Travel & Tourism H-3H-2 Sunday, November 28, 2010
Editor
ISABEL C. DE LEON
Assistant Editor
MALOU E. ROSAL
Section Editors
Fashion / i • JOYCE L. FERNANDEZ
Home & Garden • DENNIS LADAW
Dining • GENE GONZALEZ
Wellbeing • ROWENA BAUTISTA-ALCARAZ
Moms & Babies • AMYLINE Q. CHING
Travel & Tourism • Occasions • Arts & Culture
lease do not take
photos without a
proper ritual...we
do not want you to
be harmed,“ Boyet
Reyes, a Manobo
who approached us from a small wood-
en boat, quietly told us in the vernacular.
Though said in a non-threatening man-
ner, it got our attention.
We were loudly taking group photos,
having just landed on soft earth after
more than an hour’s traverse through
the marshland via boats. I moved away,
transfixed at the surreal vista before
me. I’ve been hoping to explore Agusan
Marsh and its wilderness for a long
time. In my personal quest and capac-
ity to roam Mindanao and promote its
unexplored beauty, I have yet to see
one of the Philippines’ largest and most
ecologically significant wetlands.
The Agusan River Basin, located
in the northeastern part of Mindanao,
is the third largest river basin of the
Philippines (river length of 350 kms,
and total drainage area of 10,921 square
kilometres). That day, I was inside the
Agusan Marsh Wildlife Sanctuary (Bu-
nawan, Agusan del Sur), declared as a
Protected Area by virtue of Presidential
Proclamation No.913 (Oct.13, 1996), and
covering an area of 19,197 hectares.
It is also a recipient of Ramsar Site
Certificate (No. 1009 from a list of 1,923)
on November 12, 1999 as a Wetland of
International Importance.
At five in the morning, along with
students who won a field trip through an
essay writing competition, we boarded
low passenger boats while I was given
the rubber boat used for rescue pur-
poses. I joined this trip upon request
because of an invitation to be one of the
judges of an ongoing photo competition
about it.
We entered the river at the crack
of dawn, and as the boat pushed off
noisily in the dark, chilly wind pushed
against our faces. Nothing but the roar
of engines could be heard, and ripples of
disturbed waves. Ten minutes of peace-
ful journey through a thickening swamp
forest, my hair went damp and my equip-
ment began to moisten. We were enter-
ing a scene from Avatar or Anaconda,
depending on your wild imagination
and fear of murky swamps. A heavy, cool
mist permeated throughout the stream,
making the environment more dream-
like and unnatural. We passed thick,
strange silhouettes of menacing trees
shaped into gargoyles with branches
reaching out to you like claws. I was
internalizing my National Geographic
moment (if you wish for this job long
enough and dramatize it badly, they will
find you), poised with my two cameras,
making sure I missed nothing.
When the sun crept through dense,
cold haze, an orangey glow gave a dif-
ferent dimension of time and place in
the past. Great, no Photoshop needed to
even recreate this sepia scenario! After
more than an hour’s trip, we docked on a
riverbank and walked (saw an unbeliev-
ably huge okra in a garden patch!) until
we came across a vast field of lily pads.
Farther ahead, migratory birds said
to be flocking at these time of months
were hopping serenely upon water lilies.
Occasionally, a white long necked bird
identified as the Purple Heron alighted
gracefully on topmost tree branches.
We have now reached Sitio Panlabuhan,
Municipality of Loreto, the next town
after Bunawan.
But we go back to Boyet. The Mano-
bo datu, with his religious belief that
revolves around unseen spirits naturally
protecting their habitat and intruding
in human activities especially when
provoked, was speaking from the heart.
He introduced himself as the leader
of the floating community we inadver-
tently intruded upon, and would like to
urgently appease ancestral spirits by
lighting a candle, if we so willingly join
him. Inside the floating wooden school’s
empty classroom, we surrounded him
as he closed his eyes and prayed for our
safety in all activities while asking for
forgiveness at our awkward disturbance.
The small flickering candle on the table
indicated many pacifying ceremonies, as
its melted form was nearing its end.
Surreal and Breathtaking
Agusan Marsh
We dug through our bags and placed
peace offerings on the table with the
candle – coins, flattened Jollibee burg-
ers, biscuits, mineral water, Coke and
Tanduay bottles bought from a nearby
outlet. Outside, the mist had suddenly
cleared. Before us was a breathtaking
panorama of a vast lake whose reflec-
tions mirrored incredibly clear blue
skies and cloud formation. It was abso-
lutely, unbelievably a photographer’s
paradise. The ancestors were placated.
My companion whispered, “We should
bring them candles next t ime.”
Boyet took me out to the lake (Buk-
ogon and Kobasayon have merged
with Lake Kaningbaylan to form a big
body of water), two of us squeezed in a
narrow wooden vessel that barely fit
my hips. It was a very quiet, calming
atmosphere. Boyet regaled me with
stories as we leisurely headed towards
thicker blankets of lily pads. His com-
munity is composed of 20 houses and
families. Birds and ducks were freely
roaming around, probably among the
listed 127 bird species identified by the
Haribon Foundation in 1999 (10 of which
are threatened, and 31 endemic to the
country), apart from visiting species
avoiding winter in China, Japan, Russia,
and other countries. A Brahminy kite
(red brown sea-eagle) soared through
skies and I snapped a few shots before
it disappeared into an eerie looking for-
est swamp whose trees are covered in
mossy vines.
