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An Analysis of Selected Tagakaulo Oral Narratives

The name Tagakaulo denoted the tribe’s preferred settlement in the headwaters of rivers and mountain streams (Gloria 1993). There are two versions as to how the Tagkaulos got separated from their mother tribe, the Kalagans. According to Gilles (2003), the late Gov. Sebastian Generoso of Davao (Dob-dod) imposed an agreement with the Kalagans, the details of which are now unclear. Apparently, those who accepted the governor’s terms got to remain in the vale and continued to be known as Kalagans. Those who disagreed fled to the mountains and settled there. They are now known as the Tagakaulos.

An alternate explanation for the division of the tribe is provided by the Bethany World Prayer Center (1997). It is said that the coming of Islam in the 1500s caused the tribe to splinter into the Tagakaolo Kalagan who converted to the new faith, and the Tagakaulu Kalagan, who remained animist.

According to Buckman (2005), there are around 35,000 Tagakaulos in the country. A large number of them could be found in Malita, Davao del Sur, especially in and around an area formerly known as Kalatagan, now shown in the map as the barangays of Demoloc and Datu Danwata. The Tagakaulos that reside in some sitios there are still pure blooded and unacculturated (Cabanda 2003). Some still practice marriage with close relatives, and even for those who opt for exogamy, a Tagakaulo partner would still be preferable (Manayas 2006).

The entry of Christian missionaries and the introduction of formal education tend to affect Tagakaulo cultural tradition. The tribe now faces the challenge of modernization. Whether they withstand the forces of change or remain in their traditional way of living is uncertain. For now, they live in a constant struggle to uphold their cultural traditions, while at the same time adjusting to the influences of modern living.

The Tagakaulo Oral Narratives

Oral narrative give tribal communities a sense of preserving the foundation of their treasured values. If collected narratives are analyzed, the tribe is enriched by the  reiteration of the traditional values from cultural integrity that could be drawn from these sources. These are the cultural roots that sustain a thriving community long after tribal customs would have been completely overtaken by change. A memory of the past as a remembrance for the coming generation lends to every member of the tribe a reminder of his tribal identity.

This study was conducted in order to collect, record, translate, categorize, and analyze the collected Tagakaulo oral narratives. In the analysis, I tried to extract the Tagakaulo treasured values from each narrative. I also examined some educational implications of the narratives in keeping with the tradition of using the narratives as a source of instruction.

The new generation Tagakaulos do not seem to be interested in their culture anymore, including their oral narratives. While researching for this paper, I asked some of the children to narrate folk stories they have heard from their elders. The children were vague on the details, evincing little interest about this aspect of their cultural heritage. These stories are in danger of becoming moribund if no records are made right now when the tribe still have living members who could remember them.

Site of the Study

Barangay Demoloc and Barangay Datu Danwata in Malita, Davao del Sur were chosen as the site of the study because majority of their Tagakaulo residents are not yet acculturated. I traveled to the site four times overa period of time, being able to visit the sitios of Makalong, Kangko, and Kilawom in Demoloc and Sitio Tabunan and Sitio Lagunan in Datu Danwata.

My husband accompanied me during the first three trips. These were on 17 October 2003, 10 November 2003, and 26 July 2004. My fourth trip happened after a hiatus if about two years. I returned on 15 February 2006 with four engineering students of Southern Philippines Agri-Businees Marine and Aquatic School of Technology (SPAMAST) who were conducting their research about the indigenous farm implements.

The trip from Digos, my place of residence, to Malita takes two hours by bus. From Malita poblacion to the Malita Tagakaulo Mission (MATAMIS) is a one-hour drive by motorcycle crossing three small streams, two bridges, and four rivers. To reach the other sitios from MATAMIS, one has to hike for at least three hours. The roads were usually slippery. The trails under trees and along the narrow paths that turned into little streams were difficult. I often stumbled or slid. The longest hike I had was going to Tabunan (“covered by fog”), a sitio in Datu Danwata, which at 3,200 ft., is the highest peak in that mountainous region. We started off with guides from MATAMIS at 1:00 p.m., and arrived at Tabunan at 7:00 p.m. When I looked up, I felt weak. The peak’s slope was almost ninety degrees before us! I tried and crawled to the top. I almost fainted, but at last, “I did it my way”.

On these trips, I stayed overnight in the field, sleeping in the houses of the Tagakaulos. The longest I stayed in the field was four days.

The key Informants

The key informants are pure Tagakaulos. Udaya Umpaw and Mapanaw Umpaw are siblings who live in Makalong. They are more than seventy years old. They do not know exactly how old they are. Balasian Tanawan also shared his knowledge of the narratives. He is about seventy years old. In Kangko, we met Carillo Santaneller who is forty-eight years old. We also met Mario Suwa, a resident of Sitio Kilawom, and a pastor of Protestant church in Demoloc.

In Sitio Tabunan, Brgy. Datu Danwata we met six storytellers. They are Manumpay Mariano, Uday Mariano, Bansalan Mariano, Balanigan Laginan, and Dumelda Laginan. None of them know their exact age. They belong to the clan of Baden and Laginan.

Manumpay told the most number of stories. He said he learned these stories from his grandmother Baden who narrated these stories at night before he went to bed. Baden had told him that he should not forget the stories so that when someone would ask him to tell the stories he would not miss even one. That is why he was so glad of our arrival. Before the storytelling, we were having a short conversation when I gave him our share for inch. Manumpay pushed away the canned goods. His face dimmed I wondered why. But he continued answering our questions. He started the storytelling at ten in the morning, taking no lunch nor dinner. We went back to our cottage at about at about ten in the evening. Before we left he sang for us an instant self-composed song.

We were heading to the cottage the next day when we met Manumpay at the water pump. He said he missed narrating some stories and wished them to be recorded. He said he would ho to our cottage at seven in the evening. Indeed, he continued the storytelling. We handed him some money in return but he refused to take it. He told us that he was not accepting anything from anybody because it is a sin. Tyumanem, he said, would give him anything that he wants if he will work for it. He said that when I give him the canned goods he was afraid to accept them because Tyumanem might punish him. The only thing he asked was to be greeted over Bombo Radyo Davao. Every morning he listens to the radio and to be greeted on air over his favorite station is a great pleasure for him.

Marina Laginan Manayas is the youngest of my informants at twenty-six years old. She is the tribal teacher in Tabunan. She and her husband Angelo treated us very well during our stay in their place

Aside from the storytellers, a lot of other people helped us gather other information. They were the missionaries, tribal teachers, Tagakaulo children, teenagers, and elders. They were the source for the background information of the situation of the tribe. To mention a few:

Father Bellanger Gilles, S.J. who is the mission station team incharge; Archie Ayot, the tribal teacher in Kangko; and Angelo Manayas, the husband of Marina. In Sitio Laginan, Mila Laginan Bartolome, sixteen years old, allowed us to take pictures of her native Tagakaulo costume. Her older sister, Lita Laginan Muda, entertained us by playing the kulili to the tune of “Anugon”.

The staff of the mission house who are all Tagakaulos were very warm and hospitable. They are Rosalinda “Ibing” Balandan who is the manager assigned in the mission house of Demoloc and Elsa Albaracin who is the pastoral in-charge and manager assigned in the mission house of Datu Danwata. Julie and Wilma “Inday” Garcia did so many good things for us.

Our guides to Makalong were the Garcia couple together with Leonardo “Boy” Garcia, the father of the tribal teacher Joylyn. Ricky Mariano and Johnlai Montic guided us in our six-hour trek to Tabunan.

Translators

Mr. Dodo Cabanda, a Tagakaulo and the head of the Tribal Filipino Apostolate, gave much of his time in translating some of the stories. He lives in Malita, Davao del Sur so it was difficult for me to follow up the finished translations. Due to the need of hastening the translation process I asked the help of Mrs. Merilet T. Avila, the mother of my student who is a Tagakaulo, to finish the translation of the remaining narratives.

Secondary Translators

Mrs. Francisca Arboleda, my colleague in SPAMAST, transcribed some of the Visayan translation and helped me understand some of the Tagakaulo terms by talking to me in Tagakaulo. She learned the language because she had lived with the Tagakaulos for quite a long time. Prof. Helen W. Noel, another colleague in SPAMAST, used Tagakaulo in casual conversations and translated it right away into Visayan so that I would become familiar with some terms. She was raised in a Tagakaulo community.

Documentation

The oral narratives were collected using field cassette tape recorder. The guide or translator facilitated in the actual gathering of data by asking the informant in Tagakaulo about their oral narratives. The narratives were told in their own language (Tagakaulo). After each storyteller was finished, we replayed the recorder. The story tellers were amazed upon hearing their voices for the first time. On one occasion, one of the storytellers followed us after the interview and whispered to my husband to take good care of their voices that has been transferred to the tape. They were afraid that something bad would happen if their voices would not be taken care of. They valued their voices so much just like their footprints. According to their belief, they could be bewitched through their footprints, so they thought it could also be true to their voice.

Transcription and Translation Process

I asked the translators to transcribe the recorded narratives in the original language. The translator these narratives into Visayan. I translated the Visayan narratives into English. Miss Ellaine Lagmay helped me in some of the translation. Prof. Cindy B. Rosil, the Head of the Education Department, was my English critic.

In the translation, I used the Meaning-based Translation Theory of Larson (1984). This theory is also known as the idiomatic translation or thought-for-thought translation wherein the meaning of the original is translated into forms which most accurately and naturally preserve the meaning of the original forms.

The translators were instructed to translate the recorded narratives through meaning rather than form. It concentrates on what is important, and to restructure the form when it is necessary to convey meaning. The Visayan translations are shorter than the Tagakaulo text because the original texts have lots of repetition that the translator found unnecessary to be translated. The Visayan text was the basis for the English translation. Only the original language and the English translation of the narratives are included in the text.

Research Plan

This research work started early but was finished much later than planned. This proves that this kind of work is not really an easy task. Before I made the proposal, I had already made some advanced researches. Then I learned that it needed total commitment and courage, and sacrifice too. These three ingredients helped me to succeed.

It was so difficult for me at the beginning since I am working as a full time college instructor in SPAMAST and at the same beginning to establish a family. A year after my wedding I started the research. Fortunately, my husband was very supportive and even went with me to the field.

When my husband and I started the field research, our first baby was five months old. I did not know that I was a month pregnant with our second child as I hiked the hills and dells for hours. At that time I thought that not experiencing a monthly period was normal for a mother who breast-fed her baby. That was what I heard from my friends. Maybe if I had known then that I was pregnant I might not have began my research. When I learned later that I was pregnant the research had to stop.

After I delivered my second baby, I committed myself to finish the research. Our second baby was then one month and twenty-three days old. My husband and I left our two angels with my parents. We hiked for six long hours. For me, that was real courage. But I was not able to finish yet.

Early in October 2005 my husband underwent a surgery. I was advised to finish the Master’s degree in the school year of 2005-2006 by the school administration and my adviser encouraged me to finish my thesis study. My husband suggested that he and our two kids go for a vacation in Leyte so that I could concentrate on my research and finish it on time. He promised to come back during my graduation. I realized the sense of it so I agreed. They departed in 1 November 2005. I found it terribly difficult to go home when home did not have my husband and children. Yes, nobody would bother me while I was working, but I was severely disturbed by the loneliness and silence. It was a sacrifice I was not sure was worth doing. But sacrifice I did anyway. I defended the final paper on 15 March 2006.

Classification of the Collected Tagakaulo Oral Narratives

Using the system of classification provided by Demetrio (1979), the thirty oral narratives collected for this paper include nineteen legends, seven myths, three hero tales, and one fairy tale.

The legends are the following: 1) “Palasan and Lagang;” 2) “The Old Man and the Crow:” 3) “The Rice Reaper;” 4) “The Chicken and the Millipede;” 5) “Langkapan;” 6) “Dansulan;” 7) “Sakung;” 8) “Lominggo and Laoni;” 9) “Suwagan;” 10) “Kanlubong;” 11) “Kuwan;” 12) ” Kustan;” 13) “Tagkay and Alalagkay;” 14) “Menda and Beye;” 15) “Sima and Lolong;” 16) “How Barangay Dimulok Got Its Name;” 17) “How Sitio Kamugna Got Its Name;” 18) “How Sitio Tabunan Got Its Name;” and 19) “How Sitio Kangko Got Its Name.”

Classified under myths are: 1) “Kulias and Ubal;” 2) “The Rat and the Frog;” 3) “The Monitor Lizard and the Iguana;” 4) “The Life of Uwan and Mansiagan;” 5) “The Origin of Fog and Rain;” 6) “Why the Sky is High;” and 7) “The Creation of Man.”

There are three hero tales included in this collection. These are: 1) “Dulongbatang and Sinulatan;” 2) Kabangbata and His Younger Brother;” and 3) “The Old Couple.”

The lone fairy tale is “Kitkit Magasungkit and Kutkut Magasalmot.”

The Legends

Following the classification of legends provided by Eugenio (1982), the first four legends listed previously may be classified as etiological legends, or those that explain the cause of a particular phenomenon. The rest are non-etiological legends that may further be sub-classified as: 1) legends recounting encounters with supernatural beings; 2) place name legends; and 3) miscellaneous legends.

There are six legends that recount encounters with supernatural beings or strange men who were in possession of knowledge previously unknown to the dreamer. In “Lominggo and Laoni,” Lominggo gets to meet a strange hunter who taught him to hunt wild animals. The stranger killed a wild pig that, at the moment of death, turned into a man, much to Lominggo’s surprise. Similarly, in “Kustan,” a frog turned into a man when it was about to be hit by Kustan’s spear. “Tagkay and Alalagkay” tells about contact between Tagkay who lived on earth and Alalagkay who came from heaven. “Sakung,” “Suwagan,” and “Kanlubong” all feature the appearance in a dream of a strange man bearing advice for the protagonist. Suwagan became a rich and Kanlubong was able to heal others because they both followed what the man in their dream said. However, not all of the dreamers gained positive consequence as a result of heeding the counsel. Sakung died because he submerged his head in boiling water which, according to his dream, would cure his back problem.

Four stories tell how each place got its name. The original Tagakaulo settlers gave the names to all of these places. Barangay Demoloc got name from the kamugna plant; Sitio Tabunan got its name from the highest peak in Datu Danwata; and Sitio Kangko got its name from Kalangkangan, which was shortened to Kangko. Kalangkangan is a species of a tree that proliferates in the place.

