Ibaloi Conversations INTRO.pmd

78
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
I
Ibaloi
Conversations
ON IDENTITY, COMMUNITY
A N D WELL-BEING
Published by
with support from

II
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Copyright © TEBTEBBA 2010
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form
or by any means without the written permission
of the publisher.
Published by:
Tebtebba Foundation
No. 1 Roman Ayson Road
2600 Baguio City, Philippines
Tel. 63 74 4447703 Tel/Fax: 63 74 4439459
Email: tebtebba@tebtebba.org
Website: www.tebtebba.org
Authors: Sofia Olga Anton, Rose Camilo Calatan, Jill Cariño,
Gina Binayan-Kiswa, Vicky Macay & Roger Sinot
Copy Editors: Judy Cariño and Raymond de Chavez
Cover Design, Lay-out and Production: Paul Michael Q. Nera and
Raymond de Chavez
Gangsa illustration: Digitally manipulated from http://
kulintang.sulit.com.ph
Cover: “Ngilin” (The Wedding). Painting by Sofia Olga Anton.
Printed in the Philippines
by Valley Printing Specialist
Baguio City, Philippines
ISBN: 978-971-0186-04-4

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
III
Ibaloi
Conversations
ON IDENTITY, COMMUNITY
A N D WELL-BEING

IV
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
V
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Introduction ............................................................ vii
CHAPTER ONE
Stories of the Ibalois in Baguio City .................... 1
Stories of the Ibalois in Loakan ......................... 2
by Vicky Macay
Story of the Ibalois of Camp 7 ........................... 7
by Jill Cariño
Bakakeng Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow .... 12
by Gina Binayan Kisawa and
Rose Camilo Calatan
Story of Guisad Valley and its Neighbors ......... 21
Roger Sinot
Irisan Story ......................................................... 23
Jill Cariño
CHAPTER TWO
Family Matters and Recollections ........................ 29
by Sofia Olga Anton
Muyot ................................................................. 31
Casumei and Ating (Ingosan) ........................... 33
Gold Panning ..................................................... 39
Ghosts ................................................................. 41
Pongo .................................................................. 44
Snakes ................................................................. 46
Shalshal .............................................................. 51

VI
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
CHAPTER THREE
Problems and Hopes of the Baguio
Ibalois Today .......................................................... 55
by Jill Cariño
Land and Housing ............................................. 56
Political Division of Large Ibaloi
Communities and Lack of
Representation in Baguio Politics ..................... 62
Loss of Traditional Livelihoods,
Language, Changing Cultural Traditions ....... 65
Initiatives of the Baguio Ibalois Today ............ 71
About the Authors ................................................ 77

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
VII
Introduction
JILL CARIÑO
It all started as basic Ibaloi language lessons for us fourth
and fifth generation Ibalois who had never learned the
language. It then turned into formal interviews for a
research on the history and indicators of the well being of
the Ibalois of Baguio, and ended up as story telling,
reminiscing about the old times in Baguio with new friends
among Ibaloi old-timers of Baguio.
In the process of our conversations and meetings with
near and distant relatives and fellow Ibalois, we learned
so much, discovering nuggets of traditional knowledge, and
learning the ways and values of the Ibaloi. We also
encountered initiatives all over the place to document,
preserve and revive Ibaloi culture. It seems that the cause
of bringing the Ibalois of Baguio forward, back from the
margins and into the center, and making them visible in
the city life of Baguio is a common one. Just as is the struggle
for the recognition of Ibaloi ancestral land rights a common
one. And just as is the search for unity among the remaining
Ibalois of Baguio, in order to find their rightful place at the
center of what was once their ancestral domain.
It would be ambitious to write down all the stories we
heard as a scholarly research on the history and culture of
the Ibalois in Baguio and where they are now. Constraints
in terms of time and resources limit the scope of this
research. However, we would like to do justice to our
informants by telling their stories as they were told to us,

VIII
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
recalling their childhood memories, pranks and all, reliving
their struggles for the recognition of land rights, and
expressing their longings and wishes for the Ibaloi.
We thought it would be a good start to document our
conversations. Thus, we now have this collection of stories
that present the situation of the Ibalois in different
communities of Baguio, then and now. These Ibaloi
conversations and stories serve as our contribution, just
one among many initiatives, in the effort to recognize and
dignify the Ibalois of Baguio and to let their voices be heard.
WHO ARE THE IBALOIS OF BAGUIO?
We went around to the homes of key Ibaloi families of
Baguio, seeking them out in the communities where the
old families had originally settled long before the coming
of the colonizers. We found them in Loakan, Camp 7,
Bakakeng, Balacbac, Pinsao, Guisad and Irisan, where the
remaining Ibaloi families are concentrated today.
In Loakan, they bear the names of Dangeg, Batil,
Chakchakan, Oraja, Caroy, Topja, Chiday, Desot,
Carantes, Tagle, among others.
In Camp 7, you have the clans of Carino, Bilad, Palispis,
Macay, Antonio, Chalmas, Binay-an, Amistad, Cohoy,
Dalisdis.
In Bakakeng are the families of Baday, Kitma, Camilo,
Catalan, Binay-an, descendants of Pura, Kavingkot and
Madiano.
In Irisan are the families of Luna, Smith, Bugnay,
Alvarez, Maganes, Oseo, Binay-an, Dusnong, Cupero,
Gabol, Saguid, Menecio, Tacloy, Balaoan, Ingosan, Calatan,
Tacay, Cutay, Gayduin, Salda, Mang-os.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
IX
Many of these Ibaloi families are relatives several times
over, near and far, by blood and by affinity, since it was
the practice way back then for parents to arrange marriages
of their children with other Ibaloi clans. Thus, we were
able to trace our relations with many of our informants as
far back as our grandparents, great-grandparents and
great-great-grandparents who were siblings, cousins, aunts,
uncles or in-laws. We were often told that the Ibalois of
Baguio and Benguet can trace their roots back to a common
ancestor, Amkidit, and that we Ibalois are all related to
each other.
Today, many Baguio Ibalois have already intermarried
with people from other Cordillera peoples, while many
others have married lowlanders from Pangasinan, Ilocos,
Manila, etc. My impression is that it is now uncommon in
Baguio to find a young couple who are both of Ibaloi
descent.
We also learned that children of mixed marriages
between Ibaloi and non-Ibaloi are often taught to speak
the language of the non-Ibaloi spouse. Thus, for instance,
children of Ibaloi and Kankanaey couples speak Kankanaey
or Ilocano or Tagalog or even English, but not Ibaloi. Those
whom we met, who still speak Ibaloi today, are now in
their 50s and above, while their children no longer speak
the language.
We ourselves were never taught to speak Ibaloi by our
Ibaloi-Ilocano father and Cebuano mother, and English is
our first language. Which is why we recently had to hold
Ibaloi language lessons, as a way of getting closer and being
true to our chosen identity as Ibalois. Despite our mixed
Ibaloi-Ilocano-Cebuano heritage, we were born and grew
up in Baguio and feel a sense of belonging and identity
with the land of our birth. The sentiment is shared by many
of our Ibaloi informants who continue to take pride in being
descendants of the original families of Baguio.

X
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
1
CHAPTER ONE
STORIES OF THE IBALOIS IN
BAGUIO CITY

2
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Stories of the Ibalois in Loakan
VICKY MACAY
(Original text written in Ibaloi, as a step to give
respect to and revitalize the Ibaloi language in
Baguio City)
Loakan, circa 1900-1910.
From the collection of Jack Cariño.
Sheya Doakan say toon sigud shiyay Ivadoy. Say eteg to
Ngalngal (Camp 7), Dagsian, Happy Hallow (Des-ok), Atok
Trail. Showa e barangay ni Doakan, Liwanag Barangay tan
Loakan Proper. Say nan ngaranan to hono ni Doakan, eshahel
kano nontan e edit jen Doakan. Et enggato niman guara fay
laeng met eyay jen edet she landing (airport). Kaenkayang iyay
jen edet, edongogan e naygawa to, tan kaen eged. Kenbunga ni
emputi.
Say tood sha Doakan jen sigud Ivadoy. Et say shaha
pengekuwan ni esel Ivadoy/Inivadoy.
Nontan say inon-an ko soni mahin anak son sigami guaray
baeng she balbale, ta say too nontan manmanoy man obded
opinsina. Say guaguashen sha ja obda bodoy. Isunga pateg soni
Ivadoy ngoy buday. Egmebeden jen enshe e baeng. Say baeng
eshahel met laeng esek jen pangshan, dokto, katimoro (kahoy),

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
3
ava, balat, dangka, abocado tan eshom mai-asek. Afel ngoy uma
tan payew, nontan shaha ikuan e mauwang kitijo. No mauwang
kami shema Boken, Salat (Zigsag) shema Pidawan (PMA now)
tan shi Bonagnag (Atok Trail), kami ha ememel-at ni olay ni
Balat, dokto, mais, no tempu ni ani kamiha memel-at ngo ni
page. Say mausal ngo no kuwanshay mauwang kaybang, sigutoy
guaguashen maujon nontan. Nontan no endaw kamid uma
guara ni olay egshe nen nanang men pakkong, pakpakgongan
to no kami ha man-ekad.
Eshahel baha ra fay nontan, et say budusan, sama shontog
jen senekop ni Camp John Hay tan sama shontog jen enda
mowan ni PMA. Anggen pay keshel bulos era nontan, no en
anak era ket shema shontog. No man me isaho et emay-ekad.
No enanak e kaong nontan ket guaray kinse, sampulo.
Nem neman da ngay ayshe met day budusan ni baha isunga
manmano ngo lay manbeka tan memastol. Pati pemekan ni
keshel ayshe la ta ekuan ni enasgang mo e man-ogob.
Nontan say Ivadoy sheya Doakan no guaray en-esek ni sahi
eraha man-iinahan, anggen pay maosal shi avong no ayshi asin
to ono asukal.
Menemnem ko no man saja era af-afo nontan eraha
maulnong shi pupuan et eraha manshangshangshang, shiya
pupuan sigatoy kaypoone ni keyew et belsegan. No mesenop
eran emenangshang era ngo ha mais-istorya. Makdot ngo ered
sha Doakan enggato neman. No mangdot era ni tayao eraha
memalti ni nuwang, baha tan keshel nu kesho e guaray ekuan
ni amed e mengsho ni kavajo era met laeng ka memalti.
Nontan ket say karakdan jen bali ni ivadoy sheya Doakan
ket esem et tabda e shatal to. Et guaray doongan to et shema
doongan, bajoan, ekay pegori ni baha no puwek, guaray keshel
pay. Et shi avong guaray shapolan sigatoy dutoan, et shima
shapulan guaray safatan ni pagi. Shiyay jen safatan emay ehet
ngo sota kay beteni ni ginoday. Egmankodang e mekan nontan
ta masdo eray afafo, tatang tan nanang jen mangobda ni baday.
Songa say boday sigatoy kawad-an ni biag.

4
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Insas ko la sorinja afafo tan nannanang tan tattatang jen
mamapteng e shaha pan-aadivay. Nontan no guaray mangdot
no manbabadiw era mamapteng jen may tetetneng. Mamapteng
e shaha pan-aadivay. Nem ngantoy amo eray too da nontan
jen egsha piyan jen egshean ni aanak e solibao, galsa, tihitik
songa manmano maha amten mangagshe eren daminta. Shaha
ekuan e engkalat. Apateg son ni afafo irajay ja osal isunga
aliguan basta pajengjengat.
DOAKAN, NOW BETTER KNOWN AS LOAKAN
Translated from Ibaloi by Sofia Olga Anton
The original people of Loakan are Ibalois. The boundaries
are Ngalngal (Camp 7), Dagsian, Happy Hallow (Des-
ok), and Atok Trail. There are two barangays in Loakan:
Loakan Proper and Liwanag.
Loakan has been so named because of the abundance
of grass called doakan. To this day, this grass still grows by
the airport landing. Said grass grows tall, has a hollow
stalk, and bears white flowers.
In the old days, the houses of our people in Loakan
were surrounded by big frontyards, backyards, sideyards,
called ba-eng. These were planted with a variety of crops
and fruit trees, bananas, camote, cassava, jackfruit, avocado
and many more. You see, there were then very few of us
Ibalois who did white collar jobs. We lived off the land;
hence, it is very dear to us. Aside from the ba-eng, there
were the clearings, the ricefields and paddies, located
farther from the houses on the hillsides and mountain
slopes.
Our mothers and elders would enjoin us to go work in
those fields and clearings. We would go to Boken (Zigzag),
to Pidawan (now PMA), or to Bonagnag (Atok Trail). We
would come back home with our baskets laden with
bananas, camote, corn, taro, etc. And if it were the season

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
5
for rice harvest, we would be carrying rice in our basket.
We also used to carry our pakkong, (a bamboo musical
instrument) which we played as we walked on the trails
to and from the clearings.
Cattle was plenty then. The cows and the carabaos used
to graze on the mountain slopes near Camp John Hay and
the mountainsides going up to PMA. Even the swine were
out in the open. And when a sow produced a litter of 10 or
15, we would go and get them. We put them in sacks and
we carried them home. But now, we don’t have the
pasturelands for the cattle. We don’t have the space for
pigs and even if we do, our neighbors would complain of
the stink from pigpens.
Then, the Ibalois here in Loakan were very generous.
They shared whatever they could with one another: be it
the produce from their baeng, or jokes or riddles as they
were warming themselves.
The people of Loakan have adhered to many of our old
customs and practices. On occasion and as need be, they
perform the kedot or cañao, a ceremonial rite, accompanied
by feasting. When the kedot calls for tayao, or ceremonial
dancing, more animals are offered and butchered for the
festivities: pigs, cows, carabaos, and even a horse.
Then, most of the houses were made of galvanized iron.
The wooden floors were raised high so as to leave a sort of
open basement (do-ongan). Tools and implements were kept
here. The swine could even sleep here and sometimes,
especially on stormy nights, the cow was tied to the post.
There was also a smaller house/hut called avong. This
served as a kitchen. There was the sha’polan, the cooking
place. Above this would be the safatan, a little granary
where the rice is stored to dry. Here also may be kept the
strips of meat called kinoday, hanging out to dry. There
was no want of food. They were very industrious. They
tilled their land, which in turn, nurtured and sustained
them.

