Ibaloi Conversations INTRO.pmd
Transcription
Ibaloi Conversations INTRO.pmd
78 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being I Ibaloi Conversations IDENTIT Y C OMMUNIT Y IDENTITY COMMUNIT OMMUNITY , ON AND Published by WELL-BEING with support from II Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Copyright © TEBTEBBA 2010 All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the written permission of the publisher. Published by: Tebtebba Foundation No. 1 Roman Ayson Road 2600 Baguio City, Philippines Tel. 63 74 4447703 Tel/Fax: 63 74 4439459 Email: [email protected] Website: www.tebtebba.org Authors: Sofia Olga Anton, Rose Camilo Calatan, Jill Cariño, Gina Binayan-Kiswa, Vicky Macay & Roger Sinot Copy Editors: Judy Cariño and Raymond de Chavez Cover Design, Lay-out and Production: Paul Michael Q. Nera and Raymond de Chavez Gangsa illustration: Digitally manipulated from http:// kulintang.sulit.com.ph Cover: “Ngilin” (The Wedding). Painting by Sofia Olga Anton. Printed in the Philippines by Valley Printing Specialist Baguio City, Philippines ISBN: 978-971-0186-04-4 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being III Ibaloi Conversations IDENTIT Y C OMMUNIT Y IDENTITY COMMUNIT OMMUNITY , ON AND WELL-BEING IV Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction ............................................................ vii CHAPTER ONE Stories of the Ibalois in Baguio City .................... 1 Stories of the Ibalois in Loakan ......................... 2 by Vicky Macay Story of the Ibalois of Camp 7 ........................... 7 by Jill Cariño Bakakeng Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow .... 12 by Gina Binayan Kisawa and Rose Camilo Calatan Story of Guisad Valley and its Neighbors ......... 21 Roger Sinot Irisan Story ......................................................... 23 Jill Cariño CHAPTER TWO Family Matters and Recollections ........................ 29 by Sofia Olga Anton Muyot ................................................................. 31 Casumei and Ating (Ingosan) ........................... 33 Gold Panning ..................................................... 39 Ghosts ................................................................. 41 Pongo .................................................................. 44 Snakes ................................................................. 46 Shalshal .............................................................. 51 V VI Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being CHAPTER THREE Problems and Hopes of the Baguio Ibalois Today .......................................................... 55 by Jill Cariño Land and Housing ............................................. 56 Political Division of Large Ibaloi Communities and Lack of Representation in Baguio Politics ..................... 62 Loss of Traditional Livelihoods, Language, Changing Cultural Traditions ....... 65 Initiatives of the Baguio Ibalois Today ............ 71 About the Authors ................................................ 77 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being VII Introduction JILL CARIÑO I t all started as basic Ibaloi language lessons for us fourth and fifth generation Ibalois who had never learned the language. It then turned into formal interviews for a research on the history and indicators of the well being of the Ibalois of Baguio, and ended up as story telling, reminiscing about the old times in Baguio with new friends among Ibaloi old-timers of Baguio. In the process of our conversations and meetings with near and distant relatives and fellow Ibalois, we learned so much, discovering nuggets of traditional knowledge, and learning the ways and values of the Ibaloi. We also encountered initiatives all over the place to document, preserve and revive Ibaloi culture. It seems that the cause of bringing the Ibalois of Baguio forward, back from the margins and into the center, and making them visible in the city life of Baguio is a common one. Just as is the struggle for the recognition of Ibaloi ancestral land rights a common one. And just as is the search for unity among the remaining Ibalois of Baguio, in order to find their rightful place at the center of what was once their ancestral domain. It would be ambitious to write down all the stories we heard as a scholarly research on the history and culture of the Ibalois in Baguio and where they are now. Constraints in terms of time and resources limit the scope of this research. However, we would like to do justice to our informants by telling their stories as they were told to us, VIII Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being recalling their childhood memories, pranks and all, reliving their struggles for the recognition of land rights, and expressing their longings and wishes for the Ibaloi. We thought it would be a good start to document our conversations. Thus, we now have this collection of stories that present the situation of the Ibalois in different communities of Baguio, then and now. These Ibaloi conversations and stories serve as our contribution, just one among many initiatives, in the effort to recognize and dignify the Ibalois of Baguio and to let their voices be heard. WHO ARE THE IBALOIS OF BAGUIO? We went around to the homes of key Ibaloi families of Baguio, seeking them out in the communities where the old families had originally settled long before the coming of the colonizers. We found them in Loakan, Camp 7, Bakakeng, Balacbac, Pinsao, Guisad and Irisan, where the remaining Ibaloi families are concentrated today. In Loakan, they bear the names of Dangeg, Batil, Chakchakan, Oraja, Caroy, Topja, Chiday, Desot, Carantes, Tagle, among others. In Camp 7, you have the clans of Carino, Bilad, Palispis, Macay, Antonio, Chalmas, Binay-an, Amistad, Cohoy, Dalisdis. In Bakakeng are the families of Baday, Kitma, Camilo, Catalan, Binay-an, descendants of Pura, Kavingkot and Madiano. In Irisan are the families of Luna, Smith, Bugnay, Alvarez, Maganes, Oseo, Binay-an, Dusnong, Cupero, Gabol, Saguid, Menecio, Tacloy, Balaoan, Ingosan, Calatan, Tacay, Cutay, Gayduin, Salda, Mang-os. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being IX Many of these Ibaloi families are relatives several times over, near and far, by blood and by affinity, since it was the practice way back then for parents to arrange marriages of their children with other Ibaloi clans. Thus, we were able to trace our relations with many of our informants as far back as our grandparents, great-grandparents and great-great-grandparents who were siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles or in-laws. We were often told that the Ibalois of Baguio and Benguet can trace their roots back to a common ancestor, Amkidit, and that we Ibalois are all related to each other. Today, many Baguio Ibalois have already intermarried with people from other Cordillera peoples, while many others have married lowlanders from Pangasinan, Ilocos, Manila, etc. My impression is that it is now uncommon in Baguio to find a young couple who are both of Ibaloi descent. We also learned that children of mixed marriages between Ibaloi and non-Ibaloi are often taught to speak the language of the non-Ibaloi spouse. Thus, for instance, children of Ibaloi and Kankanaey couples speak Kankanaey or Ilocano or Tagalog or even English, but not Ibaloi. Those whom we met, who still speak Ibaloi today, are now in their 50s and above, while their children no longer speak the language. We ourselves were never taught to speak Ibaloi by our Ibaloi-Ilocano father and Cebuano mother, and English is our first language. Which is why we recently had to hold Ibaloi language lessons, as a way of getting closer and being true to our chosen identity as Ibalois. Despite our mixed Ibaloi-Ilocano-Cebuano heritage, we were born and grew up in Baguio and feel a sense of belonging and identity with the land of our birth. The sentiment is shared by many of our Ibaloi informants who continue to take pride in being descendants of the original families of Baguio. X Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being CHAPTER ONE STORIES OF THE IBALOIS IN BAGUIO CITY 1 2 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Stories of the Ibalois in Loakan VICKY MACAY (Original text written in Ibaloi, as a step to give respect to and revitalize the Ibaloi language in Baguio City) Loakan, circa 1900-1910. From the collection of Jack Cariño. S heya Doakan say toon sigud shiyay Ivadoy. Say eteg to Ngalngal (Camp 7), Dagsian, Happy Hallow (Des-ok), Atok Trail. Showa e barangay ni Doakan, Liwanag Barangay tan Loakan Proper. Say nan ngaranan to hono ni Doakan, eshahel kano nontan e edit jen Doakan. Et enggato niman guara fay laeng met eyay jen edet she landing (airport). Kaenkayang iyay jen edet, edongogan e naygawa to, tan kaen eged. Kenbunga ni emputi. Say tood sha Doakan jen sigud Ivadoy. Et say shaha pengekuwan ni esel Ivadoy/Inivadoy. Nontan say inon-an ko soni mahin anak son sigami guaray baeng she balbale, ta say too nontan manmanoy man obded opinsina. Say guaguashen sha ja obda bodoy. Isunga pateg soni Ivadoy ngoy buday. Egmebeden jen enshe e baeng. Say baeng eshahel met laeng esek jen pangshan, dokto, katimoro (kahoy), Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 3 ava, balat, dangka, abocado tan eshom mai-asek. Afel ngoy uma tan payew, nontan shaha ikuan e mauwang kitijo. No mauwang kami shema Boken, Salat (Zigsag) shema Pidawan (PMA now) tan shi Bonagnag (Atok Trail), kami ha ememel-at ni olay ni Balat, dokto, mais, no tempu ni ani kamiha memel-at ngo ni page. Say mausal ngo no kuwanshay mauwang kaybang, sigutoy guaguashen maujon nontan. Nontan no endaw kamid uma guara ni olay egshe nen nanang men pakkong, pakpakgongan to no kami ha man-ekad. Eshahel baha ra fay nontan, et say budusan, sama shontog jen senekop ni Camp John Hay tan sama shontog jen enda mowan ni PMA. Anggen pay keshel bulos era nontan, no en anak era ket shema shontog. No man me isaho et emay-ekad. No enanak e kaong nontan ket guaray kinse, sampulo. Nem neman da ngay ayshe met day budusan ni baha isunga manmano ngo lay manbeka tan memastol. Pati pemekan ni keshel ayshe la ta ekuan ni enasgang mo e man-ogob. Nontan say Ivadoy sheya Doakan no guaray en-esek ni sahi eraha man-iinahan, anggen pay maosal shi avong no ayshi asin to ono asukal. Menemnem ko no man saja era af-afo nontan eraha maulnong shi pupuan et eraha manshangshangshang, shiya pupuan sigatoy kaypoone ni keyew et belsegan. No mesenop eran emenangshang era ngo ha mais-istorya. Makdot ngo ered sha Doakan enggato neman. No mangdot era ni tayao eraha memalti ni nuwang, baha tan keshel nu kesho e guaray ekuan ni amed e mengsho ni kavajo era met laeng ka memalti. Nontan ket say karakdan jen bali ni ivadoy sheya Doakan ket esem et tabda e shatal to. Et guaray doongan to et shema doongan, bajoan, ekay pegori ni baha no puwek, guaray keshel pay. Et shi avong guaray shapolan sigatoy dutoan, et shima shapulan guaray safatan ni pagi. Shiyay jen safatan emay ehet ngo sota kay beteni ni ginoday. Egmankodang e mekan nontan ta masdo eray afafo, tatang tan nanang jen mangobda ni baday. Songa say boday sigatoy kawad-an ni biag. 4 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Insas ko la sorinja afafo tan nannanang tan tattatang jen mamapteng e shaha pan-aadivay. Nontan no guaray mangdot no manbabadiw era mamapteng jen may tetetneng. Mamapteng e shaha pan-aadivay. Nem ngantoy amo eray too da nontan jen egsha piyan jen egshean ni aanak e solibao, galsa, tihitik songa manmano maha amten mangagshe eren daminta. Shaha ekuan e engkalat. Apateg son ni afafo irajay ja osal isunga aliguan basta pajengjengat. DOAKAN, NOW BETTER KNOWN AS LOAKAN Translated from Ibaloi by Sofia Olga Anton T he original people of Loakan are Ibalois. The boundaries are Ngalngal (Camp 7), Dagsian, Happy Hallow (Desok), and Atok Trail. There are two barangays in Loakan: Loakan Proper and Liwanag. Loakan has been so named because of the abundance of grass called doakan. To this day, this grass still grows by the airport landing. Said grass grows tall, has a hollow stalk, and bears white flowers. In the old days, the houses of our people in Loakan were surrounded by big frontyards, backyards, sideyards, called ba-eng. These were planted with a variety of crops and fruit trees, bananas, camote, cassava, jackfruit, avocado and many more. You see, there were then very few of us Ibalois who did white collar jobs. We lived off the land; hence, it is very dear to us. Aside from the ba-eng, there were the clearings, the ricefields and paddies, located farther from the houses on the hillsides and mountain slopes. Our mothers and elders would enjoin us to go work in those fields and clearings. We would go to Boken (Zigzag), to Pidawan (now PMA), or to Bonagnag (Atok Trail). We would come back home with our baskets laden with bananas, camote, corn, taro, etc. And if it were the season Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 5 for rice harvest, we would be carrying rice in our basket. We also used to carry our pakkong, (a bamboo musical instrument) which we played as we walked on the trails to and from the clearings. Cattle was plenty then. The cows and the carabaos used to graze on the mountain slopes near Camp John Hay and the mountainsides going up to PMA. Even the swine were out in the open. And when a sow produced a litter of 10 or 15, we would go and get them. We put them in sacks and we carried them home. But now, we don’t have the pasturelands for the cattle. We don’t have the space for pigs and even if we do, our neighbors would complain of the stink from pigpens. Then, the Ibalois here in Loakan were very generous. They shared whatever they could with one another: be it the produce from their baeng, or jokes or riddles as they were warming themselves. The people of Loakan have adhered to many of our old customs and practices. On occasion and as need be, they perform the kedot or cañao, a ceremonial rite, accompanied by feasting. When the kedot calls for tayao, or ceremonial dancing, more animals are offered and butchered for the festivities: pigs, cows, carabaos, and even a horse. Then, most of the houses were made of galvanized iron. The wooden floors were raised high so as to leave a sort of open basement (do-ongan). Tools and implements were kept here. The swine could even sleep here and sometimes, especially on stormy nights, the cow was tied to the post. There was also a smaller house/hut called avong. This served as a kitchen. There was the sha’polan, the cooking place. Above this would be the safatan, a little granary where the rice is stored to dry. Here also may be kept the strips of meat called kinoday, hanging out to dry. There was no want of food. They were very industrious. They tilled their land, which in turn, nurtured and sustained them. 6 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being I saw how our elders, our parents and grandparents and relatives would gather together, happily socializing. This was especially so during kedot festivities. I don’t know why though in the old days the elders didn’t allow the youngsters to play the solibao or the gangsa or the tihitik. They used to say that it would bite. Their words and admonitions were solemnly heeded so it was that the drums and gongs were not sounded on a mere whim. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 7 Story of the Ibalois of Camp 7 JILL CARIÑO Camp 7, circa 1900-1910. V From the collection of Jack Cariño. etrino Macay, born Feb. 22, 1941, started his story of Camp 7 by noticing the besheng, a ricebird, chirping by his window. We were at his home in Youngland, a place named so by Joseph Carantes because it was here where the young ones before used to gather to play their guitars, drums and combos. Vetrino is now retired after having worked at the Department of Interior and Local Government (DILG) for many years. Our conversations with Vetrino, his wife Christina, and with other Camp 7 residents Melicia Chalmas, Angeline Damaso Binay-an, then Barangay Captain Marvin Binay-an, Norma Cahoy and Rosemarie Dalisdis produced many stories about the history, lives and hopes of the Ibalois of Baguio. 8 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being The besheng is now rare, unlike before when Camp 7 was still made up of wide rice fields, forests, pasture land, rivers and gardens. Not as fortunate is the paideng, a big carp-like fresh-water fish, which they used to catch during the 1950s in the strong river flowing near Vetrino’s home in Camp 7. The paideng can no longer be found today. The river is now just a stream and the paideng disappeared after mosquito fish were released into the river upstream in Loakan and ate up all the paideng eggs. Vetrino’s memories of Camp 7 reveal that significant changes have happened in the last 60 to 70 years or so. Camp 7 used to be a part of Loakan, which was an original Ibaloi settlement with vast farm and pasture lands. People used to walk far distances (mauwang) from Loakan to Camp 7, Atok Trail, Greenwater (Duvas) and other places to work in their swidden farms or uma. Walking back home from the uma, they carried back camote, vegetables, other crops and firewood. Around the house, they raised native chickens and pigs that were allowed to roam free and were fed with camote leaves and tubers. He remembers when he was a child and his grandmother, Bilad and her husband, Ducio Macay, held a cañao in Camp 7. They caught a big pig and some chickens, which they killed to feed all the people of the community. The pig was so fat, it had a layer of fat two inches thick. But the usual food at home was rice and camote (dukto), native gabi (ava) and other vegetables from the uma. When they could catch them, they ate paideng, bayek, frogs and binga (snails) from the river, which have now all disappeared. At the start of the rainy season, usually after a lightning storm, they would gather mushrooms (kato), as a special treat, under the pine needles at Kavuonan, near Voice of America. Camp 7 and Loakan was where the stones that built the old Baguio Stone Market came from. It was the work of the men in the family, from father to son, to gather stones Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 9 from the river, break them up by heating them with fire then pouring water over them to make them crack, carry the stones with baskets and load them onto the truck of Mr. Caguioa who bought the stones at P3.00 per truckload. Other livelihoods of the people then, aside from farming and selling stones, were raising and selling cattle and gathering cow dung to sell to farmers as fertilizer at 10 centavos per basket for their gardens. Some rice fields were also converted to vegetable gardens and produced potatoes and other temperate vegetables. The developments brought in by the Spanish and American colonizers steadily changed their lives. The Spaniards treated them as slaves, peon or bagaen, prompting the Ibaloi to revolt against them. Vetrino’s greatgrandfather, Mateo Carantes, joined the revolutionary Katipuneros and the name given to him by the Katipunan was Bahag. Bahag later fled to Kabayan to escape pursuit by the Spaniards. The American colonizers treated the Ibalois more fairly and paid for the food or animals they took. But they took over their lands, which all belonged to the Ibalois to begin with, to build the city, which they planned as a rest and recreation sanctuary for American forces. They declared vast areas of Ibaloi land as government and military reservations, including parts of Loakan, without paying for them. When Vetrino was born, his grandparents were already living in Camp 7, after transferring there from Arupong in Loakan, which had been taken over by the Americans to construct the airport and the Philippine Military Academy (PMA). Before the airport, the Americans had set up the Demonstration Mines below the PMA area across the airport towards Ongasan. The Demonstration Mines drained the natural water springs causing the ricefields in Loakan to dry up. Then the Americans converted the ricefields into the airport, which displaced several Ibaloi families who had to transfer to Camp 7. Other places in 10 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Loakan were drained of their water sources when Camp John Hay was developed on the land that the Americans took over from Mateo Carino and Bayosa Ortega. The Americans enforced a foreign system of land ownership that required the people to apply for titles over their lands. Vetrino’s grandmother, Bilad, complied with the requirements of titling and was able to obtain Original Certificate of Title (OCT) No. 1 over her land in Ngalngal (part of Camp 7) in 1906, the first ever titled property in Baguio City. OCT No. 2 was issued in 1916 to Mateo Carantes, Vetrino’s great-grandfather. However, the titling of lands opened wide the door for the sale of the land. It facilitated and hastened the influx of outsiders into the city. Loakan, including Camp 7, was one of the original 48 Igorot claims surveyed in 1945 and recognized by the Commonwealth government. The Japanese are remembered for their short but cruel and brutal occupation of the city. The people feared the Japanese because they punished and killed those whom they suspected as guerillas. Vetrino’s father, Telangan, was a victim of the abusive Japanese who suspected him of selling ammunitions to the guerillas. Japanese soldiers came looking for him, hit him, arrested him and brought him to the City Hall. Because of his experience during the war, Telangan later joined the Philippine Army. Today, the Ibalois of Camp 7, as in many other parts of the city, have already sold much of their land. With the loss of most of their traditional livelihoods, the sale of land emerged as a recourse for survival. The sale of Ibaloi lands became a trend in the city, borne out of necessity and as an adaptation to new systems, developments and needs. Proceeds from the sale of the land were used to live on, get an education, build homes or start a business, and pay for other basic services and necessities in the highly-urbanized setting of Baguio. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 11 When asked if land rights is a problem for them today, they mentioned the takeover of their land by illegal squatters and the sale of their land by others who do not even have any papers to show, as among the problems they face. They also said that perfecting their legal papers over the lands they own is very important to them as a defense against continuing attempts by outsiders to grab their lands. 12 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being B akakeng Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow 1 GINA BINAYAN KISWA and ROSE CAMILO CALATAN Sto. Tomas Mountain, circa 1900-1910. From the collection of Jack Cariño. J ust as any place has its history, so too has Bakakeng its own story to tell. This dates back to the 18th century when Bakakeng was inhabited by some Ibaloi and a few Kankanaey families. Bakakeng then comprised these areas: 1. Shalshal (Bakakeng Road, Justice Village, Pucay Village, Kitma Village and Pirasas Compound). This area was prone to landslides, hence was named Shalshal, an Ibaloi term that means easily eroded; This section was written by Gina Binayan Kiswa and Rose Camilo Calatan as part of a research on local histories conducted and submitted in August 2000 and is included here with their permission. Their informants include Binning Akia, Julita Kitma, Luisa Manis, Lucia Ingosan and Lucy de Guzman. 1 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 13 2. Balengavang (Amparo Heights, Ciudad Grande, Mary Heights and Lexber Subdivision); 3. Sarok (Puroks 6, 7 and 8); 4. Bengaw (has retained its name); 5. Des-ang (Crystal Cave areas); 6. Tihing (Chapis Village and a portion of Sto. Rosario Valley); 7. Dalshi (SLU-SVP Housing Project and Rich View Square Subdivision); 8. Muting (Teachers Village). With the creation of the different barangays in 1972, Bakakeng was subdivided into puroks; thus came into being Bakakeng Central, Bakakeng Norte and Bakakeng Sur. Being endowed with grassy plains and hills, the Ibaloi found the place ideal for cattle raising. Large portions of Bakakeng became pasturelands. Out of creativity, cattle owners made potholes, which served as water troughs for their cattle. Bakakeng derived its name from two Ibaloi terms, “baha”—cow and “bebkeng”—to make potholes using sod or turf (sod—short grass and the surface layer of earth bound together by its roots). Bakakeng used to have pine-covered hills, springs, fertile soil and life-giving streams. It was a land that once yielded food for everyone. Time was when Ibalois had great respect for the streams, the trees and the land as a whole, aside from the sky and heavenly bodies. With such attitude, they developed a closer, more intimate relationship with nature. For them, land is Mother Earth and from her womb sprung the life of the mountain people. Land was regarded as a gift from Kabunian, the Supreme Being, to be maintained and nurtured through time by hard work. It was through hard work that land could bear fruit. Thus, most families, if not all, engaged in tilling the soil by swidden farming, vegetable gardening, cattle and hog raising. Such was the time when nature provided the best fertile soil, hence, no 14 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being need for chemical fertilizers. Plants and animals grew robust and healthy. Cooperative work was well-portrayed through the aduyunan, a system in which the community would voluntarily participate at work on the farm or in building somebody’s house. Communal living then was not only a social structure, but also their style for transmission of values. These values bear constant reference of things and events to their elders, ancestors, and spirits in the environment. Elders of integrity were looked up to as community leaders. They composed the tungtungan, a Council of Elders, who enforced community laws, decided matters over disputes among families or community members and discussed issues concerning the community. The religion, which was animist in nature, promoted a lifestyle and consciousness that was in tune with the ecosystem. Religious beliefs taught them to preserve nature and allowed them to grow as a self-sufficient community, keeping their communal lifestyle, cooperative work, trade, rituals, songs, dances, musical instruments and handicrafts. A community celebration was always an event to look forward to. This may be a wedding feast or a cañao. The term cañao has never been used as an Ibaloi word. The original term used when referring to said celebration is kedot or kesheng or silbi or digat. It was in recent years that the term “cañao” came about, which was perhaps of foreign origin. A cañao is celebrated for some reasons. It could be in thanksgiving for good health or abundant harvest. It may also be for healing, reconciliation or in commemoration of a death anniversary. Animals like cows, carabaos and pigs are offered. Not anybody is authorized to perform the rituals. Only a mambunong (indigenous priest/priestess) may do so. Dancing may or may not take place depending on the type of cañao being held. A set of Ibaloi musical instruments for dancing are as follows: Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 15 Two gongs named the kalsa and pinsak Two short iron bars called tiktik Two drums called kimbal and solibao The players have to beat these instruments harmoniously in order to produce the Ibaloi rhythm. The first portion of the dance is sacred as this is for the spirits of the ancestors. This is done prayerfully and is supervised by the mambunong who utters prayers in between the dancing. The rest of the dance is usually for merry-making in which the youth and the guests may participate. Since the cañao is a community affair, each family is involved in the preparation of this activity. It may be worthwhile to picture how an Ibaloi cañao happens. Several days or weeks before the event takes place, the community gets involved in its preparation. The men see to it that piles of firewood are ready. Families bring in their share of gabi, camote, vegetables and whatever they wish to contribute. Young men and women take turns pounding kintoman (red rice). Some women prepare the jars for rice wine. On the day of the cañao itself, the whole community gathers. Relatives and friends from near and far come to the celebration. Smoke, the squealing of pigs being butchered and the sound of gongs and drums will tell you that a celebration is taking place. After the rituals are done, the men do the butchering and slicing of meat after which 16 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being these are simply boiled. This was how simple our ancestors cooked their food. This perhaps could explain why they were healthier, stronger and lived longer. The young women’s task is to peel and cook the gabi and camote. The young boys are there to fetch water. The children’s presence, laughter and voices add life to the celebration. And there you find the respected elders, mostly in their colorful Ibaloi attire. The men are with their smoke pipes while the women enjoy their shubdaan (a bush that grows wild on the mountainsides, with aromatic leaves that are dried and rolled like cigarettes). This is the best time when the elders recount their history and continue sharing their dreams with one another. Sometimes they do this through chanting called ba-diw or story-telling. Rice wine is passed around for adults. At mealtime, the mambunong says some prayers and calls on all spirits of the Ibaloi ancestors to partake of the offerings. Then everyone is invited to eat. Looking at the scene, life seemed so beautiful and simple! That was when Bakakeng was once upon a time a haven for nature’s best and nature’s bounty was shared with everyone. Time was when food was gathered for consumption, not for exchange. That was when people found time just to be with others and enjoy each other’s presence. Such was a strong spirit of communal living among the peace-loving Ibalois of Bakakeng! The kedot is but a deep expression of their religious beliefs, which was misunderstood by the early missionaries and, sad to say, was branded as “pagan.” The early missionaries tried to evangelize them but the elders remained steadfast in their indigenous faith. But later, some of them allowed their children to be baptized as Catholics through the endeavor of Sister Mary Fidelis Dorsch, an American Maryknoll Sister, who relentlessly visited the Ibalois in their homes. How people appreciated her cordial approach of dealing with them. She dared hiking the trails of Bakakeng rain or shine. On her scheduled days to Balacbac or Tuba, the “Pony Boys” like Durante Bangsi-il, Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 17 Ruperto Ingosan, Ramon and Basilio Camilo were always ready to offer her a horseback ride to and from the place. While it is true that most of the elders were not formally schooled, the values handed