at home on the rocks
HOW DO YOU CATCH AN OCTOPUS WITH A PIECE OF WOOD? EXACTLY HOW UNPLEASANT IS PANGLAOING? AND WHY ATTEMPT DEATH DEFYING FEATS OF CLIFF CLIMBING? LESTER V LEDESMA MEETS THE TAGBANUA TRIBE. PHOTOGRAPHS BY LESTER V LEDESMA
This is how we make our living,” says Ernesto, an elderly member of the Tagbanua tribe. With his spectacles and balding hair, he looks very much like a man in his 60s, yet he walks around with the energy of a person half his age. I am with a group of tourists on a picturesque white sand beach. Before us stands a towering gray cliff and Ernesto, with his soft voice and silver beard. We are on the island of Coron, off the coast of Busuanga in the Philippine province of Palawan. It may be prominent on the itinerary of most sightseeing groups, but we are on no ordinary tour.
Ernesto glances at the massive rock face and then gets back to the business at hand. He holds up a length of rope, some tree bark and a small wicker bag – the tools of his trade – and begins to climb the limestone wall.
As we crane our necks upwards, slowly following his progress, we can’t help but hold our breath in disbelief. With surprising ease he pulls himself up, his calloused hands and feet reaching for cracks and crevices to hold on to. Near the top – that’s at least seven stories high – he stops and waves down to the group. For a short while he disappears into a cave, then reappears and starts his descent. All of this takes no more than half an hour.
He is met on the ground with applause and then opens his bag to reveal what he brought down – tiny white, rubbery birds’ nests formed from the saliva of the Cave-dwelling Swift (Collocalia troglodytes). They may not look edible now, but they will eventually end up on tables throughout Asia as the expensive main ingredient in Chinese birds’ nest soup.
Ernesto’s demonstration is a rare peek into a lifestyle that few have seen. For centuries, the island of Coron, with its virgin forests and primeval limestone cliffs, has been home to the reclusive Tagbanua, a people traditionally recognized as the gatherers of balinsasayaw (the local term for the birds’ nests). Most outsiders know little about this ethnic group, save for their unusual livelihood and the fact that they keep mostly to themselves. Historians, however, believe that they inhabited this region long before the first Westerners arrived. Antonio Pigafetta, the Italian navigator who chronicled Ferdinand Magellan’s “discovery” of the Philippine archipelago in 1521, noted their fondness for brassware, and their use of blowpipes and arrows for hunting. Local schools also mention the Tagbanua as one of the country’s major tribal groups, their ancestors hailing all the way from Borneo, some 500 miles to the south.
Indeed, I’ve encountered Ernesto’s kind many times in my trips to this area, but it’s only now that I’ve realized just how special these fabled cliff climbers are. My curiosity aroused, the following morning I pay a visit to Al Linsangan in the mainland town of Coron, just across the water from the island of the same name. This Busuanga native used to live with the Tagbanua as a community liaison for the local government, and is one of the very few outsiders to have been accepted by the tribes as one of their own. He tells me a bit more about their islander-neighbors.
“The Tagbanua have always minded their own business”, notes the 30-year-old photographer. “It’s ironic that their ancestral home is so beautiful that people couldn’t stay away from it.”
Apparently, the Tagbanuas have lived quietly here for eons, blissfully unaware that their neighborhood was fast becoming a tourist destination. “Coron is the spiritual home of the Tagbanua”, explains Al. “When the visitors first came in the late 1980s, they didn’t quite know how to deal with them”.
Coron is home to about 2,000 Tagbanuas, most of them based in two major villages. However, with alarming regularity, tour boats landed on these shores, carrying sight seers who frolicked in the waters and trekked inland toward their sacred lakes. Furthermore, they left behind trash, and generated noise that disturbed the nesting activities on nearby cliffs. The Tagbanua knew that such behavior would have grave consequences to their way of life, so they banded together to assert their claim to their home. In 1998, the Philippine government awarded them a Certificate of Ancestral Domain Claim, which gave them jurisdiction over Coron and a number of neighboring islands. These days, tourists are still a common sight around here, but their presence is now regulated by a passport system that allows them access to eight specific sites on the island. These include a handful of white sand beaches, as well as two stunningly beautiful lakes (Barracuda and Kayangan Lake) ringed by those distinctive cliffs. The Tagbanua believe that limiting visits to these places deters destructive mass tourism.
