No place but home
No place but home
Updated 11:39pm (Mla time) Nov 03, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the November 4, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer
BORACAY, Aklan -- "The Ati?" asked Marsel Maribojo who oversees an Internet operation in tourist-crammed D' Mall de Boracay. "They were the original inhabitants here. Are they being evicted again?"
The Ati are "negrito," like Mount Pinatubo's Aeta, then-Kalibo bishop Gabriel Reyes wrote President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo in October 2002. "They've lived in Boracay since their ancestors," Reyes stressed. "Lacking education, they don't have titles ... Help them, Ms President."
For most people, "Boracay" is sun-drenched white-sand beaches and tourist dollars. Few know -- or care -- the "originals" gave the island's name, Inquirer's Nestor P. Burgos notes. The gleaming white sand here resembled water bubbles. So, the Ati spliced "bora," or bubbles, with "bocay" meaning white.
The remaining 200 or so Ati live in huts, clustered on a hectare of coconut-shaded land, in Sitio Bolabog -- a land claimed by affluent and politically wired Representative Florencio Miraflores of Aklan province.
Aniceto Yap, a tax declaration holder, is badgering the Atis to leave, since "some occupy part of a plot he owns." Aniceto is the brother of provincial board member Jose Yap, Philippine Association for Intercultural Dialogue area coordinator Angelo Ruel-Belen wrote the Ancestral Domain Office in September 2000.
In this country, land underpins local political kingpins. In Boracay, displacement by migrants and lack of land tenure security remind one of Mindanao's tensions. The early Indian reservations in the United States and Australia's original aboriginal camps resonate here.
The Ati were Boracay's original inhabitants before the "Bisaya," or outsiders, came and took over, Inquirer Visayas recalled in February 2003. "The Ati have no concept of individual ownership of the land, believing they're mere stewards of nature's bounty." Only when they were muscled off the land, did they realize that the "Bisaya" did not share their view.
Bolabog is a 10-minute ride from the tourist strip on Boracay's "cabs," smoke-belching, two-stroke tricycles. (Soon, fume-laced air will compete with resort septic tanks as one of the island's problems.)
It might as well be on the moon. Few "outsiders" come this way. Bolabog is a world apart, sealed off decades of neglect and prejudice. Like varicose veins, prejudice tends to swell with use.
A National Mapping and Resource Information Authority team surfaced here recently to survey the whole island. That triggered anxiety attacks.
"Even well-meaning programs can disturb the Ati," explained Daughter of Charity Sister Victoria Ostan. "Powerless and derided, their self-worth is brittle. It takes little to scare them."
"Fear has many eyes," Don Quixote author Miguel de Cervantes once said. Sister Victoria and two other nuns, Lydia Malgapo and Violeta Diocena know that. So, they help a marginalized people tamp down fear.
They do so, not just by prayers, but also by teaching the Ati skills that help them enter a modern world, 10 "unbridgeable" minutes away. Three students are now in high school, one in college. Most men do menial work in resorts. Women take on laundry. Little of the P3.5 billion in tourism trickles down here.
Self-effacing Boracay residents help. Sanitary facilities have been installed. To counter malnutrition, the sisters operate a feeding program for those under 12. Mothers who lack milk to breast-feed receive formula packs.
Soon, a tutor will help Ati kids cope in public schools. Most of them need remedial classes in English, Science and Math. Many shrink from the searing experience of being mocked.
Boracay residents plan -- with the nuns and the Holy Rosary Parish Mission-to set up a continuing medical program. Kids would be dewormed, immunized, etc. "A society is only as strong as its weakest member," a benefactor explained.
But the most striking lesson the nuns offer is presence: They live among the Ati. Their "convent" is also a hut -- only it's more orderly, cleaner and with a tiny flower garden. They resemble the Good Shepherd sisters' lodging in the slums of Manila’s Malate district or Mother Teresa nuns' hospices in Cebu province, in Calbayog City in Western Samar province, and in Manila’s Tondo district.
"Don't their service remind you of the nard bottle?" a friend asked, as we sat in the "convent's" front yard. The what? "The woman who poured a bottle of precious nard on the Master's feet," he said. "Its fragrance filled the house."
Sister Victoria and companions replaced the "first wave" of sisters, invited by the Diocese of Kalibo, now headed by Bishop Jose Romeo Lazo. (Reyes has been assigned to Antipolo City in Metro Manila.) They follow up with offices, like the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples, for recognition of the Ati's ancestral domain.
The knotty question of land ownership is tied up with Presidential Decree 1801 that, in 1978, declared Boracay a tourist zone and marine reserve. Public lands could not be titled.
Some wave Spanish colonial government "titles." Others display tax declarations. Alternative sites for the Atis are bandied about. President Joseph Estrada's "para sa mahirap" [“for the poor”] speech remained hot air. "So far, nothing has happened," the diocese notes.
Eduardo Supertran was 89 years old (his children said) when he told Inquirer: "No one owned the land then. We farmed everywhere ... We were born here ... and our elders told us not to leave the place..." He was 91 when we visited.
"For many, Boracay is paradise," Inquirer Visayas noted. "But to the Ati it is still home to be reclaimed." The street-smart Marsel Maribojo, in the tourist strip, agrees.
