TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo Abaeo Tuazon
Timeless valley of echoes

SAGADA, Mountain Province -- The bus dropped me off one dusty day in the middle of this called Sagada. For some reasons, there weren't much people today. One sitting idly beside the giant bell at the entrance to Saint Mary's Church and one sleepy vendor nodding in the afternoon heat, her head almost touching the crate of oranges in front of her. A stray dog came by, sniffing at me awhile and decided I wasn't interesting enough and left. I lifter my pack and started up the stairs to the St. Joseph Lodging House.

Sagada doesn't know me but I come here often enough to escape from the pressures of work and constant body aches, caused by life's wear and tear. Sagada has always had some effect on me, I could stay in my hotel room all day and still feel the whole town in my system. I come here invited or uninvited and wouldn't care if it makes a difference or not. The thing is, I love the place.

I have taken to the trails, enjoyed the hike through mountain passes crossing the graveyard down to the timeless echo valley. Have hollered to nonexistent friends from the height and heard it come back to me, pretending someone was on the other side calling my name. Have gone down to strain my neck looking up to the hanging coffins and wondering how they were put there in the first place, or who started the tradition and everyone else followed.

Did they call it a fad back then? Or simply for a reason that the dieties have required? A culture much unlike anyone's? One that fascinated me and fascinates me to this day. The limestone walls that created the facade my guide told me was what reverberates the sounds back throughout the valley. Looking up on gorges at sundown the silhouettes creates images of gargoyles eyeing everyone who happen to come by.

Pass through underground rivers sandwiched between the ridges of deep gorges and mountains and see the marks of ages etched on the limestone walls. How the flow of the water created patterns of art on the river floor, the sediments a varied hue of browns and yellows and ochres. I loved these walks, especially when the leaves are the colors of autumn. To end up sweaty and content with a bowlful of yoghurt and a quarter of chicken done in a manner I can't explain to this day.

Sagada has its shares of caves too. Grand old caves with narrow to huge chambers. The big cave took us to an intricate maze of winding passages, some i had to crawl through. I was once "lost" here. We came to the part where the icy water trickled to a pool almost swallowing me, reaching to my chin. I never quite figures out what got me there but I spent a night sleepless after that.

There seemed to be a voice calling to me, luring me back there. That was almost two years ago, i came back to find my voice. The caving was uneventful though and the sun greeted us back out from where we started.

Sagada is one place I like to walk through leisurely. A sight everywhere I go. An interesting tale every now and then. A casual hello once in awhile from strangers and a cup or two of knowledge gathered every time I come around. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo Abaeo Tuazon
Call of the wild

KABAYAN, Benguet -- I often wonder what drives a person to do the things he does, just as some wonder about the reasons why people climb mountains. It is often said that people climb mountains simply because they are there. But for those whose spirits soar above the clouds, the mountains spell freedom -- sweet liberty from the bondage and boredom of everyday life.

Mt. Pulag called and beckoned. Like a soul drifting too long in the smog-covered urban maze I was glad to turn back and walk away awhile, to an upland arena where the wind talks and earth breaths. The feet tires after awhile, but the mind walks on up there.

The feeling that you own everything as far as the eyes could see. Lying down on the warm grass letting the Heavens move above me, forming apparitions of ancestors gone ahead, their hair flying in the wind, looking down on us, reaching out a hand or both, if only they could.

I envy the people who live in and close to places like these. I envy the people of Kabayan who were gifted with a playground to run around in. A playground of gods they say, I would not argue. In my mind I toy with the idea that maybe it really is. For how come that when the sunset arrives the mountains almost seem to be on fire?

The reds and oranges mixing, bathing the horizon then flowing down in a burst to flood the valleys below it. And yes, the clouds too. They form a pillow of intense white, right there just above the ridges of the mountains that it seemed you could touch it if you stretch your arms long enough.

How do I describe this place? Beautiful? The word isn't good enough. God must have kept it from us, because if we knew the term, we may never comprehend the intensity of it. If I thought the mountain has life, I knew I'm not wrong. It breathes. And it cries too.

It has always been a giver. From the moment sunrise touches its bald head the beauty and comfort it shares are incomparable, it soothes the aches of people longing for peace and serenity. It is a giver. It bleeds itself to give us water, water that sustains life. It will always be a giver.

It gave some people part of its body to live in and till it for awhile. But people are not content. They want its soul too. Moving up like armies, slowly killing it with picks and hoes and treating it with acids. The mountains sobbed silently. It will always be a giver. Still the killing continues, scarred now and bleeding raw. It cries.... email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo Abaeo Tuazon
The scent that heals

KABAYAN, Benguet -- Up in the chilly locale of Kabayan wafts a smell that caught me, flaring my nostrils like a horse testing the air on a windy day. The aroma was so distinct that the thought of rolling lemons entered my mind. I looked around and about but never asked anyway, just that lemons occupied my thoughts for the rest of the day. Then I totally forgot about it.

The next time I went to Kabayan a good lady gave me a gift. Just a tiny bottle with aromatic oil in it she says, good to massage tired muscles with at the end of the day. She asked me to open it and smell the oil, told me that even the scent could invigorate, so I did. And it was like déjà vu, the thought of rolling lemons came back. Sweet, tangy, yellow lemons rolling in slow motion coming to splash on icy cold water.

Then my thoughts were rudely cut off by her last word, this thing, this cool, aromatic concoction was not of lemons but of grass. Grass? I asked. Yup, grass, lemongrass in particular. Green grass resembling cogon but shorter in blade span. How could grass get to smell like lemons? But it does. With no knowledge up my sleeve to back a futile discussion, I decided to research on it instead.

Lemongrass is a grass specie, a perennial and fast growing aromatic grass that has thin, long leaves extending to about 2 feet or more. It was originally cultivated in India and known there as “choomana poolu” and is usually used as medicine to help bring down high fevers and as treatment to some infectious illnesses. As it is the lemony scent is often used in perfumes and soaps and a very effective insect repellent too.

It is also most often brewed in the Cordilleras as a tea beverage. Through experiments and tests, lemongrass oil is proven to be a great body revitalizer. It soothes most kinds of headaches too as it helps ease tensions. The oil mixed with the more solid virgin coconut oil is a good massage tonic, giving energy back to the muscles especially while recuperating from an illness. In matters of personal aesthetics, this oil is often used to clear up rather oily skin and acne growth as well as a help to cure athlete’s foot by correcting excessive perspiration. So much more uses are attributed to this lowly plant.

