“We the peoples of Mindanao have our own indigenous ways of resolving conflict. Ipakaylap nato[1].”
These were the words that hit me strongly throughout the
ceremony. It was a declaration, because it
seems that we have forgotten that long before the Spaniards came to colonize
us, we had ways of resolving issues that affect our everyday lives.
I use the word “us”
because I was born in Malaybalay, Bukidnon to settler-parents; parents who
found the land of Mindanao so fertile anything would grow on it. I use the word “us” because I am a child of
Mindanao, even if it was only very recently that I learned that one of my
ancestors is Governor General Bravo de Acuña
who was also instrumental in opening the Galleon Trade between the Philippines
and Mexico. It came as a pleasant
surprise that on this occasion, MILF Alternate Representative for IPs Datu Antonio Kinoc
recognizes the name as that of a governor general. I wonder if that gives me bragging rights to say
I may be somewhere within the 14th generation of poor cousins.
I use the word “us”
because I gave birth to three wonderful Cotabatenos having married a person who
made me realize that there is such a tribe called Maguindanaons. Gulo is the Maguindanaon word for 'teacher', similar to the Tagalog or M'ranao word 'guro'. Maguindanaons of yore could not pronounce letter R. Through time the word 'gulo' was Arabicized into 'ustadz'.
I use the word “us” because everywhere I go in Mindanao I feel I belong, I feel welcome. In short, I use the word “us” for a million reasons. On second thought, it really did not matter whether people accepted me or not – what is important is that I feel loved in their presence.
I use the word “us” because everywhere I go in Mindanao I feel I belong, I feel welcome. In short, I use the word “us” for a million reasons. On second thought, it really did not matter whether people accepted me or not – what is important is that I feel loved in their presence.
It was already twilight when we reached Talaandig Ancestral Territory,
262 kilometers east-northwest of the delta city of Cotabato. While most of the roads were already either
concrete or being constructed, the slippery 200-meter inroad cooperated with
Mujahidat, my reliable 7-year old KIA Avella which I think was the only
hutchback that reached the bosom of Mt Kitanglad so far. I squeezed it in between rows of vehicles
that streamed from various points in Mindanao in the last twelve hours. We walked
towards the Hall of Peace stage where testimonials of kinship were being
shared. I saw a lot of hugs being
exchanged -- maybe it spoke more than handshakes because no hugs came without igniting a smile on a person’s face.
The chants, kulintangs
and drums that interspersed the testimonials almost sent me to a trance had
we not been told by hosts that either dinner is ready or that we need to get
settled in the house where a family will share some space for the night.
Lengleng from the Secretariat assigned us to the home of Allan
who works in a banana plantation nearby.
He and his wife Roxanne together with children Colleen, Tommy and Brian
all move to one room of the house so that Froilyn, Jun and I can take the only
other room. Allan’s clan (mga dumagat[2])
comes from the coastal town of Opol in Misamis Oriental but they were allowed
to stay in the ancestral territory by the Talaandig Tribal Chief Datu Migketay
“Vic” Saway.
Allan’s sister Bebeng comes with a colourful mat. We unpack our sleeping bags and dozed off for
the cold night while the others were still left in the Hall of Peace stage for
more drumbeats, music and chanting.
* * * * *
Yang Kapian
By break of dawn we walk back to the Hall of Peace
grounds. The last mists of the night
were slowly lifting and I see calla lily (Zantedeschia
aethiopica) plants surround several houses.
Everyone gathers to agree on what to do for the Kinship Ritual which
would start after breakfast. We were
given each a leaf of the “kilala[3]”
plant, the hybrid of which is known in the lowlands as Baston de San Jose. In many video documentaries the same leaf
being used by Ifugaos and Igorots in their rituals.
Constant reminders were being announced that the ceremony will be solemn, and everyone was requested to turn their cellphones to silent mode, and refrain from talking. When the masters of ceremonies say, “Yang kapian”, that’s the time everybody claps their hands.
Constant reminders were being announced that the ceremony will be solemn, and everyone was requested to turn their cellphones to silent mode, and refrain from talking. When the masters of ceremonies say, “Yang kapian”, that’s the time everybody claps their hands.
The sacred ground was carpeted with moss and surrounded by
hardwood trees, indicating that the elevation of the place was high[4],
estimating that we were halfway up the mountain. On one side of the ground was the Datu
Kinulintang Hall, and the on the other was the Talaandig School for Living
Traditions. On the highest part of the
ground was a 20-foot monument, a sculpted jar or “tibud”, a replica of the clay article where, according to Datu
Simbalon of Malitbog, agreements in ancient times were put for safekeeping.