down to them never diminished. When some schools in nearby places opened, they took the opportunity to send only the boys for education. They believed that girls need not go to school as they were meant to stay home to do household work. The first school which most attended was Tuba Central School. Some years later, parents saw the need for girls to be educated too. So when Atab Catholic School opened, both boys and girls were sent for classes. Atab School was erected on a lot donated by the Suellos. This was run by the Maryknoll Sisters until it phased out in the late 1970s. As to date, it is a school for the blind. It is delightful to say that some of the first teachers of Atab hailed from Bakakeng like Mrs. Cecilia Lutis Quinio, Mrs. Lourdes Kitma Passi, Mrs. Catalina Okubo Pucay and Mrs. Lucy Smith de Guzman of Balacbac. As time went on, more parents saw the importance of education, so they felt responsible to send their children to school. It is remarkable to say that many have pursued schooling and are now professionals. Some of these professionals have remained in Bakakeng to serve the community and the city, while others have gone to other places to seek greener pastures. There are some who have entered into politics and are now officials of the barangay. It is noteworthy to mention that Mr. Jose Parisas Baluda who belongs to the Buyoc clan made it to the position of Mayor of Tuba, Benguet. Gratitude is attributed to the parents who have seen the importance of education for their children so as to be able to cope with the changing times. Similarly, the Ibalois understand that land does not belong to anyone or to any one generation. The mountains and hills were regarded as God-given communal inheritances that must be preserved and passed on from 18 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being one generation to the other. This concept of land made them resist foreign domination by the Spaniards. The Americans, however, won them over by their “benevolent” rule and introduced titling of lands. The Ibalois were then caught between two worlds of values—those strong communal spirits of their past and those which come from individualistic tendencies of modernization. Gradually, they experienced conflict and disorientation on cultural values. In this confusion of change, there was no other option. The lands that used to be communal were titled as private individual properties. This entirely changed the principle of tribal ownership. This meant the possibility of losing their cultural heritage and assuming the ways, values and culture of the government. As a consequence of land titling, the elders decided to preserve a certain portion of the land for a burial ground for the community, particularly for the descendants of the original Ibaloi inhabitants of Bakakeng, including the early Kankanaey settlers. The area identified by the community is now the Bakakeng Ancestral Cemetery which is located at a prime lot between the old and new SLU-SVP Housing sites. This portion happened to be a grazing land for cattle owned by the old folks Calsi and Parisas. In 1920, when some inhabitants started titling their lands as private properties, Calsi and Parisas excluded this identified cemetery from being titled. Indeed this was done out of concern and respect for the decision made by the community elders. It is significant to mention some community elders as recounted by Benning Parisas Akia (Buyoc Clan), Julita Calatan Kitma (Taktak clan), Luisa Akia Manis (Calsi clan) and Kucia Camilo Ingosan (Mariano clan). Here is a partial list of names of community elders of Bakakeng: 1. Pacalso and Kintana (survived by the Mat-an, Bartolome and Demot families); Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 19 2. Palispis and Ahudaw (survived by the Binay-an, Kiwas, Baday and Kelvan families); 3. Buyoc and Payat (survived by the Parisas families); 4. Calsi and Shamja (survived by Balong and Damsis families); 5. Batil and Bitnay (survived by the Mariano and Bangsi-il families); 6. Taktak and Shahunay (survived by Kitma and Bangsi-il families); 7. Basawan and Suyep (survived by Palos, Chapis and Camilo families). As a matter of fact, when the SLU-SVP Housing Project started, the CICM Fathers inquired about the possibility of swapping the cemetery lot with another lot below the old site area. With Mr. Daniel Milo’s explanation on how sacred the burial site is for the community, the plan didn’t push through. Of course, the Ibalois of Bakakeng would have opposed the idea. In the mode of development, gone is the concept of land as a gift held in stewardship for future generations. Gone are the lush greenery and other vegetative cover to developers who value the land in terms of square meters. Gone, too, is the scent of pine needles, which used to bring a refreshing feeling. What now exist are denuded hills, squatters within Bakakeng Ancestral Cemetery, buildings of all sizes and shapes, housing projects and subdivisions. Water is no longer in abundance. Springs, which used to be found along hillsides, disappeared due to earth-moving activities. Space and water have become precious commodities. Such is an example of how greed in the guise of development can ruin a previously well-maintained environment. With the present realities of Bakakeng, it is the hope of the remaining Ibaloi elders to equip the young with the riches of their own cultural heritage and values to help 20 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being them blunt the blow of rapid changes. These values will help them make discernments that could bring decisive action, while opening them to options as they face the problems of change. Elders have come to realize the mistakes of our past educational system that have contributed to the disorientation of young generations from their historical reality. They feel it is their responsibility to hand down tribal values and to challenge the young to continue their history as a people along the values of community and Christian spirit. Their aspirations could only become a reality when Bakakeng becomes fully alive, continuously moving towards self-determination and national identity. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 21 Sitstory of Guisad Valley and Neighbors ROGER SINOT Guisad Valley, circa 1900-1910. From the collection of Jack Cariño. P insao was one of the puroks or sitios of Guisad Village as told by my mother and grandfather, the late Eugene Pucay Sr. When the Americans came to Baguio in the early years of 1900, they introduced their way of government, which was handed down to the Philippine government. They expropriated into government ownership most of the Ibaloi lands in the valley. Guisad was declared as Bureau of Plant Industry (BPI) reservation. Other areas in Baguio were declared Military, Forest, and Mining Reservations. They built schools (Easter 22 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being School and Bonifacio Elementary School in Guisad) and churches (Seventh Day Adventist, Christian Science and the Baptist Theological Seminary). The Ibalois of Guisad were farmers and cattle raisers (horses and domestic animals). Some had to move to the neighboring mountains of now Aurora Hill, Quirino Hill, Pinget, Kalkalan, Benin, Irisan, and towards the boundary of Baguio and La Trinidad. The Edwins, Solanos, Zarates, and Lacadens stayed within the compounds of BPI with limited residential areas. The families who went to the mountainsides were the Camdases, Sinots, Pistolas, Smiths, Kiangs, and Bilags. They are all of kin. The La Trinidad valley was also the grazing land of the Tompaos, Alinoses, Kimos, Nabuses, and Laoyans. These groups of Ibalois have one thing in common. When a cañao celebration occurred, every household of the La Trinidad and Baguio Ibalois received the share of pieces of meat called watwat, until the last Ibaloi families of Loakan area. This indicates they are all of kin. Displaced Ibalois of Guisad valley who settled in the mountains went in groups, the BABEPIN (Badihoy, Benin, Pinsao). Badihoy was where the Acops, Kiangs, Willys, and Alinoses lived. Benin was where the Pistolas, Smiths, Camdases, and Zarates lived. Pinsao was where the Sinots, Bilags, and Bugnays lived. These Ibalois were not businessmen, but were farmers fond of raising cattle with a communal pastureland. Some of their relatives settled in Irisan (the Osios, Saguids, Kiwases and Esperanzas) all the way to Asin (the Amistads, Aloses, Okubos, and few other offspring). Pinsao Pilot, Pinsao Pinget, Aurora Hill, Quirino Hill, Quezon Hill, and Fairview were the pastureland or grassland of the early Ibalois. Now they are barangays and sitios of the North of Baguio. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 23 Irisan Story JILL CARIÑO W e were told the story of Irisan by Virginia Luna, now 72 years old. Virginia is a native of Barlig, Mountain Province, who as a young girl of 13 years, came to Irisan with her father in 1946. Later on, she married Felix Luna, a son of one of the 20 or so original Ibaloi families who had first settled in the community of Irisan during the early 1900s. Aside from Luna, other original Ibaloi families of Irisan are Oseo, Palgi, Gabol, Pucay. Most of these families came from Kabayan before settling in the area of Irisan. Most are related to each other as siblings or cousins, since it was the practice of the Ibaloi then to intermarry among themselves. Also among the early settlers of Irisan was Calatan, a Kankanaey from Buguias who married a sister of Luna. Irisan used to be a part of Tuba, Benguet under the first mayor of Tuba, Swaking Ismek or Joaquin Smith (father of Tomas Smith). Irisan comes from the Ibaloi term “idisan” meaning a wood used to grind something to make it fine. Not so long ago, until the 1950s, the place was thickly forested with pine trees. The old folks used to say that they planted the pine trees so that they could have wood to make their houses. There were only a few houses in Irisan then. The traditional Ibaloi houses were made of pine wood and cogon stick roofing or sapsap. There was also a creek nearby where gold panning was done, and a lime quarry (apugan). 24 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Irisan gorge, circa 1900-1910. From the collection of Jack Cariño. The lime quarry was later on bought by the mining company Benguet Consolidated Inc. (BCI). BCI established a lime kiln in Irisan in 1945 to supply lime for their gold mines in Itogon. The lime kiln was a joint venture between the Ibaloi Felipe Pucay and the American company BCI. The lime kiln drew in many other settlers who came to Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 25 work there. Among them was Catalino Pablo, father of Virginia, who found work as a carpenter in the lime kiln. Upon graduation from high school in Irisan at 15 years of age, Virginia married Lopez Oseo, a local Ibaloi, and bore a son. However, the marriage ended in separation. Later, (after a settlement with the family of her first husband), she married another Ibaloi man of Irisan, Felix Luna, and bore 10 children. Titling of lands in Irisan that started as early as 1922 included the Igorot claims known as the 211 titles. Oges Oseo, who had the widest land in the area was able to title his land. Likewise, Joseph Gabol and Pastor Gabol were able to title 27 hectares of their land. Eventually, these titled lands were sold to people from Manila, including a realty company that converted and developed the land into subdivisions. Lots in the subdivisions were quickly sold to outsiders, mostly from Manila. The Cypress area in Irisan, which was originally titled in the name of Pucay, was also sold to a land development company that came with bulldozers and converted the land into a subdivision. Lots were again sold to outsiders who could afford to buy the land. In 1952, Don Benito Lopez bought land in Irisan and set up the Baguio Military Institute, a school for rich people. The school eventually closed down and the land was taken over by the Korean company, Coo Yee San. In 1983, another area of Irisan, the land of Daniel Maganes, Tomas Smith, Gabol and Saguid, was designated as a resettlement area for the urban poor during the term of Mayor Bueno. The land was to be paid by the settlers to the ancestral landowners at P2.00 per square meter. This started the influx of thousands of settlers and squatters into Irisan. Many associations of settlers and urban poor came in to set up their houses in Irisan. They approached the barangay officials to allow them to build their houses and to certify that they were residents in the area. They 26 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being started to improve the land and construct houses. Some of them later on sold the land to third parties, even without the benefit of legal titles. Some parts of Irisan that were not titled but were covered by tax declarations reverted back to public land. The number of houses in Irisan increased rapidly. This prompted the Baguio City government to conduct demolition of illegal structures of settlers and squatters starting in the 1990s. Many houses, big and small, were demolished for lack of building permits and legal titles to the land. A fairly-recent development in Irisan is the Community Mortgage Program (CMP), which has further complicated the land situation in the community. The dump site in Irisan started as the ancestral land of Joaquin Smith. The land later became public land of the city that was used for housing of employees of the Baguio City Health Department under the leadership of Dr. Gorospe. All these developments brought drastic changes to Irisan. Where before were thick pine forests, gardens, pasture lands and a few scattered houses, are now denuded mountains filled with houses and other structures that have mushroomed all over the place. Through the years, roads, schools, bridges and other infrastructure were developed by the city government to serve the fast-growing population of Irisan. Irisan barangay now has the biggest population of all barangays in the city. It is divided into 33 puroks. In each purok, you can still find a few Ibaloi families living there, whom Virginia Luna took pains to mention by name. Ibalois are now a small minority in the barangay, far outnumbered by other ethnic groups. The majority of the barangay population is now composed of settlers from other provinces of the Cordillera, from Manila, from other lowland provinces and elsewhere. Irisan is a microcosm of the City Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 27 of Baguio, a melting pot of various ethnic groups and cultures, where the Ibaloi are now a small minority. It is telling that when looking for Ibaloi informants in Irisan, we were referred to Virginia Luna, a long-time barangay official, who served in the barrio council from 1967-1970, then as barangay captain from 1972 to 1988, and who, until now, still serves as a barangay kagawad. Although she is not an Ibaloi by birth, we were told that we can interview Virginia, who is well-informed and can speak on the situation of the Ibalois in Irisan. True, Virginia is a rich source of knowledge about the development of Irisan barangay through the years, about her work as a barangay official and as market vendor and dealer-supplier of Baguio vegetables to well-known restaurants in Manila. But she speaks, not as an Ibaloi, but as one who has married into an Ibaloi family, and who has not imbibed the Ibaloi culture. In fact, it is the other way around. Ibaloi descendants have now imbibed the cultures of those who have come in to intermarry with them and live in the place. Although the children of Virgina and Felix Luna are a mere two generations away from the original Ibaloi settlers of Irisan, they don’t speak Ibaloi, which is typical of children of mixed marriages. Despite decades of living in Irisan, Virginia cannot speak on behalf of the Ibaloi of Irisan, who it seems have become silent and have passed on to others the responsibility to speak on their behalf. The situation of the Ibaloi in Irisan is an indication of the trend happening all over the City of Baguio. In Irisan is proof of the minoritization, marginalization, dislocation, silence and invisibility of the Ibalois in the face of rapid urbanization and massive in-migration of numerous other peoples and cultures into Baguio. 