With all that in mind I came back to Kabayan. They led me downstairs to a backyard, makeshift laboratory cum factory. Waiting to explain is the fidgety, youngish barangay official with a ready smile, ready to pounce a joke or two whenever he gets the chance. So his name is Albert Paday Jr., and he started prattling how a bunch or should I say a mountain of those grass come about to produce a few drops of precious oil.

There in front of us is a humungous stainless steel tank called an extractor, tightly sealed on top with a handle like a steering wheel. The tank was elevated to allow firewood to be pushed in under it, in turn to cook the “grass” with a tank full of water. It goes on to simmer in that pressurized container for about two hours or more in about 180 degrees celsius before the steam moves on to a smaller tank resembling a space capsule called the “condenser”, to produce the droplets of saturated, precious oil.

From below at almost the bottom line of the tank protrudes a spout. It brings out the hot water that was first put in as coolant for condensing the steam. It is from these condensed steam that the oil travels then down to a collecting pail called a”separator”. From here one can watch the oil separate from the water by staying above it, as water is denser than oil and never mix. Each flows into separate containers. And so the birth of the lemongrass oil.

Lemongrass oil production is an industry that requires hard work. Before one can even get an ounce of it, a hundred or more kilos of the grass has to be processed. Paday explained that in their production experience, the east Indian type or the citronella produces lesser than the west Indian or native kind. The production process does not happen often as they have to wait also for the collection of grass sold to them by the suppliers and growers. In Kabayan, the residents are encouraged to grow the grass and sold to this outfit, each one helping each other, providing a little income generation to sustain their usual industry. To date, a few hectares of land adjacent to the Tinongchol burial rock are planted with the aromatic grass, giving people a whiff of life whenever passing by the route.

With hopes that this may someday grow to become a continuing industry, the task was undertaken as a pilot project of the Kabayan Women’s and farmers’ Development Association, Inc. They ventured in this in partnership with U Lagi and Grassroots Development Association and is being promoted by the local government of Kabayan.

Albert explained that it was a Japanese friend of the business owner who first introduced them to the idea, that a lot can be done with it with patience. The owners started out with some capital and hopes to improve their technical know how and facilities in the long run. So with a lot of patience, perseverance and “grass,” this venture could go a long way. Email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo Abaeo Tuazon
Hidden crypts of Kapangan

KAPANGAN, Benguet -- Traveling to Kapangan, Benguet from Baguio has always been a breeze to me, it being one and a half hour drive only. I do not have to mind the rocky roads anymore knowing my purpose was way more interesting than the bumps I get from traveling there.

Besides the roads are now being developed all the way from the entrance of Kapangan to Kibungan. That would make travel a lot easier and enjoyable in a few years or so...I hope. Because aside from these caves that I have seen, there are so much more beautiful reasons in Kapangan to come back to -- beautiful and unexplored places to set foot on and admire.

Kapangan is dotted with caves. Natural caves, shallow manmade caves, burial caves, and bat caves. So rich in history is Kapangan that some of its caves were even used by cavalry soldiers during the Second World War as hiding places.

Take the case of the twin caves of Bolinsak located at Bolalakaw. Inside the caverns of these caves were niches that became the meeting place of Majors Bado Dangwa and Dennis Molintas who led the infantry that defeated the Japanese Imperial Army, and which in turn led to the opening of the north for the allied forces to reclaim the region. But these caves are the easier to have access to today, located just below the road in Taba-ao.

The other caves that I call crypts are much more difficult to reach. Crypts because they are used for burial purposes. It is well known, especially in Kabayan, Benguet that the tribes here, more of the Ibalois mummify their dead and set them in holes along the mountains for eternity. But it was indeed a surprise to me when I was led to a cave containing mummies in Kapangan, bringing me to a conclusion that maybe the whole of Benguet indeed practice mummification long ago.

So we went all the way to this mountain joining Kapangan and Kibungan and ended up in Tawang. After something like half a day of continous hiking and seven mountains behind, a few small rivers and open fields, not to mention the eager hosts of leeches jumping us along the way, getting into even the tightest bound pant linings and socks.

The fatigue and trauma (remember the leeches?) was rewarded with this almost impossible feat of rock climbing we have to do with bare hand and no climbing gears to scale the sheer rock face just to see a couple of mummies resting there. There were two caverns, shallow ones.

The bigger one contained the mummies and a few bones and skulls. The mummies, sad to say were supposed to be magnificent but had decomposed to some extent during the time they were taken out of their niche by robbers.

They were however returned when according to stories two of the robbers fell ill and died, so the third one had to do the embarrassing and dirty work of returning them. The hike back to civilization was a blur, rain-mud-and-blood splattered (again from the leeches) we arrived back in Central Kapangan an hour close to midnight.

Then there is this place they call Dumanay Cave in Pungayan. I thought It would be easier this time than Tawang, and it is, just an eeny bit. Just about a few big mountains and orchards and rice fields along the way. But I was glad there were no leeches this time, at least I thought there wasn't any.

Passing by an almost hidden house in the forest we stopped to ask permission from the occupants. Mr. Sweeney they call him, a descendant of the "Soldier of Fortune" who lost his way and found this place. This is an interesting tale. Mr. Russel Dugen, a foreigner from a faraway land who was shipwrecked somewhere in La Union in the olden days.

With nowhere to go, he hiked, sustaining himself with whatever food he could get from the forest until he came to Kapangan through Bagulin. He befriended some ladies and later on married one of them, and the family multiplied to become the clans of kapangan. His bones are packed in a heavy, solid pine coffin, carved and designed like a water buffalo (carabao). With his coffin are some other smaller ones and more than a hundred skulls and skeletal remains, signs that this cave became a community burial site.

Another interesting site is found in Barangay Central, Kapangan. We hiked about an hour to this river they call Kilong on a warm, sunshiny day. No leeches here so it was a really pleasant walk. Tugging along our camera gears we had to scratch our way up to this sandy facade of a mountain.

I could still make out the outlines of coffins that used to line the upper edge of the crumbling mountain. Today, only a few remains of the many. Erosion during typhoons had washed most of the hanging coffins they say, the others disappeared into the river by one circumstance that the locals would not want to be told to the public.

And then lately, in the uplands of Sagubo was found another crypt. Puga Cave they call it, hidden behind and underneath a boulder and overlooking other mountains bounding Benguet and the Ilocos Province. The two hour walk to this place is a relaxing breath of fresh air, beautiful panoramas and fields of wild flowers. I couldn't help but stop now and then to take in the view before we arrived to a show of snow white bones piled neatly under the rocks. About 60 or more and a couple of wooden coffins too.