6
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
I saw how our elders, our parents and grandparents
and relatives would gather together, happily socializing.
This was especially so during kedot festivities. I don’t know
why though in the old days the elders didn’t allow the
youngsters to play the solibao or the gangsa or the tihitik.
They used to say that it would bite. Their words and
admonitions were solemnly heeded so it was that the
drums and gongs were not sounded on a mere whim.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
7
Story of the Ibalois of Camp 7
JILL CARIÑO
Camp 7, circa 1900-1910.
From the collection of Jack Cariño.
Vetrino Macay, born Feb. 22, 1941, started his story of
Camp 7 by noticing the besheng, a ricebird, chirping
by his window. We were at his home in Youngland, a place
named so by Joseph Carantes because it was here where
the young ones before used to gather to play their guitars,
drums and combos. Vetrino is now retired after having
worked at the Department of Interior and Local
Government (DILG) for many years. Our conversations
with Vetrino, his wife Christina, and with other Camp 7
residents Melicia Chalmas, Angeline Damaso Binay-an,
then Barangay Captain Marvin Binay-an, Norma Cahoy
and Rosemarie Dalisdis produced many stories about the
history, lives and hopes of the Ibalois of Baguio.

8
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
The besheng is now rare, unlike before when Camp 7
was still made up of wide rice fields, forests, pasture land,
rivers and gardens. Not as fortunate is the paideng, a big
carp-like fresh-water fish, which they used to catch during
the 1950s in the strong river flowing near Vetrino’s home
in Camp 7. The paideng can no longer be found today.
The river is now just a stream and the paideng disappeared
after mosquito fish were released into the river upstream
in Loakan and ate up all the paideng eggs.
Vetrino’s memories of Camp 7 reveal that significant
changes have happened in the last 60 to 70 years or so.
Camp 7 used to be a part of Loakan, which was an original
Ibaloi settlement with vast farm and pasture lands. People
used to walk far distances (mauwang) from Loakan to Camp
7, Atok Trail, Greenwater (Duvas) and other places to work
in their swidden farms or uma. Walking back home from
the uma, they carried back camote, vegetables, other crops
and firewood. Around the house, they raised native
chickens and pigs that were allowed to roam free and were
fed with camote leaves and tubers.
He remembers when he was a child and his
grandmother, Bilad and her husband, Ducio Macay, held
a cañao in Camp 7. They caught a big pig and some
chickens, which they killed to feed all the people of the
community. The pig was so fat, it had a layer of fat two
inches thick.
But the usual food at home was rice and camote (dukto),
native gabi (ava) and other vegetables from the uma. When
they could catch them, they ate paideng, bayek, frogs and
binga (snails) from the river, which have now all
disappeared. At the start of the rainy season, usually after
a lightning storm, they would gather mushrooms (kato), as
a special treat, under the pine needles at Kavuonan, near
Voice of America.
Camp 7 and Loakan was where the stones that built
the old Baguio Stone Market came from. It was the work
of the men in the family, from father to son, to gather stones

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
9
from the river, break them up by heating them with fire
then pouring water over them to make them crack, carry
the stones with baskets and load them onto the truck of
Mr. Caguioa who bought the stones at P3.00 per truckload.
Other livelihoods of the people then, aside from farming
and selling stones, were raising and selling cattle and
gathering cow dung to sell to farmers as fertilizer at 10
centavos per basket for their gardens. Some rice fields were
also converted to vegetable gardens and produced potatoes
and other temperate vegetables.
The developments brought in by the Spanish and
American colonizers steadily changed their lives. The
Spaniards treated them as slaves, peon or bagaen,
prompting the Ibaloi to revolt against them. Vetrino’s great-
grandfather, Mateo Carantes, joined the revolutionary
Katipuneros and the name given to him by the Katipunan
was Bahag. Bahag later fled to Kabayan to escape pursuit
by the Spaniards.
The American colonizers treated the Ibalois more fairly
and paid for the food or animals they took. But they took
over their lands, which all belonged to the Ibalois to begin
with, to build the city, which they planned as a rest and
recreation sanctuary for American forces. They declared
vast areas of Ibaloi land as government and military
reservations, including parts of Loakan, without paying
for them.
When Vetrino was born, his grandparents were already
living in Camp 7, after transferring there from Arupong in
Loakan, which had been taken over by the Americans to
construct the airport and the Philippine Military Academy
(PMA). Before the airport, the Americans had set up the
Demonstration Mines below the PMA area across the
airport towards Ongasan. The Demonstration Mines
drained the natural water springs causing the ricefields in
Loakan to dry up. Then the Americans converted the
ricefields into the airport, which displaced several Ibaloi
families who had to transfer to Camp 7. Other places in

10
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Loakan were drained of their water sources when Camp
John Hay was developed on the land that the Americans
took over from Mateo Carino and Bayosa Ortega.
The Americans enforced a foreign system of land
ownership that required the people to apply for titles over
their lands. Vetrino’s grandmother, Bilad, complied with
the requirements of titling and was able to obtain Original
Certificate of Title (OCT) No. 1 over her land in Ngalngal
(part of Camp 7) in 1906, the first ever titled property in
Baguio City. OCT No. 2 was issued in 1916 to Mateo
Carantes, Vetrino’s great-grandfather. However, the titling
of lands opened wide the door for the sale of the land. It
facilitated and hastened the influx of outsiders into the city.
Loakan, including Camp 7, was one of the original 48
Igorot claims surveyed in 1945 and recognized by the
Commonwealth government.
The Japanese are remembered for their short but cruel
and brutal occupation of the city. The people feared the
Japanese because they punished and killed those whom
they suspected as guerillas. Vetrino’s father, Telangan, was
a victim of the abusive Japanese who suspected him of
selling ammunitions to the guerillas. Japanese soldiers came
looking for him, hit him, arrested him and brought him to
the City Hall. Because of his experience during the war,
Telangan later joined the Philippine Army.
Today, the Ibalois of Camp 7, as in many other parts of
the city, have already sold much of their land. With the
loss of most of their traditional livelihoods, the sale of land
emerged as a recourse for survival. The sale of Ibaloi lands
became a trend in the city, borne out of necessity and as an
adaptation to new systems, developments and needs.
Proceeds from the sale of the land were used to live on, get
an education, build homes or start a business, and pay for
other basic services and necessities in the highly-urbanized
setting of Baguio.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
11
When asked if land rights is a problem for them today,
they mentioned the takeover of their land by illegal
squatters and the sale of their land by others who do not
even have any papers to show, as among the problems
they face.
They also said that perfecting their legal papers over
the lands they own is very important to them as a defense
against continuing attempts by outsiders to grab their lands.

12
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Bakakeng Yesterday, Today
and Tomorrow1
GINA BINAYAN KISWA and ROSE CAMILO CALATAN
Sto. Tomas Mountain, circa 1900-1910. From the collection of Jack Cariño.
Just as any place has its history, so too has Bakakeng its
own story to tell. This dates back to the 18th century when
Bakakeng was inhabited by some Ibaloi and a few
Kankanaey families. Bakakeng then comprised these areas:
1. Shalshal (Bakakeng Road, Justice Village, Pucay
Village, Kitma Village and Pirasas Compound). This
area was prone to landslides, hence was named
Shalshal, an Ibaloi term that means easily eroded;
1 This section was written by Gina Binayan Kiswa and Rose Camilo
Calatan as part of a research on local histories conducted and submitted
in August 2000 and is included here with their permission. Their
informants include Binning Akia, Julita Kitma, Luisa Manis, Lucia
Ingosan and Lucy de Guzman.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
13
2. Balengavang (Amparo Heights, Ciudad Grande,
Mary Heights and Lexber Subdivision);
3. Sarok (Puroks 6, 7 and 8);
4. Bengaw (has retained its name);
5. Des-ang (Crystal Cave areas);
6. Tihing (Chapis Village and a portion of Sto. Rosario
Valley);
7. Dalshi (SLU-SVP Housing Project and Rich View
Square Subdivision);
8. Muting (Teachers Village).
With the creation of the different barangays in 1972,
Bakakeng was subdivided into puroks; thus came into being
Bakakeng Central, Bakakeng Norte and Bakakeng Sur.
Being endowed with grassy plains and hills, the Ibaloi
found the place ideal for cattle raising. Large portions of
Bakakeng became pasturelands. Out of creativity, cattle
owners made potholes, which served as water troughs for
their cattle. Bakakeng derived its name from two Ibaloi
terms, “baha”—cow and “bebkeng”—to make potholes using
sod or turf (sod—short grass and the surface layer of earth
bound together by its roots).
Bakakeng used to have pine-covered hills, springs, fertile
soil and life-giving streams. It was a land that once yielded
food for everyone. Time was when Ibalois had great respect
for the streams, the trees and the land as a whole, aside
from the sky and heavenly bodies. With such attitude, they
developed a closer, more intimate relationship with nature.
For them, land is Mother Earth and from her womb sprung
the life of the mountain people. Land was regarded as a
gift from Kabunian, the Supreme Being, to be maintained
and nurtured through time by hard work. It was through
hard work that land could bear fruit. Thus, most families,
if not all, engaged in tilling the soil by swidden farming,
vegetable gardening, cattle and hog raising. Such was the
time when nature provided the best fertile soil, hence, no

14
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
need for chemical fertilizers. Plants and animals grew
robust and healthy.
Cooperative work was well-portrayed through the
aduyunan, a system in which the community would
voluntarily participate at work on the farm or in building
somebody’s house.
Communal living then was not only a social structure,
but also their style for transmission of values. These values
bear constant reference of things and events to their elders,
ancestors, and spirits in the environment.
Elders of integrity were looked up to as community
leaders. They composed the tungtungan, a Council of Elders,
who enforced community laws, decided matters over
disputes among families or community members and
discussed issues concerning the community.
The religion, which was animist in nature, promoted a
lifestyle and consciousness that was in tune with the
ecosystem. Religious beliefs taught them to preserve nature
and allowed them to grow as a self-sufficient community,
keeping their communal lifestyle, cooperative work, trade,
rituals, songs, dances, musical instruments and handicrafts.
A community celebration was always an event to look
forward to. This may be a wedding feast or a cañao. The
term cañao has never been used as an Ibaloi word. The
original term used when referring to said celebration is kedot
or kesheng or silbi or digat. It was in recent years that the
term “cañao” came about, which was perhaps of foreign
origin. A cañao is celebrated for some reasons. It could be
in thanksgiving for good health or abundant harvest. It
may also be for healing, reconciliation or in commemoration
of a death anniversary. Animals like cows, carabaos and
pigs are offered. Not anybody is authorized to perform the
rituals. Only a mambunong (indigenous priest/priestess)
may do so. Dancing may or may not take place depending
on the type of cañao being held. A set of Ibaloi musical
instruments for dancing are as follows:

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
15
Two gongs
named the
kalsa and
pinsak
Two short iron
bars called
tiktik
Two drums
called kimbal
and solibao
The players have to beat these instruments
harmoniously in order to produce the Ibaloi rhythm.
The first portion of the dance is sacred as this is for the
spirits of the ancestors. This is done prayerfully and is
supervised by the mambunong who utters prayers in
between the dancing. The rest of the dance is usually for
merry-making in which the youth and the guests may
participate. Since the cañao is a community affair, each
family is involved in the preparation of this activity.
It may be worthwhile to picture how an Ibaloi cañao
happens. Several days or weeks before the event takes place,
the community gets involved in its preparation. The men
see to it that piles of firewood are ready. Families bring in
their share of gabi, camote, vegetables and whatever they
wish to contribute. Young men and women take turns
pounding kintoman (red rice). Some women prepare the
jars for rice wine.
On the day of the cañao itself, the whole community
gathers. Relatives and friends from near and far come to
the celebration. Smoke, the squealing of pigs being
butchered and the sound of gongs and drums will tell you
that a celebration is taking place. After the rituals are done,
the men do the butchering and slicing of meat after which