Miscellaneous legends include “Langkapan,” which tells the legend a the lonely man; Dansulan,” which tells about the discovery of the technique for making clay pots; “Beye and Menda.” which tells the legend of the Malabiga; “Sima and Lolong” which talks about the first marriage; and “Kuwan,” which tells of a generous brother-in-law. All these stories dwell on normal everyday experiences.

Myths

Stith Tompson (1978) proposed a Motif-Index of folk literature which gives the following categories: 1) The gods, their activities and relationships; 2) Cosmogony and cosmology; 3) The topographical features of the earth; 4) World calamities; 5) Establishment of natural order; 6) Creation/ origin of human life; 7) Creation/ origin of animal life; and 8) Creation/ origin of plant life.

Among the seven myths collected, three are about the origin of animal life or animal characteristics. “Kulias and Ubial” explains that the race of monkeys was descended from the pregnant survivor Kulias’s revenge. “The Rat and the Frog” tells about the comic transfer of the rat’s tail to the envious frog. “The Monitor Lizard and the Iguana” explains why they have different designs on their backs.

On myth tells about a calamitous flood, while two are about cosmogony and cosmology; one explains why the sky is high while the other tells about the origin of the rain and the fog. Last on the list is a tale about the creation or origin of human life.

Hero Tales

“Kabangbata and His Younger Brother” tells about the strange friendship between the boy and a magical crab, while “Dulongbatang and Sindatan” tells of Dulongbatang’s encounters with various malevolent characters. “The Old Couple” tells the story of two seemingly hapless children who exacted justice for the trickery played on them by the old couple.

Fairy Tale

“Kitkit Magasungkit and Kutkut Magasalmot” is about a couple who protects wild animals and warns people not to harm them. They have the power to turn the animal’s blood into different colors in order to scare people enough to heed their warnings. They also demonstrate the ability to command the wild animals to do their bidding. While it is not directly said that they are fairies, their demonstrated powers are consistent with woodland fairies that protect forest animals.

Values Found in the Tagakaulo Oral Narratives

The Tagakaulo oral narratives are rich in values that mirror those held by their ancestors. The following analysis attempts to highlight the positive values that the tribe instills through the telling of these narratives. At the same time, these narratives also present a recognition of the tribe’s weak points and their telling could be interpreted as an admonition to address these weakness for the establishment of a better, more harmonious society.

Social Values

A social value is concerned with the whole society in general. It signifies social responsibilities like mutual love and respect, fidelity, concern for others or for the common good, freedom, equality, social justice, human rights, active nonviolence, and popular participation in civic action. Social value implies the strengthening of communal bonds, most particularly in the family, the foundation of the community. These values are gleaned from the display of respect for parents and generational authority. Harmonious social relations serve not only the interest of the community, but work for the individual’s well being as well.

Other people help us shape our identity and the meaning of our life. As existentialists say, a man is a being-in-the-world-with-others. This stresses the social dimension to being human. The Tagakaulos for not advise the life a hermit. Living among others is a prescription underlined in the stories of Langkapan, Kustan, and Sakung.

“Langkapan” show how a solitary life may lead to one’s confusing fantasy with reality. In the story, Langkapan lived alone in a place called Alalangan. One day, he caught a deer in his trap. He brought the deer home, clothed  it, and offered it a mamaen (betel chew) because he fantasized the deer to be a woman. In the Tagakaulo tradition, an offer to betel chew is a social  convention that precedes a formal conversion. Much to Langkapan’s dismay, the deer did not respond in the way he had expected. This was when he knew that what was facing him was indeed a deer and not a woman. Langkapan died after eating the deer.

Langkapan’s story emphasizes that people need people. Langkapan lost his wits because he could not identify himself, being the only one of his kind in that place. Having no one to identify himself with and apart from, he was not able to appreciate his existence. His actions showed that Langkapan wanted the presence of somebody he could relate with. Clothing the deer and offering it mamaen show his expectations of the kind of company he wanted and the kind of interaction he desired. The story suggests that people who live alone would seek for human companionship. Not finding it leads to one’s tragic death.

“Kustan” and “Sakung” also tell about the dire consequences of living alone. While out hunting, Kustan was attacked by a frog that turned into a monster.  Sakung, on the other hand, heeded the man in his dream who instructed him to immerse his head in boiling water in order to cure his aching back. Nobody came to their aid when they were in distress, simply because there was nobody else. What Sakung’s story further suggests is that a man alone may resort to impaired judgment when no one can tell him the soundness of his plan of action.

In oral narratives, the family oftentimes becomes the setting and the arena of the unfolding events. A closer examination shows these narratives to prescribe conventions on mate selection, duties for family members, as well as admonitions on sibling and family relations.

“The Chicken and the Millipede,” for example, is a fable about family strife brought about by irreconcilable differences among siblings. The clamorous younger Chicken taunts the elder Millipede for being slow. The Millipede takes the taunting as a sign of disrespect. He goes away, never to return even after the Mother Chicken died. The story implies that disharmony in the home could be serious enough to tear the family apart. It is therefore important for younger siblings to accord their elders with respect. As the foundation of the community, traditional arrangements like generational authority ought to be fostered to keep the family intact. Cherishing the value of mutual love, respect, and concern for the feelings of others helps preserve the unity and sanctity of family life. To achieve this goal, it is fairly important to be able to negotiate individual differences and resolve a common identity as a family.

“Sima and Lolong” tells of the legend of the first marriage among the Tagakaulos. Sima and Lolong realize their respective need for a partner. Since they live at opposite sides of the world, they travel far and wide in search of a partner. Sima and Lolong soon meet, and realizing that they are the only people on earth, they decide to live together, build a house, and have children. Their story prescribes mate selection procedures acceptable among the Tagakaulos. Readiness for marriage and family life is emphasized as a precondition to an individual’s initiation of the mate selection process. Only then should come the decision to search out the special someone and, upon finding him or her, build a house and live together as husband and wife.

In-law relations become the centerpiece for the story of Kuwan. Kuwan is a man who has nothing- no food, no house, no garden, no clothes. He goes to his brother-in-law and there he is provided with everything he needs. The story shows how in-law relations extend the support one could legitimately expect from others. When one marries into a family, he too becomes concerned not only with the material needs of his spouse, but with that of his in-laws,too.

In the story of “Beye and Menda,” a famine strikes in the mountains and so highlander Menda brings her children to go begging for food from lowlander Beye. Beye feeds Menda and thereby affirms the latter’s belief that the former is her friend. When it is time to go, Beye gives them the malabiga for the children to take home and eat. However, the children itch all over and die after eating Beye’s token of generosity. Filled with despair and anger at the betrayal, Menda seeks out Beye and they fight until they both die.

The story shows how Menda is taken in by a false friend. Beye’s uncharitable action is unforgivable because it causes fatal harm to Menda’s most treasured children. Menda models ideal maternal disposition in her desire to feed her children even if it means begging. She proves it further by fighting to the death to avenge her dead children.

A narrative that prescribes the duties of the father is “Uwan and Mansiagan.” The couple lives in a cave. Mansiagan keeps telling Uwan to build a house, but he does not listen to her even after the children start coming and the cave becomes too small for all of them. One day, while both parents are out foraging, a great storm comes. Upon returning to the cave, they find that mud has covered it and their children inside.

According to Mariano, that Tagakaulos fear bad weather, and this story seems to underscore that fear to be justified. People should be prepared for calamitous events because they are outside the control of human powers. In the story, Uwan is remiss in performing his role as a  father to provide adequate housing that would protect his family from the exigencies of nature. By his  neglect and unconcern for potential danger posed on his abode and his children, Uwan loses them.

Uwan’s story is not the only narrative that shows people in authority to be less than worthy of it. In “Old Couple,” generational authority is abused to take advantage of young children. The tale goes that the children respectfully ask and are allowed by the old couple to climb a tree and eat its fruits. a foraging deer soon comes to eat the fruit peel that the children drop. Seeing this, the children keep feeding the deer whole fruits until it chokes and dies. Then they come down to decide how to bring the deer home for food. Seeing the children’s good fortune, the old couple conspires to make the children give up the deer. The children are so disappointed with this treatment that they take revenge on the old couple. They kill the man, but the woman is able to escape. The children reclaim their food.

The story seems to say that justice in interpersonal relations should be the concern of both the young and the old. The conduct of just relations is a personal responsibility in the absence of social mechanisms to see that justice is done. This is similarly shown in the next tale where the protagonist uses the desires of his enemies to exact his revenge.

Strangers could become our fast friends or our worst enemies, depending in part on how we treat them. In “Kulias and Ubal,” Kulias goes to visit his friend Ubal. As he is passing through the forest, he meets a band of big monkeys who make fun of him and carry him up a lawaan tree so they can throw him down. They change their mind, however, when they see Kulias’s teeth. They want to know how Kulias turned his teeth black. Kulias explains that the color came from eating makopa. Hearing this, the monkeys tell Kulias that they would spare him his life if he would lead them to the makopa. Kulias agrees. When they get to the makopa, the monkeys rush to climb it. Quick as a flash, Kulias gathers dried leaves around the base of the makopa and sets the tree on fire. His attackers are killed in the conflagration. However, it is said that a pregnant monkey is able to escape when she gets thrown to the river as the burning tree falls. From her came the race of monkeys who generally stay away from humans.

Even place name legends could be used to demonstrate social value. “How Sitio Tabunan Got Its Name” narrates that fog covers the Tabunan mountain in the afternoon until dawn. Tabunan dwarfs all the mountains and plains below. Fog rises from these places and gathers to shroud the peak. Mount Tabunan is, in a certain sense, similar to a leader who stands watchful and protective over his followers, while at the same time gathering from them a conglomeration of ideas that have to be collectively considered for the interest of the common good.

Another legend that can be analyzed for social value is “The Creation of Man.” It is said that the human race sprang from the body of the first creature on earth, with the men taken from the base of the skull and the women taken from the throat. The men came out black and the women came out white. This story suggests an adherence to a system of social differentiation where people are set apart by identifying characteristics present at birth. Implied in the story is the belief that the roots of physical differences lie deeper than individual inheritance. Fatal determinism sets the sexes apart, creating categories that divide men and women and dictate the expression of their different moral predisposition and physical capabilities.

Economic Value

Economic value refers to economic efficiency manifest in thriftiness or conservation, work ethic, self-reliance, productivity, scientific and technological knowledge, and entrepreneurship. This is achieved through work, the exercise of human mastery over the resources of nature, and creative imagination in the solution of complex problems. Below are three selected examples of the Tagakaulo oral narratives which emphasize economic value.

“Palasan and Lagang” is focused on the economic stability of the family. Palasan and Lagang have one son. They own a cornfield which Palasan prepares for sowing. When the corn is ready for harvest, Laging performs a ritual in the fields in order to ensure a bountiful and never-ending harvest. Then she immediately sets aside enough for the family’s consumption. When she comes home, Palasan meets her with much gladness, as her harvest shows that what he had sowed has proved to be plentiful. Lagang urges Palasan to plant some more. The story highlights the Tagakaulo division of labor and stresses the relevance of industry and the splendid reward that awaits those who work hard. Lagang demonstrates foresight in planning for her family’s future needs, and her grateful supplication for the continuing kindness of the spirits.

The necessity for active intervention to protect one’s food supply is the theme of “The Old Man and the Crow” and “The Rice Reaper.” In the first story, the old man makes a trap for the crow that is feeding on his field. Caught, the crow pleads for his life. The old man lets the creature go after exacting its promise never to come back. In the second story, a farmer finds a rat in his rice container. He brings home a cat to chase away the rat. In both instances, the protagonists use timely remedies to avert a threat to their economic security.

Intellectual Value

This value is related to truth, the tireless quest for knowledge in all its forms, and the development of creative and critical thinking in meeting the vicissitudes of life. Indeed, intellectual value can be discerned from the oral narratives of the Tagakaulos. Below are three selected examples of oral narratives that highlight intellectual value.

“How Barangay Dimulok Got Its Name” tells about a wanderer who tracks the streams and the tributaries until he comes to find that they all lead to a big river that, in turn, leads out to the sea. Dimulok means the biggest river. The mouth of the river is now called Demoloc. In this legend, we see the overwhelming curiosity and the tireless quest of the wanderer to understand the nature of water forms.

Idle intellectual pursuits may motivate the actions of some. However, there are enough concerns in everyday Tagakaulo life that challenge people to apply brain power. For example, “Dansulan” shows attempts by a couple at making a pot for cooking. The first time, they mold clay from the ground until it looks like a pot. They then try to use it for cooking, but the water leaks and puts out the fire. Again, they make a pot from clay, but before using it for cooking, they leave it on a burning flame until it turns red from heat. When it cools, they find that it does not leak when filled with water and can now be used for cooking.

Necessity, they say, is the mother of invention. The experiments of the Dansulan couple show the employment of trial-and -error method for solving a mundane problem. It shows an active capacity to learn and to create adjustments to improve one’s solutions for practical purposes.

Solving problems requires that people think of the consequences before enacting changes in the current state of affairs. Despite good intentions at correcting problems, the failure to analyze consequences could have dire results. Such is the experience of heaven-residing  Alalagkay when he comes down to the aid of earthbound Talagkay. Alalagkay comes down because he notices and is concerned that Tagkay is just wnadering about seemingly without any sense of direction. When Alalagkay asked Talagkay why this is so, the latter tells him that he is wandering because he is a foolish man. Upon hearing this, Alalagkay takes up an alingatong stalk and whips Tagkay with it, with the intention of bringing him back to his sense. Tagkay screams in pain and chokes Alalagkay to death.

The alingatong causes pricking itchiness when it touches the skin. While Alalagkay intends for the whipping to heal Tagkay, it instead causes Tagkay to react in murderous rage. Alalagkay’s death is a direct result of his own impulsive action at causing Tagkay pain without first explaining his intention and getting Tagkay’s consent. His fate shows how important it is to think first and to consider the mental state as well as the receptivity of the person we wish to help before initiating any action.

Moral Value

Moral value is related to love. This is the quest for personal integrity, the development of self-worth or self-esteem, honesty, and personal discipline which are the mark of a mature and useful person. This value involves respect for authority, marriage and sex behavior patterns, religious rituals, and other basic codes of human behavior.

