Babylyn: When education turns poverty into a midwifery career.

In the south-west of Luzon Island in the Philippines, a small Aeta community lives deep in the forest near the town of Bagac. This is where Babylyn Gavino, a young woman with an inspiring story, was born and raised within a community that has long faced discrimination. Driven by a determination to make a difference for her family and her community, she chose to become a midwife. Here begins her story.

STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY ANTOINE BESSON

As the car climbs into the mountains of Bataan province, the last rays of the setting sun turn Subic Bay’s calm waters to gold. Once a US naval base, the area is now dominated by factories that dump their waste with little regard for health or the environment. Turning away from the sea and open horizon, the engine carries the vehicle deeper into the lush landscape. The low evening light throws long, shifting shadows of palm and bamboo trees that seem to flee before the headlights. Clément Waquet, director of Children of the Mekong in the Philippines, is heading into the mountains at night, bound for the small village of Sitio Matalangao, just north of Bagac, for a meeting that promises to be unforgettable.

GROWING UP ON THE MARGINS: POVERTY IN A FILIPINO ETHNIC MINORITY

By the time we reach the village, night has fallen, yet Babylyn Gavino is waiting outside her house. At 25, she is just 4 feet 10 inches, though beside her eight brothers and sisters she almost seems tall.

Round faced, dark skinned, with tightly curled hair and a slightly flattened nose, she greets us with a radiant smile. Babylyn looks nothing like the stereotypical image of a Filipino girl, and for good reason. She belongs to one of the archipelago’s 182 ethnolinguistic groups, one of the most emblematic among the country’s indigenous peoples, the Aeta. “Our people are among the island’s earliest inhabitants,” she says in fluent English.

Some scientists trace the arrival of the Aeta’s ancestors in the archipelago back more than 30,000 years, to a time when sea levels were far lower and the islands were still linked to the Asian mainland.

“When I was a child, I went to school in Bagac. The other children called me ‘kulot salot’,” Babylyn recalls, her smile never fading. The insult means “curly pest” in Tagalog and speaks volumes about the discrimination Aeta communities still face today, their numbers steadily declining. With a playful flick of her curls, she adds, “A few years later, I won the municipal beauty contest. I was second runner up.” There is a quiet note of triumph in her voice.

The cruelty of the playground often mirrors that of the adult world. Discrimination persists, encouraging many indigenous families to remain among their own in remote mountain villages, far from the towns. “Most Aeta live in villages like this,” explains Clément Waquet. “Homes are simple, families are large, and livelihoods depend largely on small-scale farming.”

And yet, here she is.

FROM A SMALL VILLAGE TO A CAREER IN MIDWIFERY

“I qualified as a midwife and now work in a rural health unit as a civil servant with the Department of Health,” Babylyn says with quiet pride. She sits in her parents’ kitchen, idly scraping the hard-packed earth floor with the tip of her shoe.

Her journey has been anything but easy. As a child, she endured teasing and insults at primary school, yet her steady voice and infectious laugh hint at a determination that would not be broken.

“I was six when I began to be sponsored. I was still in nursery and I could not read or write,” she recalls. Back then, her parents’ modest income, just ten sacks of rice twice a year, barely fed their nine children.

“My four sisters are now housewives. They have children and left school much earlier than I did. But I had a dream from a very young age. I wanted to become a nurse and care for the Aeta,” she says. In the end, she chose midwifery, a shorter and more affordable course of study that allowed her to serve her community.

“I was six when I began to be sponsored. I could not read or write, and yet here I am.”

Sponsorship helps a child get an education and follow their dream. Support education in the Philippines!

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THE AETAS, A MARGINALISED COMMUNITY

Years of exclusion and discrimination have led many Aeta communities to turn inward. “Guided by fear, they are often shy and uneasy in situations where they are not among their own. This leads them to live in isolation, leave school early, and have very little formal education,” says one of the Bamboo volunteers who met Babylyn and followed her programme.