16
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
these are simply boiled. This was how simple our ancestors
cooked their food. This perhaps could explain why they
were healthier, stronger and lived longer.
The young women’s task is to peel and cook the gabi
and camote. The young boys are there to fetch water. The
children’s presence, laughter and voices add life to the
celebration. And there you find the respected elders, mostly
in their colorful Ibaloi attire. The men are with their smoke
pipes while the women enjoy their shubdaan (a bush that
grows wild on the mountainsides, with aromatic leaves
that are dried and rolled like cigarettes). This is the best
time when the elders recount their history and continue
sharing their dreams with one another. Sometimes they do
this through chanting called ba-diw or story-telling. Rice
wine is passed around for adults. At mealtime, the
mambunong says some prayers and calls on all spirits of
the Ibaloi ancestors to partake of the offerings. Then
everyone is invited to eat.
Looking at the scene, life seemed so beautiful and
simple! That was when Bakakeng was once upon a time a
haven for nature’s best and nature’s bounty was shared
with everyone. Time was when food was gathered for
consumption, not for exchange. That was when people
found time just to be with others and enjoy each other’s
presence. Such was a strong spirit of communal living
among the peace-loving Ibalois of Bakakeng!
The kedot is but a deep expression of their religious
beliefs, which was misunderstood by the early missionaries
and, sad to say, was branded as “pagan.” The early
missionaries tried to evangelize them but the elders
remained steadfast in their indigenous faith. But later, some
of them allowed their children to be baptized as Catholics
through the endeavor of Sister Mary Fidelis Dorsch, an
American Maryknoll Sister, who relentlessly visited the
Ibalois in their homes. How people appreciated her cordial
approach of dealing with them. She dared hiking the trails
of Bakakeng rain or shine. On her scheduled days to
Balacbac or Tuba, the “Pony Boys” like Durante Bangsi-il,

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
17
Ruperto Ingosan, Ramon and Basilio Camilo were always
ready to offer her a horseback ride to and from the place.
While it is true that most of the elders were not formally
schooled, the values handed down to them never
diminished. When some schools in nearby places opened,
they took the opportunity to send only the boys for
education. They believed that girls need not go to school as
they were meant to stay home to do household work.
The first school which most attended was Tuba Central
School. Some years later, parents saw the need for girls to
be educated too. So when Atab Catholic School opened,
both boys and girls were sent for classes. Atab School was
erected on a lot donated by the Suellos. This was run by
the Maryknoll Sisters until it phased out in the late 1970s.
As to date, it is a school for the blind. It is delightful to say
that some of the first teachers of Atab hailed from Bakakeng
like Mrs. Cecilia Lutis Quinio, Mrs. Lourdes Kitma Passi,
Mrs. Catalina Okubo Pucay and Mrs. Lucy Smith de
Guzman of Balacbac.
As time went on, more parents saw the importance of
education, so they felt responsible to send their children to
school. It is remarkable to say that many have pursued
schooling and are now professionals. Some of these
professionals have remained in Bakakeng to serve the
community and the city, while others have gone to other
places to seek greener pastures. There are some who have
entered into politics and are now officials of the barangay.
It is noteworthy to mention that Mr. Jose Parisas Baluda
who belongs to the Buyoc clan made it to the position of
Mayor of Tuba, Benguet. Gratitude is attributed to the
parents who have seen the importance of education for
their children so as to be able to cope with the changing
times.
Similarly, the Ibalois understand that land does not
belong to anyone or to any one generation. The mountains
and hills were regarded as God-given communal
inheritances that must be preserved and passed on from

18
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
one generation to the other. This concept of land made
them resist foreign domination by the Spaniards. The
Americans, however, won them over by their “benevolent”
rule and introduced titling of lands. The Ibalois were then
caught between two worlds of values—those strong
communal spirits of their past and those which come from
individualistic tendencies of modernization. Gradually,
they experienced conflict and disorientation on cultural
values.
In this confusion of change, there was no other option.
The lands that used to be communal were titled as private
individual properties. This entirely changed the principle
of tribal ownership. This meant the possibility of losing their
cultural heritage and assuming the ways, values and
culture of the government. As a consequence of land titling,
the elders decided to preserve a certain portion of the land
for a burial ground for the community, particularly for the
descendants of the original Ibaloi inhabitants of Bakakeng,
including the early Kankanaey settlers. The area identified
by the community is now the Bakakeng Ancestral Cemetery
which is located at a prime lot between the old and new
SLU-SVP Housing sites. This portion happened to be a
grazing land for cattle owned by the old folks Calsi and
Parisas.
In 1920, when some inhabitants started titling their
lands as private properties, Calsi and Parisas excluded this
identified cemetery from being titled. Indeed this was done
out of concern and respect for the decision made by the
community elders. It is significant to mention some
community elders as recounted by Benning Parisas Akia
(Buyoc Clan), Julita Calatan Kitma (Taktak clan), Luisa
Akia Manis (Calsi clan) and Kucia Camilo Ingosan
(Mariano clan).
Here is a partial list of names of community elders of
Bakakeng:
1. Pacalso and Kintana (survived by the Mat-an,
Bartolome and Demot families);

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
19
2. Palispis and Ahudaw (survived by the Binay-an,
Kiwas, Baday and Kelvan families);
3. Buyoc and Payat (survived by the Parisas families);
4. Calsi and Shamja (survived by Balong and Damsis
families);
5. Batil and Bitnay (survived by the Mariano and
Bangsi-il families);
6. Taktak and Shahunay (survived by Kitma and
Bangsi-il families);
7. Basawan and Suyep (survived by Palos, Chapis and
Camilo families).
As a matter of fact, when the SLU-SVP Housing Project
started, the CICM Fathers inquired about the possibility of
swapping the cemetery lot with another lot below the old
site area. With Mr. Daniel Milo’s explanation on how sacred
the burial site is for the community, the plan didn’t push
through. Of course, the Ibalois of Bakakeng would have
opposed the idea.
In the mode of development, gone is the concept of land
as a gift held in stewardship for future generations. Gone
are the lush greenery and other vegetative cover to
developers who value the land in terms of square meters.
Gone, too, is the scent of pine needles, which used to bring
a refreshing feeling.
What now exist are denuded hills, squatters within
Bakakeng Ancestral Cemetery, buildings of all sizes and
shapes, housing projects and subdivisions. Water is no
longer in abundance. Springs, which used to be found along
hillsides, disappeared due to earth-moving activities. Space
and water have become precious commodities. Such is an
example of how greed in the guise of development can ruin
a previously well-maintained environment.
With the present realities of Bakakeng, it is the hope of
the remaining Ibaloi elders to equip the young with the
riches of their own cultural heritage and values to help

20
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
them blunt the blow of rapid changes. These values will
help them make discernments that could bring decisive
action, while opening them to options as they face the
problems of change.
Elders have come to realize the mistakes of our past
educational system that have contributed to the
disorientation of young generations from their historical
reality. They feel it is their responsibility to hand down
tribal values and to challenge the young to continue their
history as a people along the values of community and
Christian spirit. Their aspirations could only become a
reality when Bakakeng becomes fully alive, continuously
moving towards self-determination and national identity.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
21
Story of Guisad Valley and
its Neighbors
ROGER SINOT
Guisad Valley, circa 1900-1910.
From the collection of Jack Cariño.
Pinsao was one of the puroks or sitios of Guisad Village
as told by my mother and grandfather, the late Eugene
Pucay Sr.
When the Americans came to Baguio in the early years
of 1900, they introduced their way of government, which
was handed down to the Philippine government. They
expropriated into government ownership most of the Ibaloi
lands in the valley.
Guisad was declared as Bureau of Plant Industry (BPI)
reservation. Other areas in Baguio were declared Military,
Forest, and Mining Reservations. They built schools (Easter

22
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
School and Bonifacio Elementary School in Guisad) and
churches (Seventh Day Adventist, Christian Science and
the Baptist Theological Seminary).
The Ibalois of Guisad were farmers and cattle raisers
(horses and domestic animals). Some had to move to the
neighboring mountains of now Aurora Hill, Quirino Hill,
Pinget, Kalkalan, Benin, Irisan, and towards the boundary
of Baguio and La Trinidad.
The Edwins, Solanos, Zarates, and Lacadens stayed
within the compounds of BPI with limited residential areas.
The families who went to the mountainsides were the
Camdases, Sinots, Pistolas, Smiths, Kiangs, and Bilags.
They are all of kin.
The La Trinidad valley was also the grazing land of the
Tompaos, Alinoses, Kimos, Nabuses, and Laoyans. These
groups of Ibalois have one thing in common. When a cañao
celebration occurred, every household of the La Trinidad
and Baguio Ibalois received the share of pieces of meat
called watwat, until the last Ibaloi families of Loakan area.
This indicates they are all of kin.
Displaced Ibalois of Guisad valley who settled in the
mountains went in groups, the BABEPIN (Badihoy, Benin,
Pinsao). Badihoy was where the Acops, Kiangs, Willys, and
Alinoses lived. Benin was where the Pistolas, Smiths,
Camdases, and Zarates lived. Pinsao was where the Sinots,
Bilags, and Bugnays lived. These Ibalois were not
businessmen, but were farmers fond of raising cattle with
a communal pastureland. Some of their relatives settled in
Irisan (the Osios, Saguids, Kiwases and Esperanzas) all the
way to Asin (the Amistads, Aloses, Okubos, and few other
offspring).
Pinsao Pilot, Pinsao Pinget, Aurora Hill, Quirino Hill,
Quezon Hill, and Fairview were the pastureland or
grassland of the early Ibalois. Now they are barangays and
sitios of the North of Baguio.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
23
Irisan Story
JILL CARIÑO
We were told the story of Irisan by Virginia Luna, now
72 years old. Virginia is a native of Barlig, Mountain
Province, who as a young girl of 13 years, came to Irisan
with her father in 1946. Later on, she married Felix Luna,
a son of one of the 20 or so original Ibaloi families who had
first settled in the community of Irisan during the early
1900s. Aside from Luna, other original Ibaloi families of
Irisan are Oseo, Palgi, Gabol, Pucay. Most of these families
came from Kabayan before settling in the area of Irisan.
Most are related to each other as siblings or cousins, since
it was the practice of the Ibaloi then to intermarry among
themselves. Also among the early settlers of Irisan was
Calatan, a Kankanaey from Buguias who married a sister
of Luna.
Irisan used to be a part of Tuba, Benguet under the
first mayor of Tuba, Swaking Ismek or Joaquin Smith (father
of Tomas Smith). Irisan comes from the Ibaloi term “idisan
meaning a wood used to grind something to make it fine.
Not so long ago, until the 1950s, the place was thickly
forested with pine trees. The old folks used to say that they
planted the pine trees so that they could have wood to
make their houses. There were only a few houses in Irisan
then. The traditional Ibaloi houses were made of pine wood
and cogon stick roofing or sapsap. There was also a creek
nearby where gold panning was done, and a lime quarry
(apugan).

24
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Irisan gorge, circa 1900-1910.
From the collection of Jack Cariño.
The lime quarry was later on bought by the mining
company Benguet Consolidated Inc. (BCI). BCI established
a lime kiln in Irisan in 1945 to supply lime for their gold
mines in Itogon. The lime kiln was a joint venture between
the Ibaloi Felipe Pucay and the American company BCI.
The lime kiln drew in many other settlers who came to

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
25
work there. Among them was Catalino Pablo, father of
Virginia, who found work as a carpenter in the lime kiln.
Upon graduation from high school in Irisan at 15 years
of age, Virginia married Lopez Oseo, a local Ibaloi, and
bore a son. However, the marriage ended in separation.
Later, (after a settlement with the family of her first
husband), she married another Ibaloi man of Irisan, Felix
Luna, and bore 10 children.
Titling of lands in Irisan that started as early as 1922
included the Igorot claims known as the 211 titles. Oges
Oseo, who had the widest land in the area was able to title
his land. Likewise, Joseph Gabol and Pastor Gabol were
able to title 27 hectares of their land. Eventually, these titled
lands were sold to people from Manila, including a realty
company that converted and developed the land into
subdivisions. Lots in the subdivisions were quickly sold to
outsiders, mostly from Manila.
The Cypress area in Irisan, which was originally titled
in the name of Pucay, was also sold to a land development
company that came with bulldozers and converted the
land into a subdivision. Lots were again sold to outsiders
who could afford to buy the land.
In 1952, Don Benito Lopez bought land in Irisan and
set up the Baguio Military Institute, a school for rich people.
The school eventually closed down and the land was taken
over by the Korean company, Coo Yee San.
In 1983, another area of Irisan, the land of Daniel
Maganes, Tomas Smith, Gabol and Saguid, was designated
as a resettlement area for the urban poor during the term
of Mayor Bueno. The land was to be paid by the settlers to
the ancestral landowners at P2.00 per square meter. This
started the influx of thousands of settlers and squatters
into Irisan. Many associations of settlers and urban poor
came in to set up their houses in Irisan. They approached
the barangay officials to allow them to build their houses
and to certify that they were residents in the area. They

26
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
started to improve the land and construct houses. Some of
them later on sold the land to third parties, even without
the benefit of legal titles. Some parts of Irisan that were not
titled but were covered by tax declarations reverted back
to public land.
The number of houses in Irisan increased rapidly. This
prompted the Baguio City government to conduct
demolition of illegal structures of settlers and squatters
starting in the 1990s. Many houses, big and small, were
demolished for lack of building permits and legal titles to
the land.
A fairly-recent development in Irisan is the Community
Mortgage Program (CMP), which has further complicated
the land situation in the community.
The dump site in Irisan started as the ancestral land of
Joaquin Smith. The land later became public land of the
city that was used for housing of employees of the Baguio
City Health Department under the leadership of Dr.
Gorospe.
All these developments brought drastic changes to
Irisan. Where before were thick pine forests, gardens,
pasture lands and a few scattered houses, are now denuded
mountains filled with houses and other structures that have
mushroomed all over the place. Through the years, roads,
schools, bridges and other infrastructure were developed
by the city government to serve the fast-growing population
of Irisan.
Irisan barangay now has the biggest population of all
barangays in the city. It is divided into 33 puroks. In each
purok, you can still find a few Ibaloi families living there,
whom Virginia Luna took pains to mention by name. Ibalois
are now a small minority in the barangay, far outnumbered
by other ethnic groups. The majority of the barangay
population is now composed of settlers from other provinces
of the Cordillera, from Manila, from other lowland
provinces and elsewhere. Irisan is a microcosm of the City

