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Dahican Beach, Mati City: Paradise on the Brink

I know of places like Boracay and Puerto Galera before their massive commercialization through older friends. They talked about doing road trips in pick-up trucks filled with tanks, dive gear, and eager diving friends to get to a mostly empty Sabang, Puerto Galera. Dives were exploratory. Food and accommodations were simple and cheap. Life was good and nature was at its best.

Weekday afternoon skimboarding
Weekday afternoon skimboarding

Of Boracay, I remember a story by an American veteran who settled on the island. He told us how it was truly a paradisial gem, sparkling turquoise. There was hardly anything on the beach. Their mark of progress was broadcasting Voice of America from one of the island’s peaks.

Got online and finished work from one of the carinderias, selling coffee and instant noodles, before I got on a bus bound for Mati City. It's a 4-hour picturesque ride.
Went online and finished work from one of the carinderias, selling coffee and instant noodles, before I got on a bus bound for Mati City. It’s a 4-hour picturesque ride.

I recall these stories on my first day at Dahican, Mati City. I got there at around 7 in the morning, after an all-nighter on the road. Davao City had 24/7 trips to Mati City. I thought that this was a sign of beach traffic, and ample food and accommodations options.

Instead, I find a Dahican beach that is sparse and simple. Except for the huge I Love Mati eyesore – errrr, sign – which I intentionally left out of all beach pictures, it is exactly how I envisioned Boracay and Puerto Galera before their boom. And I am filled with dread. I can’t get that eyesore out of my head.

Marine Sanctuary

Dahican turtle encounter while snorkeling.
Dahican turtle encounter while snorkeling.

Dahican Beach is a sanctuary for turtles and dugongs. It is also a part of the migration routes of whales, whale sharks and dolphins.

The day I arrived, Winston Plaza of Amihan sa Dahican had just secured more than a hundred eggs, left by a nesting turtle the night before. He expected these to hatch in the next few days. Turtles regularly visited the beach to lay their eggs. Winston went on daily patrol, seeking out turtle tracks before foot traffic and waves erased them.

Baby turtles, newly hatched, still summoning the energy to get out into the sea.
Baby turtles, newly hatched, still summoning the energy to get out into the sea.

My first two days were spent trying to take videos of a dugong family, a female dugong that swam with its pup and a huge male dugong. From the surface, we’d see them come up for air every five minutes. I got lucky on the morning of my second day, when Winston volunteered to work as a spotter from his paddle board.

The dugongs frequented an area at the west side of the beach, around 30 to 40 feet from the shore. Depth during high tide was around 30 feet. The bottom was sandy, with a few sprouts of sea grass. To reach the area from the beach, you needed to break through 10 to 15 feet of strong waves and murky water. The sea grew calmer after you’ve broken through these waves.

When the habagat came in, the dugongs moved closer to the beach. The day I left, the huge male dugong was seen scouting the area just 20 feet from Amihan sa Dahican’s camp. From June to August, whale sharks also came close to shore. Dahican beach offered food to these marine giants.

Children’s Paradise
Once I’d gotten my dugong video, I settled on the beach. I worked on my tan, “body-surfed,” and whiled away time watching the kids of Amihan sa Dahican show off their skimboarding and surfing skills.

Galunggong boodle fight! Best meal ever!
Galunggong boodle fight! Best meal ever!

Amihan housed more than 20 scholars, children of varying school levels. These kids were sent to school, and given food and shelter. They also learned the ways of the waves, perfecting their moves every moment they can. They’d competed and won in several local and Asian surfing, skimboarding and canoeing competitions.

They call him Piolo (seriously :)), a scholar and champion skimboarder.
They call him Piolo (seriously 🙂 ), a scholar and champion skimboarder.

Whenever a turtle laid her eggs on the beach, they helped secure the eggs. When I was there, they surrounded the enclosure that sheltered the eggs several times in a day, and watched, fascinated as hatchlings began to make their way out of the sand.

We were both waiting for the turtles to dig themselves out of the sand.
We were both waiting for the turtles to dig themselves out of the sand.

I joined them sometimes, waiting to get handed one or two hatchlings. My hands needed to be covered in sand for the turtles to imprint Dahican (and not ‘D Roda) in their systems.