The same fear often stops Aeta people from going to hospital for treatment. Babylyn cannot accept this injustice, especially after losing a younger sister to a heart attack when she was a child. Perhaps that painful memory gave her the determination to keep going, walking hours to and from school each day while her cousins dropped out one by one.

A SPONSOR’S SUPPORT, A GIRL’S DETERMINATION

Could it have been the encouragement of her sponsor, Nathalie, that gave her the strength to keep going, even when the loneliness in her boarding house brought tears to her eyes, far from her family? Babylyn is modest about this and says little, sharing only a hint of emotion:

“Every time I received my sponsorship, I thanked God and hurried to the shop to buy something to cook for my family. I truly believe my sponsor helped me become a better person, which was especially important in my case.”

Philippines

A BLESSING THAT COMES WITH RESPONSIBILITY

Seated next to Babylyn, her parents nod along, though they don’t understand her words. She looks at them with quiet affection. For her, the gift she has received comes with a duty.

“I’m the only one in my family who got support to go to school and finish my studies. That makes me the only graduate, and it’s my responsibility to support my family and my community,” says the midwife, still in her work uniform. She counts her large family aloud: “There are my nine nieces and nephews, and my brother, who has gone back to school to study criminology and join the police.” Perhaps seeing his older sister succeed encouraged him to continue his education.

“I get up early and don’t get home until late, but I’m happy because I love what I do. Every time I deliver a baby, I feel like a heroine, because on those days I save two lives!”

A short laugh escapes Babylyn, and soon her parents and youngest sister are laughing with her. In the small wooden and corrugated-iron kitchen, their joy fills the night, turning the humble space into something bright, warm, and alive.

Here, in the heart of her parents’ home, Babylyn keeps dreaming big: “I want to keep working so I can save money and give my parents a bigger house. I also want to travel.”

And if she could fly anywhere tomorrow, where would she go? Without hesitation, she says: “To France, to meet my sponsor and thank her.”

As the car heads back toward the coast, Babylyn’s delicate figure, hand outstretched, disappears into the night. Her smile lingers, a quiet light of hope. That hope may well be what makes a true hero.

SPONSORSHIP IN THE PHILIPPINES

The Philippines faces a growing gap between the rich and the poor, a mass rural exodus to major cities such as Manila and Cebu, and the highest unemployment rate in the region. Through sponsorship, Children of the Mekong supports children living on the streets and in slums, as well as those in remote rural areas. Many partnerships are established locally with Filipino and NGOs, religious communities, and lay organisations.

Our work in the Philippines

Sponsorship enables a child from a very poor family to attend school by covering the costs of education, including uniforms, school supplies, and transport. Without this support, many children from very poor families drop out to work and help their families, with little hope of a stable career. Education is the key that can open the door to a secure job and provide lasting support for the whole family.

Sponsorship supports a child throughout their education. It helps cover essential costs such as uniforms, school supplies, and extra lessons, provides guidance from the local coordinator and the “Bamboo” volunteers, and offers moral support from a sponsor who encourages the child through letters. This kind of support is invaluable: the child knows someone believes in them and inspires them to keep learning.

In rural Southeast Asia, life is hard. Most families make their living from farming, with parents working as day labourers for a low and unpredictable wage. Some cannot read or write and focus entirely on putting food on the table, so the value of education is not always clear.

Without it, children are likely to follow the same path, ending up in unstable jobs for life. Education changes everything. It gives children the skills to read, write and take on a skilled profession, opening the door to a steady income and social security. In short, it is the most powerful way to break the cycle of poverty and give a child and their family a real chance at a better future.

In remote rural areas, life can be tough. Schools are often far away, families survive on unstable farming incomes, ethnic minorities face discrimination, and children frequently leave education early to work and support their families.

Education is the key to breaking the cycle of poverty, and child sponsorship is one of the most effective ways to give lasting support and fight child labour.