Untouched, Unspoiled Batanes

By Niña Terol-Zialcita

January 30, 2011, 1:26am

Fundacion Pacita, a cultural landmark in Batanes.

It was going to be a different year, I told myself. For starters, I would do away with the usual loud and head-cracking New Year revelry and stay where my husband and I could breathe clean air, fall asleep to the sound of crickets and the crashing waves, and have 360-degree views of Mother Nature at her best. We would figuratively and literally unplug ourselves from my gadgets and from the toxicity of a frenetic urban life, and begin 2011 in a place that is pristine and virginal, removed from the excesses of the life that we had gotten accustomed to in chaotic, cacophonic Metro Manila.

For that purpose, there was no other place on our mind but Batanes, that almost-mystical group of islands that has been likened to Scotland or New Zealand but which remains very much in touch with its Ivatan roots. Years ago, people scoffed at the thought of flying to Batanes because of the impression that it was too “backward.” (“We hated flying there,” I had been told by a former flight attendant. “There was nothing to do!”)

Now, however, with sustainability on everyone’s minds, and with a collective call to reimagine the way we live and adopt a back-to-basics approach in our lifestyles, people are training their eyes on Batanes not only as a superb getaway destination where they could (quite literally) throw their cares away, but also—and more importantly—as a model for a sustainable, reimagined Philippines.

Proud of their culture

Imagine this: Even from thousands of feet above the sea, the sights that will greet your eyes will already be enough to declare the majesty of the Batanes Isles deep-green mountainous islands stand proudly against the azure waters of the South China Sea and the Pacific Ocean, their lush mountaintops showing no signs of erosion or human intervention. Only three (Batan, Sabtang, and Itbayat) out of the eleven islands comprising Batanes are inhabited by some 17,000 people, leaving plenty of space for vegetation to grow, for cows to graze lazily, and for Mother Nature to unfurl her virtuous best. The rest of the islands remain untouched and unspoiled by human hands.

A tour around the islands shows how the Ivatans take pride in their collective history and culture. Centuries-old churches remain preserved and stand proudly in the middle of the town, their clean exteriors belying the fact that they had borne witness to the wars, disasters, and struggles that have helped to define a people. In Savidug and Chavayan villages in Sabtang Island, even the ruins of the old stone houses bore the marks of quiet dignity and pride. I wondered about the stories behind these walls and the secrets that they kept, observing that even in the chilly winter weather and in the pregnant silence of the tour, the villages were not eerie at all but seemed to exude the quiet elegance of a grand old matriarch. 

Imagine if more towns in the Philippines could show this much respect for history and culture: What would Intramuros or Binondo look like today?

No poverty, no hunger, no crime

Dignity is a word that can definitely be associated with the Ivatans. Although the towns boast no large malls or spectucular structures, and although the province itself is classified as a fifth-class province, the people eat and live well, are educated, and live in an atmosphere of peace.

According to the Philippine Human Development Report 2008/2009, Batanes had the highest basic education enrollment rate (100 percent in 2004); ranked third in terms of real per capita income in the country (R33,578 as of 2006); was ranked sixth nationwide in Knowledge indicators; and was in the Top 10 provinces with the highest standards of living (rank: eight, as of 2006). It ranked higher worldwide than Laguna, Batangas, or even Indonesia or Morocco. It likewise placed in the Top 10 in terms of gender-related development and employment, and was second nationwide in terms of female participation in economic activity.

When I asked our tour guide, Jacklord Labrador, if it was true that Batanes had “zero crime rate,” he said that it was mostly true because everybody could eat well and was educated, and there was therefore very little incentive to steal or commit crimes. What could be considered “police stories” for them, Jack relayed, would be accounts of neighbors having loud arguments after a night of beer-drinking.

Batanes is also known for a small store called Honesty Coffee Shop, where there are no attendants and where visitors just log their purchases onto a small notebook and drop their payments into a small drop box. (Don’t expect to get any change back!) This epitomizes the trust which the residents of Batanes demonstrate within their community.

Food here is plentiful because residents practice backyard farming, where they grow their own vegetables in their own little gardens. When my husband asked Jack if there was any bartering or selling between residents for vegetables, he laughed and said, “You won’t need to barter or sell because your neighbor would be growing the same thing as you are!”

And because the food and the air are fresh, people can live longer, healthier lives. While at Chavayan Village, a UNESCO-nominated village known for its pre-Hispanic limestone houses, our tour group met Lolo Marcelo, who by now has just turned 104 years old. He is still active as the community’s fishnet repairman, and although he complains of some pains on his fingers and knees because of the cold weather, he still keeps busy and has enough energy to entertain visitors like us. His secret? “I don’t eat meat—especially pork,” he declared.

Imagine if people were well-fed and well-educated, and if people did not have to migrate within or outside of the country just to find livelihood and food to eat? What would our rural towns look like? What would a healthy, educated, dignified population look like?

Born to fly

Our five-day stay in Batanes and our lively interaction with the locals revealed to us the subtle pride with which the Ivatans lived. Their strict adherence to Land Use policies—some dating back to the days of tribes and clans—demonstrate deep respect for culture and tradition that is very much integrated into their everyday lives and transactions. Here, inherited land cannot be sold, and property that has been marked as agricultural land cannot have any sort of permanent structures on them—not even fences. Hence, boundaries of communal pastures and other property are marked by bright yellow-green hedges that add to the brightness of the green landscape.

While at Fundación Pacita, another cultural landmark in Batanes that has become the sanctuary for artists and other creative souls (being the former workshop of the late great artist, Pacita Abad), we spoke to Protogenes Galarion of the Jorge, Aurora, and Pacita Abad Foundation. He proudly relayed to us bits of Ivatan history and of the Foundation’s work in preserving Ivatan houses and supporting the artistic endeavors of indigent Ivatan artists. He spoke passionately about their influences and about how their simple but rich way of life has shaped the way they view the world.

“We are a fifth-class municipality, but we have a high standard of living,” he points out. “We are a highly educated people, and we have more Ph.D.s than [some provinces that claim to be more progressive.] We value education, we value our culture, and we’d rather maintain our simple but adequate lifestyle than be polluted by the commercialization that is now happening in [other islands].”

Speaking of tourism, we noted the steep air fares to and from the province, and we asked why it was that nobody in the island has pushed for more efficient sea transport to the rest of the country.

“We were born to fly,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Our first trips outside of the island are on an airplane. That’s how it has always been, and that’s how we hope it will stay.”

It was a response that caught me off-guard. It was so honest, so authentic, and so real that it was practically indisputable. Batanes is a place of respect and pride, of time-honored values that have kept a people and their traditions intact through the centuries. There was nothing arrogant or flamboyant about them—all the locals whom we met on the trip were gentle people who spoke moderately and without any hint of brashness. They acknowledge what they have and work hard to enjoy their little luxuries, and they don’t spend their time pining away for things that are out of reach.

Now imagine a country where the simple abundance of Batanes could be the norm—where there was pride and dignity not because of medals, awards, and wealth, but because of knowing that one had everything that one needed to stand on his or her own. To me, Batanes is “the little island that could,” and if only we looked back and learned from this town that others had deemed “backward,” we will find that everything we need to reimagine and reshape the country is just within our reach.

Imagine that.

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