I hope more Igorots will be able to read it because it is a thoroughly enjoyable read. I felt like I was part of the journey. I laughed at the humorous parts, felt bad at the tough parts, and kept turning the page to see what happens next.

It was funny that when I was nearing the end of the book, I decided to read it very slowly because I didn’t want the book to end. I eventually finished reading it but look forward to reading it again. Soon.

One of the things that makes the book so special is the fact that it was easy to visualize. By telling your own story, I think you were also telling the stories of other Igorots. I’m sure a lot of us can easily identify with the seemingly endless mountain hikes, the sunflower leaves used as poultice, the discrimination by non-Igorots, life in the mines, the practice of communicating with ancestors, and the other things you wrote about in the book.

It’s hard to describe what I felt while I was reading your book but it was a very positive feeling. It was very much like what I felt when I first listened to Lourdes Gomeyac Fangki/Elmer Hull’s first album, or the first time I heard Ben Moga doing a report about Mt. Province on DZWT, or the first time I saw Marky Cielo on TV being proud of his Igorotness. What you all did is to put us on the map. And this makes me feel proud that a fellow Igorot has achieved something that we can all be proud of.

***
Meanwhile, here are the reactions (written in the book’s outside back cover) of other people who read An Igorot’s Journey. I must say that I agree with all of them.

Congressman Mauricio Domogan (Baguio City): As one who was born and raised in the area Rosita Pinkerton writes about, and having experienced similar difficulties in life, I am deeply touched by her story. Truly a vivid picture of life, discipline, and culture in the mountain provinces.

Dr. Caridad Fiar-od (Mt. Province State Polytechnic College): An Igorot’s Journey takes readers on an exciting journey while giving a very clear account of the Igorot’s survival skills, values, protocols, beliefs, and practices.

Lillian Cunningham (Windward Community College): The narrator is generous and empathetic as she learns how to live in unfamiliar worlds, and the tales she tells linger like memory in the reader’s mind.

NOTE: I can lend the book to Manila-based people. Email me or express your desire to borrow it in the comments. But promise to return it or else I will tell the whole world to not lend you a book ever. Hehe. Non-Manila based people, particularly those living in the First World, should buy copies of the book and give it as a gift to themselves or to others It is a good gift for this coming Christmas season (which, as is often the case, already started in Manila).

RELATED POST: Interview with Rosita Pinkerton.

Timidly (yes we can be quite timid) and praying that she will say “Yes”, we wrote the author to ask whether it would be okay if we interview her about her book.

Thankfully, Rosita answered our request with a “Yes”and so we sent her some questions. She graciously answered said questions and we are publishing the interview below.

What encouraged you to write An Igorot’s Journey?
To learn more about my roots, country, village, tribe, and myself.

For people who have not yet read the book, can you give us an idea (or a brief summary) of what the book is about?
The book is about my life growing up as a little girl in a remote Igorot village, the jungle, in different gold mining communities and eventually about my adjustment to life in Manila before eventually moving to the United States.

What sacrifices, if any, did you make in order to write your book?
Writing the book became my complete focus, so I had to set aside other projects and activities.

What challenges did you encounter while writing the book? How did you solve them?
Sometimes I got stuck on some of my memories that were not so clear, but important, so I had to do research by asking my elders about it or others who might have that knowledge. I sometimes had writer’s block and sometimes felt like giving up, but my dream and desire kept lifting me up to finish the book.

What was it like revisiting the past and putting them in paper and ink?
I had mixed emotions when writing the book: it was amazing to think back and rediscover where I came from.

What was it like when you finally got your first copy of the book?
I was stunned and it was a good feeling that I had accomplished my dream. At the same time, I felt like I had lost control of the book and that now it has a life of its own, to do what it does and go where it goes.

I read a positive review of your book in Grace’s blog, what’s the feedback so far among other people, particularly kailiyans, who read it?
The people who have read my book have all been very supportive and some have thanked me for writing it and sharing my experience with the world.

What tips and/or advice would you give to other Igorots who would like to follow your footsteps, i.e., write and publish their own stories?
When writing your own story, feel free. Be honest and true as you can , and don’t be afraid to write everything you remember. Then, when you’re editing the book, you can decide what to take out.

What is the best way of buying your book? Through the internet? Do you have outlets/distribution centers?
Right now the best way to purchase the book is through Amazon, Barnes & Noble and other online bookstores. I also have copies of the book if people in the Philippines would like to contact me at rose@igorot-journey.com Eventually, I hope I can find a distributor in the Philippines.