Hero tales are replete with moral values as they highlight what higher purposes ought to direct extraordinary feats when these could be done. Heroes accept the responsibility to protect the community, especially the defenseless, the poor, and the afflicted. They are ready to do battle in order to champion the people. In “Dulogbatang and Sinulatan,” we see the hero battling Sinulatan, the monster with flaming horns, and the strong men who command malevolent birds. In all instances, Dulogbatang overpowers the enemy. This protagonist shows the hallmarks of heroism- magnificent physical prowess, the sense of self-sacrifice, bravery, responsibility, and dedication to protect his community.

The virtue of independence is shown in “Kabangbata and His Younger Brother” which is a story about orphans. One day, they go hunting for food, but when they are able to catch a bird, Kabangbata uses his being the elder to deny food to his brother. This again happens the next time they catch game. Hungry and disappointed at being maltreated, the younger brother decides to leave Kabangbata. He encounters a magical crab that teaches him how to hunt with a bamboo pole that magically transforms into a sharp lance. Using this weapon the boy is able to catch a deer.

While he is preparing the deer meat, an old man comes by and offers help. He cooks a portion of the bile and feeds it to the boy. The boy complains of the bitter taste. The old man tells him that this is because the meat is bad and that the boy will be poisoned if he eats any more of it. Believing the old man, the boy gives up the deer and leaves. The old man, whose intention it is to divest the boy of his catch, happily carts home the meat. Unbeknownst to him the boy follows and sees him prepare the meat for food. The boy realizes that he had been tricked. The boy kills the old man and takes back the meat.

Out of his experiences with unkindness, the young boy learns to live independently and to fend for himself. He learns to fight back and to survive. The moral of the story is for people not to allow others to take advantage of our kindness and our need for human company.

On the personal aspect, the Tagakaulos also reflect on such human preoccupations as developing self-acceptance and self-worth. Discontent comes from low self-esteem and often results in envy, as in the case of the frog that admires the rat’s tail and wants to have it for himself. Upon knowing this, the rat takes the tail off and places it on the frog’s rear. This certainly does not make the frog feel comfortable and in his great need to be rid of it, he runs and leaps about until it comes off. He gives it back to the rat and they decide to go their separate ways, the frog much relieved. With that experience of having a tail, the frog learns to appreciate his tail-less rear from thereon.

Physical Value

This value is related to health. Health implies physical well-being and cleanliness. The physical nature of human beings calls for a certain harmony with the material universe. What we need to remain healthy could be found in nature. In the story of “Kanlubong,” for instance, a  man in his dream instructs him in the herbs that could be used for curing particular diseases. Upon waking, Kanlubong gathers these herbs and tries them out first on someone who has a headache. It works. Kanlubong then shares with his neighbors the knowledge given by the man in his dream. As a result, the people find curative effects from herbs that grow in their environs. Sickness and death are significantly reduced.

Spiritual Value

“Kitkit Magasungkit and Kutkut Magasalmot” is a tale that demonstrates the power of prayer, an expression of surrender to faith in a higher divinity. The spiritual value indicates the dimensions of the infinite, seen to transcend the limited powers of human ability. The cultivation of faith is spirituality that calls for growing in love, repentance, and reconciliation.

In the story, eight hunters go to the mountains to set traps. They catch a wild pig and deer. When they slaughter the animals, they are all taken aback to see green blood flowing from the pig and black blood coming from the deer. A strange couple claiming to be the owner of the animals suddenly appears and forbids them from eating the meat on pain of death. The frightened hunters flee.

In the next months, the fairy couple sends wild animals to the hunters’ fields in order to destroy their plants. Remembering the admonition of the couple, the hunters leave the animals alone. With their farms devastated, the hunters soon have no food to eat. So one day, they pray hard to their god for protection against the curse of the couple. Then they go out to kill a wild pig and eat it. When nobody dies, they take this to mean that their prayer has been granted.

At first, there is no mention of their god in the story. It is only in times of difficulty that the spiritual aspect is remembered. Their faith in their god saves them from starvation. When they surrender in prayer, they find the courage to do what is necessary. Faith in their god liberates them form the false belief introduced by the strange couple.

Educational Implication of the Oral Narratives

The oral narratives compiled in this study bear substantial information regarding the Tagakaulo’s traditional life ways. Introducing these stories in today’s classrooms may serve several purposes. First, these are rich resources to highlight events in pre-colonial history and features of Mindanao geography, and to focus on the indigenous cultures that have been affected by the forces of changing conditions. New dimensions in folk literature could be shared among the young to foster cultural dialogue and develop cultural relativity in the generation that is increasingly seeing a multicultural world. Translating meanings across the boundaries of culture and languages poses a challenge to the students, especially those most enthralled by the word in its various forms. In particular these narratives introduce the sociologists and the psychologists to the ways of the Tagakaulo society and the psyche of its people.

For the Tagakaulos, these oral narratives serve to affirm the positive values that allow them a deep appreciation of their roots. For practical purposes too, these are a useful medium for developing the listening, reading, writing, and comprehension skills of the tribal children enrolled in the literacy program of the Malita Tagakaulo Mission. In this manner, perhaps, cultural solidarity could be fostered among the Tagakaulo youth in their identification with the tribe’s narratives.

Tagakaulo Oral Narratives

[Refer to the Original Copy]

Women’s Narratives of a Micro-Disaster: The Flash Flood in Colongulo Surallah, South Cotabato.

On the night of 6 September 1995 at around 7:30, people in Allah Valley heard a loud bang in the direction of the peak of Parker Volcano. Little did that know it was the beginning of a nightmare for those living in the barangays along Allah River.

The Global Volcanism Network Bulletin v. 20, no.9, September 1995 reports:

The overflow of Maughan Lake, the crater lake at Parker Volcano, followed heavy rains associated with a passing typhoon and caused flash flodding in NW-flank Allah River, which drains the crater Lake from 1,000 m. down to 540 m. elevation (Barangay New Dumangas, T’boli, South Cotabato Province). Below this point it was transformed into a sheetwash. The floods killed more than 60 people, destroyed 300 homes and nine bridges, and displaced 50,000 people…

The numberof casualties and extent of damage to properties were unimpressive, even neglible, compared to the past calamities like the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in Luzon and Typhoon Uring in Ormoc. This must be very reason why a few days after being the center of media coverage, we never heard of the tradegy again. It can also be noted that only one barangay, New Dumangas, was mentioned in the news.

Most often, the misfortunes of unknown people in unknown places are never recorded.. Considered minor events, they are soon forgotten, except by those most directly affected by the micro-disaster.

The flash flood took place five years ago, but I am still haunted by the faces of the women whom I met the day after the flood. Deeply etched on their faces were the burden and pain of what they had gone through. The experiences stored in their memory, as well as, in their body are precisely what have remained with them when everything else is gone: home, land, properties. But the “official story: of disasters generally overlooks women’s experiences as victims as well as responders (Enarson and Morrow 1997).

This paper therefore aims to make space and give voice to these women so their experiences are heard and known. This will as well give them the much-needed opportunity to find meanings in their experiences as part of their life and eventually to be able to form out of theses experiences a cohesive whole. As Portelli (1998) writes “What is really important is that memory is not a passive depository of facts, but an action process of creation of meanings.”

Women are caregivers and attend to most of the household chores. In the rural areas, they work in the fields along with men. Thus women experiences are valuable to understand better households and communities hit by disaster (Enarson and Morrow 1997, 116).

This paper is also an appeal to concerned government officials, as well as, concerned men and women to see the plight of micro-disaster people, to be part of their stories and empower them to rise above their present predicament.

Barangay Colongulo, The Site

Colongulo was once home for the T’bolis ruled by Datu Dianon. The abundance of cogon grass, which the T’bolis call “colon” and lemon grass, which they call “gob”, gave the place its name Colongulo, also spelled Colongolo. It is one of the barangays of Surallah, a first class municipality in South Cotabato, the breadbasket of the south. (See map on the PDF Form, Page 2)

In 1949, the first batch of Christian settlers arrived in Colongulo when it was still a sitio of Barangay Centrala. They won the goodwill of ‘Datu Dianon and the other datus of the surrounding sitios of Ela, Mahe, Lamtangan and Colombarinong and were allowed to make Colongulo their home.

The second batch of settlers mostly from Antique came in 1953. This explains why Colongulo is predominantly Antiqueno. What became of the datus is not known, but the present Colongulo does not have any of its original T’boli inhabitants.

Traversing the length of . Barangay Colongulo, Allah River is the source of water for the irrigation system, bringing prosperity to the fast growing agricultural barangay. Until September 1995.

Being There

Initially my purpose in conducting interviews in Colongulo was solely to comply with the requirements for my course in Anthropology of Map showing Colongulo and the other barangays of Surallah.
Development. I stayed there on 27 and 28 January 2001, armed with a tape recorder and photos, which I had taken of the place the day after the flash flood in September 1995. I found myself more of a pilgrim than a researcher. I had come again to the place I knew as a teenager. One thing I have in common with people: we have the remembrance of the Colongulo of old.

I interviewed seven women although I had planned originally to interview only five. The narration of the experiences gave structure not only to the experiences but also to the research encounter (Becker 1997). Thus, the two other women who happened to be there during the interview shared their story spontaneously when they heard the narration of the others. I chose the women randomly as to their availability and willingness to be interviewed. Their ages ranged from 34 to 64 years old. Two men in their 60s, husbands of two of the women, and two men in their 30s were also present during the interviews. They corroborated the stories of the women.

The women’s narratives are quoted verbatim from the Ilonggo transcription of the interviews. Sentiments are social realities that provide valuable data for what people want for themselves, as “feelings are facts”. Thus, the feelings of the women as they call to memory and analyze what happened to them serve as the building blocks of their narratives.

Memories

One of the women I interviewed was a schoolmate who recalled with nostalgia:
The shape of the river was so beautiful. Its crystal water and the big boulders lining the banks made it an ideal place for swimming and picnics. There were a lot of fruit trees, rich rice fields…

The photos, which I showed to the interviewees, elicited mixed emotions. There was the excitement of recalling where the houses once stood, the bumper crops they enjoyed, the neighbors they treated as brothers/sisters and their luck to own lands near the river. Adelina, choking with emotions pointed out in the photos her lost house saying:

We had a house here. It was about half kilometer away from the dam. With one and a half hectares of irrigated land, we had more than enough. We still had savings.

Automatically the photos led them to the narration of what actually took place on the night of the flash flood. Aurora had this to say of her experience:

We had a fishpond, which had been pawned to us by Mr. Bernal. We were about to harvest in a few days time when the flood washed it all away. Four of us, all fishpond owners, suffered the same fate. Along with our fishpond was our rice field.

Aurora must have wanted to hide her pain as she punctuated her sentences with uneasy laughter. She kept on stroking the hair of her daughter on her lap, who was just four months old during the flash flood. Her narration above reveals the relative prosperity she and her family enjoyed, thus it explains how the experience must have deeply affected them. She continued her story:

It was drizzling like any other day. My husband, a barangay councilor, was having a drink with his friends after a day’s work of repairing our house. The wife of one of the men came to fetch him as the water level of the river was rising up fast. He and my husband wasted no time. They immediately went out to wake the people up. They warned them not to sleep but to keep watch of the riverbank.

The moon was bright and people started running frantically to the higher grounds. That was around 7:45 pm. Fear seized us. We did not want to leave our house but we felt the danger of the water that was already sweeping away our neighbor’s house. The river was a raging torrent. Our driver took the children and me to my mother’s house which was on the safer side of the barangay. We evacuated there, and my sister’s family, who came from the other side of the irrigation lining, joined us. The water in the irrigation canal overflowed and washed out some of the houses. We spent a sleepless night…

The following day, we went back to see our house that was still standing but the house we had near the fishpond was completely gone. Good, we did not sleep there as we used to do.

Our dog drowned, as my husband was busy waking up people. He was not able to see his farm before the flood. Big fishes swam out from our fishpond. We really lost everything.

Aurora’s family suffered maximum damage in terms of loss of source of livelihood as the flood occurred when both the fishpond and the rice field were about to be harvested.

When I interviewed Flora, her husband Jose and her two sons were looking at the photos. Flora kept sighing, feeling their great loss. She kept on enumerating the names of the people who owned the houses and lands that had become just heaps of sand in the photos. While the experience was in a sense personal, the story telling and story sharing made it communal (Alejo 2000, 149).

Flora narrated:
It was a Wednesday night. The rain was pouring. We were watching TV and we were not aware of what was happening. At first it was just a drizzle, so we continued watching TV until 10:00 pm.

Barangay Councilor Soliva was on a tricycle informing everyone that the water already covered the bridge.

Her husband Jose interjected:
Our house cannot be seen here in the photos but it was exactly towards this side. There were many houses, mostly of the Pentecostals. Among them was the house of the son in-law of Tay Mamer. This one was the farm and house of Dr. Habaluyas. She was staying there. (Jose pointing at Remedios who happened to be there in their house during the interview.)

Of course, we were very scared as (the radio station) DHKR was warning us to take precautions. The following day Noli de Castro came here on his way to Lake Maughan. My sons were tending our carabaos when they overheard his plan of crossing to Lake Maughan.

Jose’s face beamed with pride when he mentioned Noli de Castro’s visit. It seemed that a visit of a known person somehow assuaged his desire to escape momentarily from reality.

I never expected to meet Remedios there. She shared her own experiences:
I was the caretaker of Dr. Habaluyas’s property. I stayed in her farmhouse that was in an “island-island”. I was too afraid because my aged mother was with me. She could not walk, so my son, who was a bachelor, carried her across to the other side of the river. I could not cry because of my intense fear.

Then Remedios stopped for a while as if trying to recapture the intensity of that experience or she might have been trying to avoid feeling the pain of the experience as she changed the flow of her narration:
It is good if you can interview Manang Ena because her house was completely destroyed by the water It will really be a good interview because as- she got down from her house, it was swept away by a strong current.

As Remedios grappled with her emotions, Flora volunteered to tell her own story:
Kumare, we were still lucky because the irrigation canal was not overflowing yet at that time. But were it not for Unyok we could have not survived. His son is married to my daughter. They slept in our house that night…after helping us, he left his family with us and went to help his own parents. According to him, there was already water in the house when he arrived. They were able to save some of their things. Unyok was our hero.