What is interesting is the fact that as we go around, we come to find more of these. Fascination and respect for the culture and traditions of the old, remembering how the locals go thru the difficult but endearing practices of giving their loved ones the burial they deserve. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo Abaeo Tuazon
The highlands of Sacasacan

SADANGA, Mountain Province -- Sacasacan. A weird name for a beautiful place. Located above the other barangays of Sadanga, this place overlooks most of the mountains that surrounds the municipality. From the crest to the west way before sundown, the mist shrouds most of the valleys, transforming it into a mystical place where legends live. At sunset, it becomes a glorious fusion of deep orange and reds.

Sacasacan is the oldest village in the area. It was where the ascendants of the townspeople of Sadanga originated from. According to the old lores, it was because of a pig wandering away from their homestead that the owners strayed further away in search of it and discovered that the place down below is more accessible and had more flatlands for agriculture. Sacasacan for a time stayed the capital village of the municipality until it was changed and passed on to Sadanga Poblacion.

Being in the uplands, the strategic view gave it advantage which was well beneficial to the Americans in the early 1900's after they took over the Spanish forces. They constructed a garrison and a lookout point on a ledge overlooking the possible routes of incoming enemy forces.

To this day, the lookout stayed where it was, reconstructed a few times and turned to concrete, serving more as a view deck in these days of peace. There also stands a few meters away a chapel of old GI sheets, the roof painted in a dull red more for weather protection rather than for aesthetics. I was told this used to house the American soldiers, then turned into a temporary school building, now a chapel. Even the rusty old bell hanging at a corner near the doorway tells a story. It hangs there in a disfigured way, like a reminders of the village's past wounds and triumphs.

Taking a walk a little bit on the northern slope is an amazing view of the Fokong Rice Terraces. A whole valley encamped between the mountains. Like a bowl of rice where sustenance could be had, it lies there like a gaping maw, filled to the brim with the crop of the season. The overpowering greens of the newly planted rice reaching for the skies above it.

The paddies were like gentle waves of water interlapping each other in an almost subtle way, not abrupt or crude. Up close the sides were neatly stoned walled, one craft the people here are proud of. The stones piled atop each other, in perfect fit that it almost seem the stones were "born" for each other.

Here and there the womenfolk work the land from sunrise to sundown, tending to the crops with gentle calloused hands. When the sun dips below the horizon, they know it is time to straighten up and head home, often teasing each other along the way. In this place the teasing goes on, normal to sarcastic in a way but still acceptable to them. They go home to their families and the next day the routine goes on. Life here in the uplands go as simple as it could, but they find happiness in the little things, the best way they know how.

Morning kissed me with the crowing of the cocks and life coming about the village. People doing the chores, pots clanging and smoke puffing out of makeshift chimneys. The pigs were fed, the kids sent running to school in their slippers, the house closed and again the cycle of life begins.

There is so much here to see. Maybe unlike the spires and skyscrapers of modern cities, but these are real people, clinging to the comfort of the throbbing heartland, passed on as legacies of family lineage from generation to generation.The smile of the toothless old man and the tiny old lady manually separating the grains from the chaffs made me stop awhile. These were people of the uplands where my father came from, my people. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A. Tuazon
A tribute to Filipino ingenuity

BANAUE, Ifugao -- A tribute to Filipino ingenuity. This is the theme of the first ever formal wooden scooter race staged apart from other festivities or events in Banaue, Ifugao. In the past it was an integral activity of the annual Banaue Imbayah, something that wowed and fascinated the crowd. In April of 2008 however, these group of men fabricating the wooden scooters and joining races decided to form a group and called it Banaue Rice Terraces Wooden Scooter Organization, headed by their president Vicente Dinundon Jr., a 2006 graduate of BS Agriculture of Benguet State University. Now 25, he is back home in Banaue to live and continue the tradition of home-based business and "scootering."

The story of the wooden scooter was well a tale on its own too. These mobile contraptions were once created to serve a need. Menfolk were having a difficult time going to and from their homes to their muyongs up the mountains, often bringing home firewood and crops tended p there.

It would often take them hours to walk the distance and carry the loads. Then was the birth of the first scooter. They would push it up the hills and work the day. Firewood would be strapped along both sides of the scooter and other goods tied at the back portion. The ride back home would then be a breeze.

These scooters are fashioned out of wood, minimizing the use of nails. Through time the simple device to ferry firewood and tubers soon became art – the designs and styles becoming more intricate and complicated. Like the swirling horses on a carnival carousel, today's scooters came in a wonderful array of different designs - horses, tigers, Indian heads, eagles, bululs, anything that catches the fancy of its creator, and most often the birthing of one creation comes with a story. That makes it the more interesting and valuable.

The forming of the Banaue Rice Terraces Wooden Scooters Organization (BRTWSO) started with a concept of showcasing their art. They made a proposition to have their club be registered with SEC that they may also use it for livelihood.

With the help of PTA (Philippine Tourism Authority), the first staging of the independent scooter race happened in a two-day activity, to boost the practice. The activity went well after two postponements and they hope it will survive the times. For now what they need is a "viewdeck", to serve as a showroom of scooters where they can manufacture, assemble and show off their pieces.

They are on the process of wooing good hearted sponsors to help them on this cause, one of which is former governor Mark Lapid of Pampanga. Vincent Dinundon fashioned and extraordinary scooter out of hardwood, with a mohawk head in front just above the handlebars. The scooter body is a horse, the mane flying in the wind, all this coated in handsome black and valued at more than P25,000.

This was finished in two and a half months, based on a story and Ifugao culture. He named it Bangkiki. The story Dinundon said is a secret for now that even to this author remains a mystery. This made it more valuable and harder to part with. But he must. This he sold to Lapid for P8,000 with the hope of being granted the favor of having the viewdeck or the club. The P8,000 he used to pay PTA for the registration fee of P300 for each of the 17 racers because with hard life, even this amount is hard to come by. With this they raced with will and hopes.

The just concluded race showed the world the ingenuity of these simple people, an art borne out of tradition and necessity to continue and blossom as a valuable art and livelihood. Ifugao is living to its name as a land of wood carvers and sculptors, making masterpieces of imaginative and soulful arts.

Where in the world have you seen wooden scooters race downroad at an average speed of 40 kph, the almost 7 km span conquered in a record time of 7 minutes and 11 seconds? Only in Ifugao, in the gloryland of Banaue. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A. Tuazon
A tribute to Filipino ingenuity

BANAUE, Ifugao -- A tribute to Filipino ingenuity. This is the theme of the first ever formal wooden scooter race staged apart from other festivities or events in Banaue, Ifugao.

