i am from bunga and payeo-
i learned these facts when i was 5
when mother took me to besao for a visit.
as far as i could remember,
the bus traversed the halsema highway,
a long and winding road sculpted on the ridges
and slopes of mountains and hills
at the center of the land-locked cordillera central,
beautiful and striking sceneries of summer day
were painted with sunshine and fogs hues
on the magnificent canvas nature.
after hours we started going up until we reached
a place of persimons, pears and etags.
'twas my first time to eat persimon and pear,
and they were all gorged down through my mouth
smoothly and easily as the botanical sweet-tasting juice
of Jove dosed my travel-weary young mind and body.
the road from sagada to besao was narrow,
bumpier and have some sharper curves.
when we passed sagada, it was something
like we've just passed the gate where everything
became a thrill in my senses,
the air was colder and the distances were grayer.
every bus stop felt like we've already reached our destination,
the further we moved the more tension and weight
would wreck my seat, it was until we've finally reached
the central when we happily alighted from the bus.
we traveled by foot and before we reached the place,
we first walked some century old foot trails,
a hanging bridge, camotal gardens and orchards.
when we have finally reached bunga,
i felt so natural in the place although some peers teased me
like i was a stranger in their place.
after some rest, the other children took me to the creek
where everybody's panning for 'sugar grains' with circular disc,
which was very different from what they use in the mines of my birth
where bigger panning board was being used for a different metal.
they would give me a fresh ripe avocado that tasted like milked avocado,
a bowl of sweet potatoes that were chipped and sun-dried
to make them taste even more sweeter,
other older children with some adults would take us younger ones
to the river pool to swim, since i was only 5 i just stayed at the shallow portion.
in the evening after meal, we, old and young ones would gather
around a gas lamp and share and listen to some stories
from surreal tales to mundane anecdotes.
in the morning, the hearth is alive, meal is being cooked,
live fireside chat would be heard from the folks preparing the meal.
the after-breakfast would be another toil in the farms and workplaces,
socialization sometimes would be done while working
to ease the hard works and boost productivity.
it was truly a priceless moment to be with relatives and folks in the native land.
when we left bunga, we first trekked kin-iway to visit other relatives,
after that, we moved on and were able to board a bus bound for baguio.
in baguio, we boarded another bus for the kaingin mines
where i have budded and lived in the layasan.
the progenitors were nomads and travelers,
they assumed many features while moving from places to places.
they passed their genes with memories of their history
thus the generations would not stay in one place also
as they're moving outward and bound to mix with each other
on this elliptical world of network and connectivity.
and from this viewpoint, the place called cordillera,
must be the gateway of an austronesian generation called igorots.
