History of Dupax (Part 3): Heads of the Town (1801-1898)

1801 -- Lorenzo Solano
1802 -- Mariano Fernandez
1803 -- Miguel Bautista
1804 -- Tomas Guinir
1805 -- Juan Nepomoceno
1806 -- Estanislao de Poloma
1807 -- Dionicio Telmo
1808 -- Juan Salirungan
1809 -- Tomas Manuel
1810 -- Mariano Fernandez
1811 -- Bentura Pitlajon
1812 -- Miguel Bautista
1813 -- Dionicio Telmo
1814 -- Miguel Bautista
1815 -- Manuel Salazar
1816 -- Juan Salirungan
1817 -- Miguel Boada
1818 -- Tomas Manuel
1819 -- Esteban Guzman
1820 -- Cristobal Melendez
1821 -- Miguel Bautista
1822 -- Juan Salirungan
1823 -- Bartolome Salgado
1824 -- Tito Salirungan
1825 -- Manuel Salazar
1826 -- Santiago Telmo
1827 -- Esteban de Guzman
1828 -- Cristobal Melendez
1829-1830 -- Miguel Bautista
1831 -- Martiniano Guinir
1832 -- Juan Manuel
1833 -- Mariano Laccay
1834 -- Isidro Boada
1835 -- Cristobal Melendez
1836 -- Domingo Salirungan
1837 -- Miguel Bautista 
1838-1839 -- Tito Salirungan
1840 -- Genedio Dallot
1841 -- Juan Manuel
1842 -- Tito Salirungan
1843 -- Gregorio Pating
1844 -- Antonio Yaranon
1845 -- Pablo Pitlajon
1846 -- Juan Pating
1847 -- Genedio Dallot
1848 -- Juan Manuel
1849 -- Mariano Guinir
1850 -- Pablo Pitlajon
1851 -- Isidro Boada
1852 -- Pedro Castaneda
1853 -- Martiniano Guinir
1854 -- Ciriaco Nadal
1855 -- Pedro Castañeda
1856 -- Isidro Boada
1857 -- Pablo Pitlajon
1858 -- Felipe Salirungan
1859 -- Pedro Castañeda
1860 -- Francisco Bauzol
1861 -- Liborio Blanco
1862 -- Vicente Alarcon
1863-1866 -- Pedro Castañeda
1867 -- Vicente Alarcon
1867-1868 -- Liborio Blanco
1869-1870 -- Juan Dallot
1871-1872 -- Vicente Melendez
1873-1876 -- Liborio Blanco
1877-1878 -- Mariano Guinir
1879-1880 -- Victor Boada
1881-1882 -- Liborio Blanco
1883-1884 -- Felix Castañeda
1885-1886 -- Victor Boada
1887-1890 -- Felix Castañeda
1891-1892 -- Pedro Maddela
1893-1894 -- Mariano Guinir
1895-1898 -- Felix Castañeda

History of Dupax (Part 2): Heads of the Town (1732-1800)

[NOTE: This is a continuation of the verbatim transcription of the 11-page  HISTORY AND CULTURAL LIFE OF DUPAX found in the files of the Isinay teacher Vicente M. Castro. As mentioned in Part One, the document was undated and anonymously authored.  The Acknowledgment found on Page 11 however says -- "The committee who gathered the data found in the foregoing pages hereby acknowledge with gratitude the invaluable information given by Ex-Governor Alfonso Castañeda (and) Mr. Tomas Liquigan."] 

MANDALITO, an Ilongot (Mala-at), was appointed as the first capitan (head) of the town. The following is the chronological order of all the town heads (capitanes municipal, governadorcillos, presidents, and mayors) of Dupax:

1732 -- Mandalito, an Ilongot
1733 -- Ibarrat, an Igorot
1734 -- Inyu, an Ilongot
1735 -- Ajamus, an Igorot
1736 -- Tiun Pising, an Isinay
1737 -- Laccay (first name Diego was given later)
1738 -- Maningding
1739 -- Santiago Magalito (a baptized native)
1740-1741 -- Juan de los Santos
1742-1746 -- Agustin Aboloj (Capitan); Santiago Magalito (Vice Capitan)
1747-1748 -- Miguel Acejos
1749 -- Agustin Palo
1750 -- Geronimo Iraddaya
1751 -- Pablo Bueyan

