INQUIRER NORTHERN LUZON
Inquirer Northern Luzon : Baguio City faces garbage challenge
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer Inquirer Northern Luzon
Posted date: November 25, 2009
WHEN MONEYSENSE, an independent online publication, published in April last year the “best places to live in the Philippines,” Baguio City, despite its summer capital fame, was not in the top 10. It ranked 16th.
The publication listed Bacolod City as the best place to live in the country, followed by Makati, Davao, Marikina, Iloilo, Las Piñas, Pasig, San Fernando (La Union), Mandaluyong and Quezon City.
MoneySense based its ranking mainly on the Philippine Cities Competitiveness Ranking Project (PCCRP) of the Asian Institute of Management. The ranking considered three components: standard of living, quality of life and cost of living.
Of the three components, quality of life covered, among other things, “environment” and this included “clean air and clean streets.”
A review of the solid waste management systems of Bacolod and other top-ranking cities is revealing. They all have their waste management systems in place.
Baguio residents, on the other hand, have to bear with tons of garbage, much of which have been left uncollected for several weeks now.
The crisis began to be felt in October 2007 when officials realized that the open dump in Barangay Irisan was already full and that the city had to look for long-term measures, such as building an engineered sanitary landfill.
Baguio residents would envy how wastes are managed in Bacolod. The department of public service (DPS) there collects garbage thrice daily—at noon, 7 p.m. and 2 a.m.
A resident with uncollected trash can still call the DPS office and it immediately responds in minutes.
The same is true in Marikina, one of the most frequented venues for educational trips of local governments wanting to learn about solid waste management.
Although still reeling from the heaps of wastes from September’s Tropical Storm “Ondoy,” Marikina’s garbage collection has not been disrupted.
In 2002, a government performance audit team gave Marikina flying colors for its solid waste collection system.
It said the city had “well-defined systems and procedures” in managing its wastes. This was strengthened by “employing enforcers to implement ordinances on the maintenance of physical cleanliness and sanitation, instilling discipline and compelling community participation.”
Not far from Baguio is San Fernando in La Union, which inaugurated in December 2008 a P168-million landfill after starting construction in 2005.
The World Bank, which funded the project, said the 10.7-hectare facility was a model for small landfills.
Institutionalization
Bacolod, Marikina and San Fernando all have ordinances to support Republic Act No. 9003 (Ecological Solid Waste Management Act of 2000). But they all have graduated from the information and education campaign (IEC) stage and have since buckled down to work to implement their ordinances and policies on waste management.
Their programs have become institutionalized as part of the communities’ way of life.
Every Monday and Thursday in Marikina, green-painted trucks collect biodegradable wastes, which households must properly label and tie with something green.
Every Wednesday, pink-colored trucks also collect nonbiodegradables, which households must tie with something pink. Improperly labeled wastes won’t be collected.
Biodegradable wastes are composted for fertilizer. The nonbiodegradables are taken to a materials recovery facility (MRF) for segregation. Plastics and bottles are taken to a “buy-back center.”
Policy implementation is such a serious business that the city government allocates the funds and resources to make policies work.
Marikina is also so concerned about its solid waste management efficiency that it has installed a mechanism by which residents can give feedback, complaints and requests.
For its part, San Fernando uses different and labeled waste segregation receptacles for different types of garbage.
It has well-established village-based MRFs, where wastes are segregated. One of these is in Lingsat village, which was given a national award for its efficient solid waste management in 2004.
Schools have also established solid waste management systems.
As continuing support to the villages, the city government regularly trains village officials on Waste Analysis and Characterization Survey (WACS) to help local officials determine the total weight and volume of waste disposed of daily. Data from the survey guide local officials in making and implementing policies.
The city government continues to train village officials on how to make ordinances and solid waste plans, and how to compute garbage fees, organize management teams, and monitor and evaluate projects and programs on wastes.
In contrast, Baguio Councilor Fred Bagbagen said the council had filed resolutions directing the city government to focus on developing an ecological landfill and MRFs. None of these, he said, took off.
Hope for Baguio
Amid public ire and warnings from the health department about possible diseases from uncollected garbage, Mayor Reinaldo Bautista Jr. recently ordered the collection of garbage in villages.
The garbage would be disposed of at the already full Irisan dump. From there, it will be hauled to a landfill in Capas, Tarlac, after the city council allotted P25 million for this.
Bautista said he would invoke the city’s right over the whole 7.5 hectares occupied by the dump, noting that 2.5 hectares of it were being occupied by squatters.
If reclaimed, he said the dump could still accommodate the city’s garbage, estimated at 300 tons daily, while long-term measures are being sought.
But a more strategic solution may yet lie in neighboring Sablan town, also in Benguet.
At least 11 owners have offered to sell a 228,231-square-meter (22.82-hectare) lot for Baguio’s engineered sanitary landfill. The proposed landfill can be used for 50 to 60 years.
“With proper push and determination, negotiation and all the nitty-gritty for the proposed landfill can be done in a month,” said Julius Mandapat, a civil engineer who helped build engineered sanitary landfills, dikes, parks and an airport in the United States in the 1980s.
Mandapat said solid waste management must be part of short-term and strategic urban planning.