The first datu who
shared their story was the eldest brother of Datu Migketay. He asked permission from the crowd that he
had to use the Cebuano/Bisayan language as it is understood by the majority. He relayed the story of a great flood (lunop) which left dry land only as high
as the tanglad (lemon grass), thus
the name Kitanglad. The flood washed
away many people, leaving Apu Agbibilin who later found a woman floating on a “kalatung” (drum) on another mountain.
They had eight (8) children, some of whom went west and became the ancestors of the M’ranaos; the other children who went south became the ancestors of the Maguindanaos. I may have missed the account, but I presume there were also children who either stayed put or went north and east.
Apu Agbibilin warned that time will come when they will be many, and like hair they would entangle. So as part of their ways to resolve their conflict, they would use coconut oil in order to, again like hair, be smoothened out again.
They had eight (8) children, some of whom went west and became the ancestors of the M’ranaos; the other children who went south became the ancestors of the Maguindanaos. I may have missed the account, but I presume there were also children who either stayed put or went north and east.
Apu Agbibilin warned that time will come when they will be many, and like hair they would entangle. So as part of their ways to resolve their conflict, they would use coconut oil in order to, again like hair, be smoothened out again.
Other tribal representatives also shared their stories. The T’durays shared the story of the two
brothers, Tabunaway and Mamalu. While
Tabunaway converted to Islam upon the coming of Shariff Kabunsuan, Mamalu chose
to stick to his indigenous belief.
Tabunaway became the father of the Islamized tribes; while Mamalu became
the father of the indigenous tribes. It
did not bother me that the accounts were varied; I am comfortable with the idea
that everything they said, happened; and that the other element that need to be
factored into each event was time: as to when did each event happen.
Through the centuries leaders of the different tribes met to
resolve their issues; and the most recent one was done 492 years ago, shortly
before the Spaniards came to colonize what is known today as the
Philippines. A durian tree was said to
have been planted in Sitio Tikalaan to symbolize the peace pact. For this reaffirmation ceremony, a monument
was erected.
Result of various consultations
The Moro-IP Kinship Reaffirmation Ceremony was a result of
various consultations conducted among Moro and IP groups in 8 provinces
relative to the ongoing GPH-MILF Peace Talks.
The Mindanao People’s Caucus (MPC) and the Consortium of Bangsamoro
Civil Society (CBCS) were requested to be the organizers/secretariat.
After a couple of postponements having to synchronize
schedules and resources, it was finally set on March 8, 2012. According to the MPC, the aim is to awaken
the kinship relations among the early inhabitants that resulted to traditional
peace pacts, known as but not limited to the Tampuda, Dyandi, Pakang and Sapa.
The group is open by saying that this is an attempt to influence the
outcome of the current peace process by considering how peace pacts were
practiced and respected before.
Many organizations were invited to witness the ceremony. Though the GPH Panel did not send a
representative, the MILF was there, led by Prof. Abhoud Syed Lingga. Accordingly, the GPH gave way to the MILF to
be the main witness. ARMM OIC Governor
Mujiv Hataman was said to have sent a representative (though I did not see the
person nor remember the name). Bukidnon
Provincial Governor Alex Calingasan sent a representative; and NCIP X and XII
were also represented. Ifugao
Congressman Teddy Baguilat, Chair of the Congressional Committee on Cultural
Communities was also present. He said he
will file a bill proposing March 8 to be Mindanao Kinship Day. Historian Rudy “Ompong” Rodil was also
present; as well as representatives from the Armed Forces of the Philippines
(AFP) and the International Monitoring Team (IMT). Media practitioners were also present, and
needless to say several CSOs.
Moro tribes that were represented were the Maguindanao,
Maranao, Tausug, Kagan, Iranun and Yakan.
The IP tribes[5]
aside from the Talaandig were the Higaonon, T’duray, B’laan, T’boli, Dulangan
Manobo and Arumanen Manobo. Aside from
the members of the CBCS and MPC, around 500 participants registered.
The ceremony was a reaffirmation of kinship and shared
ancestry, which apparently had been buried in the Mindanawon’s collective
memory having had to struggle with colonizers and strong foreign influence in
the last five centuries. It was also a
reaffirmation that as a people we had traditional ways of resolving disputes and
these were honoured and respected; and I think it should not be difficult to
adapt as compassion and fairness has always been part of our nature. While the versions of the stories were varied,
it had common points like a common belief of a creator/powerful being; someone as
the father of each tribe; and that each tribe was characterized by its special
skills. It was also an assertion of
presence, a strong message saying “don’t exclude us in the peace talks”.
