National Geographic : 1966 Sep
So it took courage for my volunteer guide, Benjamin Tan, to drive me to the provincial capitol outside the city. "It stands in a danger ous district," he said, adding that the gover nor used the building only occasionally. We saw but one person there: a guard in a white T-shirt, a rifle loosely cradled in his arms. In the main corridor of the building a cow gravely chewed her cud. We drove on to palm-tousled Mobo Beach, where a Japanese war vessel rusted in the gentle surf. Then we headed back to Jolo. At Notre Dame of Jolo College, maintained by the Oblates of Mary Immaculate, I talked to Father Cuthbert Billman, a tall man in a white cassock. "We go out of town all the time, and we certainly are Christians," he said. "But we don't proselytize. We try to solve problems through education. We try to build some of the bridges Pope John XXIII talked about." The Notre Dame College student body is 75 percent Moslem. Whatever else it may be-and it certainly is one of the fascinating small cities-Jolo must be the noisiest spot on earth. In a span of two minutes I noted these sounds: Bing Crosby singing "Happy Birthday to You" on 337 KODACHROMES N N.G.S.