“The challenge is how to make urban planning respond to the needs of a growing city and this needs a mix of technical expertise and political will,” he said.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
‘Pepeng’ draws out best in Igorot culture
‘Pepeng’ draws out best in Igorot culture
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: October 27, 2009
THE SHAKEN EARTH AND floodwaters from Tropical Depression “Pepeng’s” fury may have begun to settle so survivors can now rebuild or relocate homes, replow farms, and repair roads and bridges.
Rehabilitating the damaged infrastructure and property requires billions of pesos, which, officials admit, is a big challenge for a cash-strapped government. The other concern is how to fast-track it so isolated farming communities, such as those in the Cordillera, can resume transporting their chayotes, cabbages, carrots and potatoes.
But there is yet a bigger issue: How to restore hope among orphaned survivors whose dreams were snatched when their elders were buried in landslides or drowned in floodwaters?
The good news is that in all these challenges, something in the culture of northern Luzon folk has not changed. The trait of being each other’s keeper and the tradition of volunteerism have helped the people cope with the extent of Pepeng’s devastation.
Such culture has helped fill in gaps and lapses in governance.
For example, when Pepeng slowed down on Oct. 10, officials and residents of Kibungan town in Benguet came out with shovels and picks to help clear the roads of landslides and debris.
Mayor Benito Siadto says the landslides were so enormous that residents had to augment with sheer brawn the municipal government’s lone pay loader.
Community spirit
The strong sense of cooperative self-help and community spirit is also alive in other Cordillera towns.
Leaders of the towns of Bakun and Kabayan, also in Benguet, report that they used the relief supplies they received for “food-for-work” projects.
Instead of simply doling out to survivors a few kilos of rice, canned goods and instant noodles, Bakun and Kabayan officials say they gave these items as incentives to those who helped repair the roads and bridges.
Kabayan Mayor Faustino Aquisan commends the village chair of Tinongdan in Itogon town for accommodating stranded motorists from Kabayan at the height of Pepeng in their barangay hall and feeding them.
“Please tell us when you (Tinongdan folk) will celebrate your village fiesta so we can bring you cabbages, pising (gabi or yam leaves) and red rice,” Aquisan announced recently over radio station dzWT. It was his way of expressing gratitude to them.
In Sagada, Mt. Province, members of tourist guide organizations lost no time in soliciting help from town mates so they could immediately send relief supplies to survivors of mudslides in Tadian town, the Cordillera People’s Alliance reported.
In upland areas of the Cordillera, the people have resorted to the ob-obfu or binnadang (labor exchange) to repair damaged homes, rice terraces, irrigation systems and bridges.
Rebuilding hopes
But as homes, farms and other infrastructures are being rebuilt, the hopes and dreams of survivors of the last storm must also be restored.
“When the earth and waters settle down, I know for sure that those left behind will be on their own. It’s time for us to come in,” Harry Basingat, a retired Igorot professional based in California, says in a letter to members of Bibaknet, an online network of Igorots here and abroad.
Basingat and his colleagues have been discussing online how best they could help, particularly those who were orphaned after Pepeng triggered killer landslides that left more than 300 people dead, many of them in Benguet and Mt. Province.
“We finally decided to focus on the education of children orphaned by Pepeng,” says Jerome Gawidan, a Baguio City-based Bibaknet member and businessman.
Bibaknet has been setting aside funds for immediate relief supplies, such as food and clothing.
“We also want to provide something to the orphans that will last a lifetime—education,” says Basingat, the online moderator of the Bibaknet e-group.
Immediately after this decision, members started pledging money for its Bibaknet Education Scholarship Fund (BESF). Some have committed from $100 (P4,699) to P100,000, though the network can accept even a peso or a dollar.
“Any amount will be gladly accepted so I don’t see why anyone would ignore this loud call,” says Basingat. “Nothing is too small that comes from the heart. Not getting involved is just another personal option that we can choose.”
The fund began in 2005 to support the education of the orphaned children of Andy Dumawa, a Bibaknet member, who was killed in an accident on the Halsema Highway on his way home to Mt. Province.
As the e-group’s online moderator, Basingat regularly posts all names of donors and the amount pledged, including those of anonymous benefactors.
Warmth of ‘dap-ay’
BESF board member Marilou Delson Fang-asan, who is based at the Benguet State University, is coordinating with government agencies in the affected towns to identify orphaned survivors whom the group can help send to school.
The ease and spontaneity of help from the Igorot peoples for the orphaned could be traced to what Basingat calls the “warmth of the dap-ay, which is meant to be shared for those out in the cold.”
The dap-ay is the basic sociopolitical institution in Mt. Province where elders teach children about social responsibility, among other things.
Fr. Rex Reyes, National Council of Churches in the Philippines general secretary, agrees with Basingat.
Reyes, who visited Mt. Province after Pepeng left, says the Igorot could again pick up the pieces because of their strong community support system of helping each other, in good times and in bad.
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: October 27, 2009
THE SHAKEN EARTH AND floodwaters from Tropical Depression “Pepeng’s” fury may have begun to settle so survivors can now rebuild or relocate homes, replow farms, and repair roads and bridges.
Rehabilitating the damaged infrastructure and property requires billions of pesos, which, officials admit, is a big challenge for a cash-strapped government. The other concern is how to fast-track it so isolated farming communities, such as those in the Cordillera, can resume transporting their chayotes, cabbages, carrots and potatoes.
