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Holding a canao in Malacanang
ESTHER DAWN PACLIM

Because women can do everything, now is the season to do so. They might do the country good by going to Malacanang and do a canao. This is suggested to 200 or so and to a few good men, who celebrated the International Women’s Day at the newly built LTB gymnasium where they could invoke God’s mercy with the power of prayer.

La Trinidad, Benguet Mayor Artemio Galwan said in the light of the present political and social turmoil, in some probability, the Philippines must have fallen under a curse spelled by Manuel L. Quezon when he said that he would rather see the Philippines ruled like hell by the Filipinos than like heaven by Americans.

The mayor noted that the state of the Philippines is now in some kind of prophecy -- the Philippines under one president after another either has actually been ruled like hell or has been attacked by hell from all sides.

The mayor, who is serving his first term, said that women should not underestimate what they can do. They can do another Indira Gandhi, Golda Meier, or Margaret Thatcher in their own little special ways.

He added that the role of women has changed tremendously in that they have become assertive – a reason for them not to pity themselves. In fact they have so much power in their hands that they can make or unmake a nation; can bring about the motherly leadership this nation desperately needs; can uphold the persistence and wisdom that brings peace; and, can found the solid leadership that begets a solid nation.

With our kind of Ibaloi women power, the canao they may perform in Malacanang might dissipate the curse that has fallen on Philippine governance. In the Benguet hinterlands, a ritual, the canao, is performed to dispel curse.

However, such power must be handled with care, the mayor advised. He added that as good citizens, they must not launch out to destroy the nation but should properly exercise such power gained.

Vice-Mayor Samuel Esguerra shared to the same group of women that through the years, LTB women have gone a long way and have gained leadership prominence in governance as elected officials and office heads.

To mention a few: Priscilla Baban has earned the distinction of being the town’s first lady councilor who went on to become first lady vice-mayor. Cecily Laoyan-Sagubo was a councilor, Josephine Gacad was a councilor who also became vice mayor while Edna C. Tabanda was councilor, then became first lady mayor, then later made it to become Benguet’s first number two highest official.
Rosemarie Dulnuan, the occasion’s guest speaker, said that indeed, strength and power can be drawn from prayer and silence, in that the practice could unite and benefit the nation. Prayer and silence give the nation time to calculate how it can appropriately surmount the odds. And why not, why do we not become a nation of prayer?

Ms Dulnuan, who herself is a well-accomplished businesswoman and pharmacist, said that solving our nation’s turmoil boils down to ourselves –to what we can do as individuals to the kind of value system we develop and to the quality of perception and thoughts we develop.

Spearheaded by the La Trinidad municipal social welfare development office and Women’s Federation, the International Women’s Day was celebrated with the theme: “CEDAW ng Bayan, Yaman ng Kababaihan.” CEDAW is an acronym for Convention on the Elimination of
Discrimination against Women.

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The heritage town of Kiangan
(First part of a series)
GLO A. TUAZON

KIANGAN, Ifugao – Kiangan is an old town, the oldest in the province of Ifugao. The name Kiangan evolved from the term Kiyyangan, the name of the ancient village that it used to be, located astride the Ibulao River. It is a name often told in their folk tales to be the dwelling place of Kabigat and Bugan, the mythological ancestors of the Ifugaos.

Kiangan is just one rural town but unknown to most outsiders, is very rich in history. From the welcome sign just across the Ibulao bridge, you might perceive a sleepy town, searing hot when the eye of the day rises as red as blood.

Beyond that sign is a place where the spirit dances and memories persist. Not far ahead starts the long winding road to the town proper, passing along the ever present terraces along the way. Reaching Poblacion and going around the seemingly silent route is a totally different story, all in one stretch of road.

In the history of the province, Kiangan is the seat of Ifugao government since 1889 until 1949, spanning sixty years from the Spanish to the American and Japanese era. It was also the center of commerce and education to the post war years until it was finally moved to Lagawe in 1949.
The Philippine war history would not be complete without the town asserting its right as one of the strongholds of resistance in the north during WWII. The Kiangan War Memorial Shrine was built in 1974 to commemorate the Filipino and American soldiers who died in that war.