We carried nothing When we came back to find what we could retrieve, our sack of rice was already fermented. We ran off only to save our three carabaos and ourselves. We left behind our pigs. Our neighbors promised to look after our house. All our clothes were put on top of a cabinet, and actually after a week, we got them while we were in the evacuation camp in the town proper.

As if to lighten the emotionally charged moment, Jose told an anecdote:
When my brother went out to see the extent of the flood, he said that he saw a bamboo house that got caught among the branches of a fallen tree. It was funny, as inside the house was a whole family! I did not know from where they were carried away by the flood but one thing was sure, they just woke up from sleep.

Remedios was already calm when she continued recounting her experiences. Like the other interviewees, she relativized her experience by comparing it with the more difficult situations of other people:
Kumare Conching was really pitiful. She was weeping while she was briskly making openings through the mud dikes of the rice paddies for the water to pass through. In between her sobs she kept on saying that her rice field was to be harvested the following day. We had to literally pull her away so she would leave her field immediately as the water was rising.

We did not pack our things anymore for there was water all over the place. The water level was already more than the height of the carabao. When I mounted it to cross the river, it had to swim.

One of Ate Sally’s carabaos survived the flood. We found it a day after the flood, still tied to a tree with its snout buried in the mud. It was truly a blessing to have survived because if it had been freed, it would have died.

Having said that Remedios must have regained her momentum:
There were trucks sent by the mayor for those who wanted to evacuate to town. Since I was with my grandchildren, we decided to wait for the dawn in the waiting shed.

There were many people along the roadside. They stocked all that they had saved of their houses: galvanized iron, pieces of wood… Some purposely destroyed their houses before the flood would wash them away. The roof of our house was made of cogon grass so we did not take anything. We just left.

In the afternoon of the same day, we went to the evacuation center in the town proper. DSWD and some volunteers distributed food and canned goods. Since our farm was located across Allah River, we lost a number of the few personal belongings which we had saved because we kept transferring from one place to another.

When I was leaving the house Jose showed me their cooking stove made of clay that was just outside their house:
We had this in our former house, this very same cooking stove.

Flora accompanied me to the house of Ena who was just too willing to tell her own experience about the flash flood:
Our house was near the river at the side of the road. When it started to drizzle we did not have the slightest idea that the water would rise. I only commented to my husband that there was a foul smell coming from the river.

We were here (pointing at the picture), a little further, about half a kilometer from the dam. We just got down from our house when it was swept away and I heard our neighbor shouting that the water had already reached the road. By then the water was up to our waistline… we got out from there as fast as we could…

Ena gave more details about what happened before they fled from their house:
I was with my grandchildren at that time. Imagine, there were six of theml I woke them up and I told them to cover their heads with blankets. The youngest of them who was about a little more than one year old shared the umbrella with me. We ran to a higher ground towards the direction of Pingoy’s house. The wind and rain were so strong that we could not go straight. We had to duck from time to time while running. It was already five in the morning when we reached his house. There were just the two of us, my husband and I, with six children… Their parents were also working in the mountain so we looked after their schooling.

It was good our neighbor warned us. We left our house at around 11:45 pm. It was not yet 12 midnight when our house was carried away by the flood. You can’t imagine how strong the current was.

My daughter in Manila never thought we would still be alive. The following day, I went to town and called her up. She told me she kept on crying when she heard the news from the radio. She did not expect we would be saved, knowing that the small children were with us. The eldest was only nine years old. We left everything.

Looking in the direction of the river, she held back her tears as she said:
The difficulty that we had to go through…it was really very, very difficult. It was providential that two of our neighbors helped us carry our grandchildren across the river.

This forms part of her previous narrative, which she added to complete the story of how they fled their house.

Viola, a spinster in her thirties, did not heed the flood warning. Confident that their house was on a safer ground and that the flood was just one of the usual floods that affected the barangay, she opted to stay home when everybody else ran away:
I stayed home because of our sow that was giving birth. I thought it would be just like any other flood in the past… I did not know it was that serious.

A six-year-old boy, Narciso, died. His thirty-year-old mother up to now has not recovered from a nervous breakdown.. That night, like any other night, his father was in a house across the river with his friends drinking and watching TV. When the flood came, Narciso’s mother mounted their carabao single-handedly with the two of them, the other still an infant, and crossed the river. Narciso, who was seated behind his mother, lost his grip as his mother held on to the mount and the other child… She became crazy forrshe could not forget the boy’s voice calling out to her for help. And she could not do anything.

This was the first time I heard that somebody died in Colongulo. The other women whom I interviewed confirmed this to be true. In the municipal record, three very short paragraphs mention the flood but not of any mortality. The record merely says, “though no human life was lost, properties were greatly damaged.”

Noemi, Viola’s sister, had her own remembrance of the flood. We ran and we saw the water overflowing from the irrigation canal. I went back home to get my manicure set for I was thinking more about our future. It was only on the following day that I was able to cry for I was too nervous then to remember to cry.

Rosalie, a hardworking farmer in her forties, told this story:

Eleven o’clock in the evening… somebody shouted outside our house. I thought it was a drunk. It never crossed my mind that the flood was coming. The bridge collapsed and we had to evacuate. Four days before that, one of my children was discharged from the hospital for flu. My other two children were also down with the flu so when we ran, I covered them with blankets, the only things we were able to save and, of course, a small bag where I kept my money. We even left the feeding bottle of my youngest daughter, and in the middle of the night, she started crying for it.

I was very afraid of the water. Another thing was Papang and Mamang did not know anything I looked for them among the milling crowd but I did not find them. I convinced my husband to accompany me to look for them and get milk for my baby.

I found my old parents hiding inside the house for they thought there was trouble outside as they saw people running, and they heard gunfire. Somebody fired shots for people to get out of their houses. Actually when I called for my parents to get out, it took them sometime to open the door. My father’s blood pressure shot up when I told him about the flood. He could not walk so I had to drag him out of the house…

That was four o’clock in the morning. Our house was not swept away by the flood yet so we went back to put all our clothes in the sacks. We did not have our carabaos as we left them with a caretaker in another farm so we had to carry everything on our heads. I tell you, what you cannot carry, you will carry.

It was only at three o’clock in the afternoon when our house finally fell into the water. I could not bear to watch it…it was too painful. My husband watched, but later confessed to me that when the house was falling, something seemed to pierce his heart. And when our house touched the water, his tears welled up in his eyes.

The Causes of the Flood

When asked about the cause of the flood the women said that the reasons given were mere speculations. Some reasons appeared plausible, others not. They seemed to be evading to answer the question directly, but eventually they expressed what they felt and thought about it.

Rosalie said:
They said it was an explosion. It started raining at around nine o’clock in the evening, but at eleven o’clock, it was already flooded. Only two hours of rain, we already had the flood Before, it would rain for one whole day, but we never had this big flood. It was really the biggest so far.

Jose offered an explanation:
We saw the wooden bridge along the road give way, and the debris was carried by the water current behind the darn, causing an overstop, and delivering a massive flow downstream. Of course, the water really came from Lake Maughan that is why there was a flash flood. They said dynamites were used in the explosion because they wanted to get gold underneath the lake. Very old lakes yield gold. There was a case filed by the provincial government but nothing came out of it.

Aurora was non-committal in her answer. Maybe it was because she is the wife of the present barangay captain:
I don’t know what caused the flood. They said Lake Maughan only overflowed.

The narratives of the two women showed that the impact of the flood was sudden for those whose houses were in close proximity to the irrigation dam, and gradual for those whose houses were far from the dam. This latter was the case of Rosalie whose house was about four kilometers away from the dam. She said:
Almost all of the people in the barangay evacuated. The spread of the flood was not really so sudden, it was a bit gradual. Otherwise, many would have died. I do not know what it was.

On the other hand, Flora whose house was a few meters away from the dam had a different experience:
When we went out of the house, we immediately saw the sheets of water rushing from upstream down below.

Flora’s experience was shared by the other women as gleaned from their narratives.

Slow Recovery

The people of Colongulo were affected by the flash flood in varying degrees but all the same they had to start all over again. The end of the flood was not the end of their suffering. It was just the beginning of another stage of their struggle for survival. Rosalie recalled the birth of the Core Shelter, a resettlement area where there are now around 92 families that have been given house and,lot:
Of course, the government knew that the flood destroyed our houses. A few days after the flood we put up first our temporary houses by the roadside_ On 28 September 1995, Pres. Ramos visited us, and there and then he donated an amount to purchase land for the construction of our houses. On 20 November 1995 the construction started.

According to Aurora:
The provincial government bought this land and constructed houses for us. Each lot is about 10 meters by 15 meters. Remedios had her apprehensions:

The case of this resettlement area is still going on because we do not have the title to the land yet. The former owner, Mr. Miranda, mortgaged this land to a certain Domingo Uy who showed a deed of sale and a title proving he is the owner. The provincial government has the money but does not know whom to pay. Because of this situation we do not feel secure, as we do not have the title to the land in our hands.

The governor assured us that eventually the land would be ours. While the case is going on we try to be patient and not panic as we have already invested some amount in the house.

The Core Shelter is government funded. We are around 92 families. We were given the first priority for our destroyed houses were right on the riverbanks. And then, there are 114 families that were given house and lot by the Seventh Day Adventists as second priority, for their former houses were in the danger zone and the flood also affected them.

Ena should have lived in one of the core shelters but, with the permission of concerned authorities, she swapped houses with her son who wanted to stay near the house of his in-laws. She said:
After the flood, my elder brother took us to barangay Centrala. For the sake of my grandchildren’s schooling, we stayed there for three months. I felt like an exile there as my friends were here. My son then told me to transfer as this has been given by the government. But we do not have the land title. We only have our number on the list. They said some have already sold their rights…

Resettlement policies were not laid down clearly as their main purpose was only to meet the dire need for immediate housing. Rosalie wanted to make her point so she added:
We felt very insecure when one day we heard over the radio about this land. It was mentioned that they would drive us out from here. Ah, if that happens then that will be the time that I will carry a gun. I will fight for our right to be here.

We have been here for several years now. If the government had not given us this land and house, then we would not have invested in improving the house. So far, this kind of news has stopped. Before, there was somebody who came here to monitor us because about half of the beneficiaries had sold their houses. I told them that they should only monitor those who sold their houses, as they were exactly the people whose houses were not destroyed; so they did not need these houses.

I do not know what the government will do about this. By the way, they coem here from time to time. I think they will give this to us. How can they take it back? But we do not have the title to the land. If this had been paid in cash, we would already have the certificate of ownership. Pres. Ramos gave a copy to our barangay captain. That was the only copy that was supposed to be xeroxed and given to us.

Actually we complained why Adventist Relief Agency (ADRA) I and II beneficiaries have certificates of ownership while Core Shelter beneficiaries do not. The Adventists turned over all the houses. In fact, there are no Adventists in that area. Most of them are Alliance, Catholic, Jehovah Witness, UCCP, and Protestant. We have so many religious dominations here. I am really wondering why it has become so. Before there were many more Catholics, but after the flood many changed religion.

Before that the Catholic chapel was here. But the one who donated it used the land as collateral in the bank, and he could not pay back the loan anymore. Then the chapel was demolished. . .

Aside from their insecurities because of the uncertain land tenure, they also face the challenge of finding sources of livelihood. Since most of them are experienced farmers and there is no more land to till, their problem of survival continues.

When we transferred here, I opened a sari-sari store as we also have  a tricycle. For several years we did not work in the farm. We started to farm again only last year but not int he same farm. That land now is useless. All farms that were affected by the floods are now covered with sand . . . They have become unproductive. Some people have planted them with vegetables. Big boulders are all over the farms. We really have to start from square one, as we have not recovered our capital.

Not all are as lucky as Aurora. Flora described what happened to  their farms:
Our lands have not recovered their fertility. When you plant rice, it gets buried in the sand. The soil does not seem to be sandy; it’s more like lahar. It smells of sulfur. We all own vast lands of sand and stones, really useless. Before we had irrigated fertile lands, but now we are harvesting stones.

Some who used to receive regular salaries from the farm are now unemployed. Remedios lamented:

Habaluyas did not tell us to leave as caretaker of her land. She just told us that she could not afford anymore to pay us because the land does not yield anything. We were paid P500 per week for maintenance, and if we had worked in the farm, we were paid extra.

If there is an alternative place where we can work, we are ready to move out from here. What good is it to have a house when you have no source of livelihood? Before, all our needs came from the farm and we had enough.

Ena and her husband grew old in their former farm, and adjusting to their semi-retired existence in the resettlement area made them feel useless. Ena longed to go back:
My husband used to catch fish from our fishpond using a. hook. In just a few minutes he could fill up a cooking pot. Bananas were in abundance and we had a garden.

We are really in a bad time now…and we cannot do anything about it. Some of our friends tried to plow their fields again but they ended up working in another farm as daily-wage earners. Rice grows but does not bear grains even when you apply fertilizer. I do not know what disease it is!

What happened to us was most painful. We lost everything… nothing was left, not even a single dress. We had to start from zero.

We had been farming in that place since 1969. That is why I feel we are still evacuees here. We are already too old to go to other farms to work. My three daughters are in Manila working as sales ladies. They send us money for their children and for us. I have this sari-sari store to augment whatever we receive from them, even to provide fare for my grandchildren. We used to earn money on our own so I really feel useless just depending on my children’s salary.

Even Rosalie and her husband feel the pinch of impoverishment despite their having another piece of land outside Colongulo. Rosalie reiterated:
We really had to tighten our belt after the flood. Our land near the river was an irrigated first class farm, so it affected us not to be able to produce anymore from there. Maybe if you spend thousands of pesos, it can still be cleared of sand and stones. The bulldozer costs P280 per hour-for only ten hours you pay P2,800.00. And you need days to finish. How much would that cost? One thing you are not sure is whether the land underneath is still arable. If only our farm was not flooded…

We started from the very beginning again. For more than a year we did not have anything We exhausted all our savings. With all the expenses of my children in school, our daily food. Everyday we had to spend, no income, at all. We also consumed our reserved rice. We really had nothing. Good, my husband is a very hard-working man. He works really hard. When he finishes the work in our farm, he goes to plow in another farm to have extra money for my daughter’s daily bottle of coke.