An Ilongot, an Igorot, and a boy with probably Isinay blood pose for the camera with the statue of Mandalito in the background. [April 2011 photo by charlz castro]



1752 -- Geronimo Iraddaya
1753 -- Juan Dumaing
1754 -- Alonso Abioj
1755 -- Luis Ibarrat
1756 -- Paulino Iritan
1758 -- Juan Dumaing
1759 -- Pedro Mernaj
1760 -- Diego Laccay
1761 -- Jose Iritan
1762 -- Felipe Buyaya
1763 -- Diego Iritan
1764 -- Nicolas Ironge
1765 -- Tomas Gawaan
1766 -- Cristobal Irado
1767 -- Jose Acumos
1768 -- Nicolas I-iyon
1769 -- Domingo Lindon
1770 -- Miguel Mitawe
1771 -- Tomas Gawaan
1772 -- Juan Salgado
1773 -- Miguel Salirungan
1774 -- Santiago Dorduya
1775 -- Mariano Fernandez
1776 -- Vicente de los Santos
1777 -- Mariano Solano
1778 -- Dionicio Telmo
1779 -- Tomas Escobedo
1780 -- Vicente de los Santos
1781 -- Mariano Fernandez
1782 -- Mariano de los Santos
1783 -- Dionicio Telmo
1784 -- Juan Nepomoceno
1785 -- Jose Flores
1786 -- Juan Salgado
1787 -- Estanislao de Poloma
1788 -- Lorenzo Solano
1789 -- Dionicio Telmo
1790 -- Juan Nepomoceno
1791 -- Liborio Londang
1792 -- Esteban de Poloma
1793 -- Lorenzo Solano
1794 -- Mariano Fernandez
1795-1796 -- Juan Salirungan
1797 -- Mariano Fernandez
1798 -- Dionicio Telmo
1799 -- Miguel Salgado
1800 -- Jose Flores

History of Dupax (Part 1): How the Town Got its Name

[NOTE: I would not like April to fly away completely -- like a covey of tulin moving on to other payaws once harvesters sickle all the rice panicles and leave the rice-eating birds nothing more to feast on in their earlier feeding ground -- without a peep-squeak on Dupax, such as why it celebrates its fiesta in April instead of May like many other towns. Well, as shown in the following excerpt from an 11-page document titled HISTORY AND CULTURAL LIFE OF DUPAX, it is simply because the founding of Dupax took place in an April -- April 22, 1731 to be exact. I just rediscovered the document in my files and found it is a mother lode of info on Isinay country that are worth revisiting even if only for this blogsite. Incidentally, the brittle, yellowing and by itself a historic piece of document was entrusted to me in 2008 yet by my mother, Magdalena Pudiquet Castro, who found it in the files of my deceased father, Vicente Mambear Castro. Here's Page 1 of the said "artifact" which carries no author nor even publication date but which, based on a list of Dupax mayors it contains, was most probably written and typewritten in 1951, the year I was born.]

DUPAX IS THE present official name of the town which was once a very fertile hunting ground of primitive people in the southeastern part of Nueva Vizcaya.

The name originated from the Isinay word "dopaj" which means lying down with complete relaxation as did the first hunters after heavy meals which consisted mostly of the meat of wild animals. This was believed to be the common sight in Dupax in the days of old.

The first known settlers were the Mala-ats and the Igorots with Dayag and Tiun Pising as their respective leaders or heads. Most of the Igorot tribe were the Isinays who were known to have come from Pantabangan and from the Burobor mountains. This tribe was more civilized than the Mala-ats.

Religious missionaries of the Agustinian Order arrived at the place as early as in June 1726 under Fathers Nicolas Norbante and Agustin San Juan. These priests stayed with each of the hostile groups and tried to convince them to come down and live together at the place now called Dupax, and at the same time took steps for their conversion into the Christian fold.

Spanish soldiers arrived later for the maintenance of peace and order while the missionaries went on zealously with their avowed purpose.

The real founding of Dupax took place on April 22, 1731 when Fathers Norbante and San Juan planted the cross in honor of Nuestra Señora del Socorro in a little chapel on a spot a few yards south of the present church.

