We enter the Mountain Province.--Payawan.--Kiangan,
its position.--Anitos.--Speech of welcome by Ifugao
chief.--Detachment of native Constabulary.--Visit of Ifugao
chiefs to our quarters.--Dancing.
We were now on the borders of the Mountain Province; literally one more
river to cross, and we should turn our backs on Nueva Vizcaya. And
with regret, for it is a beautiful smiling province, of fertile
soil, of polite and hospitable people, of lovely mountains, limpid
streams and triumphant forests. In Dampier's quaint words, spoken of
another province, but equally true of this one, "The Valleys are well
moistened with pleasant Brooks, and small Rivers of delicate Water; and
have Trees of divers sorts flourishing and green all the Year." [20]
Its people lack energy, perhaps because they have no roads; it may be
equally true that they lack roads because they have no energy. However
this may be, the province can and some day will grow coffee, tobacco,
rice, and cocoa to perfection; its savannahs will furnish pasturage
for thousands of cattle, where now some one solitary _carabao_ serves
only to mark the solitude in which he stands.
We crossed the stream about seven in the morning, May 1, and opened
out on an immense field, which we estimated at about thirty-five
hundred acres, a whole plantation in a ring fence, and offering not
the slightest suggestion of the tropics in its aspect. The ground now
broke and we went on down to a bold stream so deep that those of us
riding ponies got wet above the knees and were almost swept down by
the current. The _cogon_ grass in this river bottom was the tallest I
ever saw, some clumps being well over twenty feet high. Then we began
to climb till we reached another divide, across the stream at the
foot of which was Payawan, our immediate objective. Payawan consists
of two shacks and a name. Here we were to have had our first meeting
with the clans of the Ifugao, but through some misunderstanding they
took the place of meeting to be at Kiangan, some, miles further on;
so we all rested a while, and some of us took a swim in the little
river we had just crossed, finding the water on first shock almost
cold, but delightful beyond belief. Cootes and I were quite satisfied
with the pool we found near the shack, but Strong and the rest thought
they saw a better one downstream, so they crawled in the water around
a small cliff, reached their pool, and then had to walk a mile and
a half through the _cogon_ and in the sun to return, there being no
getting back upstream. Now, if there is anything else hotter on the
face of the earth than a walk through the _cogon_ in the dry season
with the sun shining vertically down, it has yet to be discovered.
At Payawan we were met by Captain Jeff D. Gallman, P. C,
Lieutenant-Governor of the Sub-province of Ifugao, accompanied by
one of his chieftains, who made a splendid picture in his barbaric
finery. Erect, thin of flank and well-muscled, he had a bold, clear
eye and a fearless look; around his neck he wore a complicated necklace
of gold and other beads; each upper arm was clasped by a boar's tusk,
from which stood out a plume of red horse-hair. His gee-string was
decorated with a belt of white shells, the long free end hanging
down in front, and he had his bolo, like the rest of his people,
in a half-scabbard--that is, kept by two straps on a strip of wood,
shaped like a scabbard. But all these were mere accessories; what
distinguished him was his free graceful carriage, the lightness and
ease of his motions, the frankness and openness of his countenance.
Our rest over, we pushed on through a beautiful forest, unlike any
other seen so far in that it was open. The trail was excellent,
and rose steadily, for we had to cross a sharp range before making
Kiangan. I shall make no attempt to describe this exquisite afternoon:
but there was a breeze, the forest tempered the sun's rays a good part
of the time; and, as we rose, range after range, peak on peak opened
on our view, valley after valley spread out under our feet until
I wearied of admiring. The others had gone over the trail before,
and looked on nature with a more matter-of-fact eye. At the top of
the range I noticed an outcrop of fossil coral. Bubud distinguished
himself to-day. Gallman, who was trotting immediately in front
(and who ought to know his own trails!), called "Ware hole!" just
as Bubud put one of his forefeet in it, pitched forward, and threw
me over his head, thus establishing a complete breach of continuity
between us. However, as long as the thing had to happen, it was a
good place to select, for the trail was four feet wide here, and,
in case of going over the side, the drop was only eighty or ninety
feet, with bushes conveniently arranged to catch hold of on the way
down. This was Bubud's solitary mishap, and it was not his fault.