Rosalie is a very enterprising and resourceful person so that even if they suffered economic setbacks,her family is still able to have their daily needs. She is proud of her accomplishment:
Most of the people here stay at home when there is no available work anywhere as farm work is also seasonal. I have my own project cow fattening. We first bought a cow. My husband suggested having somebody look after it but I insisted that I should be the one, as I did not have work to do. Then we bought another. In no time the cow gave birth, and then another. Whenever we need cash we simply sell a cow. Now I have eight cows. Two are pregnant.

In truth, people here indulge in gossip as in any barangay. They simply sit around and wait for the harvest of others to borrow money. You almost kill yourself working, while they do not do anything. I was not used to farm work but I learned. When it’s time to work you won’t find me here.

Since most people have unproductive land, they work somewhere for P100 per day which is not enough until they get another job. Some families send their daughters to work as housemaids in Manila, Marbel, Surallah or abroad.

Quo Vadis?

The exodus of the young people from Colongulo in search of employment deprives the place of more active and able-bodied members of the community. If the trend continues, social decay may set in. But if they do not leave, what chances do they have?

The now concrete highway from the town through Colongulo leading to Lake Sebu is a welcome sign of progress. It could have been a tremendous help in marketing their products. But with the vast farmlands still covered with sand and stones, where are the products that have to be transported on this road to the market?

It is ironic that the dam in the barangay does not irrigate the fields where nothing now grows except togon grass and weeds. Water in the irrigation canals is generated in the Colongulo dam, but what benefit do they get from the presence of the dam in their midst?

The resettlement area with its rows of houses has met the immediate need for shelter of the displaced flood victims. How can it province security and sustainability to its dwellers?

I do not have the answers to these questions. People know better what is best for them. They need the right projects and programs suited to their needs, a challenge indeed to our government and civic leaders.

This attempt to put in print the women stories is but a little effort. The enormous task is left undone. But I take comfort in Hastrup’s words: “Today, the responsibility for redressment lies not only with the local people, but also with the anthropological community, sharing their pain by studying it.” (Hastrup 1993).

The stories of these women give us a glimpse into the world of people in micro-disasters. There are many more out there. . .

Sprituality of the Fort-Pilar Pilgrims

Using an anthropological lens, I aim to describe in this paper the spirituality of the pilgrims of Fort Pilar Shrine in Zamboanga City. I will start by situating pilgrimage as a subject matter in anthropology and offer my choice of treating the same subject matter, as I appropriate Michel de Certeai’s praxis. I will then proceed by showing a glimpse of the historical Fort Pilar field to contextualize the physical space where the devotion to the La Virgen del Pilar emerges through time. Tracing a history of this devotion will introduce us to a kind of practical spirituality, characterized more by actions and practices and less by reflection. Then, I will proceed to show that practical spirituality is praxis and a rich ground for reflection and spiritual discoveries. In this part, I will also attempt to imply that reflection is also praxis. Then, I will end this paper with a few suggestions on how to facilitate the practice of reflection for greater spiritual emancipation.

Pilgrimage in Anthropology

In anthropological literature, the pilgrimage phenomenon has largely been treated with a structuralist tone, if we recall Emile Durkheim and Victor ‘Rimer, although Alan Nlorinis (1992) gives credit to “Bharati (1963; 1970) and ‘Rimer (1973; 1974a; 1974d; Turner and Turner 1992, 7) as those who first gave the subject serious attention within the anthropological mainstream.” With the Durkheimian inclination, “many writers on pilgrimage have perceived the activity as a crucial operator which welds together diverse local communities and social strata into more extensive collectivities- (lade and Sallnow 1991, 3). Pilgrimage, therefore, has an integrative function to societies and cultures. limier, however, offers an alternative to this functionalist view of pilgrimage. For him, it is a liminal phenomenon, with the pilgrims motivation towards communitas. Pilgrimage stands against, if not outside, structures as opposed to the functionalist’s pro-structural inclination.

More recent field researches on pilgrimage have however challenged, if not contradicted, the Turnerian view. The problem with the Turnerian model is that it “not only prejudges the complex character of the phenomenon but also imposes- a spurious homogeneity on the practice of pilgrimage in widely differing historical and cultural settings”(5). Sallnow and Eade look at the functionalist and Turnertan approaches to pilgrimage study as both with structuralist foundation because pilgrimage is “seen as either supporting or subverting the established social order” (5). In acknowledging the shortcomings, Sallnow and Eade say: “In order to transcend this somewhat simplistic dichotomy, it is necessary to develop a view of pilgrimage not merely as field of social relations but also as a realm of competing discourses” (5). The trend, therefore, shifts to discourse analysis.

While my fieldwork shows incongruence with the Turnerian model, it also deviates from a discursive treatment of pilgrimage. The main reason is that the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is more of a practice than a discourse. If I wish, I may succeed in showing competing discourses within the whole sphere of my fieldwork, but only if I were to interrogate the pilgrims’ thoughts and voices. Then I can put together those views for comparison and contrast of some competing discourses about pilgrimage. Yet, the subjects may not even think the matter worth discussing with other people. If no one asks, they may not express them. The ethnographer’s text of competing discourses may not really mirror the field in which people do not really engage in discussions. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, pilgrims neither compete with their ideas on spirituality nor on pilgrimage. In fact, Dudut, one of my pilgrim interviewees, says: Wala man namo na ginahisgutan kung unsay buhaton or unsa and among ginabuhat didto sa Fort Pilar: Ginabuhat lang man namo (We don’t seem to really discuss what to do or what we do in Fort Pilar. We simply do).

The focus of this study then tends toward viewing the pilgrims’ practices which are rooted in their tradition–interactions with locations, religious objects, built structures, and people—as they do pilgrimage at Fort Pilar and find new expressions in their dispositions. One basic element in pilgrimage is travel. As pilgrims start out on a journey, they walk on roads, pathways, and on spaces. They may take a ride, but as they enter the Shrine, they walk on specific locations. There, they touch objects, catch smoke from the burning candles, and even kiss statues of saints. Sometimes, they may hurry to leave the Shrine. At other times, they may want to linger and pray in different bodily positions. Going to the Fort Pilar Shrine means something to them.

Yet, all this has a bearing on how these pilgrims are introduced to this kind of spirituality. Pilgrimage is a product of traditions and the pilgrims’ simple improvisations. Hence, this study focuses on the spirituality embodied in the pilgrimage to Fort Pilar as a practice. To complement such kind of spirituality, this study will also show the need of reflection to harness the beauty of praxis as the nature of practical spirituality. I employ both interpretive and qualitative designs by interviewing pilgrims and personally involving myself in the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage.

Spirituality as praxis

What lens will I use as I start to see, travel, and sense with the pilgrims? Here I will demonstrate my appropriation of spirituality as not mere faithfulness to some theological doctrines whereby pilgrims have to follow what the doctrines say, but as a matter of experience only made possible but not determined by the doctrines. The miracle-legends, for example, of La Virgen del Pilar, to use Certeau’s word, permit different spiritual experiences, without objectifying the legends, since these experiences cannot exhaust their permitting character. In the same way, the miraculous experiences of the Fort Pilar pilgrims allow them a different way of looking at the world and life, thereby permitting them to experience spirituality in various ways. “The event is `historical’ not because of its preservation outside time owing to a knowledge of it that supposedly has remained intact, but because of its introduction into time with various discoveries about it for which it `makes room”‘ (Certeau 1997, 144). The miracle-legends of La Virgen del Pilar seem to have become a condition for pilgrimage and devotion to Fort Pilar.

Certeau claims that “die event is lost precisely in what it authorizes” (145). What it authorizes is a manifestation which “is no more than a multiplicity of practices and discourses which neither ‘preserve’ nor repeat the event” (146); that is why the original event is lost int he plurality of what it allows. Certeau also mentions however that the initial event becomed an inter-location: Something said-between” (145). It seems then that as the original event becomes “more and more hidden by the multiple creations” (147), it also reveals itself as it is said in between, though not revealed in any one. It is in the continuing growth of the plurality that we might see the increasing revelation of the past event. This revelation, however, does not finalize in any form of multiplicity, hence the past event still cannot be objectified in knowledge or in a doctrine. Similarly, the Fort Pilar pilgrims’ continuous devotion to La Virgen del Pilar is plurality of spiritual experiences made possible by some past events, revealing the richness of its beginning without objectifying it at once. The past event dies in the particular but lives in the plural.

It is by this that we can posit the authority in the plural as Certeau puts it: “The plural is the manifestation of the Christian meaning” (148). In this light, the truth of the Fort Pilar pilgrims’ spirituality lies not with any group known in the Fort Pilar Shrine or any priest managing the communal activities, but in the plurality of the pilgrims’ experiences. This plurality is not reduced to one. What marks spirituality is its capacity to pluralize in difference. Difference should not be placed in the context of opposition, but in the context of plurality manifesting a reality of spirituality.

In the context of difference, every “one” has a limit. “The limit is the ultimate law of death (the irreducible existence of the other is manifested in the experience of one’s own limit and death), of solidarity (each one is needed by the others), and of meaning (which cannot be identified with an individual presence or with knowledge or an objective property because it is given by the very relationships of faith and charity as an interlocution)” (149). It is by this that we suspend our judgment about the so-called fanaticism often associated with popular religiosity.

While the condition of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage implies a past event, its understanding implies the integration of the present, which in turn implies a moving on to the future. Moreover, pilgrimage is not just a movement in time but also in space where boundaries are traversed. It is in crossing boundaries that one realizes its limit. Popular spirituality is indeed a movement-praxis. Praxis “belongs to a different order from the institutionalized of theological statements from which it starts, and which it may condition” (152). Language, and perhaps meaning, cannot contain praxis. It departs from them and conditions another language and meaning. In other words, praxis is an act in the light of knowledge, but also in its darkness. It is a risk. “Praxis always brings about . . . gradual or abrupt displacements which will make possible other laws or other theologies” (152). Hence, Fort Pilar spirituality may spring from the miracle-legends, but continually reformulates them in a variety of new personal miracles, stories and experiences.

It is this spirituality as praxis that in turn sustains the pilgrims’ sacred journey as practice, from which it is also grounded and permitted. “Irreductible direclty to language, yet finding its meaning in language and providing yet new levels of meaning to language, this praxis, formed by separation from and transceding language, is fundamentally a necessary and permanent conversion” (153). The pilgrims’ spritual travels are enriched by the same pilgrimages, which also enrich their spirituality. Fort Pilar spirituality may indeed be a new form of spirituality made possible by praxis.

The Fort Pilar in Zamboanga City

One of the oldest and most historic structures in the Philippines is a square-shaped stone fort called Fort Pilar. It is situated at the southeastern part of Zamboanga City. At this corners are four bastions, of which the main is the southwest corner facing the sea, forming an ace of spades technically known as orillon (Spoehr 1969, 4). Originally, there were two entrances: One was where the present and the only entrance is situated; the other was located where the present and the only entrance is situated; the other was located where the present shrine stands and was the main entrance then (6). “Subsidies (for its construction) came from Mexico and from within the community in Zamboanga. After Cavite, it was the most important naval outpost in the entire country [Philippines]” (Rodriguez 1995, 30).

As early as 1598, the Spanish colonizers under Juan de Ronquilo built a fort in La Caldera to protect the first Christian communities. It did not last, so another forth had to be built, this time near Rio Hondo in Zamboanga City. Under the supervision of Father Melchor de Vera, SJ, a famous missionary-engireer and architect, the Fuerza Real de San Jose was built on 23 June 1635. The Spaniards abandoned this fort on 7 January 1663 in order to fortify embattled forces in Manila. Over time, the fort succumbed to neglect. By order of General Gregorio Padilla y Escalante in 1719, the Fort was reconstructed over the ruins of its old foundation under the direction of the Jesuit priest and engineer Juan de Ciscara. It was renamed Real Fuerza de La Virgen Nuestra Senora del Pilar de Zaragoza.

Gen. Vicente Alvarez attacked the Fort and defeated Spanish Gen. Diego delos Rios, who surrendered on 18 May 1899. I .ed by Gen. J.C. Bates, the American forces seized the Fort on 16 November that same year. On 2 March 1942, Fort Pilar was seized and occupied by the Japanese Imperial Forces. The American liberation troops, in collaboration with the Philippine Guerillas, recaptured the Fort three years later. ‘Fhe Fort was taken over by the Republic of the Philippines on 4 July 1946. Later, the Armed Forces of the Philippines (AFP) claimed Fort Pilar in its name.

It was perhaps the protection and security provided by the various forces that occupied the Fort that allowed its surrounding communities to develop. The influence of the Fort Pilar on Zamboanga and its people is indeed historical and it is for this reason that its influence has continued to the present.

According to Enriquez (1984, 89): “Her image [Our Lady of the Pilar], a garishly painted basso rilievoio of a woman with a child [Jesus Christ] in her arms, high up on the parapet of the moss-covered muralla [Fort Pilar], was, on the 19′ of October of each year, the object of the biggest pilgrimage in all Mindanao.”

At the start of every October begins the festivities intended for the celebration of the Fiesta Pilar in Zamboanga City. For a week or so, the festivities include agri-aqua trade, regatta, street dance, street party, parade, cultural presentation, beauty contest, sportsfest, competition, concert, exhibit, and other entertainment. The traditional afternoon procession and the High Mass at the Shrine of La Virgen del Pilar highlights the feast day on the 12th.

Stores proliferate in and around the Fort Pilar Shrine. Within the Shrine itself are the altar, the trapezoidal houses, the Blessed Sacrament, the benches, the Shrine’s office and, the candle site. Pilgrims visit the Shrine with certain levels of interests—some influenced by their promise, some by the need of grace, and others for thanksgiving. They buy candles from the stores or from itinerant vendors who begin to ply their trade as early as five o’ clock in the morning. The vendors also sell different religious objects. Pilgrims can also have souvenir photos of their visit taken by photographers who actively encourage them to avail of their business.

