Are the Bago a tribe?

Recently, a researcher from the University of Asia and the Pacific contacted this keyboard puncher through the Internet to get his views on various issues about indigenous peoples. She got wind of my spirited musings when she came across the Ancestral Domain Sustainable Development and Protection Plan (ADSDPP)of the indigenous peoples of Bakun, Benguet. This writer happened to facilitate the formulation of the Bakun ADSDPP, and also edited the final output, which included the history of the place, an analysis of their situation at the time of the ADSDPP preparation (2004), and what the people foresaw to be the right way to manage their domain.

The Certificate of Ancestral Domain title (CADT) of Bakun was the first CADT issued in the Philippines. It was issued in the name of the Kankanaey-Bago tribe of Bakun, Benguet.

Pasrticularly intriguing to the researcher was the question on the identity of the Bago.

She notes the contention that ‘the Bago are actually “bagong tao,”’ and says that Prof. Nestor de Castro (U.P. Anthropology) said they aren’t really indigenous. (Prof. de Castro denies doing so. Please see comments on this post.)

This observation that the Bago are not indigenous is held by many, but this writer disagrees with the contention.

Indigenous peoples in the Philippines are precisely given that label now in recognition of the reality that in the long years of colonization by the Spaniards, they have become historically differentiated from the rest of the present Filipino people. That is, they have retained to a large extent the pre-colonial social, cultural and political systems while other inhabitants of these islands adopted the colonial influences of Spain. For many of these indigenous peoples, the distinction is rather pronounced, more so because the other Filipinos, mostly the lowland inhabitants, underlined the differentiation through various forms of discrimination.

The people of the Cordilleras are an example of the stark differentiation. The discrimination was not a one-way street, for the indigenous peoples themselves did not look kindly upon the non-indigenous. The differentiation is accepted by both sides, more so when the communities concerned are far apart and thus the differences are more pronounced. It thus was easier for those people high in the mountains of the Cordilleras to admit the differences, and readily acquiesce to a classification as indigenous peoples, or in older times, as “cultural communities”.

But such is not the case for their brethren in the foothills of the Cordilleras, particularly those near the provincial boundaries that tended to superimpose provincial identities to the people.

With the boundaries established in colonial and post-colonial times, identities of people tended to be associated with labels imposed by the colonial masters and government, as well as the generalistic classifications of academics.

Thus were born the Kankanaey, a term that is used to describe an ethnolinguistic group, or a group of communities that spoke a common language. The term has long been confused to mean a people, or a tribe, though this should not be the case. However, through long years of use, the term has acquired that meaning. Even official government classifications lists the Kankanaey as a ‘tribe.’ However, when we refer to a people as Kankanaey, we are merely implying that they speak a language labeled Kankanaey. The label was perhaps not meant to describe a people in the beginning, but since the term was applied by supposed experts in government and the academe, it became commonly used, and acquired its “tribal” or “people” meanings.

The boundaries drawn in Spanish and Americal colonial times and maintained by the post-colonial governments were however arbitrarily drawn, and did not reflect the classifications and differentiation of indigenous people from the non-indigenous population. Thus Kankanaey-speaking people were included in Benguet, Mountain Province, and the Ilocos provinces.

Those in the Cordilleras were identified as Igorots, an identity that they eventually came to proudly champion, even though the term had its derogatory meanings. The Kankanaey speaking population of the Cordillera foothills, but were included in the Ilocos political subdivisions, were at a loss, for they were not Ilocanos. At the same time, their identity as Kankanaey-speaking people was somehow subverted by their being politically divorced from the other Kankanaeys.

The discrimination against Igorots in the lowland provinces perhaps made them deny their affinity with the ‘Igorots’ or Kanakanaeys. This situation of belonging neither to the Kankanaey ethnolinguistic group or the Ilocano speakers gave rise to the term Bago. The Ilocanos referred to them as such, and so did their erstwhile brethren in the Cordilleras.

From the point of view of Igorots, the Bagos are those Kanakanaeys in the lowlands, not really identifying them as distinct and separate people, but merely for the accident of being on the wrong side of a boundary line.