Principles of Kinship
There was also a call to focus on the similarities and not
the differences; and that there was no need to be afraid of the reaffirmation
ceremony because, according to a M’ranao representative, “it is good for
everybody.”
The tribes committed to five (5) pillars of kinship, namely: kilalahâ or mutual recognition and respect; sayudâ or mutual sharing of information; buligâ or cooperation; uyagâ or mutual protection and preservation of life; and pagbatunbatunâ or mutual obligation to help the needy.
A young male carabao and several chickens were slaughtered
on the sacred ground in front of the monument.
Both Moro and IP leaders offered prayers (sumbalî) to the spirits before
the actual slashing of the throats. It
is believed that the fresh blood of the animals (pabugwas) would cleanse the land and heal the wounds. Participants dipped their kilala leaves on the spilled blood. I chose to dip my leaf on chicken blood and tucked it on the breast pocket of my maong jacket.
An exchange of tokens followed. The tokens from the Moro included kris (sword), tubao (scarf), kupya
(cap), dudol (sticky rice cakes), agong, and a replica of a vinta (boat). Tokens from the IPs included the traditional
dress, kalapî
(sling bags), lambitan (sword) and
indigenous handicrafts.
An anointing of coconut oil on the forehead was also done, a
re-enactment of Apu Saulana being the woman who served as peacemaker for her
brothers in ancient times.
I purposely interviewed Bae Linandang, whose westernized name
is Delia Sinahon Hinganan, because she was wearing the only blouse that I found
unique among the rest: it had intricate needlework. Although there was a big hole left by rodents
on the left sleeve, she managed to patch it with red cloth to preserve the
whole blouse.
According to her, the blouse is 200 years old, having been
passed down to her by her mother who inherited it from her own mother and up
the line. According to her son Romnick,
who seemed to be more articulate than Bae Linandang, the embroidery is called pinagsuy and requires sixty (60) needles
to finish. It is a technique where you
have to overlap the threaded needles as you go along. It should be exciting to see how it’s done.
Bae Katipunan, Bae Linandang’s sister, is worried that pinagsuy is a dying art and that they
want to revive it. Only that up to this
time they don’t know how to get financial help so they could proceed. Without committing anything, I get her
contact numbers just in case it will come in handy. She says it will take at least a month for
several women to finish the whole get up (blouse, skirt, side bag that is sewn
to the skirt and kaolokapli (headdress)
which they sell for at least p5000.
Yes, I saw the real thing – rituals that are not packaged for tourists nor
staged for commercial purposes. No
pretenses. It was come-as-you-are;
you’re not a guest but a family member. There’s
a place to sleep, there’s food, there’s water.
The air conditioning cannot be turned off and is even full-blast
outside. Everything is yours for the
asking. You’ll be fine.
The entire ceremony was done shortly after noon. Lunch was served and most of the participants
gradually left for home. We gathered our
things from our host family and expressed our gratitude to Roxanne. Six-month old Bryan was being lulled to sleep
by Ate Colleen in his duyan (hammock);
while two-year old Tommy stood in his crib looking at us with his big eyes as
if to ask us to bring him and make “pasyal”
(stroll).
We transferred to the tulugan
or Hall of Peace, a two-storey structure approximately 25 x 15 meters wide on
each floor, which by now was almost empty except for a few members of the
secretariat. We now had time to examine
and take pictures of the Talaandig Soil Paintings that line the walls. It was amazing to note how soil can indeed be
mixed to produce an array of colors.
We made use of the rest of the day by exploring the School
for Living Traditions. More soil
paintings, more handicrafts. The wood
fired stove which is the center of a Talaandig home is moved to the side to
accommodate a long table which served as the Secretariat’s nerve center. I think the school is in a dire need for support
and maintenance.
We went to see the barangay.
In a house along the highway two men were sorting newly harvested
carrots for the market. We bought a few
kilos. We also took pictures of the
surroundings, and tried to get our orientations considering that this was our
first time in the bosom of Kitanglad Range. Kalatungan Peak was now towards the west,
while Dulang-dulang Peak was nowhere to be seen – could it be that we were
standing on it? Kitanglad Peak now seemed to be at arm’s length.
Vehicles in all shapes and sizes carry farm products or
aggregates. To say that there are big
trucks in this plateau province of Bukidnon is an understatement. For lack of better term, let me call them lorries,
and they consist a significant number of traffic hereabouts that at one time the
province was lauded to have the highest ratio of trucks to people.
Lantapan is no exception. “Tinuod
jud diay nga daghang milyonaryo sa Bukidnon,” I mumbled to myself. “Mao
tingali nga lisud makit-an nga naay pobre.” (I
think it’s true that there are so many millionaires in Bukidnon it’s hard to
see where the poor people are).