If you were to write the book all over again, what would you do differently?
I would write more about nature in the villages and about how much of what I knew as a child is being lost and could become extinct.

What would you consider to be the most satisfying experience as you were going through this process of writing the book and getting it published?
The most satisfying experience for me was just the process of trying to clearly remember the past, to see how I could learn from it and also I felt good that I felt free to write it all down.

Are there persons you would like to thank for helping you because you had to write?
Yes, I have thanked those people on page 8 of my book in the “Acknowledgements” section.
[Added by Bill from the book: I would like to thank my family and friends forl all their help through the years. Thank you to everyone in the Windward Community College Writing Retreat for your ongoing goodwill and encouragement. I'd especially like to thank Carla Nunez who was able to read and type my handwritten manuscript and Shezarrah Keane who was the first to read my book in its entirety. I am very grateful to Ann Miller and Terri Knight who helped me so much with their proofreading and advice. And, to you, my love, Charlie, for all your help from the first page to the last.]

Do you have any favorite authors?
I think my idea is a little different about who would be my favorite author. Really, it is my elders–my father and mother and my grandparents–who have told me wonderful stories, but they just weren’t written down. Maybe my book helps a little to preserve some of those stories.

Where are you from in the Cordilleras?
I grew up in Dandanac Besao, Mountain Province

Where are you based now and what are you doing?
I am currently based in Oahu, Hawaii and write now I am working on collecting stories my father has been telling me and trying to maybe write them as a collection of his stories from an even earlier time.

***
In a succeeding post, we will share with you our short review of the book as well as the feedback of others who read it.

INFO SOURCE/PHOTO CREDIT: Rosita Pinkerton.

Here’s an interesting story on how Santa Marcela, Apayao got its name. This story is taken from the town’s website (stamarcela.gov.ph). Sta. Marcela is reportedly the youngest and the smallest municipality of Apayao Province.

HOW STA. MARCELA GOT ITS NAME: Long time ago, an old woman lived in the heavily forested hilly eastern side of the municipality of Luna, Mt. Province, now Luna, Apayao Province, along the boundary between Luna and Allacapan, Cagayan. She was considered mysterious as no one among the inhabitants of the place knew where she came from. Hunters were surprised to find her one day living in a hut beneath a giant tree. Since then, she subsequently made acquaintances and established good relationships among the populace of her surroundings.

The lady’s name was Marcela. Except for her first name, no other information was known about her identity. She was polite and approachable but becomes aloof whenever people tried to know more about her personal circumstances. She was never married. She was outstandingly beautiful and gifted with an excellent wisdom which instantly earned her the respect of the tribes nearby who consulted her on problems that they could not solve themselves. These tribal chieftains were never disappointed and they always went home satisfied.

A story about her wisdom which survived the changing modes of passing generation runs this way: “One day, two cattle rustling suspects were presented to Marcela by the chieftain of the Ilocano tribe. Investigations showed that pools of blood possibly from the lost carabao of a man named Elias were found near the house of a man named Anton (1st suspect ) while the head and hind legs of the lost carabao were found behind the house of Ensiong (2nd suspect ).

“Despite efforts made in convincing these suspects to plead guilty, Anton and Ensiong stood firm that they were innocent. Marcela gave them candles, told them to go home and have the candles remain lighted the whole night. She told them to come back the following morning and bring with them the candles. The one whose candle would not last till morning shall be the rustler and the other shall be pronounced innocent.

“Anton and Ensiong returned the following morning. Anton presented his remaining candle (about three inches long) and said that God spared the innocent. Ensiong was sad and nervous having not a bit left of his candle but he also claimed to be innocent. Marcela ruled that the candles she gave the two could not have lasted till morning unless the light was put off and re-lighted at dawn. Only thieves play the game of deception and therefore Anton was pronounced guilty. Verdict was proven right when Anton confessed and prayed for forgiveness.”

Marcela was said to have lived in that place for seventy five summers. But one beautiful summer day, hunters saw her disappear. She was much cherished by the people and rare were the occasions where her name and deeds were not mentioned.

Time passed and when the place was separated to become a barrio it was named Marcela. In 1967, when this municipality was created the founders likewise named it Sta. Marcela in honor of the legendary woman that the town’s inhabitants loved so much.

Isn’t it refreshing to have a Cordillera town named by its own people and not by a Spaniard/American traveler who, if folk stories are true, names a place after an encounter with a local who misunderstood his question.