But there is yet a bigger issue: How to restore hope among orphaned survivors whose dreams were snatched when their elders were buried in landslides or drowned in floodwaters?
The good news is that in all these challenges, something in the culture of northern Luzon folk has not changed. The trait of being each other’s keeper and the tradition of volunteerism have helped the people cope with the extent of Pepeng’s devastation.
Such culture has helped fill in gaps and lapses in governance.
For example, when Pepeng slowed down on Oct. 10, officials and residents of Kibungan town in Benguet came out with shovels and picks to help clear the roads of landslides and debris.
Mayor Benito Siadto says the landslides were so enormous that residents had to augment with sheer brawn the municipal government’s lone pay loader.
Community spirit
The strong sense of cooperative self-help and community spirit is also alive in other Cordillera towns.
Leaders of the towns of Bakun and Kabayan, also in Benguet, report that they used the relief supplies they received for “food-for-work” projects.
Instead of simply doling out to survivors a few kilos of rice, canned goods and instant noodles, Bakun and Kabayan officials say they gave these items as incentives to those who helped repair the roads and bridges.
Kabayan Mayor Faustino Aquisan commends the village chair of Tinongdan in Itogon town for accommodating stranded motorists from Kabayan at the height of Pepeng in their barangay hall and feeding them.
“Please tell us when you (Tinongdan folk) will celebrate your village fiesta so we can bring you cabbages, pising (gabi or yam leaves) and red rice,” Aquisan announced recently over radio station dzWT. It was his way of expressing gratitude to them.
In Sagada, Mt. Province, members of tourist guide organizations lost no time in soliciting help from town mates so they could immediately send relief supplies to survivors of mudslides in Tadian town, the Cordillera People’s Alliance reported.
In upland areas of the Cordillera, the people have resorted to the ob-obfu or binnadang (labor exchange) to repair damaged homes, rice terraces, irrigation systems and bridges.
Rebuilding hopes
But as homes, farms and other infrastructures are being rebuilt, the hopes and dreams of survivors of the last storm must also be restored.
“When the earth and waters settle down, I know for sure that those left behind will be on their own. It’s time for us to come in,” Harry Basingat, a retired Igorot professional based in California, says in a letter to members of Bibaknet, an online network of Igorots here and abroad.
Basingat and his colleagues have been discussing online how best they could help, particularly those who were orphaned after Pepeng triggered killer landslides that left more than 300 people dead, many of them in Benguet and Mt. Province.
“We finally decided to focus on the education of children orphaned by Pepeng,” says Jerome Gawidan, a Baguio City-based Bibaknet member and businessman.
Bibaknet has been setting aside funds for immediate relief supplies, such as food and clothing.
“We also want to provide something to the orphans that will last a lifetime—education,” says Basingat, the online moderator of the Bibaknet e-group.
Immediately after this decision, members started pledging money for its Bibaknet Education Scholarship Fund (BESF). Some have committed from $100 (P4,699) to P100,000, though the network can accept even a peso or a dollar.
“Any amount will be gladly accepted so I don’t see why anyone would ignore this loud call,” says Basingat. “Nothing is too small that comes from the heart. Not getting involved is just another personal option that we can choose.”
The fund began in 2005 to support the education of the orphaned children of Andy Dumawa, a Bibaknet member, who was killed in an accident on the Halsema Highway on his way home to Mt. Province.
As the e-group’s online moderator, Basingat regularly posts all names of donors and the amount pledged, including those of anonymous benefactors.
Warmth of ‘dap-ay’
BESF board member Marilou Delson Fang-asan, who is based at the Benguet State University, is coordinating with government agencies in the affected towns to identify orphaned survivors whom the group can help send to school.
The ease and spontaneity of help from the Igorot peoples for the orphaned could be traced to what Basingat calls the “warmth of the dap-ay, which is meant to be shared for those out in the cold.”
The dap-ay is the basic sociopolitical institution in Mt. Province where elders teach children about social responsibility, among other things.
Fr. Rex Reyes, National Council of Churches in the Philippines general secretary, agrees with Basingat.
Reyes, who visited Mt. Province after Pepeng left, says the Igorot could again pick up the pieces because of their strong community support system of helping each other, in good times and in bad.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Isolated Benguet town rations rice to stave off hunger
Isolated Benguet town rations rice to stave off hunger
By Maurice Malanes
Inquirer Northern Luzon
First Posted 03:10:00 10/22/2009
Filed Under: Weather, Landslide, Disasters (general), Government Aid, Food
BAGUIO CITY—The upland town of Kibungan in Benguet province, which has been isolated since Oct. 9 because of Tropical Storm “Pepeng” (international codename: Parma), has resorted to rationing rice to stave off possible hunger as residents and officials double their time clearing landslides before Typhoon “Ramil” (Lupit) dumps heavy rains on Friday.
For the first time since the town’s isolation, officials and residents—after a six-hour grueling trip from Baguio—transported 200 cavans of rice via the Palina-Bakun-Ampusongan Road and Halsema Highway on Oct. 17 and 18.
Ironically, until the early 1980s, Kibungan (pop: 16,000) used to be self-sufficient in upland rice, which is augmented by sweet potato and other root crops.
The shorter Kibungan-Kapangan-Tublay Road, which is a four-hour drive, remains hardly accessible because of damaged bridges and road cuts, residents said.