Summer Me With Birds, Beetles, Grasshoppers, Dragonflies, Tadpoles, Fireflies, and Tamarinds

"What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?"

This quote, from the Welsh tramp-turned-poet W.H. Davies, might as well be the theme for this blogpost.

I used it as opener because I thought it sounds philosophical as it is rhythmical.

And also because it blends well with what able-bodied nature-loving Filipinos (including your Isinay Bird) should be doing this summer.

TV weather reports say the noontime temperatures now average close to 37 degrees celsius (a few notches near boiling point!) in many places of the Philippines. Not only that, the “banas, alinsangan, sobrang init” will be with us for at least three weeks more.

What we should be doing is to give ourselves a break.

"Get out there... ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains... run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space."

For once, let’s get out of our air-conditioned caves. Let’s go have a change of stale air, tiresome scenery, the same old people faces, and even the food and liquids we have been poisoning our systems with.

For once, let's give time and effort to go outdoors… where – as poets are wont to say – the skies are blue, the leaves are green, the water is crystal clear and cool, the fish are jumping, and the air is full of birdsong.

Time, indeed, to get away from the filth and the noise and the dog-eat-dog neighborhood we have been enduring for millenniums now.

Time to find a place – far from the madding crowd – to escape the sweltering heat in a way that will create sweet memories in the heart (if you belong to the young ones) or rekindle the dormant or almost forgotten ones (if you belong to the young once).

I know it’s not easy. But we might as well grab the opportunity to savor the birds, beetles, grasshoppers, dragonflies, tadpoles, fireflies, and tamarinds – while we can, while our expiry dates are not yet looming in the horizon, while God's creatures and other blessings are still out there.

The down-to-earth writer and environmentalist Edward Abbey has put it so well:

"Do not burn yourselves out. Be as I am – a reluctant enthusiast, a part-time crusader, a half-hearted fanatic. Save the other half of yourself for pleasure and adventure. It is not enough to fight for the environment; it is equally important to enjoy it. While you can. While it's still there.

"So get out there...and mess around with your friends, ramble out yonder and explore the forests, climb the mountains, bag the peaks, run the rivers, breathe deep of that yet sweet and lucid air, sit quietly for a while and contemplate the precious stillness, that lovely, mysterious and awesome space.

"Enjoy yourselves, keep your brain in your head and your head firmly attached to your body, the body active and alive, and I promise you one sweet victory over our enemies, over those deskbound men with their hearts in a safe deposit box and their eyes hypnotized by desk calculators.

“I promise you this: you will outlive the bastards. You will live to piss on their graves!"

Ansisilud, Kiaw, Kebkeb, Tariktik and Other Now-Rare Fauna of Dupax

A COUPLE OF weeks ago, while waiting for a tricycle in the waiting shed at the welcome point of Palobotan, Dupax del Sur, I saw an insect that I have not seen for more than five decades now. Here's one of the photos I shot of that creature:

Hornet shot in Palobotan, Dupax del Sur, on April 22, 2012

I have to Google-check this or ask help from an entomologist, but I guess this insect is either a hornet or a wasp, if  those two insects are different. 

Its almost two-inch length and reddish brown color nevertheless remind me of the rather large wasps/hornets that used to be common in the sandy-loam grounds of I-iyo/Palobotan when I was still, oh well, an insect of a kid in that Ilocano village upstream of central Dupax.

Ilocano-speakers call this particular stinger ansisilud then. I have yet to ask its Isinay name.

The ansisilud is different from the akut-akut (mud-dauber) that is colored black and imprisoned butterfly larvae in mud catacombs on corners of walls. The ansisilud was reddish brown and made holes on the ground and we feared them so much that when we see a hole nearby with the insect going in and out, we moved to other areas in the neighborhood or played other games.

Anyway, thanks to this chance encounter with a long-unseen creature of my boyhood, a stream of other now rare -- if not extinct -- creatures in my part of Planet Earth, oozed in a bitter-sweet manner in my memory. In no particular order except for their being categorized into fish, mammal, bird, and reptile, let me string (ubunen in Ilocano, tutu-on in Isinay) them down like newly caught mudfish for this blogpost.

FISH

Perch

Ar-aro is a small carp that used to be common in the rivers and ricefields of Dupax. Now no more.