The edifice is located in Sitio Linda, Barangay Poblacion just a few hundred meters away from their municipal hall. The memorial was constructed of steel and concrete and embedded with a huge wood carving depicting war scenes, making brothers of Filipinos and Americans who died side by side defending the land from the elite forces of the Japanese Imperial Army then led by the “Tiger of Malaya”. Gen. Tomoyuki Yamashita who surrendered to the Fil-Am forces on September 2, 1945. At the back of the edifice are twin stairs on either side spiraling up to a tower three floors up on a deck overlooking the area surrounding it. And the view stretches to the town of Lagawe and
the mountains around it.

The Kiangan Shrine is a well maintained lot, the manicured lawns spanning the length and width of the entire grounds to include the outdoor stage and the Ifugao Museum just a few steps across the memorial. The museum displaying relics and memorabilias of their history and heritage.
Take a tricycle ride and alight at Teachers’s Avenue still in Barangay Poblacion. An old wooden building stands big and imposing. The white paint turning cream with weather and use, warping in some places. It is a straight rectangular structure, with windows dotting the façade and the hallways echoing the voices and footsteps of children. Who else knows what echoes there when school is out and the children are not there?

You can feel the silence stretching all the way to the other end. In the Home Economics room of this school was where Gen. Yamashita and his command staff made the unconditional surrender on September 2, 1945. From here the “Tiger” was taken along with his men to Camp John Hay in Baguio City via Bagabag, Nueva Viscaya and La Union. The next day Sept. 3, 1945 in Baguio, he signed his formal surrender of the Japanese Imperial Army to the Philippines and Allied Forces.
Walk a little further along and on the left side is the Ifugao Academy and the UCCP Church, both very well antiqued and story laden too. In 1926, the Ifugao Academy was built and founded by Myrtle M. Metzger. He was an American missionary who came over and fell in love with the land and its people, he then started Protestantism in this place and in the records this school was the first High School ever in Ifugao.

Way up along is the so called Million Dollar Hill (Upper Poblacion). Story goes that the Americans poured in almost a million dollars to be able to conquer the hill during the war, hence the name. In the war years this hill was dotted with foxholes and trenches and tunnels made by the Japanese Army in their retreat to the mountains going to Hungduan and Wangwang, Tinoc, Ifugao.
Along the route is the Yamashita trekking trails today just across the junction to Barangay Nagacadan. This trail by the way is now one favorite trekking site, spanning about 30 kilometers of forested and terraced areas. The rice terraces of Nagacadan are also wonders to behold along with those of Bae.

In Sitio Bae, Barangay Ambabag also stands the Uhat Mission Site established by Fr. Jose Lorenzo in 1864. This is the very first Roman Catholic Mission in Kiangan under the Spanish rule. Nearby is the marvelous Ambuwaya Lake. Move to Barangay Julongan and you get to the Spanish Hill, named so as this is the place where the Spaniards erected a garrison after settling in the area. These are just some of the historical sites in Kiangan, but almost everywhere you go, there is one more story to tell and a sight to marvel at.

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A forgotten village
GLORIA A. TUAZON

TINGLAYAN, Kalinga -- Traversing the long, winding road from Poblacion, Bontoc past Sadanga to Bugnay, Tinglayan in the early morning is exhilarating. Everything is fresh and green, too vivid that it makes the mountains come alive. It seemed too peaceful that those who knew the past would cringe and shudder at the thought. It is serenely beautiful, everything like postcard pictures.

We came to a bend where the old lookout nook was perched. Just a small galvanized iron sheet square of a hut with a door and a small window, maybe good enough for three people to stand in. This used to be the place where they stood guard to watch for intruders, during the days when tribal
wars were everyday concerns, late 70s to its dwindling days in the dawn of the 90s.

It is hard to believe that such serene places like these used to be battlegrounds of sorts. But today I delved in it, I fell in love with the mountains and the silence of the land, it screamed freedom.

Beside the lookout is the welcome sign to Kalinga, with invitations to visit the splendid place. The signage is almost invisible, the paint all warped up and washed out by the weather. Nevertheless it did not dampen my spirit, I came alive with anticipation and gratitude that I was able to set foot in this place.

From up high on the main road we were looking down a small village perched at the bossom of the mountain across us. Just a small village safely located above the mighty Chico River. It was the only spot with a change of color and scenery from the green of the mountains. We trooped down the mountain floor to cross the hanging bridge connecting the main road to the village then took the pathways though the scattered rice fields up to their homestead, a steep climb up.

My fascination grew and my slit, squinting eyes sparkled and darted about at the scene. This I say is rugged territory -- everything raw and simple. Small traditional thatched houses, most out of bamboo slats and cogon grass roofs, some though have improved to include GI sheets and concrete walls.

