Fatima Hills: A Sanctuary of Peace Amid Struggle

By: John Dela Cruz

In the soft light of the late 1960s, I remember a sacred moment that shaped my soul — a quiet encounter in our home on Datu Bangkaya Avenue in Kalibo, Aklan. A gentle old man, clothed in a simple brown sutana tied with a rope, stepped slowly into our wooden sala. He was known to many as the Ermetanyo — the Hermit of Bueabud.

His long white beard and hair gave him the look of one touched by eternity. He spoke little, moved gently, and carried the silent strength of someone who had walked many years with God. My grandfather, Ciriaco Icamina Sr., welcomed him warmly. They spoke in hushed tones — not just as old friends, but as men deeply connected in spirit and faith.

My mother, Josefina, leaned close and whispered to me that he was a hermit from Bueabud — a quiet, mountainous barangay of Malinao, Aklan. He lived alone in a cave deep in the hills, a man who had turned his back on the world to dedicate his life to prayer and penance. Despite his solitude, he was known as a learned man — a traveler who spoke many languages, yet chose silence in service to God.

His name was Brother Francisco Tolentino, FT, and in 1959, he founded a place that would become a living sanctuary of peace: Fatima Hills. For many years, my grandfather would climb the rugged trails to visit him — not for advice or answers, but for the peace that came from simply being near a soul so close to heaven.

After Brother Francisco’s passing, the Catholic Church, with support from Rome, built a chapel on the very hill where he had lived and prayed. That sacred site became known as Fatima Hills, now home to the Penitent Sisters of Our Lady of Fatima, who continue the hermit’s legacy of contemplation, sacrifice, and prayer for the world.

Every Lenten season, pilgrims journey to Fatima Hills to walk the Twelve Stations of the Cross, laid out around the verdant slopes and rock-lined paths. As you climb, you feel the stillness that once filled the life of the hermit — a silence that brings not emptiness, but peace.

Yet Bueabud, like much of the world, knows hardship.

For decades, it was a remote and quiet hinterland, accessible only by foot or rough trail. Its people faced poverty, isolation, and the daily challenges of rural life. Violence and loss have left their mark here too. But with the recent opening of cemented roads connecting Kalibo to Madalag — passing through Lezo, Malinao, and finally into Bueabud — this once-hidden place has begun to open its arms to the world.

Still, it retains its soul.

Bueabud draws its name from the river that snakes gracefully through its valleys, flowing from the mountains down to the great Aklan River. The river, like the hermit’s life, is a quiet stream that nourishes everything in its path — unseen by many, but life-giving to all.

Today, across the hill from Fatima Hills, stands Ciriaco Icamina National High School, named in honor of my grandfather — a loyal friend to the hermit and a humble man who believed in the power of faith, education, and service.

Fatima Hills is more than a destination — it is a testimony.

A testimony that even in forgotten corners of the earth, God plants seeds of grace. That holiness can rise from hardship, and beauty from suffering. That the prayers whispered in the silence of a cave can echo through generations, calling us to pause, reflect, and return to the divine.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”
— Matthew 11:28