Catfish
This refers to the native catfish called pattat in Isinay, paltat in Ilocano, hito in Tagalog.

Ikan

Earlier, there was talk of burasi and ikan. This ikan I only saw as dried fish bartered along with pindang (dried meat of ugsa or alingo) by the Ilongots that used to come downhill. For payment, members of this IP (historically known for their head-hunting practice and we Isinays used to call Ivilao, meaning “crazy”, but now officially called Bugkalot) accept salt, rice, and iron bars we presume would later be blacksmithed into sharp spears or bolos the better to cut Christian heads off when the bagbag (Erythrina) trees bring forth their blood-red flowers.

Ayungin
Ayungin in Isinay, Ilocano and Tagalog. A white and silvery fish that swims and feeds along with tilapia.

Eel
Dalit in Isinay, igat in Ilocano, palos in Tagalog.

BIRDS

Hornbill

Eyaw in Isinay, kalaw in Ilocano and Tagalog. 
The mountain clockbird. A hunter from outside Dupax dropped by Apong’s house once with his bloody catch – huge red bill, wings somewhat bigger than a roosters.

Tarictic
Tariktik in  Isinay, Ilocano, and Tagalog. Very noisy bird but our slingshots could not reach their kallautit tree perches.

Philippine Ostrich

Kebkeb in Ilocano. This must be the Philippine ostrich, said to be extinct. A large grayish bird that always went in pairs, making “keb-keb” sounds with their necks above the ricefields when fishing. Uncle Carting Manmanaas caught a pair in Mammayang once, using a tabukol. He didn’t even bother to call me to have a taste of the birds.

Oriole

Koyaw in Isinay, kiaw in Ilocano, kilyawan in Tagalog. Aside from their distinct yellow plumage which no other bird had, you won’t mistake these birds fro the sound they made in the mango trees.

Hawk

Labban in Isinay, kali in Ilocano, lawin in Tagalog.

Owl

Uwop in Isinay, puek in Ilocano, kuwago in Tagalog.

Wild Pigeon

Manaleban in Isinay, alimuken in Ilocano.

Wild Chicken

Kalatan in Isinay, abuyo in Ilocano, labuyo in Tagalog. 

Bee-Eater

Plep-plew in Isinay, pirpiriw in Ilocano.This is a beautiful bird that came around where ever there are honeybees.

MAMMALS

The mammals in the forests of Dupax were partly responsible for the town's name.

Deer

Laman in Isinay, ugsa in Ilocano, usa in Tagalog.

Civet Cat

Amunin in Isinay, motit in Ilocano, musang in Tagalog. Sometimes referred to as wild cat. 

Wild Boar

Bavuy si eyas in Isinay, alingo in Ilocano, baboy-damo in Tagalog. – Apong once talked of a variety with white-sided face. He called it bangor.

Monkey

Araw in Isinay, sunggo in Ilocano, unggoy in Tagalog. Sometimes alternatively called buengon in Isinay, bakes in Ilocano, matsing in Tagalog. – I heard local tough guys use the word buengon to refer to a not-so-popular instructor at St. Mary's and almost immediately we could guess that his side profile indeed was somewhat resembled that of a Cromagnon photo. These were aplenty in the days when Apong and company were still active kaingineros. In Mammayang, I used to delight seeing them walk in line among the runo and karabasa patches. I wrote somewhere that one pet even shredded my straw-hat once.

REPTILES

Chameleon
Banbanyahaw in Isinay, bambannagaw in Ilocano, hunyango in Tagalog.

Python

Ine^eyaddang in Isinay, beklat in Ilocano, sawa in Tagalog.

Skink
"Iraw an dioy si siina" in Isinay, alibut in Ilocano, bangkalang in Tagalog.

No, we don't have crocodiles in Dupax. Even as Dupax had been unexplored jungle country for many decades before the inroads of commercial logging, and even as Nueva Vizcaya may not be very far from San Mariano, Isabela, where remnants of the native crocodile (Crocodillus mindorensis) have been found and are now being protected, there have been no mention at all of the dreaded species in the earlier accounts written by Isinays or about Isinay land.

There are certainly a lot of stories that other Irupajs can contribute as regards any or all these formerly common fauna in Dupax. I'll try to invite them in my Facebook account -- to fish out their individual memoirs, en route to a collection of sorts.