The place is achingly raw and basic that the whole community only shares two common bathrooms and toilets. The water supply is abundant, coming from a deep well manually pumped way beside the bathrooms. The houses are built close to each other that if you open a window you are looking into the interior of the next house, leaving only a narrow pathway for “road rights”.

What fascinated me the most were the tiny black, pot-bellied pigs. Almost every household has them, and they prowl the village like dogs, snorting at people with their tummies scraping the ground. Comes evening and they go home to “roost” and be fed.

The sight is comforting in a certain kind of way, down home I say. A far off thing from the city where convenience is at my feet.

This is a place where you could live off on two pairs of shirt and not worry about your looks. Aesthetics has no place here, as beauty gleams off from the rough, thick hands of people who work the earth, from the toothy, genuine smile of sharp eyes silently probing you.

Contrary to stories I’ve heard these people are hospitable. And I learned to only eat a little portion when offered food or drinks to be able to accommodate all the food and coffee offers handed to us. Declining an offer would mean an insult to them I was explained, so visitors have to adjust to that. But their coffee is one of the best I’ve tasted yet.

Home-roast coffee beans pounded daily (as with their daily rice supply), the aroma reaching you before the tin cups were ever filled with the steaming concoction. Since city comfort is a world away, they grow their own rice and stock it in granaries. They also grow corn, sweet potatoes, coffee and some vegetables.

They raise swine and dogs and chickens too. The surrounding mountains still provide them with a once in awhile supply of hunted, wild animals. As also a steady supply of dried wood for cooking and lumber for house repairs and constructions. The Chico River down below is an amazing provider of silted sand and stones. And a great recreation site for swimming and picnicking along the banks.

Bugnay is devastatingly warm, or hot if I may say so because the heat sears the skin -- reason why most of the people here with a few exceptions have tanned skin. Exposure to the sun and the river takes its toll. The villagers are not as tall as their neighboring brothers in the other Kalinga municipalities but they still have the same sharp eyes and prominent cheekbones.

The ridge of their noses as sharp as the mountains surrounding them sometimes curving down like a hawk bill. The people here used to be warriors, and fierce ones at that. History does not lie because they really were headhunters of sorts back then. Then Christianity entered the village nineteen years ago, a group of missionaries from the YWAM community painstakingly converted the people into what they are now.

The small multipurpose hall and church is filled to the brim every worship day. They sing their praises, their voices reaching up, beyond the arid lands up to the skies. So who says people cannot be changed especially with a good and worthy reason?

Treading up and down the village I sat on a small clearing evened out and thinly concreted, my foot tracing some kind of embedded letterings only to read that I was sitting right on the grave of their local hero, Dulag Macliing.

The person who along with his town mates openly opposed the then project of Ferdinand Marcos to dam the Chico River. History has it that his group were hunted down and killed. They opposed the damming for reasons that Bugnay would be obliterated from the map if the project pushed through.

Looking at the grave now, the hero lies silent, right in the middle of the village he helped save. Looking up to the mountains and basking in the glory of the river whistling below.

I just realized that however people tried to measure the pride and prejudice of its people, they have never conquered the soul of the land. It has always thrived in freedom, uncalculated and immeasurable as the daily coming of dawn and hope.

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Remembering Mainit
GLORIA A. TUAZON

BONTOC, Mountain Province -- Mainit is a little known town located atop a mountain, about forty five minutes uphill drive from Poblacion. It is still under the coverage area of this capital town, passing Barangay Guinaang along the way. Riding with the men “top load” on a passenger jeepney, the dot that is Mainit town starts to materialize as Poblacion becomes a vast panorama. The way uphill is stretched in alternating asphalt or concrete to dirt roads.

But all the way up it was beautiful, the roads lined up with pine and shrubs and above us were birds swirling and enjoying the warm sun and light drizzle, like tiny gliders roaming the skies. We picked up school children hitching for rides along the way, and they crammed inside the already fully-packed vehicle, some sitting on welcoming laps or on safe baggages neatly bundled in the middle aisle.

A few minutes and the village started to widen before us and we stopped in awe looking up at the misty mountains, rising white smokes sprouting every which way. They seem to rise out of nothing. Spewing like an eerie omen from half asleep giants under the scorching volcanic grounds. From where we were, the landscape was a patchwork of green rice fields, sugarcane or corn plantations and thatched or plain GI sheet homes. It all looked so simple and remote. Yet something was driving me to hyper curiosity again.