Boyet’s grandfather had told him
that in order to survive in this settle-
ment, you must have an anting-anting
(amulet, like a crocodile tooth) for safety
and protection. He talked about lone
tourists who dropped in unannounced
and unaccompanied. Unexplained mis-
haps occurred (near drowning, injury,
body pains, and other accidents). Years
ago, one known celebrity with a TV
show arrived with an environmental-
ist/photographer whose rolls of films
were destroyed when they went home.
A mysterious ailment would seize an
unlucky visitor, prompting him to come
back and beg for healing with tribal lead-
ers. All he wanted was respect for his
forefathers and ancestral domain.
His was one of several small com-
munities scattered in the vast marsh
land. Often, with the rise and fall of
the tide due to seasonal changes, their
homes would adjust, docked on bamboo
poles underneath and strapped to trees
with ropes. In a sanctuary where many
undiscovered species dwell, life was
uncertain for them as well. Last year,
the controversy of a 10 year-old girl
whose head was bitten off by a “monster
crocodile” (bite marks on the bayto --
Manobo dialect for banca, pronounced
beyto -- leave morbid imprints on dis-
play) prompted the whole community
in Lake Mihaba to be evacuated. After
a few months, the houses were back, be-
cause they know of no other way of life.
Stories of “Putol” abound, a notorious
and legendary 30-foot croc said to have
once been captured but had escaped
sans one arm, still lurking underneath
deep swamps.
Food and supplies are brought to
them by a komprador (seller) who
comes in regularly. Their diet consists
of fish (carp, tilapia, catfish), frogs and
kuhol (snail) and vegetables, or what-
ever is found in the rivers and lakes.
Several floating houses we passed by
were simple, others were more colour-
ful. Some created flower gardens on
windows whose houses were already
buoyant within a bog of water hyacinths
and ferns. In Boyet’s community of
Lake Kaningbaylan, in the old munici-
pality of Loreto, the floating school was
sadly empty of students, because there
was no budget for a teacher this year.
Tourists do not regularly drop by their
area because there are more accessible
floating communities.
Asked what their past time was,
Boyet replied, “Paminsan guapo ang
signal sa TV (sometimes the TV signal
is good)...unta karong Pacquiao fight
makatanaw pud mi (hopefully, this
coming Pacquiao fight we can view it
clearly)”.
On our way back to Bunawan, we
passed by locals on the riverbanks,
some doing laundry, cleaning boats or
giving their carabaos a bath. Children
were swimming, others curiously peep-
ing from windows. Each time we waved
our hands, shouting “Maayong adlaw,
agi lang mi! (Good day, just passing
by!)”, they cheerfully waved back with
smiles. My rubber boat captain pointed
to a narrow, dense tributary which
leads to the crocodile sanctuary. He
asked if we would like to go there. We
didn’t have much time left to go back
to Davao. However tempting it was, I
wasn’t Crocodile Dundee, and I was in
their territory.
An old friend of mine who grew up
there used to swim in the once clean and
clear river during his childhood. He was
also given a baby croc for a pet which es-
caped eventually. Today, you are lucky
to spot two or three crocs at the most,
heads barely bobbing on the surface
before disappearing into the muddy
chocolate-colored river. While they have
kept their distance, the locals made
respectful efforts by imposing a curfew
–no swimming and fishing between 6pm
to 6am, the most active time for these
nocturnal reptiles, most of which are
already threatened species.
In the very heart of this enormous
wetland may live the amazing “Wonder-
land” (a vast peat land of remarkable
dwarf trees whose heavy roots serve
as floating anchors, you have to step on
them slowly to reach into the thicket), a
diversity of fish, animals, birds, flora and
herbaceous plants, fresh water turtles
and endangered reptiles, and 59 of the
most scenic lakes, including shallow
ponds, rivers and rice paddies. Here ,
human beings also thrive within the
environment, trying to sustain their way
of life by coexisting in harmony with a
shifting habitat that surrounds them.
Outside their world, they are being
closed in by illegal logging, destructive
mining, and other manmade threats that
drive an old ecological system askew (or
a territorial croc to go berserk).
I ask myself, am I writing this article
to promote a beautiful refuge I want
others to experience, but inwardly hop-
ing to shield it away from opportunistic
exploiters? Or am I writing to create
awareness of a dying paradise before
it is too late? I am wondering myself,
even as I already have plans of going
back there again soon.
* * * *
(Jojie Alcantara is a travel pho-tojournalist and long time columnistbased in Davao City. A photograp her,solo traveller and an artist, she hasbeen writing and painting before sheexpanded her world through images.Exploring unknown islands in thearchipelago armed with her Canoncameras and asthma inhalers, herfascination keeps her rooted to hercountry and wishes everyone cansee its stunning beauty from herperspective. She shares her skillsthrough workshops, publications,exhibits and contributing materialsfor Mindanao tourism. Visit www.pbase.com/jojie_alcantara).
“P
Floating house
Text and Photos byJOJIE ALCANTARA
Agusan Marsh is a photographer's paradise
A foating house is tied to a tree and rises high depending on the water level
Boat trips in the early morning mist
Life in the marshland
Lake Kaningbaylan
Best to wake up early morning to catch sunrise in a mist
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