It was a joy for me, no matter how simple. To handle one of my favorite marine creatures. To watch kids enjoy themselves and appreciate nature. To just lay on the beach, imprinting Dahican into my system.

Amihan Sa Dahican

Amihan sa Dahican's camp.
Amihan sa Dahican’s camp.

Much of what Dahican is now owes to the efforts of Jun and Winston Plaza, brothers and founders of Amihan sa Dahican, and their friends, supporters and partners.

Amihan sa Dahican is their advocacy. They want a better life for the residents of Dahican while keeping with sustainable practices, where work, play and home life takes nature into consideration.

It’s been 15 years since they took in their first scholars, giving them education and livelihood opportunities. Some have graduated from college through scholarships at public universities in Mindanao. Jun has worked out agreements with these universities that allot slots for qualified Amihan kids. Some now work as surfing instructors and nature guides, in and out of the country.

Jun explains his strategies in safekeeping the eggs and eventually releasing the hatchlings.
Jun explains his strategies in safekeeping the eggs and eventually releasing the hatchlings.

Jun has also been successful in affecting change when it comes to business and fishing practices in the area. Through his and the rest of Amihan’s vigilance, local fishermen have adapted sustainable fishing practices. They use smaller nets to save bigger marine creatures from getting trapped. Should they catch an endangered species, such as turtles and rays, most of them opt to release the creatures or turn them over to Amihan.

This change was slow and deliberate. For years, Jun, Winston and friends monitored fishing activities. Whenever there was an illegal catch, they offered rice and food money in exchange for their freedom.

Winston, right after our dugong sighting, explains why they are having a hard time getting Dahican approved as an MPA (marine protected area).
Winston, right after our dugong sighting, explains why they are having a hard time getting Dahican approved as an MPA (marine protected area).

The Amihan team also keeps the beach and its waters clean, doing coastal clean-ups at least once a week. During peak tourist season, Jun and his team would patrol the beach and discourage visitors from bringing food close to the water.

Amihan sa Dahican does all this with minimal support from the local government. They rely mostly on travelers, who rent tents and boards, get surfing lessons and buy from their sari-sari store, for funds to support everything that they’ve set out to do.

The Sign of Impending Boom
Dahican has come a long way. It has been featured in several travel shows as a top skimboarding and surfing destination. Enthusiasts, like myself, have visited for close encounters with dugongs, whale sharks and dolphins. It now has that “I Love Mati” sign, which to me is a misguided attempt at improving the beachscape.

Dahican Beach
Dahican Beach

Across I Love Mati is a Department of Tourism (DOT)-supported commercial center that was supposed to launch a week after my stay in Dahican. According to a source, it would house a massage parlor, a few eating and shopping establishments, and an accommodations alternative. (Most places along the beach only offered camping space.)

And while there really is nothing wrong with having options, I dread what might come after.

Amihan sa Dahican only leases its current place on the beach. They need to renew every 2 years. They’ve been threatened with eviction in the past. There have been times when turtles swam back, unable to nest, because of excessive light and noise from partying and karaoke-drunk visitors. Massive tourist traffic during peak season has consistently left massive amounts of trash.

A boom can aggravate problems that Amihan sa Dahican already deals with. Trash, disturbed nesting turtles, lease issues – Amihan is a small team facing what could be a gigantic wave of commercialization.

Amihan sa Dahican
Amihan sa Dahican

I hope that in 5 years, I will find a Dahican that’s close to how I found it weeks ago. Simple and fun. Thriving and sustainable. Amihan sa Dahican is my base/camp. I could swim with dugongs and turtles when I want to. I could lay peacefully on the beach during lazy days. I could watch baby turtles take their first steps. Children of all ages play and learn in a sanctuary they share with the rest of God’s creatures.

A new day begins.
A new day begins.
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Roots, Traditions and Remembering: On Meeting Apo Whang Od and Experiencing Buscalan

Whang Od Buscalan
Whang Od smiles as she works on my tattoo.

The trip to Buscalan, Kalinga Apayao meant two things for me. It was a return to the mountains – my rambling roots, having started out as a mountaineer before I took to the ocean. It was also my chance to get tattooed by Apo Whang Od, the last mambabatok (traditional tattoo artist).

And while the rest of my tattoos marked personal milestones, this one was going to be a highlight as it was. A tattoo by Whang Od, the 95 year-old Kalinga woman who shot to fame less than a decade ago when her artistry was featured in Lars Krutak’s Discovery Channel show, Tattoo Hunter.

