Benjamin Abadiano: Tribal heart

Benjamin Abadiano is the first Filipino to be named one of Asia’s emergent leaders by the Ramon Magsaysay Foundation. Photo by: Benjamin Abadiano

Benjamin Abadiano learned contentment sleeping on a fishing boat as a young boy. His grandfather would bring him to the beach to fish on Sunday afternoons. But the youngster always fell asleep with his fishing line in the water.

His grandfather would wake him up before dusk fell and tell him, “Pull your line, you might have caught something already.” And indeed, many times he would have a big fish biting his bait.

Abadiano would proudly present his catch to his grandmother when they arrived home: “We’ll have something to cook!” For the first 13 years of his life, he lived with pious, well-off grandparents who doted on him, yet strived to keep him grounded and self-sufficient.

Years later, his grandfather would reveal that the young boy was never actually that lucky to have caught anything while dozing off. His grandfather actually put the fish on his line.

“I don’t want you to grow up,” his grandfather told him. “As early as now I want you to have a feeling of fulfillment so you will grow up content in life.”

The effect of that lesson on Abadiano was tremendous. It became the foundation of a life of selflessness and service that earned him the Ramon Magsaysay Award, Asia’s version of the Nobel Peace Prize, in 2004. He was the first Filipino to receive the award for emergent leadership, a recognition given to an individual 40 years old or younger “for outstanding work on issues of social change in his or her community, but whose leadership may not yet be broadly recognized outside of this community.”

Abadiano discovered his vocation in the highlands across the Philippines with the country’s indigenous peoples. His first encounter was during his sophomore year in college with the Manobo tribe in Bukidnon, a province in the southern region of Mindanao.

During his 19-day stay with the community, he was struck by the simplicity of people’s lives. House floors were made of pieces of wood tied together.

“There’s nothing there but a casserole where they cook their food and a machete,” Abadiano remembered.

In spite of the obvious material poverty, Abadiano said the Manobo were readily generous.

“That really touched me, that despite of their poverty they can afford to share what they have with others,” he said.

Upon returning home to the city, Abadiano decided to live a life without trappings, to “give up the material things that I value most” and keep only a few clothes and a pair of slippers.

The experience deepened his spiritual life as well. Abadiano said he discovered a different dimension of spirituality with the Manobo, something he did not even see during his stay in the seminary throughout his college years.

“These are the kind of people who are teaching values in the real sense. They are actually practicing Christian values, not just talking about them,” Abadiano said.

He was 21 years old when he decided to “offer” his life to the indigenous peoples of the Philippines.

Abadiano visited various tribes all over the country during a monthlong spiritual journey. His final stop, with the Mangyan community in the province of Oriental Mindoro, lasted much longer than he expected or planned - nine years, to be exact, beginning when he was 25 years old.

Missionary sisters working with the Mangyan community suggested that he address basic needs, so he begun an education program focusing on literacy, livelihood skills and, most importantly, one rooted in Mangyan values and tradition.

This evolved into the Tugdaan Center for Human and Environmental Development. Now Tugdaan is a thriving learning and cultural resource center where more than half of the teachers are Mangyan. The task appeared overwhelming at the onset, but Abadiano soon realized it was rather simple.

“I just listened to their dreams and aspirations,” he said. “That became my guide on what steps to take.”

In his line of work, Abadiano stressed the importance of genuine empathy. Indigenous peoples may be materially impoverished but they are culturally rich - and proud. Careful not to step on their toes, Abadiano made sure he did not impose his “agenda” on them.

“Success should be the concern of the people I work with, not mine because it’s their vision I’m working for,” he said.

Abadiano left the Mangyan community to pursue another dream - priesthood. The Jesuits, who years before did not accept him into the order, were wooing him back.

“I thought that was it,” he remembered.

But he felt stifled, even bored, inside the institution.

“It’s a wonderful vocation. Not all are for it and I don’t think I am for it,” he said. “When I’m outside I’m more alive and I can practice my spirituality in a deeper way.”

Abadiano hungered for the experiential aspect of spirituality, so even without any firm prospects he left.

“I was looking for an opportunity where I can serve, not so much to be employed,” he said.

The Assisi Development Foundation tapped Abadiano in 2001 to lead its peace-building efforts in southern Philippines through the program Tabang Mindanaw. During this time, he connected with the Lumad, another indigenous tribe of Mindanao, and founded the Ilawan Center for Peace and Sustainable Development to provide culture-based education, similar to what Tugdaan gave to the Mangyan. Ilawan means “center of light” in Filipino.

In recognition of his extraordinary commitment to the country’s marginalized, Abadiano was invited to become president of Assisi five years after he joined the foundation.

Abadiano said his personal advocacy will always remain with the indigenous peoples of the Philippines. He is creating a legacy of culturally sensitive education for them through a network of community schools across the archipelago. This includes Pamulaan College, the first tertiary-level institution for the youth of indigenous communities that offers full-degree courses and short-time training courses.

Abadiano’s eyes twinkle and his lips curve into a smile whenever he looks back to his formative years with his grandparents.

“I owe them who I am today,” he said. “They prepared me for my future.”

This is why he pays it forward.