The smell of the stark white columns of sulphuric gas emissions wafts through the air with the occasional gusts of wind, filling my lungs. Looking around I noticed that the village is indeed uncomplicated, like nothing changed much since their grandparents roamed the land. There were only a few improved houses made from concrete.

Along the dirt, narrow pathway to the lodging place was a diminutive store with few merchandise. And then before us was part of the river originating from further uphill. This is now the famed hot-water river of Mainit. Like the smoking tip of a newly fired gun, steaming hot that it could scald an animal in slaughter. Now in the early evening it hisses with the reddish-orange sun diving below the horizon to the west.

People came by, passing us with curious glances. Noticing that most of them have this distinct facial feature, almost angular that their faces come out really sharp. Most chins tapered and their cheekbones were pronounced. Scientist say the people of a land adapt to their habitat, so maybe it has to do with their kind of living and their lineage too. They speak almost the same language as the other Bontoc tribes except from the distinction in diction and pronunciation. They speak with a certain sway, creating unexpected stops at the throat. Mainit as the name implies is a hot place during daytime, but night time is a different story.

It is furiously cold that it seeps through the skin at dawn. So for convenience’ sake and to make the most of what they have each household sourced out hot water and hosed it to their residences, providing them with a steady supply of hot, bathing and washing water. Five in the morning woke me up to the noise of livestock calling out their morning rituals for sustenance. All around was this thick wash of white fog and wet mist, surrounding everything.

It reminded me of Jack the Ripper prowling the streets of London hunting for preys, or of wolves silently appearing from the mists and clawing at unsuspecting victims. These hours, the people would slowly start clanging out pots and kettles to start the day, feed the livestock and head out to the fields or workplaces. Agriculture is the main livelihood in Mainit, tourism having died or to say it bluntly not much supported or sustained. The inhabitants here believed though that it may not be a very good idea to promote the place much, for reasons of destruction of nature and tranquility.

The land indeed thrived for generations as it was, raw and vivid as the faces of its inhabitants. This hilltop village that housed a hundred geysers and hot springs with a background of an almost virgin forest. All green in the canopy of very old trees, covering stretches of mosses and ferns, of exotic orchids hanging from trees and rooting from the moist forest floor. I heard there were a few remaining deer and a lot of birds in different species. I heard too of gold being mined once upon a time but the people had to make the effort to stop it lest it would drive everybody crazy.

Mining these hilltop village would crumble the mountain and the surrounding villages down below would sustain irreparable damages should this happen. To this day, the mining equipments and the once upon a time mill stays a relic, a reminder to everybody that life is more important than a few years of fame and fortune. The main attraction of this place though are the hot springs. From the topmost hill are located the biggest geysers. They are situated along the river line that flows down below. The hilltop is of limestone, a combination of dark and yellowish to almost white consistency. And like an amateur explorer I conclude that this place must have been covered with water eons ago. For the rocks were embedded with fossilized shells.

That perhaps the ocean once owned these territories and gradually dried up in time. Or that through time with the movement of the earth and the rocks down below, the water subsided and went other ways. These cracks and fissures created by the tectonic movements of the earth made way for other minerals to seep through, channeling forces like these sulphuric emissions to come about in Mainit. People here talk of the time Mount Pinatubo erupted and a little amount of dark, foul gas spewed from these crevices and water fountains. So maybe they are all interconnected, the force so great that it reached all the way up to this remote, quiet village. So much wonder in this place, so much mystery. So much untapped beauty that sometimes I agree with the people here that some things are better left untouched.

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CICM centennial celebration in Bontoc
GLO A. TUAZON

BONTOC, Mountain Province --It was a hundred years ago when Christianism first came to the land of the Igorots. A group of mostly Belgian together with a few Dutch priests came to the Mountain Provinces and grown roots here. It was Valentines day in 1906 when the apostolic delegate to the Philippines Msgr. Ambrosius Agius sent a letter of request to Father Adolf Van Hecke who was then the Superior General of the CICM congregation. The Spanish friars who were previously heading the Christian communitites left after the war when the Spaniards were defeated by the Americans and the natives were left without pastoral guides. Aguis appealed to have some missionaries sent in place of the friars. After the conference and consultations with authorities, Pope Pius X gave his blessings to the endeavor.