Past the divide, the trail became a road over which one might have
marched a field battery, so broad and firm and good was it: we were
nearing Kiangan. Presently we turned a low spur to the left, and the
Ifugao town burst upon our view. It was the headquarters of a Spanish
_Comandancia_ in the old days, and here Padre Juan Villaverde lived
and worked, seeking to convert the people, and to teach them to grow
coffee and to plant European vegetables. The mission, however came to
naught, leaving behind no trace visible to the casual traveller, save
a few lone cabbages: the garrison maintained here was massacred to a
man, the native who surprised and cut down the sentry being pointed
out to us the next day. Kiangan was celebrated in Spanish times,
and even more recently, as the home of some of the most desperate
head-hunters of the Archipelago. But, thanks to Gallman, head-hunting
in the Ifugao country is now a thing of the past.
The town stands on the top of a bastion-like terrace, thrust
avalanche-wise and immense between its pinnacled mountain walls;
the site is not only of great beauty, but of great natural strength,
like nearly all the other considerable settlements we saw on this
journey. The two mountain walls approach somewhat like the branches
of the letter V, having between them, near their intersection, as it
were, the natural bastion mentioned rising from the bed of the Ibilao
River, hundreds of feet below, and some thousands of yards distant. The
whole position is on a large generous scale; it would have appealed
to the ancient Greeks. And so, of course, we yet had some distance
to go, and now made our way through rice-paddies, echeloned on the
flanks of the spurs that came down to meet us. These rice-terraces
(_sementeras_), the first I had seen, at once excited my interest,
to the scorn of Pack, who bade me wait until we had come upon the
real thing: these were nothing. It turned out he was entirely right;
but I thought them remarkable, and anyway they were most refreshing
and cooling to look at, after our long hot ride. The sound of running
waters, the sight of the little runlets bubbling away for dear life, of
the tall rice swaying to the breeze, the acropolis before us with its
clumps of waving bamboos, of nodding bananas, and the soft afternoon
light over all, the combination made a picture that, will live in my
recollection. The impression immediately formed was that of a scene
of quiet peace and beauty, more or less rudely shocked the following
day. As we drew nearer and nearer we were welcomed by arches of bamboo
decorated with native flowers and plants, and guarded by life-size
_anitos_ [21] of both sexes _in puris naturalibus_, cut out of the
tree fern, but with no connotation whatever of indecency. For these
statues are either an innocent expression of nature, or, what seems
more likely, an expression of Nature or phallic worship.
We had now got up to the parade of the _cuartel_ (quarters or
barracks) and were greeted by shouts from the people gathered to
welcome us. The chief who had met us at Payawan, and who, on foot,
had beaten us into Kiangan, appeared in all his bravery and with a
prolonged "Who-o-o-o-e-e!" commanded silence. He then mounted a bamboo
stand some twenty feet high, with a platform on top, and made us a
speech! Yes, a regular speech, with gestures, intonations, and all
the rest of it. For these Ifugaos are born orators, and love to show
their skill. Accordingly, thanks to Mr. Worcester's appreciation,
orators' tribunes have been put up at points like Kiangan; it is
strange that the Ifugaos had never thought of it themselves. This
tribune, by the way, was ornamented with tufts of leaves and grasses
at the corners. When the speaker had done, he clapped his hands over
his head, and all the people followed suit.
Later on Gallman, who speaks Ifugao like a native, interpreted for
us. The speaker told his people that a great honor had been done them
by this visit of the "Commission," and that, besides, the great _apo_
[22] of all had come, too. His arrival could not fail to be of good
luck for them, as it meant more rice, more chickens, more pigs, more
babies, more good in all ways than they ever had had before. As other
speeches began to threaten, on a hasty intimation from Mr. Forbes we
moved on to our quarters, preceded by the escort of Constabulary.