The town government, which bought the rice supply, will ration (25 kilos per family) and retail the staple, said Loyda Macario of the Kibungan social welfare and development office.
“We hope this rice supply can tide us over even shortly after Typhoon Ramil,” Macario said in a text message. “We also hope other supplies will arrive for our various sari-sari (variety) stores.”
Macario said residents, with equipment provided by the Department of Public Works and Highways, were rushing the clearing of landslides in the towns of Kapangan and Tublay.
Through cooperative self-help, Kibungan residents cleared landslides from Barangay Poblacion up to Barangay Sagpat in the town’s border with Kapangan and along the road to Barangay Palina.
“But we are worried Ramil’s rains may again delay road repair works,” Macario said.
She said that for the first time airlifted relief goods arrived in Kibungan on Oct. 19 after Mayor Benito Siadto appealed for outside help.
Until now, residents continue to grope in the dark as evening comes because of power outage, Macario said, adding that municipal officials could charge their mobile phones through a generator at the municipal clinic.
Residents from Kibungan and Kapangan are hoping concerned agencies help them restore the vital Salacop Bridge in Balacbac, Kapangan, which tilted to its side during the last typhoon.
By Maurice Malanes
Inquirer Northern Luzon
First Posted 03:10:00 10/22/2009
Filed Under: Weather, Landslide, Disasters (general), Government Aid, Food
BAGUIO CITY—The upland town of Kibungan in Benguet province, which has been isolated since Oct. 9 because of Tropical Storm “Pepeng” (international codename: Parma), has resorted to rationing rice to stave off possible hunger as residents and officials double their time clearing landslides before Typhoon “Ramil” (Lupit) dumps heavy rains on Friday.
For the first time since the town’s isolation, officials and residents—after a six-hour grueling trip from Baguio—transported 200 cavans of rice via the Palina-Bakun-Ampusongan Road and Halsema Highway on Oct. 17 and 18.
Ironically, until the early 1980s, Kibungan (pop: 16,000) used to be self-sufficient in upland rice, which is augmented by sweet potato and other root crops.
The shorter Kibungan-Kapangan-Tublay Road, which is a four-hour drive, remains hardly accessible because of damaged bridges and road cuts, residents said.
The town government, which bought the rice supply, will ration (25 kilos per family) and retail the staple, said Loyda Macario of the Kibungan social welfare and development office.
“We hope this rice supply can tide us over even shortly after Typhoon Ramil,” Macario said in a text message. “We also hope other supplies will arrive for our various sari-sari (variety) stores.”
Macario said residents, with equipment provided by the Department of Public Works and Highways, were rushing the clearing of landslides in the towns of Kapangan and Tublay.
Through cooperative self-help, Kibungan residents cleared landslides from Barangay Poblacion up to Barangay Sagpat in the town’s border with Kapangan and along the road to Barangay Palina.
“But we are worried Ramil’s rains may again delay road repair works,” Macario said.
She said that for the first time airlifted relief goods arrived in Kibungan on Oct. 19 after Mayor Benito Siadto appealed for outside help.
Until now, residents continue to grope in the dark as evening comes because of power outage, Macario said, adding that municipal officials could charge their mobile phones through a generator at the municipal clinic.
Residents from Kibungan and Kapangan are hoping concerned agencies help them restore the vital Salacop Bridge in Balacbac, Kapangan, which tilted to its side during the last typhoon.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Little Kibungan takes comfort in faith
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Little Kibungan takes comfort in faith
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 22:27:00 10/20/2009
Filed Under: Belief (Faith), Religions
MARSING MALANES LOST a daughter, a son-in-law and four grandchildren, who tried to run to safe ground but instead met an avalanche of raging mud that fateful night of Oct. 8 when Tropical Depression “Pepeng” dumped heavy rain on the province.
Despite the tragedy, Malanes’ faith in God stays stronger than the wrath of Pepeng, whose nonstop downpour triggered a mudslide that swept away houses along a creek in Barangay Puguis’ Little Kibungan in Benguet’s capital town of La Trinidad.
A three-story concrete house was also brought down some 200 meters into the La Trinidad Valley.
“How could my children and grandchildren survive such a powerful mudslide?” asks Malanes, 58.
Although still mourning, she takes comfort “in the Lord’s promise that my children and grandchildren are now in His bosom and are now helping keep watch over us who survived this tragedy.”
“This promise is what continues to lighten our load and burden,” says Malanes, a member of the Church of Nazarene in Puguis. “Now, my children and grandchildren are at peace with the Lord. They are actually now in a better position than we are, who have to experience pain and suffering in this world.”
Malanes lost her daughter Minda, 38, Minda’s husband, Santiago Valdez Jr., 39; and their four children—Ruthi Fe, 14; Von Timothy, 10; James Francis, 2; and Josh Mark, 1.
They were among the 76 people who were killed by the landslide in Little Kibungan.
Swallowed by mud
The Valdez home remains intact, but accounts from neighbors and from Ruthi Fe’s text message before they were swallowed by mud indicated that they met their fate while on flight.
At past 10 p.m. on Oct. 8, Ruthi Fe was able to tell her aunt, Mercedes Cadley, in a text message that her father roused them from sleep so they would evacuate to their grandmother’s house on upper ground in Little Kibungan.
Neighbors say the Valdezes might have thought that the mudslide was coming from above their house instead of the other way because the village was pitch-dark as a result of a power outage, thick clouds and heavy rains.