This new Apostolic Vicariate of Bontoc-Lagawe is part of the three vicariates originally created on July 6, 1992 along with that of Baguio and Tabuk, and covers all 10 municipalities of the Mountain Provinces and 11 of Ifugao as well. It is important to note also that the vicariate has spread out 13 stations throughout the coverage area of the 2 provinces to be able to reach out to the parishioners. The vicariate seat however remains in Teng-ab, Bontoc.

So Dec. 12-15, the CICM of Bontoc-Lagawe celebrated its 100th year in existence up north and going by the theme "Remembering, Rerooting, Revitalizing". They are now "Looking back with pride and gratitude, and forging ahead with faith and confidence." The culminating activity was held at the Sta. Rita Cathedral in Poblacion, Bontoc and was well attended. Dec. 13, was the day slated for the street parade and the participating Catholic schools strutted along the humid streets of Bontoc to do their stuff after which they proceeded to the grounds of Sta. Rita Cathedral and the Municipal Plaza for the cultural dance competition.

An exhibit was opened at the Bontoc museum to show the "evolution" of the CICM body throughout the years. The evening would not have been complete without the play and mini concert led by Fr. Marcial Castaneda together with the SMU Bayombong chorale group. The Belgian consul to the Philippines Rene Peeters and his wife graced the events along with Gov. Maximo Dalog and the local officials of Bontoc and the personalities of the Catholic churches from the two provinces. On the evening of Dec. 14, the Apostolic Nuncio Most Rev. Arch. Edward Joseph Adams arrived to help unveil and bless the bust and memorial stones of Fr. Jules Sepulchre. All done with the activities, Bontoc once again rested a day to welcome the upcoming Provincial meet set Dec. 16-20.

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Healing sagging Christmas spirits
GLO A. TUAZON

It was a week ago that a merger of Filipino and Singaporean Christians met to do a mission. It was not unusual but then again it does not happen often. It was a medical-dental-gift giving-prayer mission -- the first two to cleanse the body, the third to cheer the innocent spirits and the fourth to renew the soul.

Five doctors and 21 church members of the BEDOK Methodist Church based in Singapore came over and brought their hearts with them together with medicines, toys, shirts and other goodies. Waiting to meet them were pastors and members of the Good News community of Churches in Baguio City who organized the events.

Volunteer doctors and dentists offered their time and services, so did the clinical instructors and graduating nursing students of Pines City College of Nursing. So with the permission and help of the LGUs and barangay officials from the recipient areas, the project pushed through.

Before them were four destinations they chose to be among the recipients areas. Last Dec. 5, the group trooped like an invading army to Tuel in the municipality of Tublay, Benguet. They were met by a large crowd and were able to accommodate more than 300 patients given the limited time.

The next day was given to Happy Hallow and Upper Dagsian Barangays in Baguio. Combined, the two barangays counted to almost the same number as in Tuel also. December 7 being the last day was dedicated to Monterazzas, Tuding in Itogon, spending half a day to serve more than a hundred people.

During their courtesy call to Mayor Reinaldo Bautista Jr., the Singaporean team was warmly welcomed and presented with the symbolic key of Baguio City. Then wholeheartedly thanked for the services they offered to all the recipient areas. The team even promised a donation of ovaltine, milk and art stuffs and crayons for needy children. According to Baguio City Councilor Isabelo "Popo" Cosalan, who happens to be an associate pastor in The Good News
Community Church, these items are held at the customs office for some reasons.

And a certificate from DSWD, a clearance from Dep-Ed (for the educational materials) and clearances from BFAD (for the ovaltine and milk) are needed for these items to be released. Cosalan hopes these items be released and distributed to needy recipients before Christmas.
How often do we share our hearts? Or our time to do little services like these? It is almost Christmas though we cannot seem to feel it these days with hard times up ahead. Let it be Christmas everyday, little services, a second of our time, a turning of the heart would greatly warm an aching person.

Note: For comments on this article or any interest to help please contact this author at 09175064115 or email at twilight_glo@yahoo.com.

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Healing sagging Christmas spirits
GLO A. TUAZON

It was a week ago that a merger of Filipino and Singaporean Christians met to do a mission. It was not unusual but then again it does not happen often. It was a medical-dental-gift giving-prayer mission -- the first two to cleanse the body, the third to cheer the innocent spirits and the fourth to renew the soul.

