Deadly Horse Meat

Horses are a common sight in Kulaman Plateau. In a primarily agricultural town with inadequately developed farm-to-market roads, farmers often rely on horses to transport produce.

In April this year, seven people died and more than a hundred got sick in Kulaman Plateau due to eating probably contaminated horse meat. I learned the news soon after it came out in several websites, but I was only able to read more about it recently. As far as my research is concerned, the case remains a mystery as of this writing.

From reading the news articles about the case, I discovered some interesting things, both directly and indirectly related to the case. First is that the lede, or introductory paragraph, of most of the articles is confusing. It’s not clear from them what occurred on Wednesday, April 2, 2014—the deaths or the consumption of horse meat. Based on several online sources, let me narrate what happened in chronological order and identify for you which of the facts are established:

April 2
Sixteen residents of Sitio Parreño, Barangay Tinalon, were rushed to the municipal hospital of Senator Ninoy Aquino (SNA). They showed “symptoms of food poisoning”: severe headache, vomiting, stomach pain, diarrhea. They had eaten horse meat. The meat was “double dead,” which means that the animals were already dead when they were butchered.

It’s not clear how many horses died and were eaten; one report states that there were four dead horses, another states five, and others state “several.” It’s not also clear when exactly the victims consumed the meat—possibly on April 2 or the day before.

Because the municipal hospital “lacked nurses, oxygen and medicine” (with which I’m not surprised), the sixteen patients were transferred to the provincial hospital, in the municipality of Isulan.

April 3
Sources from the provincial hospital told Mindanews that five victims had died. It’s not clear if all the victims died in the provincial hospital or some of them died in SNA.

April 4
According to the Philippine Star, sources from SNA told Bombo Radyo that four had died. The report states the names of the victims, but it’s not clear if all the victims died in the provincial hospital or some of them died in SNA.

April 6
According to ABS-CBN, sources from the provincial agriculture office told Philippine Star that “at least 70 more” residents of Brgy. Tinalon got sick, bringing the total number of victims to more than a hundred. The report states that four of the victims has died. The report also states that the veterinarians “expressed belief the horse’s meat might have been infected with a viral disease.” This was the first instance that a possible viral infection came into the picture.

May 14
Interaksyon reported that the regional health office had sent blood samples of the victims to laboratories in the US and Japan to help determine what caused their deaths. The report states that seven people died.

So what was the real cause of the tragedy? As mentioned earlier, the mystery has not been resolved. Next Monday, I’ll share with you some of my thoughts on the issue. I’m doubtful about the viral infection angle, but I don’t have enough knowledge on medicine, so what I have to say about that matter isn’t significant. But I believe I have some interesting things to say about the practice of eating horse meat here in Kulaman Plateau. Hint: No, I am not against killing horses.

Interaksyon, the companion website of TV5, posted an erroneous map. The map is that of Sultan Kudarat town, Maguindanao Province. The horse meat poisoning happened here in Senator Ninoy Aquino town, Sultan Kudarat Province.

How the Plateau Connects with the Plains

We subscribe to Cignal, the most commonly used satellite TV provider here in the plateau. The brand irks me because it is often confused with the word signal. I have no major issues with its service, though. If memory serves me right, the package (a satellite dish, a box that looks like a CD player, cables, and a remote control) cost P3,999 and came with a four-month subscription. After that, we had to pay for the monthly subscription, the price of which depends on the number of channels you want. We subscribe to the cheapest package; for 300, we get to let all local channels kill our brain cells. It also has Al Jazeera and Korea’s Channel M.

A cellphone antenna, which works only for the phased-out Nokia 3310. We no longer use this because there’s always a problem with the phone, the wirings, or the signal. There’s also a normal (but not regular) cellphone signal in certain parts of the village, so as far as I know antennas such as this serve as mere decorations now. If you want a textmate from our boondocks, find someone from the town center, where the signal for major cellphone networks are more reliable. By the way, can you spot the moon in the photo?

Forget about climbing a coconut tree to find a cellphone signal. Here we do it atop cropped bamboo trunks. Locals call such a spot “signalan” or “texter’s zone.”

Logo for the Portal

While thinking about the introduction for this post, I thought of this sentence: “I wasted two hours of my life creating a logo for this blog.” After seeing my final product, however, I don’t feel at all that the time I spent was time wasted.

I’m no graphic designer, and I have no aspiration to be one, so of course, the logo I’ve created isn’t much to look at. Not Olympics-worthy. But I’m pleased with myself. For this blog, I was again forced to be more creative, to do something I usually don’t dare to do, just like what happened when I had to draw the burial jars in the Silliman University Anthropological Museum because picture taking was not allowed (or, more accurately, because the surveillance camera was right above the jars).

The logo is really nothing more than the letter P inside three circles whose sides touch at some points. The letter stands of course for portal and plateau. I didn’t use two P’s or PTTP (for Portal to the Plateau) because it would be more work for me. I felt that the more complex the design, the greater my chance of screwing up. The simpler the better, as the cliché goes.