Within the Shrine are locations of prayer and devotion where pilgrims visit with indefinite priorities because of the unpredictable conditions brought about by having to share space with other pilgrims. There are times though, like at noon, when many of these locations are deserted. There is also the Shrine’s office where pilgrims can ask about thanksgiving masses and other Shrine activities from the clerk assigned by the administrator, who is usually a priest from the diocese. There are two main groups that coordinate with the administrator: One is the La Liga that serves in the mass activities, and the Corte de Honor that helps in the physical maintenance of the Shrine. These groups attain some cultural and social capital as they develop themselves to better serve their purpose in the Shrine. The Philippine National Police (PNP) secures the Shrine in coordination with the administrator.

The Fort Pilar Shrine may be seen as a field of “structured spaces of dominant and subordinate positions based on types and amounts of capital” (Swartz 1997, 123, citing Bourdieu). But as a field of pilgrimage, it is beyond being a field “of power struggles among holders of different forms of power, a gaming space in which those agents and institutions possessing enough specific capital to be able to occupy the dominant positions within the respective fields confront each other using strategies aimed at preserving or transforming these relations of power” (Pilario 2005, 170, citing Bourdieu).

A history of the Fort Pilar devotion

Taking off from biblical and theological bases to some concrete observations, Rodriguez (1995) describes the national as well as international historical development of Marian devotion. The extensive historical observation of Marian devotion in the Philippines only points to the needed situational observation on Our Lady of the Pillar devotion, particularly in Zamboanga City. It needs historical digging from literary archives of the people of Zamboanga and empirical evidence of what precisely these devotees in Zamboanga City perceive and do about their devotion. Thus, a line between doctrinal prescription and actual manifestation must be drawn in representing the devotees of a particular setting.

Moreover, the rapid processual changes in the Fort Pilar Shrine and in the devotees appeal to the need to focus on these people on the manner of their belief, predisposition, and spirituality. The particularly of the devotion in Fort Pilar to Our Lady of the Pillar of Zamboanga may show a different historical process of devotion indeed. For instance, Rodriguez says, on the other hand, that “the historical development of Mary’s cult can be attributed, as both cause and effect, to an extraordinary flourishing of Liturgical texts; especially well known are songs and homilies by Eastern and Western Fathers of the Church” (47). On the other hand, Enriquez says that “this undocumented incident [the miracle-legend of the sentinel and the Virgin], enacted in reladas during her fiesta almost every year at the Fort, must have given rise to the people’s belief in the Virgin’s love for Zamboanga” (190), hence their devotion. What used to merely be a frontispiece atop the main entrance of the sentinel and Mary. In time, the Shrine earned the reputation of being miraculous to both the Catholics and the non-Catholics who go there (Navarro, 1982; 1984, 197). In this sense, the devotion to Our Lady of the Pillar in Zamboanga City was born out of The legendary miraculous intervention of the Virgin Mary for the City and the people therein.

All this only points to a further research that does not see devotion only according to what is written, but also according to the pilgrims’ practices, which are rooted in previous events. It might be helpful at this point then to reiterate Fr. Alejo’s appeal on matters of popular religiosity: “Please let us give serious attention to the way ordinary people are finding God” (Alejo 2004, 52).

Tradition, according to Ellenie, a nun and a pilgrim of Fort Pilar, is mainly the first element that brings many people of Zamboanga to the Fort Pilar Shrine. Their relatives or guardians would usually bring them to Fort Pilar Shrine. Their relatives or guardians would usually bring them to Fort Pilar for various religious purposes. Mamang Choleng traces the roots of her devotion to La Virgen del Pilar: Porcausa se na mi maga mayores (It was because of my parents that I got to go to the Shrine). Daisy and Dudut, said: Ya principia yo mi debocion cuando ya segi yo con mi mayores si ta anda sila na Pilar (I started my Fort Pilar devotion by going with my parents when they went to the Fort Pilar Shrine). Today, many parents bring their babies to the Fort Pilar Shrine, notwithstanding the dusty roads and crowding people. Even the “elbow to elbow” crowd during the street dance on 12 October does not prevent parents from carting their babies or small children on the roadside to watch the spectacle. Jojo, another Fort Pilar pilgrim says: My mother used to bring me to the Shrine when I was a child.” This clarifies what Nanay Presing, an old Fort Pilar volunteer and pilgrim, also says. In her words: Cuando ya abri yo miyo ojos, ansina ya man kame (When I opened my eyes, that’s the way we did things already).

There are stories and miracles about the Fort, to include miraculous apparitions of the La Virgen del Pilar, told in some legends and as experienced by the pilgrim’s relatives or guardians. These testimonies are taken on faith and serve to influence Zamboanga pilgrims to personal devotion. Encultration obviously plays a major role as to why Zamboanga residents do pilgrimage at Fort Pilar. However, these are not the only reasons.

Some start their devotion because they experience great personal problems. For this reason and with the advice of other pilgrims, they visit the Fort Pilar Shine to ask for guidance, help, or healing. Eventually, La Virgen del Pilar’s indulgence is felt as they find relief and allevation from their difficulties. Tintin, a married pilgim, has a story: “El di miyo andada na Fort Pilar porcansa na maga pesao problema ya pasa cumigo cuando casaoya yo. Ya pruba yo primero pidi ayuda alla na Fort Pilar. Despues ya experiensia yo el epecto poreso hasta ara ta anda yo siempre alla na Fort Pilar.” (My going there was because of some compelling problems that happened to me when I got married. I tried at first to seek help from Fort Pilar. Then I experienced the effect, so that until now I still go there at the Fort Pilar Shrine). This then leads to the belief, in the same way other pilgrims are led to, that La Virgen del Pilar in miraculous.

Mamang Choleng, a Zamboangueña pilgrim, has her own reason, too: Yo principia yo serioso anda na Pilar cuando ya experiensia yo un milagro. Un dia, yaman aksidente yo. Dol nu puede ya yo kamina. Ta lleba cumigo mi tata na Fort Pilar y alya ta resa iyo. Despues, ya queda yo bueno como un milagro kay maka estrania el di miyo alibio (I started to seriously go to Fort Pilar Shrine when I experienced a miracle. I met an accident and it was almost impossible for me to walk. My father brought me to the Fort Pilar Shrine and there I prayed. Then, I got miraculously healed).

Belief, then, has something to do with their experiences rather than with what they simply hear from other people or from teachings. As pilgrims like jojo, Mommy Angelin, and Nanay Presing acclaim: Ta cre yo ay ya experiensia yo su milagro (I believe because I experience her miracles).

As the pilgrims continue to go to the Shrine, they eventually internalize the practices and gain a sense of owning their experience. This means visiting the Shine is not based on sheer obedience, tradition, or the novelty of the experience, but also because they will it. The belief they have of Fort Pilar and its patroness is, in the first place, a product of their interaction with the Fort environs from which emerges a personal explanation of their need to go to the Shrine. The foundation of the belief they have of the Lady and the Fort finds connection and relevance to their current needs. For the pilgrims, these needs are usually special and important; they are relative to survival, health, economics, moral, mental, attitudinal — almost constitutive of a person’s well-being.

The belief they have of La Virgen del Pilar is historical and not limited to only one epoch or to the many legends attributed to her that pilgrims vaguely remember today. It is not also traceable only to their observations with their parientes (relatives) from long time ago. Included in the sources of their belief are the day-to-day experiences of the many answered prayers believed to have been miraculously facilitated by the La Virgen. Ellen, an Episcopalian pilgrim of Fort Pilar, confidently says: Cuando ya pidi yo ayuda cunel La Virgen ya pasa yo miyo board exam (When I asked help from the La Virgen del Pilar, I passed my board exam). Dudut has the same story when she passed the Test on English as a Foreign Language (TOEFL) that allowed her qualification to work abroad. They believe that it is God who answers their prayers, but La Virgen plays a big role as intercessor. This makes La Virgen their “mother.” Yet, there are those who think that it is La Virgen del Pilar who directly answers their prayers.

Other people’s experiences of answered prayers strengthen belief and motivate many to go to the Fort Pilar Shine. The pilgrims seem to be the kind of people who are willing to try what others suggest or believe, especially when urgent needs arise. Perhaps many of them uphold what Mommy Angelin, an old pilgrim, claims: “To see is to believe.”

For many, the Fort Pilar is a more inviting destination to express their hopes and desires. The Churches are considered merely as places for attending masses and for normal thanksgiving or prayer. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, aside from the everyday mass, the pilgrims sense the loving presence of a mother who can guide and help them in fulfilling their important needs, especially the difficult-to-achieve ones. That is why Dudut, a nurse and a pilgrim, professes: Mu anha ko’s Fort Pilar labi na kanang depress or broken hearted ko (I go to Fort Pilar especially when I’m depressed or brokenhearted). She considers Mary as her “Ordinary mother.” Ellanie, another pilgrim, even considers Mary as a real friend with whom she has an intimate relationship.

Yet, there is also a gray area as to why people go the the Shrine. In many instances, pilgrims say, nu sabe yo porque (I don’t know why). After acknowledging the element of belief and miracles, some would still find mystery in what they do and could not really say why they go. As Ellanie muses, Ta lleba lanf comigo niyo pies (I am just carried by my feet). In moments of deep emotional stress, she just finds herself in the Shrine. Pilgrims find mystery in shy they just find themselves preparing to go to the Shrine without much planning and decision. They find themselves in the practice of pilgrimage and do not have enough awareness why they travel.

This is not to say that they do not entirely know why they go to the Shrine. This is only to imply that pilgrimage and devotion is more of an act than a fact. Pilgrimage and devotion is not usually talked about, but walked about. Thus, words fail to explain why and it is only when they are asked, like in an interview, that they start to articulate what is implied in their pilgrimages. It is in this sense that I find the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage a potent phenomenon to explore.

Practicality in Spirituality

I notice in mu encounter with the pilgrims of Fort Pilar that they organize (although with much variation) space, time, meaning, and communication implicity. By implicity, I mean the organizing acts lie much in the level of practice than in the level of reflection. For example, Daisy, a working mom and a pilgrim, says: Hinde ya yo ta pensa cunel camino (I don’t think of the route anymore). Tintin, another pilgrim, also says, “The length of the travel is not important. We do not think of it anymore.” Their devotion start in tradition then proceeds to belief. They organize time as manifested by their choices and temporal manipulation. Their spirituality is formed through the immediacies and urgencies of their daily life, but they hardly reflect on them. They organize communication as they have ways and forms of praying or dialoguing with their Deity or saints. They convey messages in their gestures and in their silence without really reflecting on these. In Daisy’s words: “It has been practiced, but not discussed.” They organize meaning as they put value and significance on many things they do in the Fort Pilar Shrine. They also have the sense of the many figures and symbols in the Shrine, but very few moved to articulate this. Their spirituality takes form in the recreation of meaning, but they hardly sense this.

Pastoral theologian Mary G. Durkin (1988, 19), comments that “parents are the first and most influential religious educators, “For many of these pilgrims, the beginnings of the devotion to Fort Pilar rest on the practice of accompanying guardians or parents as they go on their pilgrimage. There is an element of blindness here. Aside from having been brought to the Fort Pilar Shrine at a very young age, children were clarified by adults on what and why they reach the age of reason, they more often than not carry on this tradition of practical spirituality, seldom feeling the call to articulate it.

The central characteristic of practical spirituality is practice. It is a spirituality of actions and practices rooted in a culture less of reflective expressions of piety. It is popular religiously in the context of ordinary spatial, temporal, and communicative involvement. To be reflective is to be consciously sensitive to the messages and implications of what happens, to be thinking beings actively “re/reading” human experiences to further awareness. Practival spirituality does not necessarily help the pilgrim grow in terms of reflective ability, but it may very well be for this reason that it can recruit practitioners.

This, in as far as I reflect, this is my reading of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage. I must, however, warn that I do not intend to purport the idea that no one practices reflective spirituality in the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage. There are those who reflect on what they do as they travel to Fort Pilar, but they are few. This phenomenon perhaps explains the pilgrim’s struggle to find expression about what they do when they are asked about their pilgrimage. Most readily admit that Nu sabe yo porque yo se la ase (I don’t know why I am doing that). Others say, Ancina ya came cosa ta ase (That has been how we do things), Ansina ya came ya engranda (We grew up with this kind of practice), and Por enasa se na di among mayors (It is because of our parents or guardians). The most unexpected answer I got as to why they go the Shrine was. No bay lang (It is just nothing). At that time, I was tempted to think that perhaps the question was wrong because it assumed reflective spirituality on a phenomenon that lacked such.

Part of the practical spirituality is the habit of simply hearing (as different from listening) religious doctrines and popular experiences. Even if many attend the everyday mass at Fort Pilar Shrine, many still do not exhibit the messages in their communities. As diocesan priest Fr. Mike says: “(It) is widely observed that people do not apply what they need hear and say” — and indeed, the observation may hold true for many Christians in Zamboanga City. During mass, recollections, and retreats, the priests remind the faithful of the gospel messages in layman’s terms. As one observes, there are many churches in downtown Zamboanga City and in its barangays. The people attending masses in there places of worship are numerous, too. Yet the question still lingers, “Why don’t we do what we hear and say?” Perhaps it is because people are embedded with practical spirituality. Of course, there are many who apply what they hear and say within the context of their belief. Yet, my interviews with many pilgrims of Fort Pilar seem not to show this.

During the 2004 and 2005 Ateneo de Zamboanga University (ADZU) processions to the Forth Pilar Shrine, the novena prayers were said loud enough, attracting mush attention from the people on the sidewalks. The procession/pilgrimage to the Fort Pilar was indeed full of prayers and and show of sacrifice. No wonder, my impression was that it was a spiritual act and an expression of who the participants were. This impression was not entirely wrong.

My interview with some students and friends who participated in the 2005 ADZU pilgrimage did not disprove the mentioned popular opinion — of not doing what they hear and say — perhaps because my interviews were not about it. However, there was a common thread that ran through their answers to my queries: They did not bother to ask what they were doing in relation to their spirituality. The students agreed that they were not really thinking about the pilgrimage, even as they participated in it. What was quite clear to them was that they joined the procession, they walked, they prayed and they went with their companions. Behind the actions was nothing really related to the question of their action and spirituality.

There seems to be a rich spiritual experience as many pilgrims do pilgrimage, novena, rosary, and attend mass. However, this spiritual experience seems to lie more in practice than in awareness. Many of my questions about what they did and what these actions meant were left unanswered. They seems to do what they hear perhaps because they think less of what is heard. Also, these pilgrims who do not often think of what they do seem not to do what they say. Perhaps this is because these pilgrims think less of what they say. Saving is actually doing, hence practical. It is an act that very few of the pilgrims think about or reflect on.

