By Frater Felmar Castrodes Fiel SVD

The author is studying for the priesthood as a member of the Society of the Divine Word (SVD) where seminarians in vows are known as ‘Frater’, the Latin for ‘Brother’.

I once lived in a Catholic compound surrounded by Muslims.  I was still in Grade Two when my parents decided that I should live with my grandparents to continue my studies. This was hard for me since it meant new acquaintances, new surroundings and a new school.

Divided world

My grandparents lived in a bank house [editor’s note: this is a compound provided by the lumber company for its employees, where they work and also live with their families] and all our neighbors inside the compound were Catholics. Interestingly, I could see other people as I peeped through the wooden wall. Every now and then, one or two would come near the well inside our compound and catch a Catholic’s attention. There was a store catering to their needs for ice-water, ice-candy and buco juice. These people would ask the Catholics’ favor to buy them one or two of these products. That was the only relationship between our people and those on the other side.

My friends told me not to go near these people because they were Muslims. They said that Muslims were cruel and bad, aside from being traitors. I could not understand why they made such a judgment until, one time, when a group of Catholic children happened to play on the shoreline, the Muslim children at the other side of the compound saw us and they began to stone us! We panicked and also retaliated. We also stoned them. I remembered vividly a big stone hitting my foot. It was painful. I went home with hatred in my heart.

Much more in school

I had many Muslim classmates. How they liked to get things from my trolley! They even stole my snacks! I saw them!

That time all I understood of why we Catholics lived in a wooden-walled compound separated from the Muslims was the fact that we could not live peacefully together. Muslims hated Catholics and we Catholics hated them. Even the long shoreline in our place was divided – there was a ‘Catholic’ shoreline and a ‘Muslim’ shoreline with dividing walls between them. No Catholic would step on the ‘Muslim’ shoreline nor would they step on ours. We did not fish on their territory as they also did not fish in ours.

When world views collapsed

I was not able to finish my schooling in that place. My mother took me back and I became a transferee in the school where I had done Grade One. Luckily for me, there were no Muslims in my hometown. I grew up and eventually entered the seminary to become a religious missionary. Our congregation has been advocating inter-religious dialogue and I was a bit skeptical with our thrust since the Muslims I grew up with were quarrelsome. All I believed was that all Muslims should be under suspicion since they were cruel and bad, aside from being traitors.

Until I met John

He was a college student in Davao and he became one of my friends during summer classes. We bonded very well, shared notes and talked about everything under the sun – well, almost. I thought I knew him very well since he appeared to me to be very kind and friendly.

Then the big day came. While we were having our regular stroll-in-the-mall-after-classes, I invited him in a restaurant. This time I ordered chicharong baboy.

‘Alam mo, hindi ako kumakain ng baboy (You know, I don’t eat pork)’, he said politely.

I cracked a joke, ‘Why? Are you Muslim?’ I asked him.

‘Yes.’ He answered.

‘Huh?’ I was very surprised.

Finally, a bridge

That very moment, all my biases against Muslims collapsed. Lo and behold, before me was a Muslim, and I did not have even a slightest hint that he was among the people I hated, if not cursed. He was kind, friendly and charitable – characteristics I saw only in my more-preferred Christian friends. He turned my biases upside down!

‘How come you have a Christian name – John?’ I curiously asked.

‘My real name is Janal. My nickname is John’. He smiled with a little laugh.

That day we started talking about our religions and it paved way for the start of a very beautiful story of friendship. John or Janal opened my eyes to the fact that not all of his people were bad. Many of them, in fact, are peace-loving and kind people. Muslims and Catholics have many things in common. We have good people and they have good people too. On both sides, we have problematic members of society and no one really has the right to make harsh judgments against another. I do not blame my friends who told me when I was young that Muslims were bad people. They were also shaped by other people’s biased worldview.

John had the same sentiment. He also didn’t have a healthy mindset towards Christians, Catholics especially. He was programmed that Catholics were cruel and bad, aside from being traitors.

With him, I learned basic respect for any person’s religion. It gave me joy to know him because he made me appreciate all the more the beauty of my own religion, as he also felt that his encounter with me made him love his religion more deeply.

A child’s prayer

I went back to that compound two years ago and the wall that divided the Catholics from the Muslims was still standing. As I conversed with my own people, I coupled it with a prayer that both sides may be more open and learn to extend a hand.  After all, we are still brothers and sisters.

You may email the author at fielsvd@yahoo.com