In the past it was an integral activity of the annual Banaue Imbayah, something that wowed and fascinated the crowd. In April of 2008 however, this group of men fabricating the wooden scooters and joining races decided to form a group and called it Banaue Rice Terraces Wooden Scooter Org., headed by their president Vicente Dinundon Jr., a 2006 graduate of BS Agriculture of Benguet State University. Now 25 years old, he is back home in Banaue to live and continue the tradition of home-based business and "scootering."

The story of the wooden scooter was well a tale on its own too. These mobile contraptions were once created to serve a need. Menfolk were having a difficult time going to and from their homes to their muyongs up the mountains, often bringing home firewood and crops tended up there.

It would often take them hours to walk the distance and carry the load. Then was the birth of the first scooter. They would push it up the hills and work the day. Firewood would be strapped along both sides of the scooter and other goods tied at the back portion. The ride back home would then be a breeze.

These scooters are fashioned out of wood, minimizing the use of nails. Through time the simple device to ferry firewood and tubers soon became art, the designs and styles becoming more intricate and complicated.

Like the swirling horses on a carnival carousel, today's scooters came in a wonderful array of different designs - horses, tigers, indian heads, eagles, bululs, anything that catches the fancy of its creator, and most often the birthing of one creation comes with a story. That makes it the more interesting and valuable.

The forming of the BRTWSO was armed with a concept of showcasing their art. They made a proposition to have heir club registered with Securities and Exchange Commission that they may also use it for livelihood.

With the help of the Philippine Tourism Authority, the first staging of the independent scooter race happened in a two-day activity, to boost the practice. The activity went well after two postponements and they hope it will survive the times.

For now what they need is a viewdeck, to serve as a showroom of scooters where they can manufacture, assemble and show off their pieces. They are on the process of wooing good hearted sponsors to help them on this cause, one of which is Gov. Mark Lapid, the incumbent governor of Pampanga.

Vincent Dinundon fashioned an extraordinary scooter out of hardwood, with a mohawk head in front just above the handlebars. The scooter body is a horse, the mane flying in the wind, all this coated in handsome black and valued at more than P25,000. This was finished in two and a half months.

He named it Bangkiki . The story Dinundon said is a secret for now that even to this author remains a mystery. This made it more valuable and harder to part with. But he must. Thus he humbly sold it to Gov. Mark Lapid for P8,000 with the hope of being granted the favor of having the viewdeck dream for the club. The P8,000 he used to pay PTA for the registration fee of P300 for each of the 17 racers because with hard life, even this amount is hard to come by. With this they raced with will and hopes.

The just concluded race showed the world the ingenuity of these simple people, an art borne out of tradition and necessity to continue and blossom as a valuable art and livelihood. Ifugao is living to its name as a land of wood carvers and sculptors, making masterpieces of imaginative and soulful arts.

Where in the world have you seen wooden scooters race down the road at an average speed of 40 kph with the almost 7 km span conquered in a record time of seven minutes and 11 seconds? Only in Ifugao, in the glory land of Banaue. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A. Tuazon
Am-among fever and Gen. Martin

BONTOC, Mountain Province -- In the olden tradition of celebrating the different stages of rice cycle comes a phase called am-among wherein families gather and join other clan members to share the bounty of their labor. In the yearly non-stop circle of activities and work, they set aside a time to rest, settle down a bit and just mingle and enjoy the company of family while thanking the Giver for everything that has come and gone during the season.

While into the process of picking an appropriate title and occasion to use and adapt as a municipal yearly festival, the idea of am-among was chosen. The town was not mistaken, the concept was well accepted. In Mayor Franklin Odsey describes the festival a "living tradition that catapults the family as a vehicle for social change and local governance where the members are responsible, happy, cooperative and united for a progressive municipality, and where the officialdom from top down to the barangay level work hand in hand with the people in pursuit of their vision."

Now on its fifth year, and coinciding with the 100th year founding anniversary of Bontoc as a town, the festival continues to lure visitors. In the recently concluded activity, the first few days from its opening was dampened by occasional drizzles and rain, not to count also the non-participation of upland barangays in the agro-industrial trade fair for reasons of lack of transport.

This was an unfortunate event even to these barangays even as they wanted so much to participate and sell their wares when commuter vehicle owners and drivers plying the route chose the date to stage a protest for fare increase. The upland barangays affected were Guinaang, Mainit, Maligcong and Dalican. These unfortunate events were however overshadowed by the better side of everything during the next days to its conclusion. The volleyball games were a hit, well attended and cheered by the community.

Gov. Maximo B. Dalog lauded the officials and the whole Bontoc town, pushing it to its limits with burning enthusiasm and vitality. Other highlights of the festival would include the introduction of the Tawid book, a compilation of the "hundred years of Bontoc township experience", the ground demonstrations, civic parade and indigenous games and choral presentations and the much awaited street dancing and cultural presentation. The 16 barangays of Bontoc, each with its own "tradition" to interpret was a sure hit, notwithstanding the very long 15 minute time limit each were given. Guinaang went home victorious after doing the "performance of their lives".

The presence of their honored guest in the person of Chief Supt. Eugene G. Martin, the regional police director who is a true blue Bontoc boy also lifted and inspired the people, to know that this town reared a person to success. Intended as a pun, the general was once “detained” while in grade school. He was just like any other kid.

Sometimes an angel, and sometimes less so. In casual story telling, Eugene, (the kid, not the general) reminisced his younger days, frolicking under the sun of Bontoc and the waters of the Chico River. During his talk as the guest of honor, he spoke warmly of the place, first congratulating it for celebrating its 5th Am-among festival and its 100th foundation year as a town.

He spoke of the relevance of education, reason he says, why he became what he is now. Relating the funny incidence of his detention in Grade 1, Martin said it was difficult to gather children to attend school as they would rather play than study. Parents had to physically bring them to the classrooms, in which case they always found ways to escape anyhow. In vain, his mother had to talk to the police chief then to detain "Eugene" for an hour just to teach him a lesson. So lesson learned, he never needed prodding from then on.

But children are children, and the Chico River was temptation to them. In Grade 3 he was transferred to Saint Vincent School which is farther away from the river, lessening the urge to run down and go swimming at the sight of the water. At Grade 4, he was entered at All Saints Dorm and became the youngest resident there. His funny remembrances of high school continued when he went to his alma mater Mountain Province General Comprehensive High School in the afternoon of Sept. 15 to donate assorted books, an LCD projector and screen set together with his 1971 batch mates.

