“THIS is my home,” remarked a smiling Yvis Leyto on reaching the communal village of the Alangan Mangyan, secluded in the upland forest near Sablayan, a coastal town in Occidental Mindoro that stretches to the Apo Reef National Park, which protects the second largest contiguous coral reef in the world. »A2
But Leyto is no ordinary Mangyan, the indigenous people who originally inhabited the island, and known for their unique culture as a “gentle people.” His college degree sets him apart from the indigenous community, which has been struggling to preserve its traditional beliefs and practices.
Leyto, however, confided that he was adopted when he was six by local officials in Barangay Buenavista, where their community was classified as a sitio in the local municipality. He decided to return home eight years ago after completing a four-year course in fisheries management at the Laguna State Polytechnic University in Los Baños.
He also opted to work first with the provincial government, which provided him an opportunity to join the Indigenous People’s Affairs Office in his hometown.
His personal success serves as an inspiration and a positive example for other indigenous people, showcasing the potential for their growth, empowerment and advancement within their community.
According to Leyto, they call themselves “Alangan,” simply because they want their own identity since their ancestral villages are found near the border that divides the two island provinces of Mindoro, which has seven other major Mangyan tribes.
Unlike some of the tribes which are fast being absorbed into the mainstream culture, he said they continue to be a people thriving in a subsistence economy, with activities focused for their own need, rather than the market.
“We have learned to survive through the traditional charcoal making, kaingin farming and the planting of kamoteng kahoy and kamoteng baging for our food,” he said.
“But don’t get us wrong. We have already learned to cope with the challenge of the mainstream culture [on the island],” he added.
Leyto then offered to guide us around his community village, if only to show to the “Tagalogs”—as they call the local migrants—“what makes us as a community.”
Preserving traditional practices
THE Mangyans, he said, are determined to preserve their traditional practices that were passed down through generations, including their own system of governance and justice.
Although they were never a united people, each of the communities among the eight major indigenous people (IP) groups has an elected leader they now call “mayor” with a lupon—their council of elders.
They have no royalty, but Leyto considers himself privileged since their leader is now his brother-in-law, while his father has been a long-time member of their lupon.
During the pandemic, he said, the Mangyans got their fair share of ayuda, but what his community really appreciated was the completion of their own concrete basketball court. “We are a proud people. We have known how to survive in any calamity because we have the forest,” he said.
They even had their own concoction of local herbs and barks of trees for their medicine to prevent a surge of the Covid virus in their communities.
To ensure peace and order, the Mangyans continue to adhere to their pangaw—which literally means handcuffs, comprised of the rules and punishments that guide them for their moral values and practical legal system.
For instance, Leyto said, contrary to popular beliefs, the Mangyans are prohibited from being involved in polygamous relationships. An adulterer, he pointed out, will be stoned and whipped by a rattan cane as punishment, apart from being locked during his trial in an actual pangaw, a wooden structure that locks the convicted person’s feet and hands, until he has served his prison sentence.
A person accused of theft is given a chance to prove his innocence in a trial by ordeal. He is asked to hold a stone in boiling water and if he doesn’t feel the pain, then he is deemed innocent of the crime.
Declining culture
STILL, some of their elders concede that challenges to their culture, such as modernizing and increasing interaction with external influences, is contributing to their decline.
Dado Dalisog, a 50-year-old member of the Siraya Mangyan, said that while they have no known religion, they have begun opening their village near the capital town of Mamburao to a Korean “missionary” group—only to find out that regular visits from some prominent members who provided them old clothes were only a ploy to showcase them as an “evangelized people” so that the sect could collect money from their flock.
“Wala kaming problema sa relihiyon [We don’t have any problem with religion],” noted Dalisog, who confided that he recently joined the Iglesia ni Cristo. “Huwag lang abusuhin ang aming pagmamabuting loob [Just don’t abuse our being warm-hearted].”
While acknowledging it is difficult to sustain their old ways, he expressed the hope their people would continue to adhere to a peaceful life. The Mangyans, he pointed out, were never involved in any tribal war.
Dalisog said the Mangyans always practiced “barter” in peddling their forest products until one government agency recruited them into an upland community program in the early ’90s. In exchange, they received money through government officials and “people’s organizations” after being recruited to work in forest protection and conservation.
“Hindi namin naiintindihan ang pera, kaya siguro lagi kaming niloloko [We really don’t understand money, perhaps that’s why we are often fooled],” Dalisog said, recalling how some of their people started selling bulk of their forest products in exchange for cash or cheap products from the market.
The local elders explain that they were vulnerable to such exploitation since many of their people have learned to appreciate money to cope with modern times, particularly for buying cell phones, which they found to be the best alternative to the television—the long-aspired-for appliance they never had.
“Siguro ’di naman kami inaapi ng mga Tagalog [as they call the migrants]. Kaya lang kung minsan hindi maiwasan ang diskriminasyon lalo’t di nakakapag-aral ’yung mga katutubo [Perhaps we’re not really being mistreated by the Tagalogs, but sometimes discrimination can’t be avoided when most of the indigenous people are uneducated],” according to Leyto, whose task as a local government worker is to ensure that municipal services reach the Mangyan communities.
For several years now, he said, in their village alone, a day-care center has been operating to cater to toddlers until they reach Grade 2 before they enroll in nearby public elementary schools.
But he concedes that being a scholar has always been a struggle for the Mangyan who are seeking higher education, since all applications have to be validated by the Municipal Social Welfare and Development Office.
Still, the Mangyan elders believe that there is no option but to encourage their people to study if they are to overcome potential barriers related to cultural preservation and socioeconomic factors.
It seems counterintuitive, but from his experience, this much can be said: to survive and preserve their way of life, they must learn how the “outside world” lives.
Image credits: Joel C. Paredes