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
27
of Baguio, a melting pot of various ethnic groups and
cultures, where the Ibaloi are now a small minority.
It is telling that when looking for Ibaloi informants in
Irisan, we were referred to Virginia Luna, a long-time
barangay official, who served in the barrio council from
1967-1970, then as barangay captain from 1972 to 1988,
and who, until now, still serves as a barangay kagawad.
Although she is not an Ibaloi by birth, we were told that
we can interview Virginia, who is well-informed and can
speak on the situation of the Ibalois in Irisan.
True, Virginia is a rich source of knowledge about the
development of Irisan barangay through the years, about
her work as a barangay official and as market vendor and
dealer-supplier of Baguio vegetables to well-known
restaurants in Manila. But she speaks, not as an Ibaloi, but
as one who has married into an Ibaloi family, and who
has not imbibed the Ibaloi culture. In fact, it is the other
way around. Ibaloi descendants have now imbibed the
cultures of those who have come in to intermarry with them
and live in the place. Although the children of Virgina and
Felix Luna are a mere two generations away from the
original Ibaloi settlers of Irisan, they don’t speak Ibaloi,
which is typical of children of mixed marriages.
Despite decades of living in Irisan, Virginia cannot
speak on behalf of the Ibaloi of Irisan, who it seems have
become silent and have passed on to others the
responsibility to speak on their behalf.
The situation of the Ibaloi in Irisan is an indication of
the trend happening all over the City of Baguio. In Irisan is
proof of the minoritization, marginalization, dislocation,
silence and invisibility of the Ibalois in the face of rapid
urbanization and massive in-migration of numerous other
peoples and cultures into Baguio.

28
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
29
CHAPTER TWO
FAMILY MATTERS AND
RECOLLECTIONS
BY SOFIA OLGA ANTON

30
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Writing of family histories is one way for today’s Baguio
Ibalois to learn their own history and be educated on the role of
their ancestors in the development of Baguio. Family histories
serve to build pride among the younger generation in the
accomplishments of their ancestors, while teaching them the
traditional values and customs of the Ibalois. Historical accounts
also shed light on the various factors behind the diminishing
wealth, power and role of the Ibalois in the life of the city.
Documenting the histories of Ibaloi families in Baguio could
provide an important facet of the development of the city from
a sparsely populated Ibaloi settlement of farmlands and
pasturelands amid pine forests to the bustling metropolis it is
today.
This chapter contains excerpts from the unpublished
collection of stories by Sofia Olga Anton. She dedicates these to
her dear grandchildren, Sydney, Emily and Jeremiah and Jeriah,
and hopes that they will, one day, find some pleasure and
wonderment in reading about their roots.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
31
Muyot
“Muyot”
Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton.
Muyot was the original name of the mountain village
where we were born as were my mother’s family. At
one time, Muyot was part of the town of Tuba. That was
before Baguio was chartered. With the re-zoning and
boundary realignments of the municipalities near Baguio,
part of Muyot got incorporated into Gumatdang, a barrio
of Itogon. The western part of Muyot is now part of Baguio
and still retains its name.

32
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
This village is a cluster of piney foothills that ascend to
the western mountaintops that rim the city above, Baguio.
A river comes down from the northwestern range where
the village of Balatan, now known as Happy Hollow, is
situated. Several brooks come down between the cleavages
of the hills and the mountains. Up from the brook and river
embankments, rice terraces were built by my ancestors on
my mother’s side.
Pura was our grandmother Casumei’s grandfather.
Pura and his siblings, Macay and Cavingkot, practically
built Muyot. Whenever they found a water source, they
built rice paddies. Pura had two children, both girls, Sepa
and Intogay.
On a hillside, my grandmother Casumei built her house.
As her children grew and got married, a few more houses
were added. Auntie Arida’s house is on the west of the old
house. Uncle Nacnac’s is to the east and Ma’s is right above.
Of Lelang’s children, Tamesa is the one who didn’t live
there after being married. She followed her husband,
Sagued, to Loakan, his own birthplace. Auntie Marcela
inherited Lelang’s house, she being the youngest. When I
was a child, these were the only houses on our hill, except
for Uncle Balsho’s house above ours, who later moved to
Mohiyat.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
33
Casumei and Ating (Ingosan)
I really like their names, but more important, I really loved
them very much.
Casumei and Ating were my grandparents on my
mother’s side. Casumei was the only surviving child of
Quehoy, also known as Lamsis Carantes, and Intogay
(sometimes called Kurab, meaning blind). She had a
younger brother who died before he was a toddler. It has
been said that there was some kind of epidemic and
Casumei could have died too were it not for the quick-
mindedness of her cousin, Sagueb. Casumei was then a
few years old, and Sagueb’s child Ellen was a baby. Sagueb
then decided to flee Muyot during the epidemic. She carried
Ellen on her back, and carried Casumei on her shoulders,
and fled to Tuding to avoid the epidemic. She walked, for
there were no vehicles then. It was an uphill trek, over
hills, across brooks and rivers. Sagueb’s husband had
relatives in Tuding where they stayed until they deemed it
safe to return to Muyot.
Casumei was a splendid woman. She was regal in
bearing and there was a no-nonsense aura about here. She
was tall, broad shouldered, and straight as a rod. She was
as strong as she looked. The right word I can think of to
describe her is matriarchal. Her word was usually the last
word. She was the most hardworking person in her
household. I’ve never seen her idle nor have I ever seen her
sick until she underwent an operation, which eventually
caused her death.

34
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Our house was 200 meters above Lelong’s and Lelang’s
house. Every time I got a chance, I walked down to their
house—to eat or just to be fussed over and pampered. Up
to when I was five or six, they had two separate houses:
one was the main house, and the other the kitchen house.
The kitchen house had a thatched roof. It was the kitchen,
the dining room and the rice storage as well. When Auntie
Marcela got married,
Lelong and Lelang used the
kitchen house as their
sleeping quarters. Lelang
had a wooden bed in one
corner and Lelong had a cot
bed in another corner. It
was tight quarters but we
all had a great time then. In
the middle of the room was
their portable fireplace
called bintuan. This bintuan
was made of a tin basin “Bintuan” Oil painting by Sofia Olga
filled with sand and soil, Anton
and voilà, you could build
a fire.
I have the fondest memories of this bintuan. We usually
had dinner before dark. You see, there was no electricity
then. Right after supper, Lelong would start getting the
kindling wood called saleng ready for the fireplace. When
we children saw him doing this, we would in no time be
gathered around the fireplace. Lelong would entertain us
with stories and riddles while he roasted camote or corn
or whatever was in season or available. I can picture him
quite clearly now even though that was some 60 years or
so ago. He is sitting right on the floor, his knees almost up
to his chin, his ankles crossed over, his hand holding his
pipe and he puffs on that pipe as tranquilly as ever. Lelang
smoked too, and at this time would also be doing her pedped
and tobacco. Pedped is an aromatic bush whose leaves are
like guava leaves. The leaves are dried and then rolled with

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
35
or without a piece of tobacco to be smoked. These are called
shobdaan.
Ating, also known as Ingosan Pacday, married Casumei
Carantes and their children are Adela, Emilia, Nacnac,
Teresa and Marcela. We called him Lelong, meaning
grandfather. He was a slightly built man, fair-
complexioned, with bushy eyebrows and kind eyes. He had
the kindest eyes I have ever seen.
Lelong was the baby sitter for us kids while the women
folk went to the ricefields or to the uma, patches of cleared
and tilled hillsides or mountain slopes planted to root crops,
bananas, corn, papayas, pineapple, or whatever else can
grow.
There were Hilaria, Maclin, I, Aleris, Brenda, and the
younger kids: Johnson, Nenet, Boysie, and Bel. So there
was usually a baby at his back, and another straddled at
his hip, maybe yet another on the other hip. “Guara’y nan
eba, nan-akpi, nan-akguwal, nanbavangi.” That is how he was
with kids. He made tops and slings for the boys.
He had other chores to do, too. First thing in the
morning, he fetched water to fill the water jar (kalamba),
which by the way still exists today. The water in that jar
was cold and refreshing. That kalamba was there before I
was born so it must be at least 60 years old. I’m 59 as I
write this, so it is indeed an antique piece. It’s at home
now in Baguio. I saw it just lying around under Uncle
Nacnac’s house four years ago and I asked why they were
not using it. Calimbay said the water had a funny taste
and smell. I brought it home and is now part of my antique
collection.
Another early task of Lelong was to take out the carabao
to pasture. A carabao was a prized possession. It was the
work animal for the rice fields. Lelong took very good care
of it. At midday, he would give the carabao water or at
least move it where it could drink water. In the afternooon,
Lelong would go get it and bring it near his house. This

36
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
was the time we usually went with Lelong so we could get
a ride on the carabao. That was a treat for the day.
Lelong’s and Lelang’s lives were closely tied to their
land. It was their main source of livelihood. Year in and
year out it was a cycle of planting and harvesting rice and
other activities were planned and done against this
framework. There were two major planting seasons. The
early season would start in June or July to be harvested in
October or November. The late and dry season would start
in December or January and be read for harvesting in April
or May.
Lelong took care of the carabao, a few cows, some
chicken, and dogs. Lelang had her pigs, too. The menfolk
also found some time to do some gold mining and panning,
and Lelang did the “cooking” of the gold. Some of my
cousins still do gold panning.
Anyway, back to rice planting, Lelong and Uncle
Nacnac, and even Dad got the fields ready. Lelang and
the women first did the seeding. Then the men harrowed
the fields with the help of the carabao. They fixed the
irrigation so that the paddies would fill with water, and
then they harrowed again until the soil was smoothly
muddy. In the meantime, the women helped restore the
embankment of the paddies so that the water would be
conserved in each paddy. They strengthened the embank-
ment by adding fresh mud that would later dry and become
firm. We call this teneng. By that time, the seedlings would
be ready to be planted. Lelang set the best day for planting
by consulting the position of the moon. She then announced
the day so that neighbors and relatives would come and
help plant the rice. It was hard work, but it was also a
form of socializing. Lunchtime was the highlight of the day.
It gave everybody a little time to rest and to catch up on
bits of gossip and whatnots, bantering and tall story telling.
More people came on the first day of planting. One or two
did the uprooting of the seedlings. Children could do the
distribution of the bundles of seedlings. All the others lined

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
37
up sideways, a meter or so apart, and planted two or three
seedlings firmly into the mud. They were barefoot and
sometimes there were leeches, so there was always some
tobacco around to help remove the leeches that might stick
to one’s skin.
A month or so after the planting, there was weeding to
do (kamas). This was mostly done by Lelang and her
children and maybe a few other relatives. When the rice
began to fill out, it was Lelong’s time to set up the gadgets
and scarecrows to drive the birds away. It was one of the
fun jobs we shared with Lelong. We had fun jingling the
ropes to which cans were tied to make noise to scare the
birds away. Lelong also made slings for us and we tried to
outdo one another to hit the birds. We set traps for the
birds, and when we caught any, we barbecued them—
yummy, yummy.
Lelong built a shack called abolan, which served as
headquarters to do the task of shooing away the birds,
where he could do baby sitting as well, and where he could
pile and bundle the rice harvested by the women. The
people who came to help plant also came to help harvest.
After Lelong bundled up the stalks of rice, he assigned what
each would bring home as her share of the harvest. The
rest of the rice was brought home. We did not have to buy
rice then. Our own harvest was enough to feed us from
season to season.
They planted the rice, weeded, cared for them, and
harvested them. They dried them under the sun and over
the cooking fire, when it was raining. Then they pounded
the rice. Pounding rice was a task we did not enjoy, but
we did so because we had to. There was a wooden trough
made from a big log called desong. It was used for the first
round of pounding. Here, the rice husks and chaffs were
roughly removed. Winnowing came next. We scooped the
pounded rice into a shallow, round and wide basket called
diga-o, where the process called ta-ep was done. With both
hands, we held the middle rim and tossed the rice into the

38
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
air slightly but just allowing for the chaff to be blown away
from the diga-o, but catching the rice back into it. When
most of the chaff had been removed, the second pounding
was done to refine the rice. It was done in the baju-an, a
deeper trestle made from a wood trunk. Nowadays it is
easier to make it out of cement and mortar. This time, the
chaff is finer and this is saved for pig food. This fine chaff
is called toyo. Voilà! The rice is ready to be cooked whenever
it is time. Rice to fill a dangaja, a deeper basket was the
normal amount at any one pounding job. The dangaja could
contain 20–25 pounds of rice, which would normally last
a week and the cycle of pounding would begin. When
company was expected or when there was a feast or
religious ceremony, rice pounding would take long hours,
and require several hands.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
39
Gold Panning
Lelang Casumei had all the land that provided them their
staples, but they needed money for other things. Lelang
made some money from the pigs she raised but the real
money came from gold.
On the season off from planting and harvesting, my
old folks did some gold panning. The men did prospecting
and sampling by digging rocks by the riverbanks or by the
hillsides. They crushed the rocks manually by hammering
them into as little pieces as possible. Later on they used a
ballmill to crush the rocks. The little pieces of rocks were
ground manually on the flat surface of a big rock. A stone
was used to grind the pieces into sand. The sand was then
sieved through a homemade wire sifter. That was to
separate the finer sand from the coarse ore that had to go
back through the process of grinding and sifting.
After the grinding and sieving, the fine sand was put
in a shallow basin and the process of separating the gold
from the sand began in the process called sayo. This was
usually done by the riverside, stream or brook. Water was
poured on the basin of sand, and a gentle shaking of the
basin ensued, gently and slowly, while the water was
drained from the pan. This was repeated several times and,
amazingly, the yellow or orange colored particles of gold
conglomerated on one side of the pan. The gold was then
put in a separate container, a glass jar or a bowl. The rest
of the sand was not thrown away. It went through many