Don’t ask me what the three circles mean. They don’t freaking mean anything. The shape does not represent cycle of life, the world, or similar stuff. The number of circles does not represent a number of places, persons, or tribes. They’re there for aesthetic purposes. While I’m at it, let me tell you that the color, likewise, has no particular significance. I used red to match the dominant color of the layout of this blog, and I chose this design template because this seems to be the most “tribal” among the templates Blogger offers.

Using the logo, I also created a masthead (or a Facebook cover photo, though I didn’t bother to check if the size is appropriate). For the URL, I used the font MV Boli, which I’ve been using recently to mark the photos in this blog. I want to use Longfoot in Pixlr.com, but the font seems to be exclusive only to the website, and as I’ve told you in my previous posts, I’m back here in Kulaman Plateau, where there’s no reliable Internet connection. So I mark my photos now using MV Boli, which is available in Microsoft products and in PhotoScape, a free and downloadable photo editing software.

I’m not changing yet the header of this blog. For the meantime, I’m using the logo and the masthead for posts and pages only. If ever I change the header, I might incorporate the image of Ilyan Hill that I manipulated using PhotoScape. It’s a red silhouette of the mystical hill, and I also spent two hours tinkering with the original image. It took that long because I was just starting to explore the software. Again, it wasn’t time wasted. I think no matter the output, the time I spend for this blog is never time wasted.

My Mother’s Garden

The cold climate of Kulaman Plateau allows the people in it to grow almost any kind of flower. My mother is one of those people who take advantage of the opportunity. In almost every house we’ve lived (we’ve moved three or four times just within our village), she would always turn the front yard into a flower garden. Heck, even the backyard.

My mother loves working the earth. It’s her garden that she tends to first thing in the morning. She studied agricultural economics, in fact, but by some twist of fate winded up a high school principal.

I’ve never lent a hand in weeding or landscaping the garden because the remnant of my old obsessive-compulsive self hates getting my hands dirty, but whenever I go back home and bum around, some people ask me if it’s the garden I get myself busy with. I politely and truthfully answer no. In fact, I began to appreciate the flowers in our yard just recently. I would barely glance at the garden before. Now, whenever I find time in my hands, I take photos of the flowers.

Below are some of my photos. Red anthuriums occupy more than half of the garden, but I find the purple and lavender flowers more attractive, so I chose the photos of the latter.

The Mellifluous Manobo Language

You don’t need to come here in Kulaman Plateau to hear the Dulangan Manobo speak in their own tongue. There are recordings of the language available online. One is in Youtube, and as you can see, I embedded the video in this post. Looking at the thumbnail, you might think that the video is an animated clip. It’s not. It’s just an audio recording with an accompanying still image.

I searched for the English transcript of the recording, but I wasn’t able to find any. I also searched for the English and Filipino versions of the video, but I wasn’t able to find an exact match. However, there are many similar Youtube videos from the same uploader. They were all created to help spread the story of Jesus in different parts of the world. When I listened to the video above, I immediately recognized Nemula, which is the Dulangan Manobo term for God.

Though I can’t fully understand the video, it led me to something much more helpful. Global Recordings Network has a set of audio Bible stories with corresponding scripts—in English! The organization produces, among other materials, audio recordings “that are designed for evangelism and basic Bible teaching to bring the gospel message to people who are not literate or are from oral cultures.” The recordings have a combined length of 27 minutes and 15 seconds. Each of the eight stories run only for a little more than three minutes and can be downloaded.

If you want to learn further the Dulangan Manobo language, you may check out the resources that I featured in this blog almost two years ago. The materials are from the website of the Summer Institute of Linguistics, and included is a book that has translations of Manobo words in Visayan, Tagalog, and English. Dutu a de (good-bye) for now!

Where to Buy Kulaman Coffee

The official outlet of BrownCup Kulaman Coffee, in Barangay Poblacion, Municipality of Senator Ninoy Aquino. The “take-home” center is just along the national highway to Lebak town; you don’t have to go inside the poblacion. Across the store is an open area where heavy equipment from the provincial capitol is usually parked. Also nearby is Seaoil gasoline station.

The smallest pack, containing 100 grams of ground coffee, is P40 each (P45 in some resale stores). Gacayan General Merchandise manufactures BrownCup coffee. For orders and inquiries, contact 0929-462-6173 or gacayancoffee@yahoo.com.

As far as I know, BrownCup is so far the only Kulaman Coffee trademark. Kudos to whoever designed the tasteful logo. Maybe someday I'll also create my own brand.

Photo of Burial Jars in Silliman

Picture taking is not allowed at the University of Silliman Anthropological Museum, so when I wrote about the Kulaman jars in it, my blog post had an accompanying drawing instead of photos. Those who have been to the museum would probably say that my drawing is really more a caricature than a realistic representation of the actual archaeological artifacts. I won’t disagree. I am not contented myself with the lame illustration. That’s why I feel compelled to show you an actual photo of the jars.

I had the photo in my file long before I was able to set foot in Dumaguete. If I remember it right, I took it from a forum website, but I didn’t bother to take note of the address and other relevant information because I had no intention of using it here in my blog. I wanted to visit Dumaguete and take photos of the burial jars there myself. As it happened, however, I was able to visit the city but couldn’t take the photos. Thus, for this post, I’ll break my self-imposed rule of using only my own photos in this blog. With your sight, I want you to feel more the presence of the jars.