The family would have survived the avalanche had they not gone down a road along the creek.
Mission and purpose
Despite all, Malanes thinks that “with God, everything must have a purpose.”
Minda and her family’s death “all the more strengthened our faith in God and helped us look deeply into what is more important in life,” says Malanes.
This faith is shared by the woman’s eldest son, Fernando, 40, and his wife, Edwina, 41, who also had a close brush with death that night. “God must have a mission and purpose for us that we have yet to fulfill,” says Fernando.
On Oct. 7, Edwina said she had an “uneasy, bad feeling” so she urged her husband that they leave an extension room near their kitchen in the basement, and be with their three children on the second floor.
That premonition saved them; the mudslide wiped out their room. Amid the heavy downpour, the rescuers arrived and guided them to the house of Benguet Gov. Nestor Fongwan, southeast of Little Kibungan.
Moving on
Malanes, her son Fernando and family, two unmarried children and two grandchildren left to her care are now occupying a space in the house of a friend in the valley.
The widowed grandmother looks forward to meeting with local officials this week for a possible relocation site where they can rebuild their houses and lives. She seeks to find a place where her grandchildren need not fear the rains and storms.
One of her grandchildren, Clever, 14, the youngest of Fernando and Edwina, remains traumatized, she says. He wouldn’t even want to go back to Little Kibungan and retrieve his things.
“Just get my school ID and school uniform. You don’t have to get my other clothes because I have already received some clothes from relief supplies,” Clever told his grandmother and mother.
Fernando continues to earn for his family’s upkeep as a construction worker.
While looking for a job, Edwina, a preschool teacher, earns extra as a hired hand in La Trinidad’s strawberry and vegetable farms.
If they strive to move on, credit that to “our faith,” says Malanes.
“Laton, ilab-lab-ak tako (It’s OK. We shall overcome),” she says.
Determination
That same faith and determination strengthen the Kankanaey people of Kibungan town, 60 kilometers north of La Trinidad, where Malanes and family hail from.
Kibungan has been isolated since Oct. 9 because of road cuts and landslides that block major roads.
But the hardy Kankanaey, led by Mayor Benito Siadto, renewed their cooperative self-help tradition and volunteerism and have been clearing the roads with shovels and picks.
But so they won’t starve, they have appealed for immediate food aid and heavy equipment to repair eroded and washed-out roads, including a key bridge in the village of Balacbac in Kapangan town.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
A mix of ecology, culture, business
Inquirer Headlines / Regions
http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/inquirerheadlines/regions/view/20090916-225361/A-mix-of-ecology-culture-business
INQUIRER NORTHERN LUZON
Inquirer Northern Luzon : A mix of ecology, culture, business
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: September 16, 2009
TUBLAY, Benguet—Like a 100-year-old man, Baguio City, which just celebrated its centenary, must be sought for its wisdom in urban development.
But the traffic, land zoning, squatting woes, garbage and central business district congestion are getting harder to manage than ever. The city born out of a colonial American-initiated mining boom in neighboring Benguet towns at the turn of the century is no longer seen as a model for urban development.
So couple Wilson and Narda Capuyan made a wise move when they embarked on a business enterprise, which is away and different from the usual sights and smell of an already congested place.
Just more than a 30-minute drive from Baguio is the Capuyans’ Winaca Eco-Cultural Village, a 31-hectare forested enclave in Tublay town in Benguet, which mixes ecology, healthy dining, Cordillera culture, adventure and pure, clean fun.
They acquired a five-hectare property in 1984, which was foreclosed by a bank, until they eventually bought the adjoining lots, which remain forested until now.
Here, birds chirp, cicadas and crickets sing, a nearby spring and brook murmur, and trees and bamboos sway with the wind.
Terraced and flat areas are devoted to organic gardens, which teem with lettuce, carrots, broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage and herbs, such as coriander, parsley, mint and wheat grass.
Interspersed with some of the trees are fruit-bearing ones, such as lemons and oranges.
These gardens and orchards supply the ingredients of organic recipes served fresh at a restaurant within the eco-cultural village.
Products from the gardens are also sold at the couple’s other business outlets, such as Narda’s Trading Center in Baguio. The center also has a restaurant, which sources its vegetables from the eco-cultural village.
Elderly visitors may just want to relax and chat over cups of Arabica coffee or glasses of wheat grass or carrot juice after a meal at the village’s café and restaurant.
But the Capuyans made sure the young would enjoy some adventure at the hiking trail, hanging bridge and cove.
Both young and old guests can also be treated to, if not participate in, cultural shows at a natural amphitheater.
Guests can learn to sing or chant Cordillera tunes and dance to the beat and rhythm of drums and gongs.
The village has a place for those who want to stargaze before they retire at their tents, which they can install at a camping ground.
Or they can share poems, puzzles, prayers and promises with an Igorot elder around an evening bonfire at a dap-ay (a circular meeting venue where people can sit on stones) in the yard of a Sagada hut.
In December last year, Wilson transported to the village the grass-thatched hut, where he was born 62 years ago in Sagada town in Mt. Province. He and his workers reconstructed the dap-ay, where, as a boy, he listened to stories and advice from elders.
He bought other native huts from Benguet, Ifugao and Kalinga. He seeks to complete a representation of the traditional houses from each of the Cordillera provinces, including Abra and Apayao.