28 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being CHAPTER TWO FAMILY MATTERS AND RECOLLECTIONS BY SOFIA OLGA ANTON 29 30 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Writing of family histories is one way for today’s Baguio Ibalois to learn their own history and be educated on the role of their ancestors in the development of Baguio. Family histories serve to build pride among the younger generation in the accomplishments of their ancestors, while teaching them the traditional values and customs of the Ibalois. Historical accounts also shed light on the various factors behind the diminishing wealth, power and role of the Ibalois in the life of the city. Documenting the histories of Ibaloi families in Baguio could provide an important facet of the development of the city from a sparsely populated Ibaloi settlement of farmlands and pasturelands amid pine forests to the bustling metropolis it is today. This chapter contains excerpts from the unpublished collection of stories by Sofia Olga Anton. She dedicates these to her dear grandchildren, Sydney, Emily and Jeremiah and Jeriah, and hopes that they will, one day, find some pleasure and wonderment in reading about their roots. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 31 Muyot “Muyot” M Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton. uyot was the original name of the mountain village where we were born as were my mother’s family. At one time, Muyot was part of the town of Tuba. That was before Baguio was chartered. With the re-zoning and boundary realignments of the municipalities near Baguio, part of Muyot got incorporated into Gumatdang, a barrio of Itogon. The western part of Muyot is now part of Baguio and still retains its name. 32 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being This village is a cluster of piney foothills that ascend to the western mountaintops that rim the city above, Baguio. A river comes down from the northwestern range where the village of Balatan, now known as Happy Hollow, is situated. Several brooks come down between the cleavages of the hills and the mountains. Up from the brook and river embankments, rice terraces were built by my ancestors on my mother’s side. Pura was our grandmother Casumei’s grandfather. Pura and his siblings, Macay and Cavingkot, practically built Muyot. Whenever they found a water source, they built rice paddies. Pura had two children, both girls, Sepa and Intogay. On a hillside, my grandmother Casumei built her house. As her children grew and got married, a few more houses were added. Auntie Arida’s house is on the west of the old house. Uncle Nacnac’s is to the east and Ma’s is right above. Of Lelang’s children, Tamesa is the one who didn’t live there after being married. She followed her husband, Sagued, to Loakan, his own birthplace. Auntie Marcela inherited Lelang’s house, she being the youngest. When I was a child, these were the only houses on our hill, except for Uncle Balsho’s house above ours, who later moved to Mohiyat. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 33 Casumei and Ating (Ingosan) I really like their names, but more important, I really loved them very much. Casumei and Ating were my grandparents on my mother’s side. Casumei was the only surviving child of Quehoy, also known as Lamsis Carantes, and Intogay (sometimes called Kurab, meaning blind). She had a younger brother who died before he was a toddler. It has been said that there was some kind of epidemic and Casumei could have died too were it not for the quickmindedness of her cousin, Sagueb. Casumei was then a few years old, and Sagueb’s child Ellen was a baby. Sagueb then decided to flee Muyot during the epidemic. She carried Ellen on her back, and carried Casumei on her shoulders, and fled to Tuding to avoid the epidemic. She walked, for there were no vehicles then. It was an uphill trek, over hills, across brooks and rivers. Sagueb’s husband had relatives in Tuding where they stayed until they deemed it safe to return to Muyot. Casumei was a splendid woman. She was regal in bearing and there was a no-nonsense aura about here. She was tall, broad shouldered, and straight as a rod. She was as strong as she looked. The right word I can think of to describe her is matriarchal. Her word was usually the last word. She was the most hardworking person in her household. I’ve never seen her idle nor have I ever seen her sick until she underwent an operation, which eventually caused her death. 34 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Our house was 200 meters above Lelong’s and Lelang’s house. Every time I got a chance, I walked down to their house—to eat or just to be fussed over and pampered. Up to when I was five or six, they had two separate houses: one was the main house, and the other the kitchen house. The kitchen house had a thatched roof. It was the kitchen, the dining room and the rice storage as well. When Auntie Marcela got married, Lelong and Lelang used the kitchen house as their sleeping quarters. Lelang had a wooden bed in one corner and Lelong had a cot bed in another corner. It was tight quarters but we all had a great time then. In the middle of the room was their portable fireplace called bintuan. This bintuan was made of a tin basin “Bintuan” Oil painting by Sofia Olga filled with sand and soil, Anton and voilà, you could build a fire. I have the fondest memories of this bintuan. We usually had dinner before dark. You see, there was no electricity then. Right after supper, Lelong would start getting the kindling wood called saleng ready for the fireplace. When we children saw him doing this, we would in no time be gathered around the fireplace. Lelong would entertain us with stories and riddles while he roasted camote or corn or whatever was in season or available. I can picture him quite clearly now even though that was some 60 years or so ago. He is sitting right on the floor, his knees almost up to his chin, his ankles crossed over, his hand holding his pipe and he puffs on that pipe as tranquilly as ever. Lelang smoked too, and at this time would also be doing her pedped and tobacco. Pedped is an aromatic bush whose leaves are like guava leaves. The leaves are dried and then rolled with Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 35 or without a piece of tobacco to be smoked. These are called shobdaan. Ating, also known as Ingosan Pacday, married Casumei Carantes and their children are Adela, Emilia, Nacnac, Teresa and Marcela. We called him Lelong, meaning grandfather. He was a slightly built man, faircomplexioned, with bushy eyebrows and kind eyes. He had the kindest eyes I have ever seen. Lelong was the baby sitter for us kids while the women folk went to the ricefields or to the uma, patches of cleared and tilled hillsides or mountain slopes planted to root crops, bananas, corn, papayas, pineapple, or whatever else can grow. There were Hilaria, Maclin, I, Aleris, Brenda, and the younger kids: Johnson, Nenet, Boysie, and Bel. So there was usually a baby at his back, and another straddled at his hip, maybe yet another on the other hip. “Guara’y nan eba, nan-akpi, nan-akguwal, nanbavangi.” That is how he was with kids. He made tops and slings for the boys. He had other chores to do, too. First thing in the morning, he fetched water to fill the water jar (kalamba), which by the way still exists today. The water in that jar was cold and refreshing. That kalamba was there before I was born so it must be at least 60 years old. I’m 59 as I write this, so it is indeed an antique piece. It’s at home now in Baguio. I saw it just lying around under Uncle Nacnac’s house four years ago and I asked why they were not using it. Calimbay said the water had a funny taste and smell. I brought it home and is now part of my antique collection. Another early task of Lelong was to take out the carabao to pasture. A carabao was a prized possession. It was the work animal for the rice fields. Lelong took very good care of it. At midday, he would give the carabao water or at least move it where it could drink water. In the afternooon, Lelong would go get it and bring it near his house. This 36 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being was the time we usually went with Lelong so we could get a ride on the carabao. That was a treat for the day. Lelong’s and Lelang’s lives were closely tied to their land. It was their main source of livelihood. Year in and year out it was a cycle of planting and harvesting rice and other activities were planned and done against this framework. There were two major planting seasons. The early season would start in June or July to be harvested in October or November. The late and dry season would start in December or January and be read for harvesting in April or May. Lelong took care of the carabao, a few cows, some chicken, and dogs. Lelang had her pigs, too. The menfolk also found some time to do some gold mining and panning, and Lelang did the “cooking” of the gold. Some of my cousins still do gold panning. Anyway, back to rice planting, Lelong and Uncle Nacnac, and even Dad got the fields ready. Lelang and the women first did the seeding. Then the men harrowed the fields with the help of the carabao. They fixed the irrigation so that the paddies would fill with water, and then they harrowed again until the soil was smoothly muddy. In the meantime, the women helped restore the embankment of the paddies so that the water would be conserved in each paddy. They strengthened the embankment by adding fresh mud that would later dry and become firm. We call this teneng. By that time, the seedlings would be ready to be planted. Lelang set the best day for planting by consulting the position of the moon. She then announced the day so that neighbors and relatives would come and help plant the rice. It was hard work, but it was also a form of socializing. Lunchtime was the highlight of the day. It gave everybody a little time to rest and to catch up on bits of gossip and whatnots, bantering and tall story telling. More people came on the first day of planting. One or two did the uprooting of the seedlings. Children could do the distribution of the bundles of seedlings. All the others lined Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 37 up sideways, a meter or so apart, and planted two or three seedlings firmly into the mud. They were barefoot and sometimes there were leeches, so there was always some tobacco around to help remove the leeches that might stick to one’s skin. A month or so after the planting, there was weeding to do (kamas). This was mostly done by Lelang and her children and maybe a few other relatives. When the rice began to fill out, it was Lelong’s time to set up the gadgets and scarecrows to drive the birds away. It was one of the fun jobs we shared with Lelong. We had fun jingling the ropes to which cans were tied to make noise to scare the birds away. Lelong also made slings for us and we tried to outdo one another to hit the birds. We set traps for the birds, and when we caught any, we barbecued them— yummy, yummy. Lelong built a shack called abolan, which served as headquarters to do the task of shooing away the birds, where he could do baby sitting as well, and where he could pile and bundle the rice harvested by the women. The people who came to help plant also came to help harvest. After Lelong bundled up the stalks of rice, he assigned what each would bring home as her share of the harvest. The rest of the rice was brought home. We did not have to buy rice then. Our own harvest was enough to feed us from season to season. They planted the rice, weeded, cared for them, and harvested them. They dried them under the sun and over the cooking fire, when it was raining. Then they pounded the rice. Pounding rice was a task we did not enjoy, but we did so because we had to. There was a wooden trough made from a big log called desong. It was used for the first round of pounding. Here, the rice husks and chaffs were roughly removed. Winnowing came next. We scooped the pounded rice into a shallow, round and wide basket called diga-o, where the process called ta-ep was done. With both hands, we held the middle rim and tossed the rice into the 38 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being air slightly but just allowing for the chaff to be blown away from the diga-o, but catching the rice back into it. When most of the chaff had been removed, the second pounding was done to refine the rice. It was done in the baju-an, a deeper trestle made from a wood trunk. Nowadays it is easier to make it out of cement and mortar. This time, the chaff is finer and this is saved for pig food. This fine chaff is called toyo. Voilà! The rice is ready to be cooked whenever it is time. Rice to fill a dangaja, a deeper basket was the normal amount at any one pounding job. The dangaja could contain 20–25 pounds of rice, which would normally last a week and the cycle of pounding would begin. When company was expected or when there was a feast or religious ceremony, rice pounding would take long hours, and require several hands. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 39 Gold Panning L elang Casumei had all the land that provided them their staples, but they needed money for other things. Lelang made some money from the pigs she raised but the real money came from gold. On the season off from planting and harvesting, my old folks did some gold panning. The men did prospecting and sampling by digging rocks by the riverbanks or by the hillsides. They crushed the rocks manually by hammering them into as little pieces as possible. Later on they used a ballmill to crush the rocks. The little pieces of rocks were ground manually on the flat surface of a big rock. A stone was used to grind the pieces into sand. The sand was then sieved through a homemade wire sifter. That was to separate the finer sand from the coarse ore that had to go back through the process of grinding and sifting. After the grinding and sieving, the fine sand was put in a shallow basin and the process of separating the gold from the sand began in the process called sayo. This was usually done by the riverside, stream or brook. Water was poured on the basin of sand, and a gentle shaking of the basin ensued, gently and slowly, while the water was drained from the pan. This was repeated several times and, amazingly, the yellow or orange colored particles of gold conglomerated on one side of the pan. The gold was then put in a separate container, a glass jar or a bowl. The rest of the sand was not thrown away. It went through many 40 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being cycles of panning, while there was still evidence of gold particles. Then came the most delicate process of refining the gold by fire. I must have been 10 the last time I witnessed Lelang cooking the gold. A few things were needed for the process: charcoal, clay saucers, blowers or fan, mercury, tongs, weight and measures, and the gold particles. My grandmother would get the charcoal red hot like we would when barbecuing. She did this in the kitchen house or on the ground under the house. On the ground, she used three good-sized rocks that served as a stand for the clay saucer. She put the gold particles on the saucer; put the saucer over the fire. When the gold melted, she put a few drops of mercury. She then removed the saucer from the fire and let it cool a bit. And as it cooled, the gold solidified and other foreign matter was separated from the gold. I have always been awed by this process. It seemed like magic then. Whenever Lelang was cooking gold, she didn’t want anyone around to be talking or sneezing, or else the gold could turn out to be fool’s gold or could even disappear altogether. This explains why she preferred to do this late in the evening when the children were not around and no nosy neighbors might be lingering. I had heard them tell stories about how the gold sometimes disappeared. It seemed like superstition, but I think it’s quite rational. When someone sneezed as the saucer was perched on the stones, it could get upset and the motion could then throw the gold into the burning coal, and the gold might seem to disappear. But who knows? I don’t question the beliefs of my old folks. Some may be exaggerations, but there is always some grain of truth in them too. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 41 Ghosts A nn and I were talking about ghosts last night. She said she didn’t believe in ghosts until one experience in Muyot, when she went there with Nita. They were in the kitchen. Ann was standing by the stove when she heard some grunting and sighing. She said the sighing was more of contentment as when the belly is full and satisfied. She thought it was a pig and asked, “So you have a pig?” Calimbay answered, “No, it’s the one that lives there” (Afil, hatan sota nan-baliy shitan), meaning it was the ghost that lives there. Regarding the ghost that Ann heard, it seems that the ghost had a special liking for brown sugar. Every now and then, Nacnac and Calimbay would notice how dramatically their brown sugar would dip unusually low. So when someone says, “Aishi moan dai asucal,” they mean “the ghost has been dipping into the jar of brown sugar again.” It could have been the ghost of Lelang or Lelong or of our sister who died when she was about two years old. Here name was Lida. She was adopted by Lolong James and Lola Cansoya but they returned her when she was so sick. She finally died and was buried by our old house. Lelong and Lelang were buried under their house but later when Uncle Nacnac performed the keshew and the sedpang, they dug out the bones and buried them under Nacnac’s house. 42 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Years ago when Lelong was still alive and Ann and Jun were toddlers, some woman lived in our house which was then unoccupied. She and her family rented Suwining’s rice fields and planted them to vegetables. I don’t remember her name but I think she was from Kapangan or Tublay. Anyhow, she didn’t stay in our house for long. She kept seeing in reality and in her dreams a young and beautiful girl. Ma had an old folding spring bed. I think that was the first bed they bought. Later they had other beds made and they put the old spring bed in the third bedroom, which Jone used. The room was also used as the sewing room when Jone was not there. Well, this room was what the woman used. She related that one time, she dreamt of this beautiful young girl sitting on the spring bed. The girl asked her, “Why are you using my bed?” The woman was really alarmed. She said that sometimes she would get a glimpse of the young girl even when she was fully awake. Lelong performed a little cañao while the woman was still living in our house. I myself didn’t go but Ma, Mart, Bel, Nita, Ann, and Jun went. I could not leave school, and besides, there were Arnel and Marnie in school, too. It is the custom and part of the religious ceremony that the family members gather around to eat first. Lelong and her grandchildren were all gathered around the ayag (food that had already been blessed and offered). The woman then said that she could see the young girl she had seen in our house amongst Lelong’s other grandchildren gathered around. By the way, the woman had never seen Mart until that day. When she saw Mart there at Lelong’s house, she said that the girl in here dreams looked very much like Mart—fair, red-lipped with long hair. At that time, Mart too, had long hair. Mart was around 18 then and Lida would have been 24. That was really strange. It took an outsider and a comparative stranger to see Lida where every one hadn’t. It is true though that there are a few people who can see ghosts. The woman did not stay long in our house. She Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 43 and her family built a shack in the land they were renting from Suwining. Other people who had lived in our house were relatives and they all felt the presence of a ghost but they were not frightened and they did not mind. The ghost did not show itself to them. I guess it knows its own relatives and is happy with the situation. The house has been empty for years except for occasional visits when anyone of us might go to a cañao or wedding or any social affair. Violeta and Nover lived there until they built their own house. Nita and Greg also lived there for a while until they moved to Tomasa’s old houses in Shontog. Lelong had always told us not to be afraid of ghosts but rather of the living. He used to say that ghosts do no harm, but the living would. How true it is, indeed. When we were kids, we loved hearing stories from Lelong and Lelang about ghosts. I can’t recall more of them off hand. 44 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Pongo T here was this often-told tale about the pongo. Once in a while, when I was a kid, we would hear a strange bird sound that went “pongo—pongo—pongo.” It seemed almost like a wail. It almost always came from the brooks or the river. It always happened at twilight time or at night. I have never seen the creature and I’ve been told that no one has either but I’m pretty sure that we must have seen the bird though we didn’t know it was the one making the pongo sound. So people called this heard-but-not-seen creature pongo. I haven’t heard the pongo since I was a little girl. I don’t know if they still hear it nowadays. Sometimes, Lelang would try to scare me into sleeping early by saying, “Mai pongo; ka-en pong-pongo. Maukip kita et.” (There’s the pongo; it’s keeps on wailing. We better go to sleep.) And then I would clamor for her to tell me about the pongo even if I had heard it many times before. The pongo was supposedly a wicked woman who had been turned into a strange creature. The woman was cruel and selfish. One day, a stranger stopped at her house and asked for a drink of water for he was very tired and thirsty from traveling far. The woman scorned him, didn’t give him anything to drink or to eat. The stranger went on his way and presently, the selfish woman turned into a pongo. This creature is always thirsty and that is why it goes up and down the riverbanks. Everytime the pongo reaches the water’s edge, the water disappears or rather flows down and away from her and the pongo cannot catch any to Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 45 drink. Sometimes, she even removes her divet or wraparound skirt, so she could fling it at the water to get soaked, but when she reels it back to her, she finds that it has dried. That is when it makes the wailing sound—“Pongo…” It is almost like “Woe on me…” The creature follows the water in vain. That was here punishment for not giving drink to the thirsty stranger. There are probably other versions of this folktale, but this is what I remember. So, what’s the lesson? Give drink to the thirsty; be charitable. Now this brings to mind that my grandparents and my parents as well as my other relatives are always hospitable to people who come or pass by our house. Whenever people stop by, they are welcome to any refreshments or food that we have. 46 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Snakes L iving on the hillsides where brooks are everywhere and where the undergrowth can be quite lush or dry, it is only natural that snakes are a part of the environment. But I would like to write about some weird instances where snakes appeared to be the ghosts or the temporary reincarnation of our dead. Snakes can terrify, but early on, we’ve been told that if we leave them alone, they won’t harm us or won’t come back and do their vengeance on us in some other way. I went home to Muyot in January 1998 to attend Manching’s kedot: keshew and sedpang. They dug out the bones of Dofino and Savel; dressed them up and gave them the things they supposedly need: money, clothes, tools and animals. I went by myself. I stopped by Uncle Nacnac’s house to visit with Johnson who, by the way, is bedridden. I brought him some socks and towels and a blanket. He said his feet and legs get terribly cold. I also brought him some goodies and cigarettes. He was the only one left in the whole compound. Everybody was at Manching’s house up on the hill. Anyhow, I decided to go and start climbing the hill as it was getting late in the afternoon. When I went out of the house and was right in front of Auntie Marcela’s house, I saw Marcela, Alfredo, and their grandkids coming up the pathway. I then stopped to wait for them. While waiting thus, Uncle Nacnac, Calimbay, Arida, Nita, Lourdes, and Nita’s kids also arrived from Manching’s Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 47 house. They all came home to feed Johnson, their pigs and dogs and to lock up their houses before they went back to the cañao. We all converged in front of Marcela’s house. While we were talking, we also noticed the grass moving and heard some crackling noise right in front of us in what we call the ba-eng (a sloping front yard in this case). Lourdes went to check, looked down, and thought is was a chicken. A few seconds went by and we heard the same sound and the grass started moving and actually parting. Lo and behold, a snake came out in the open. It was fairly big—the size of my wrist—and at least 2–3 feet long. It slid into the pathway, went down a few more yards and disappeared into the grass. Well, for a moment, nobody said a word. Finally, Nita said it was the same snake they often see. She said, “It’s the one that lives there”—meaning a ghost. She further added that it must have come out to meet us and greet us since it has been some time that we were all together in Marcela’s house, which used to be Lelang’s and Lelong’s house. I am not about to dispute the claim that it could have been either Lelong or Lelang or any of our dead come to greet us. It may be true. In fact, I like to think so. Then their stories about other instances came pouring out. Marcela related how one day when she came home from the payew (rice field), where she had been weeding, she found a snake trying to climb one of the posts of the house. This was after she had repaired the old house from the earthquake damage of 1990. The snake seemed to be looking for a way to get into the house. Auntie Marcela then murmured some prayers like “pangnga-asi yo… kay-uli hayo nem tuwa i edafu-an jo; no sih’kam itan tatang o no sih’kam itan nanang, egjo hami tah’tah’koten. Pang-gavgavay jo hami sai ensukshuhey i biag me; egsha hajo ngo depdepkan.” (Please go away, whoever you are and wherever you came from, please go and leave us in peace. If that be you, father, or if that be you, mother, please don’t frighten us, help us instead to be healthy so 48 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being we may live long; we always think of you.) She poured some water on the ground as she was murmuring her prayers. And what do you know? The snake got off the post and found its way into the grassy slope, the same spot we had just seen one. Strange, huh? But it is true. Ma had the old house repaired. Andoy and Uncle Nacnac did the repairs. One morning when they were going to resume the repairs they started, they found a snake curled up on a chair. They left the snake alone. They just told themselves, “Hadjay suta nanbalei shiyay.” (This is the one the lives here.) So they just went about their work— hammering and what not. For three days, the snake just contentedly curled up in the same chair. They didn’t bother it; it didn’t bother them. On the fourth day they were going to work, the snake was nowhere to be found. What about that? Whosoever’s spirit it was knew that what was being done was for the betterment of the house. They couldn’t pinpoint who it might be—nobody can—but it can be Lida or Jone or any of our dead relatives. Most likely, it had been Lelong because when he was alive, he would have been sitting on the chair while Andoy and Uncle worked. He would have been telling them to do this or that. Of course the snake was just a plain regular snake needing to curl up some place. The only thing is that any plain snake would have been frightened away by the noise resulting from the work. But the snake just snuggly stayed put on the chair, I imagine, sleeping most of the time or just sleepily watching Uncle and Andoy. Anyway, when the repairs were done, Ma had a little ceremony called diyaw (house blessing). The usual prayers were invoked: blessings of grace, of health, of wealth of long life, and peace in the household and for all the family and relatives. Then there’s another thing about the star apple trees. There are three of those trees Jone planted when he lived with us. The star apple trees bear so much fruit but nobody dares to climb them, not even the children. You see, a snake supposedly lives in those trees, especially in the big middle tree. They don’t see the snake too often; only when the Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 49 trees are laden with fruit. So nobody climbs the trees. They either wait for the fruit to fall or use a pole to get the fruit. Now, one can argue that there is a natural, logical explanation for this which I suppose there is. It could be a perfect spot for a snake’s habitat; it could be just coincidence. But really, how come it is the star apple tree when there are many other trees nearby? There are jackfruit trees, mango trees, papaya trees, pines, chesa trees, brushes and hedges. There is even a banaba tree where the snake might feel more comfortable. It’s just like why would a snake curl up on a chair and not budge in spite of the racket going on around it? When I was nine or 10, and Lelang was still well, Ma found a snake in her kayabang (basket carried on the back with a belt that holds basket and looped on the carrier’s head). We had a detached dirty kitchen (avong), where we used to cook the pigs’ food and where some baskets and tools were kept. The cooking grill was right on the ground (shah’polan). Early in the morning when Ma went to build the fire to cook the pigs’ food (timol), she saw a snake curled up in her kayabang. She was startled, of course, but she managed to gently shoo away the snake. She called Lelang, who did the madmad (invocations). In many instances, such a case is interpreted as a