40
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
cycles of panning, while there was still evidence of gold
particles.
Then came the most delicate process of refining the gold
by fire. I must have been 10 the last time I witnessed Lelang
cooking the gold. A few things were needed for the process:
charcoal, clay saucers, blowers or fan, mercury, tongs,
weight and measures, and the gold particles.
My grandmother would get the charcoal red hot like
we would when barbecuing. She did this in the kitchen
house or on the ground under the house. On the ground,
she used three good-sized rocks that served as a stand for
the clay saucer. She put the gold particles on the saucer;
put the saucer over the fire. When the gold melted, she put
a few drops of mercury. She then removed the saucer from
the fire and let it cool a bit. And as it cooled, the gold
solidified and other foreign matter was separated from the
gold. I have always been awed by this process. It seemed
like magic then.
Whenever Lelang was cooking gold, she didn’t want
anyone around to be talking or sneezing, or else the gold
could turn out to be fool’s gold or could even disappear
altogether. This explains why she preferred to do this late
in the evening when the children were not around and no
nosy neighbors might be lingering. I had heard them tell
stories about how the gold sometimes disappeared. It
seemed like superstition, but I think it’s quite rational. When
someone sneezed as the saucer was perched on the stones,
it could get upset and the motion could then throw the
gold into the burning coal, and the gold might seem to
disappear. But who knows? I don’t question the beliefs of
my old folks. Some may be exaggerations, but there is
always some grain of truth in them too.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
41
Ghosts
Ann and I were talking about ghosts last night. She said
she didn’t believe in ghosts until one experience in
Muyot, when she went there with Nita.
They were in the kitchen. Ann was standing by the
stove when she heard some grunting and sighing. She said
the sighing was more of contentment as when the belly is
full and satisfied. She thought it was a pig and asked, “So
you have a pig?” Calimbay answered, “No, it’s the one
that lives there” (Afil, hatan sota nan-baliy shitan), meaning
it was the ghost that lives there.
Regarding the ghost that Ann heard, it seems that the
ghost had a special liking for brown sugar. Every now and
then, Nacnac and Calimbay would notice how
dramatically their brown sugar would dip unusually low.
So when someone says, “Aishi moan dai asucal,” they mean
“the ghost has been dipping into the jar of brown sugar
again.”
It could have been the ghost of Lelang or Lelong or of
our sister who died when she was about two years old.
Here name was Lida. She was adopted by Lolong James
and Lola Cansoya but they returned her when she was so
sick. She finally died and was buried by our old house.
Lelong and Lelang were buried under their house but
later when Uncle Nacnac performed the keshew and the
sedpang, they dug out the bones and buried them under
Nacnac’s house.

42
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Years ago when Lelong was still alive and Ann and
Jun were toddlers, some woman lived in our house which
was then unoccupied. She and her family rented Suwining’s
rice fields and planted them to vegetables. I don’t remember
her name but I think she was from Kapangan or Tublay.
Anyhow, she didn’t stay in our house for long. She kept
seeing in reality and in her dreams a young and beautiful
girl. Ma had an old folding spring bed. I think that was the
first bed they bought. Later they had other beds made and
they put the old spring bed in the third bedroom, which
Jone used. The room was also used as the sewing room
when Jone was not there. Well, this room was what the
woman used. She related that one time, she dreamt of this
beautiful young girl sitting on the spring bed. The girl asked
her, “Why are you using my bed?” The woman was really
alarmed. She said that sometimes she would get a glimpse
of the young girl even when she was fully awake.
Lelong performed a little cañao while the woman was
still living in our house. I myself didn’t go but Ma, Mart,
Bel, Nita, Ann, and Jun went. I could not leave school, and
besides, there were Arnel and Marnie in school, too. It is
the custom and part of the religious ceremony that the
family members gather around to eat first. Lelong and her
grandchildren were all gathered around the ayag (food that
had already been blessed and offered). The woman then
said that she could see the young girl she had seen in our
house amongst Lelong’s other grandchildren gathered
around. By the way, the woman had never seen Mart until
that day. When she saw Mart there at Lelong’s house, she
said that the girl in here dreams looked very much like
Mart—fair, red-lipped with long hair. At that time, Mart
too, had long hair. Mart was around 18 then and Lida
would have been 24.
That was really strange. It took an outsider and a
comparative stranger to see Lida where every one hadn’t.
It is true though that there are a few people who can see
ghosts. The woman did not stay long in our house. She

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
43
and her family built a shack in the land they were renting
from Suwining.
Other people who had lived in our house were relatives
and they all felt the presence of a ghost but they were not
frightened and they did not mind. The ghost did not show
itself to them. I guess it knows its own relatives and is happy
with the situation. The house has been empty for years
except for occasional visits when anyone of us might go to
a cañao or wedding or any social affair. Violeta and Nover
lived there until they built their own house. Nita and Greg
also lived there for a while until they moved to Tomasa’s
old houses in Shontog.
Lelong had always told us not to be afraid of ghosts
but rather of the living. He used to say that ghosts do no
harm, but the living would. How true it is, indeed.
When we were kids, we loved hearing stories from
Lelong and Lelang about ghosts. I can’t recall more of them
off hand.

44
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Pongo
There was this often-told tale about the pongo. Once in a
while, when I was a kid, we would hear a strange bird
sound that went “pongo—pongo—pongo.” It seemed almost
like a wail. It almost always came from the brooks or the
river. It always happened at twilight time or at night. I
have never seen the creature and I’ve been told that no
one has either but I’m pretty sure that we must have seen
the bird though we didn’t know it was the one making the
pongo sound. So people called this heard-but-not-seen
creature pongo. I haven’t heard the pongo since I was a
little girl. I don’t know if they still hear it nowadays.
Sometimes, Lelang would try to scare me into sleeping early
by saying, “Mai pongo; ka-en pong-pongo. Maukip kita et.”
(There’s the pongo; it’s keeps on wailing. We better go to
sleep.) And then I would clamor for her to tell me about
the pongo even if I had heard it many times before.
The pongo was supposedly a wicked woman who had
been turned into a strange creature. The woman was cruel
and selfish. One day, a stranger stopped at her house and
asked for a drink of water for he was very tired and thirsty
from traveling far. The woman scorned him, didn’t give
him anything to drink or to eat. The stranger went on his
way and presently, the selfish woman turned into a pongo.
This creature is always thirsty and that is why it goes up
and down the riverbanks. Everytime the pongo reaches
the water’s edge, the water disappears or rather flows down
and away from her and the pongo cannot catch any to

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
45
drink. Sometimes, she even removes her divet or wrap-
around skirt, so she could fling it at the water to get soaked,
but when she reels it back to her, she finds that it has dried.
That is when it makes the wailing sound—“Pongo…” It is
almost like “Woe on me…” The creature follows the water
in vain. That was here punishment for not giving drink to
the thirsty stranger. There are probably other versions of
this folktale, but this is what I remember. So, what’s the
lesson? Give drink to the thirsty; be charitable.
Now this brings to mind that my grandparents and my
parents as well as my other relatives are always hospitable
to people who come or pass by our house. Whenever people
stop by, they are welcome to any refreshments or food that
we have.

46
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Snakes
Living on the hillsides where brooks are everywhere and
where the undergrowth can be quite lush or dry, it is
only natural that snakes are a part of the environment.
But I would like to write about some weird instances where
snakes appeared to be the ghosts or the temporary
reincarnation of our dead. Snakes can terrify, but early on,
we’ve been told that if we leave them alone, they won’t
harm us or won’t come back and do their vengeance on us
in some other way.
I went home to Muyot in January 1998 to attend
Manching’s kedot: keshew and sedpang. They dug out the
bones of Dofino and Savel; dressed them up and gave them
the things they supposedly need: money, clothes, tools and
animals. I went by myself. I stopped by Uncle Nacnac’s
house to visit with Johnson who, by the way, is bedridden.
I brought him some socks and towels and a blanket. He
said his feet and legs get terribly cold. I also brought him
some goodies and cigarettes. He was the only one left in
the whole compound. Everybody was at Manching’s house
up on the hill. Anyhow, I decided to go and start climbing
the hill as it was getting late in the afternoon. When I went
out of the house and was right in front of Auntie Marcela’s
house, I saw Marcela, Alfredo, and their grandkids coming
up the pathway. I then stopped to wait for them. While
waiting thus, Uncle Nacnac, Calimbay, Arida, Nita,
Lourdes, and Nita’s kids also arrived from Manching’s

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
47
house. They all came home to feed Johnson, their pigs and
dogs and to lock up their houses before they went back to
the cañao. We all converged in front of Marcela’s house.
While we were talking, we also noticed the grass moving
and heard some crackling noise right in front of us in what
we call the ba-eng (a sloping front yard in this case).
Lourdes went to check, looked down, and thought is was
a chicken. A few seconds went by and we heard the same
sound and the grass started moving and actually parting.
Lo and behold, a snake came out in the open. It was fairly
big—the size of my wrist—and at least 2–3 feet long. It slid
into the pathway, went down a few more yards and
disappeared into the grass. Well, for a moment, nobody
said a word. Finally, Nita said it was the same snake they
often see. She said, “It’s the one that lives there”—meaning
a ghost. She further added that it must have come out to
meet us and greet us since it has been some time that we
were all together in Marcela’s house, which used to be
Lelang’s and Lelong’s house. I am not about to dispute the
claim that it could have been either Lelong or Lelang or
any of our dead come to greet us. It may be true. In fact, I
like to think so.
Then their stories about other instances came pouring
out. Marcela related how one day when she came home
from the payew (rice field), where she had been weeding,
she found a snake trying to climb one of the posts of the
house. This was after she had repaired the old house from
the earthquake damage of 1990. The snake seemed to be
looking for a way to get into the house.
Auntie Marcela then murmured some prayers like
pangnga-asi yo… kay-uli hayo nem tuwa i edafu-an jo; no
sih’kam itan tatang o no sih’kam itan nanang, egjo hami
tah’tah’koten. Pang-gavgavay jo hami sai ensukshuhey i biag
me; egsha hajo ngo depdepkan.” (Please go away, whoever
you are and wherever you came from, please go and leave
us in peace. If that be you, father, or if that be you, mother,
please don’t frighten us, help us instead to be healthy so

48
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
we may live long; we always think of you.) She poured
some water on the ground as she was murmuring her
prayers. And what do you know? The snake got off the
post and found its way into the grassy slope, the same spot
we had just seen one. Strange, huh? But it is true.
Ma had the old house repaired. Andoy and Uncle
Nacnac did the repairs. One morning when they were going
to resume the repairs they started, they found a snake curled
up on a chair. They left the snake alone. They just told
themselves, “Hadjay suta nanbalei shiyay.” (This is the one
the lives here.) So they just went about their work—
hammering and what not. For three days, the snake just
contentedly curled up in the same chair. They didn’t bother
it; it didn’t bother them. On the fourth day they were going
to work, the snake was nowhere to be found. What about
that? Whosoever’s spirit it was knew that what was being
done was for the betterment of the house. They couldn’t
pinpoint who it might be—nobody can—but it can be Lida
or Jone or any of our dead relatives. Most likely, it had
been Lelong because when he was alive, he would have
been sitting on the chair while Andoy and Uncle worked.
He would have been telling them to do this or that. Of
course the snake was just a plain regular snake needing to
curl up some place. The only thing is that any plain snake
would have been frightened away by the noise resulting
from the work. But the snake just snuggly stayed put on
the chair, I imagine, sleeping most of the time or just sleepily
watching Uncle and Andoy. Anyway, when the repairs
were done, Ma had a little ceremony called diyaw (house
blessing). The usual prayers were invoked: blessings of
grace, of health, of wealth of long life, and peace in the
household and for all the family and relatives.
Then there’s another thing about the star apple trees.
There are three of those trees Jone planted when he lived
with us. The star apple trees bear so much fruit but nobody
dares to climb them, not even the children. You see, a snake
supposedly lives in those trees, especially in the big middle
tree. They don’t see the snake too often; only when the

