More on Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)

My Pinay friend, Joan, got interested as well about Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and she found out that one celebrity known to have suffered from it was Natalie Imbruglia! Salamat, kaayo for the info:-) By the way, SAD, a mood disorder, is also known as winter depression. Read more about it here.

One of the treatments given to 'SAD people' is light therapy using sun lamps. These are a special kind of lamps which are much brighter than the ordinary ones. For ellenmayjoyceasacla and for us (that includes me) who have never seen a sun lamp in our lives, here's how it looks like, thanks to a photo taken from Amazon:



And here's another one with a more contemporary design, courtesy of Wikipedia:

Perspectives

I'm totally convinced that our socio-cultural background largely determine the way we look at the world. Wow, what a serious statement to make, you might say:-) But here goes an interesting story from my friend Janice.

Janice attended a workshop about coping with the demands of postgrad studies recently. The presenter was a British professor and she started by asking the participants what made them sign-up for the workshop. 'What problems are you having right now?' she asked them. Janice didn't have a problem at all - she just wanted to know some techniques how she could cope better with the demands of postgrad work:-)

Near the end of the workshop, the presenter gave interesting suggestions for each of the participants. 'Hey Janice, you might want to buy a sun lamp if you miss the sunshine from your country,' she told my friend. By the way, Janice is Asian just like me. She thought that the professor may have had the idea that the British gloomy weather must be making her depressed! And then to another female participant, 'Why not take a trip to the Canary Islands?' It's a great place to spend your Christmas break.'



The Stonehenge against a gloomy December sky.


Janice and I were both almost down to our knees laughing when we met after her workshop. 'Why am I going to need a sun lamp?' she asked, her eyes almost filled with tears as she laughed. We found the whole idea of getting a sun lamp to ease depression totally ridiculous! Or so we thought.

Back in my flat, I shared Janice's little story with my young male British flatmate. I was relating this story to him in an amused way but he looked serious the whole time. Hmm, puzzling. And then he said, 'But there are people who do get depressed because of lack of sunlight.' He then said 'X (I'm not sure anymore) percent of the UK population are affected by seasonal affective disorder (SAD).'*** Ohhhh. I was speechless for two seconds. 'Wow, I didn't know that,' I told him rather lamely. Argg. Blame my ignorance. Or my being Filipino? I thought to myself.

The next day, Janice and I had an interesting talk about this whole sun lamp thing. We both agreed that although we come from a region where we have plenty of sunlight, we found it somewhat unthinkable that people could feel depressed with the weather. 'We have at least 26 typhoons a year in the Philippines but I haven't heard of anybody getting depressed because of the flooding and the rains,' I told her. Janice said, 'It's the same thing where I come from. I guess depression is not an Asian thing (maybe except in the more affluent parts of Asia).' Okay, maybe a good number of Pinoys do get depressed but I'm almost certain that bad weather is not the main reason for it:-)

And then we made the same observation of the Brits apologizing constantly about their weather, almost to a fault. Wow, I wonder how they'd feel if they get the chance to live in the Philippines, or worse, Bangladesh. Where I come from, heavy rains and strong winds are almost a daily companion for six months. But I rarely hear people apologize about it to visitors in the city. Maybe because there's little we can do about the weather...

***One in 50 people in the UK are affected by SAD.

The Breeze Blows West

It has been almost two months since I arrived here in Cardiff, Wales and I would still pause sometimes and ask myself, "What am I doing here?" A small university town (it's the capital city of Wales), Cardiff is so much like Baguio - small, friendly, charming. Except for the more challenging part of getting used to British and Welsh accents, I'm taking in all these rather new experience like an eight-year-old about to fly a kite for the first time. I'm somewhat anxious yet excited, a bit timid but determined.



Cardiff University's main building


Now that I'm here, I guess I won't be able to write much about my main interests, Cordi people and culture. Ironically, it's because of these same interests that I'm here - to research on ethnicity and identity in the media. Amusing, huh?

But I'd certainly try to write about fellow Pinoys who are working and studying here. I've already met some of them and I was deeply touched by their warmth and hospitality. Iba pa rin ang Pinoy:-)

So I guess this blog will take on a different flavor for the coming several months. I hope to chronicle new learnings, fresh perspectives and interesting characters in my new adventure. So little time, so much to learn:-) I fully agree with the following quote:

What is important is to keep learning, to enjoy challenge, and to tolerate ambiguity. In the end there are no certain answers.

Martina Horner, President of Radcliffe College

Neruda's 'Too Many Names'

Pablo Neruda (1904-73)

Monday entangles itself with Tuesday
and the week with the year:
time cannot be severed
with your weary shears,
and all the names of the day
the water of night clears.


No man can call himself Peter,
no woman Rose or Mary,
we are all sand or dust,
we are all rain in the rain.
They have told me of Venezuelas,
Paraguays and Chiles,
I don’t know what they’re talking about:
I know the skin of the Earth
and I know that it has no name.


When I lived among roots
they delighted me more than flowers,
and when I talked to a stone
it echoed like a bell.


It is so slow the spring
that lasts the winter long:
time has lost his shoes:
one year’s four centuries.


When I go to sleep each night
what am I called, not called?
And when I wake up, who am I
if it wasn’t ‘I’ who was sleeping?


This is to say that as soon as we
are thrust out into life,
that we come newly born,
that our mouths are not filled
with all these dubious names,
with all these mournful labels,
with all these meaningless letters,
with all this ‘yours’ and ‘mine’,
with all this signing of papers.


I think to confound things
mingling them, hatching them new,
seeing through them, stripping them naked,
until the light of the earth
has the unity of the ocean,
a generous integrity,
a crackle of starched perfume.

Harper Lee

I was in second year high school in Manila when my young Bulakena English teacher came to class one morning announcing she has a list of '100 Books You Must Read Or You'll Miss One Half of Your Life,' or something of that sort. She began by saying she has enjoyed reading all these books and that she hopes we would be interested in reading them as well before finally listing down the books in the deep green blackboard right before us.

The list includes Victor Hugo's Les Miserables, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, true-life novel on psychosis 'I Never Promised You a Rose Garden,' Louisa May Alcott's 'Little Women' and 'Little Men,' and plenty of other novels I can't recall right now. I think still have a copy of my list somewhere in my pile of old notebooks back home and it is one of my most treasured old notes.



Harper Lee's 'To Kill a Mockingbird' was definitely on her list. How could it not find it's way there? That book is my old-time favorite, with Les Miserables coming in second. According to Wikipedia, the novel was voted the 'Best Novel of the 20th Century' by readers of the Library Journal in 1999. Not surpringsingly, The Book-of-the-Month Club and the Library of Congress' Center for the Book both found out through a survey conducted in 1991 that the novel was second only to the Bible.

Friendship, courage, and coming of age - these are the timeless themes that made me cry when I first read Harper Lee's Pulitzer-prize winning novel. How I wish I could write one novel that could move people this way, I thought to myself decades ago when I first read it. How could she write about prejudice, injustice and friendship all at the same time with such wit, depth and beauty?

