangyans, including a clinic, an elementary school and a high school, are enticing more people to the lowlands.

“Before, when we came there were only three or four houses you could see. Now it’s all over,” Sister Elsy Ittira says, referring to the by-now dozens of huts that have crept down to the riverbank.

Techno-lit

Sister Elsy, an Indian nun, was asked by the Ayala Foundation to aid the ailing community ten years ago and she has seen many changes in a decade.

With increased interaction with the outside world, a thirst for technology has developed as a natural side effect.

Cell phones began appearing about three years ago and now about one quarter of the population own one, in particular the younger Mangyans. 

About half the approximately 300 houses have electricity, and those that do have televisions and DVD players crammed in the basic one-room huts, where families sleep on the ground.

Four Mangyans have tricycles, seven have motorcycles and about 20 have bicycles.

These lucky few make their living transporting people around the island.

Some men tend to rice paddies and fruit and vegetable plantations in the mountains while others are laborers.

The women eke out a living doing what they have done for centuries. The basket-weaving of the Mangyans is legendary and their wares are a quintessential Puerto Galera souvenir.

Average wage can be as low as P150 a day.

Generous to a fault

Even with so little, it is the Mangyan nature to give generously and they prize hospitality very highly, Sister Elsy says.

“Whatever they have, they share.”

It is this generosity which is, at least in part, responsible for their current impoverishment.

Decades ago, many Mangyans lost their land when they swapped it with Tagalog folk for basic items like canned fish.

“They (were) very ignorant, they did not know (it was a bad bargain).”

Sister Elsy says dealings such as these have made them a frightened and suspicious people, too timid to speak out.

Even today, a water pump which pipes clean water from the mountains down to the village is often used by outsiders.

“The Tagalog, they come in and take it, it’s always like that.”

The diffident Mangyans do not say anything at scenes like this, she says. That is why it is so important to give the Mangyans the chance to one day enfranchise themselves.

“They don’t have a voice. We have to voice for the voiceless.”

And Sister Elsy takes that advocacy role very seriously. The main responsibility of the trained nurse is to run the clinic situated just outside the village which operates between 8 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. and 4 p.m. and 6 p.m., Monday through Saturday. 

The multi-purpose clinic sees more than 30 patients a week, administering medicine and conducting diagnoses and check-ups.

The population has trebled since the clinic opened in 2004, exploding from about 700 to 2,000.

“So we need more medicine, we need more food, we need everything more,” Sister Elsy says.

Culture versus health

Health here is poor, on account of bad hygiene and poor nutrition.

The children at the elementary school situated in the middle of the community, opened by the Ayala Foundation, get a free lunch - often their one square meal of the day.

Hygiene standards are improving, but diseases are still communicated through urine as a result of poor sanitation.

“When we came before (the children smelled) so bad, I could not even approach them, so foul-smelling,” Sister Elsy says.

Some cultural elements mean the Mangyans can jeopardize their own survival. In 2004, a measles outbreak hit the community but those afflicted would not leave their huts to seek medical attention.

“They have a superstitious belief, they will not come down, they always remain in the house (if they are sick),” Sister Elsy says.

This superstitious belief extends further - the Mangyans even move houses when someone dies in the current one. 

The culture impacts on their health in further ways, as they are so timid they find it difficult to speak to outsiders, even doctors.

“They will not open their mouth, they will not tell them what happened, but when the sister will go, they will tell everything.”

A doctor comes in from Puerto Galera once a week, but Sister Elsy often deals with cases of tuberculosis so bad the patient collapses on arrival.

“Before we came in many people were dying, but after the sisters came here, the mortality rates (dropped),” she says.

Tuberculosis, dengue fever, dysentery, bronchitis, pneumonia, conjunctivitis, cholera and measles are all commonplace here.

Hard graft

But the noble work is hard graft. Sister Elsy puts her own health at risk, and has contracted illnesses several times.

“To be with the people is not easy, it’s very hard,” she says.

There is much work that needs to be done, but they are losing foreign volunteers who have safety concerns. A group of dedicated Korean Christians stopped their annual trips to help the tribe, when the manager of the hotel they were staying in was shot last year.

“We lost a very big help. They are all going to another country (now).

“I don’t know how many people would be alive if (aid workers do) not help them. The deaths would be plenty,” she says further. 

Then there are other frustrations, like trying to break cultural norms for the sake of good health practice.

There is one man with pulmonary TB who continues impregnating his wife, though he is passing on the disease to his offspring.

“I tell him not to have the children but still he goes on producing. Seven or eight children, imagine,” Sister Elsy says.

But the success stories are also undeniable. Ten-year-old bone TB sufferer Lenlin Pampilo has been living at the clinic for the past six years and was just 12 kilograms when she arrived. She contracted the TB from her mother, who died when she was just 6 months, and her father has advanced pulmonary TB.

She now weighs 40 kilograms and can walk again, thanks to continued treatment. Her older sister has just entered high school and has a bright future.

“She’s really clever, she got first honor in the class last year,” Sister Elsy beams.

The family has been fortunate to have special attention from the Ayala Foundation, including being brought to Manila for treatment.

“It’s because of that that is why they are alive. Otherwise, they would have died a long time ago,” Sister Elsy says.