Meantime, the next time I'll go to Los Baños, I’m going to visit the UPLB Natural Museum again, this time to get the scientific names of these wild creatures and further sharpen my mental images of them.

Pramdaken, Len of da Morning, Aymsoyang, Sopas da Boys and Other Songs We Sang as Kids in Dupax

WHEN I WAS starting school “I’m So Young” and “From The Can” were the popular songs in Dupax. Or so I thought, based on how many kids preferred to sing them. 

Back then we used the first words of the song as title. Thus, you would not find the two songs above in any list -- instead, they are “Diana” (sang by Paul Anka) and “From the Candy Store in the Corner to the Chapel on the Hill.”

Way back then, too, we used our Isinay and Ilocano pronunciations of the titles and lyrics of the songs. Thus, nobody minded when on rare public singing occasions such as weddings and fiestas, particularly their before and after parts when the microphone was free for "mayktes... mayktes..." by whoever was near the sound-system operator, one would answer Pramdaken or Aymsoyang when asked "Ania ti kantaem?" (What will you sing).

The National Anthem of the Philippines then was sang in English and I distinctly recall that at the Dupax Elementary School during flag ceremonies when I was in Grade 1 (after I transferred from Bambang) up to Grade 3, I loved that song so much that I even as I could not understand then what some stanzas meant, I would lip-sing them the way I heard older graders sang:

Len op da morning seldi seldi serning

Len dir en holi didi ar sols ador...

How did we learn our songs? First credit goes to Robin Angat, the only electrician and sound-system owner/entrepreneur then. His sound system did not only monopolize town fiestas and weddings but at times gave the St. Vincent Orchestra and the Eagle Swing Orchestra a run for captive audiences. Whenever it was hired, Robin's sound also lorded it over the whole town’s air. In fact, apart from the church bell and the Reyes sound system in December, Angat's music was the only sound you could hear all over Dupax. 

I digress, but up to this day I'm still amazed at how our ears during those days were working very well so much so that kilometers away we heard the kengkeng of the bells of St. Vincent Ferrer church. This was when the bells rang to tell the news of someone who just died, when they sounded the "koling" to tell kids and teachers that it was time to go to school (I'll write a separate post on this later), or when they summoned the devout to go to Sunday mass in a series of triple tang-tang-tang that, we heard, were codes for "Juan Dinu... umali at tu" sounded by the cantores' son Parasyo^ who was then chief sacristan and church caretaker.

I was in Grade 2 when Papa and Uncle Ermin each bought their own radio phonographs (as inseparable brothers, their Eveready battery-operated sets both looked alike and were of the same Fujiya brand). For many years these radios were a household fixture and from them we learned new songs via the Tawag ng Tanghalan program and the children’s singing contest aired every Sunday.

I’m not sure now, but the Manila-based stations that reached Dupax radios then were DZRH and DZAQ. I guess, apart from Robin's and the Reyes sound systems, these air stations could be credited for the talents of many Dupax singers when I was young. I was not able to join the amateur singing contests during Dupax town fiestas myself, but from the radio I learned "Run Samson Run," "Itsy Bitsy Teeny Winny Yellow Polkadot Bikini" and "High Noon", among many other songs.

Question: Who were the perennial singers in Dupax then and what songs did they sing? The following list is certainly incomplete -- sorry, it's been half a century -- but for now I recall the following:

• Samuel Bautista (current songs from Manila)
• RosieValdez (Isinay and Ilocano love songs)
• Abraham Reyes ("Gone for the Summer" and cowboy songs)
• Damian Guzman (good guitarist and sang "Sad Movies")
• Tony Felix (good at yodeling with "You Are My True Love")
• Armando Dalay ("Devil Woman" and Beatles songs)
• Romeo Solis ("Let Me Be With You" and other top hits)
• Ariston Laccay ("Wishing It Was You" and Beatles songs)
• Arlyne Castro ("Delilah" and Vilma Santos songs)

Aside from constant listening to the radio, we got the wordings/lyrics of the songs from the Bannawag (it had a section called “Agkanta Tayo Man”) and years before Jingle became a bestseller, we made do with Song Hits, Song Cavalcade, and Top Melodies. I do remember having received a Cortal song hits booklet from an audiovisual van that came to advertise and sell medicine. It carried the lyrics of “Jambalaya” and it was part of our home library for many years before its pages became ripped with use or were eaten by a baby sister and later used as kindling material by the house help.