Typically, the story goes like this: A foreigner asks the local the name of the place. The local thought that the foreigner was asking him about the object s/he was holding and so s/he names the object. Then the foreigner writes down the answer thinking that his question was answered. It’s a very undignified way of getting a name ha ha. So if gold medals are awarded for the most interesting manner a town is named, we should give the medal to Sta. Marcela.

INFO AND PHOTO SOURCE: Sta Marcela Website. RELATED POSTS: Bakun, Benguet; Balbalasang, Kalinga; Laylaya, Besao, Mt. Province.

Its been sometime since we posted a Cordillera folktale. This being the new year, its about the right time to post a new one. This tale is about a flock of birds who help a man gather his harvest. Eat your heart out J.K. Rowling, your owls in the magical world of Harry Potter can only carry mail while the tikgis in the highlands of Abra can harvest rice and make them grow faster too.

You can read more magical (?) Tingguian stories from the Project Gutenberg website which has a collection of such stories compiled in 1916 by Mabel (Cole) Cook.

“Tikgi, tikgi, tikgi, we will come to work for you. Let us cut your rice.”

Ligi had gone to the field to look at his growing rice, but when he heard this sound he looked up and was surprised to see some birds circling above and calling to him. “Why, you cannot cut rice,” said Ligi. “You are birds and know only how to fly.” But the birds insisted that they knew how to cut rice; so finally he told them to come again when the grain was ripe, and they flew away.

No sooner had the birds gone than Ligi was filled with a great desire to see them again. As he went home he wished over and over that his rice were ready to cut. As soon as Ligi left the field the tikgi birds began using magic so that the rice grew rapidly, and five days later when he returned he found the birds there ready to cut the ripened grain. Ligi showed them where to begin cutting, and then he left them.

When he was out of sight, the tikgi said to the rice cutters: “Rice cutters, you cut the rice alone.” And to the bands which were lying nearby they said: “Bands, you tie into bundles the rice which the cutters cut.” And the rice cutters and the bands worked alone, doing as they were told.

When Ligi went again to the field in the afternoon, the tikgi said: “Come, Ligi, and see what we have done, for we want to go home now.” Ligi was amazed, for he saw five hundred bundles of rice cut. And he said: “Oh, Tikgi, take all the rice you wish in payment, for I am very grateful to you.”

THE BUNDLES OF RICE THAT THE TIKGI BIRDS
HARVESTED MUST HAVE LOOKED LIKE THIS.

Then the tikgi each took one head of rice, saying it was all they could carry, and they flew away. The next morning when Ligi reached the field, he found the birds already there and he said: “Now, Tikgi, cut the rice as fast as you can, for when it is finished I will make a ceremony for the spirits, and you must come.”

“Yes,” replied the tikgi, “and now we shall begin the work, but you do not need to stay here.”

So Ligi went home and built a rice granary to hold his grain, and when he returned to the field the rice was all cut. Then the tikgi said: “We have cut all your rice, Ligi, so give us our pay, and when you go home the rice will all be in your granary.”

Ligi wondered at this, and when he reached home and saw that his granary was full of rice, he doubted if the tikgi could be real birds.

Not long after this Ligi invited all his relatives from the different towns to help him make the ceremony for the spirits. As soon as the people arrived, the tikgi came also; and they flew over the people’s heads and made them drink basi until they were drunk. Then they said to Ligi: “We are going home now; it is not good for us to stay here, for we cannot sit among the people.”

When they started home Ligi followed them until they came to the bana-asi tree, and here he saw them take off their feathers and put them in the rice granary. Then suddenly they became one beautiful maiden.”

Are you not the tikgi who came to cut my rice?” asked Ligi. “You look to me like a beautiful maiden.”"Yes,” she replied; “I became tikgi and cut rice for you, for otherwise you would not have found me.” Ligi took her back to his house where the people were making the ceremony, and as soon as they saw her they began chewing the magic betel-nuts to find who she might be.

The quid of Ebang and her husband and that of the tikgi went together, so they knew that she was their daughter who had disappeared from their house one day long ago while they were in the fields. In answer to their many questions, she told them that she had been in the bana-asi tree, where Kabunian had carried her, until the day that she changed herself into the tikgi birds and went to the field of Ligi.

Ligi was very fond of the beautiful girl and he asked her parents if he might marry her. They were very willing and decided on a price he should pay. After the wedding all the people remained at his house, feasting and dancing for three months.

