Alungay bissala, alanyap na bangsa.
Lost language, banished people.
Voiceless, invisible.
In a world where one is rendered invisible, little people do wage their own invisible wars. Yet unlike the ‘sikat’ and ‘bigatin’ combatants, freedom-fighters, valiant soldiers and men in uniform that have been alternating as vidas and contravidas in the theatre of Mindanao conflict (depending on which side of the political fence you are in), to marginalized communities such as indigenous people like the Sama Dilaut or Bajaus, there are no guns and rifles to rattle and raise up in rage; no jungles to hide their kidnapped victims; no hinterland look-outs nor underground bunkers to reclaim if their slightest of demands are not heeded. To them, the terrain seems more difficult and waging the battles is even made much harder especially when the ‘enemies’ do not even recognize, let alone acknowledge their existence.