Five doctors and 21 church members of the BEDOK Methodist Church based in Singapore came over and brought their hearts with them together with medicines, toys, shirts and other goodies. Waiting to meet them were pastors and members of the Good News community of Churches in Baguio City who organized the events.

Volunteer doctors and dentists offered their time and services, so did the clinical instructors and graduating nursing students of Pines City College of Nursing. So with the permission and help of the LGUs and barangay officials from the recipient areas, the project pushed through.

Before them were four destinations they chose to be among the recipients areas. Last Dec. 5, the group trooped like an invading army to Tuel in the municipality of Tublay, Benguet. They were met by a large crowd and were able to accommodate more than 300 patients given the limited time.

The next day was given to Happy Hallow and Upper Dagsian Barangays in Baguio. Combined, the two barangays counted to almost the same number as in Tuel also. December 7 being the last day was dedicated to Monterazzas, Tuding in Itogon, spending half a day to serve more than a hundred people.

During their courtesy call to Mayor Reinaldo Bautista Jr., the Singaporean team was warmly welcomed and presented with the symbolic key of Baguio City. Then wholeheartedly thanked for the services they offered to all the recipient areas. The team even promised a donation of ovaltine, milk and art stuffs and crayons for needy children. According to Baguio City Councilor Isabelo "Popo" Cosalan, who happens to be an associate pastor in The Good News Community Church, these items are held at the customs office for some reasons.

And a certificate from DSWD, a clearance from Dep-Ed (for the educational materials) and clearances from BFAD (for the ovaltine and milk) are needed for these items to be released. Cosalan hopes these items be released and distributed to needy recipients before Christmas.
How often do we share our hearts? Or our time to do little services like these? It is almost Christmas though we cannot seem to feel it these days with hard times up ahead. Let it be Christmas everyday, little services, a second of our time, a turning of the heart would greatly warm an aching person.

Note: For comments on this article or any interest to help please contact this author at 09175064115 or email at twilight_glo@yahoo.com.

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Pitching In
JOHANN DACAWI
(Johann is the son of Ramon Dacawi who is now based in Italy. – ed)

Our formula for a perfect Sunday We don't own a car. I haven't got a driver’s license so I don't drive. I remember two years back, before Lukie took the yellow school bus, he asked me why we didn't have wheels. We used a run down bicycle with a kiddy chair at the back while the other kids were driven to school in their parents' cars.

Nevertheless, I am very proud to declare that I am the president of our growing Ferrari fans club here in Italy. We gather every Grand Prix Sunday of Formula One to watch, enjoy, celebrate or console each other if we lose. Club members include a lovely housewife. A five year old boy who, by the age of three, could tell you all the names of the drivers and their nationalities, the teams and their sponsors and all the names of the circuits and their flags. The newest member, a very promising tot, is nine-month old Dylan James. Did I already mention our club is growing?

This Grand Prix season was one of the greatest in the history of Formula One. Rookie Hamilton and the Spy story dominated the headlines. Last Sunday, at the track called Interlagos in Sao Paolo, Brazil, the deciding final race of the season, Ferrari drove a perfect race!

While all the cars were running behind the safety car for the warm up lap, my wife handed over Dylan, who was in a sling, to me. I gently placed him on my back as the cars were now taking their respective places on the grid. On pole was Massa, followed by Hamilton, on the second row were Raikonen and Alonso, and the rest behind them.

There was a knock on the door. It was my sister-in-law Danica, a prospective recruit, and she was just on time. Ica entered the kitchen to help her sister, who was cooking pansit, because later we would celebrate. Everybody was nervous, all eyes were on the TV and asthe red lights went off. . . . ‘twas go go go!

The red cars made a very good start, Massa held his position while his teammate quickly drove to second place.The F1 world forgot Hamilton was a rookie and as a rookie he makes mistakes. On the forth turn he went wide trying to pass team mate Alonso.

Later on, his car would develop a technical problem and placed him last in the standings. Being a Ferraristi, I felt sorry for him. I punched my right fist onto the air and shouted "SI!". A fan member’s finger pushed the back of my head. Noticing it was Lovelyn, I gave her aquestion mark look. She pointed at my back. I didn't know the youngest fan club member had fallen asleep.