The donation was valued at P50,000. These items were the much needed equipments for the high school students presently enrolled there. Looking about at the computer room and feeling the heat, Martin started the teases that eventually led to another promise of aircon unit donation. Counting the many people who were born, raised and reared in Bontoc, the regional police director is one successful fruit of love and labor that this town is very proud of. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A. Tuazon
Cindewoll

NATONIN, Mountain Province -- CINDEWOLL, to mean Cordillera Indigenous Elected Women Leaders league, sounds like the ever-famous Cinderella fairytale. This group of women put on their glass slippers last Sept. 7. The founder USEC Josephine de Castro Dominguez rode on a squash-colored vehicle, led a team of about 40 people from different agencies and drove to the unlikely castle in the far away land of Natonin.

The team composed of representatives and volunteers from the PNRC-MPC, LHMRH, MPSPC, Media, PNP, AFP and the Natonin LGU overall known as the Natonin Leg Team, worked on more than 600 people on Sept. 8. Eighty five people were given dental services, surpassing the expected 50 patients. Extraction was the most common case. In the medical service, about 530 people were served, also surpassing the expected 250 people by more than half.

In between the program was the awarding of relief goods to about 50 indigent families, pre-picked for the event by their respective barangays. USEC Dominguez gave a short but meaningful talk. One of her jokes was met with a hearty applause from the men, gleefully looking over their shoulders at their wives who were mournfully seething with half-meant laughs.

The gist of Madam Josephine's advice that caused this was "for women to stand by their husbands, even if they have 2, 3 or more women because in the end these men are the umbrellas by which women lean on to."

Our teammates from the PNP and AFP were all smiles at that too. Mayor Marie Paz Banaag gave her own speech and welcome address, happy as can be because that day happened to coincide with her birthday. With the happiness also comes the remembrance of her late father. Beside her that day is her mother, the still-mourning wife of Mayor Rafael of Paracelis who was brutally murdered Christmas of 2007.

The medical-dental mission was formally opened at 8 a.m. and ended at about 8 p.m. The medicine distribution team, worked under the sparse lighting system of the covered court.

As the medical-dental mission was going on, Ms Dominguez with Mayor Banaag took the chance to conduct a meeting with all the barangay officials of Natonin. Winnie Ananayo, the administrative officer of the Bontoc Brigada System conquered the floor to share her group's experiences.

This was to goad and inspire Natonin to also form a similar group. The BBS has been under the limelight quite a few times when it was featured in newspapers and on TV for the great feats they have been doing the past years.

Ms Ananayo said her group started in 2001, making it seven years old today and has contributed a great deal to the peace and order of mostly the central business district of Bontoc.
Composed of elderly women, they converge at night and go around stalking the known night spots at about near closing time to make sure the 10 p.m. curfew is implemented. Anti-gambling is one of their known advocacies aside from the control of boozing activities. To date this has stayed a respected and successful venture, for even a solid, uncompromising drunk is not a match to any of these women.

After the meeting, the group pushed on to the nearby Immaculate Heart High School where the Philippine Red Cross and Luis Hora Memorial Hospital group conducted a free blood typing campaign. The students lined up, some of the ladies wincing at the ant-like pricking but willingly undergoing the test. This was deemed important, that the children may know their blood type in cases of medical emergencies when they needed to receive or donate blood.

After the high school blood typing event, the Natonin Leg Team moved a little further down the main road where the Natonin Elementary School was located. The children lined up their school desks outside to give a short welcome program to the NLT but the afternoon was met by an early, heavy downpour.

Like scampering ants hurrying to stack food, the children and their advisers brought down the dividing wall of two classrooms and again brought in the desks, treating the coming of the rain a blessing from Above. The program went nicely after which the feeding program ended with children receiving pre-packed snacks for the afternoon.

All things done, Cindewoll and NLT concluded this event to be very successful. It has done and exceeded what it had aimed to do in Natonin. Everybody on the team bonded as well and off they went again in that same squash-colored vehicle to another fairy tale land called Tadian. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A Tuazon
Baguio then and now

You speak of Baguio City and a picture of the Central Business District lights up in the corners of your mind. Along with Burnham Park and John Hay and Mansion House, the whole stretch of Session Road going down Harrisson- Abanao Road zoom in to define Baguio City. Throughout timBague, this side of the city has undergone major changes since the start of the modern years. Recalling what it once looked when we were kids would bring out memories of flower filled boxes everywhere.

The roads were almost free, just a few vehicles plying the famous route,and mostly of passenger jeepneys. People then were simple, opting to walk rather than own and drive cars. The word pollution was never even mentioned then or never even existed. Buildings along the uphill stretch were few, and most were only a couple of stories high, nothing much higher than that.

The loop along the post office area was a dense tree lined park where most of the veterans would sit whiling away the afternoon to chat. And believe me, there was so much time then to chat. Gather there and talk about whatnots and exchange news of children and grandchildren. Then they'd walk down in unhurried paces to go sit in their usual watering holes along Session Road.

Take the few minutes stroll to Harrison and one gets to Burnham Park. Everything I enjoyed as a child from the peeling "paper" trees to the occasional boat and bicycle rides, the children consider now as "funny and boring" pastimes. The overwhelming beauty of budding roses and marigolds and daisies along the lakesides were lasting thoughts mingling with the gleeful laughter and giggling music of children puttering around the swings and see-saws of the old Children's park.

I wonder where they all went. Then I stepped into high school and Session Road started bustling. All the way from Assumption Road we walk to CID bookstore where it was the "only" place to buy school supplies. I remember passing by Fireplace every afternoon to the crooning of "happy hour" singers, folk music from selections of early Bob Dylan, or the nasal tunes of Neil
Young to mesmerizing Cat Stevens and screechy ZZ Tops and Rolling Stones were still fad. I heard of "brownies" being hot chewable pastries then, folkhouse favorites of the baby boomer generation that we look up to as cool "manongs and manangs".

Because by then our generation was into the 80's music. High-top converse shoes were on and collars stand around necks. Baggy pants were pinned close to the ankles while we roam around John Hay all afternoon. Even without money then, we feel like dudes and babes among the clustered pine-lined walks to Scout Hill or the Half-way House. Then college days arrived. Music bars mushroomed along Harrison Road and Abanao.

There was 168, Music Box and the likes. The streets started filling up with cars and with the changing of the season and changing of authorities running the city ,additions came and went. There was the ridiculous decorative art up on Session Road that the people have taken to call the "Labo's Children", ironically naked cherubims dancing around a non-existent fountain.

Then came out a couple of horses in the middle of Abanao Street which to this day are still seen standing immobile like a stiff reminder of their creators. The cherubims were soon demolished and on the same site rose or "grew" an equally obnoxious concrete pine tree, the branches grossly ans sparsely spaced that it failed to exude the beauty they were trying to bring out in the first place. Maharlika/Marbay soon went out of style with the rising of Center Mall along "Burned Area" in Magsaysay Avenue.

