Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
– Philippians 2:4
In Filipino culture, kuya means “older brother,” but it’s more than just a word. Calling someone kuya breaks the ice and signals respect, it marks age or seniority without sounding overly formal.
As someone who has two older brothers who are always there to tease me, watch out for me, make me laugh, or just be someone to talk to, it’s been hard being away from home for two months without them.
Here on the ag team, we’re paired with some of the local kuyas—the guys who know what they’re doing and graciously pretend like we know what we’re doing too. They’ve taught us how to build A-frames, make bamboo baskets (which sounds easy until you realize bamboo fights back), clear brush with machetes (don’t worry, everyone still has all ten fingers), and make little seed starters.
But their brotherhood goes way beyond farming.
They’ve gone shopping with us (even when we spent 30 minutes deciding between two snacks). They’ve climbed coconut trees to get fresh coconuts for us during the hot ag workdays and climbed mango trees while we waited for Bible study to start, jumped in puddles with us and acted like monkeys just to make us laugh. They’ve translated our choppy sentences, prayed with and for us, laughed with us (and at us), and welcomed us into the rhythms of their lives without hesitation. They’ve guided us through their culture with so much joy and patience. And they’ve watched out for us like real older brothers.
Whenever we walk through the city, they naturally fall into triangle formation—one in front, one in the middle, one in the back—like a security detail… but with flip-flops and machetes. And every time we grab a machete and say, “I got this,” you can see the concern flash across their faces like, “She does not, in fact, got this.”
These guys aren’t brothers by blood, but by the kind of love that shows up, that serves, that steps in and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll go first.” The kind of brotherhood that feels like safety, laughter, patience, and humility all wrapped into one.
They haven’t just shown up for the easy, fun moments but also through homesickness, language mishaps, long team nights, and days when the heat feels endless and the eggplant seeds never end. Through it all, they’ve remained patient, protective, encouraging, and steady.
And that’s what makes them real kuyas.
Not just because we call them that—but because they live it.
A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.
– Proverbs 17:17
