Once upon a time, far, far away in a little bamboo hut in a mountain jungle, a little girl named Bubit Limbos David lived with her parents, her older sister, Mumul, her little brother, Nikson and her baby sister, Jilin. Now, this story may start with “once upon a time” and end with “they lived happily ever after,” but it’s no fairytale. It’s the story of my life.

One day, our dear mother got sick. As days went by, she got sicker and sicker. The missionaries were away at the time, and nobody could help her get better, so my mother died. We dug a grave in the rocky soil and laid her to rest. We were all so very, very sad. Baby Jilin had no mother to nurse her. Then my father got sick. We went to the missionaries, but there was no medicine that could cure his sickness, so my father died, too. We children dug another grave and placed him in the cold hard ground. Now we were orphans. I missed my mother and father very much. I had loved them so, but they were gone now. How I longed to be part of a family with a real mother and father again. People tried to help us, but they could only help for awhile. They didn’t have time to be a mother or father to us.

I tried to take good care of my baby sister, but it was difficult. We went to live with relatives up where the coconut trees are, but we did not belong. We were not their children, and they treated us more like slaves.

The old men of the tribe—the gunggarangs—sit around all day making cigarettes and blowing clouds of smoke while they tell stories. They are the decision makers for the tribe, and they sometimes force young girls to marry. I was only 13 and did not want to get married. I had learned about Jesus from the missionaries, and I wanted to be true to Him. I was baptized, but that did not protect me from the wishes of the gunggarangs.

I finally decided to leave the mountains forever. I took Jilin with me, and we made the long walk out of the mountains. I wanted to forget those horrible mountains and all their sad memories. I wanted to go far away and start a new life. But in the lowlands, it wasn’t much better. I was still a penniless Palawano girl, and I couldn’t even take care of Jilin very well. Finally, I had to leave Jilin with a family I hoped I could trust. I tried not to cry as I made my way to the big city of Manila. I did not want to have to depend on others, because they had always let me down. I was determined to take care of myself. I would get an education, and then I wouldn’t need anyone else’s money, love or care.

In Manila, I dressed like a lowlander, I talked like a lowlander and I quit using my mountain name. I didn’t want anybody to know I was just a Palawano orphan girl. I pretended I’d never heard of the island of Palawan, and I tried to forget my native language. I worked long hours and ate and slept little. I was able to attend classes, but often I was so hungry and tired I couldn’t concentrate, and I did poorly.

Sometimes people would take care of me and let me live with them, but, as is the custom here, they expected me to serve them. Some people were kind, but some were evil. The men would get drunk at night, and I had little to protect me from them. Often late at night I had to make long walks down darkened streets to fetch water or buy things to satisfy the desires of my hosts. The darkness terrified me, and I prayed and prayed for God’s protection.

I had one close friend in Manila, an old missionary lady named Donna Lou. She was very kind to me, and I loved her very much, but she was old and frail. Soon she, too, got sick, and I held her hand as she died.

I then moved in with a Korean family. The father was a pastor of a big church. They had lots of money, but once again I was just a servant. They were greedy and demanding, and they kept an eye on me at all times. I was so tired and sad and lonely that I finally decided to run away. I knew that if I told them, they would not let me go, so, one dark night, I crept out of the house and made my escape, leaving all my earthly possessions behind. A friend gave me some money, and I bought a ferry ticket back to Palawan.

I wanted to see Jilin again, but she was no longer with the family I’d given her to. I heard that my sister, Mumul, and a missionary had taken her back to the mountains. I was angry and determined to go back and find her. I did not want the gunggarangs to mistreat her and force her to marry while she was still a little girl. The hike into Kamantian was rocky, dusty and slippery. I did not know what people would say when I reappeared after so many years, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to see Jilin again.

I arrived in Kamantian on a Sabbath afternoon. Everyone was surprised to see me. At first, nobody knew what to say, but the missionaries invited me to their house. We ate a meal together, and then we talked and talked. They told me the news that they were adopting Jilin. I was shocked. I was glad for her, but now the last person in my life was being taken from me—my very own little sister, the one I had done my best to help and care for. I felt very angry, but I stayed with the missionaries, and we talked and talked some more. We talked about my dream of an education. We talked about the past and the future. Slowly, they began to understand, and I began to understand.

I could see they loved Jilin very much, and they loved the Palawano people very much. Little by little, I came to realize they loved me very much, too. I had worried they were taking away my little sister, but God was answering a prayer I had prayed for ever so long—an impossible prayer. He was giving me a mother and a father of my own! I am too old now to be legally adopted, but I have become their daughter, and they have become my parents. I have a family again! No longer do I want to forget my Palawano heritage. I am a skinny little Palawano girl, but I am loved. I have a daddy and a mama, and I am going to college, not to become an attorney or a policewoman as I had hoped in the past, but to become a teacher to return to the mountains of Palawan and teach my Palawano people.

God has led me on a long and winding path, but He has never let me down. I want to help my Palawano people know and experience the love of our dear God and to be ready when He returns. Truly, when all is said and done, we will all be able to say, “and they lived happily ever after.”

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