I have re-read it a few times more and I still get this fresh, tingling feeling of reading it as if for the first time. I would still have goosebumps when I read that part of Boo Radley coming out of his house for the first time, when Atticus had to kill that rabid dog and the symbolism the whole scenario evoked, and the trial at the courthouse with Atticus delivering his deeply moving statements. I relished reading every page of this book, the characters almost speaking to me in their authentic, honest dialogues.

The book's author, Harper Lee, now 80 years old and living in Alabama, was honored yesterday for her contribution to American literature. Pres. Bush awarded her the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the US' 'highest civilian award, to recognize contributions in science, the arts, literature and the cause of freedom.' It's an award that she so rightly deserves.

I was 30 when I read a self-help book that advised readers to write down their dreams in life, no matter how odd these may seem. It can be 'Learn to tap dance' or maybe even 'Fly to the moon.' I drew up my own list and it certainly included 'Meet Harper Lee in person.' I don't know if it will ever happen so I am blogging about her and her outstanding novel and quietly hope that she comes across this obscure blog for some random reason. That to me, is as good as meeting her in person.

Ms. Lee, you have broadened my perspective of people and relationships and I'm eternally grateful for that:-)

But nothing really is impossible if you put your heart into what you do, I guess. After all, Atticus Finch in the novel defined courage as '...When you're licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what.'

Photo credit: University of Alabama

A New Approach to Tourism?

Last month, some cousins and I were on our way to Itogon via Tuding Road when we thought of taking a short visit at Mines View Park. Although one cousin lives in Baguio, she hasn't brought her kids to Mines View so we decided to be "tourists" for 30 minutes.

There's really not much to see there, only views of the mountains (kaya nga Mines View) of Itogon where small-scale mining continues to thrive. But there are plenty of things to buy: you'll find endless stalls of flowers, food, and pasalubong items.

We were about to leave the "park," which is actually more of a market, when we noticed a group of young people walking up a stage near the entrance to the view deck. Speaking in Tagalog, they sounded excited to have their photo taken while they wore Igorot head gears.



"Mukha na ba tayong mga Igorot?" asked a female tourist to her companions as they took their seats. I didn't hear the reply of one of her friends but the group broke into laughter and seemed to relish the whole experience.

They looked students to me and I felt more dismayed than angry that these young people from the lowlands have little knowledge about Igorots. I can't blame them for having a stereotype image of Igorots as a people who continue to wear head gears. That's what we often see on TV, that's why.

Now I ask: Shouldn't tourism initiatives involve educating tourists as well, and not just concern itself with "selling" a place?

Baguio City thrives on tourism. Decades before Panagbenga, it was and remains to be known as the Summer Capital of the Philippines. Now we have Panagbenga, a month-long event in February, Baguio Tossed Salad Festival in November, the UP Summer Arts Festival usually in April, and other interesting activities to attract tourists to the city. But except for the UP Arts Festival, do these touristy events help other Filipinos get to know more about the people of Baguio and Benguet? Or do they just unfortunately deepen lowlanders'prejudice against Igorots?

I've visited Internet tourist sites for New Zealand and Australia and I'm truly impressed with how they inform readers about the Maoris and Aborigines, "selling" destinations and yes, even their culture, while educating tourists as well.

Isn't the distinct culture and traditions of the Cordillera the unique selling point of Baguio? The city, after all, is part of Benguet, a land of indigenous people. But why do our tourism initiatives dismally fail to inform tourists who the Igorots are? Panagbenga organizers do make an effort to lend some sense of history and context to their events but almost always, the activities are so unrelated to the concept of panagbenga.

Just to show you what I mean, here are some of the activities last February: (at SM) Aloha Hula, Jazz Up Your Jeans, and the Panagbenga Closing Party with Kamikaze; (at Baguio Center Mall) taekwando and arnis competitions. We also had the search for Mr. and Ms. Fashionista, and Mr. Panagbenga and Flower Princess. The rest of the events were about gardening, flowers and trade fairs.

Hey, I'm not saying we do away with pop culture-type money-making events. But can't we make our "festival" more meaningful by showcasing films, concerts, plays or other cultural events that tell more about the Ibalois, or the early builders of Baguio for instance? Or maybe an activity that highlights Baguio's historical sites? Baguio may now be a bustling city peopled by migrants but it will cease to be Baguio if it loses its soul.

Touching the Skies

I was in college when I read a title of a book that went Igorot: A People Who Daily Touch the Earth and Sky. Coming from a region with the highest elevation in the country, we literally do almost touch the skies everyday of our lives.

Here's a photo of sunset taken three weeks ago from Ucab, Itogon. I'm an amateur photographer and I must admit that this photo doesn't quite capture the enchanting scene I saw. But hey, magical views like these are my kind of food for the soul. Mangan takon, apo:-)

A Glimpse of Heaven

I just love views of mountains hugged by fog on misty afternoons. These, for me, are a glimpse of heaven:-) One look at the scene and I know there's a Higher Being painting these beautiful images right before my eyes. Simply mesmerizing.

Here's a photo I took of the mountains of Benguet as seen from Tuding, Itogon, one misty afternoon last June. Enjoy:-)

Post Script on Gen. Antonio Taguba

Mea culpa. So I relied on my journalist friend's forwarded message (which he got from another person) that Gen. Antonio Taguba has Igorot blood running through his veins. Eh mali pala. Tsk tsk. Trublue was kind enough to point out the error and so I have to write this post script. I did have a female classmate surnamed Taguba from Kalinga but she said her family trace their roots in Mountain Province. But as far as our hero is concerned, he's an Ilocano, period.

I Googled Tomas Taguba, Gen. Taguba's dad, and here's what I found:

After serving in two wars and being captured by the Japanese Imperial Army at Bataan in the Philippines in 1942, Tomas B. Taguba finally has been recognized for his service.

"I don't know what happened," Taguba said after receiving two medals recently from Maj. Gen. James T. Hill, commanding general of the 25th Infantry Division. Taguba's son, Brig. Gen. Antonio Taguba, the U.S. Army's first Filipino-American general officer, observed the ceremony.

"This was a special honor for him and his family," said Gen. Taguba, deputy commander of the 1st Army at Fort Jackson in North Carolina.

Tomas Taguba was 24 when he was inducted into the U.S. Army on Feb. 10, 1942, as a member of the Philippine Scouts.

During the Japanese attack on the Philippines, Taguba was a truck driver assigned to haul ammunition and food supplies to the front lines on Bataan and Corregidor. He was captured by the Japanese when Bataan fell on April 9, 1942.

During the infamous Bataan death march, Taguba escaped, joined the underground movement and avoided being recaptured by the Japanese until U.S. forces returned to the Philippines. He was listed as missing in action for more than three years -- a period spent reporting on Japanese movements in his home province of Isabella, (emphasis mine) he said.