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
49
trees are laden with fruit. So nobody climbs the trees. They
either wait for the fruit to fall or use a pole to get the fruit.
Now, one can argue that there is a natural, logical
explanation for this which I suppose there is. It could be a
perfect spot for a snake’s habitat; it could be just
coincidence. But really, how come it is the star apple tree
when there are many other trees nearby? There are jackfruit
trees, mango trees, papaya trees, pines, chesa trees, brushes
and hedges. There is even a banaba tree where the snake
might feel more comfortable. It’s just like why would a snake
curl up on a chair and not budge in spite of the racket
going on around it?
When I was nine or 10, and Lelang was still well, Ma
found a snake in her kayabang (basket carried on the back
with a belt that holds basket and looped on the carrier’s
head). We had a detached dirty kitchen (avong), where we
used to cook the pigs’ food and where some baskets and
tools were kept. The cooking grill was right on the ground
(shah’polan). Early in the morning when Ma went to build
the fire to cook the pigs’ food (timol), she saw a snake curled
up in her kayabang. She was startled, of course, but she
managed to gently shoo away the snake. She called Lelang,
who did the madmad (invocations). In many instances, such
a case is interpreted as a harbinger of good luck (kasat).
But still, a snake is still a snake and it should not be treated
lightly.
My cousin Nenit (Marciana) and her husband used to
work the fields of their grandmother, Catalina, in Camp 7.
They had a daughter at that time. She was just over a year
old. They used to bring her with them to the fields where
they worked. They usually laid her under the shade as they
worked. The baby fell asleep so they kept working. The
next time they checked on her, they saw a snake curled up
next to her. I guess Fred’s fright turned to rage. He struck
the snake with his hoe (cabjun) ferociously. He hacked the
snake to pieces and flung them as he was swearing violently.
They inspected every inch of their baby to see if she might
have been bitten but she wasn’t. They were so relieved. A

50
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
few days later, the baby got sick. They took her to the doctor
who treated her for the fever. A few days later, the baby
died. Ma said that Fred should not have done what he did
to the snake. I don’t fault Fred. Anybody’s reaction could
have been the same. His first instinct was to protect his
daughter and that is a natural reflex. But what Ma said is
that he should not have hit the snake repeatedly and should
not have flung it with the nasty words he had used. Ma
says that the snake had taken its revenge. In that respect,
snakes are evil. In that respect, they can never be taken
lightly.
Now this is the story about a similar incident that
happened to Nita and Greg and their baby girl. They were
then living in Tomasa’s old house in Shontog which Ma
and Dad had bought. The little house stands surrounded
by the rice paddies. In fact, it is on one of the rice paddies.
Nita and Greg planted them to vegetables, which they were
then tending to that day. They left the baby asleep in the
house. They were close enough so they could hear her
when she would awake or cry. Greg went inside for a drink
of water and to look in on the baby. To his horror, he saw
a snake near the baby’s bed. Again, a father’s reaction was
to protect his child. Greg killed the snake by clubbing it.
But where Fred cut the snake into pieces and flung them,
Greg and Nita buried the snake in intoned prayers as well.
Thank God they were all right. The baby wasn’t harmed
nor did she get sick later. Gigi is now a beautiful girl.
Again, there are logical explanations. Or there could
be other interpretations. I leave that to you.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
51
Shalshal
“Shalshal, 50+ years ago”
Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton.
Shalshal is the original name of what is now better known
as Kitma Place or Village. It is really Bakakeng Central.
Shalshal is the other half of our roots. It is where Dad’s
forebears have lived and died. This is where we live.
Shalshal lies in the southern part of Baguio City. South
of Shalshal is Bengao. East of Bengao is Bakakeng Norte.
East of Bakakeng is Pias and a bit farther is Shekdan (Camp
7). Farther east of Camp 7 is Loakan. Then below the
mountains in Loakan lies Muyot. Northwest of Bakakeng
is Sarok. Southwest of Shalshal is Balakbak. On the west is
Atab and farther west is Tuba.

52
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
I have to mention all these places because these are the
places where my ancestors and my relatives have lived for
centuries. You can be sure to find relatives if you go to any
of these places. By the way, on both sides of the family,
there are relatives in the other parts of the city like Guisad,
Old Lucban, New Lucban, Pacdal, Irisan, and even in the
next town, La Trinidad.
The clans have become intertwined even more deeply
because of the inter-marriage of relatives. So you might be
a cousin on my mother’s side and also my cousin on my
father’s side.
I spent most of my childhood years in Muyot but I also
spent many weekends, Christmas vacations, and many
summers in Shalshal when I was a youngster. I stayed with
Daddy James and Cansoya. James was the brother of
Katubing, Dad’s father.
I would go with Cansoya to the uma in Balangavang
to plant yams or to dig them up for pig food. She always
had pigs to raise. Sometimes I would go with her to town
to do some marketing and, of course, if there was a cañao
going on, they would take me along. Once or twice a week,
Sonny and Toledo would go to town to collect the trashed
leftover food from the restaurant. I believe it was Star Café.
Sometimes they would let me go with them. We used to
get sacks of stale bread for pig food. But the three of us
kept the better pieces of bread, and in the morning or in
the evening when we would be cooking the pig food, we
had fun toasting the bread over the fire. We skewered the
pieces of bread on sticks and held them over the fire till
they got toasty and we enjoyed and savored them. We had
fun doing this. If James or Cansoya had seen us doing this,
they would have scolded us and would not have allowed
us to save the stale bread from the pigs and eat it ourselves.
But that’s the way with kids. They find joy in unexpected
places and situations.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
53
“Shalshal, 50+ years ago”
Oil painting by Sofia Olga Anton.
After supper, Daddy James would try to initiate what
we called a little program. He would ask us to sing or recite
a poem. Toledo never did either. Sonny seldom did, and
so, who do you think ended up doing one or the other? I
did. I learned a few rhymes and songs from Ma, or from
Auntie Marcela or from James himself. So Cansoya would
say to Sonny and Toledo, “avak shahedjo en Olga, ket eg-pay
la-eng man iscueda.” (Olga can beat you even if she isn’t in
school yet.) You see it was then a big deal for me to be able
to sing “Twinkle twinkle little star” or to recite “The Owl,”
my favorite recitation piece.
Hilarious, huh? But you see, we had no TV then, not
even a radio. So for entertainment, we read, we listened to
stories, jokes, and riddles. We played many kinds of games.
There was the classic hide-and-seek. We played kick the
can, ring around the rosie, hopscotch, marbles, tops, tatsing,
and other improptu games we could think of. But it was
fun.
There were very few houses in Shalshal. On the Baday
property there were James’, Ramona’s and Anton’s houses.
On the hill above was Tiwing (Aloysius) Kiwas’ house. On
the hill to the west were the Kitma houses. On the hills to

54
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
the north were the Pucay clan houses. On the hill to the
east and across the river, were the Parisas clan’s houses:
Binsay, Babay, Lelai, and Emily. Farther down south were
the houses of Pasi and Veronica Okubo. Houses were far
between. At that time, the properties were bigger for they
remained with the families from one generation to the next.
But, of course, the families grew and properties were
subdivided to provide for new family additions. Then, much
later, land was sold here and there, and so today, there is a
congestion and houses are just a few meters apart instead
of miles apart like when I was a kid.
Apology
I wrote these little stories years ago. I was rambling and I
put down only those that came to mind at that time. Now as
I’m reading them I realize that I might be slighting many
relatives for many omissions. I would like to apologize for
such. I never intended to slight any party. I only intended to
present a general and casual view of our roots for my
grandchildren so they will have some sense of identity and
belonging in this fast-changing universe. God willing and
with the help of numberous relatives, we may come up with a
more comprehensive and a more scholarly thesis of our
genealogy and Ibaloi heritage.


Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
55
CHAPTER THREE
PROBLEMS AND HOPES OF THE
BAGUIO IBALOIS TODAY
BY JILL CARIÑO

56
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Land and Housing
It is without a doubt that the situation and wellbeing of
the Baguio Ibalois today is a far cry from what it was
before the coming of the colonizers a century ago. The
contrast is most stark in the issue of ancestral land rights.
From a position of ownership and control over vast land
holdings by their ancestors, many of the descendants of
the original Ibaloi families of Baguio today have little or no
land left to call their own.
This situation is primarily due to the declaration of Ibaloi
lands as government reservations and public lands as early
as the American colonial regime. The American colonizers
grabbed lands in the early 1900s through the declaration
of the Baguio Townsite Reservation, for the purpose of the
construction of Baguio City as a summer capital and a rest
and recreation haven for American forces.
Developments quickly followed according to Architect
Daniel Burnham’s plan for Baguio City, displacing Ibaloi
families from their lands, homes and livelihoods. These
include the setting up of the John Hay Air Base in Ypit and
Lubas, the Demonstration Mines, airport and Philippine
Military Academy in Kias and Loakan, the Baguio City
Hall, Baguio Central School, Burnham Park in Kafagway,
the Baguio Dairy Farm in Chuyo, and many others. A later
development under the Marcos administration was the
carving out of the Baguio City Export Processing Zone in
Loakan.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
57
Other prime lots were donated by the Ibalois to the city
for the purpose of constructing public buildings like public
schools, public auditorium, as a contribution to the
development of the city. For instance, the lands of Mateo
Cariño in Kafagway, which happened to be where the
Americans wanted to set up the city center and Burnham
Park, were either declared as public land or donated by
the Cariño’s to the city government.
Kafagway
From the collection of Jack Cariño.
In addition, the colonial government imposed a new
system of titling of private lands through the Torrens title.
This paved the way for the sale of lands by the city
government to outsiders as a means to raise revenues for
the development of Baguio City. It was the “in” thing then
to own a lot or a vacation house in Baguio. Thus, many
rich families from Manila including Zobel, Legarda,
Caballero, Palma, Roces, Earnshaw, Roxas and Romulo
families acquired titles over prime real estate lots in the
City.1 The proceeds of these sales were used in the
construction of roads, government buildings and other
infrastructure in the city.
Meanwhile, the Ibalois were slowly pushed into selling
their remaining private land as a source of income and
means for survival. Many Ibaloi families around Baguio
sold lots to land developers who converted the land into
subdivisions and sold smaller lots to migrant settlers. Other
1 Boquiren 2008, 80.

58
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
lots were sold to institutions that set up schools, churches,
convents, housing projects and other structures. Until
today, this trend of selling land continues, as there is no
let-up in the influx of migrants wanting to own a piece of
land and to set up a house or a business in Baguio.
Some Ibalois have been able to keep hold of some of the
land they inherited and have invested money in building
their own houses. It is common to find an old Ibaloi
ancestral home surrounded by newer structures built by
family relatives within the same home lot. Others have
converted their homes into apartments or boarding houses
and earn income by renting these out to migrants, transients
or students in the city. Such is the case in Loakan, where
hundreds of workers of the Baguio City Export Processing
Zone have settled and rent rooms from Ibaloi home owners.
In Pinsao, you have the Coral, a wide lot rented out by the
Ibaloi Woolrey family as a place to hold weddings,
reunions, camps and other gatherings.
However, many of the younger generation of Ibalois in
the city no longer have any land to their name. They usually
reside with their parents, other relatives, in houses of their
spouses or in-laws, or rent a place to stay, just like other
settlers in the city. Some Ibalois are already looking to buy
land in the city or renting a place to stay within the city.
Meanwhile, the process of perfecting their papers and
titles as proof of ownership of their land is still very much
an unending pursuit for the Ibaloi. They feel it is very
important to have their papers in order, as proof or evidence
of their legal ownership to prevent others from claiming
their land. Various state instruments of land tenure such
as Torrens titles, approved survey plans and tax
declarations are held dear and carefully safeguarded. Yet
until today, some Ibalois still do not have legal documents
or titles perfected or registered with the Register of Deeds.
Since 1990, new instruments for the recognition of
ancestral lands were opened by the state through DENR
DAO 2 and later the Indigenous Peoples Rights Act (IPRA).
The Ibalois applied for CALCs (Certificate of Ancestral

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
59
Land Claims) using DAO 2, then CALTs (Certificate of
Ancestral Land Titles) using the IPRA, completing the
voluminous requirements and religiously following up their
claims in the NCIP (National Commission on Indigenous
Peoples) over several years. However, claiming of ancestral
lands by the Ibaloi through applications for CALC, CALT
and CADT (Certificate of Ancestral Domain Title) using
the IPRA has proven tortuous and frustrating. Worse, some
Ibaloi families have been duped out of their claims, while
others have had their lands issued to bogus claimants by
the NCIP in exchange for money or a piece of the land.
Ibalois are treated shabbily and with disrespect by non-
Ibaloi personnel of NCIP-Baguio, who make them wait for
long hours or dismiss them by saying that there is no budget
for the processing of ancestral land claims. They say that
CADT applications are the priority since this is the one
that has the budget. Following up ancestral land claims in
the NCIP is a time-consuming and difficult process that
has proven unsuccessful for majority of the Ibaloi claimants.
Thus, disillusionment is the prevailing sentiment over the
hopes raised for recognition of ancestral land with the
enactment of the IPRA.
Squatting by migrant settlers is also very much a
problem for the Ibalois, who feel that they are at the losing
end. Squatters without any legal papers to the land just go
ahead and build their houses even without building permits,
while Ibalois are given the run-around in the processing of
their papers over lands, which they already own. The Ibaloi
ethos of being peace-loving, passive, generous and
accommodating, is often mentioned as a reason why some
Ibaloi landowners have lost their land to squatters. But in
many cases, squatting is tolerated or even encouraged by
politicians in power. A Baguio Congressman reportedly
said, “Apay maid labi?” (Why is there no night?), meaning
they can do what they like under cover of darkness.2 Thus,
squatters’ shanties often sprout like mushrooms overnight,
whether in public reservations or private lands. Illegal
occupation of ancestral lands by organized squatters