This is where the organization of spirituality rests more on practice than in awareness. However, there seems not much growth in simply doing things without being aware of them or internalizing them. What growth would there be in the self when it is not deeply aware of itself?

Praxis and reflection

To understand practical spirituality requires that one not only relate it to its past or dig up its characteristics, but also to situate its being present in the context of a process for the future. As a continuing act, practical spirituality is a movement-praxis. Practical spirituality may spring from events and discourses of miracle-legends or from a tradition, but that it also continually reformulates them. “Irreducible directly to language, yet finding its meaning in language and providing yet new levels of meaning to language, this praxis, formed by separation from and transcending language, is fundamentally a necessary and permanent conversion” (Certeau, 153).

One example that leads to this point is perhaps how many pilgrims of Fort Pilar consider La Virgen del Pilar as the mother of Jesus Christ who serves as the intercessor to the grace of God the Father. In other words, many pilgrims are aware that when they ask for healing or any help, the first share it to La Vrgen del Pilar and ask her to deliver those pleas to the Most Powerful God the Father.

But there are pilgrims who directly pray to La Virgen del Pilar in the belief that she can miraculously heal and help them. They feel no need to bother God the Father with their concerns. They think of La Virgen del Pilar as a Divine Mother who miraculously helps them in their needs and problems in the same way as God the Father does. The pilgrims’

communication to La Virgen del Pilar has become so intimate that the dialogue seems to have gone exclusive and personal. Hence, to these devotees, La Virgen del Pilar seen-is to be on the same footing as God, a belief that courts unorthodoxy if not outright heresy. Whatever the case, many pilgrims articulate their spirituality in the context of religion with small “r” rather than with capital “R”.

In recognition of the pilgrim’s tendency toward this unorthodox belief, the administrator of the Fort Pilar Shrine tries to lead pilgrims into the Eucharistic awareness rather than what is believed to be popular religious practices.

It can be noted, however, that this unorthodox belief does not even threaten the day-to-day pilgrimages in the Fort Pilar Shrine, contrary ‘ to what Turner implies when he says, “I am at present inclined to favor the view that a pilgrimage’s best chance of survival is when it imparts to religious orthodoxy a renewed vitality, rather than when it asserts against an established system a set of heterodox opinions and unprecedented styles of religious and symbolic action” (1972, 229-230). There are many other unorthodox practices in the Fort Pilar Shrine that are observable up to the present, like some of the sacramentals (punas-punas, putting of rosary beads in the vehicle for safety, kissing the statues of saints, etc.), but do not in anyway lessen the pilgrimage’s survival. On the contrary, I am inclined to believe that they contribute to the propagation of pilgrimage to the Fort Pilar Shrine because many have proven the emancipatory effects of these unorthodox practices in their ordinary lives. Pilgrimages like this promise to proliferate because their value and significance resonate with the humanness and the mundane life of pilgrims.

The pilgrims’ dialogue with the Deity and/or deities does not only show dependence vis-a-vis providence, but also intimacy. This intimacy is clear in the way pilgrims relate to La Virgen del Pilar. This relationship is so intense that in its being so popular, some describe this religiosity unorthodox. Beyond comparing this religiosity to doctrines is its appeal to solidarity in prayer – an appeal more to the truth of the pilgrims’ being as experienced in everyday life than to the truth found on texts.

This observation surfaced during my interview with those pilgrims. However, the observation was not foremost in their mind. It was my series of questions that led us to acknowledge their communication with La Virgen to be so, especially to those pilgrims who have a background on some Catholic doctrines. This only implies that they do communicate more than they think about their communication. It is in an event, like an interview, that a realization such as this happens. It is in communication still, like in an interview, that how they communicate and what it implies can be observed. To assume, therefore, that “you can’t wink (or burlesque one) without knowing what counts as winking or how, physically to contract your eyelids, and you can’t conduct a sheep raid (or mimic one) without knowing what it is to steal a sheep and how practically to go about it” (Geertz 1973, 12) is without assurance.

The pilgrims’ consideration of La Virgen del Pilar as God implies praxis that may have been influenced by some institutionalized doctrines (although much of the influence is from the miracle-legends of La Virgen in the Fort Pilar in Zamboanga City), but which may condition or influence the same doctrines. This practice is indeed different from the institutionalized prescription on Christian spirituality. This does not even resonate with what many learn from schools or from seminaries.

It is in this fashion that the institutionalized spiritual language finds difficulty in accommodating this peculiar practical spirituality. It is the nature of this kind of spirituality that challenges the language of dogmatism and orthodoxy. What is exciting here is what this practice can contribute as it shakes norms and accepted maxims. It can indeed open up new theologies or new ways of becoming spiritual. In it lies the potential for better understanding and learning of popular spirituality.

As praxis, practical spirituality emerges as a rich ground for reflection and spiritual discoveries. Its being practical for quite a long time in the history of the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage increases its potentiality for understanding and meaning. It awaits its revelation through the pilgrim’s reflective responses. It is there, ready to be deciphered and to be reflectively organized. It is Waiting to be thought of and to be articulated. In a culture of much practicality, the call for reflection is not only more of a need, but also of a promising project for spiritual growth.

Abstract images usually accompany reflection. The latter in its process would normally find much sense and product by focusing on the former. It is my contention, however, that reflection can best harness its worth when complemented with praxis. Abstract images can indeed broaden imagination and reflection, but may not find expression in the actuality of life. Many of those imaginations are enjoyed mostly by the mind, less by the body. ln this sense, reflections from images empty of actuality usually have short life spans in the consciousness of people. It is perhaps when reflection is derived from praxis that it will easily be practiced. What use does reflection have when it does not penetrate into the everyday life of people? Its worth is seen when it is able to give language to what is happening in communities and by which new praxis emerges to Continue this process.

Considering practical spirituality as praxis would constitute a call for attention and focus. This call, however, is never a simple cultural project. It may require a paradigm shift, but this shift must start on the practical level. A culture with much focus on practicality has to use what it has mastered in developing a new habit. Reflection, therefore, is not a mere mental act but must also be practiced. Pilgrims have to slowly make a habit of reflecting over their own spiritual experiences. Making reflection a habit will surely unearth the mysteries of the long-been-waiting practical spirituality to be self-manifested in language and praxis. It is by developing the habit of reflection that the Fort Pilar spirituality may be given proper attention and pilgrims may gain better grasp of their own spirituality.

Juxtaposing reflection with practical spirituality may give pilgrims the venue for better spiritual understanding. It will be a process of organizing meanings on t he nature of their spirituality. Their spiritual experiences will then be names and descriptions. It is by this that practical spirituality will be given processual form and substance and would truly become praxis.

The call for reflection over practical spirituality then is a call not only to understand the kind of popular spirituality pilgrims practice, but also to decipher its relevance for the everyday life in the community.. Durkin (21-4) suggests that there is a failure to link Marian devotion to real-life situations, like the male-female relationship and family life. Perhaps the reason for this gap is that the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is a practical spirituality with less reflection and hence the same project of reflection may bridge the gap. Even Durkin’s suggestive integration of Mary’s images in the family spirituality (26-31) presupposes a reflective element in the believers.

If indeed it would seem difficult for a culture immersed with practicality to reflect over its spiritual experiences, reading reflections that are based on events rather than mere words would be helpful. These reflections are often read in papers and heard in masses or spiritual discourses. Reflections based on words or texts may help, but much more proper for reflection is the popular spirituality of the people themselves. This is because praxis is ricer that words. Any events is an opportunity for reflection. It may perhaps be better to reflect on how things are said than what are said. In the Fort Pilar Shrine, it is the pilgrims’ practical spirituality as praxis that would serve as food for thought, which in turn would be challenged by consequent spiritual practices. This process, I am inclined to believe, emansipates pilgrims who are faithful to what they do.

For roughly 300 years, Protestants considered additional enthusiasm for Mary a form of “Mariolatry.” However, Protestants are now-restoring Mariology (Van Biema 2005, 40), perhaps because of the undeniable force of reflection over human spiritual experiences. It may be a new way of interpreting Mariology. Not merely as texts in the Bible, but also as Mary’s event. In the same way, the recent concern of many religious denominations to Marian reinterpretations is, for me, a result of the reflective response to the forceful call of popular Marian spirituality in the grassroots level. Taking this as praxis may indeed challenge previous doctrines and theologies. In the end, only when theologies are reflected from spiritual experiences can we spiritually grow and put substance to a profound adage: “Life is a pilgrimage.”

Zurich trained Jungian analyst and clinical psychologist Thomas Patrick Lavin (1988, 32-47) theorizes that there is such a thing as Christianity’s Mary Complex, which in history has been repressed by the patriarchal foundations of Christian theologies. This repression has resulted tot he denigration of the female identity through the years and the hindrance of discovering the “divine aspect of the feminine and/or the feminine aspect of the divine as symbolized Mary, “Borrowing Carl Gustav Jung’s neutrality of complexes and there potentiality for human wholeness, Lavin, in a forceful way, suggests the balancing of the Mary’s images become a source of deep religions experience and discovery of God. In this way Lavin believes that the Mary Complex will heal a suffering culture.

In the contemporary period, as Lavin implies, there is an increasing Marian attention both in the Church and in popular piety. Marian devotion is central in the Fort Pilar. This, however, does not automatically imply a full participation in Lavin’s exhoration on Mary because the Fort Pilar Pilgrimage is more of a practical spirituality than a reflective one. Pilgrims there manifest Marian Spirituality, but much of the actual Marian images and symbols are not yet quite clear and reflectively processed in their consciousness. Hence, I propose that only in habitual spiritual reflection can the pilgrims of Fort Pilar actively participate in what Lavin suggests and find emancipatory grown in spirituality.

Marital Rape: The Case of Remedios Baudon

The search for Remedios Baudon finally ended when I tracked her pr down to her “hiding place,” the Camp Domingo Leonor, which   is the seat of Davao City police command. A most unusual refuge, I thought then, for rape victim-survivors like Remedios, to have taken shelter in the police barracks.

My search for her began when the Women’s Feature Service (WFS) asked me to write a story about Remedios who had just won a conviction against her husband for marital rape, the first Filipino woman perhaps to have ever come forward and sue her husband for marital rape. Despite its significance though, the story merited scant attention from the media, which at most carried the story in the inside pages and merely detailing gory, graphic facts of the rape.

I was no different actually from the rest. While I knew that marital rape is now penalized under the new Anti-Rape Law, it remained an abstract legal parlance for lawyers like me. Marital rape, while not expressly defined by law, is now tacitly recognized because of the provision that “a husband may be the offender of a rape charge and the wife the offended party.” It took an assignment for the WFS that made me see the extent and prevalence of marital rape, how it has been a living, tangible reality for many married women, how it shatters lives, homes and dignity, and how, for one woman, it meant losing a baby.

Until now, four years after it was passed, the innovation brought by the Anti-Rape Law is not known to people outside feminist groups and the legal community. ” That woman is crazy,” a taxi driver commented when told about the conviction of Remedios’s husband, Eleuterio, who was also a driver of the same company. ‘No wife in her right mind would want her husband arrested, much more accuse him of raping her.”

In a culture that regards sex in marriage as “wifely duty,” marital rape is a fiction, an aberration, an exception. “Traditionally, marriage is understood in our culture to include the marital obligation of spouses to give each other the right to each other’s body,” writes Presbitero J. Velasco, Jr.,(1998) a justice of the Philippine Court of Appeals. Thus, it comes as no surprise that the criminalization of marital rape was met with apprehension for its possible “negative impact on the family and the adverse psycho-social and emotional repercussions to children.” Marital rape is regarded as a threat by some, fearing that it may be “detrimental and inimical to the preservation of marriage.”

Because marriage in the Philippines is an inviolable social institution, the state has a duty to protect it at all costs. Prior to the Anti-Rape Law, a husband cannot be guilty of rape of his own wife because of the “matrimonial consent which she gave when she assumed the marriage relation.”

“There is a tension in our society between those who want all women to be protected from sexual assault and those who are concerned about protecting the marital relationship,” declares Mittie D. Sutherland in her 1992 article, “Assaultive Sex: The Victim’s Perspective.” It is this sort of tension that I wanted to explore in this paper. And so one November morning I entered the gate of Camp Domingo Leonor, armed with copies of the court decision, case stenographic notes, and a few notes on marital rape downloaded from the Internet. I asked directions from the sentry and found myself in the office of my “contact,” Police Major Lorna Molina. She introduced me to Remy whom I had expected to be someone younger. Enough of the myths that I myself had fallen prey to, portraying rape victims to be young, virginal-looking women. Remedios is 38 years old, but just as defenseless and vulnerable, I would later learn, and this is her story:

I come from a small barrio called Lica, in Mlang, Cotabato, the tenth of 15 children of a farmer. When my father died, I left to work as a househelp in Davao City. Years later, I was hired as canteen helper in a hospital. In the city, I had no relatives, only a few friends in the boarding house where I stayed. One Sunday, my friends invited me to go to the park. I refused but they were insistent, so finally I relented. What I didn’t know then was that they were setting me up for a ‘blind date’ with a man named Eleuterio.

I met him in the park. Soon after, my friends left me with him. When I insisted on going home, he offered to accompany me. We rode a taxi but I started to notice something unusual when the places became unfamiliar to me. ‘This is not the way to my boarding house,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry,’ I remembered him saying, ‘I’m taking you to my house because it is late. It is not safe for women to be alone at night.’ It was then that I got scared, but I didn’t know how to go home. Finally, we arrived in a house where there were children and adults. His relatives, he said. Seeing the children somehow assured me that maybe he meant no harm. He brought me to a room and left me very soon. I fought off sleep but I was very tired that I dozed off. Sometime in the middle of the night, when all was silent, I woke to find him all over on top of my body. I pleaded for him not to touch me. But he raped me, threatening to harm me if I shouted for help.

Soon after the rape, I left my boarding house. But he was able to hunt me down by following me from the hospital where I worked. Not long after, he forced open the lock of my rented room and waited for me. When I arrived, I was surprised to see him and immediately asked for him to leave. But he insisted on staying, saying that he intended to live with me. I had no choice but to allow him because I was afraid and he already ‘touched’ me.