He enlisted in the U.S. Army in July 1945, and rose to the rank of sergeant 1st class before he retired in 1962. During his more than 20 years in the Army, Taguba served in South Korea, Germany and Okinawa, spending his last 17 years as a motor-pool sergeant.

After retiring from the Army, Taguba returned to the service to spend another 17 years at Schofield Barracks working as an arms specialist.

He has been married to the former Maria Batulan for more than 52 years. They have seven children and nine grandchildren.

Igorot or not, I continue to admire Gen. Taguba, a shining example of a man of valor and honor.

Gen. Antonio Taguba: An Igorot Hero in These Troubled Times

A journalist friend forwarded this beautiful article regarding the modern-day heroism of General Antonio Taguba, "the highest-ranking US military officer of Filipino descent. He was born and raised in the Philippines before migrating to the US, and is the son of an Igorot Philippine Scout who survived the Bataan Death March."

I couldn't help but be moved by this man's awe-inspiring sense of integrity as he evealed the damning truth about the abuses committed by his fellow American soldiers at Abu Ghraib. Sir, you make me feel honored to be an Igorot.

The eminent journalist Seymour Hersh has just published a story in the New Yorker on the man who told the truth about Abu Ghraib.

The US government investigation of the Abu Ghraib prison atrocities in 2004 was led by General Antonio Taguba, the highest-ranking US military officer of Filipino descent. He was born and raised in the Philippines before migrating to the US, and is the son of an Igorot Philippine Scout who survived the Bataan Death March.

General Taguba's report on the Abu Ghraib atrocities is lucid, damning and fearless, and shows a trail of responsibility leading to the top levels of the most powerful government in the world.

Only a military man of the greatest integrity could have had the courage to file a report so unflinching in its analysis, and so damning of his superiors and of the military system around which his whole career--his life--was built.

I remember watching on C-SPAN as General Taguba entered a crowded meeting room to testify before the US Senate Armed Forces Committee regarding his findings. It took him a while to make his way to his chair, because so many wanted to shake his hand--the hand of a man who was not afraid to tell the truth.

A Filipino friend who lives in Washington, DC, rode a taxi to the hearing. When the taxi driver learned that she was a Filipino, and where she was headed, he refused payment for the ride.

"The world needs more people like General Taguba," he said.
*************************************

>From the article in the New Yorker:

"From the moment a soldier enlists, we inculcate loyalty, duty, honor, integrity, and selfless service," Taguba said. "And yet when we get to the senior-officer level we forget those values. I know that my peers in the Army will be mad at me for speaking out, but the fact is that we violated the laws of land warfare in Abu Ghraib. We violated the tenets of the Geneva Convention. We violated our own principles and we violated the core of our military values. The stress of combat is not an excuse, and I believe, even today, that those civilian and military leaders responsible should be held accountable."

Read "The General's Report: How Antonio Taguba, who investigated the Abu Ghraib scandal, became one of its casualties by Seymour M. Hersh, New Yorker, 25 June 2007 here.

How Baguio's Barangays Got Their Names Part II

As promised, here's part 2 of our list. You could add up to this list if you know how or why a certain place in Cordi was so named. Trublue, Holy Ghost was named after a convent:-) Hmmm...I wonder how Barangay Palpaltogan in Lepanto, Mankayan got its name;-)

Dagsian (Upper Dagsian and Lower Dagsian)- Originally called DAGSI for its springs of pure water. It was later changed to DAGSIAN, meaning plenty of pure water.

Fairview - So named because of its panoramic view of Guisad Valley, Aurora Hill, and Camp Allen.

Gibraltar - Major Jonathan Spith, a German national who married a Filipino and lived and died in this barangay, is said to have named Gibraltar after the Rock of Gibraltar in Europe.

Green Water - Named after greenish water spewed out of its numerous moss-covered springs.

Central Guisad - From the Ibaloi word no i-shoclshad, which literally describes how the mountain top was carried by the strong current into the deepest part of Guisad Valley after a strong typhoon.

Holy Ghost - Named after the Holy Ghost convent atop a plateau to the northeast which overlooks the entire barangay.

Loakan Apugan - Named after the main product of the barangay – apugy. Years back, the place was a quarry for lime and silicon.

Military Cut-off - So named by General William Wagner, as the cut-off point to the former Camp John Hay, one of the military installations of the American forces in Luzon during World War II.

Mines View - So called because of Mines View Park, from which tourists could glimpse Baguio Gold and other mines from the view deck.

How Baguio’s Barangays Got Their Names Part I

How did our different barangays here in Baguio get their names? The Saint Louis University (SLU) Library and Museum staff thought this was worth researching. Last January, during SLU’s foundation day celebration at Melvin Jones, I had a fun time visiting the SLU Library and Museum’s booth which presented several panels listing down the names of Baguio’s barangays and a brief history of their names.

As I was reading over these panels, I recalled three places I know and a few details about their names. For instance, Otucan in Bauko, where I was born, used to be known as "Kiodan." Mainit in Bontoc was called "Chonglian" before some lowlander gave it its current name. Sabangan? Until now this village has plenty of saba (bananas);-)

Well, here’s the first installment of what I got from the SLU Library and Museum (reproduced here in toto).

ABCR – Acronyms for Andres Bonifacio, Caguioa and Rimando

Ambiong – Named after a bee species that is said to have once produced the sweetest honey among all the local bee species, which abounded in the place during the olden times.

Atok Trail – So called since it was the road that led to Atok Gold Mines.

Balsigan – From the Ilocano word pagbalsigan (a place for chopping wood). So called since most of the residents then were engaged in chopping wood, which they sold to the rich people for their fireplaces.

Brookside – So called because it is alongside a winding brook that snakes through the roofing hills from Pacdal and empties at Lucban.

Bakakeng – From the local word baka (cow) or bakaan (pastureland for cows) and mambebkeng (to build dikes for the farm and animals).

Cabinet Hill – Teachers’ Camp Barangay so called because it is the location of the cottages of Cabinet Secretaries and of Teachers’ Camp, originally planned as the “summer camp of public school teachers.”

Camp 8 – The builders of Kennon Road had to set up eight camps on their way up starting from the bottom of Rosario, La Union, to finish the city’s first gravel road artery. The last camp was Camp 8.

City Camp (City Camp Central, City Camp Proper) – This was a camp for City government personnel and workers of the Rock Quarry during the pre-war days. A camp for equipment, dubbed Motorpool, was also constructed as a depot for heavy equipment used in quarrying.

More "Mainit" Photos

Mainit is a must-see destination when you're in Bontoc. You can find Mainit-bound jeepneys at the corner of Chakas Building (sorry I don't know the name of the street) and the main road of Bontoc Central. Travel time is between 30 to 45 minutes.



Enjoy a relaxing dip at the Ben-Vick's Rest House, owned by Mr. Benedict Odsey.