For awhile the people of Baguio City were excited about it and the mall became the "it" place. That was until Cooyesan outshone Center mall. A few years back, all those glories were gone in a snap with SM dominating the skyline of Session Road. Overpasses were neatly constructed over busy roads and the panorama are disturbed every once in awhile by flyovers. The streets have become so busy these days that it seemed to match the number of people residing here. Restaurants have no spaces. McDonalds and Jollibees seem to be requirements to become cities these days too.

Breathing spaces have become commodities here that you cant have them for free no matter how much you would want to. Gone was the city of innocence that reared most of the original inhabitants of Baguio. Gone was the City of Pines that covered the heat and air conditioned this upland retreat that we once enjoyed. Gone was the city of peace that we once strolled to roost in the evenings and wait for another day. Gone was the city of comfort and hospitality that once welcomed thirsty strangers. Everything we reminisce and wanted back if only we could. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Gloria A. Tuazon
Christianizing far Sadanga

SADANGA, Mountain Province –This remote town in the uplands had often been described as synonymous to danger and risk. People thought the place had fearsome headhunters for inhabitants. Tribes here were known to have battled it out with other headhunters in Kalinga among other perceptions of what Sadanga was to those who have not been there.
Sadanga as does other municipalities and barrios in the outskirts of the capital town of Bontoc have already evolved out of that description. Their ancestors may have started out that way as headhunters but that was only because in those days, men had to protect their villages from other ravaging tribes.

It was one common denominator in the northern Cordilleras (most if not all) be it in the Mountain Province, Kalinga or Ifugao that women used to till the fields and were home workers. It is not to say the men were a lazy lot, because they are not, just that protection of the people and the properties were the men's main function but were also obliged to assist women in chores.
Of tribal war concerns, that has always been part of highland history. They went to battle for principles and causes. Sadanga is a proud lot of a people -- proud of ancestry and race but often very humble in appearance. Yet again like any other tribe, they had the elders to run their government way back.

And to put it neatly, these days they are shunning the idea of tribal wars as much as they are pushing for lasting peace and prosperity. The damage and toll it takes to fight a futile war are deemed not worth the cause or point they wanted to straighten out. And so the "fodong" (peacepact) was created. Slowly and painfully it paved the way to the peace most of these tribes are enjoying now.

Back in the early 1900’s, Belgian missionaries entered the place without thinking they may never get out of the place safe. Most of these missionaries had their hearts and lives planted there afterwards. Mother Basil Gekiere was everybody's reprieve way back and her death was given a well-attended funeral.

She was buried in a niche in Sitio Opucan overlooking the land and people she came to love and call family. Sadanga deeply mourned her passing. The other priests who also endured the grueling task of educating the townsfolk had the same well-loved treatment from the people, Fr Leon Quintelier for one.

From these foreign missionaries was sculpted the evolution of Sadanga to become the Christian community it is now. Tiny chapels were used for religious services and activities back then. Rev.Fr. Carlos Desmet even celebrated the first mass in an ator at Fateo-teo.
Ironically, because an ator was once considered the seat of local governance, where the menfolk (sans the women, women were never part of the active government organization back then) gathered to plan their stand and stance in any given situation, be it settling feuds or preparing community affairs to planning tactics for wars.

The second mass conducted was in a granary in Sitio Opog. The hostilities accorded his entrance soon turned into a welcoming embrace and then acceptance. The good priest initiated the construction of a chapel on that site. This showcased the entrance of Christianity in Sadanga.
The second chapter when "Jesus" stepped into Sadanga was in 1994, when the Vicariate saw that the people deserved to have their own parish. A priest in the person of Fr. Francis Dinacas was assigned and stationed at Poblacion.

He went hopping around the different barrios (Anabel, Betwagan, Belwang, Bekigan, Sacasacan and Saclit) once to month making sure he covers all. Cathechists and lay leaders helped out often full time.

With the succession of priests and outpouring of support from the village people, Sadanga celebrated its latest parish fiesta last August15, being the feast of Our lady of Assumption. What used to be the galvanized iron shed of a chapel is now a work of art church.

With Fr. Marcial Castaneda overseeing his flock, he also had time for arts. He sang for causes too and was able to produce CDs of religious songs, most being used in the Bontoc-Lagawe vicariate services. His art was used to design the interior of the church. Ethnic, modern, cozy, homey and warm are words to describe the house of the Lord in Sadanga. It shouts out loud, "Welcome home, Jesus". -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Glo A. Tuazon
Down by the Hapao River

HUNGDUAN, Ifugao -- People at Barangay Hapao here had reasons to be happy lately. Although life is hard, they found time to gather together for that annual "river rendezvous". The activity called punnok is an after-harvest thanksgiving ritual where everybody gets to relax and have fun after the tedious months of tending to the rice crops.

It is performed once a year right after villagers filled up their granaries with the season's supply of grains. This ritual was stopped and forgotten for a long time until Lopez Nauyac teamed up with artist Kidlat "Cabbigat" Tahimik to reintroduce the activity ten years ago in 1997.

Nauyac used to reside in Asin Road, Baguio City until he thought of returning home to Hapao. With an expanse of land, he and Tahimik started planting and regrowing trees in the area,a project they started and plan to do a lifetime. Their environmental concern soon branched out to include appreciation and reintroduction of cultures and traditions. With that is the rebirth of punnok.

Recently, the activity commenced with a ritual performed by the elders the previous night while the villagers anticipated the fun for the next day. Up and about very early, the village was a-buzz. Clad in traditional wardrobes of wanu (g-strings for men) and tapis, balko and lamma (wrap skirt, belt and blouse for women), Hapao reidents started making the kinaag first gathering the red-leafed plants called "cane of St. James".

Kinaag is an effigy or mannequin fashioned out of rice stalks or cogon grass bundled together and tied with natural fibers to become the representation of a man. They call it kinaag from the native word kaag or monkey.

This year's punnok had three participating groups, Barangay Hapao, Baang and Nunggulunan. When done with their preparations, the group leader shouted out load, brandishing their kinaag towards the other groups to let them know they were ready.

The other groups from across at the other side of the terraced valley answered in the same way. Thus started the procession to the river below. Each group paraded like soldiers to battle, in "full gear". They strutted their way down in chants, taunting the other groups like children bantering. They all meet along the riverbank.

Nauyac clambered up a big rock in the middle of the river and started a prayer, to thank God for
the blessings of a good crop season, for the success and happiness of everybody present, for prosperity and for sportsmanship in the duels. Then he called for the start of the games and everybody roared in applause.