In my barrio, I had a neighbor who was beaten up (gikulata) by her brothers for having been ‘touched’ by a man. A woman who has been ‘touched’ loses her honor if the man does not marry her. I was afraid of getting pregnant because I have seven brothers. If they found out that I had been ‘touched,’ they might beat me up also.

At first, he was very sweet and kind, trying to woo me. But I never loved him. After a month, the beatings started. He came home drunk all the time, and I suspected, high on drugs. He would kick and punch my breast, my back, thighs and legs. He got a kick out of seeing me covered with blood first before having sex with me. I often refused because it was very painful. He wanted to do it the way animals do it, he said, ‘doggie style.’ He loved it when I had menstruation because he was happy to see blood.

Still, I pretended to be happy and remained hopeful that maybe someday he would change. I even brought him to my barrio to meet my mother and brothers. No one ever knew the ordeal that I suffered with him, not my mother, my brothers, or even our board mates. They did not know that he treated me like a pig.

After a year and half of `living-in’ with him, he proposed marriage. He said that when I become his wife, I would be his property and he could do anything with me. I remembered answering back, `Maybe you mean to beat me up.’ Still, I consented thinking that maybe he would change when I become his wife and the mother to his child. But I was wrong. He never became husband to me because he was often away for days, for weeks, and came home once in a while only to have sex with me. And the beatings became worse.

I was three months pregnant when he came home on the morning of September 4, 1999. He barged into the door and found me folding clothes on the floor. let’s play basketball,’ he said. Every time I heard him say that, I crouched it? fear for I knew what he meant. I refused, fearful of my baby in my womb. But he dragged me to the floor, ripped my underwear, and forced himself on me. Soon after, I found blood in my genitals. He left me soon after. That same night, he returned to rape me again despite the pain. And the bleedings did not stop. Two days later, I brought myself to the hospital where I was told that I had a miscarriage.

Ten days later, he returned. Despite my condition, he demanded sex again. When I refused, he held a knife in my neck and forced me to have sex. ‘Better kill me now I can no longer bear the pain. I am not a dog: I pleaded with him. I spent days and nights crying over the loss of my baby and the pain in my genitals. I wandered on the streets like a crazed woman not knowing where to go. One time, I found myself entering a house where an old woman took pity on me. I was desperate and wanted to kill myself. But she told me that if I did, I could not give my baby justice and my husband would only be laughing at my dead body. I went to San Pedro Church and asked my baby to help me seek justice against the father who killed her. The Lord is truly kind because right after the church, I found myself entering the Camp Domingo Leonor where I accidentally met Maj. Molina who is my town mate. Not only did she give me food and shelter, she helped me file a case. A few months later, my husband was arrested and was found guilty by the court Now I am happy because my baby was finally given justice.

The Remy Baudon Case: A Profile of Marital Rape Victim-Survivor

Remy’s case is a complex one, composed of multi-faceted layers that had to be plucked bit by bit in order to be comprehended. Taken from a legal standpoint, the crimes committed by her husband were the following rape (the sexual assault during the first date, but was condoned when Remy entered into marriage with the offender), physical injuries (wife-battering), marital rape aggravated by the fact of pregnancy which makes the crime heinous, and intentional abortion (for the miscarriage because the husband knew that she was pregnant at the time of the sexual assault).

But Remy was not aware that her husband had committed violations against her person and honor. Perhaps it was the societal expectations of her as she had perceived that deterred her from seeking protection. Coming from a barrio where virginity is equated with chastity, her belief is that women should marry the man with whom she had her first sexual contact. A woman who loses her virginity outside of marriage also loses her honor and place in society.

Based on these perceptions and beliefs, it is logical to conclude that it was more out of fear, fear of being punished by her family and society that compelled her to keep her burden in secrecy and shame. (If they (brothers) found out that I had been ‘touched,’ they might beat me up also) It was also out of this fear of rejection by family and society that made her allow her perpetrator to live with her, that made her enter into a loveless marriage, which is also to a certain extent, a form of salvaging a “damaged honor.” Through marriage and pregnancy, she also believed that the ordeal would stop, that the beatings would cease. But these proved to be false hopes.

Through all these, she bore her sufferings in silence. “I pretended to be happy and remained hopeful,’ again rising to the expectations of society that married couples are supposed to be living in wedded bliss. Besides, she believed that it was her obligation, “a wifely duty,” to submit to her husband’s sexual needs.

It took the life of the baby in her womb for the ordeal to stop when the interventions came—police, judiciary, religious, and women’s support groups.

Societal Perceptions on Rape

“For feminist researchers, rape is ultimately a result of sex role stereotyping in the form of learned gender roles,” Sutherland notes. “Society labels behavior as feminine or masculine based on early socialization, which is reinforced by the normative, institutional, and legal structures of the society!”

Society perceives rape as a forced intercourse in which the vagina is penetrated by the penis and ejaculation results. There must also be some form of resistance from the victim, who sustains injuries in warding off the attack, who immediately reports the attack to the police. She must not also be a woman of loose morals. The perpetrator is a psychopathic stranger, and there is a witness to the assault. Sutherland says, “Such perceptions shape the ways we as a society respond to rape in legal definitions, criminal justice system responses, and the way we treat the rape victim. The perceptions also influence the victim’s response to the rapeevent, which partly explains why the incidences of rape remain underreported.”

Two theories are presented as to the motives for rape: (1) as an act of male dominance and (2) as a simple act of aggression. Sutherland (quoting Gordon and Riger 1989) however says rape is really a form of male dominance and thatwomen have been carefully socialized to this viewpoint. Feminists see rape as an ” extreme form of sexual exploitation and as a violent method to keep women in their place,” Sutherland notes. “Male dominance in the form of rape is merely aggressive behavior towards women, which is an inevitable part of the culture. Males are socialized to be the aggressive seducer and females to be passive prey and sex objects.”

Sutherland (quoting Knight, Rosenberg, and Schneider 1985) reviews the various profile types of rapists and classifies them into three groups as follows: ‘One is aggressive during the offense either to enhance his sense of power or masculinity or to express feelings of mastery and conquest. A second commits rape out of anger toward women and seeks to hurt, humiliate, and degrade his victim. He becomes sexually aroused in response to violence and commits brutal, sometimes bizarre assaults. The final type has an extensive criminal history; sexual offenses are only one component of any impulsive, antisocial lifestyle.”

Remedios’s husband displayed acts which are deemed to be a combination of the first two—aggressiveness and anger. I want to marry so I can do anything with you.

The Occurrence of Marital Rape

An Act of Violence

Most researchers agree that rape in marriage is an act of violence–an abuse of power by which a husband attempts to establish dominance and control over his wife (Bergen 1999).

A strong indication supporting the theory that marital rape is an act of violence are the research findings that majority of women who are raped by their partners are also battered. Called “battering rapes,” the victims experience both physical and sexual violence in the relationship. “Some are battered during the sexual violence, or the rape may follow a physically violent episode where the husband wants to ‘make up’ and coerces his wife to have sex against her will,” -Bergen also says.

Other women also experience “sadistic’ or “obsessive” rape which involve “torture and/or `peverse’ sexual acts and are often physically violent.” Husbands also often rape their. wives ” when they are asleep, or use coercion, verbal threats, physical violence or weapons to force their wives to have sex.”

By Remy’s account, Eleuterio would beat her either before or after the rape, and liked to engage in perverse sexual acts.

The Risk Factor

There is no composite picture of a husband-rapist but these men are often portrayed as “jealous, domineering individuals who feel a sense of entitlement to have sex with their property.” However, some risk factors are cited, which include the following “women who are already battered, pregnancy, being ill or recently discharged from the hospital, drug and alcohol use by the abuser.” Strikingly, many of these factors are present in the Baudon case, which only highlight the fact that Remy was victimized because she was particularly vulnerable, having no friends, relatives and other support systems.

The Effects of Marital Rape

Marital rape often has severe and long-lasting trauma for victim-survivors. The physical effects of marital rape may include “injuries to the vaginal and anal areas, lacerations, soreness, bruising, torn muscles, fatigue and vomiting.” Campbell and Alford (1989) report that one half of the marital rape survivors in their sample were kicked, hit or burned during sex.

Specific gynecological consequences or marital rape include “vaginal stretching, miscarriages, stillbirths, bladder infections, infertility and the potential contraction of sexually-transmitted diseases.” The rape caused Remy’s miscarriage. According to a medical report of the Davao Medical Center, it was caused by trauma in the cervix during sexual intercourse which may occur when it is done without the women’s consent.

Sutherland also says, “sexual assault is a severe, traumatic, and often life-threatening event from which many victims never fully recover.”

The Prevalence of Marital Rape

Throughout the history of most societies, it has been acceptable for men to force their wives to have sex against their will. This legal exemption is traced back to Sir Matthew Hale, Chief Justice in 17th Century England when he wrote, “The husband cannot be guilty of a rape committed by himself upon his lawful wife, for by their matrimonial consent and contract, the wife hath given herself in kind unto the husband which she cannot retract” (quoted in Russell 1990). Because of this, wives have been treated as the property of their husbands and the marriage contract is deemed an entitlement of sex.

However, the pioneering researches made on marital rape reveal that it is an “extremely prevalent form of sexual violence,” accounting for approximately 25 percent of all rapes (Randall & Haskall 1995, cited in Bergen). Researches also estimate that between 10% and 14% of married women experience rape in marriage.

Despite the prevalence of marital rape, this problem has received little attention from social scientists, practitioners, the criminal justice system, and the larger society as a whole. “It was not until the 1970s that we began, as a society, to acknowledge that rape in marriage could even occur,” Bergen observes.

The same may be said in the Philippines where marital rape is yet to gain public attention. “Many Filipino wives do not realize that they have a right over their bodies,” says Sister Josephine Bacaltos, executive director of the Women Network Group, a consortium of women groups in Davao City. “Treated as chattels or property by their husbands, a lot of women become resigned to their fate, until it reaches a point that their bodies can not take it anymore,” she says.

Remy is only one among scores of women physically injured and raped by their husbands or live-in partners. The Coalition Against Trafficking of Women reports that husbands account for 53.8 percent of the perpetrators of domestic violence and rape. More than half of the victims are married.

In Southern Mindanao, husbands comprise more than half of the perpetrators of the 719 reported cases of violence against women (VAW) from June to December 1999, according to the National Statistical Coordination Board.

Four out of 100 respondents in Southern Mindanao were also physically harmed while pregnant, a figure higher than the national rate of only three out of 100 women. This may be due to the campaign by women’s groups urging women to report VAW cases.

While these statistics show the rise of domestic violence, there is scant data on the extent of marital rape in the Philippines. So far, only Remy has filed a case in Davao City and won a conviction.

Feminist researcher Rosena Sanchez, co-coordinator of the Ateneo Task Force on Gender, Sexuality and Reproductive Health, says that while there is yet no local research done on marital rape, the issue crops up in forum group discussions among women in the communities. She cites in particular a 1996 study made among women working in one of the banana plantations in Davao.

The women, according to Sanchez, even coined a term – “Langkat Panty” – to refer to the act by which the husbands force their wives to have sex. Hyperbolically, the women described their “panties as being stretched to a kilometer” by their husbands when they refused, prompting them to wear two kinds of panties: one with garter in the morning, and one without a garter in the evening.

Triumph

“I was convinced that she was telling the truth,” explains Judge Renato Fuentes of the Regional Trial Court in Davao City when asked why he sentenced Eleuterio Baudon to reclusion perpetua. His decision states: “It is now clear and definite that a husband cannot utilize his right of sexual intercourse with his wife, perfunctorily as he pleases, without the consent and cooperation of the wife.”

His landmark decision is being hailed as a “breakthrough in jurisprudence” by women advocates, which they say is also sending a strong message to husbands that they can no longer force themselves upon the wife.

Remy is earning commendation for paving the way for other women to come forward and for showing them that they have a chance. ” We are demystifying the people’s belief that marital rape cannot happen. But it does, even in love marriages,” says Lyda Canson, executive director of the Bathaluman Crisis Center.

Remy’s triumph was not hers alone—it was shared by a network of institutions and support systems: the police, the judiciary and the women’s support groups such as the Woment and the Bathaluman. Much of the credit belongs to the Women’s and Children’s Desk of Davao City police, who assisted her in a tedious formal process that ranged from blotter reports, evidence gathering, the filing and prosecution case, the arrest of the offender, the court trials, up to the conviction. Not only were they present in all these stages, the WCD police, in particular Major Molina, also took her into custody by providing board and lodging in Camp Domingo Leonor.

Remy though was not able to hire a private prosecuting lawyer because she could not afford one. But there was a fiscal who understood her case and who was able to prosecute it successfully towards conviction. The judge was sympathetic and readily acknowledged the existence of marital rape sans the prejudices and biases that are usually attendant in sexual assault cases.

Conclusions

The novelty of the Baudon case has brought about a felt need to study and understand the whole concept of marital rape which represents “the changing tide of legal innovations,” as Judge Fuentes describes it. It is so because the penalization of marital rape is the fruit of lobbying efforts made by women to break down cultural barriers on gender-biased discrimination. It challenges well-entrenched beliefs and myths adhered to by traditional society which sanctions and perpetuates the continued oppression of women, a challenge also addressed to the institutions that bind society.

Remy Baudon is a victim, not by her husband alone, but also by us, the institutions, and society as a whole. Her perceptions on the expectations demanded of her as a woman, perpetuated by our culture itself, are the culprit to her bondage—physical, emotional and mental. To some measure, we stand as her aggressors also, and despite the abundance of socio-legal protective measures, we have failed to protect and defend her.

Were it not for the death of an innocent (the fetus in her womb), the interventions would not have come into play. Instinctively, we sheltered her from life’s blows because she was a mother agonizing over the death of a baby. It was not so much because she was a wife—oppressed, beaten and raped by a husband—it was more out of pity and mercy on her as a mother who lost her baby.

But while society failed her at the start, it was the institutions which delivered her from oppression. Society was able to recover from its failure, to deliver its intervention and assistance, to liberate her from her ordeal. While this society is torn schizophrenically between traditional cultural beliefs and the recognition of woman’s struggle for gender equality, it can still resolve its conflicts and strive to correct its faults and errors.