by Jasper Tumamac, as told to Fred
PORT MORESBY, Papua New Guinea (Mindanews / 29 June) — Once there was… Actually, there were many times, when kids in our village in Bislig, Surigao del Sur would gather in the late afternoon or evenings, after playing tumba lata or shatong, just to tell stories. We always began with, “Naa toy…”That was how every good story started. It meant “Once there was…,” but for us, it really meant some interesting story was about to be told and we better sit down and listen.
I grew up in the same village as Fred. Our fathers worked at PICOP, the Paper Industries Corporation of the Philippines in Surigao del Sur. It was the beating heart of our town. When PICOP shut down in the 1990s, it felt like everything stopped. People began looking for ways to survive elsewhere. Many of us from Mindanao ended up in Papua New Guinea. I was one of them.
I have been working here for years now. I am based in Wewak, where I work as a forest surveyor for a logging company. You would be surprised how many people from Mangagoy are also here. In many ways, PNG feels like Mindanao. The forests, the heat, the warmth of the people–all of it reminds me of home. Even the stories here feel familiar.
PNG has its own versions of barang, or sorcery. When someone falls ill, the first thought is not always that it is a virus or medical condition. People will say they have been bewitched or harmed through spiritual means. I have heard of families filing cases in court over these things, but they do not win because there is no evidence. Still, people believe strongly in it. The fear is real. The stories have power here, just like back home.
As for me, I try not to dwell on it. I simply pray and leave everything to God. If we let those stories get into our heads too much, we start feeling sick ourselves. I have seen my coworkers believe it sincerely. They talk about these things with such seriousness, it is like they are living inside the story.
If you asked me if I missed home. Of course I do. But sometimes, when I sit under the trees here or listen to the locals share their tales, I hear something familiar. I hear the rhythm of our childhood stories. Sometimes I hear that line again:
“Naa toy…”
And in that moment, I feel like I am home again.
*Jasper Tumamac is from Bislig, Surigao del Sur, where he grew up in the same neighborhood and went to school with Fred. He was one of the funniest and most animated students in class, always ready with a new story that made everyone laugh. He now works in Wewak, Papua New Guinea, as a forest surveyor with a logging company. Jasper continues to carry the spirit of storytelling and laughter from his hometown, finding new stories and connections even in the far corners of the Pacific.
(Fred Lubang, a listener from Surigao del Sur, gathers stories told to him in quiet corners, walks, over shared meals, and spends time in many communities. This space is not about the writer, it is about the storyteller. It is grounded in the belief that everyone has a story that deserves to be heard, and that the act of telling, listening, and recording stories with care is itself a form of reclaiming voice and dignity. Fred is a PhD candidate at the Centre for Peace and Conflict Studies, in partnership with Paññāsāstra University of Cambodia, where he is developing a decoloniality framework for humanitarian disarmament. In 2022, Fred was awarded the Sean MacBride Peace Prize in recognition of his “unwavering work and commitment toward peace, disarmament, common security, and nonviolence. He is now in Papua New Guinea for a short visit).