It was indeed a very nice and welcome change while covering crop cycle rituals a the river. The clear and mesmerizing water flowing below the terraced mountains, the paddies filled with empty stalks now a mix of pale brown and green.

The big river rocks were smooth, that day “conquered” by people to be their "watchtowers" while the friendly competitions happened. There were people wrestling each other below, falling down to splash on the cold, refreshing waters. The main event though was the tug-of-war, Hapao style.

First that it was done in the water with each group on either side of the river with two participants in their native wardrobes. They used a long pole with a hook on one side, each fashioned and brought by his own group.

After the kinaag was drowned, one was pinned in between the hooks of the poles. With the go signal, they strained their necks and arms and legs to try to win. It was a measure of strength and so with veins straining out of necks and striated cuts bulging out of biceps and hams and glutes, they pulled.

Everybody had fun, so did the visitors who at one point joined the tug-of-war. This particular activity was an expression of the villagers’ gratitude to the Maker, a day they set aside to rest and enjoy until another crop season. With that they drowned again the kinaag and let it flow down the river, a sign to the gods that they have indeed finished harvest and have done the rituals to prove that. email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Watersheds to veggie plantations
GLO A. TUAZON

TINOc, Ifugao -- The watershed cradle of the Cordillera covers the provinces of Benguet, Ifugao, Mountain Province and other areas. These are protected areas -- parts of the mossy forest even belonging to our national parks.

These parts were once thickly forested, and everywhere you looked is the vast expanse of trees and thick undergrowth. In here are the most popular pine forests interrupted once in a while by a stretch of grassland. Going up to places with higher elevations would make a noticeable change of scenery when the pine becomes interspersed with forest trees. Then it goes up to more elevated areas and the mossy forests otherwise known as cloud forests appear. What wonder these places hold and bring about, sustaining us unselfishly with water consumed or turned into electricity.

This eco-region is a wonderland in itself. It used to house harems of known and unknown bird species. At one time the red hornbills were found in the forests of Tinoc and Hungduan, Ifugao (also found in the other municipalities) as evidenced by headgears of male warriors and hunters of that time.

The hornbills along with the crossbills loved pinecones and acorns for food. The civet cats (musang or motit) ran about in Asipulo so does a number of bats. Other endemic mammals, are the giant and dwarf cloud rats, found mostly in the mossy forests of Kabayan and Kapangan of Benguet. The warty Philippine hogs are about in most parts to include the Mountain province.

The vegetation is an assortment of trees, shrubs, flowers, mosses and lichens. Each thriving in partnership with everything else that grows. Each a wonder that most were used by indeginous people as cures to ailments. In the clumpy, damp world of mossy forests,oaks dominate the landscape, with profusion of other tree species.

Vines encircle moss and lichen covered trees and shrubs, and carpets the forest floor too. At this high elevation the temperature drops low. And with thick overhead cover the sun appears rarely. The matted underfoot silences the drops of water that runs underneath the gnarled roots to streams and rivers and springs.

Gone are the days when these forests were as marvelous. What remains are clumps here and there. Denuded and parched, most areas are now gray and brown from kaingin and quarrying. Illegal logging happens on another side.

A large percentage has gone to plantations of synthetically grown vegetables. The deforestation continues at an alarming regular pace. It was always the reason that human population and extreme poverty were the causes.

In reality it is but concern should set in. Until when and where does it end? Until every standing tree is mowed down by the heavy machineries creeping up these mountains? Does the concern for water not enough reason to start thinking of ending the mutilation of the land?

In Benguet, Ifugao and Mountain Province, the ravaging of the watershed areas go on unabated. A few concerned politicians, agencies, organizations and private individuals are moving and lobbying for the protection of the areas but most are unmoved and insensitive. For comments, suggestions and pooling in to help in the rehabilitation of our forests, please contact the author at twilight_glo@yahoo.com.

TRAILS UP NORTH

The man who believed he can
GLO A. TUAZON

HINGYON, Ifugao -- In a lot beside the Catholic Mission Church here is a small shed that houses the odds and ends of the organic garden project there. This is where Daniel Ihing, a 37-year-old inventor originally from Hungduan tinkers with his borrowed tools to create small machineries. He said he was not able to pursue college so at one time he had to forego lucrative dreams and high paying jobs.

What he does now may not bring him fortunes but he creates with a purpose in mind. Working with the rectors of the parishes in Ifugao gave him inspiration to go back to the basics to uplift in his own small ways both the “little people" and help save the environment at the same time.

Daniel said he once thought of learning to fabricate motor vehicles, passenger jeeps in particular but he does not have the capital to start one. So he thought of smaller projects to make instead. That brought him his first creation, the micro shredder. Painted in bright orange and rigged with a motor, the machine runs on electricity. Ifugao is mainly an agricultural province so most of the blue collared workers are either farmers or woodcarvers.

With his invention, biodegradable waste materials and uprooted grass and weeds from garden clearings can be converted to become compost materials or livestock food. The process is to insert the grass in the orange upright tube where a blade shreds it to tiny pieces. The shredded pieces then come out from the horizontal tube.

The concept here is that of a food processor or blender, put something in to be shredded into bits. With this machine, farmers and livestock raisers can save a lot on fertilizers and feeds. The other benefit aside from that is the fact that everything here is organic.

The need for synthetic fertilizers and feeds are lessened or totally eliminated. This invention was what worked for in the garbage disposal problem of Lagawe when the landpiles were filled up to he brim. The church collected the biodegradables from the market and converted it to useful compost. (Story on these next issue.)

Daniel's shredder can be ordered and bought for a mere P20,000, a lot lesser than other patented machines that does the same work. So what next I asked?

There is the micro tiller he said. Looking at children and women in the fields who harrow the rice paddies with carabaos or big tillers, it was difficult for them to maneuver the beast or the machine so he thought of making a tiller in a smaller scale. It is lightweight that 2 people can carry it to the paddies and handy enough for women to push around. It runs on gasoline though, but the tilling job is faster than doing it manually or with the carabao. F

or a man didn’t attend formal school, he fascinated me with his words and terms. At one point during our interview he talked about turbines and water elevations and pressure and. My turn to gawk, my lower jaw dropping, trying to comprehend the gist of his explanation on this next invention he did, a micro turbine.

Whew! Electricity is as good as gold these days, and yet in Ifugao some remote villages are still unlit to this day. He said this may solve some of that problem although he has yet to introduce it to the public unlike the other two projects which are already running and being used by those who have availed.