With Al’s endorsement to the tribal leaders, I was able to get permission to visit their island communities. However, it is a long process of formal letters and courtesy calls and is certainly not made easy. At the community of Banuang Daan, on the island’s northern coast, we follow earthen trails past a rustic backdrop of wooden huts and palm trees. In the shadow of those familiar limestone formations, we chat with a local elder, Nong Nemesio, about the upcoming nest-gathering season.
“The harvesting runs from December until May when the birds build their nests on the cave walls up there,” Nong explains, pointing to the mountaintops above us. They typically wait for the chicks to abandon the nest before they take it, therefore ensuring the survival of the creatures. “Each family here is in charge of caves that they inherited from their forefathers.
Since everyone knows which clans take care of which caves, conflicts over harvesting rights are avoided.”
Disagreements between the gatherers are surprisingly rare, given the high prices that their commodity fetches. On a good month, a Tagbanua family can easily earn PHP50,000/ USD1,233.50 selling these nests to the Chinese agents in town. The number seems impressive, but it comprises most of their income for the rest of the year.
Although the older Tagbanuas never kept track of their age, Nong guesses that he was “about eight” when he first climbed these rock walls.
“I saw my father do it, so I just followed him up there,” he recalls. I ask him if women are allowed to go with the men. “Of course they can climb if they want to… but they prefer to leave the hard work to the males,” answers the elder.
At the village of Cabugao, we spend the night in the home of our Tagbanua host, Darwin.
Over gin, candlelight (there is no electricity in Coron) and a plateful of pugita – a huge octopus boiled in water and Sprite – we talk about everyday life. During the non -nesting months, when fishing is the occupation of choice, Darwin works as a middle man selling the community’s daily catch to vendors in town. Some of his neighbors do other things to get by; a few tribesmen produce tuyo – dried, salted fish – while others farm cashew nuts in their backyards. Both products are also sold in the mainland.
As the evening passes, I discover some other things as well. We are told that the Coron Tagbanuas used to embrace an animist religion before Catholic and Protestant missionaries converted them; that they catch pugita by dangling a piece of wood studded with hooks underwater. “The octopus thinks it’s food and tries to eat it. Of course we end up eating it!” Darwin explains. We also learn that Tagbanua history is oral, and that centuries-old legends exist about folk heroes battling the Spaniards and the Moros. Instead of listening to their elders narrate these tales, however, the kids these days would rather troop to the generator-run “moviehouse” next door – its owner has built a wooden shack around a cheap, Chinese-made TV and a VCD player. Screening time is every night after the fishermen have returned, and currently the most popular shows are old Fernando Poe Jr and Bong Revilla blockbusters.
At one point the conversation drifts toward tribal justice, during which our host describes the application of the dreaded panglao, a punishment reserved only for the gravest offences. The criminal has his feet bound to a bamboo log. Grated coconut is placed inside the hollow trunk to attract ants and, while the criminal suffers from thousands of fiery stings, he is lashed with a whip made from sturdy rattan. “The last time we did that was in 2004, when our elders caught an illegal logger in our forest,” Darwin adds.
A neighbor sends us a bowl of nilupak – a sort of pudding made from banana and sweet potato, most likely mashed together using a centuries-old mortar and pestle – and the talking continues well into the night. By the time the roosters begin crowing (that’s around 4am – the Tagbanua do not use clocks), my companion and I have had our fill of food and gin, and retire for a few hours sleep.
Come sunrise, our host takes us back to town, and I leave the island with a smile on my face, knowing it is well cared for by the people who love it most. As the Tagbanua continue to thrive in Coron, so too will this island with its natural wonders. Despite the slow and steady encroachment of the modern world and its temptations, their sense of identity remains strong, and their way of life endures.
USEFUL DETAILS
You need to have an entrance pass, which can be purchased for about PHP200/USD5 from most travel agencies in the town of Coron. This document provides access to eight sites. To get a closer look into this tribe’s world, ask about the Tagbanua Tours.
Coron is also famous for its diving and has a sunken fleet of World War Two-era Japanese warships. Accommodation, tours and transport can be booked at Coron Galeri Lokal, 11 San Agustin Street, Barangay Poblacion 3, Coron, Palawan, tel (+63919) 305 4363 or (+63920) 254 6553, www.geocities.com/palawantours/
HOW TO GET THERE
Fly to Puerto Princesa on Cebu Pacific Air. Then take a boat trip to Coron, journey time about 12 hours
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