“Winaca” means “bound by vine” (its root word, waca or waka, is the Kankanaey term for vine). Winaca also binds the first syllables of the Capuyans’ first names and surname.
But there’s more to Winaca, which, an elder says, represents the business and development philosophy of the Capuyans.
“The Winaca philosophy of human living stresses on developing human resources, building environment-friendly communities and establishing a seat of clan culture to which the young can trace their roots,” says Ventura Bilot, an elder and cultural consultant of the Capuyans.
He describes the Capuyans as coming from humble roots and who developed a “down-to-earth discipline.”
“As true disciples of Kabunian (Igorot term for God) spirituality, Wilson and Narda are responsible trustees to the land,” says Bilot.
Wilson, an engineer, is guided by what Bilot calls the “Winaca formula” of development.
The eco-cultural village is also a real estate business so portions of the area are up for sale for those who wish to build their homes or rest houses within the forested enclave.
But there are conditions and terms for those seeking to build their homes here. One is that Winaca management takes care of the construction so it ensures that “green architecture and engineering” are followed, says Wilson.
This means avoiding cutting trees and moving earth when building a house. A lot must be at least 750 square meters and a house must be built only on a small portion. The bigger portion must be allotted to trees and other vegetation, says Wilson.
Houses cannot also be built in portions with steep slopes. These are instead reserved as part of the enclave’s forest area.
As part of his “green architecture,” Wilson incorporates indigenous materials, such as rono reeds for ceiling and as accents for walls and cabinets and other furniture.
Narda, a native of Besao town, also in Mt. Province, seeks to continue promoting Igorot weaving and other crafts by employing weavers right in the village.
This initiative continues the success story of Narda’s Handwoven Arts and Crafts, which started in 1970 in La Trinidad, Benguet. From weaving blankets from recycled acrylic yarns, Narda moved on to weaving items for home furnishing, fashion and accessories.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
Before Facebook, Benguet had ‘man-ayag'
Before Facebook, Benguet had ‘man-ayag’
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: September 02, 2009
KIBUNGAN, BENGUET, Philippines—Each summer until the 1970s in Benguet, a man on errand called the man-ayag would go to another village or town, if not another province, to invite relatives to attend a festive and religious ceremony called the sida.
He had to carefully watch his way, always looking for signs that could mean success or failure in his mission.
If he would see a flock of birds of various species (locally called the kekesyag and the kalimbabanga) led by a brown, dark gray bird called the lapit or the labeg flying ahead as though leading him, this was considered a good sign. It meant that he would be able to return to his village with a big group of relatives to partake of the sida.
But if the birds crossed his path as if blocking him, he must rethink his task and return to his village to discuss with elders when to resume his journey.
Elders viewed these signs as precautions or warnings for both the man-ayag and the people he would invite. For them, the signs should be auspicious to ensure a smooth and safe trip.
The sida was usually hosted by a family, which prospered in livestock raising and upland farming. As a religious rite, it was a way by which family members would thank the gods and the spirits of their ancestors, who were believed to have given them their bounty.
The sida would also be done when a family member gets sick. The family had to hold the elaborate event to appease the gods and spirits.
Animals, usually pigs and cattle, were offered during the festivity. Tapey (rice wine) flowed as people danced the tayaw and the sadong to the beat and rhythm of gongs and the solibao, an indigenous drum made up of an elongated hollow wood and cow hide cover.
The sida also served a social function, as people discovered relatives while tracing common ancestors.
Defining wealth
The festive rite indicated social status. The more feasts people hosted, the more they were looked up to as the community’s rich.
But they gained respect not because of their accumulated wealth but how much they had given to and shared with relatives and the community.
They lived as simple as their neighbors—they did not have mansions but grass-thatched, single-room huts like those of the other families. The only difference was that their abode would be adorned by the skulls of pigs, which were offered as sacrifices to the gods and spirits, and reminders of how much of their possessions they had shared.
The sida tradition, also called the pedit, is very rarely practiced now because people just can no longer afford it. It is withering away with the introduction of Christianity and the attraction of modern education.
Replacing the sida is the clan reunion, during which members contribute to buy food and gather in a clan leader’s house, on the grounds of a rented school, or inside an auditorium to trace roots and socialize.
Instead of the man-ayag of old, clans now have designated leaders who use mobile phones and AM radio stations to invite members to attend the reunions, which are usually held during summer or Christmas holidays.
They have yet to use Facebook and other Internet social networks because not all clan members have online access.
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer
Posted date: September 02, 2009
KIBUNGAN, BENGUET, Philippines—Each summer until the 1970s in Benguet, a man on errand called the man-ayag would go to another village or town, if not another province, to invite relatives to attend a festive and religious ceremony called the sida.
He had to carefully watch his way, always looking for signs that could mean success or failure in his mission.
If he would see a flock of birds of various species (locally called the kekesyag and the kalimbabanga) led by a brown, dark gray bird called the lapit or the labeg flying ahead as though leading him, this was considered a good sign. It meant that he would be able to return to his village with a big group of relatives to partake of the sida.
But if the birds crossed his path as if blocking him, he must rethink his task and return to his village to discuss with elders when to resume his journey.
Elders viewed these signs as precautions or warnings for both the man-ayag and the people he would invite. For them, the signs should be auspicious to ensure a smooth and safe trip.
