After the first two camps, and during the 6th week of this story we were off for a holiday as my mother came for a grand tour of the Philippinnes during an intense 16 days trip which saw us going from volcanos to paradisiac islands and ending in the mountains. This will be told in a video I will make when a powerfull PC is available.
After these three weeks we return to lovely Palanan and ready for the next adventure, Dinipan. Dinipan is situated about 15 kilometers south of the town and is peculiar in the fact that it is the only place we heard of Agta owning land. This represents about 7 hectares of rice fields which they were busy harvesting during our visit. Most adults were there from dawn to 3 in the afternoon away getting the crops needed for the rest of the year, especially during the moonsoon time.
Luckily this didn't mean we lacked activities or adventures. Many times we were invited by kids to participate in the array of games they played. Also one of our interpreters was not available so we employed a girl from the local univestiy, ISU, who was very eager to spent time with the kids. So we had myriad of games to learn and experiment with.
On day 5 we had a bit of a scare. As we were casually sitting around a house at coffee time Jomar, the chief of the village, said he had to shared some important news with us. As a matter of a fact he had heard some distressing news from several people when he was in the south a few days back. Jomar explained that an argument occured in a camp about two hours to the south and as a result two westerners and several agta families were shot dead. The grieving families were now seeking revenge, headhunter style, meaning going to any nearby camp to reclaim the lives of lost kin. This tradition was still alive until the 1910s or so and we were told it is practised in a place such as palanan due to it's remoteness and seclusion, remember no roads to get there. So what do we do? The interpreters looked a tad white and suggested a swift trip to town to find out more. We needed more info. So off we go into the small forest leading to the nearby village to enquire with it's captain. No sign of weapons sticking out of the bushes and trees on the way but we are still on guard. The place looked busy, but only for the planning of the next fiesta, music and rum, due to happen in a few weeks. Fortunately they agree to gave us a few spare minutes. The captain asks us want we know at the present and listens carefully. Then, he sits back in its chair, as for taking a moment to think, and laughs. My friends I have heard of no such story. Our land is very peaceful and you are welcome to stay around as long as you want and join for the upcoming fiesta. He offers a round of coffee. Chou blanc. We decide to call our friends in town and make our way to the signal point. This refers to the few points where mobile phone signal is available. In fact with the distance and landscape the coverage of antennas gets very patchy so there are often dedicated 1 by 1m space for mobile phone use. In our case this is between two trees on the right side of the road just after the basketball court.
In town, one week later. We have heard 10 different stories about what happened in the south such as an arguement over fishing, or mining or some sort of misunderstanding. The one common point between all of them is the absence of headhtuners. It seems that contrary to exotic concepts of tribal warriors running amok (the phrase to run amok orginates from a pacific population in which temporary insanity led men to literally go on a killing spree, called an amok), even the remotest areas of the Philippinnes is safe. As for the conclusion of our story it
just may have been related to the fact that Jomar told the story and then left for 3 days. It seems it was an Agta style warning to ensure we behave well in the absence of the master. Sadly the Agta have been tricked many times by westerners coming to try and evicate them and tear up the land in the search of the precious, well in this case gold.
The last notable anecdote of camp number 3 takes place one night at around 2AM. The weather outside haven't been great for the day with heavy rain and a bit of wind. Abbey, half-asleep informs me the strong wind is engulfing the tent and forming air pockets under it. The tent is indeed moving a bit. A quarter of an hour later I awake again. This time something strange is happening. I can feel something lifting my mat and I quite effortlessly, like I sudently had the power to levitate. Light on and lets try to get it. The floor of the tent indeed is moved by a slow oscillation. As I put my hand on it to understand I finally get it. Water, about 10 centimerters of it as guess. As we step outside we get a picture of the situation: the water is above my ankle, it is time to get a move on. We put all our possession on the former mats, now safety rafts. Bags are packed up and off we go half naked in the pouring rain shifting 10 meters to the top of a micro hill, as opposite to the very bottom. The tent definitively works well as the only annoyance was the smell of damp we had for the following week, but hey this house can nearly swim!
This is it for now, the next episode will be about Caniapan, our first excursion to the ocean and it's white sand beaches.
Love to all,
Wasabi.
No comments:
Post a Comment