Kalinga, Northern Philippines 1986

April 27, 1986 Bontoc

Bontoc is a strange sort of place. Plenty of ugly concrete buildings, shops, even a sidewalk; modernisation sure can be ugly at times. Yet in these inhuman surroundings are men walking about in their g-strings, women with fully tattooed arms and a general feeling of some pretty wild people.

Tonight when we walked home and passed by a group of college students on holidays who were singing and drinking gin under a street light, our guide Junior provided us with more information. Apparently they are quite harmless and they have boxing matches later in the night. The fights are the safe kind, without knives as they use further south.

The Philippines army is in evidence. They are changing the guard so a great deal of troop transport is taking place. Two days ago, NPA guerrillas ambushed and killed nine army soldiers, nearby, further up the Chico River. Army officers have taken residence on the floor below us. We hope the NPA doesn't decide to assault their bedroom!

Another trekking hint for this region; don't use a flashlight because only the army uses the electronic torch and you may be mistaken as a victim to the NPA. We won't use our flashlight but will rely on the authentic native torch.

May 1, 1986, by a brook, high in the mountains in the Kalinga area.

It's rugged country. the hills are extremely steep. Rice terraces are cut right out of the steep slopes with stone walls as high as 4 metres. The people are rugged as well; it's a hard life. the efforts of manual labour are evident in the walk of older people,; they walk hunched over at almost a 90 degree angle.

We dined at the Bontoc Hotel with Gabriel and Laurence, a couple from Switzerland, when Junior our guide joined us to discuss our upcoming adventure. We became four and all set out at 1:00 p.m. on a jeepney up the Chico River. Gabriel and I rode up top , at one point we eyed a tank in the bushes below the road. It had been ambushed two months prior by the NPA. Fourteen soldiers were killed in that skirmish. We all jumped off the vehicle and found that our planned night stop wasn't possible as that village was having a rest day (no outsiders are permitted).

Bugnay it was. Joshua and Jean had warned us about that particular village. Known for its sometimes irritable behavior with tourists. Bugnay looks wonderful form the distance. It is a collection of wooden huts set in luxuriant rice terrace that warms up the eyes. It's really an exquisite sight. We came across the bridge which poor old Joshua couldn't cross when he was there. It was impossible for him to access the river from the west side. Joshua had a fairly severe case of agrophobia. He can't cross bridges nor easily fly in airplanes. Many years later, I cannot recall how he got over the river, if at all. Joshua and Jean are a couple we met in Bohol who created our interest in the Kalinga mountain region and pointed us in the right direction.

When we arrived in the village, a large reception of kids and adults greeted us and before no time, they were clamoring for matches and sweets. Once we got that ordeal out of the way, we wandered through the village. There was quite an assortment of older people in traditional dress and the village was fascinating. We were often greeted with demands for matches and we obliged after we took a few photographs. It was a hardened village and incompatibly developed for tourism. In any case it was wonderful walking through the rice paddies to the water source.

That evening after we had eaten rice and the raw vegetables we had brought with us, we watched a hill blaze in a grass fire across the Chico river. Armed NPA crossed the compound and headed down the trail as we bedded down on the hard wooden floor.

The following morning we arose to a rice breakfast then headed down the hill, across the bridge, past an army outpost and then up a hill through grassland (grazing) and brushland. With sweat on our brows, we sighted the village of Buscalen, then descended down to a stream for a well needed bath in a small pool of water. Once refreshed, we climbed up 75 metres to the village.

Buscalen is a medium size village of perhaps 50 houses. We walked through the maze of the town, up steps to a home of Junior's cousin and then waited until the excitement of our arrival subsided.

We wandered through the wooden huts, a few of which had galvanized roofing. Grass roofs must be replaced each five years, whereas metal roofing lasts more than 20 years. A group of young men hung around the XX (I didn't write the name down) , in effect a club house. Buscalen is NPA territory. Below us, an hour away, the army patrols the road with tanks and trucks. Later we would find that the army operates from higher than the village of ButteButte. but in Buscalen, the NPA works freely.