What confuses the issue even more is that the term “Bago” has been used to refer to migrants to the Bago communities, even if these migrants were originally known to be Igorots. Further, the term has been used to refer to other indigenous communities in the foothills of the Cordillera, not only to Kankanaey-speaking people, but also Isnegs, Kalinga, Ifugao, Tingguian, Ibaloi, or of mixed ancestry.

Through time, the term became commonly used, and the people the term referred to came to accept it as their identity.

The Bago as used in Bakun is a peculiarity in itself. The Bago come from barangay Bagu in that municipality, so called because they were nearer to the Ilocos than to the other villages in Bakun. (in fact up to now the village accessible only by passing through the lowlands.) so they were more identified with the “Bago” and their barangay named so.

With this background, the people referred to as Bago are indigenous people, in the sense that they indeed have retained much of the pre-colonial systems, language included. They are also known to practice cultures very similar to the other Kankanaey-speaking people higher in the Cordillera mountains.

However, this spirited thinker argues that the term Bago should not be used as the equivalent of Kankanaey (an appropriate term for an ethnolinguistic group). The Bagos are also Kankanaey-speaking, and thus should be included in that ethno-linguistic group.

The question of their identification of themselves as Bago should, on the other hand, not be questioned. After all, self-ascription and ascription by others is the accepted measure of identity as a people. If the Igorots and Ilocanos continue to refer them as Bagos, and they themselves ascribe to that name, then that identity is properly theirs.

 

In defense of “extravagant” ritual feasts

The indigenous peoples of the Cordilleras invariably perform several rituals in the life cycle of an individual, from pregnancy until death, and most of the time even after death.

These rituals for the most part involve the slaughter of sacrificial animals, or what may be more appropriately called ritual animals. The type and number of ritual animals depends largely on the ritual itself, and the social status of the family for whom the ritual is performed. Thus a single chicken might suffice, or the ritual might involve the slaughter of several pigs. Some communities would require the slaughter of carabaos, cows or bulls, horses, or dogs. Ritual celebrations might last for a few hours, a day, or several days. And because there are several animals butchered, the entire villages, as well as friends and relatives from neighboring villages, are invited to partake of the feast.

(Photo: A carabao is prepared for cutting up prior to a wedding in Baguio.)

(Photo: Butchering one of two carabaos slaughtered.)

(Photo: Separating the meat to be distributed to those who participated during the slaughter.)

There are a variety of reasons for these ritual feasts. One of the most popularly known are celebrations of indigenous weddings. In many parts of Mountain Province, these weddings are scheduled during particular months of the year, mostly when there is a lull in the activities of the rice agricultural cycle. The reason for this schedule is that the village people would not be unduly disturbed when the wedding feasts are performed. For the same reason, the weddings were performed all at once, together. It was not uncommon to have more than a dozen couples wed at the same time, with celebrations on-going at different houses of a village, and gongs-a-plenty being played in melodious cacophony when several couples wed are neighbors.

The number of ritual animals prescribed as necessary for weddings were the same, and it involved feasts before, during and after the actual wedding. And since no animals are butchered for no ritual reason, this number may not be added to, so that the amount of meat may actually not be enough if the guests to the feast are many. However, if the meat cut up into small pieces still do not suffice, the guests would be as content to sip the stew or soup, and would be just as content in their participation. It was not an uncommon occurrence, since the pigs bred in earlier times were really small, and took several years to mature. The chickens were the same. Even if several pigs and chickens were slaughtered according to the rituals performed, there might not be enough for the assembled guests, and thus while it remains a feast, it would not be a feast of unnecessary extravagance, as indeed nothing is wasted, and sometimes the meat is not enough.

In latter times, this might have changed, since the pigs that we have now grow to gigantic sizes, and so the meat from a single pig now would exceed the meat from five pigs of the traditional variety. The number of required ritual animals have however remained the same, so that the amount of meat now available during feasts has significantly increased. Often, therefore, these ritual ceremonies truly satisfy the meaning of a “feast” in the sense that there is abundance of culinary delights. With our absorption of foreign influences, these feasts now include other delicacies as cakes and salads of all kinds, pasta preparations, candy, and many other purchasable whatnots to tickle our discriminating palates.

