A Day at River Tugnaw, Cabadbaran City

Name: Mary Cherry A. Rusiana

Grade & Section: 12- Sartre

On September 14, 2025, my friends and I decided to set out on a little adventure. Someone had told us about River Tugnaw in Barangay Mahaba, Cabadbaran City—known for its crystal-clear, icy waters and relaxing atmosphere. Curious and excited, we packed our things and rode from RTR to Mahaba. The trip took more than 30 minutes, but the ride itself was filled with laughter, stories, and the promise of what awaited us. The sight of tall trees, green fields, and the gentle rhythm of nature made the journey feel worthwhile even before we arrived.

When we finally reached River Tugnaw, joy immediately filled us. We hurriedly carried our bags and food from the vehicle, eager to settle down. Even though we arrived early, the place was already buzzing with visitors, all drawn by the same beauty and cool waters. We quickly looked for a spot with a nice view—perfect for photos and for simply soaking in the surroundings.

While some of my friends busied themselves preparing food, I went with one of my closest guy friends to a large boulder near the riverbank. He offered to take my photo, and in that moment, I felt so grateful. These simple joys—laughing with friends, posing for pictures, and just being together—meant a lot, especially since many of us are now in college or working. Days like this don’t come often, so we made sure to treasure every second.

The people we met along the way made the experience even better. Strangers smiled at us, some even offering us food, and the caretakers of the cottages were kind and accommodating. There was a sense of warmth, not just in the place, but in the people too.

But as with every adventure, not everything went smoothly. One of my friends slipped on a large rock and ended up with a deep cut on his foot. At first, we were worried, but he brushed it off, saying, “Okay lang ako.” Even though we knew it must have been painful, he didn’t want the accident to spoil the happiness of that day. His courage reminded us all to stay calm, be strong, and enjoy the moment despite challenges.

For me, it was my first time at River Tugnaw, and it didn’t disappoint. The mountains surrounding us, the lush trees, the sound of rushing water, and the refreshing cold river combined into a breathtaking scene. It wasn’t just a place—it was an experience.

What I learned that day is simple but important: always be careful, because accidents can happen when we least expect them. But more than that, I realized how precious it is to spend time with the people who matter. Despite the little mishaps, the happiness of being complete as a group outweighed everything else.

As I looked around one last time before leaving, I felt my heart swell with gratitude. The stunning view of River Tugnaw will forever stay in my memory, but more than the scenery, it was the laughter, the bonds, and the joy of that day that made the trip unforgettable.

A Day of Fire and Glory at the District Meet

Name: Mary Cherry A. Rusiana

Grade & section: 12-Sartre

September 19, 2025 marked an unforgettable day at Agay National High School as the District Meet brought together athletes, students, and supporters in a celebration of sportsmanship and passion. The atmosphere resembled a festival, filled with cheers, claps, and excitement as different sports unfolded—volleyball, futsal, badminton, sepak takraw, and more. Yet, for many, basketball stood out as the true highlight, igniting the loudest roars from the crowd.

At 9:45 in the morning, the covered court buzzed with anticipation as the first basketball game began. The Agay National High School team wasted no time showing their talent. Even during warm-ups, a flawless three-point shot sent waves of amazement through the audience. It was a sign of the intensity yet to come.

The game pitted three players from Agay against three from Balang-balang National High School. From the opening minutes, the match was a test of strength, skill, and heart. Agay scored first, taking an early lead, but Balang-balang refused to be overshadowed. They fought back with their own three-pointers and quick moves, thrilling the spectators with every exchange.

When the final buzzer sounded, Agay emerged victorious, 19–17. The narrow margin reflected the determination of both teams and set the stage for an even more exciting rematch.

By 10:30 a.m., the second game began, and the tension was palpable. The whistle blew, and players charged into the court like warriors ready for battle. The crowd’s cheers and playful banter added fuel to the fire, making the game even more electrifying. Balang-balang scored first, but Agay quickly responded with another three-pointer that shook the gymnasium with excitement.

With only five seconds left, Agay held possession of the ball. Time slowed, and the crowd’s heartbeat seemed to sync with the ticking clock. They held on until the buzzer, securing a 15–10 victory.

Though Balang-balang fell short, their smiles revealed pride and joy in their performance. Agay, on the other hand, celebrated triumphantly, their fans leaping and shouting in pure exhilaration.

In the end, the District Meet was more than just a competition. It was a story of perseverance, teamwork, and the fiery spirit of youth—proving that in every game, whether in victory or defeat, there is always glory to be found.

"Under the acacia tree: A stand for Equality "

 Name: Mary Cherry A. Rusiana

Grade & section: 12-Sartre

I still remember the day my ateko (ate-kuya) Charlotte whispered to me under the shade of an old acacia tree, his voice trembling like leaves dancing in the wind “Do you think it’s wrong to love someone of the same gender?” His eyes carried both hope and fear, as if the world would collapse depending on my answer. I looked at him, at the sincerity carved into his face, and I realized—love, in its purest form, has no boundaries.