Or try Mrs. Eleanor Geston's swimming pools near the entrance of the village.



Walk around Mainit and you'll find interesting aspects of its people's culture.



Mainit also boasts of its own stone-walled ricefields.

Hot talaga ang Mainit, di ba?:-)

Mainit, Bontoc

Too bad the rainy season started early this year. But for those of you who still want to have a late summer adventure, try visiting Mainit, a small village in Bontoc. My advice: you have to stay overnight so you could visit the public dipping pools at dusk and listen to the women (and men) share their stories.

Here are some photos taken by a friend's mobile phone camera.



A close-up shot of the "luwag" or hotspring



Kids at play on a lazy, Sunday morning

Remembering Yogyakarta

One year and three days ago today, I almost died in Yogyakarta, Indonesia. That’s me being dramatic about my experience:-) But honestly, I’ve never been so frightened in my whole life.

I was alone in my hotel room that Saturday, May 27, when a 6.3-magnitude earthquake struck Central Java at 5:53 in the morning. The tremor was so strong I felt like I was inside a small boat caught in storm. The coffee table near my bed toppled and with it, the three mugs my Indonesian friends Trina, Asi and I used the previous evening.

Sitting outside Hotel Saphir where I stayed, I saw an endless stream of pick-ups, trucks and ambulances carrying dead or injured people. At nine in the morning, people started running towards the north. A woman was screaming and crying so I asked the male hotel staff what the woman was saying. Looking frightened himself, he said that according to the woman, a tsunami is coming. My heart skipped a beat and my mind went blank. With the airport and train station closed, I felt trapped in a chaotic situation. Is this really happening, I asked myself.






I took this photo of the fifth floor of Hotel Saphir on my way down to the lobby.

Here’s a rundown of the earthquake’s devastating effect:
- At least 5,749 people were killed
- 38,568 were injured
- as many as 600,000 people were displaced in the Bantul-Yogyakarta area
- more than 127,000 houses were destroyed
- an additional 451,000 were damaged in the area

The total loss was estimated at approximately 3.1 billion US dollars.



Saphir Square, a newly-built mall beside Hotel Saphir, suffered heavy damage.

Although the experience was traumatic (I have become extra sensitive for the slightest shake or vibration wherever I am), I would always remember the Yogya earthquake, and my Indonesia adventure in general, for the beautiful lessons it taught me:

1. Good people are everywhere. And they come when you need them most.

After I went to the airport only to find out that it was damaged and closed for flights, I went back to my hotel to ask directions how I could leave Yogya. I had to catch an early flight to Singapore the next day and be in Manila by Monday for an interview. As I was asking directions, a bespectacled male asked me “Miss, Pilipino ka ba?” I swear that I almost cried out of joy when I heard him speak Tagalog at that moment. He wasn’t only a Pinoy, he was from Baguio, too! Prof. Bobby Arguelles of SLU and his two male Indonesian friends helped me find a taxi so I could go to Solo, some 45 minutes away, where the flights had been transferred. Thanks to Bobby, Andrei and Bhayu, I was on my way to Solo – and to safety – at around 12 noon.

2. Religion does not define people.

Indonesia is the largest Muslim country in the world, with 85 percent of its 220 million people adhering to Islam. While I had my own biases against Muslims in general based on what I read and my limited interaction with Pinoy Muslims in tiangges, I learned that ultimately, it is people who define the quality of the religions they choose to practice.

I became friends with Purwani Prabandari (or Dari), a woman Muslim editor of Koran Tempo in Jakarta, and we realized that despite our different faiths, we have so much in common in terms of how we view the world. She and many other Muslims I have met shattered my limited concept of Islam as a religion. They have shown me only kindness and respect. I guess we have to go beyond religion to be truly spiritual.

It was this Muslim woman who first texted me that morning of May 27, asking how I was. She kept me updated through text on what was happening around Yogya. A native of Solo, she was the one who instructed me to go to her town when she found out that the airport in Yogya was damaged. I couldn’t have remained in one piece without her texts to reassure me I would be safe.




3. Be careful for what you pray for.

Mount Merapi was already erupting when I decided to go to Indonesia for my short-tem journalism fellowship. My family kept asking me why I chose Indonesia when there are other safer and more progressive places to go to. Well, I just want to know more about Islam, I told them. Silently, I was telling myself that I’m going for an adventure of a lifetime. My 21 days’ stay in Jakarta and 4 days in Yogyakarta had just been that – one memorable adventure of a lifetime, one experience I would always be thankful for.



A photo of Mount Merapi taken by Dari.

4. New places give us the gift of ourselves.

Before I went to Indonesia, I considered myself disorganized, often misplacing my pen, earrings, anything. But alone in a strange land, I was forced to keep my things in order and to remember where I placed them. Although I have always thought of myself as independent and strong, I didn’t know how independent and strong I was until I was on my own in a foreign land. Unable to speak and understand Bahasa Indonesia, I found myself oftentimes alone taking trains, taxis and buses to unknown places, holding on to my small notebook for the helpful directions Dari gave me. Sometimes I would get lost but more often than not, I would reach my destination without a hitch as I pretended to be Indonesian and mimicked their accent whenever I spoke to drivers. Alone in my room at night, I would smile as I recalled small mishaps I encountered during the day.

For my Indonesian adventure, the best lesson I learned is that sometimes we have to leave in order to find our way home:-)

Terimah kasih, Indonesia!

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers and to all women who have the heart of a mother!

I greatly admire my own mother for striving hard to obtain a good education despite her family’s poverty. At 71, she remains hardworking, looking after us with love and devotion. Thank you, Mama, for all your love:-)



By the way, the history of Mother’s Day is very interesting. Did you know that the observance of Mother’s Day was started by Anna Jarvis, an American who never had children of her own? Read more about it here.

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie." -- Tenneva Jordan

For more quotes on mothers and motherhood, click here.

From Sabangan to Texas

Here's the story of one of our kailians, Marlene Paredes from Sabangan, Mountain Province. She's currently the only Filipino who's working as a marketing strategist at Texas Instruments (TI)in Dallas, Texas. The article originally appeared in Cordillera Today's May 6 issue. Happy reading!:-)

Picking Up Stones, Gaining the World

Fifty centavos. This was her first salary as a six-year-old girl who had to carry stones from Sabangan River to a house being constructed near their house. In her village, almost all the children earned money this way. They would jump at the opportunity to get paid for an easy job because they do harder work at home for free. After she got her pay, she hopped to the store and bought a soy sauce for their use at home. “I don’t remember buying myself a candy because I was just so excited to buy something for my family,” she recalls.

Today, she travels frequently from the US to Europe as a marketing strategist for one of the world’s leading semiconductor firms. Only 39, Marlene Paredes is currently the only Filipino working in strategic marketing for Texas Instruments (TI) in Dallas, Texas.



Often the smallest and only female in their team, Marlene (extreme left) poses with her colleagues during a business trip to Salzburg, Austria.