IF THOSE OF you who know our family are wondering why all of my sisters (especially Arlyne and Abeth) sing well, it was because our parents were lovers of songs. Yes, both Mama and Papa were a big influence on our part of the Castro and Pudiquet clan.

Back then, Mama used to sing “Changing Partners” and “Tennessee Waltz” as lullaby for Merlie or Tessie or Judith. For his part, Papa sang “Come Where the Lilies Bloom” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” aside, of course, from his favorite Isinay song "Dattut Ittuwam" and his favorite Ilocano song "Bannatiran." 

It may have helped that Mama was always giving birth – she had to sing songs to put my baby sisters to sleep. Papa’s being a teacher, too, was a big factor because I guess all teachers worth their salt then had to teach music and thus are duty bound to have good vocals.

I cannot recall what songs Uncle Ermin taught at the Dupax Elementary School because when he was my teacher in Grade 5 our music class was handled by Auntie Tating (Tesalonica?) Guiab-Fernandez. When he did his daily routine of sweeping starapple leaves all around his one-block lot, however, I would hear him sing “Uwak says the crow nagdakkel ti ubetmo!”

How about my grandparents? I don’t remember hearing Apong Pedro hum a tune, honest. Nor have I heard him even whistle while we were astride his carabao or when it was sweltering hot in the ricefield and other farm folks would whistle for the wind to blow.

Inang, of course, was a singer  in her own right. She was good at singing the Pasion during Cuaresma. She also bought these booklets from Malasin that had stories in verse form about kings and princesses and, using the same Pasyon tune, sang the words as sort of bedtime stories not only for me and my cousins but also for my Apong Lakay. I also remember that when Merlie was still under her care, I heard Inang sing “Tralalala ha ha” with her in addition to the Ilocano lullaby “Lal-lal-lay tukak, ipusna dalag, limmagto pilat!”

The other adults then sang “Remember When” (along with its local churiwariwariwap of “tuduktuduken”) and the sad “A Tear Fell” that had an Ilocano version reminding of President Magsaysay’s death: 

“Ammoyo ni Magsaysay… napan idiay Cebu… 

naglugan ti eroplano… naibangbangga iti kaykayo.

Kaasi pay ni Magsaysay idi natay!”

ON WEEKENDS our part of Dupax became musical as Papa and Uncle Ermin competed with their full-volume playing of whatever 78 RPM and 45 RPM records that we called “plaka.” Uncle Ermin’s favorites then were “Fraulein” and “More” while Papa’s were “Mary Mary Lou” and “Susie Darling.” (I wonder where these collection items are now or what happened to them when the Fukiya phonographs were already not functional.)

Our love for songs deepened when Papa and Uncle Ermin again each bought ukuleles. One of Uncle Ermin’s katulong, Manang Virginia Madriaga, was a good strummer and it was she who taught me to sing and strum “I’m Gonna Knock On Your Door.” Uwa Andres Castro would often come to the house and also play the uke, ot pamaringana mot an mangarug si mariitar (use the opportunity to make friends with the young lady).

In Grade 4, I had an Isinay classmate named Rogelio Guinir who played the uke well. He must have imbibed it from his older brothers who owned a “bajo” (one-stringed bass with a gasoline metal canister for base) and were part of what we called then combachero that played during weddings and also did house-to-house "caroling" during Panagkakararua (Halloween).

Papa’s ukulele was colored pale yellow, had a clear varnish, and carried Hawaiian flower designs that were the “uso” in the 1960s. The instrument must have cost a lot because each time its walls/parts peel off, instead of buying a new one, he would buy white glue and we both would clamp the glued parts to hold the gaping pieces together.

We used the uke one time our Grade 4 class (1961-62), under Papa, had its turn to present a Monday flag ceremony program. I recall the piece we sand and played was Elvis Presley’s “Can’t You See” (“Wooden Heart”). Bruno Doctor played the ukulele, Roger Guinir brought his brother Etto’s bajo, and I played the selendro (harmonica).

