I watch from between slats in the wall of our house, shamelessly spying, yet I stare, breathless, and can't turn away. I sear this image into my brain-this moment, so special and beautiful. And so entirely ordinary. -Journal, August 21, 1972 This is a book of stories. This is a book of history. This is a book of tradition, drama and mystery. The U.S. Peace Corps provided Dina an avenue out of the only world she had known, and took her into the mountainous regions of the island of Mindanao in the southern Philippine ...
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I watch from between slats in the wall of our house, shamelessly spying, yet I stare, breathless, and can't turn away. I sear this image into my brain-this moment, so special and beautiful. And so entirely ordinary. -Journal, August 21, 1972 This is a book of stories. This is a book of history. This is a book of tradition, drama and mystery. The U.S. Peace Corps provided Dina an avenue out of the only world she had known, and took her into the mountainous regions of the island of Mindanao in the southern Philippine archipelago where she lived among people whose lives were little known beyond their mountain homeland. Dina's stories are crafted from her detailed journals and letters home. The stories reflect the culture and lives of the ethnic Manobo people as well as the Philippine towns and cities of the time, including the seismic shifts in national politics and daily lives when the nation's autocratic ruler declared martial law. People here are scared. Rumors are rampant, but facts are few. Stories tangle over time, facts get twisted, and no one actually knows much. You can't be sure of anything until it happens right in front of you, and then it's too late. -Journal, October 3, 1972
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