60
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
syndicates has also become bolder and even violent during
recent years as competition for land in Baguio heightens.
Another major factor in the squatting problem in the
city is the declaration of resettlement areas by politicians
who prioritized their relatives, kakailian and political
supporters, instead of the actual occupants, in the
awarding of public lands through Townsite Sales
Applications and Miscellaneous Sales Applications. In
addition, graft and corruption in the awarding of Townsite
Sales Applications is rife, giving favor to moneyed, though
unqualified, applicants. Land in the city is being used as
an instrument of patronage politics, wherein traditional
politicians gain votes by offering or facilitating land
applications of migrant settlers and urban poor, who now
far outnumber the Ibalois.
It is a fervent hope of the Ibalois that their rights to
their ancestral land be fully recognized. Instead of being
treated like beggars in the processing of their land claims,
they hope to be treated with dignity as the original land
owners, whose ancestral land rights pre-date even the city
charter. By virtue of the doctrine of native title, all privates
lands held as such prior to the coming of the colonizers are
presumed to have been private since time immemorial. As
stated in the US Supreme Court decision written by Justice
Oliver Wendell Holmes in the case of Cariño vs. the Insular
government:
…when, as far back as testimony or memory goes, that
land has been held by individuals under a claim of private
ownership, it will be presumed to have been held in the
same way from before the Spanish conquest, AND
NEVER TO HAVE BEEN PUBLIC LAND.3
The basis for this doctrine, the case of Cariño vs. Insular
government over Camp John Hay, is found in Baguio itself.
The application of the doctrine of native title could not be
more appropriate than in the recognition of the land rights
2 Interview with Vetrino Macay.
3 Cariño 2008.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
61
of the Baguio Ibalois. Sad to say, this decision of the US
Supreme Court has never been implemented. Camp John
Hay has since passed hands from the American colonial
government to the Philippine government, and finally to
private developers Fil-Estate and Ayala Corporation. The
descendants of the original Ibaloi owners of the land where
Camp John Hay now stands are still seeking recognition
and justice until today.
While the Baguio Ibalois admit that they have already
sold much of their land, they still hope that those lands
grabbed from them illegally, fraudulently, forcibly or
deceitfully, as in the case of government reservations,
should be returned to them in restitution for the historical
violation of their rights to their ancestral land ever since
the American colonial period.
Furthermore, it is a common sentiment expressed by
the Ibalois that the present NCIP-Baguio personnel are not
doing their jobs and should be changed to those who
understand the history of the city. They want the NCIP to
treat Baguio Ibaloi claimants respectfully and fairly, not as
though they are a nuisance or as though their claims or
rights are inferior to those of other indigenous peoples.
NCIP commissioners and employees who are involved in
graft and corrupt practices, such as asking for a percentage,
millions of pesos or hectares of land in exchange for the
processing and approval of CALT and CADT applications,
should be removed from office and should be
administratively and criminally charged.
References
Boquiren, Rowena Reyes. 2008. “The Nature of the Land Problem in
Baguio City.” In: Ti Daga ket Biag Land is Life. Baguio City: Cordillera
Peoples Alliance.
Cariño, Joanna. 2008. The Mateo Cariño & Bayosa Ortega Story: A
Case Study of the Dispossession of the Native Ibaloi in Baguio
City. Paper presented at the Baguio Land Conference, University
of the Philippines Baguio, Philippines, 28-29 August.

62
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Political Division of Large Ibaloi
Communities and Lack of
Representation in Baguio Politics
Before the coming of the colonizers, the Ibalois reigned
supreme over their own communities, practicing their
own indigenous systems of governance and democracy.
The tongtong was a system of democratic consultation and
consensus-building practiced among the elders of the
community. Mutual concern and support prevailed among
the inter-related network of Ibaloi families, who helped each
other in community and domestic concerns. A number of
baknang (rich) families exerted their leadership over the
community and provided for the holding of occasional
prestige feasts as an opportunity to gather together and
feed the people.
During the final years of the Spanish colonial regime
until the early years of American colonial government,
Ibaloi leaders were given positions of authority befitting
their stature in the local governance structures of Baguio.
Ibaloi leader Mateo Cariño became a “Cabecilla” and
community headman under the Spanish government.
When General Emilio Aguinaldo established the Philippine
Republic, Mateo Cariño became the captain of the Igorot
forces and was appointed president of the town of Baguio.
He, however, declined the position and delegated the
position to his eldest son, Sioco Cariño.1
Sioco Cariño served as president for the township of
Baguio for many years and was the unofficial advisor of
1 Gutierrez, ed. 1955, 13.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
63
the Baguio government for nearly 40 years. During the early
years of independence under the Republic of the
Philippines, another Ibaloi, Dr. Jose Maria Cariño, was
appointed as the first city mayor of Baguio by President
Roxas. He assumed office from July 30, 1946 to April 11,
1950. However, he was the first and last Ibaloi mayor of
Baguio.
For a long time since then until recent times, no Ibaloi
has been elected to any position in the city government.
Councilor Leandro Cariño was appointed councilor in the
City Council on September 17, 1959 and served as city
councilor during the 1960s.2 However, since then until
today, Ibalois have found little space in the highest levels
of governance in the city. Atty. Jose Molintas and Isabelo
Cosalan are the only two Ibalois who were able to make it
as councilors of the city during the recent 2004 and 2007
elections respectively. In 2010, Atty. Peter Fianza was
elected into the City Council and Isabelo Cosalan was
reelected. Besides them, no other Ibaloi has held an elective
position in the city government.
Even at the barangay level, Ibalois are almost invisible,
except in the few barangays where Ibalois are concentrated.
As of 2009, only at least three of the 128 barangays in the
city had Ibaloi barangay captains. These were in the
barangays of Camp 7 (Marvin Binay-an), Irisan, and
Loakan. Only a small number of barangay kawagads in
the whole city were Ibalois.
In the old Charter of Baguio of 1909, there is a provision
for the formation of an Igorot Advisory Council to be
composed of traditional leaders and elders in Baguio. This
body is supposed to be consulted by the City Council on
affairs of the city. However, this Igorot advisory council
has never been convened during the 100 years that the
Baguio Charter has been in effect. It remains a paper
provision that has never been implemented.
2 Ibid, 274.

64
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
The minoritization of the Ibalois in Baguio is a result of
the rapid in-migration of outsiders into the city in search
of work, education and a place to call home. The attraction
of Baguio as a tourist, education, commercial and
government center serves as a magnet for migrant settlers
coming from different parts all over the country. Today,
migrant settlers far outnumber the native Ibalois in the
estimated 300,000 population of the city. Thus, Ibalois are
at a disadvantage numerically when it comes to ethnic votes
during elections.
However, the marginalization of the Ibalois in the
political scene of Baguio is not simply a consequence of
their minoritization in terms of numbers in population. It
is also a result of conscious political maneuvers and
gerrymandering by the city’s administrators who took
moves to break up large Ibaloi communities. During the
term of Mayor Luis Lardizabal, he divided Loakan into
five barangays. Bakakeng, which used to be one whole
Ibaloi settlement has also been divided into five puroks.
Ibalois have since become a minority in these different
barangays and puroks. Likewise in Irisan, Ibalois in each
of the 33 puroks can be counted on the fingers of one hand.
It is therefore not surprising that a wish expressed by
the Ibalois during our conversations with them is that they
be given a voice in the political affairs of the city. As much
as possible and at the very least, there should be an Ibaloi
representative in the city government. At best, they said,
the mayor of the City of Baguio should be an Ibaloi.
Reference
Gutierrez, ed. 1955. Memoirs of Baguio. Baguio City: Summer Capital
Publishing House.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
65
Loss of Traditional Livelihoods,
Language, Changing Cultural
Traditions
It is a sad fact that traditional Ibaloi culture is fast fading
and the history in Baguio as an original Ibaloi settlement
is not well known. If not for the efforts of Ibalois themselves,
many of the present populace and even leadership of the
city would hardly know the history and roots of Baguio. It
is a positive development that during the recent centennial
celebration of the Baguio as a chartered city, a number of
Ibaloi leaders were among those recognized as Builders of
Baguio.
Traditional livelihoods of the Ibalois such as farming,
hunting and gathering, cattle livestock and poultry raising,
gold panning, fishing, stone picking and masonry have now
given way to daily-wage cash-earning occupations. Jobs
are hard to find in the city where there is cut-throat
competition in the labor market. Por dia or daily-wage odd
jobs are the usual livelihood of many Ibalois today, while
others are fortunate enough to have regular salary-earning
jobs that require an education and/or skills. In a city with
a population of 300,000, these jobs are hard to come by.
Thus, many have also sought work outside in Manila, other
provinces and abroad. Others who have lost their
farmlands in Baguio have bought farms in the lowlands to
till.
The Ibaloi language in Baguio is fading as fewer and
fewer people speak it as a mother tongue. Children of mixed
Ibaloi and non-Ibaloi parentage do not speak the language
as they are usually brought up speaking Ilocano, English,

66
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
Tagalog or the language of the non-Ibaloi parent. Only a
few Ibalois of Baguio, mostly in their 50s and above, still
speak the language. This fact is not a fault of the younger
generation who are sometimes made to feel inadequate,
ashamed or guilty for not knowing how to speak Ibaloi.
Rather, it is a real and alarming trend that needs to be
recognized and reversed among the Baguio Ibalois today.
Most young Ibalois were never given the opportunity to
learn the language at home or in social gatherings such as
the traditional kedot that are now rarely held.
Even original Ibaloi place names in Baguio are being
forgotten as new names are given by migrant settlers and
the government. Few know that Bakakeng is made up of
Shal-shal (an area was prone to landslides, hence was
named Shal-shal, an Ibaloi term that means easily eroded),
Balengavang , Sarok, Bengaw, Des-ang, Tihing, Dalshi and
Muting. Or that Loakan was once Duakan that covered
the areas of Camp 7 until Ngalngal. Burnham Park used to
be known as Kafagway and the City Hall area was called
Apdi before the American architect Daniel Burnham
designed the city.
Today, the Baguio Ibalois have to go through great
lengths to continue to practice their traditional religion.
A central figure in Ibaloi religion is the mambunong, a
priestess who serves as a medium of communication
between the living and the spirits of dead ancestors. When
a person gets sick, the mambunong performs rituals and
prayers to appease the spirits. She prescribes that certain
rituals be performed for various illnesses or misfortunes
and presides over marriage, death, and other religious
rituals. She is looked at as a very powerful person and so
people have to follow her instructions in order not to risk
displeasing the spirits of their ancestors and for them to
get well from illness or misfortune. If they do not follow
these rituals, they fear that something bad may happen to
them.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
67
Even while some express disbelief or irreverence of the
mambunong, they do not deny the efficacy of her power.
However, Ibalois who have been converted to Christian
religions now consider traditional Ibaloi rituals as pagan
and are prohibited by their churches from performing such.
Moreover, the powers and prescriptions of the mambunong
are now often denigrated as superstitious beliefs beliefs.
Not just anybody can become a mambunong. The
powers of a mambunong are said to be inherited from an
ancestor who was also a mambunong. A mambunong
becomes one only after having experienced and survived
extremely severe illness or hardship. Such was the
experience of Jane Wallang-Lucio, 64 years old, of Camp
7, Baguio City, (as well as another mambunong, the mother
of Anton Baday of Bakakeng) who became very sick and
grew very thin without the doctor finding anything wrong
with her. She got well only after being taught what to do
through her dreams by her grandmother, who was also a
mambunong. However, these days, people have expressed
regret that there are hardly any mambunong left. There
are only perhaps one or two mambunong left in Baguio,
which is why some Ibalois resort to inviting mambunong
from other areas when they need the services of one. Or in
the absence of a mambunong, they rely on their elders for
guidance on how to conduct the traditional rituals.
The practice of traditional Ibaloi rituals in case of illness
or death are believed to be very effective based on the
experience of the people. People have been known to get
well miraculously after performing the necessary rituals.
This is why Ibaloi families, particularly those who still
practice the culture taught to them by their grandparents
and parents, make it a point to follow the rituals prescribed
by their elders and the mambunong, in times of illness,
during the wake, after burial and other occasions. They
butcher the specified number of pigs and feed the
community in the performance of the cañao, distributing
pieces of pig’s meat to the clan members. Expenses entailed
in the performance of the cañao for the butchering of

