|
By Pura Rebite,
From the Communication and Information Division of Haribon
Foundation
When I first arrived in Sitio
Sta. Martha in Palauig, Zambales, the Project Manager of the
European Commission-funded Golden Forests advised that I just
observe the daily routine of its residents, the Aetas. The usual
approach of a Community Organizer (CO) is to attempt a conversation
with everyone in the community whenever the opportunity arises.
However, I did find it a little challenging to integrate with the
elders because most of them seldom speak Tagalog like the younger
residents. As the night came, I was wondering if my host family
shared the same anticipation I felt regarding having a complete
stranger sleep with them. As an initiative to get to know my host
family better, even if seemingly not the technical or traditional
way to gather background information, I asked the father if he would
like to have a drink with me. In response, he asked me how many
bottles of beer I could drink. As we started, other male Aetas came
by and joined us. We talked about nearly everything under the sun,
and contrary to the perception that Indigenous Peoples (IPs) are
conservative, I was shocked to find they were more than open to talk
about certain issues like sex! However, I knew that the coming days
would allow me to explore much deeper issues about how the
indigenous culture is coping with the changing face of our
environment.
The next day I was awaken by the
noise of pans and plates from our neighbor’s kitchen, perhaps
going about their early morning routine before heading out to do
their gasak (slash-and-burn) activities. By 8 a.m., I noticed that
my host family has yet to eat breakfast, so I asked the father and
he replied that he was not able to gather food the day before. He
stated the reality that they often starve. I looked around and
keenly observed the family, especially the two kids, but neither one
seemed to show any manifestation of hunger. I had only packed food
that would last me three days, and by past 9 a.m., I had felt a
twinge of pain in my stomach which seemed to be growling for my
packed food. I decided to open my backpack and started to pull out
canned goods as my host family’s children carefully watched me,
and together we rummaged inside my bag for food.
In the days to come, I observed
further the community’s activities and witnessed even more
realities of a tribal settlement. Planting rice is their main
livelihood, along with doing gasak in the mountains. I had the
opportunity to join them in planting rice, a skill of which I
absolutely lack. One farmer asked me if I would be able to bear the
smell of murky water and submerging my feet in thick mud. And like
an eager child, I nodded with a grin. The experience must have been
stranger to them than it was for me, for it is not ordinary for them
to teach a lowlander how to farm. I asked them to watch me closely
because I sincerely wanted to ensure that what I had planted would
grow and more importantly, I wanted to experience first-hand the
value and effort of farmers just to feed the mouths of Filipinos who
depend on rice. Intermittently, as we basked in the sun, bended and
plotting rice in the soil, the chieftain would lead the carabao
under a shade. I curiously asked why he had to do that, he smiled
back and stated, “The animal gets tired just like us, he needs to
rest as well.”
One day i saw the group of men
gather around the chieftain’s house with bolos (a sack of rice),
and escopetas (pistols), while the younger ones wrapped a rope
around the carabao. Again, my curiosity was triggered and I
approached one of the males and jokingly asked “Manong papunta ba
kayo sa digmaan?” [Sir, are you on your way to war?]. He smiled
and gestured me to join them. I then learned that the chieftain is
organizing a bayanihan to start a gasak in the mountain, which was
approximately an hour away by foot from the community. As we walked
towards the mountains, a convoy of trucks passed us, and a sudden
explosion of dust particles mixed with black smoke emission covered
our visibility and nearly suffocated us. It was evident that mining
operations in the mountains were active.
When we were doing the activity
of the gasak, I noticed that nearby, the women were preparing our
lunch. Its was the perfect site for cooking—the spring provided
water, plenty of buho (bamboo) around, and the large old tree gave
shade for them while they cooked. Not far, the animals grazed the
grassland. I was amazed by their cooking techniques, employing their
indigenous knowledge of utilizing the buho to cook rice and boil
water for coffee. Within the vicinity as well, the children were
busy searching for something under the rocks and I found out later
that they were catching fresh water eels.
As we were having lunch, I
complemented the excellent food as well as the childen who caught
the eels. I then asked how it felt to be the beneficiaries of the
generous abundance of the mountain. To my surprise, the rest of the
conversation around the table suddenly ceased, and there was
complete silence. Nobody wanted to talk, and in their culture, it is
one of the elders who is entitled to break such silence. He
recounted that the mountain which we were on is not the mountain
that they knew. They were previous inhabitants of Mt. Pinatubo, and
I sensed that even after 16 years since its eruption, their great
loss of the life they left, including tribal members who died, were
still painful to them. He said that their previous home was more
abundant and provided more than enough for them to live and survive.
I felt so disgruntled after he spoke, not because of the statement
itself, but for the effects and consequences of the eruption,
combined with other external factors like politics and economy, that
they have to deal with daily.
In retrospect, after my two weeks
of immersion in Sta. Marta, I have pondered about a question that I
had when I first arrived in the community. Was the way of life I
observed a potrayal of simplicity or poverty? I found it difficult
to distinguish between the two then, and also, maybe my attempt to
find justification to the hardships I witnessed muddled with
compassion towards them, which made it difficult for me to be
objective.
Since then, I have realized that
simplicity is profound and being poor is relative. For an Aeta,
eating root crops as a meal is sufficient, while those of us who can
afford to eat three times a day would never do without a nice bowl
of steamed rice. In economic terms, outsiders could easily derive on
the conclusion that the quality of life in Sta.Martha needs to be
developed. As a Community Organizer, one cannot jump to such simple
conclusions. Nothing exists simply by itself, and one’s standard
of living is definitely defined beyond by just what one eats or the
architecture of their house. The Aetas has a rich ancient culture,
religion and values—and these factors all come into play to
understanding who they are as people. As a CO, one must learn how to
explore the soft spot of the community—a point where they can
start to realize their potentials to create changes they want to see
in their community.
If you’d like to know more
or help Haribon Foundation’s widlife and nature conservation
projects, please visit www.haribon.org.ph or e-mail act@haribon.org.ph
|