Before the cars went in for their first pit stop, the excitement in the living room had not changed. As I was nervously watching, Lovelyn and Danica were seated at the table catching up with their gossip and Lukie found a small ball and started to play football on his own. Lovelyn remembered something important she forgot to do - give Lukie a hair cut. I thought this was a great idea, because I could watch without a ball hitting me and Lukie blocking my view. As Raikonen recorded the fastest lap, someone was pulling my hair!

The baby woke up and wanted to watch. I took him out of the marsupial and placed him on my lap. His eyes were on the two red cars on the TV. At the other corner of the room, a mother and son were arguing. My wife, while snipping away hair, was reminding his young client to stop moving.

I had to put down Dylan when the race was on its half way mark. He started wriggling and threatened to cry when he saw a plastic golf club he wanted to chew on the floor. When I placed him down he grabbed onto my knee for support. After bracing himself, he started to walk. From my estimate, Dylan walked a full seven steps to reach the toy before he fell on his bum. What a marvelous feat! Yet no one congratulated this poor baby for a job well done.

At lap 57, Hamilton was catching up fast. He only needed to finish fifth to become the youngest world champ ever. I was praying Hamilton's car would malfunction again when Lukie started to cry. He was complaining that his haircut was taking up too much of his time, while his mother was now angrily reminding him to sit still. Danica on the other hand was watching us in amazement.

Massa just got out the pit again and Raikonen was ordered to run for 3 more laps before coming in for fuel and tires. When Raikonen was back onto the race track he took the lead.

With ten laps to go, Raikonen was first, followed by Massa then Alonso. Hamilton was at 7th but aggressively targeting 5th place. My son's ordeal was over. He was smiling because hefelt handsome. Without a direct order from my wife, I ran to get the vacuum cleaner and started to take the hair off the floor. When I finished cleaning, Raikonen took the checkered flag and Ferrari won! Only one point singled out Kimi from Hamilton and Alonso, who both had 109 points.

I muted the TV while they were celebrating and spraying the champagne. Everyone was hungry. We were all seated at the table, the pansit was there and tropical juice. After we said grace, we started to eat. Everybody was happy

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Remembering the dead of the highlands
GLO A. TUAZON

Nov. 1 and 2, All saints' and All Souls' Day respectively are holidays, in remembrance of the souls that went ahead. During these days, everyone has time to visit and pay respect to their dear departed.

Tombs are cleaned, tombstones fixed and letterings repainted, flowers displayed, candles lighted and food offered to the spirits beyond. This was a tradition we learned from our Spanish conquerors and this was the way it has always been during the soul festival in the Philippines and to date is still observed.

In the highlands, the land where the conquistadores never conquered, they have their own tradition and culture concerning burial practices. In Sagada, the hanging coffins dotting the limestone cliffs are a usual sight.

Almost everywhere along the mountainsides, one cannot miss but see one of them straddling the pale limestone facade. The family of the dead go about the difficult task of roping and dangling the caskets from way above, making sure it stays suspended and secure supported by pegs stuck into the hard rock.

Aside from this tradition there is the big community burial cave where caskets are stacked atop each other. And from the casket size and the style it was built, you can decipher which are the old and the much newer ones. Not setting aside religion, along the trails at the back of St. Mary's Church is also located the Christian burial ground.

As customary in the land of Benguet, more and more caves are now being discovered to contain bones, numbering to a few heads or a hundred thus creating the theory that they may be a family, a clan or a community. Kapangan has a lot of those.

Also recently discovered between their boundary with Kibungan were the remains of a few mummies. The tradition of mummification we once believed was practiced only by the Ibaloi tribes of Kabayan.

Mummification is the process of dehydrating the remains by using salt and herbs and "smoking" them until all body fluids are removed. This is a very long process as it takes about two years to complete. The end result is a perfectly preserved body that would last a long time if not exposed to so much moisture and heat.

Further up north in Sadanga, and Bontoc towns in Mountain Province they also have their own burial practices. In the olden times they made the "death chair" or the "sangadil."

The dead is cleaned and clothed and made to sit on a chair-like contraption, like he was part of the living. After a few days when the wake comes to an end, the remains are either put on a log coffin or buried in the family niche depending on his status.

For all of these highland burial cultures, the tribal traditional rites are performed before the body is laid to rest. Livestocks are slaughtered and the people who attended the wake and the funeral are fed.

These days however, with modernization and faith influencing the mass, less and less people are following the traditional practice and doing it the easier, simpler way. But however a person may have died or buried, he will always be remembered one way or the other with flowers, candles and prayers by the living.