My drawing of the largest Kulaman jars

in Silliman Museum

A photo of Kulaman burial jars in Silliman University

Museum, taken before 2013 and posted in a forum website

A cropped screenshot from the Silliman University website

My drawing shows the largest jars in the collection. When I visited the museum, the five jars were on the floor and the rest of the collection was on top of a platform. I no longer remember clearly, but I think the rest of the collection was encased in glass. It was composed of smaller jars, lids, trinkets, and shards of pottery. The photo, meanwhile, shows that the jars used to have a different arrangement and were all displayed on top of a platform. Like my drawing, the photo does not show the complete collection. Notice that I numbered the jars in the images above. I did it so that you can identify which jars are the same.

Now here’s a curious thing about item number 4: I don’t remember seeing it in the three occasions that I visited the museum. I think that at the back of my mind, I looked for it. I had seen its image at the website of Silliman University. Among the artifacts from Kulaman Plateau, only the lid, a miniature upper body of a man, is the only piece that is displayed at the website. It looks smooth, pure white, and gleaming at the site. Maybe that's why I wasn't able to notice it. When seen in person, it might be rough in texture and off-white in color, as with the other items. Or is it no longer part of the collection?

Tinalon Cave Resort

The official name of the resort is Elan’s Haven. But if you’re asking directions from the locals, just say “Tinalon swimming pool.” If you use the official name, the person you’re asking might think you want to go to heaven. The entrance fee is P25 for an adult and P10 for a child. Cottage fee is P150.

The resort has two swimming pools. One has a depth of four to five feet, the other two and a half feet. The walls and floors, made of concrete, are slippery with moss, so you must be careful.

The water in the swimming pools comes from the stream that flows through a cave. If you

peer at this photo closer, you can see the small mouth of the cave under the trees. We didn’t go inside the cave because you have to pay P15 per head and P100 for the tour guide. You also have to rent flashlights for P20 each, and the flashlights look as though they were bought for P20. I guess the prices are affordable enough for those who come from urban areas, but my relatives and I are not willing to waste such an amount because there’s also a cave in our farm in another village. We can go in and out of “our” cave as often as we want without paying a single centavo, and according to persons who have been to both caves, the two look as ugly.

The murky koi pond. There’s still so much to be improved in the resort, but for now, it’s the best in Kulaman, so just love your own, I guess. The water in the swimming pools is fresh and cold anyway, and it doesn’t hurt if you open your eyes underwater.

The gardens in the resort are not well-maintained, but I like this spot.

The Well

Villagers used to fetch water—and more—from

a big well at the foot of these trees.

After days of staying at home revising a few stories, I woke up one Sunday with an unusual (for me) desire to walk around the village. There isn’t much to see in our Third World neighborhood, so I decided to visit an abandoned well near my old elementary school. The well is no longer in use because large pipes now carry water from springs nearby to large tanks at the center of the village, and a web of small pipes carry the water from the tanks to the houses.

The well is in the boundary of the campus and two or three private lots. It is at least a hundred meters away from the nearest classroom or house, and the area around it is sloping, so it looks as though it’s at the bottom of a basin—a marshy basin filled with weeds, vines, and trees. To get near the water source, I had to try two or three paths. Along the way, bushes or deep mud would block me.

The well is right at the heart of the village. Though the immediate vicinity of the well is not crowded, from above, it would look as though the village was built around the water source. Houses fan out from it. And it was indeed the center of village life. The village didn’t have a plaza. (The barangay hall with covered court was built only in the 1990s.) So the well was where the people normally socialized—while, of course, fetching water, bathing, or doing the laundry. No one could tell how many romances blossomed from the mundane activities the people engaged in at the well.

When I was a kid, I was in awe of this well because it seemed so big.

Coming back 17 years later, I’m surprised that it’s just

approximately the size of a four-foot drum.

I don’t have much memory of the well because my family, in the 1990s, lived far from the center of the village. Our home lot was wide, at least seven hectares maybe, and we had our own private well, though some neighbors would share with it. I remember, though, that the well near the elementary school was regarded as the well. It was the mother of all wells, the well of all wells, the well to end all wells. It was the largest, most accessible, most used, and most modern. While the other wells were made of rocks and soil, it was made of culvert. While the others were not even waist-high, it was deep enough for an adult to drown in it (if he’s drunk or dunked into the well headfirst). The water from it quenched the thirst, cleaned the bodies, and washed the clothes of dozens of people every day. It was a source of life, no less.

OK. I must stop now, before I hail the well the true, hidden location of the Garden of Eden.

Water still flows from the well, turning the place around it into a mini marsh, a sanctuary for common plant life and tiny animals. Mournful cries of crows have replaced the chatter of people. Residents of the village are probably happy that they no longer have to use the well. They no longer have to walk for a hundred meters and carry containers and heavy basins. I’m tempted to be sentimental and feel pity for the well, highly valued once but now forgotten. But I know that the water does not exist for human beings. It will continue to flow. It will continue to nurture whatever life-form wants to benefit from its natural powers.