Barely 5’1, bereft of jewelry and without any trace of make-up, Marlene looks fresh out of college in a pair of gray denims and long-sleeved white shirt. She presents herself the way she’d like to be known: a simple woman who’s grateful for every blessing that has come her way. Indeed, there are few Filipinos, Igorots for that matter, who have reached what she has achieved.

“As a marketing strategist, my work involves defining and executing marketing and business strategy for the European and Korean automotive markets. I travel a lot to Europe and sometimes to Korea to visit customers and also our sales groups for these regions,” she says.

Marlene’s excellent work served as her passport to her present job. She was then working as an engineer at Team Pacific in Taguig when she learned of an opening at TI’s Mexico City factory. Without any connections and just her resume to back her up, she was immediately hired as a process engineer. In 1994, she left the Philippines for Mexico City, where her career would bloom.

“It was my first time to work in a foreign country and I was still very new in the corporate world. And I also couldn’t speak Spanish! I felt homesick during my first few weeks,” she shares.

Thus, she poured all her energy at work while learning how to speak and write in Spanish. Just after six months from being hired, she was promoted engineering manager for assembly and in less than one year, as operations manager. Not even in her 30s, female, and a newcomer, Marlene was tasked to manage about 80 percent of the semiconductor operations at TI-Mexico.

Right after her promotion, TI Mexico’s top management gave her the authority to redesign the whole factory. Despite her broken Spanish, she successfully led and executed the project, putting TI Mexico in the radar screen of the executive management. “Our factory’s output increased by over 1000 percent after we were done with it,” Marlene recalls, smiling.

There was no stopping her after that. Marlene then co-wrote a paper on factory re-engineering which was chosen as one of the 12 papers to be presented in an international conference of semiconductor engineers in Mesa, Arizona.

She was the only woman and the only Filipina presenter in that event attended by semiconductor manufacturing engineers all over the world. “As I stood to present, I was literally shaking but after about five minutes, I got my full bearing and presented like a real pro,” she shares.

When she left Mexico City , Marlene received about 10 despedidas, many from people who, at the start of her work, asked “why someone with a red badge (at TI, this indicates the employee has less than 5 years’ experience) can lead someone with a gold badge (over 20 years’ experience).”



Marlene visits the Eiffel Tower in Paris during one of her business
trips to Europe.

Achieving success at an early age meant Marlene had to postpone her personal life as she focused on her work. After almost five years in Mexico, she decided to shift career from the technical side to the marketing side of the business. “I told myself, ‘Now that I have proven that I can be who I want to be, it’s time to focus on myself.’”

Moving to Dallas, she started doing apprentice work for marketing before getting into her current position. She was able to learn the business side of TI while having time for herself and her family. “I was able to spend more time with my family traveling to Hongkong , Singapore , Thailand and Cebu. My priorities now have shifted from career to my personal life,” she adds.

Being a manager is actually no big deal for Marlene. “The business environment these days is very, very dynamic. Within the past few years, we have seen lay-offs in our company and around us. If you can’t add value to the organization, you are gone,” she explains.

Is it difficult working in a predominantly male environment? “Most of the men I work with respect and acknowledge me as a woman so I disregard those that don’t. Regardless if you are a woman or not, how you carry yourself has a huge bearing on how people treat and respect you.” She enjoys her current job because it allows her to get an insight of how cars would look like in the future. The best part of all is that it enables her to work with talented people from all over the world.

Born and raised in Sabangan, Mountain Province, Marlene was valedictorian from elementary until high school. She finished electronics and communications engineering from Saint Louis University in 1988 and obtained her license in the same year.

It’s ironic that this talented woman never dreamed of becoming an engineer. “I wanted to be in business. I was supposed to take up commerce but when my sister decided to enroll in the same course, I chose engineering instead so there would be no sibling rivalry.”

She chose to major in ECE later because it was new at that time and there was a big demand for communications engineers. “I have no regrets now of my choice. I think someone up there was guiding me throughout.” But Marlene still hopes that one day, she would be able to fulfill her dream of running her own business.

Her constant hunger for learning and boundless love for her family push Marlene to give her best in everything she does. “Losing my dad and almost losing my sister at a very young age matured me early. I have always wanted to give my mother and my family the best that I can.”

For all that she has achieved, Marlene believes that success is not measured in terms of money and power. “Inner peace, love, faith and contentment are harder to find and can never be bought.”

Believe in yourself and work hard to get to your dream, Marlene advises. “Start by being proud to be an Igorot and to be from the mountains of Cordillera. Every time I tell people I am an Igorota, I get a strange look and they say ‘You don’t look like one.’ I ask them, ‘How does an Igorota supposed to look like?’ I should know better because I am one,” she shares with a laugh.

“I thank God first of all and my family for keeping my feet on the ground. Today, I can say that I am truly content with my life and that I have remained the same person as I was, the same little simple girl who bought soy sauce with her 50-centavo pay,” she ends, beaming.

A Kailian Writes from Boston

I'm happy to share with you an article written by a dear friend, Rosella Bahni from Benguet. She's pursuing her MA in Cultural Production at Brandeis University in Boston.

Her class in Museums and Public Memory successfully put up an exhibit of Sudanese paintings entitled "Leave the Bones and Catch the Land." Read more about it here . The Boston Globe also wrote about this pioneering class project.

Here it goes.

Introduction
What started as a class project turned out to be more than just participating in the exhibition of the south Sudanese paintings. I found myself taking the journey with them from their homes, through the deserts to Ethiopia and Sudan, and their desire for education while in the United States. I had the privilege of this vicarious experience in my encounters with them. Reading "The Lost Boys" was my first encounter with the civil war in Sudan told from the vivid accounts of three boys who endured and survived the hardships of losing their parents and communities at a very young age.

Personally encountering the south Sudanese themselves were deepening moments for me. When I interviewed Panther Alier, I met for the first time a south Sudanese. His narratives corroborated the experiences of the Lost Boys and he gave a face to them. I also interviewed Yar Alieu who stressed the importance of retaining their cultural values that make them a community. I was particularly honored to be told about her mother whose voice Yar still vividly remembers and treasures for the sake of her child. Yar’s sharing provided the balance of gender perspective in looking at the exhibit. Another encounter I had with the south Sudanese was during the fund raising activity held on October 14. I saw part of their rich cultural tradition while they sang and danced. I was happy to become part of their effort to gain support for their education. I likewise prepared a paper for the development of a south Sudanese museum. All these contributed to enrich and guide my involvement that culminated in my participation with the exhibition of the south Sudanese paintings.

