Three Days in Kulaman Village

I was finally able to stay in Barangay Kulaman for a while. From October 20 to 22, my brother and I visited our mother in the poblacion. She had been reassigned there as principal of the national high school since July. Our father joined us on the twenty-second, and I left for the capital town on the twenty-third. I spent three days only in the central village, but it was so far the longest I had stayed there.

I never got to visit for long the poblacion because for the residents of my home village, it is more convenient to head straight to the capital town of the province when transacting businesses. The poblacion is west of my home village, and the capital town is in the east. The difference in the fare isn’t much, and the road to the poblacion is worse than the road to the capital town. So normally, the people in my village only go to the poblacion if they have to process documents in the municipal hall.

Though my visit in Barangay Kulaman was short, I was able to accomplish there two weeks’ worth of tasks. In the coming weeks, I’ll devote a post each for the most important ones. For now, here’s the overview.

This is how big the mouth of SNANHS cave is compared to a person.

Please bear with the model. His better-looking companions

didn't want to stand near the hole themselves because something

might shoot out of the hole and bite or snatch them.

October 20, Tuesday

At 8:30 AM, my brother and I ride a skylab from our home village to the poblacion. We ask the driver to drop us at the national high school because we can’t remember where exactly our mom is staying. We knew beforehand that we would not be a disturbance in the school because it’s the last day of their periodical exams and an interschool athletic meet that the school is hosting is starting the next day. There’s no regular class. For half an hour or so, my bro and I eat lanzones in a corner in our mom’s office. I then ask some students who are chatting on a bench to show me the tiny cave inside the campus.

At noon, our mom takes my bro and me to the house where she’s staying, which is also a house of our relative. My phone rings at about one in the afternoon. The caller informs me that I’m one of the finalists in the F. Sionil Jose Young Writers Awards. I’m surprised and delighted, but the problem is that the awarding ceremonies will be on the coming Monday. I tell the caller that I’m currently very far from Manila and could not possibly make it to the event. He tells me my fare for the flight and the hotel accommodation will be sponsored. I tell him all right, I’ll be there.

With my brother, I go to the compound of Catholic nuns to see the Dulangan Manobo objects that are on display in one of the structures there. I realize I forgot to bring the list of Manobo things that I have prepared. I have no easy way of knowing the names of the displayed items. I've left the list because I’ve been thinking how to book a flight to Manila here in the middle of nowhere. I content myself with just taking photos.

I learn from my mom’s colleagues that one of them has a ticketing business and there’s already an internet café in town. It means that I no longer have to “go down” to the capital town the next day to make arrangements for my travel and to keep on communicating with F. Sionil Jose’s daughter, who called me after the guy from Philippine PEN did.

Inside the Dulangan Manobo “cultural heritage home” run by Catholic nuns

October 21, Wednesday

I start the day with a hot drink made from powdered marang seeds in the house of my uncle, my mom’s landlord. Marang, which looks like a cross between jackfruit and durian, is a common fruit in Mindanao, but it’s my first time to take it in a drink form, a la hot coffee. The seeds were dried and ground, and the powder looks and tastes so much like soybeans.

When my bro wakes up, I ask him to go with me to Kulaman River to bathe. Our four-year-old niece tags along and acts as our guide. The little girl and I bathe. My brother doesn’t. The girl loves the water, and my bro and I have a hard time persuading her to get out of it to go back home.

In the afternoon, my bro and I spend a few hours in the only Internet café in town. The café has six or seven computers only, and customers often have to wait for fifteen minutes to more than an hour before a station is vacated. Later, we eat batchoy in a stall and watch the parade of athletes. Five zones from the towns of Senator Ninoy Aquino and Bagumbayan will be competing against one another in the next two days; the winning teams will then represent the unit in the provincial meet in November. The batchoy, at best, tastes all right. Local cuisine is one thing that still needs to be developed in Kulaman Plateau.

Morning dip in Kulaman River with my niece

October 22, Thursday

I was told the previous day that there’s a busay, or waterfall, near the river, so I decide to check it out with my brother. There’s a waterfall right beside the river, but it’s just more than a meter high and the water isn’t much stronger than a trickle. I deduce that the waterfall I was told about is behind the tiny waterfall, hidden by tall weeds. To see the hidden waterfall, I have to cross the river, climb the tiny waterfall, and walk the narrow path behind. I try going to the opposite bank, but I can’t find a spot that is shallow enough to wade through. I have to swim. I decide to abandon the plan. I’m afraid to swim because I can only do it in steady waters and short distances and because I’m not familiar with the river’s current and all.

My bro and I go back to the nuns’ compound because I have to make more-detailed notes on the Manobo objects displayed there. Because I’m no longer distracted, worrying about how to book a flight, my second visit to the compound turns out to more productive. With the help of some Manobo high school students, I’m finally able to identify most of the items listed in the Kitab (Customary Law) of the Dulangan Manobo.

I finally get my plane ticket at noontime. I ride a motorcycle to my home village to get a traveling bag and some pairs of shoes. The travel to my village and then back to the poblacion takes about an hour and a half. I can clearly see that the haze coming from the forest fires in Indonesia is getting worse. It looks as though there’s rain on the hills in the distance, but I’m sure that there’s no rain because there are no massive dark clouds in the sky. The sky—and indeed, the world—is covered in gray.

I’m writing more-detailed accounts of my trip to Kulaman Village, and I’m posting them every Friday for the next several weeks. This “Three Days in Kulaman” series will run parallel with “The Other Towns” series, which started last month and appears every Monday.