‎One of the strongest reasons why I stand for same-sex marriage is simple yet profound: everyone deserves equal rights. To deny two people the chance to marry just because they share the same gender feels like painting the sky and commanding the sun not to shine. It is unfair. Love is not a privilege for a chosen few; it is a right that belongs to all. When we reject same-sex marriage, we are not just rejecting couples—we are rejecting equality itself. Allowing it, however, shows that our society values respect for every heartbeat, no matter whose chest it belongs to.

‎I also believe that marriage rests on the solid foundation of love. Imagine a home built not of bricks, but of trust, loyalty, and faithfulness. That is what marriage should be. Gender does not weaken those walls, nor does it change the meaning of love. Two men holding hands, or two women exchanging vows, embody the same commitment as any other couple. What matters most is that their love is genuine, unshaken by storms, and willing to endure for a lifetime.

‎And lastly, I support same-sex marriage because it opens the doors of acceptance and understanding. When people witness love in its many colors—whether it comes as red roses or yellow sunflowers—they learn that love cannot be confined to a single shade. Supporting same-sex marriage helps dismantle hate, bullying, and discrimination. It builds a society where no one hides behind shadows, where every person can walk freely, embraced for who they truly are.

‎I go back to that moment under the acacia tree. I told my ateko,"No, it’s not wrong. Love is never wrong. His smile bloomed like sunlight after a long rain. And in that instant, I knew why I stand firmly: because love, in all its forms, is the most beautiful truth humanity will ever know.

"Holding on by letting go"

 Name:Mary Cherry A. Rusiana

Section:12- Sartre

My name is Marie, and I was seventeen when this memory etched itself into my heart. People often told me I was cheerful, like sunlight slipping through half-closed windows, always eager to brighten a room. But that afternoon, my father’s words lit me up in a way no one else’s ever had.

“Tinay, get dressed,” he called with a rare excitement in his tone. “We’re going back to Ozamis for the fiesta.”

The word fiesta alone was enough to make my pulse quicken. It meant color, laughter, the smell of roasted lechon wafting through the streets, and familiar faces I hadn’t seen in years.

As I folded clothes into my bag, my phone buzzed. A name flashed on the screen. Ronel. My childhood friend. My secret ache.

“You’re coming home?” his message read.

I set the phone on my bed, fingers hovering as if they wanted to type a thousand words. But time pulled me away; I was in a hurry. Still, his name clung to me like perfume you can’t wash off.

The journey back felt like opening a long-forgotten book. Every bend in the road showed me how much had changed, yet how much remained achingly familiar. I pressed my forehead to the window, snapping pictures of the landscape, afraid the moment might slip away too quickly.

By the time we arrived, night had already draped its velvet curtain over the city. My uncles, Leo and Ekong, met us with laughter loud enough to compete with the hum of the tricycle engines. Their voices rose and fell like music, blending with the faint melody playing in my earphones. Midnight found us at our old house. December 14. The eve of celebration.

The next morning, my father shook me awake. “Tinay, church,” he said.

Water trickled over me in the shower, but it couldn’t wash away Ronel’s unanswered message. A thought pressed against me like a thorn: What’s the point? He already has a girlfriend.

The church bells rang, scattering doves into the early sky. We arrived before the crowd, the pews still mostly empty. I tried to focus on the priest’s words, but my eyes strayed—and there he was. Ronel.

Our gazes met like two stones striking sparks. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw questions flicker in his eyes. Questions I had no courage to answer.

After mass, we went to Grandma Rosita’s house, where the air was thick with garlic, onion, and the steady rhythm of her ladle against the pot. I slipped beside her, offering to help, when the kitchen door creaked open.

“Welcome back, Tinay,” a voice said.

I turned, and there he was—Ronel, framed by the doorway, smiling the same boyish smile I knew from years ago. My heart tripped over itself.

He stepped forward and hugged me, and in that embrace was the warmth of childhood afternoons, mango trees, and secrets whispered in the dark. For a moment, the world shrank to just us.

But then Uncle Leo barged in, his grin wide, his teasing sharper than any knife. “Ay, look at you two!”

I froze. Heat climbed my cheeks. Ronel laughed easily, brushing it off, but I knew Uncle Leo could see through me. He always did—he was my walking diary, keeper of my confessions.

Yet the truth stood between us like a locked gate. Ronel had a girlfriend. He loved her. Once, with disarming honesty, he told me he only saw me as a friend. And I respected that, even when my heart rebelled.

Inside me, a battle raged. Don’t force it. Don’t say it. Don’t ruin it. I repeated those words like prayer beads, each one a reminder of what I stood to lose.

And so I chose silence. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much. I chose to protect the fragile bridge we had built, rather than risk setting it on fire for something uncertain.

That day, I learned love isn’t always about holding tighter. Sometimes, it’s about stepping back, letting the current take what it must. Love can be a whisper we bury in our chest, a secret gift we give by not asking for more.

I didn’t know what the future would bring. But I believed in one thing: the right person would come, at the right place, at the right time.

Until then, I held on to this memory—Ronel’s arms around me, the echo of his voice calling me Tinay, and the bittersweet ache of a love I had to let go.