The Story of Maria Cruz and the Birds That Saved Her Life

Let me tell you a story about a little Filipina girl named Maria Cruz and the birds that saved her life during World War II.  Her home was directly on the route of the Bataan Death March, and she and her siblings would sneak water to American soldiers as they passed by.  During the Axis Occupation, she and her family spent months running from the Japanese soldiers, hiding out by day and traveling silently through the dense, dark Philippine jungle by night.  Maria’s job was to carry her little sleeping mat.  

One day, a patrol came dangerously close to where they were hiding in the jungle, but something fortuitous had already occurred.  When Maria and her family set up camp that day, the birds remained in their perches right above them, winged sentinels watching over them instead of scattering at the movement of folks taking shelter below.  So when the soldiers approached the spot and saw the birds fly away, they assumed that they were the first ones to the area.  

The birds saved Maria's life that day.  She had the chance to grow up.  She fell in love with a man named Faustino, worked hard, and was generous and hospitable and industrious.  She raised thirteen children and taught them to love, to work hard, and to be generous, hospitable, and industrious.  It took many, many years and much sacrifice, but she immigrated to the United States and was eventually joined by every single one of her kids.  

Life is a fascinating thing.  This woman who didn't have a birth certificate because she was born in a bamboo nipahut eventually got a passport.  This woman who carried a mat through the jungle and grew her own rice lived to fly on an airplane and FaceTime her sisters.  This woman who received very little formal education was the honored guest at her children and grandchildren's high school, college, basic training, and officer school graduations.

Most of our filipino family history can’t be documented with a paper trail.  It is shared through stories, from one generation to the next generation.  Even my grandma’s exact age was a source of debate between her and her older sisters.  Perhaps the most precious compliment I’ve ever heard is that my Grandma Maria never failed to share her rice with those in need.  Our family is what it is because she was who she was...a brave little girl who grew into a brave little woman and built a life for herself and all those she loved.  

In that sense, it would seem that the birds saved us all.

My Grandma Maria's grave.  She left this world from the Naval Hospital in Portsmouth, Virginia, with no fewer than 40 of us squeezed in tight, all because for decades she built a family and taught it to be together. She must’ve split heaven wide open with her light.  She is buried in Orani, Bataan, Philippines, right beside her beloved husband Tino.

My Grandma Maria's parents, Francisco Duran and Josefa Fabian.  Sadly, the burial place of my paternal great grandparents is unknown.  While their gravesite is lost to history, the family and legacy they built endures.

For more info on the Bataan Death March, visit the History Channel here.
To learn about Orani, Bataan, Philippines, check out the town's website here.
To learn about shoes distributed through The Maria Project annually, click here.