Batad. May 3, 1986.

Our evening in Buscalen was perhaps the highlight of our trek. Before dinner we sat in the main room and a group of young men came in and played the nose flute. Then we engaged ourselves in a game of balance which was almost impossible for men to do, but easily accomplished by women. We all roared with laughter as the tough men all came forward confidently but were unable to perform the exercise of lifting an object from the ground while leaning over at a 90 degree angle.

Later, after dinner, a group of young women came into the house. After puberty, all women sleep together in a dormitory and entertain the men. If a man sleeps with a woman and she conceives, it's time for marriage. In any case, the women were there and several performed on the nose flute. It's a strange sight to see a girl gracefully playing a beautiful melodic song with a flute shoved to her nose. It's one of those strange sights and reminded me of Inle Lake in Burma, where they often paddle with their feet. Gabriel was taping a recital and everyone kept quiet until one girl let off a fart. We all suppressed the laughter until we all simultaneously burst out into a roar of laughs which continued for a long time and made our sides sore! A nice experience with the young generation of the village.

That evening, as I went for my pre-bed pee, I watched flashlights come down from the hills. NPA soldiers often return to their villages at night to see their families. That evening was more special than most, as Father Balug, the leader of the NPA stayed in Buscalen. the next morning NPA soldiers were clearly in evidence and apparently Father Balug was closely guarded. With frequent military patrols, we weren't offered an audience with the father. Joyce, our guide, told us that without the military in the area, things are more relaxed. She has on occasion, run ammunition in from Bontoc, although she is not a NPA supporter, per se.

The people of Kalinga are tribal and former headhunters. Tribal wars were common and have not been completely eradicated. Strangers or sometimes unaccompanied tourists are not always welcomed and can be eyed with suspicion, particularly in NPA strongholds. However, we were accorded particularly warm receptions and often invited to eat something. Gabriel was given a small straw hat which the men wear, by an older fellow in ButteButte.

We ate rice and taro for the most part which was supplemented by food which we had brought along (vegetables) and by dried beans and the native coffee.

The rice terraces of the Mountain Province and Kalinga are magnificent. Terraces are cut out of the mountain. They are held together by stone walls and are fed by a fairly elaborate irrigation system. They are blessed with mountain springs. The clean water emerges from deep inside the mountain and is distributed to the paddies by an elaborate canal system. Although the springs are often small, they provide sufficient water to the bulk of the terraces. Higher above us in the Batad area are the additional crops of kamoti (sweet potato), taro and corn. In Kalinga province, the villages are at a higher elevation and they grow their kamoti, beans, coffee and vegetables much closer to the houses.

There can be enormous distances between places of work, whether they be rice fields, forests for firewood, grasslands for roofs, but the hills are steeper than, for instance, the Himalayas. Life isn't easy for these people. The older people walk hunched over, their faces are weathered, the traditional way of life in the mountains is severe.

Tonight as we emerged from eating, we could see the lights below near the Batad village proper. In the mornings, the spring water flows into the upper terraces. By night, the water is allowed to flow to the lower terraces, closer to the actual village. Very civilized.

The walk to ButteButte from Buscalen passed through Locong village where we ate the proverbial Kamoti, accompanied by snails, beans, camote greens and a cup of native coffee. We turned down another offer of food. Later we bathed and entered ButteButte and stayed in a fine house. It was a quiet night and a peaceful village, also incidentally watched and patrolled by the military. The NPA-military situation is complex and support runs for both groups. There are minimal confrontations, although the NPA does indeed ambush central government patrols. We never felt threatened; the armies keep the fighting to themselves away from civilians.

From Butte Butte, we descended sharply to the road, bathed in the fast moving Chico River, and later caught a Jeepney into Bontoc.

It took us sometime to come down from the trek. Junior & Joyce were an endless source of information and were very sincere people. We wish their continued success.