Many communities have also lifted the prohibition on the slaughter of animals more than those required by the rituals, so that in many cases, the hosts of these ritual feasts would butcher several more animals than ritually required.

These present-day realities might be the reason why there are more and more people who say that the old ritual ceremonies and the requirement of ritual animals are unnecessarily extravagant. Critics of traditional feasts say that these rituals unnecessarily strain the economic resources of those hosting the rituals, that these hosts are better off investing their resources rather than “wasting” these in “extravagant” feasts.

What is conveniently forgotten by these critics is that ritual feasts traditionally were graduated, that is, the number of ritual animals varies according to the social standing of the hosts, and with those relatively well-off expected to slaughter more, according to their status.  In a way, it was the communities’ way of redistributing wealth among the villagers, for the lesser-off are expected to slaughter less animals for the same ritual. Further, these rituals do not happen only at the behest of the hosts, but as an affirmation of the hosts’ belongingness to the community. It becomes their social obligation, and the rest of the community are expected to help in whatever way they can, either by “lending” mature animals, by helping in the preparations, and assisting in the different tasks during the ceremonies. In many rituals, too, people quite naturally help out by donating to the hosts, either in the form of their labor, rice and other foodstuffs, or by donating ritual animals. These donations are regulated only by the villagers’ ability to extend help and certainly not mandatory. Thus the ritual feasts are actually a culmination of the oneness of the community.

The success of a feast is more aptly measured by the cohesion and mutual-help systems of the village, and the number of guests during the feast.

(Photo: Part of the more than a thousand guests at the Baguio wedding.)

In weddings and wakes, guests are allowed to give donations in many forms. Of course, in older times, these were in the form of rice and other food, their physical labor and presence during the festivities, ritual animals, wine, and most anything else that might be needed. It encouraged the mutual-help systems that existed in those times. Family relations also figure prominently, with relatives, no matter how far removed, chipping in whatever they can to help.

Current times have not diminished the feeling of community and family relations in indigenous feasts. Rather, because we have become more affluent as we engaged in non-traditional economic endeavors, the gifts we give during these feasts have also gained affluence. Instead of the traditional rice and foodstuffs we donated to each other, the availability of cash has many of us giving cash donations during special feasts. It is arrogant for any of us to refuse whatever help our guests give us, for these guests are merely affirming their belongingness to the community, or our relations with them, or both. It is their way of saying that they are one with us.

With all the donations that our guests and the members of the family and community readily share, it is but natural that newly-weds, for instance, would not scrimp on the preparations, and provide the community with a feast worthy of their being counted as members of that same community.

The mutual-help systems, while they yet exist, are the reasons why our feasts continue to be relevant and practicable. When we lose these systems, then indeed feasts like the ones we hold now would really strain the economic resources of hosts, and would become truly unnecessarily extravagant.

Of course, critics of indigenous feasts might base their notions on their acquired religious biases, but that is another story.

 

Kite flying

December has always been the windy season in the central villages of Sagada, Mountain Province. For this reason, December naturally became the season for kite flying.

In earlier times, children’s activities consisted mostly of playing with toys that they themselves make, and of games that made use of whatever is available in the locality. In the case of kites, the materials for making them were not readily available until the community absorbed many foreign influences. When people started using paper, and when strings and threads became more available, people learned to make kites.

At the time of my generation’s childhood in the late sixties and early seventies, even these materials were not so common. Threads were available, but these were bought for use in sewing and making clothes. To use the material for such frivolities as childhood pastimes were not encouraged, and indeed many a child has tasted a whipping for using his mother’s long-treasured roll of yarn or thread for kite flying.

Paper was also rather rare, for these were also bought, and since there was not so much cash in the community, it was both wasteful and pretentious to use paper extravagantly. The paper available in those times was mostly limited to the paper from books, and certainly the people frowned upon the destruction of these reading materials, rare as they were and truly valuable for the knowledge they contained. Even magazines were treasured then, and even the non-literate members of the population valued these, for the pictures and the unplumbed wisdom they contained.

