I long to get back to a place I’ve come to love. I miss the place. I miss the people.The weather was fine although gray clouds were  looming over the horizon. The road was worse than it used to be. “No wonder people don’t come this way,” said one of my travel companions. I smiled and said to myself, “Exactly the place I wanted to be.” On our way up the mountain, the landscape would  transform from rice fields into forested ravines then to pine covered hills. That unmistakable mountain scent was in the air.I was deep in my thoughts. The memories of our last visit were frozen in my mind like a fond memory of a child at play.
    
The morning was so peaceful, cold, and inspiring yet anxiety was present, deep in my gut. Much had happened since the last two years we’d visited this land of theBugkalots (declared as millennium tribe by GMA, for what reason I don’t know) in themountainous region of Nueva Vizcaya.A few months back, a malaria outbreak had claimed the lives of 16 people and for weeks the area was declared under a state of calamity. After the outbreak, came reports of tribesmen exchanging narra logs for guns. Being a warrior is deeply imbedded in Bugkalot culture and is evident in theirLong history of violence. There were reports of headhunting practices during the late 70’s. The practice was long gone now since the Bugkalot community learned to embrace Christian values. I can attest to how deeply religious these people are. Then there was a distressing report from the Inquirer news team about endangered animals caught by Bugkalot hunters, such as Wild boars and deer, being rampantly sold along the highway. Most of the meat hanging by the road, fresh and bloodied, as it turned out, were not the real wild boar meat as what the sellers claim, but that of a native pig. To the untrained eye and guillible buyers, they won’t trace the difference.
   
Two days before our scheduled trip, I had read disturbing news that violence nearly erupted between the DENR personnel and the Bugkalots when the former tried to confiscate narra lumbers as evidence against violation of “the right to harvest limited volumes of forest products as covered by the certificate of ancestral domain claim program.”I am starting to believe that our trip was more like a fool’s errand. “We do not have enough. How can we earn for our family?” one tribe member told me later in one of our conversations. Lack of job opportunities has forced many Bugkalots to engage in illegal logging in the watershed area ofCasecnan. Most of them were lured by   the demand of businessmen involved in selling lumber in the lowlands to support their families. How can the government protect its forest and watershed and not protect the interest of people? Can the Bugkalots live harmoniously with their environment the way their ancestors did, before the onslaught of modernization? These and morewere the questions that popped up in my mind on our way to our destination.After almost 12 hours on the road we finally arrived in that miniature Shangri-la that is Brgy. Lipuga. But the rain that would soon become a storm caught up with us. We found comfort in our chosen sanctuary, an elementary school, which, ironically, was nearly destroyed by a landslide.

As if sensing our torpor, a bunch of Bugkalot urchins trooped to the school to give us entertainment. The boys danced the traditional Bugkalot warrior dance with matching fake wooden swords and their faces filled with dignified conviction. The girls, on the other hand, sangand danced the “Spaghetting Pababa.” They are too young to realize the conflict around them, too young to grasp the effect of their old culture being influenced by the new. Soon after, they guided us to the nearby waterfall that echoed from a distance. These children, with the hope and promise of education, can become the future leaders of their community, and safeguard their diminishing culture and resources.
    
My visit only strengthened my faith with the Bugkalot people. It made me see things in a different perspective. It made me realize one thing I already know: that like us, they also need to survive. Are we to judge them based on isolated cases of misdeeds and unfounded reports which do notrepresent the whole community?We plan to get back. Not to play savior or redeemer to these people but to find ways to help them cope with their worsening predicament. The only way we know how, eco-tourism. The beauty of the Bugkalot ancestral domain is comparable to Baguio minus the houses and pollution. There are plenty of natural wonders in store for adventurers: waterfalls, mountaintops, caves, pristine rivers, and the warm hospitality of the people. Tourism may not be much, but done properly, it could bring livelihood to the Bugkalot and fund the preservation of their priceless resources.

Like the river wild that runs through the Bugkalot land like veins that supports life, hope springs eternal.

(written by Noel Galang)

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