When our ukelele was still new, Papa would use it on moonlit nights. He would sit by the window and sing all the songs he knew – including the Isinay songs “Osan Lavi,” “Dattut Ituam O Bilay U,”  “Kukkuyappon Maserot Podda,” and some improvised lines of the "Anino^" parts of which I remember up to this day thus:

Amunglan savung si lavay... anay

Susun bi-alar an navayvay

Mabves lan bebbevoy si lajay

Kada lavi an (na-olay).

The na-olay (I guess it means "limp" or "weak") is my addition -- I use it because, sorry, I could not now recall what was the exact word Papa used to make it rhyme with the other stanzas.

Incidentally, many Isinay kids then had their own made-up versions of the Anino. Yes, that's how creative many Dupax kids were then. After hearing actual poetic versions repeatedly sang in Isinay weddings, they would use their improvised anino^ to tease other kids. One version stuck to my memory, often addressed to a kid wearing fiery red shirt:

Abalayan si Kuwan Ito^

Nan-eeng si mandirito^

Toy immoy an nitaro^

Siri abalan da Uwa Nano^.

By the way, the same ukulele that my father used was also my cousin Peter Pudiquet’s favorite toy when he was a small boy. He would come from their house in Dupaj to stay overnight in our house in Domang and for hours he would strum the uke any which way while belting out “Panga… panga… inay!”

Arlyne borrowed a ukulele from her classmate Carmen Gonzales once. It was much sturdier than our first ukulele and played better music. It stayed with us for months, nay, a couple years, until it was recalled by Marsing, Carmen’s manong.

But while that stringed instrument was with our care, Papa and I varnished it. And I used it when I went "carolling" for tupig and other native delicacies during Kararua (All Saints/All Souls Day) in Iiyo. The same uke came in handy it when I was in third year at St. Mary's High School and I joined a group that sang the song “My Hometown” and "True, True Happiness" with the prop-wearing Arsenio Bautista of Bambang as lead singer and ukelele strummer.

When Baybee was fielded as candidate for Dupax Town Fiesta Queen, I sang “500 Miles” with the ukulele and fans threw coins for Baybee’s fund-raising. Mama and Papa had a duet with the song “I Don’t See Me In Your Eyes Anymore.”

Yes, children of Dupax today, half a century ago and long, long before the videoke started to rule the night sounds in Isinay country, we were already singers. 

And to my own children and would-be grandkids, long, long before the Sound of Music’s Von Trapp family sang their “Edelweiss,” we were already a family of singers!

The Road to I-iyo

(NOTE: This piece is a lost and found memoir that had a footnote of sort that says "Drafted 5:10-5:57 PM, New Year’s Day 2008." I thought of including it here in Isinay Bird, this time with photos, simply because if I were to write it again I would not be able to capture the thoughts and recollections that it recorded when I first sat down to write it.)

UNTIL NOW I don’t exactly know how many kilometers separates our house in Domang, Dupax del Sur, to I-iyo (also known as Palabutan to some Ilocanos and Panlobotan to Isinays), particularly the spot where my grandparents’ house used to stand. My best guess is 4 kilometers.

In my boyhood years, the distance varied depending on the route you took. One route passed through the Ibilao road, while the other passed either through Inociaan or Bagumbayan. The two routes converged near the bridge. The distance also depended on the season of the year: it was either shorter or longer during the rainy season when detours had to be made to avoid deep mud, no matter if you negotiated the road on foot or aboard a carabao-drawn kariton.

During palay-threshing season, the newly harvested ricefields would be “trespassed” to make way for temporary foot-trails or road for the tilyar/tiliadora (rice-thresher) to reach its target mandala (palay piles/mounds). We followed the tiyar trail and enjoyed the aroma of newly mowed (gapas) rice plants or the scent of garami (rice hay). Also heavenly was the soothing feel of mud clay on your bare feet compared to the rocuh pricks of gravel or pebbles when you took the main road.