From the beginning: October 9 first day in the gallery
I was present on October 9 on the first day that the paintings were brought in the gallery. I was witness to and became involved in the dynamics of starting an art exhibition such as the following:a. Assessing the exhibition space - before all the paintings were classified, those present looked at the over-all design of the gallery to consider how to maximize the available space, the vantage view of the windows, and the two doors. These were analyzed vis-à-vis the story line of the paintings and perceived movement of viewers to attain better understanding of the exhibit.b. Assessing the paintings: their meanings and messages - the available paintings were studied as to the initial meanings and messages these convey and the group present proposed several categories to classify these. Additional categories were later added by the class.c. Creating the story line or format for locating the paintings - From the categories identified, the story line was developed starting from remembering homes to hopeful paintings. This was later developed by the class to end with ‘prophetic visions.’

The Technology of Setting-up an Exhibit
In the succeeding days, I witnessed the class in the refinement of the story line and the proper classification of the paintings according to categories. I also became part of the design team that gave more extra hours to look at the entire exhibit. In the process, I was involved and enriched by the other’s input as well.

a. The Element of Wonder: Placement of Paintings - the design team tried to address aesthetic concerns on the placement of the paintings. Once the story line was established and the largest painting was located, the design team arranged the paintings according to these bases: colors should not contrast but blend; images should not jar from the paintings beside it; there should be smooth transition between categories; certain paintings have more impact than others and placed above the rest (I am happy to suggest that the painting "Still Coming" should be placed above the maps.); and balance should be observed but to allow for certain imbalances that are nevertheless attractive. Other paintings were reviewed as to relevance and placement in the story line. Non-relevance meant non-inclusion of the paintings.

b. The Element of Resonance: Understanding the Context - I strongly felt that the exhibit is not only to meet aesthetic purposes but also aims to raise awareness so that more sectors will be involved in addressing the concerns of south Sudanese. I was happy that background information was given regarding Sudan and its conflicts and the student statement carried a paragraph advocating for action.c. Captions Preparations - every member of the class was involved in preparing the captions. I learned the importance of listening to the voice of the artist and the people represented in preparing captions. These were my contributions in this part of the exhibition preparation: interviewing and uploading the results of the interview with Panther and Yar; formulating captions in partnership with other students; helping a bit in editing the captions; mounting the captions on foam paper; and pasting the captions on the wall.

Conclusion: The Opening Night
I participated, albeit very minimally, with the opening committee in conceptualizing the Opening Ritual. I liked the idea of a south Sudanese to have a major part in the ceremony because the exhibit is actually their own. I met Yar and Panther again. I am happy to share in their moment of ownership by singing their song. On this opening night, I received a gift of t-shirt from Susan Winship in gratitude for the volunteer work I did during their fund raising activity. Actually, I should be the one to express my gratitude to Susan for her work enabled me to meet the south Sudanese. By "journeying" with them, I became aware of my responsibility as a member of the community of humanity. And through my participation in the exhibit, I hope to have contributed in their quests for peace and justice.

Small-Scale Mining in Itogon

I've always thought that gold comes in the form of small stones hidden inside tunnels. As in, you'll find them shining once inside a mine. Little did I know that it's made of soft particles imbedded in rocks.

I had a rare privilege of seeing the different aspects of small-scale mining in Itogon, an area rich in gold deposits. It used to host two big mining corporations: Benguet Mining Corporation in Antamok and Virac and Itogon-Suyoc Mines in Sangilo.

Before these big corporations came, the people of Itogon were already into small-scale mining, a traditional occupation deeply woven into the fabric of their lives. Thus, they observe many age-old rules when going inside tunnels, while processing the ore, up to the time the gold is finally purified and melted. “We believe that gold has a spirit. Gold will always be there if we respect it and share it with others,” reveals Manang Leticia from Itogon.

One important lesson I learned: small-scale miners put their life at risk every time they go inside the usok (tunnel). Whatever they earn for their gold is nothing compared to the dangers they face whenever they go deep into the tunnel.

The mountains of Itogon, Benguet at dusk.

Cooking coffee at the lagangan.

A woman separates (dayas) visible gold particles from soil using a metal pan and a pool of water.

Melting gold using a blower, charcoal, borax and gangi (a bowl made of clay).

Tamed by the Spirits

“Could you please drive me to the ilot? My baby has been crying since last night and I don’t know what to do,” my friend Manang Pia asked me some months back, her eyes drooping, her hair disheveled. Rocking her little boy, she would soothe him whenever he cried.

“Why don’t we go see your pediatrician?” I asked, puzzled that my friend is willing to endure an hour of bumpy drive to Virac, one of Itogon’s barangays, just in the outskirts of Baguio, to see her ilot or massage healer.

“I don’t think this one’s for his doctor. He’s so active maybe he has strained some muscles,” she said with certainty in her voice. I have been to blind reflexologists several times in the past when back pains would keep me wide awake at night. But babies being massaged? Their bodies look so fragile to be kneaded and pressed. Curious and eager to see just how effective ilots are, I agreed to her request.

The four of us, Pia’s two sisters and myself, and our restless little boy, went off to see the ilot, Baket Pitnay. She turned out to be an old woman of about 75, blind and paralyzed, confined to her bed. Manang Pia gave the ilot’s daughter the bread we bought at a bakery along Kias as she ushered us to her mother’s room. The seven-month-old boy’s eyes surveyed Baket Pitnay’s room that smelled of liniment. His eyes grew a little wider as Manang Pia handed him to the old woman, her wrinkled, sagging arms reaching for him.

Manang Pia told Baket Pitnay a few things about her baby: he has been crying the whole night, he was restless, and he would cry for no apparent reason. The old woman said maybe he has indeed twisted an arm or a leg. “That’s the way with small children,” she said softly, nodding her head.

Propped up by pillows behind her, Baket Pitnay sat on her wooden bed and began to massage the little boy’s neck, arms, back, and legs. She worked slowly and gently, her arthritic fingers adroitly pressing the boy’s flesh. She would put down the bottle of liniment beside her, groping for it later when her hands got dry. Her lips would move, forming inaudible words, perhaps praying to some spirit? The little boy would whimper once in a while, but kept silent for the most part of the “session.”

After about 30 minutes, the old woman said the little boy was okay. Manang Pia, now smiling and sharing anecdotes, thanked Baket Pitnay. When we got back to Manang Pia’s house, the boy was quiet but his face looked serene, the creases in his forehead gone, his eyes alert and shining. I was greatly impressed that the massage had proved effective.

I have nothing against ilots (for Tagalogs, hilot), or massage healers. I just can’t remember being brought to an ilot by my parents when I fell ill as a child. What I remember were thermometers, water bags, stethoscope, and BP apparatus inside the cabinet of our parents’ room. My siblings and I were also used to taking generic tablets that were commonly used in our hometown at the time: there’s sulfadiacin for fever, cough or colds, and sulfaguanadin for loose bowel. These were medicines given by the Belgian nuns from the infirmary in Bauko. But my most vivid recollection of illnesses was rather traumatic. Whenever we had lingering cough and colds, Papa would inject us with antibiotic, and we would embrace Mama as the needle hits our buttocks. Sometimes, it would be our mother who injected us as we tightly held on to our father. My parents are not doctors and I have yet to find out how and why they learned to do these things.

