Know Your Past
By Michael A. Bengwayan Ph. D
My daughter Frances once asked ‘Who are we Pa?” I paused and looked
at her. I wanted to repeat what was told to me decades ago by my great
grandma. But I dared not. We were the people of the rich valleys, lush
and thick forests; of the clear and prestine waters. We were once true
to The Way.
But then everything changed. Slowly, outsiders came. A giant called
“guvmint”came. Followed by others with forked tongues. Without
hesitation, these took the lands. They had papers showing they own the
lands. Lands that own us. Some of us were forced out to give up the
lands forever—the valleys, homes and mountains. In (Ambuklao) Bokod,
(Binga) Itogon, Mankayan, Boneng, Tublay, Tuba, the people were forced
to move to the setting sun, leaving a trail of tears. Not that our
brothers and sister Ibalois cried when they were forced out. But the
trail spoke of the sorrows of those who stood and walked in that trail.
All they did not leave though. Some, skilled in the ways of the
mountains, fled back into the bosoms of the hollows and lived there.
They farmed on the mountains, hunted, set up traps, planted and dug
sweetroot from the ground. They fished with their hands under the banks
of the cold creeks, and moved as silent as shadows. A people who were
there but not seen nor heard.
In this rich Benguetland, slowly but surely as if evilly-designed,
people called “poltishuns” and some called “eduketed” came. They did not
love the freedom of the mountains and pines. They lusted for land and
profit. They were bigger than the ogre “guvmint”. With their arrival,
the century of our early Ibalois started to die. The time of surviving
became more depressing.
I looked at my daughter. In her blood runs the strength and courage
of the once-warring and head-hunting Bontoc warriors; her heart the
peaceful, kind, patient and humble heart of the Ibalois; and the
perseverance of the Ibanags. There would be a new century for them.
There would be a time for blood, fighting and death. It will be a new
world. But she will be fighting different enemies. Like here sister
Phyllis before her, she has chosen to fight diseases that will plague
mankind. Like her elder sister Grail who is fighting ignorance by
teaching so that our people will not be cheated by the giant “guvmint”.
Like her sister Abigail much ahead of her who is fighting for human
rights. And; like her brother Michael Jr. ahead of her who is fighting
retrogress using science and technology.
I looked far out in the mountains beyond our home, towards the west.
The sun was setting, the tree spirits were rising. You couldn’t tell if
it was the wind that whispered as it swooshed across the bent pines. I
walked out of sight of the rims of the mountain Frances a step behind. I
could feel the past spirits on the talking fingers of the trees. The
sun was setting, I heard a mourning crow just above. My ancestors lived
fully in these hills. But the hills will not be here long. Just a sight
away, I could see destruction by a housing company called Go—-en as its
machines plowed the land under unmindful of death it is causing.
Slowly we walked home in silence. Frances gripping my hand.