Newspapers were also hard to come by, as these were only bought in Baguio City, a full day’s travel though rough roads and rickety buses. Not all those who came from the city were keen on buying newspapers, too. Even if they did, the paper, once read many times over, had other uses than for the making of childhood toys. The paper was reserved for wrapping tobacco in the handmade cigarettes that smokers rolled then, or wrapping goods for storage, or used as wrapping paper by storeowners, or used for cleaning the soiled posterior after moving one’s bowels.

Before these precious materials became common in Sagada, kids had other toys than kites, and amused themselves otherwise than kite flying. It is safe to assume that making and flying kites was introduced by the people who introduced paper to the locality.

How kites were actually introduced was before my time. However, in my childhood, December was already the time for making and flying kites.

There were two basic designs in the kites that we made, one of which was shaped like an elongated diamond, and the other was a half circle with a pointed top. The frames of the kites were made from any of the many varieties of bamboo or woody grasses in the locality, for bamboo strips were both pliable and light. Even then, the material was also not so common, for even bamboo and the stems of other woody grasses had more important uses like the weaving of baskets or for tying bundles of the rice harvest. The alternative was the coconut leaf stalks used in stick brooms.

Yet even stick brooms, called “tingting” in Tagalog, were not so common, for these were also bought, and thus valuable.

So it was that the children in that previous time had to find materials for the frame, either taken from their father’s store of weaving or tying material, or from the family broom. Either way, it was considered an unnecessary waste.

Then they had to look for paper to paste around the frame. The preferred paper was newsprint from newspapers, for these were sufficiently wide. They dug around their homes looking for these, and waited for grownups to finish reading the rare newspapers before taking these, with or without permission, to paper their kite frames. Those whose parents regularly bought newspapers and therefore had abundant supply of such a precious resource traded these for other childhood treasures.

It was not uncommon that a child known to have a stash of newspapers would suddenly have many friends during kite season.

Cooked rice was used to paste the paper to the frame, and to connect the customary “tail” of the kite, consisting of long strips of precious paper. A rule of thumb in the use of cooked rice was not to use fried rice, for it is oily, and the oil reduces the adhesive capacity of the starch found in the rice.

Kite makers also had to find ways to spirit the rice away under the watchful eyes of their parents, for rice was also precious.

Perhaps rarest in the materials were the rolls of thread or string used to fly the kites.

Fortunately for my brothers and I, our mother was a knitting Mom. She knitted sweaters and crocheted blankets, so she almost always had a roll of yarn around. She also bought unrolled surplus threads and strings that we were conscripted to untangle and to wind into rolls for her knitting. We therefore had the chance to separate the stronger and lighter threads, which we rolled for our kites.

Other kids sometimes had to unravel clothes for strings, or to filch the precious store-bought rolls of thread from their homes.

After going through the trouble of gathering materials and making the kites, we children also had to find time to fly them. Going to school and our household chores did not give us much time to play, so we had to do with stolen moments to fly kites made out of materials stolen from our homes.

There was a community water source found on a windy ridge in the village, and it was the kids whose chore it was to fetch water. Late afternoon was the busiest time for fetching water, with long lines of containers to be filled in the watering place. For kite flyers, the longer the line, the better. For kite flyers, the weaker the trickle of water, the better. For then it means that we had a longer time to fly our kites.

Even after our water containers were filled, we just set these aside and flew our kites, only taking the water home when it became dark. Our excuse for taking so long was that the lines were long and the water flow was weak.

It was heady to see kites so far up in the sky, and if a particular kite flew better than ours, we often lent our rolls of string to the owner so that his kite will fly higher, and we take turns flying it. Sometimes, when it became dark, we tie the kite string to a tree, and see if it will continue flying until morning.

The kite does not keep flying. It sometimes dives to the ground, and the long strings that we have filched would get tangled in the trees and bushes. The strings also sometimes break, and the kite would fly off to the farther trees.

At the end of a good kite-flying day, we lose the strings, and we lose the kite. Then we once again gather the precious material to make other kites.

The fun of kite flying always erased the tongue-lashing and whipping we got for wasting our homes’ precious paper and string, or for our delayed completion of our daily chores.