harbinger of good luck (kasat). But still, a snake is still a snake and it should not be treated lightly. My cousin Nenit (Marciana) and her husband used to work the fields of their grandmother, Catalina, in Camp 7. They had a daughter at that time. She was just over a year old. They used to bring her with them to the fields where they worked. They usually laid her under the shade as they worked. The baby fell asleep so they kept working. The next time they checked on her, they saw a snake curled up next to her. I guess Fred’s fright turned to rage. He struck the snake with his hoe (cabjun) ferociously. He hacked the snake to pieces and flung them as he was swearing violently. They inspected every inch of their baby to see if she might have been bitten but she wasn’t. They were so relieved. A 50 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being few days later, the baby got sick. They took her to the doctor who treated her for the fever. A few days later, the baby died. Ma said that Fred should not have done what he did to the snake. I don’t fault Fred. Anybody’s reaction could have been the same. His first instinct was to protect his daughter and that is a natural reflex. But what Ma said is that he should not have hit the snake repeatedly and should not have flung it with the nasty words he had used. Ma says that the snake had taken its revenge. In that respect, snakes are evil. In that respect, they can never be taken lightly. Now this is the story about a similar incident that happened to Nita and Greg and their baby girl. They were then living in Tomasa’s old house in Shontog which Ma and Dad had bought. The little house stands surrounded by the rice paddies. In fact, it is on one of the rice paddies. Nita and Greg planted them to vegetables, which they were then tending to that day. They left the baby asleep in the house. They were close enough so they could hear her when she would awake or cry. Greg went inside for a drink of water and to look in on the baby. To his horror, he saw a snake near the baby’s bed. Again, a father’s reaction was to protect his child. Greg killed the snake by clubbing it. But where Fred cut the snake into pieces and flung them, Greg and Nita buried the snake in intoned prayers as well. Thank God they were all right. The baby wasn’t harmed nor did she get sick later. Gigi is now a beautiful girl. Again, there are logical explanations. Or there could be other interpretations. I leave that to you. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 51 Shalshal “Shalshal, 50+ years ago” Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton. S halshal is the original name of what is now better known as Kitma Place or Village. It is really Bakakeng Central. Shalshal is the other half of our roots. It is where Dad’s forebears have lived and died. This is where we live. Shalshal lies in the southern part of Baguio City. South of Shalshal is Bengao. East of Bengao is Bakakeng Norte. East of Bakakeng is Pias and a bit farther is Shekdan (Camp 7). Farther east of Camp 7 is Loakan. Then below the mountains in Loakan lies Muyot. Northwest of Bakakeng is Sarok. Southwest of Shalshal is Balakbak. On the west is Atab and farther west is Tuba. 52 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being I have to mention all these places because these are the places where my ancestors and my relatives have lived for centuries. You can be sure to find relatives if you go to any of these places. By the way, on both sides of the family, there are relatives in the other parts of the city like Guisad, Old Lucban, New Lucban, Pacdal, Irisan, and even in the next town, La Trinidad. The clans have become intertwined even more deeply because of the inter-marriage of relatives. So you might be a cousin on my mother’s side and also my cousin on my father’s side. I spent most of my childhood years in Muyot but I also spent many weekends, Christmas vacations, and many summers in Shalshal when I was a youngster. I stayed with Daddy James and Cansoya. James was the brother of Katubing, Dad’s father. I would go with Cansoya to the uma in Balangavang to plant yams or to dig them up for pig food. She always had pigs to raise. Sometimes I would go with her to town to do some marketing and, of course, if there was a cañao going on, they would take me along. Once or twice a week, Sonny and Toledo would go to town to collect the trashed leftover food from the restaurant. I believe it was Star Café. Sometimes they would let me go with them. We used to get sacks of stale bread for pig food. But the three of us kept the better pieces of bread, and in the morning or in the evening when we would be cooking the pig food, we had fun toasting the bread over the fire. We skewered the pieces of bread on sticks and held them over the fire till they got toasty and we enjoyed and savored them. We had fun doing this. If James or Cansoya had seen us doing this, they would have scolded us and would not have allowed us to save the stale bread from the pigs and eat it ourselves. But that’s the way with kids. They find joy in unexpected places and situations. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being “Shalshal, 50+ years ago” 53 Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton. After supper, Daddy James would try to initiate what we called a little program. He would ask us to sing or recite a poem. Toledo never did either. Sonny seldom did, and so, who do you think ended up doing one or the other? I did. I learned a few rhymes and songs from Ma, or from Auntie Marcela or from James himself. So Cansoya would say to Sonny and Toledo, “avak shahedjo en Olga, ket eg-pay la-eng man iscueda.” (Olga can beat you even if she isn’t in school yet.) You see it was then a big deal for me to be able to sing “Twinkle twinkle little star” or to recite “The Owl,” my favorite recitation piece. Hilarious, huh? But you see, we had no TV then, not even a radio. So for entertainment, we read, we listened to stories, jokes, and riddles. We played many kinds of games. There was the classic hide-and-seek. We played kick the can, ring around the rosie, hopscotch, marbles, tops, tatsing, and other improptu games we could think of. But it was fun. There were very few houses in Shalshal. On the Baday property there were James’, Ramona’s and Anton’s houses. On the hill above was Tiwing (Aloysius) Kiwas’ house. On the hill to the west were the Kitma houses. On the hills to 54 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being the north were the Pucay clan houses. On the hill to the east and across the river, were the Parisas clan’s houses: Binsay, Babay, Lelai, and Emily. Farther down south were the houses of Pasi and Veronica Okubo. Houses were far between. At that time, the properties were bigger for they remained with the families from one generation to the next. But, of course, the families grew and properties were subdivided to provide for new family additions. Then, much later, land was sold here and there, and so today, there is a congestion and houses are just a few meters apart instead of miles apart like when I was a kid. Apology I wrote these little stories years ago. I was rambling and I put down only those that came to mind at that time. Now as I’m reading them I realize that I might be slighting many relatives for many omissions. I would like to apologize for such. I never intended to slight any party. I only intended to present a general and casual view of our roots for my grandchildren so they will have some sense of identity and belonging in this fast-changing universe. God willing and with the help of numberous relatives, we may come up with a more comprehensive and a more scholarly thesis of our genealogy and Ibaloi heritage. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 55 CHAPTER THREE PROBLEMS AND HOPES OF THE BAGUIO IBALOIS TODAY BY JILL CARIÑO 56 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Land and Housing I t is without a doubt that the situation and wellbeing of the Baguio Ibalois today is a far cry from what it was before the coming of the colonizers a century ago. The contrast is most stark in the issue of ancestral land rights. From a position of ownership and control over vast land holdings by their ancestors, many of the descendants of the original Ibaloi families of Baguio today have little or no land left to call their own. This situation is primarily due to the declaration of Ibaloi lands as government reservations and public lands as early as the American colonial regime. The American colonizers grabbed lands in the early 1900s through the declaration of the Baguio Townsite Reservation, for the purpose of the construction of Baguio City as a summer capital and a rest and recreation haven for American forces. Developments quickly followed according to Architect Daniel Burnham’s plan for Baguio City, displacing Ibaloi families from their lands, homes and livelihoods. These include the setting up of the John Hay Air Base in Ypit and Lubas, the Demonstration Mines, airport and Philippine Military Academy in Kias and Loakan, the Baguio City Hall, Baguio Central School, Burnham Park in Kafagway, the Baguio Dairy Farm in Chuyo, and many others. A later development under the Marcos administration was the carving out of the Baguio City Export Processing Zone in Loakan. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 57 Other prime lots were donated by the Ibalois to the city for the purpose of constructing public buildings like public schools, public auditorium, as a contribution to the development of the city. For instance, the lands of Mateo Cariño in Kafagway, which happened to be where the Americans wanted to set up the city center and Burnham Park, were either declared as public land or donated by the Cariño’s to the city government. Kafagway From the collection of Jack Cariño. In addition, the colonial government imposed a new system of titling of private lands through the Torrens title. This paved the way for the sale of lands by the city government to outsiders as a means to raise revenues for the development of Baguio City. It was the “in” thing then to own a lot or a vacation house in Baguio. Thus, many rich families from Manila including Zobel, Legarda, Caballero, Palma, Roces, Earnshaw, Roxas and Romulo families acquired titles over prime real estate lots in the City. 1 The proceeds of these sales were used in the construction of roads, government buildings and other infrastructure in the city. Meanwhile, the Ibalois were slowly pushed into selling their remaining private land as a source of income and means for survival. Many Ibaloi families around Baguio sold lots to land developers who converted the land into subdivisions and sold smaller lots to migrant settlers. Other 1 Boquiren 2008, 80. 58 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being lots were sold to institutions that set up schools, churches, convents, housing projects and other structures. Until today, this trend of selling land continues, as there is no let-up in the influx of migrants wanting to own a piece of land and to set up a house or a business in Baguio. Some Ibalois have been able to keep hold of some of the land they inherited and have invested money in building their own houses. It is common to find an old Ibaloi ancestral home surrounded by newer structures built by family relatives within the same home lot. Others have converted their homes into apartments or boarding houses and earn income by renting these out to migrants, transients or students in the city. Such is the case in Loakan, where hundreds of workers of the Baguio City Export Processing Zone have settled and rent rooms from Ibaloi home owners. In Pinsao, you have the Coral, a wide lot rented out by the Ibaloi Woolrey family as a place to hold weddings, reunions, camps and other gatherings. However, many of the younger generation of Ibalois in the city no longer have any land to their name. They usually reside with their parents, other relatives, in houses of their spouses or in-laws, or rent a place to stay, just like other settlers in the city. Some Ibalois are already looking to buy land in the city or renting a place to stay within the city. Meanwhile, the process of perfecting their papers and titles as proof of ownership of their land is still very much an unending pursuit for the Ibaloi. They feel it is very important to have their papers in order, as proof or evidence of their legal ownership to prevent others from claiming their land. Various state instruments of land tenure such as Torrens titles, approved survey plans and tax declarations are held dear and carefully safeguarded. Yet until today, some Ibalois still do not have legal documents or titles perfected or registered with the Register of Deeds. Since 1990, new instruments for the recognition of ancestral lands were opened by the state through DENR DAO 2 and later the Indigenous Peoples Rights Act (IPRA). The Ibalois applied for CALCs (Certificate of Ancestral Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 59 Land Claims) using DAO 2, then CALTs (Certificate of Ancestral Land Titles) using the IPRA, completing the voluminous requirements and religiously following up their claims in the NCIP (National Commission on Indigenous Peoples) over several years. However, claiming of ancestral lands by the Ibaloi through applications for CALC, CALT and CADT (Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title) using the IPRA has proven tortuous and frustrating. Worse, some Ibaloi families have been duped out of their claims, while others have had their lands issued to bogus claimants by the NCIP in exchange for money or a piece of the land. Ibalois are treated shabbily and with disrespect by nonIbaloi personnel of NCIP-Baguio, who make them wait for long hours or dismiss them by saying that there is no budget for the processing of ancestral land claims. They say that CADT applications are the priority since this is the one that has the budget. Following up ancestral land claims in the NCIP is a time-consuming and difficult process that has proven unsuccessful for majority of the Ibaloi claimants. Thus, disillusionment is the prevailing sentiment over the hopes raised for recognition of ancestral land with the enactment of the IPRA. Squatting by migrant settlers is also very much a problem for the Ibalois, who feel that they are at the losing end. Squatters without any legal papers to the land just go ahead and build their houses even without building permits, while Ibalois are given the run-around in the processing of their papers over lands, which they already own. The Ibaloi ethos of being peace-loving, passive, generous and accommodating, is often mentioned as a reason why some Ibaloi landowners have lost their land to squatters. But in many cases, squatting is tolerated or even encouraged by politicians in power. A Baguio Congressman reportedly said, “Apay maid labi?” (Why is there no night?), meaning they can do what they like under cover of darkness.2 Thus, squatters’ shanties often sprout like mushrooms overnight, whether in public reservations or private lands. Illegal occupation of ancestral lands by organized squatters 60 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being syndicates has also become bolder and even violent during recent years as competition for land in Baguio heightens. Another major factor in the squatting problem in the city is the declaration of resettlement areas by politicians who prioritized their relatives, kakailian and political supporters, instead of the actual occupants, in the awarding of public lands through Townsite Sales Applications and Miscellaneous Sales Applications. In addition, graft and corruption in the awarding of Townsite Sales Applications is rife, giving favor to moneyed, though unqualified, applicants. Land in the city is being used as an instrument of patronage politics, wherein traditional politicians gain votes by offering or facilitating land applications of migrant settlers and urban poor, who now far outnumber the Ibalois. It is a fervent hope of the Ibalois that their rights to their ancestral land be fully recognized. Instead of being treated like beggars in the processing of their land claims, they hope to be treated with dignity as the original land owners, whose ancestral land rights pre-date even the city charter. By virtue of the doctrine of native title, all privates lands held as such prior to the coming of the colonizers are presumed to have been private since time immemorial. As stated in the US Supreme Court decision written by Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in the case of Cariño vs. the Insular government: …when, as far back as testimony or memory goes, that land has been held by individuals under a claim of private ownership, it will be presumed to have been held in the same way from before the Spanish conquest, AND NEVER TO HAVE BEEN PUBLIC LAND.3 The basis for this doctrine, the case of Cariño vs. Insular government over Camp John Hay, is found in Baguio itself. The application of the doctrine of native title could not be more appropriate than in the recognition of the land rights 2 3 Interview with Vetrino Macay. Cariño 2008. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 61 of the Baguio Ibalois. Sad to say, this decision of the US Supreme Court has never been implemented. Camp John Hay has since passed hands from the American colonial government to the Philippine government, and finally to private developers Fil-Estate and Ayala Corporation. The descendants of the original Ibaloi owners of the land where Camp John Hay now stands are still seeking recognition and justice until today. While the Baguio Ibalois admit that they have already sold much of their land, they still hope that those lands grabbed from them illegally, fraudulently, forcibly or deceitfully, as in the case of government reservations, should be returned to them in restitution for the historical violation of their rights to their ancestral land ever since the American colonial period. Furthermore, it is a common sentiment expressed by the Ibalois that the present NCIP-Baguio personnel are not doing their jobs and should be changed to those who understand the history of the city. They want the NCIP to treat Baguio Ibaloi claimants respectfully and fairly, not as though they are a nuisance or as though their claims or rights are inferior to those of other indigenous peoples. NCIP commissioners and employees who are involved in graft and corrupt practices, such as asking for a percentage, millions of pesos or hectares of land in exchange for the processing and approval of CALT and CADT applications, should be removed from office and should be administratively and criminally charged. References Boquiren, Rowena Reyes. 2008. “The Nature of the Land Problem in Baguio City.” In: Ti Daga ket Biag Land is Life. Baguio City: Cordillera Peoples Alliance. Cariño, Joanna. 2008. The Mateo Cariño & Bayosa Ortega Story: A Case Study of the Dispossession of the Native Ibaloi in Baguio City. Paper presented at the Baguio Land Conference, University of the Philippines Baguio, Philippines, 28-29 August. 62 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being PCommunities olitical Division of Large Ibaloi and Lack of Representation in Baguio Politics B efore the coming of the colonizers, the Ibalois reigned supreme over their own communities, practicing their own indigenous systems of governance and democracy. The tongtong was a system of democratic consultation and consensus-building practiced among the elders of the community. Mutual concern and support prevailed among the inter-related network of Ibaloi families, who helped each other in community and domestic concerns. A number of baknang (rich) families exerted their leadership over the community and provided for the holding of occasional prestige feasts as an opportunity to gather together and feed the people. During the final years of the Spanish colonial regime until the early years of American colonial government, Ibaloi leaders were given positions of authority befitting their stature in the local governance structures of Baguio. Ibaloi leader Mateo Cariño became a “Cabecilla” and community headman under the Spanish government. When General Emilio Aguinaldo established the Philippine Republic, Mateo Cariño became the captain of the Igorot forces and was appointed president of the town of Baguio. He, however, declined the position and delegated the position to his eldest son, Sioco Cariño.1 Sioco Cariño served as president for the township of Baguio for many years and was the unofficial advisor of 1 Gutierrez, ed. 1955, 13. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 63 the Baguio government for nearly 40 years. During the early years of independence under the Republic of the Philippines, another Ibaloi, Dr. Jose Maria Cariño, was appointed as the first city mayor of Baguio by President Roxas. He assumed office from July 30, 1946 to April 11, 1950. However, he was the first and last Ibaloi mayor of Baguio. For a long time since then until recent times, no Ibaloi has been elected to any position in the city government. Councilor Leandro Cariño was appointed councilor in the City Council on September 17, 1959 and served as city councilor during the 1960s.2 However, since then until today, Ibalois have found little space in the highest levels of governance in the city. Atty. Jose Molintas and Isabelo Cosalan are the only two Ibalois who were able to make it as councilors of the city during the recent 2004 and 2007 elections respectively. In 2010, Atty. Peter Fianza was elected into the City Council and Isabelo Cosalan was reelected. Besides them, no other Ibaloi has held an elective position in the city government. Even at the barangay level, Ibalois are almost invisible, except in the few barangays where Ibalois are concentrated. As of 2009, only at least three of the 128 barangays in the city had Ibaloi barangay captains. These were in the barangays of Camp 7 (Marvin Binay-an), Irisan, and Loakan. Only a small number of barangay kawagads in the whole city were Ibalois. In the old Charter of Baguio of 1909, there is a provision for the formation of an Igorot Advisory Council to be composed of traditional leaders and elders in Baguio. This body is supposed to be consulted by the City Council on affairs of the city. However, this Igorot advisory council has never been convened during the 100 years that the Baguio Charter has been in effect. It remains a paper provision that has never been implemented. 2 Ibid, 274. 64 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being The minoritization of the Ibalois in Baguio is a result of the rapid in-migration of outsiders into the city in search of work, education and a place to call home. The attraction of Baguio as a tourist, education, commercial and government center serves as a magnet for migrant settlers coming from different parts all over the country. Today, migrant settlers far outnumber the native Ibalois in the estimated 300,000 population of the city. Thus, Ibalois are at a disadvantage numerically when it comes to ethnic votes during elections. However, the marginalization of the Ibalois in the political scene of Baguio is not simply a consequence of their minoritization in terms of numbers in population. It is also a result of conscious political maneuvers and gerrymandering by the city’s administrators who took moves to break up large Ibaloi communities. During the term of Mayor Luis Lardizabal, he divided Loakan into five barangays. Bakakeng, which used to be one whole Ibaloi settlement has also been divided into five puroks. Ibalois have since become a minority in these different barangays and puroks. Likewise in Irisan, Ibalois in each of the 33 puroks can be counted on the fingers of one hand. It is therefore not surprising that a wish expressed by the Ibalois during our conversations with them is that they be given a voice in the political affairs of the city. As much as possible and at the very least, there should be an Ibaloi representative in the city government. At best, they said, the mayor of the City of Baguio should be an Ibaloi. Reference Gutierrez, ed. 1955. Memoirs of Baguio. Baguio City: Summer Capital Publishing House. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 65 Loss of Traditional Livelihoods, Language, Changing Cultural Traditions I t is a sad fact that traditional Ibaloi culture is fast fading and the history in Baguio as an original Ibaloi settlement is not well known. If not for the efforts of Ibalois themselves, many of the present populace and even leadership of the city would hardly know the history and roots of Baguio. It is a positive development that during the recent centennial celebration of the Baguio as a chartered city, a number of Ibaloi leaders were among those recognized as Builders of Baguio. Traditional livelihoods of the Ibalois such as farming, hunting and gathering, cattle livestock and poultry raising, gold panning, fishing, stone picking and masonry have now given way to daily-wage cash-earning occupations. Jobs are hard to find in the city where there is cut-throat competition in the labor market. Por dia or daily-wage odd jobs are the usual livelihood of many Ibalois today, while others are fortunate enough to have regular salary-earning jobs that require an education and/or skills. In a city with a population of 300,000, these jobs are hard to come by. Thus, many have also sought work outside in Manila, other provinces and abroad. Others who have lost their farmlands in Baguio have bought farms in the lowlands to till. The Ibaloi language in Baguio is fading as fewer and fewer people speak it as a mother tongue. Children of mixed Ibaloi and non-Ibaloi parentage do not speak the language as they are usually brought up speaking Ilocano, English, 66 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being Tagalog or the language of the non-Ibaloi parent. Only a few Ibalois of Baguio, mostly in their 50s and above, still speak the language. This fact is not a fault of the younger generation who are sometimes made to feel inadequate, ashamed or guilty for not knowing how to speak Ibaloi. Rather, it is a real and alarming trend that needs to be recognized and reversed among the Baguio Ibalois today. Most young Ibalois were never given the opportunity to learn the language at home or in social gatherings such as the traditional kedot that are now rarely held. Even original Ibaloi place names in Baguio are being forgotten as new names are given by migrant settlers and the government. Few know that Bakakeng is made up of Shal-shal (an area was prone to landslides, hence was named Shal-shal, an Ibaloi term that means easily eroded), Balengavang , Sarok, Bengaw, Des-ang, Tihing, Dalshi and Muting. Or that Loakan was once Duakan that covered the areas of Camp 7 until Ngalngal. Burnham Park used to be known as Kafagway and the City Hall area was called Apdi before the American architect Daniel Burnham designed the city. Today, the Baguio Ibalois have to go through great lengths to continue to practice their traditional religion. A central figure in Ibaloi religion is the mambunong, a priestess who serves as a medium of communication between the living and the spirits of dead ancestors. When a person gets sick, the mambunong performs rituals and prayers to appease the spirits. She prescribes that certain rituals be performed for various illnesses or misfortunes and presides over marriage, death, and other religious rituals. She is looked at as a very powerful person and so people have to follow her instructions in order not to risk displeasing the spirits of their ancestors and for them to get well from illness or misfortune. If they do not follow these rituals, they fear that something bad may happen to them. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 67 Even while some express disbelief or irreverence of the mambunong, they do not deny the efficacy of her power. However, Ibalois who have been converted to Christian religions now consider traditional Ibaloi rituals as pagan and are prohibited by their churches from performing such. Moreover, the powers and prescriptions of the mambunong are now often denigrated as superstitious beliefs beliefs. Not just anybody can become a mambunong. The powers of a mambunong are said to be inherited from an ancestor who was also a mambunong. A mambunong becomes one only after having experienced and survived extremely severe illness or hardship. Such was the experience of Jane Wallang-Lucio, 64 years old, of Camp 7, Baguio City, (as well as another mambunong, the mother of Anton Baday of Bakakeng) who became very sick and grew very thin without the doctor finding anything wrong with her. She got well only after being taught what to do through her dreams by her grandmother, who was also a mambunong. However, these days, people have expressed regret that there are hardly any mambunong left. There are only perhaps one or two mambunong left in Baguio, which is why some Ibalois resort to inviting mambunong from other areas when they need the services of one. Or in the absence of a mambunong, they rely on their elders for guidance on how to conduct the traditional rituals. The practice of traditional Ibaloi rituals in case of illness or death are believed to be very effective based on the experience of the people. People have been known to get well miraculously after performing the necessary rituals. This is why Ibaloi families, particularly those who still practice the culture taught to them by their grandparents and parents, make it a point to follow the rituals prescribed by their elders and the mambunong, in times of illness, during the wake, after burial and other occasions. They butcher the specified number of pigs and feed the community in the performance of the cañao, distributing pieces of pig’s meat to the clan members. Expenses entailed in the performance of the cañao for the butchering of 68 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being animals and other rituals are considerable, which is why families sometimes sell their property, land or borrow money just to be able to perform the necessary rituals. The mambunong herself performs her duties with selfless sacrifice because she feels it is a responsibility that was passed on to her by her ancestors and she will suffer if she does not practice what she was taught. She also often performs multiple roles—as a hilot and mansih’bok (who determines the causes of illnesses, loss or other cases). She is not paid for her work, although she receives meat from the butchered animals, which she also offers to the spirits. She is fortunate if the people who asked for her services give her money to cover her expenses for transportation. She should always be ready to be called at anytime even at night when somebody is dying. Burial of the dead in the public cemetery is done according to a traditional system of zoning where areas in the cemetery are specified for burying the young, the old, those who committed suicide, or those who suffered a violent death. Some Ibaloi families also bury their dead in the backyard of the ancestral home. For the baknang, a horse is usually butchered on the last day of the wake, which is believed to carry the dead man’s spirit to where he belongs. After several years, the bones of the dead may be dug up, wrapped in a traditional death blanket and transferred to another burial place or kept under the house, where they belong. This is usually accompanied by the performance of the necessary rituals and butchering the specified number of pigs. Today, the public cemetery in Loakan has been taken over by the tombs of migrant settlers and by a private memorial, Heaven’s Garden. The bones of the original Ibaloi settlers have, gradually through the years, been transferred from the cemetery, according to the traditional practice of transferring the bones of dead relatives. In Bakakeng, the public cemetery is also being increasingly overrun by squatters and migrant settlers. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 69 Holding a kedot or cañao is a surefire way of bringing the Ibalois together. As they say, “Nu tuay kad-an ni asok, tuay daguan jo.” (Where there is smoke, that is where you go.) Everyone is welcome to join the cañao and partake of the meat and food that is prepared. These occasions serve as a venue for story telling, getting to know your relatives, chanting the ba-diw and dancing the tayao, playing the instruments, and speaking the language. Thus the cañao serves as an opportunity for the Ibalois of Baguio to gather together to recall their culture and sense of identity. These occasions are highly valued by the different clans as a chance to meet their relatives and mingle or socialize with other Ibalois. However, the cañao is now rarely held because of the considerable expenses entailed for holding such, with the people having to buy animals and rice after losing their rice fields and pasturelands. It is also now hard to find a mambunong or priestess to conduct and preside over the rituals. These are factors in the diminishing practice of traditional Ibaloi culture and knowledge. It is an Ibaloi belief that dancing the tayao and playing the instruments solibao, kalsa and tiktik are sacred and done only during special or specific occasions such as a cañao. This is usually accompanied by the butchering of pigs as an offering to the spirits of the dead ancestors. Playing the instruments and dancing the tayao without a proper reason or purpose is frowned upon by the elders because it is believed to call upon the spirits of the dead and may displease them. This is the reason why not many of the younger generations of Ibalois today know how to play the kalsa, solibao, tiktik, dance the tayao, or chant the ba-diw. Even on the rare occasions when the tayao is held during a cañao, priority is given to the older and prominent people to dance and play, according to a hierarchy or order defined by tradition. The oldest and most prominent individuals are called to dance first, followed by the younger and less 70 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being prominent ones. Oftentimes, the blanket never gets passed to the younger generations, especially if there are many elders, personages or government officials around. Thus, there is little opportunity for the younger Ibalois to dance and learn or practice dancing the tayao or playing the instruments. The knowledge and skills of these traditional art forms hardly get transferred from the old to the young ones and are now in danger of being lost. The ba-diw is an Ibaloi chant, which is a prayer at the same time a form of story-telling that is usually done by the old men and women during social gatherings. The chant is composed extemporaneously by the chanter and affirmed by the rest of the people through a chorus called the asvayat. Chanting the ba-diw is a talent that is much admired by others and is a way of imparting important messages and wisdom to the listeners and the community people. Today, the senior citizens of Muyot and Bakakeng who usually gather regularly in fellowship, chant the badiw as a form of entertainment and for telling stories among themselves. It heartening to know that there is now a growing effort to rekindle Ibaloi culture, learn the language, and find opportunities to come together to learn and transmit Ibaloi knowledge to the younger generation. It is an expressed wish among the Ibalois that they be given more opportunities to unite and gather together, to tell stories, chant the ba-diw and reminisce, to dance the tayao and play the kalsa and solibao, and teach their children and grandchildren about the traditional Ibaloi practices and values of solidarity and mutual support. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 71 Initiatives of the Baguio Ibalois Today G oing around the Ibaloi homes and communities in Baguio, we encountered various efforts and initiatives to revive, relive and recall the Ibaloi culture and rectify past injustices committed against the Ibalois in many different ways. We also learned of earlier attempts to unite the Ibalois through setting up their organizations that would help them process their ancestral land claims. Aspulan, Inc. is an organization of Ibalois in Baguio and Benguet, which was incorporated and registered with the Securities and Exchange Commission on August 4, 2004. This was just a little more than a year after it started as an assembly of cooperating Baguio Ibalois who were worried that if they, as Ibalois, do not get together, they would continue to lose their ancestral lands. They also feared that because of this, their kin would continue going away or leaving the hometown, thereby dissipating the clans and communities. They were concerned about the continued deterioration of their values and culture as Ibalois, especially in Baguio, and that their children did not even know their relatives anymore and were intermarrying without even knowing they were related. They were greatly concerned that their original unities and organizations in the early 1990s, when the government allowed a window for them to reclaim and document their ancestral lands, had turned sour and had instead further divided their ranks. They were deeply frustrated and helpless as the government continued 72 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being to deny them the recognition and the rights to their lands and domain. In the organizational assembly of Aspulan, more than 60 Ibalois enlisted their membership and elected their officers headed by Peter Cosalan, Philip Canuto and Atty. Andres Carantes. A priority identified by the organization was to help each other in gaining the government’s recognition and titling of their ancestral lands. This was the time that ancestral land processing and titling for Baguio was put on hold by the NCIP. Aspulan volunteered and drew up a resolution to assist NCIP in delineating and processing their claims and even spent for meetings with the NCIP. The efforts of Aspulan sort of died down and have still to bear fruit in terms of actual CALTs issued and registered. The organization has not been as active during recent years and it has fallen on the actual claimants to follow up their claims at the NCIP until its final registration at the Register of Deeds. Other organizations that have been formed to follow up ancestral land claims are the Baguio Benguet Ancestral Land Claimants, Inc. (BBALCI) and the Heirs of Mateo Cariño and Bayosa Ortega Foundation (HMCBOFI). Another initiative worthy of praise and emulation is the Chiva ni Doakan or Center for Ibaloi Heritage and Loakan History. The Chiva envisions Ibalois and Loakan residents as knowledgeable and proud of their heritage, through documentation and education about the Ibaloi heritage of the Young Ibalois of the CHIVA (Center for Ibaloi Heritage and Loakan History). Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 73 Loakan community. An early activity was the collection of photographs and memorabilia from the Ibaloi families in Loakan, and presenting these in a community exhibit. Presently, the Chiva is busy training the young Ibalois of Loakan how to play the Ibaloi rhythm on the gongs and the drums, and how to dance the tayao. This effort is being supported by the National Commission on Culture and the Arts. 1 A recent intitiative is the Diwdiway ni Pinsao, that organized a series of workshops resulting in the setting up of a mini museum of Ibaloi artifacts, pictures, material culture in Tam-awan, Pinsao that was launched in December 2009. A traditional Ibaloi house has also been constructed in the site. This is an interesting place for Ibalois to visit and for the young ones to gather and learn about Ibaloi culture. Other individual initiatives directed at keeping the Ibaloi heritage alive include the publication of various articles in local newspapers, magazines, coffee table books and blogs. An annual publication is the Baguio Yearbook by Heritage Promotions, the media outfit of Jack Cariño and Chi Balmaceda-Gutierrez. The magazine is a superb collection of articles, photos, maps, and other interesting material that bring back early memories of Baguio and feature Baguio today in a new light—from the perspective of Baguio people who care and want to stop the uglification of the city. When visiting Ibaloi old-timers Anton and Emilia Baday in Kitma Village, we discovered the artistry and creativity of Sofia Anton Houston, an Ibaloi woman with origins in Muyot and Bakakeng. Sofia or Olga, as she is fondly called by family and friends, has written interesting stories of her recollections as a child and about family matters that vividly portray Ibaloi life and culture as she was growing up. She also started oil painting after her retirement as a school 1 Conversations with Vicky Macay. 74 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being teacher and has made numerous oil paintings of her favorite places, people and things, mostly from memory, that serve as snapshots of Ibaloi culture then and now. She has put together a handy guidebook to the Ibaloi language, in the hope of teaching her grandchildren and other young Ibalois to speak the language that is now in danger of slowly dying out. The Handy Guidebook to the Ibaloi Language was recently published by the Philippine Task Force for Indigenous Peoples Rights and Tebtebba as a contribution towards reviving the Ibaloi language. In August 2008, a Baguio Land Conference was organized by the Cordillera Peoples Alliance, UP Baguio Cordillera Studies Center and Tongtongan ti Umili with the support of Tebtebba and the Baguio City Council Committees on Laws and Lands. It was attended by key representatives of peoples organizations, NGOs, the academe and government officials. The conference was instrumental in educating the public and bringing to the attention of Baguio officials and leaders the issue of Ibaloi ancestral land claims in Baguio. The conference came up with various resolutions, among which was to conduct thorough studies towards arriving at a solution to the Baguio land problem and to work for the recognition and promotion of Ibaloi indigenous culture. This conference led some Ibaloi leaders to lobby the city council to recognize the important role and contribution of the Ibalois in the development of the city. This sustained lobby campaign was successful in getting a symbolic recognition of the Ibalois from the city government, if not total restitution. As a consequence of the lobby, two city council ordinances were passed, setting aside an area of Burnham Park as Ibaloi Heritage Park and declaring February 23 of each year as Ibaloi Day. February 23, 1909 is the date of the decision by the US Supreme Court in the case of Cariño vs. Insular government that established the doctrine of native title or the recognition of private ownership by the Baguio Ibalois of their ancestral lands since time immemorial. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 75 Celebration of First Ibaloi Day, Feb. 23, 2010 at Ibaloi Heritage Park in Burnham. February 23, 2010 was a historic day for the Baguio Ibalois as they celebrated the first-ever Ibaloi Day in Baguio, with the theme “Isimphet Tan Itakshel e Shayaw Tayo.” This event was a concerted and collective effort of the different Ibaloi clans to come together to remember their history and identity, practice their culture and rekindle their unity. Clans and individuals donated ceremonial pigs that were butchered and cooked in the traditional style. Demshang, kintoman, ava, dukto and tapey were passed around to feed the crowd, composed of old and young Ibalois coming in their kambal, devit or shenget, who had gathered at Kafagway (now known as Burnham Park) for the occasion. Ibalois beat the solibao, tiktik and kalsa and danced the tayao and bendian. Elders took turns telling stories and chanting the ba-diw. The different clans planted pine tree 76 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being seedlings around the park, which they intend to care for until these grow into tall pine trees symbolizing the continuity of their clan. A time capsule was buried in the park led by the Ibaloi elders to mark the beginning of the development of the area as an Ibaloi heritage site. The Handy Guidebook to the Ibaloi Language was launched and distributed to the Ibaloi clans present to encourage them to speak the language and teach it to the younger generation. A map of Baguio was put up containing the original Ibaloi place names and the new place names in the city for people to correct and add on what they know. The atmosphere of the affair was celebratory and felt just like the traditional kedot, with the program and other various activities going on and everyone just having a good time. It was a day to remember as the Baguio Ibalois, even then, already looked forward to celebrating the next Ibaloi Days in the years to come. Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 77 About the Authors Sofia Olga Anton is a native Ibaloi of Baguio and Itogon. She is a recently-retired teacher, and has taken up writing and painting in her senior years. She authored the Handy Guidebook to the Ibaloi Language, published in 2010. Rose Camilo Calatan is an Ibaloi of Baguio and Kabayan. She belongs to the Mariano-Batil clan. She is a retired teacher and an advocate of sustaining the rich Ibaloi culture. Jill Cariño belongs to the Ibaloi Cariño clan of Baguio City. A long-time activist for indigenous peoples’ rights, she is presently the convenor of the Task Force on Indigenous Peoples Rights, a national network of NGOs advancing the cause of indigenous peoples. Gina Binayan-Kiswa belongs to the Coljan, Buyoc-Payat, Barot Binay-an and Baday clans. She resides in Bakakeng. Vicky Macay belongs to the Shakshahan-Batil clan of Loakan, Baguio City. She is an active leader in many Ibaloi and indigenous peoples’ organizations, including Loakan Farmers Association, Baguio-Benguet Indigenous Cultural Communities, Onjon ni Ivadoy, Aspulan and KASAPI (Katutubong Samahan sa Pilipinas). Roger Sinot belongs to the Cosdak and Dhankas clans in Baguio and Nangalisan. He is a businessman, and earlier served as government employee, OIC Barangay Captain and schoolteacher. He is president of Tadiangan Nangalisan Hydro Ancestral Landowners Association (TNHALA) and the Batuan Coplo Lumecneng Farmers Association (BCLFA). 78 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being 78 Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being