So who said only the learned could make a difference? Little ones in their own little ways can to. For me I have always had in mind this quote, "A brain with lots of ideas is useless without the hands that work it to become." Luckily for Daniel, unschooled maybe but he has both the brain and the working hands. email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com

TRAILS UP NORTH

Awards for Ifugao town
GLO A. TUAZON

LAGAWE, Ifugao -- This vast capital town of Ifugao is making raves. Mayor Ceasario D. Cabbigat said they won two awards that merited the town P100,000 for the "anti-momma spitting" ordinance and the "last-Friday-of-the-month-cleanup-drives," each garnering P50,000 as incentives for the good works.

The mayor said these are just beginnings of something better, and indeed the bright reddish-brown splatters of momma along the roads are easing up, a notable change from how it used to be. This means that the people are learning and cooperating.
Lagawe also having adapted coffee, both arabica and robusta, as their OTOP (One Town, One product) is in the process of distributing the seedlings for free to bonafide Lagawe residents, else they sell it for a measly sum of P4 per seedling to other entities.

This is for the reason they wanted the people to adapt and support the program with ideas of livelihood in mind. The coffee products would then be sold or consumed by the household, in a way contributing and helping out also in the backyard regreening and aesthetic values.

They showcase their seedlings in a nursery housed at the St Mary Magdalene Church compound just across the Municipal Hall for easy access but have a much wider and bigger nursery across town too. The big nursery holds more than 55,000 seedlings ready for distribution and sale. In its bid to become involved in social developments, SN Aboitiz has helped a great deal in pushing the OTOP with the officials of Lagawe.

Recently, Lagawe officials and other concerned organizations also conducted a tree planting activity atop Mt. Binahagan. Seedlings numbering more than a thousand and comprising of coffee varieties and mahogany were planted by high school students of Don Bosco, ISCAF and employees of the Local Government Unit and KIPHODAN and Kataguwan.

The continuing denudation of Mt. Binahagan that flows to serve water to about five barangays prompted them to take action, this also as part of their drive to help solve the bigger problem of the watershed issues.

Cabbigat was also recently acknowledged by Gov. Teodoro Baguilat for having a gambling-free festival during the Kulpi ad Lagawe with the support of the townspeople and active interference of the Catholic Church and other church groups and organizations.

TRAILS UP NORTH

Mayoyao on my mind
GLO A. TUAZON

MAYOYAO, Ifugao -- I've been whiling away three days in Lagawe, Ifugao when I heard a distant town in the province would be holding a harvest festival. I have not been to the place yet so I thought it would be a good idea to see it now and join the festivities at the same time.

Riding a bus to Mayoyao from Lagawe took more than four hours, through the narrow, winding roads. Most parts are unpaved, the roads are still bad along the Banaue side going to Bangaan Village and Batad where the famous terraces are located.

Turning right on the other side of the river that was the "divide," Mayoyao was in sight. My mouth and eyes were the same circular shape of ohs as we went along. Rugged, distant beauty all its own. Mayor Romeo Chulana humbly commented during his welcome address that he would not say their town is beautiful or awesome, that would come from the people visiting the place themselves.

So I'm saying it now, the place is a sight and the people are cool and very accommodating. First day I was housed and warmly welcomed in a cozy nook overlooking the village and terraces below. Farther was a large white and green structure that is the Mayoyao Hostel.

Yes, a hostel alone on top of a hill, like a castle looking over its domain of plantations, the grains now golden, blowing with the shift of wind. I was taken to the municipal plaza, the paired orbs of green and red lights glowing in the early evening, lighting the facade of the municipal hall and the stone-tiled playground. The sound of glee from children playing pierced the chill of the night.

Harvest time is often one of the most joyous season of the crop cycles anywhere. When the efforts and fatigue of planting and tending to the crops end and then comes pay back time. All the pressures vanish to the sights of reaping the fruits of the labor.

Mayoyao, along the lower regions is almost done with the harvest but the upper areas are still pushing on ahead to reap the crops. The pale gold grains sway with the winds at a steep elevation. Barangay Chaya this place is called. And then people came to meet and greet us, that all too familiar grin of teeth stained reddish-brown with the habit of momma chewing.

The calloused hands that shook ours were warm and strong, like the will that persevered all those times tilling the lands that fed them. My defenses of good poise broke and then I was all about mingling with them, clicking here and there, some at angles leveling me face to face with the dogs sniffing at my intrusions. My face as red as he stains of the momma on the ground, the adrenaline worked too well with a swig or two of the baya (tapuey or rice wine).

The ritual for harvest begun with the slaughter of a native pig, it being struck right below the pit of the foreleg, directly thru the heart. It did not take a minute for the pig to bleed and squeal, then lay silent, an apt sacrifice for the good health, luck and prosperity of the host family and those who will be participating in the harvest.

While the men started to butcher the pig for cooking, the women paraded down the rice paddies to start the harvest. I caught up with the women, running the paddies like a child, unmindful of the heat. My cameras clapping the sides of my leg and arms as I ambled my way down. The kel-leng (individual rice paddies) I noticed were wet, unlike the dry paddies I went to in the lowlands during harvests.

The harvesters sloshed their way in a line, each armed with that circular blade for cutting one rice stalk at a time. The bantering started, consequently interrupted once in awhile by the joyous singing to shoo away the boredom and heat. As they moved forward they trample the empty stalks to the mud on their feet, to rot there and become fertilizers for the next crop. Incidentally we were told to remove money, especially coins from our pockets to the harvest area. It is considered taboo as belief goes that with money, it was like we were buying the souls of the rice crop.

Only the women are allowed to harvest. The children may help too and they were there to collect the bundles of rice stalks from the harvesters which they in turn hand over to the men to tie in bigger bundles. Tied now, the bundles would pass to another man for the raw stalks to be trimmed. When the bundles reach ten, the owner of the field would bring it to the house and placed first in a ceremonial kayabang.

From there, the head of the family (the father), takes the bundles out to arrange it under the house or granary for stocking. It goes on until the fields are done. Ironically nobody is allowed to eat until the harvest is over. To fill up the tummies and invigorate the tired, sunburned harvesters, baya is passed around. These days however, light snacks are allowed.

With harvest done, we were fed with rice and big slices of boiled meat skewered on a stick. The baya flowed, like bottomless tea orders. The gong-beaters started again and merrymaking continued with some dancing. The ritual was concluded with the chanting of the menfolk, a prayer to the Maker and Giver of Life.

I viewed Mayoyao again from above, the wind gently skimming my face. For a long time, Majaojao and its people will be on my mind. -- email: twilight_glo@yahoo.com