RELATED POSTS: Isneg Folktales, More Isneg Folktales, Chacha and Kedyem (A Bontoc Folktale)

Did someone other than the forces of nature create these awesome lightnings? Yes, according to Isneg traditional belief. Read on.

Sal-it ken addug (Lightning and Thunder) Once upon a time there was a man who held the world in his hands. Once in a while, he would roll a cigar, then strike together his flint and steel, or iron and stone to produce a spark for his cigar. This spark is the bright, zigzagging streak of fire seen in the sky. When this fire alights on the people, it eats their brains, and when it alights on trees, it eats the weevils. Now the thunder, it is said, is the water that roars in the sky. It is actually found in the lowest part of the sky, among those huge knobbed stones known as clouds. When it rains, the water in the sky increases, and the big stones begin to roll. And that is the loud noise we hear.

The next story is more about normal folks like us rather than supernatural ones.

Once there was a man who had a cow. One evening, he untied the cow and brought her to graze on the kappay grass. The place was far from his house. Early the next morning, he went to see his cow, only to find her dead. On closer look, he saw a dead and squashed fly on the body of his cow. He reported the matter to the judge who ruled that henceforth flies could be killed anytime, anywhere. One day, the man went for a walk, passing by the house of the judge, who happened to be sitting on a bench in front of his house. On the forehead of the judge was a fly. He was mad at the sight of that fly, because it reminded him of his dead cow. Whereupon he looked around for a piece of kindling wood, and finding one, jumped in front of the judge and clubbed the fly. The fly died but the judge’s head was severely injured. An investigation was made but because the judge had said no person could be imprisoned if he/she killed a fly, the man was not imprisoned.

These tales were brought to you courtesy of Arlene Sapanza from this site. Photos courtesy of ozone.com and kepplah.com

In the olden days, folktales were passed on from parents to kids — like this mother (grandma?) and her baby (grandkid?) — while they gathered around the fireplace. Nowadays, kids are always out “doing Internet research” so lets make their web surfing productive by sharing with them the folktales of our people. Nothing beats actual (oral) story telling but what can we do! Photo courtesy of Trix Rosen.

Yo! Young Igorot kid, here’s the chance for you to learn an Igorot folktale. You should thank Carmencita Cawed for including this tale in her book, The Culture of the Bontoc Igorot, and thus preserving it for young Igorots like you. Anyway, imagine that you are back home in the Cordillera mountains (if you are somewhere else) and imagine that you are listening to this story before the days of electricity and you have an old man (that’s me) telling the story while you carefully blow at the glowing coal in the fireplace to keep the fire from dying.

Chacha’ and Ked-yem: This is the story of the two men who set the law and strength of the al-lawig, keeping one’s word in the pechen. The enemy tribe who comes to make a pact with another tribe is protected by it, that whatever they eat or drink or smoke with the tribe with whom they have the pechen would fear no death. Long, long ago, there were two gods by the name of Chacha’ and Ked-yem. One was a warrior and the other a blacksmith. They were very good neighbors.

One day, Chacha’ asked his wife the whereabouts of his two sons. His wife answered that she saw them go up the place of Ked-yem, the blacksmith. Taking a torch, the father went to the house of Ked-yem and asked for his sons. The blacksmith without looking up from his work just answered they were in his house, only that he had cut off their heads as they came everyday to destroy his work. He pointed to the tap-an where he placed the bodies and to the kapan where he placed the heads.

Chacha’ quietly took the heads and connected them with the bodies and both sons lived again. Then before leaving he told his friend the blacksmith that on the following day they will fight this matter out in the mountain. So the following day, Chacha’ and Ked-yem met with their weapons and started fighting. In their strength they pulled out all the trees and plants around them in the forest till nothing was left to hurl at each other. When night came, not one was vanquished.

So Chacha’ said that the fight would continue the following morning in the river. And so the two giants fought it out in the river turning and using all the stones, yet not one of them was hurt or fell. When night came and it was time to go home, the warrior suggested to the blacksmith that they be friends again and have the pechen.

When they looked back where they had fought, they found that kawa (spider) had fenced the river and so they went home. Then Chacha’ said to Ked-yem, “From now on when I eat my rice you shall eat of it and feel safe and when I smoke my pipe, you shall smoke of it and have no fear that it will bring you ill health.” And so, they inchur-is (bequeathed) the pacts of the gods to the earthlings on earth.