Though it is impressive to know that Lantapan is Bukidnon’s
vegetable and fruit basket, it is heart-rending on the other hand to see that
it is also a haven for commercial agriculture and chemical inputs. Herbicide companies proudly brandish their
products on the roadsides, promising to annihilate grasses as if these were the
most dreaded creature in modern civilization.
Wide swathes of land are actually fields of corn, pineapples, sugar cane
and bananas; and long tin-roofed buildings that dot the hillsides to the point
of encroaching protected areas indicate that contract growing for swine and
poultry is a thriving industry. I am
afraid that Lantapan is going to be the next Benguet where landslide is king.
Connecting the spirits
We had separate conversations with Datu Simbalon, Bae Adela
Saway and Bae Magagaw (which means tig-apud-apud
or one who shares). Datu Simbalon says
he would be very happy if I could send him the pictures I took of him; so he
gave me his address. Bae Adela always
made sure that we ate our meals and we had a place to sleep. Her pretty daughters helped her around and I
had my picture taken with them in their finery.
Bae Magagaw always made sure that there was always something cooking in
the kitchens. And by kitchens I mean
wood-fired stoves with big pots in different locations. (On hindsight, I notice that the rice was
cooked just right all throughout, unlike many big gatherings where the rice
always seemed either undercooked or overcooked or “nanimahong angtod” – smells of smoke).
It was now nearing twilight and Bae Magagaw was collecting
plastic mineral water bottles left by the participants. She said she will give these bottles to the other
members of the community, because it serves very well as containers or storage
items. One specific use for it would be
for rice that a mother saves for rainy days.
According to her, a wise mother should know how to save. For example, every time she cooks rice, she
should get just a handful and store it somewhere. She makes it a habit thus it is off her
conscious mind all this time that she is setting aside the rice. When lean season comes, she would still have
some rice for cooking.
Healthy bath water
Mary Ann calls it “Extra Challenge Part 2”, which means
having morning baths with ice-cold water that comes from a tap. Well, all you need is to cross the boundary by
pouring the first “kabô” (dipper) while taking deep
breaths and shouting to your heart’s content.
Having spent my childhood in Bukidnon was not a guarantee for me to get
used to icy bath water either. Somewhere
in the middle it makes me think of just not rinsing completely bahala’g nagkasabon pa (even if I'm still sudsy) just to get rid
of the cold. But then I remember my
mother and an aunt telling me that cold mountain bathwater is healthier because
it increases blood circulation. True
enough, as children we did not rely too much on warm clothing even if there was fog. Any person who felt cold for the rest of the
day was teased with “way ligô” (did not take a bath).
Oral tradition is alive
Having listened to a number of people in the last couple of
days made me amazed on how they could spontaneously relate in detail what they
know, what has been accordingly passed down through generations. I just wondered whether we, supposedly the
schooled, could have the same memory recall without any aid. Could we say their accounts are
accurate? Or could we say that the
details are just representation of some bigger truth? What is the bigger truth? Isn’t it also possible to share these stories
further without being identified with any political affiliation or ideology? Just ourselves, no labels?
I know there are already efforts to document these stories
in written form, and it is a race against time as those who hold it are already
advancing in years and may soon be gone.
As it is said, history generally belongs to those who write it.
We bid farewell to everyone; Wingwing gives me a dozen
planting materials of calla lily. The
young man blushes when I said I will always remember him every time it will
bloom.
The long drive was not exhausting: the spirits of the dead
and the living have energized us. We
came as observers. We saw the Moro and
the IP reaffirm each other’s kinship.
And, if you are neither Moro nor IP, aren’t you glad they did?
Sungko, Lantapan, Bukidnon
10 March 2012
* * * * *
The author is the
Project Manager of IPDEV, an EU-funded project for IPs in the ARMM, implemented
by the consortium of the Institute for Autonomy and Governance (IAG), Konrad
Adenauer Stiftung (KAS) and Development Consultants (DEVCON). The article is a personal account and the responsibility
of the author and can in no way be taken to reflect the view of the European
Union and IAG-KAS-DEVCON.
She is also
the convenor of Vetiver Forum, a volunteer-driven citizen action towards
environmental disaster risk reduction with the use of Vetiver Grass Technology.
[1] Kaylap –
Cebuano word for spread, usually referring to fire; ipakaylap – spread wide;
nato – let us; ipakaylap nato – let us spread wide.
[2] Root word:
dagat, meaning sea
[3]
Cordyline fruticosa
[4] Approx. 4000
feet
[5] There are 18
ethnolinguistic tribes in Mindanao http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hilltribes_of_Mindanao
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