Updated 11:39pm (Mla time) Nov 03, 2004
By Juan Mercado
Inquirer News Service
Editor's Note: Published on page A14 of the November 4, 2004 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer
BORACAY, Aklan -- "The Ati?" asked Marsel Maribojo who oversees an Internet operation in tourist-crammed D' Mall de Boracay. "They were the original inhabitants here. Are they being evicted again?"
The Ati are "negrito," like Mount Pinatubo's Aeta, then-Kalibo bishop Gabriel Reyes wrote President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo in October 2002. "They've lived in Boracay since their ancestors," Reyes stressed. "Lacking education, they don't have titles ... Help them, Ms President."
For most people, "Boracay" is sun-drenched white-sand beaches and tourist dollars. Few know -- or care -- the "originals" gave the island's name, Inquirer's Nestor P. Burgos notes. The gleaming white sand here resembled water bubbles. So, the Ati spliced "bora," or bubbles, with "bocay" meaning white.
The remaining 200 or so Ati live in huts, clustered on a hectare of coconut-shaded land, in Sitio Bolabog -- a land claimed by affluent and politically wired Representative Florencio Miraflores of Aklan province.
Aniceto Yap, a tax declaration holder, is badgering the Atis to leave, since "some occupy part of a plot he owns." Aniceto is the brother of provincial board member Jose Yap, Philippine Association for Intercultural Dialogue area coordinator Angelo Ruel-Belen wrote the Ancestral Domain Office in September 2000.
In this country, land underpins local political kingpins. In Boracay, displacement by migrants and lack of land tenure security remind one of Mindanao's tensions. The early Indian reservations in the United States and Australia's original aboriginal camps resonate here.
The Ati were Boracay's original inhabitants before the "Bisaya," or outsiders, came and took over, Inquirer Visayas recalled in February 2003. "The Ati have no concept of individual ownership of the land, believing they're mere stewards of nature's bounty." Only when they were muscled off the land, did they realize that the "Bisaya" did not share their view.
Bolabog is a 10-minute ride from the tourist strip on Boracay's "cabs," smoke-belching, two-stroke tricycles. (Soon, fume-laced air will compete with resort septic tanks as one of the island's problems.)
It might as well be on the moon. Few "outsiders" come this way. Bolabog is a world apart, sealed off decades of neglect and prejudice. Like varicose veins, prejudice tends to swell with use.
A National Mapping and Resource Information Authority team surfaced here recently to survey the whole island. That triggered anxiety attacks.
"Even well-meaning programs can disturb the Ati," explained Daughter of Charity Sister Victoria Ostan. "Powerless and derided, their self-worth is brittle. It takes little to scare them."
"Fear has many eyes," Don Quixote author Miguel de Cervantes once said. Sister Victoria and two other nuns, Lydia Malgapo and Violeta Diocena know that. So, they help a marginalized people tamp down fear.
They do so, not just by prayers, but also by teaching the Ati skills that help them enter a modern world, 10 "unbridgeable" minutes away. Three students are now in high school, one in college. Most men do menial work in resorts. Women take on laundry. Little of the P3.5 billion in tourism trickles down here.
Self-effacing Boracay residents help. Sanitary facilities have been installed. To counter malnutrition, the sisters operate a feeding program for those under 12. Mothers who lack milk to breast-feed receive formula packs.
Soon, a tutor will help Ati kids cope in public schools. Most of them need remedial classes in English, Science and Math. Many shrink from the searing experience of being mocked.
Boracay residents plan -- with the nuns and the Holy Rosary Parish Mission-to set up a continuing medical program. Kids would be dewormed, immunized, etc. "A society is only as strong as its weakest member," a benefactor explained.
But the most striking lesson the nuns offer is presence: They live among the Ati. Their "convent" is also a hut -- only it's more orderly, cleaner and with a tiny flower garden. They resemble the Good Shepherd sisters' lodging in the slums of Manila’s Malate district or Mother Teresa nuns' hospices in Cebu province, in Calbayog City in Western Samar province, and in Manila’s Tondo district.
"Don't their service remind you of the nard bottle?" a friend asked, as we sat in the "convent's" front yard. The what? "The woman who poured a bottle of precious nard on the Master's feet," he said. "Its fragrance filled the house."
Sister Victoria and companions replaced the "first wave" of sisters, invited by the Diocese of Kalibo, now headed by Bishop Jose Romeo Lazo. (Reyes has been assigned to Antipolo City in Metro Manila.) They follow up with offices, like the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples, for recognition of the Ati's ancestral domain.
The knotty question of land ownership is tied up with Presidential Decree 1801 that, in 1978, declared Boracay a tourist zone and marine reserve. Public lands could not be titled.
Some wave Spanish colonial government "titles." Others display tax declarations. Alternative sites for the Atis are bandied about. President Joseph Estrada's "para sa mahirap" [“for the poor”] speech remained hot air. "So far, nothing has happened," the diocese notes.
Eduardo Supertran was 89 years old (his children said) when he told Inquirer: "No one owned the land then. We farmed everywhere ... We were born here ... and our elders told us not to leave the place..." He was 91 when we visited.
"For many, Boracay is paradise," Inquirer Visayas noted. "But to the Ati it is still home to be reclaimed." The street-smart Marsel Maribojo, in the tourist strip, agrees.
posted by Dante at 1:10 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home