Planting season in an Ifugao village
>> Friday, February 11, 2022
PLANTING SEASON in
Mompolia, Ifugao
Richard
Kinnud
MOMPOLIA, Ifugao -- As the vacation ends, beginning of the year, I leave my birthplace here while people, men and women, children to elders, are out on the rice fields busy.
Some are delicately uprooting the rice seedlings from the seed bed, others transporting them to the other parts of the field and even to farther terraces, while many are caringly sticking the seedlings into the water and mud. It's “ahiboge,” the planting the season, in my hometown.
Since my childhood, the rice fields are the first that comes to mind when I hear the word farming. At about August starts the so-called “ahingunuwan” which translates to “time for intense work.”
For those whose farms are blessed with abundant water, the work starts with “lamun”, the process of cutting undecayed rice stalks or weeds that may have grown on the pond field.
For those whose fields don’t have enough water or even have dried up, aside from weeding, would need the plow and the carabao, to turn up the soil or plainly manual with the spade.
Next comes “ahibanong” or fixing or thickening of dikes (banong). At about November, the fields are ready for ahihopnak, or the preparation of the seedlings. The culmination of the work progression would be the ahibotok, the harvest time, about April or May.
The time from after harvest up to the time when they start to prepare the rice fields again are outside of the ahingunuwan. But it does not mean they do not work. It simply means time for other endeavors such as going up the mountainsides, prepare a clearing and plant sweet potato or other crops.
Or maybe bringing down some logs to engage in woodcarving.
When I left the place three years ago, vehicles can already go to the place but there are no regular trips. Besides, the road then wouldn’t be passable to motorists during rainy days. At present, public utility vehicles ply the route.
This development seems to relate with the changes in the farms too. In this last visit, I observed the carabao and plow used in the rice field are now replaced by small tractors.
As to crops on the mountainsides, someone related his story of hitting a fortune with his ginger and pepper and were able to build a house. The road has made farm inputs go in and for the farm produce to be at the trading area more easily.
My thoughts went to the “tinawon”, the native rice, and other varieties that were adapted in the area.
Will other merchantable crops soon replace them in the fields? The tinawon at present is mostly produced for home consumption. In fact, in many households the supply from the harvests could only last up to some few months, and then they turn to “hinalub,” rice bought from the market. If ginger and pepper can build a house, it could be tempting for people to convert the rice fields into commercial gardens.
The tinawon rice is used in some cultural ceremonials.
But as can readily be observed, these spheres have changed a lot. Many of the old practices have been replaced new ones which rice and products from rice may not be relevant.
If there are rituals that are still practiced which may use rice or its derivatives, these can be easily substituted with those from the market. Rice wine for instance may be replaced by common alcohol beverages bought from stores during occasions.
But it remains a fact that the rice field has sustained generations. It could even be possible that this is a factor in life expectancy rate. That could be the most sensible reason now why planting the tinawon rice is still fun. The previous environment – cultural and natural, to which the planting of rice was set may no longer be restored. But hopefully, people realize that planting the tinawon is not just planting for supply in the coming months but planting for generations to come.
MOMPOLIA, Ifugao -- As the vacation ends, beginning of the year, I leave my birthplace here while people, men and women, children to elders, are out on the rice fields busy.
Some are delicately uprooting the rice seedlings from the seed bed, others transporting them to the other parts of the field and even to farther terraces, while many are caringly sticking the seedlings into the water and mud. It's “ahiboge,” the planting the season, in my hometown.
Since my childhood, the rice fields are the first that comes to mind when I hear the word farming. At about August starts the so-called “ahingunuwan” which translates to “time for intense work.”
For those whose farms are blessed with abundant water, the work starts with “lamun”, the process of cutting undecayed rice stalks or weeds that may have grown on the pond field.
For those whose fields don’t have enough water or even have dried up, aside from weeding, would need the plow and the carabao, to turn up the soil or plainly manual with the spade.
Next comes “ahibanong” or fixing or thickening of dikes (banong). At about November, the fields are ready for ahihopnak, or the preparation of the seedlings. The culmination of the work progression would be the ahibotok, the harvest time, about April or May.
The time from after harvest up to the time when they start to prepare the rice fields again are outside of the ahingunuwan. But it does not mean they do not work. It simply means time for other endeavors such as going up the mountainsides, prepare a clearing and plant sweet potato or other crops.
Or maybe bringing down some logs to engage in woodcarving.
When I left the place three years ago, vehicles can already go to the place but there are no regular trips. Besides, the road then wouldn’t be passable to motorists during rainy days. At present, public utility vehicles ply the route.
This development seems to relate with the changes in the farms too. In this last visit, I observed the carabao and plow used in the rice field are now replaced by small tractors.
As to crops on the mountainsides, someone related his story of hitting a fortune with his ginger and pepper and were able to build a house. The road has made farm inputs go in and for the farm produce to be at the trading area more easily.
My thoughts went to the “tinawon”, the native rice, and other varieties that were adapted in the area.
Will other merchantable crops soon replace them in the fields? The tinawon at present is mostly produced for home consumption. In fact, in many households the supply from the harvests could only last up to some few months, and then they turn to “hinalub,” rice bought from the market. If ginger and pepper can build a house, it could be tempting for people to convert the rice fields into commercial gardens.
The tinawon rice is used in some cultural ceremonials.
But as can readily be observed, these spheres have changed a lot. Many of the old practices have been replaced new ones which rice and products from rice may not be relevant.
If there are rituals that are still practiced which may use rice or its derivatives, these can be easily substituted with those from the market. Rice wine for instance may be replaced by common alcohol beverages bought from stores during occasions.
But it remains a fact that the rice field has sustained generations. It could even be possible that this is a factor in life expectancy rate. That could be the most sensible reason now why planting the tinawon rice is still fun. The previous environment – cultural and natural, to which the planting of rice was set may no longer be restored. But hopefully, people realize that planting the tinawon is not just planting for supply in the coming months but planting for generations to come.
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