Rough Groove

Banaue sojourn: Batad Incident

The part of the Batad rice terraces where I crossed and broke a taboo.

If I’ve stuck to my original schedule of going on a Friday, I would not have come into problems. Saturday and I was doing the liesurely trek to Batad via the small village of Naggor and at the same time taking in the wonderful scenerey before me, the trail that’ve been written by Lonely Planet as marvelous, which I wholeheartedly agree. After more than two hours of walking, I came across an old lady and she was saying something. Unfortunately, I couldn’t understand a thing. She was gesticulating but not a single action nor a single word that came from her mouth was readable. All I was able to do was just to shyly smile, tell her that I don’t understand and proceeded my way. As I advanced through the trail, I came into a portion of rice terraces carved out from the mountainside. While it looked liked I have lost my way, the confusing trail just seem to lead to nowhere and a short cemented path bridging two portions of terraces just don’t connect until I found that the series of jutting stones neatly descending were the steps I was looking for. I continued my trek, crossing to the other side of the mountain until a man’s voice called from above. Looking up, he was frantically waving at me to come. Just as I was to arrive at the spot he was standing on that the tall frame of a foreigner with a backpack, from the distance, tried to cross the terraces.

“You crossed the terraces!” The man, in a raised voice, admonished me. I was flabbergasted. He continued to rant that they had a ritual, a canao the day before. That it was there holiday for the entire Batad rice terraces and no one was allowed to cross or step on the terraces. That the elders would not be pleased and I might be penalized. PENALIZED. I was more than dumbfounded and shocked. And he continued to lecture me that I might be made to pay for the expenses they paid for the canao to the tune of ten thousand pesos! What? There and then, while still digesting and trying to understand the words that he was saying, I realized that I might be in deeper shit than I expected. By this time, the foreigner with blond hair, quite tall, wearing eyeglasses arrived. When told about the infraction, he too was shocked. We followed the man to the group of houses and then I realzed that I was already in Batad. The wonderful sight of the terraces down below made me forget for a moment the trouble we were in.

At the Hillside Inn, the lady barangay captain explained to us the problem. Unfortunately for us, the elders of the village decided two days ago that that Saturday, from 0500H - 1800H, no one was to set foot on the terraces as they just performed a ritual the day before. This involved a group of men who went to the forest to find a particular plant and use its toxic properties as a natural pesticide. To make it effective for 4 - 5 years, they have to perform this rite, slaughtering and offering 10 chickens, rice wine and rice to the gods. Our transgression just rendered the effectivity of the plant’s pesticidal effects useless and has to be performed again, else, they will have a bad crop season. And in order to do it again, we will be the one to provide the resources. It was made clear to us that no one is spared this penalty and is imposed even on Batad residents who fail to observe it or, as I was told, including an Israeli tourist a few years back. We also need to wait for nightfall to talk to the elders as they were in the village below, and were unable to come as they can’t also cross. We reasoned that nobody told us about the taboo. Not at the Banaue tourist information center where I went first to check on the area. Not in the Family Inn nor at the waiting shed at the start of the trail in Bangaan. Not even in Naggor where I passed by a few people and nothing was said about the prohibition. But it was just hopeless. Because of this, together with the Frenchman, Pierre-Henri, the lanky 22 year old volunteer at the BFAD in Dagupan, we decided to stay for the night there.

To kill time, we ate at the restaurant, trying their Yemeni fried, flat bred malawach, went about the area sans crossing the terraces, taking photos at a promontory, talking with some locals regarding the place, our predicament.

Batad elders deciding our fate.

Night time came and we just waited. By about 2000H, two elders from the village below came accompanied by the barangay officials. While they don’t speak Filipino or English, the barangay officials interceded for us. We explained, we reasoned out but the elders just gave no option but to repeat the ritual. With no choice, I asked how much will it cost us, a quick accounting was done:

Ritual shopping list

I was quite relieved when I saw that the cost was just P3,700.00 instead of the earlier quoted P10,000.00. If the elders sacrificed a pig, it would have jacked up the expenses. Whew! And I’ll still divide it with Henri. Damage to me:P1,850.00. While I didn’t have enough cash at hand, we agreed that I’ll go to Solano, accompanied by one of the villagers. With everything settled, we called it a night.