As my siblings and I grew older, we learned to be less dependent on medicines or injections. Although my two older sisters are nurses, and another older sister turned up a medical technologist, I ended up being allergic to hospitals and everything associated with illness and medicines. Despite, or perhaps because of their trainings, my sisters advise water therapy, rest, proper diet, and a dose of laughter over medicines whenever any one of us got sick.
Still, science has a rational way of explaining our discomforts and illnesses. Every illness has signs and symptoms; it can be either cured, prevented or managed. A strange experience, however, would teach me a valuable lesson on the mystical and spiritual.

Several months ago, I was awakened by my kidneys at about four in the morning. Just after closing the door of the rest room, I suddenly felt dizzy, my throat turning dry and my mouth tasting bitter at the same time. As I sat down on the couch, I felt like a bucket of ice had been splashed down my spine. An early riser, Aunt Letty came down and saw me looking helpless and weak.

“Are you ill?” she asked, taking my cold, clammy hands, her eyes wide with concern. My hands and feet were beginning to feel numb and I was getting nervous by the minute. Aunt Letty went hurriedly upstairs, in search for something. Unable to find what she was looking for, she went out to the porch, coming back with leeks or kutsay, an herb that smells like garlic when crushed.

“I couldn’t find a dengaw (the root of sweet flag),” she told my cousin who was now massaging my hands and feet. I found out later that dengaw, an aromatic root, is often used in rituals as sumang (antidote) to drive away evil spirits.

Looking grave while holding kutsay leaves, she stood beside me and prayed in Kankana-ey, calling out the spirits of our ancestors, asking them to forgive me if I have offended them in any manner.

“Please spare her from any illness or misfortune. Have pity on her and restore her health,” she murmured, crushing the leeks over my head. She continued to appeal to our ancestors while I silently prayed to God to heal me and spare me from untimely death. For the third time in my life, I could almost feel the hand of death grip me. We were silent for a few minutes and slowly, I began to feel warmer, my breathing steadier.

“Now, you look better. Na-am-amlingan ka samet. I think you have displeased some spirits. Maybe you accidentally stepped on their dwelling or met a bad spirit. Your lips were so white a while ago I got frightened,” Aunt Letty said.

Was it the strong smell of kutsay that brought me back to my senses? Or was it God’s way of letting me experience his power over life and death? Or maybe, just maybe, I have indeed upset spirits around me? I remembered asking some cousins why they have to offer (atang) to the spirits a serving of dishes they cooked during birthdays and other special occasions. Why does an uncle or an aunt suffering from a lingering illness have to butcher a pig and invite the community to partake of the food? Maybe the spirits got tired of my endless “whys.”

In this age of the Internet, palm tops, and other high tech gadgets, massage healers and evil spirits seem a leap back to time. But when one has first hand experience of the mystical and unexplainable, one can’t help but question, even abandon science, at least at that instance when one teeters between life and death. Baket Pitnay, Aunt Letty, mambunongs, mumbakis, alopagans, babaylans, and other traditional healers in different parts of the country bring us closer to our humanity, grounding us to truths about the limits of science and the mysteries of life.

Now, I stand back in quiet reflection when my father, an uncle or male cousin opens a bottle of wine, pours a little of it outside the window, as he offers a short prayer of thanksgiving to the spirits of our ancestors. I silently join them in their prayers, “Come join us in celebrating life.”

Happy Women’s Day!

Congratulations to all the winners of the search for the Ten Outstanding Women of Baguio City who were awarded this morning at the Convention Center.

In celebration of Women’s Month, I’m writing about Igorota Foundation, one of the first organizations in the Cordillera region to advocate for women empowerment. Now on its 20th year, Igorota is silently but passionately working to improve the lives of women in different areas in the region.

Today is extra special for Igorota as one of their staff was chosen as one of Baguio’s Ten Outstanding Women. Corazon Pindog, or Manang Cora, was recognized for her significant contribution in the area of Community Service.

Cora Pindog with Erlin Tagle, Baguio City acting mayor Peter Rey Bautista,
and councilor Galo Weygan.

From left: Ara Santiago (Igorota staff in Atok) , Victoria Makay (one of the nominees for Baguio City's Ten Outstanding Women), Marjorie Balay-as (Igorota Program Manager), Cora Pindog, and Carina Dapliyan (Igorota Finance Officer).

IIgorota staff with Manang Vicky during the parade this morning along Session Road

Here’s more on Igorota.

One of the more recent projects that Igorota spearheaded is the formulation and passage of the Gender Equality and Development (GEAD) Code in Baguio City. Another important project was the delineation and management of ancestral domains in the municipalities of Tinoc and Hungduan in the province of Ifugao.

Igorota’s ongoing project is the formulation of Ancestral Domain Sustainable and Development Protection Plans (ADSDPPs) in Tinoc and Hungduan, Ifugao; Bauko, Mt. Province, and; Atok and Kibungan, Benguet. It is also working closely with the Baguio City Government in implementing the provisions of the recently approved GEAD Code.

Vision: Women’s holistic development for self-sustaining communities.

Mission: To empower women through transformative trainings, education, advocacy, and organizing.

Among its goals are the following:

Provide advocacy and educational tools through Igorota Magazine and other information-education campaign materials.

Contribute to raising awareness and policy formulation on gender and Cordillera issues through the Learning Resource Center.

Develop advocates for gender-responsive communities.

Respond to women and gender issues in the community.

Enable women to assert their reproductive rights.

Enable women to participate in community development through socio-economic activities.

Sustain the sources of women’s life forces.

Enable communities to claim and assert their indigenous rights and responsibilities.

It's four Programs:
Gender and Development: A response to women’s situation and geared towards personal, group and community development through the provision of practical and strategic gender interventions. It aims to enable women to be aware of the socio-cultural and political conditions that affect their roles, choices, images and relationships; and to facilitate responsive actions as a result of their awareness and consciousness.

Ancestral Domain: A response to the issues of unpeace and underdevelopment in the region based on the inability of indigenous peoples to fully exercise their rights over their ancestral domains. This program aims to attain self-sustaining communities through indigenous women’s initiatives for peace and development.

Publication: The Igorota Magazine and other journals serve as a fora for the expression and exchange of ideas and experiences on women and Cordillera issues for the identification of various solutions to problems, and for the development of a collective Cordillera consciousness and identity from the women’s perspective.

Learning Resource Center: Serves as a venue for roundtable discussions on gender, women and Cordillera issues. The LRC also undertakes research and information generation.

Cheers to all Igorota! Cheers to all women!

Fellowships, Anyone?

News University Interactive Learning Fellowship

Here's an interesting fellowship from News University, a site that offers e-learning for journalists. Read more about it here.

This is a yearlong paid fellowship to aid in the creation of interactive learning modules for News University, the e-learning project at The Poynter Institute for Media Studies. The project is funded by the Knight Foundation. News University can be seen at www.newsu.org.