68
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
animals and other rituals are considerable, which is why
families sometimes sell their property, land or borrow
money just to be able to perform the necessary rituals.
The mambunong herself performs her duties with
selfless sacrifice because she feels it is a responsibility that
was passed on to her by her ancestors and she will suffer if
she does not practice what she was taught. She also often
performs multiple roles—as a hilot and mansih’bok (who
determines the causes of illnesses, loss or other cases). She
is not paid for her work, although she receives meat from
the butchered animals, which she also offers to the spirits.
She is fortunate if the people who asked for her services
give her money to cover her expenses for transportation.
She should always be ready to be called at anytime even at
night when somebody is dying.
Burial of the dead in the public cemetery is done
according to a traditional system of zoning where areas in
the cemetery are specified for burying the young, the old,
those who committed suicide, or those who suffered a
violent death. Some Ibaloi families also bury their dead in
the backyard of the ancestral home. For the baknang, a
horse is usually butchered on the last day of the wake,
which is believed to carry the dead man’s spirit to where
he belongs. After several years, the bones of the dead may
be dug up, wrapped in a traditional death blanket and
transferred to another burial place or kept under the house,
where they belong. This is usually accompanied by the
performance of the necessary rituals and butchering the
specified number of pigs.
Today, the public cemetery in Loakan has been taken
over by the tombs of migrant settlers and by a private
memorial, Heaven’s Garden. The bones of the original Ibaloi
settlers have, gradually through the years, been transferred
from the cemetery, according to the traditional practice of
transferring the bones of dead relatives. In Bakakeng, the
public cemetery is also being increasingly overrun by
squatters and migrant settlers.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
69
Holding a kedot or cañao is a surefire way of bringing
the Ibalois together. As they say, “Nu tuay kad-an ni asok,
tuay daguan jo.” (Where there is smoke, that is where you
go.) Everyone is welcome to join the cañao and partake of
the meat and food that is prepared. These occasions serve
as a venue for story telling, getting to know your relatives,
chanting the ba-diw and dancing the tayao, playing the
instruments, and speaking the language.
Thus the cañao serves as an opportunity for the Ibalois
of Baguio to gather together to recall their culture and sense
of identity. These occasions are highly valued by the
different clans as a chance to meet their relatives and mingle
or socialize with other Ibalois. However, the cañao is now
rarely held because of the considerable expenses entailed
for holding such, with the people having to buy animals
and rice after losing their rice fields and pasturelands. It is
also now hard to find a mambunong or priestess to conduct
and preside over the rituals. These are factors in the
diminishing practice of traditional Ibaloi culture and
knowledge.
It is an Ibaloi belief that dancing the tayao and playing
the instruments solibao, kalsa and tiktik are sacred and
done only during special or specific occasions such as a
cañao. This is usually accompanied by the butchering of
pigs as an offering to the spirits of the dead ancestors.
Playing the instruments and dancing the tayao without a
proper reason or purpose is frowned upon by the elders
because it is believed to call upon the spirits of the dead
and may displease them.
This is the reason why not many of the younger
generations of Ibalois today know how to play the kalsa,
solibao, tiktik, dance the tayao, or chant the ba-diw. Even
on the rare occasions when the tayao is held during a cañao,
priority is given to the older and prominent people to dance
and play, according to a hierarchy or order defined by
tradition. The oldest and most prominent individuals are
called to dance first, followed by the younger and less

70
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
prominent ones. Oftentimes, the blanket never gets passed
to the younger generations, especially if there are many
elders, personages or government officials around. Thus,
there is little opportunity for the younger Ibalois to dance
and learn or practice dancing the tayao or playing the
instruments. The knowledge and skills of these traditional
art forms hardly get transferred from the old to the young
ones and are now in danger of being lost.
The ba-diw is an Ibaloi chant, which is a prayer at the
same time a form of story-telling that is usually done by
the old men and women during social gatherings. The
chant is composed extemporaneously by the chanter and
affirmed by the rest of the people through a chorus called
the asvayat. Chanting the ba-diw is a talent that is much
admired by others and is a way of imparting important
messages and wisdom to the listeners and the community
people. Today, the senior citizens of Muyot and Bakakeng
who usually gather regularly in fellowship, chant the ba-
diw as a form of entertainment and for telling stories among
themselves.
It heartening to know that there is now a growing effort
to rekindle Ibaloi culture, learn the language, and find
opportunities to come together to learn and transmit Ibaloi
knowledge to the younger generation. It is an expressed
wish among the Ibalois that they be given more
opportunities to unite and gather together, to tell stories,
chant the ba-diw and reminisce, to dance the tayao and
play the kalsa and solibao, and teach their children and
grandchildren about the traditional Ibaloi practices and
values of solidarity and mutual support.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
71
Initiatives of the Baguio
Ibalois Today
Going around the Ibaloi homes and communities in
Baguio, we encountered various efforts and initiatives
to revive, relive and recall the Ibaloi culture and rectify
past injustices committed against the Ibalois in many
different ways. We also learned of earlier attempts to unite
the Ibalois through setting up their organizations that
would help them process their ancestral land claims.
Aspulan, Inc. is an organization of Ibalois in Baguio
and Benguet, which was incorporated and registered with
the Securities and Exchange Commission on August 4, 2004.
This was just a little more than a year after it started as an
assembly of cooperating Baguio Ibalois who were worried
that if they, as Ibalois, do not get together, they would
continue to lose their ancestral lands. They also feared that
because of this, their kin would continue going away or
leaving the hometown, thereby dissipating the clans and
communities. They were concerned about the continued
deterioration of their values and culture as Ibalois, especially
in Baguio, and that their children did not even know their
relatives anymore and were intermarrying without even
knowing they were related. They were greatly concerned
that their original unities and organizations in the early
1990s, when the government allowed a window for them
to reclaim and document their ancestral lands, had turned
sour and had instead further divided their ranks. They were
deeply frustrated and helpless as the government continued

72
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
to deny them the recognition and the rights to their lands
and domain.
In the organizational assembly of Aspulan, more than
60 Ibalois enlisted their membership and elected their
officers headed by Peter Cosalan, Philip Canuto and Atty.
Andres Carantes. A priority identified by the organization
was to help each other in gaining the government’s
recognition and titling of their ancestral lands. This was
the time that ancestral land processing and titling for Baguio
was put on hold by the NCIP. Aspulan volunteered and
drew up a resolution to assist NCIP in delineating and
processing their claims and even spent for meetings with
the NCIP.
The efforts of Aspulan sort of died down and have still
to bear fruit in terms of actual CALTs issued and registered.
The organization has not been as active during recent years
and it has fallen on the actual claimants to follow up their
claims at the NCIP until its final registration at the Register
of Deeds.
Other organizations that
have been formed to follow up
ancestral land claims are the
Baguio Benguet Ancestral
Land Claimants, Inc. (BBALCI)
and the Heirs of Mateo Cariño
and Bayosa Ortega Foun-
dation (HMCBOFI).
Another initiative worthy
of praise and emulation is the
Chiva ni Doakan or Center for
Ibaloi Heritage and Loakan
History. The Chiva envisions
Ibalois and Loakan residents Young Ibalois of the CHIVA
as knowledgeable and proud (Center for Ibaloi Heritage and
Loakan History).
of their heritage, through
documentation and education
about the Ibaloi heritage of the

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
73
Loakan community. An early activity was the collection of
photographs and memorabilia from the Ibaloi families in
Loakan, and presenting these in a community exhibit.
Presently, the Chiva is busy training the young Ibalois of
Loakan how to play the Ibaloi rhythm on the gongs and
the drums, and how to dance the tayao. This effort is being
supported by the National Commission on Culture and the
Arts.1
A recent intitiative is the Diwdiway ni Pinsao, that
organized a series of workshops resulting in the setting up
of a mini museum of Ibaloi artifacts, pictures, material
culture in Tam-awan, Pinsao that was launched in
December 2009. A traditional Ibaloi house has also been
constructed in the site. This is an interesting place for Ibalois
to visit and for the young ones to gather and learn about
Ibaloi culture.
Other individual initiatives directed at keeping the Ibaloi
heritage alive include the publication of various articles in
local newspapers, magazines, coffee table books and blogs.
An annual publication is the Baguio Yearbook by Heritage
Promotions, the media outfit of Jack Cariño and Chi
Balmaceda-Gutierrez. The magazine is a superb collection
of articles, photos, maps, and other interesting material
that bring back early memories of Baguio and feature
Baguio today in a new light—from the perspective of
Baguio people who care and want to stop the uglification
of the city.
When visiting Ibaloi old-timers Anton and Emilia Baday
in Kitma Village, we discovered the artistry and creativity
of Sofia Anton Houston, an Ibaloi woman with origins in
Muyot and Bakakeng. Sofia or Olga, as she is fondly called
by family and friends, has written interesting stories of her
recollections as a child and about family matters that vividly
portray Ibaloi life and culture as she was growing up. She
also started oil painting after her retirement as a school
1 Conversations with Vicky Macay.

74
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
teacher and has made numerous oil paintings of her favorite
places, people and things, mostly from memory, that serve
as snapshots of Ibaloi culture then and now. She has put
together a handy guidebook to the Ibaloi language, in the
hope of teaching her grandchildren and other young Ibalois
to speak the language that is now in danger of slowly dying
out. The Handy Guidebook to the Ibaloi Language was
recently published by the Philippine Task Force for
Indigenous Peoples Rights and Tebtebba as a contribution
towards reviving the Ibaloi language.
In August 2008, a Baguio Land Conference was
organized by the Cordillera Peoples Alliance, UP Baguio
Cordillera Studies Center and Tongtongan ti Umili with
the support of Tebtebba and the Baguio City Council
Committees on Laws and Lands. It was attended by key
representatives of peoples organizations, NGOs, the
academe and government officials. The conference was
instrumental in educating the public and bringing to the
attention of Baguio officials and leaders the issue of Ibaloi
ancestral land claims in Baguio. The conference came up
with various resolutions, among which was to conduct
thorough studies towards arriving at a solution to the
Baguio land problem and to work for the recognition and
promotion of Ibaloi indigenous culture.
This conference led some Ibaloi leaders to lobby the city
council to recognize the important role and contribution
of the Ibalois in the development of the city. This sustained
lobby campaign was successful in getting a symbolic
recognition of the Ibalois from the city government, if not
total restitution. As a consequence of the lobby, two city
council ordinances were passed, setting aside an area of
Burnham Park as Ibaloi Heritage Park and declaring
February 23 of each year as Ibaloi Day. February 23, 1909
is the date of the decision by the US Supreme Court in the
case of Cariño vs. Insular government that established the
doctrine of native title or the recognition of private
ownership by the Baguio Ibalois of their ancestral lands
since time immemorial.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
75
Celebration of First
Ibaloi Day, Feb. 23,
2010 at Ibaloi
Heritage Park in
Burnham.
February 23, 2010 was a historic day for the Baguio
Ibalois as they celebrated the first-ever Ibaloi Day in Baguio,
with the theme “Isimphet Tan Itakshel e Shayaw Tayo.” This
event was a concerted and collective effort of the different
Ibaloi clans to come together to remember their history and
identity, practice their culture and rekindle their unity.
Clans and individuals donated ceremonial pigs that were
butchered and cooked in the traditional style. Demshang,
kintoman, ava, dukto and tapey were passed around to
feed the crowd, composed of old and young Ibalois coming
in their kambal, devit or shenget, who had gathered at
Kafagway (now known as Burnham Park) for the occasion.
Ibalois beat the solibao, tiktik and kalsa and danced the
tayao and bendian. Elders took turns telling stories and
chanting the ba-diw. The different clans planted pine tree

76
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
seedlings around the park, which they intend to care for
until these grow into tall pine trees symbolizing the
continuity of their clan. A time capsule was buried in the
park led by the Ibaloi elders to mark the beginning of the
development of the area as an Ibaloi heritage site. The
Handy Guidebook to the Ibaloi Language was launched
and distributed to the Ibaloi clans present to encourage
them to speak the language and teach it to the younger
generation. A map of Baguio was put up containing the
original Ibaloi place names and the new place names in
the city for people to correct and add on what they know.
The atmosphere of the affair was celebratory and felt just
like the traditional kedot, with the program and other
various activities going on and everyone just having a good
time. It was a day to remember as the Baguio Ibalois, even
then, already looked forward to celebrating the next Ibaloi
Days in the years to come.

Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being
77
About the Authors
Sofia Olga Anton is a native Ibaloi of Baguio and Itogon.
She is a recently-retired teacher, and has taken up writing and
painting in her senior years. She authored the Handy Guidebook
to the Ibaloi Language, published in 2010.
Rose Camilo Calatan is an Ibaloi of Baguio and Kabayan.
She belongs to the Mariano-Batil clan. She is a retired teacher and
an advocate of sustaining the rich Ibaloi culture.
Jill Cariño belongs to the Ibaloi Cariño clan of Baguio City.
A long-time activist for indigenous peoples’ rights, she is
presently the convenor of the Task Force on Indigenous Peoples
Rights, a national network of NGOs advancing the cause of
indigenous peoples.
Gina Binayan-Kiswa belongs to the Coljan, Buyoc-Payat,
Barot Binay-an and Baday clans. She resides in Bakakeng.
Vicky Macay belongs to the Shakshahan-Batil clan of
Loakan, Baguio City. She is an active leader in many Ibaloi and
indigenous peoples’ organizations, including Loakan Farmers
Association, Baguio-Benguet Indigenous Cultural Communities,
Onjon ni Ivadoy, Aspulan and KASAPI (Katutubong Samahan sa
Pilipinas).
Roger Sinot belongs to the Cosdak and Dhankas clans in
Baguio and Nangalisan. He is a businessman, and earlier served
as government employee, OIC Barangay Captain and
schoolteacher. He is president of Tadiangan Nangalisan Hydro
Ancestral Landowners Association (TNHALA) and the Batuan
Coplo Lumecneng Farmers Association (BCLFA).

78
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being

78
Ibaloi Conversations on Identity, Community and Well-being


Document Outline

  • IBALOI CONVERTIONS on IDENTITY, COMMUNITY and WELL-BEING
    • TABLE OF CONTENTS
    • Introduction
    • CHAPTER ONE: STORIES OF THE IBALOIS INBAGUIO CITY
    • CHAPTER TWO: FAMILY MATTERS ANDRECOLLECTIONS
    • CHAPTER THREE: PROBLEMS AND HOPES OF THEBAGUIO IBALOIS TODAY
    • About the Authors
    • BACK COVER