Social studies and history taught me that the Aeta were among the earliest inhabitants of the Philippines who, over the years, managed to keep their cultural practices and traditions thriving, even to this day. Authors describe them as usually dark in skin color, small in stature, and curly when it comes to hair type.From this textbook definition, I recently took a leap toward a real-life encounter with the Aeta.
We called it sectoral exposure. For 10 days, I was given a chance to experience firsthand the life of the Aeta from Bangkal, Abucay, Bataan. The effect? A total reboot in the way I saw them.
The whole process was, however, not smooth sailing. Before we arrived at the resettlement site where the Aeta reside, I had a lot of questions. But the worries that stifled me began to wane the moment I entered the humble home of Tatay Cornelio and Nanay Marivic, who warmly welcomed me. They, with the rest of the foster parents, remained true to their promise to let me experience the traditional life of the Aeta.
One day, while the sun was at its zenith, they brought us to the river where they showed us how they caught hito or catfish. They did it with bare hands, and it looked like they were groping for gold. As we moved up the river, I realized that “pangangapa,” the term they use to describe the process, was no easy task. Imagine catching with your hands a slippery fish while trying not to get stung by it. In the end, for the Aeta, it is always about two things: risk or starve. The Aeta always have to take risks to survive.
“Our ancestral domain is our marketplace, hospital, and school,” said another Nanay as we walked on the rocky banks of the river. The ancestral domain she was referring to is the forestland, from where they obtain most of their basic necessities.
Later on, I discovered that the river where we were also serves as a giant lavatory for the Aeta. I experienced taking a bath and washing my clothes there. One time, I jokingly told one Aeta, “Dito, dalawa ang ligo ko. Naliligo ako sa ilog. Pag-uwi sa bahay, naligo na rin ako sa pawis.” She burst out laughing. Deep inside, I struggled to understand how access to basic necessities like water remains difficult for some of our people.
In the next days, I experienced a handful of other things for the first time. The one that stood out the most for me was gathering honey from beehives, not because it was fun but because the process was by no means easy.Marvin, the son of my foster parents, has been into honey-gathering since he was 14 years old. He told me that sometimes he, with some companions, had to spend hours and hours in the heart of the forest just to find beehives. At times, they would just stay by the river and wait for bees to go there for water. As these bees fly back to where they came from, Marvin and his companions would follow them until they located the beehive.
Running after bees is one thing. Encountering snakes and other potential dangers is another. Marvin’s life and those of his companions are always at risk, all for a bottle of honey that costs a hundred pesos.
Completing their education is also an ordeal for many of the young Aeta. The nearby secondary school does not offer a senior high program. Attending any of the schools or colleges downtown is a predicament, since the fare is even more expensive than the cost of food that can sustain them in a day.
Despite the struggles that they constantly face, the Aeta are indeed true vessels of the Filipino values we are always proud of. I saw how their lives are built on resilience, hospitality, and love. Even amid material poverty, they are among the most grateful people.
The Aeta have shown me a new face of reality — a paradigm shift, and with it, some important lessons that I know I will carry for the rest of my life.
One time in the mountain, Marvin told me to always be careful wherever life would take me. I told him he should, too, especially with the kind of work he does. But he told me: “Sanay na po ako sa gubat. Dito na po ang buhay ko.”
Those words tore my heart out. Before me was a young man who had every reason to complain and grumble at life. But he just showed me what deep gratitude and real contentment were.
All along, I thought that the hardest part of the sectoral exposure would be the struggle to constantly leave my comfort zone. I thought that it would be a herculean task to take down the wall that exists between the world I knew and that of the Aeta’s. I thought that it would be the series of back-and-forths to take a bath or wash some clothes in the river, or the nerve-wracking experience of dealing with honeybees, or even the silly list of inconveniences that I was worried about before the activity started.
Surprisingly, of all these experiences with the Aeta, it was leaving in the end that turned out to be the hardest part, because it felt as though I was leaving home. Here was an experience that truly went beyond textbook definitions.
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Amante A. Julaton, 23, is a seminarian of the Congregation of the Poor Servants of Divine Providence.