Museum Volunteers Philippines

Islands Primeval—Batanes

No discomfort could detract from our surroundings—tall hills and mountains of volcanic core of indescribable shapes and crevices covered in verdant, fertile green upon which cattle, horses, and goats graze; high white waves repeatedly lashing the boulders at their base beneath a leaden multi-hued grey sky. Some of the crevices had been reinforced with concrete by Japanese soldiers for their use during World War II.

Other islands in other places lie lazy and easy, basking in the light of a favorable sun and gentle waters. The districts of Batan speak of the difficulty of making a living from its rough seas and ridged peaks, of majesty, strength, and naked power. And, as we trudged up a steep winding incline, the wind—strong, cold, intense, caused someone to remark, “In Manila we would call this a typhoon.”

With the sun came a view of clear water deep purple farther out shading to blue, turquoise, green, pale blue and totally white as each wave rose and crashed ever closer to the shore line, beautiful but intimidating. Later we learned much of the water covers dangerous undertow currents; that fishermen ply their trade only during the short summer of March through June and for the two weeks of Indian summer in October, and that swimmers are often at risk.

A fisherman may be fisherman, boat builder, and farmer, depending upon his inclination and the season. (Our guide introduced us to his mother who was, before she retired, both a nurse and Barangay captain.) One boat generally requires three trees and two months for construction. The trees are cut on a night when the moon is full, and a new tree is planted for each one felled. These are the only boats in the Philippines, we were told, without outriggers. Each boat is outfitted with a small inboard motor and can carry up to three men. Fishing is by line, basket type fish traps, and small nets. Wood items are rare, the wood generally coming from the remnants of boat building, leading one to believe the people of Batan do not carve their forests.

Handicrafts, primarily hats, baskets, and mats, are wonderfully fashioned from local reeds and grasses. There was one beautifully coiled and painted basket made from newsprint. (Remember Tricia Hoban’s talk on baskets?) We were told like baskets were for sale at the airport but alas were unable to locate any.

Life, as mentioned, is not for the faint-hearted or the indolent—it is harsh and demanding, which may well account for the hardiness the inhabitants display, as well as their sense of solidarity and community. There are no signs of affluence, but neither are there signs of dire poverty. Farmers, each owning a small plot of land, work together for planting and harvesting; there are communal grazing grounds, causing us to wonder how the animals know its home and owner. Everyone seems to know everyone. There are few motorized vehicles on the streets, and many bicycles and motorcycles rest unlocked and unattended at curbsides and beside homes without locks. There is a small police station and an even smaller jail, generally without inmates. The occasional occupant is apt to be a Taiwanese fisherman caught poaching. This is no small feat since the Taiwanese possess larger and faster boats than the islanders, and the coast guard has no boats.