This detachment, composed entirely of Ifugaos, would have delighted
any soldier. They certainly excited my admiration by the precision
of their movements, their set-up, and their general appearance. A
Prussian Guardsman could not have been more erect. There are five
companies of Constabulary in the Mountain Province, each serving in
the part of the country from which recruited, and each retaining in
its uniform the colors and such other native features as could be
turned to account. Thus the only "civilized," so to say, elements
are the forage cap and khaki jacket worn directly over the skin;
otherwise the legs, feet, and body are bare; the local gee-string is
worn, with the free end hanging down in front. Here at Kiangan each
man has below the knee the native brass leglet, and on the left hip
the _bultong_, or native bag, a sporran, indeed, showing the local
influence in its blue and white stripes. Thus accoutered, the first
impression formed was that these troops were actually highlanders;
on reflection, this impression is correct, for they are highlanders
in every sense of the word. I obtained permission to inspect the
detachment after the honors were over, and found their equipment
and uniforms in admirable condition. Of their discipline, everyone
spoke in the highest terms; indeed, we had next day, as will soon
appear, an example of this quality. Their loyalty to the Government is
unquestioned. These mountaineers are all, as might be expected, hardy,
strong, able-bodied, and active; in fact, the physical qualities of
these mountain people are remarkable. But at Kiangan, as elsewhere,
it was noticeable that discipline, regular habits, regular food, had
improved the naturally good physical qualities of the people. The
Constabulary appeared to me to be physically better than the tribe
from which they were drawn. I noticed, too, that after protracted
wearing of the khaki the skin of the body was several shades lighter
than that of the legs.
We now entered our quarters, being those of Lieutenant Meimban,
the native officer in command. Here, too, we met Mr. Barton, the
local school superintendent. His predecessor had had to be relieved,
because one day, as he was going up the trail, an Ifugao threw a spear
"into" him, as they say in the mountains, and he consequently got a
sort of distaste for the place, although it was clearly established
in the investigation that followed, and carefully explained to him,
that it was all a mistake, and that the spear had been intended for
somebody else. Mr. Barton is doing a useful work here in devoting
his spare time and energy to a study of the Ifugao religion with
its myths and mythology. He told me that he had so far defined seven
hundred different spirits and was not sure that he had got to the end
of them. The publication of Mr. Barton's research is awaited with some
avidity by the Americans living in the Province, as enabling them to
have a better control of the people through their religious beliefs.
We had not long been seated in our quarters before a deputation of
chiefs with their _gansas_ and a large number of _bubud_ [23] jars
entered, and offered us _bubud_ to drink. Very soon our visitors
began to dance for us to the sound of the _gansa_, their dance being
different from that we had seen a few days before at Campote. As,
however, the next day was one dance from morning to night, I shall not
spend any more time upon this affair, except to say that, turn about
being fair play, Cootes got up and gave such a representation as he
was able of a _pas seul_. When he had done, our visitors started
anew, and the _gansas_ proving irresistible, Cootes and I joined
in. The steps, poise of body, motion of the arms and hands are so
marked and peculiar that a little observation and practice enabled
us in a short time to produce at least a fair imitation; indeed,
so successful were our efforts that we were informed we should be
invited to dance on the morrow before the multitudes! This brought
us up standing, and it was time anyway. So our chieftains took their
leave, their _bubud_ jars remaining in our charge. These jars are
worth more than a passing mention: the oldest ones come from China,
and are held in such high esteem by the Ifugaos that they will part
with them for neither love nor money. According to the experts, some
of them are examples of the earliest known forms of Chinese porcelain,
and are most highly prized by collectors and museums. [24]
We put up our mosquito-bars this night, the only time on the trip,
but I think without any necessity. So far we had not seen, heard or
felt a single fly or mosquito, and were to see none until we struck
civilization once more in the Cagayán Valley.