The sida was usually hosted by a family, which prospered in livestock raising and upland farming. As a religious rite, it was a way by which family members would thank the gods and the spirits of their ancestors, who were believed to have given them their bounty.
The sida would also be done when a family member gets sick. The family had to hold the elaborate event to appease the gods and spirits.
Animals, usually pigs and cattle, were offered during the festivity. Tapey (rice wine) flowed as people danced the tayaw and the sadong to the beat and rhythm of gongs and the solibao, an indigenous drum made up of an elongated hollow wood and cow hide cover.
The sida also served a social function, as people discovered relatives while tracing common ancestors.
Defining wealth
The festive rite indicated social status. The more feasts people hosted, the more they were looked up to as the community’s rich.
But they gained respect not because of their accumulated wealth but how much they had given to and shared with relatives and the community.
They lived as simple as their neighbors—they did not have mansions but grass-thatched, single-room huts like those of the other families. The only difference was that their abode would be adorned by the skulls of pigs, which were offered as sacrifices to the gods and spirits, and reminders of how much of their possessions they had shared.
The sida tradition, also called the pedit, is very rarely practiced now because people just can no longer afford it. It is withering away with the introduction of Christianity and the attraction of modern education.
Replacing the sida is the clan reunion, during which members contribute to buy food and gather in a clan leader’s house, on the grounds of a rented school, or inside an auditorium to trace roots and socialize.
Instead of the man-ayag of old, clans now have designated leaders who use mobile phones and AM radio stations to invite members to attend the reunions, which are usually held during summer or Christmas holidays.
They have yet to use Facebook and other Internet social networks because not all clan members have online access.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Growing fuel for rural dev’t
Growing fuel for rural dev’t
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer Inquirer Northern Luzon
Posted date: August 19, 2009
LA TRINIDAD, Benguet, Philippines—When environmental scientist Michael Bengwayan and his staff succeeded where government scientists had failed in propagating an upland petroleum-rich tree, he had in mind forsaken rural communities.
“Rural communities must learn to propagate this indigenous tree, extract its fuel and use it to spur their own development,” he says.
Bengwayan, executive director of the Pine Tree, a nongovernment ecological education, training, research and information center in La Trinidad, Benguet, was referring to the “petroleum nut” or resin cheesewood (Pittosporum resinferum).
The plant, which is native to the Cordillera and other upland areas in the Philippines and a few other countries such as China, has an octane rating of 54, compared to jatropha’s 41 to 43. Fossil fuel has an octane rating of 91.
Octane rating is a measure of the ability of a liquid motor fuel, such as gasoline, to prevent pre-ignition or knocking. Fuels with higher octane rating are less likely to cause knocking.
Fuel for countryside
Bengwayan and his technicians discovered how to extract oil from the petroleum nut fruit, which, they said, could be used for cooking, lighting and running simple machines and gadgets, such as water pumps and grinders.
For cooking, petroleum nut oil is not only more efficient and cheaper than firewood or charcoal. Three to five trees can yield about 15 liters of oil per harvest, and since harvest is twice a year, these amount to 30 liters, which a family can use for cooking for three to four months, says Bengwayan.
Fifteen to 20 trees can already supply a family’s year-round cooking fuel needs.
Three parts of petroleum nut oil, however, have to be blended with one part of kerosene if used for cooking.
Once it becomes popularized as cooking fuel, petroleum nut oil can free upland people from cutting trees for firewood or charcoal. This can help save and enable critical forests and watersheds to regenerate, Bengwayan says.
For lighting, two parts of petroleum nut oil can be mixed with one part of kerosene to fuel a Petromax lamp. But petroleum nut oil need not be blended with anything if used for a simple oil lamp.
As water pump fuel, petroleum nut oil can enable upland residents to draw water from lower elevations for irrigation or household use.
The possibilities that petroleum nut oil can do to propel rural industries are endless, says Bengwayan. Upland folk can use the tree oil for blacksmithing, food processing, milling grains, threshing rice and grinding reeds, grasses and weeds for compost, among other things.
With its higher octane, petroleum nut oil can also be tapped as alternative fuel for vehicles.
But Bengwayan is keen on propagating the plant for simple industries in neglected rural communities than promoting it as alternative fuel for vehicles, which only a few rural residents can afford.
This, he says, is in consonance with his organization’s mission of fighting poverty and environmental decay through scientific research and innovations.
Community control
But rural communities must secure and take control over this highly priced tree, which, Bengwayan says, is a rare species also under threat from biopirates.
For this to happen, they must learn the basics of propagating and planting the tree through seed-banking, extracting the oil and finally documenting these, he says.
“Documenting the tree’s traditional and new uses is the communities’ means of protection against outsiders who may attempt to patent its properties and uses,” he says.
Under patent rules, applicants can only seek patents for those that are new. So outsiders cannot patent uses or properties which communities have already discovered and documented.
Bengwayan says the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) can help communities protect their endemic resources through documentation before “biopirates” come in.
The Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act and Article 8(j) of the United Nations Convention of Biological Diversity protect traditional knowledge against those who seek to steal the resources of indigenous communities and its accompanying traditional uses.
As a rare species, petroleum nut is best propagated through seeds.
The Forest Research Institute of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources has succeeded in propagating petroleum nut through cutting, using tissue culture.
