Charito Santiago had spent all his life looking for hidden treasures left by fleeing Japanese soldiers in World War II. With fellow prospectors and wanderers, he had dug many a hole around Kulaman (official name: Senator Ninoy Aquino), a town in Sultan Kudarat situated some 800 meters above sea level. He didn’t know that the Japanese could not have set foot in his hometown. The invaders had occupied major cities and towns, such as Davao and Koronadal, and Kulaman in 1940s was a dense jungle populated only by loosely organized Manobo people.
Santiago had become a senior citizen—his missing teeth had made him look as though he was sucking in his cheeks; his bronze skin had turned gray, like fresh-from-the-sack cement—and the hidden Japanese treasure still remained hidden from him. His family was only able to make both ends meet because he farmed and did some odd jobs when not digging holes. In 2005, with a string of failures behind him and the clock ticking, Santiago had almost given up his dream of finding the elusive treasure, when a Manobo friend of his told him of something that brought vigor to his veins. He felt as though he was young again, and endless possibilities—bottomless wealth!—were waiting for him. Kampo Dapat, a tribal chieftain, told Santiago that he had discovered a “tunnel.”
Like his Ilocano friend Santiago, Datu Dapat was nearing the end of his life. He was younger than Santiago, but he would die much sooner, as Manobo people had shorter life-spans and were more susceptible to diseases than the Christian settlers, who started flocking to Kulaman in search of fertile soil in 1970s.
The tunnel was near the top of a mountain, about 900 meters above sea level, and the mountain was not distinct from the other peaks around it—filled with towering trees and weeds that were taller than human beings. At first what Dapat saw was a mere groove on a wall of rock and not a tunnel. He did not even notice the opening until a bird flew past him and disappeared into it. The hole was large enough for a puny man like Dapat to crawl in, but he did not dare venture in. He had a suspicion that the tunnel would lead him into a lair of pythons, but much more than the huge snakes, he was afraid of a busaw, or evil spirit, that might be inhabiting in the hole.
No python or busaw could get in Santiago’s way to his last chance at finding a chest filled with gold bars or a gilded statue of Buddha. Armed with a spade and four flashlights, he inched his way through the tunnel. The spade was almost useless. He could barely budge, and he had to crawl like a python. His hand pushed and scooped aside the sticky mud as he moved forward. He could barely breathe, and he could not tell if it was because of excitement of being so close to a treasure or because of decreased amount of oxygen in the air.
About seven meters from the entrance, as Santiago was about to lose his breath, he felt cold air caress his face. He had reached the end of the tunnel. But instead of bumping into a metallic chest inscribed with Japanese characters, he was ushered into an immense space. He pointed his flashlight straight ahead, and the ray of light dispersed in the darkness. Something screeched, and the sound brought disappointment instead of fear in Santiago’s heart. He instantly recognized the sound as that of a bat—just a bat. It meant he had discovered a cave—just a cave, not necessarily a hideaway for stolen treasures.
As Santiago stood up and stared at the nothingness in front of him, he wondered if all his efforts were worth it. The cave was in Siokong, a sitio, or hamlet, of Barangay Kuden. Though Santiago was living in the same village, Siokong was quite far from his home at the center of the village. From the barangay hall, he had traveled by motorcycle on rough road for nearly two hours to reach Datu Dapat’s home in Sitio Siokong. Datu Dapat and he then climbed the mountain on foot for about forty minutes. He wondered if he should continue exploring the cave or if he should go out to the mouth, where Datu Dapat waited for him.
Cave exploration did not excite Santiago much. Kulaman, a plateau with Karstic topography, had more than a hundred caves scattered all over—or under—it, each boasting of its own magnificence. While he could appreciate the beauty of nature, leisure was not Santiago’s priority. He wanted to spend the years left in him searching furiously for the gold that could be measured in karats, not like someone on pension basking at the sight of golden grains at the tip of stalactites that no pawnshop would accept.
Despite the failure that just hit him, Santiago’s spirit had not been dampened enough to make him abandon the quest. He had the indomitable spirit of a treasure hunter. After all, though the tunnel did not lead to the chest of gold, the chest might be buried somewhere inside the cave. He plodded along.
(The second part will be posted next month.)