It would be great drawing a map of the road one of these days. The map would indicate points of interest – or rather spots along the road that had a particular significance in my life history as a boy. For instance, the map would show the spot when I used to find lots of rhinoceros beetles… the point where Mama saw a mudfish once and asked me to dip into the water and catch it…. The bridge where other boys used to swim and I envied them but up to now, after a thousand times of passing through it, I only got to try its pool once…

There was also that corner where I almost got run over by a speeding logging truck while I was on my bulldog bike… near it was the spot where years earlier we found puppies (all female) said to have been abandoned or left to die by the Galutera family…. There was also the spot where one Maundy Thursday (1956?) the kariton driven by Papa fell on its side carrying both Mama (pregnant with Tessie) and Auntie Api (heavy with Larry of Fatima) because the mud was deep and its passengers all went to one side to avoid the bamboo spines….

The map would also indicate where lupao trees used to grow, across the road which stood a giant alukon (himbabao) tree always noisy with quarreling culeto and martin birds… Years earlier, near the place was a bamboo thicket where one day we saw a dead giant beklat (python) coiled several times and swarming with flies.

The road map would show other more memorable spots. One such point was the part of the river where one day, just for fun, my gang of sitio kids and I played sarep and got our hands full of bunog that we could not all catch, and so Apong Berto came and took the jackpot of the bigger and more fish catch using his sagap (triangular fishnet) in the river rendered shallow by our river-damming play. On the banks beside the spot stood samak trees the fruits of which the basi makers in the barrio gathered during panagdadapil (sugarcane milling) time to add flavor to their sugarcane juice fermentation.

The map would show points where I had my rites of passage as a slingshot-wielding boy, a river-loving kid, and a child in the barrio. It would show such part that branched out towards the place we called Daki (bamboo raft) that was witness to our leech-playing, swimming, diving, and underwater swimming lessons. There was also the lot of the Magaway family, part of which was a citrus orchard guarded by an old Ilongot woman named Kalnga who we paid a mere dies (10 centavos) or binting (25 centavos) for the privilege of gathering and eating all the kahel (orange) fruits we could for as long as we could.

Also to be indicated was the spot that had plenty of kitkitiwit… and the farm where I had my first delightful encounter with abal-abal (May beetles) that literally swarmed over my hair and my feet… the spot where once stood the first and only “asar” I remember having been put up by the barrio folk … the spot where we used to swim but which was later bulldozed  and covered by a logging-road making team, and it was my first time to feel very sad and sorry for the fish that I used to see abound… the spot further upstream where I used to do pole fishing but where one day my playmates Arthur and Duardo and I found hundreds of floating tilapia, dalag, ar-aro, gurami, and paltat fish – dead! – and I felt very bad at whoever heartless fool poured poison (Endine and Folidol, then later Sodium, were the more common ones used then) on the pond.

There was the spot where a kallautit (kalumpit) tree once stood and whose fallen fruits served as our snacks when we tired of swimming by the pual (fallen bamboo clump). The tree also witnessed my circumcision (performed for a mere bottle of gin by then I-iyo's mangngugit Apong Berto Lacandazo, younger brother of Inang Feliza) one early Thursday morning before I entered high school. Then there was the point where I got into a fistfight with Silin Molina (who later died of electrocution in Sulu when as a soldier he used live electric wire to hang his laundry, or so the story went).

I will include in the map where a tibbeg tree once stood, the fruits of which we used as daldalig, sardine-can cart wheels, and other such toys. Beside it was the site of the bamboo and cogon camp built by the xth Infantry Division one time the uniformed guys were sent on a mission to go after the Ilongots who beheaded some families up in the kaingin hills. Also near the place was the wooden bridge that served as gateway to I-iyo proper, which we used as diving board when we bathed there and under which Uncle Carting “Pagalmiduran” Legazpi, the local drunkard bully, swam naked and would show women passersby his dangling "dalag".

Also near the bridge was a shorter bridge (a culvert) said to be where Papa fell one night while on a bike, causing him to go sick for many months of unknown ailments and in the process become irritable and on many cases bent his irritation on me (more on this later). A giant pakak (antipolo) tree stood near it underneath which we would try our best slingshot shots in vain as the tree was so high and the tariktik (hornbill) and garakgak  birds even chose the topmost part of the tree for their perches.

Then the map would show the lumboy (duhat) tree used as tying point for calves or young carabaos waiting to be branded. Inang Feliza stripped off parts of the bark of the same tree and boiled them to cure my recurring stomach ache when I was a boy.