Antay Gabriel, on his dying day, gathered all his relatives by his bedside and left them his final words:   "I am going to leave, so listen well."   Before our soldiers came we the mountain people had nothing.   Our fathers and mothers before us fled from the dreaded guardia civil in the lowlands, settled here and thought of freedom.   They felled the giant trees slashed and burned the mountainsides for the yearly golden dream hunted and fished with their nets and spears but they never did become free.   The guardia civil came just the same then after them the bandits and later on the constabularios. All had guns and all came to enslave, to plunder and to kill. Incensed, our fathers and mothers fiercely fought back in self-defense but yet disunited and unenlightened in the end could do nothing....   In that squalor and brutal innocence did we, their children, come into the world and suffer. Like them, we slashed and burned hunted and fished, and furthermore filled the haciendas with our sweat bore the insults of the landlords trembled and kneeled before the mighty saw our brothers killed in cold blood and, painfully, said nothing. . . .   because the land, the rivers and creeks, the air we breathed- we thought they were ours and they were all that mattered.   Then they came again, the men with guns in their haughty uniforms, and told us: 'This land belongs to the Army Reservation. Either pay the rent or die!' Heads bowed, our brothers and sisters- all of us!-seethed in quiet rage but said nothing. . . .   And so it has been: we toiled much we were still naked to poverty our children still suffered and we were not free.   Then our soldiers came.   So unlike the other men with guns in gentle awe did we shelter these men and women and saw their fortitude their patience and their discipline. From them we learned many new things: the roots of our sufferings our strengths and our weaknesses the cunning and treachery of our enemies the revolutionary war - our destiny!   From there, we slowly grew in strength. Like wild mushrooms in the fields after the first rains of May organizations never known before sprouted in our mountain villages: committees, study groups, mutual aid teams, militias! With bare hands and little else we changed the face of our mountainhome. We made gardens and orchards out of the idle earth fishponds and ricefields out of creeksides - each of us unafraid of sacrifice for the good of all!   One by one fell those who tried to destroy our hard-won gains: traitors in our midst, spies from without, ICHDFs! Never since our fathers and mothers had a struggle such as ours swept across the entire breadth of Angas!   Heads up at last we the mountain people have begun to live like men.   And so it is now: we toil much we are still naked to poverty our children still suffer the evil men with guns still come to enslave, to plunder and to kill but we have earned great wisdom: now we know how to fight back and we have come this far.   And so.... I leave you the deeds still undone.   I leave you our soldiers: feed them and give them shelter. Above all, learn from them.   Never quarrel among yourselves; the long war stretches before you- wage it with one heart and one mind. Have courage. Be as the dangula: strong and unyielding to the end.   And do not grieve for me; I am content. Leave your grieving for the battle dead but never forget. . . the land. . . the rivers and creeks. . . the air you breathe. Yours... and the children's.... Finally."   And with those words Antay Gabriel died peacefully.