This position starts in late spring or summer 2007. Applications are due by March 15, 2007. A decision will be made shortly thereafter.

Qualifications for this position include

• Either bachelor's degree in Multimedia, Computer-related Design or related four-year degree, with emphasis in journalism and/or education
• Proficiency in Flash, Illustrator, Dreamweaver and Photoshop
• Strong scripting skills in ActionScript and HTML; familiarity with JavaScript, XML, PHP and databases desirable
• Excellent verbal and written communication skills
• Willingness to learn and try new things.
• Experience in collecting and editing digital photographs, audio, and video is a plus
• Knowledge of learning theory and principles of online learning is a plus
• Teaching assistant experience is a plus

UST National Writers' Workshop

Here's an announcement I got from Women's Feature Service e-group:

The Center for Creative Writing and Studies of the University of Sto Tomas is accepting manuscripts for the 8th National Writers Workshop to be held on April 29- May 5 in Baguio City. The workshop is open to writers who have not been awarded fellowships to any national writers workshop.

An applicant should submit three printed copies (on short bond paper) and a CD or diskette containing soft copies in MS Word format of his/her manuscript ( at least five poems or two short stories or five nonfiction pieces in English or Filipino). He/she should submit a resume, a 2x2 ID photo, and a certification duly signed by an institution/company senior that the manuscript is authentic.

Fifteen fellowships are available, a percentage of which will be given to the Dominican Network of Schools, Colleges and Universities. Deadline is on March 15. Interested parties may call 4061611 local 8281 (Tuesday to Saturday) or e-mail: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/wfsphil/post?postID=soh9WwFqISWMoIApTKVWrvjUxdPg1fnYJ4y4Txso0EIl9wkvlB1tkviiBXUJe5yRnv8bLdcpHbZ-VwHtNg

What Blogging and Networking Can Do

The past several days have been truly exciting for me in terms of getting acquainted with blogging, bloggers, and what new technology can do. In my attempt to know blogs about and by Igorots, I stumbled upon From the Boondocks by Bill Bilig. It’s one great site for researchers on Igorots and Cordillera studies in general. There are topics on Igorot achievers, places to see in the region, contributions of mountaineers in Philippine history, and other interesting themes. He also analyses government reports with depth, providing proper context into these reports.

On February 21, Bill wrote a stirring post about a statue of a Peeing Igorot Man at Barrio Fiesta in Baguio. Wow, was he fuming mad that there’s these statues of an Igorot man urinating against a post with a sign that says “Bawal umihi” and a security guard catching him on the act. Igorots are not savages, he wrote.

And look at what one post can do! Igorot netizens began exchanging emails calling for immediate action on the issue. Last March 1, Splasher emailed me to share the news that the infamous statue is gone. In a matter of EIGTH days, the management of Barrio Fiesta responded to the call for its removal. (Bill wrote a review of events in his blog).

I have always believed that the Net holds numerous opportunities for people to link and collaborate. And for members of minority groups like us who are often inaccurately written about by the mainstream press, cyberspace can be our best avenue for advocacy work. What I just didn’t expect is that I’d witness its immense power in just a matter of days. Simply amazing. Time to Fiesta! (pun intended)

This is how this post should look like - clear of urinating men, whether they be sculptures or living, breathing men.

The scene looks a lot better, right?

The many faces of Igorots

This morning, I went to interview some students at a retreat house for an article I'm doing for an online site. The students are from Tarlac. I got to chat with one of their teachers as I was waiting to do the interview. When he found out that I am an Igorot, he eyes got really big, and asked "Talaga?" And so I have to tell him that yes, we no longer wear tapis or g-strings, except on special occasions. And that yes, we do look a lot like other Pinoys. He just smiled and said "Ganun pala." Just to give you an idea what a breathing, living Igorot looks like, here are a few of our photos taken within the last couple of months.

As you'll notice, just like other ethnolinguistic groups such as Tagalogs, Ilocanos and Bisaya, Igorots as a group don't have a single appearance. Maybe in the past, Igorots as one group look almost the same although they belong to various ethnolinguistic groups (Ibaloi, Kankana-ey, etc). But intermarriages, migration, even the food we eat and work we do, have slowly changed the way we look.

Similarly, while many of us are poor, many others are professionals, entrepreneurs, and skilled workers. While we have beggars in Manila, we also have golfers in California, although I'd have to say they're fewer in number. But for this post, let's focus on our physical attributes.

High school students from Poblacion, Itogon, Benguet giving an upbeat song at a concert.

Kikay Igorot Nursing students share their smiles.

Apong Patani and her friends in front of the Baguio Botanical Garden. She claims to come from the boundary of Bontoc and Kalinga.

This is me and two of my good, old, reliable friends. Hehe! Two of us come from Mountain Province, while our other friend is of Mountain Province-Benguet parentage.

Photo of a friend's high school buddies from Itogon, Benguet.

Igorot priests from Mountain Province and Benguet give a concert-for-a-cause at the Baguio Convention Center.

It's not only in the way we look that we are different. We also have varying perspectives, even on issues that affect Kaigorotan as a whole. Who says Igorots are made of one solid block, anyway?

IP Voices in the Media

It’s the second year that we are observing the Second International Decade of the World’s Indigenous Peoples which began in 2005 and will end in 2015. Despite the UN’s recognition that IPs have serious concerns that need to be addressed, the mainstream media continue to ignore IPs in their coverage of the news. Even here in the Philippines, IPs are generally written about in a stereotypical, romanticized manner. (Read more about it here).

(Tourists pose with elderly Igorots in front of the Baguio Botanical Garden. Are we also partly to blame that lowlanders and the media stereotype us as poor and ignorant? More on this in my next post.)

In 2003, the UNESCO sponsored the International Forum on Local Cultural Expression and Communication and they came out with a document entitled “Giving New Voice to Endangered Cultures.”

One of the most revealing statements in that document is that “…(I)ndigenous people produce very little media about themselves.” Next, it poses the question: “How do indigenous voices and cultural systems become more widely available?”

Media student or not, we all agree that information is power. And information is media’s main product. Just imagine your day without tuning to the radio, watching TV or surfing the net. Unimaginable, di ba? But because media owners are more concerned about profit than anything, then it’s high time that we IPs produce our own media products. Thank God for the Internet, it has created another space, free (loosely speaking) at that, that encourages discussion and social networking. It's another thing that we have Marky Cielo to give a face to the Igorots as a people. Thank you, Marky, for proudly admitting that you are an IP:-)

It’s encouraging to see VCDs of Cordi musicians being sold in selected shops in Baguio. Even if the singers usually wear cowboy hats and boots, their music has rhythm and rhyme that’s uniquely Cordi. Knowledge of new technology is definitely a must for us if we intend to bring our voices to a larger audience.

I’ll be sharing some of my articles here about people and places in Cordi as an attempt to produce IP content. I think I’ve been bitten by the blog bug. Hahaha!