But Bengwayan discourages this because taking the branches of the few remaining petroleum nut trees in the forests for tissue-culture will all the more lead to their extinction.
He says the best way is to propagate the oil tree through seeds and bring back the seedlings to the forests.
Propagating the seeds, however, is challenging and it requires patience. Bengwayan and his technicians almost gave up in their experiment of propagating oil tree through seeds in 2005.
But just as when they almost lost their patience, the petroleum nut seeds they sowed began to germinate after almost three months. “We found out the seed of this tree had a long dormancy (temporary cessation of growth or metabolism),” he says.
They lost no time in propagating petroleum nut seeds starting 2006, securing these in nurseries.
They have since propagated more than 30,000 seedlings, which they have scheduled to give to some 23 farmers in the upland towns of Kibungan and Kapangan in Benguet. These will be planted during the rainy season.
By Maurice Malanes
Philippine Daily Inquirer Inquirer Northern Luzon
Posted date: August 19, 2009
LA TRINIDAD, Benguet, Philippines—When environmental scientist Michael Bengwayan and his staff succeeded where government scientists had failed in propagating an upland petroleum-rich tree, he had in mind forsaken rural communities.
“Rural communities must learn to propagate this indigenous tree, extract its fuel and use it to spur their own development,” he says.
Bengwayan, executive director of the Pine Tree, a nongovernment ecological education, training, research and information center in La Trinidad, Benguet, was referring to the “petroleum nut” or resin cheesewood (Pittosporum resinferum).
The plant, which is native to the Cordillera and other upland areas in the Philippines and a few other countries such as China, has an octane rating of 54, compared to jatropha’s 41 to 43. Fossil fuel has an octane rating of 91.
Octane rating is a measure of the ability of a liquid motor fuel, such as gasoline, to prevent pre-ignition or knocking. Fuels with higher octane rating are less likely to cause knocking.
Fuel for countryside
Bengwayan and his technicians discovered how to extract oil from the petroleum nut fruit, which, they said, could be used for cooking, lighting and running simple machines and gadgets, such as water pumps and grinders.
For cooking, petroleum nut oil is not only more efficient and cheaper than firewood or charcoal. Three to five trees can yield about 15 liters of oil per harvest, and since harvest is twice a year, these amount to 30 liters, which a family can use for cooking for three to four months, says Bengwayan.
Fifteen to 20 trees can already supply a family’s year-round cooking fuel needs.
Three parts of petroleum nut oil, however, have to be blended with one part of kerosene if used for cooking.
Once it becomes popularized as cooking fuel, petroleum nut oil can free upland people from cutting trees for firewood or charcoal. This can help save and enable critical forests and watersheds to regenerate, Bengwayan says.
For lighting, two parts of petroleum nut oil can be mixed with one part of kerosene to fuel a Petromax lamp. But petroleum nut oil need not be blended with anything if used for a simple oil lamp.
As water pump fuel, petroleum nut oil can enable upland residents to draw water from lower elevations for irrigation or household use.
The possibilities that petroleum nut oil can do to propel rural industries are endless, says Bengwayan. Upland folk can use the tree oil for blacksmithing, food processing, milling grains, threshing rice and grinding reeds, grasses and weeds for compost, among other things.
With its higher octane, petroleum nut oil can also be tapped as alternative fuel for vehicles.
But Bengwayan is keen on propagating the plant for simple industries in neglected rural communities than promoting it as alternative fuel for vehicles, which only a few rural residents can afford.
This, he says, is in consonance with his organization’s mission of fighting poverty and environmental decay through scientific research and innovations.
Community control
But rural communities must secure and take control over this highly priced tree, which, Bengwayan says, is a rare species also under threat from biopirates.
For this to happen, they must learn the basics of propagating and planting the tree through seed-banking, extracting the oil and finally documenting these, he says.
“Documenting the tree’s traditional and new uses is the communities’ means of protection against outsiders who may attempt to patent its properties and uses,” he says.
Under patent rules, applicants can only seek patents for those that are new. So outsiders cannot patent uses or properties which communities have already discovered and documented.
Bengwayan says the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples (NCIP) can help communities protect their endemic resources through documentation before “biopirates” come in.
The Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act and Article 8(j) of the United Nations Convention of Biological Diversity protect traditional knowledge against those who seek to steal the resources of indigenous communities and its accompanying traditional uses.
As a rare species, petroleum nut is best propagated through seeds.
The Forest Research Institute of the Department of Environment and Natural Resources has succeeded in propagating petroleum nut through cutting, using tissue culture.
But Bengwayan discourages this because taking the branches of the few remaining petroleum nut trees in the forests for tissue-culture will all the more lead to their extinction.
He says the best way is to propagate the oil tree through seeds and bring back the seedlings to the forests.
Propagating the seeds, however, is challenging and it requires patience. Bengwayan and his technicians almost gave up in their experiment of propagating oil tree through seeds in 2005.
But just as when they almost lost their patience, the petroleum nut seeds they sowed began to germinate after almost three months. “We found out the seed of this tree had a long dormancy (temporary cessation of growth or metabolism),” he says.
They lost no time in propagating petroleum nut seeds starting 2006, securing these in nurseries.
They have since propagated more than 30,000 seedlings, which they have scheduled to give to some 23 farmers in the upland towns of Kibungan and Kapangan in Benguet. These will be planted during the rainy season.
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