Buscalan and the Whang Od Phenomenon

Whang Od's home in Buscalan
Whang Od’s home in Buscalan.

The trip was ill-timed. It fell on days when Typhoon Goni / Ineng battered northern Philippines. We had gone ahead, following forecasts that predicted rainfall only in the extreme north areas of Batanes. The predictions were wrong, and we ended up spending four days in rain-soaked Buscalan. We arrived a day ahead of the storm, and left as it winded down.

The hike up to Buscalan.
The hike up to Buscalan.

Surprisingly, travelers arrived every day, even during the brunt of the storm. I asked a few locals about this – over beer tagays, of course – and they said that days without visitors were rare. If it weren’t foreign tourists, Filipinos came. They remembered guests who made their way up from faraway Visayas and Mindanao. They recalled a weekend when there were 100 visitors. Each household had homestay guests.

Most made the trip to get tattooed by Apo Whang Od. The 2009 Lars Krutak feature and its subsequent book, Kalinga Tattoo: Ancient and Modern Expressions of the Tribal, shoved the gentle Whang Od and the tranquil Buscalan into the limelight. Follow-ups from local and foreign media came, one after another – and with these were throngs of tattooed travelers who now wanted “the real deal.”

I saw this for myself when it was our turn to get tattoos. Apo Whang Od and her granddaughter, Grace, had a full day that started at 7AM. Sessions were held at a makeshift tattoo nook that was tucked away from the wind and the rain. We got there at 10:30AM and there was a queue of about 7 people.

Tap tap tap....
Tap tap tap….

It was a cold and stormy morning and our guide, Gilbert, was unsure if Whang Od would want to attend to the guests. But she was there, jacket on and silently focused on work. She took a short break before our turn. Because she didn’t speak Tagalog, she gestured shyly to the crowd, moving her hand to her mouth. She was ready for her first meal. They ended sessions at 4PM to give Whang Od time to tend to her home and her rice field.

This was a typical day for the old woman for about 8 years now. Apo Whang Od: cultural icon and the last mambabatok. She put Buscalan on the traveler’s map. Tourism was now a major income generator for the community and Tinglayan, the municipality it belonged to.

Batok and the Kalinga Culture
Tattooing was a natural language of the skin that gave voice to the ancestors and their descendants who attempted to emulate them by sacrificing their own bodies to make them more lasting and sacred. – Lars Krutak, The Last Kalinga Tattoo Artist of the Philippines (2009).

Beer tagays with Grace, Gilbert and new friends.
Beer tagays and chichiriya with Grace, Gilbert and new friends.

The night before the tattoo session, Grace warned me that Apo Whang Od’s taps were lethal. The old woman hit harder – you bled more. So, we agreed that I’d get a “mix” tattoo, one started by Grace and finished by Whang Od.

Grace outlines my tattoo.
Grace outlines my tattoo.

This was a good idea. Grace sat me down and traced my selected design. I chose the Hinuliab, which, according to the Kalinga Tattoo book, meant either “to release the fire from within” or “to ask for blessing.” She then began to tap. Soft taps to ease me into the traditional Kalinga way of tattooing.

When she was done, I moved over to Apo Whang Od’s side. I’d been waiting for this, an audience with the old woman. Of course, with the people around me, my swelling arm and the mythical aura she exuded, I just gushed. Gilbert translated my question: what do you think about being so popular in Manila? And, I blabbed about bringing her her favorite Cloud 9 chocolates.

I stopped there. She did hit harder. Each tap buried the thorn deeper into my skin. I hoped being quiet would appease her a bit. Stop being makulit, Roda!

The men and women before me had to be of Kalinga blood to even qualify for a tattoo. Females declared their womanhood and hoped for fertility through their tattoos. Men had to fight and kill to deserve theirs. There were very few left of these warrior-men, many of whom received their tattooed privilege by fighting the Japanese during World War II.

About the warrior-men, Krutak wrote: “But soon enough he would walk among the countless generations of tattooed Kalinga warriors that came before him. He would bear visual proof of his martial exploits in the form of an indelible tattoo that would confer to him special privileges and lifelong respect from other members living in his community.”

Whang Od once said: “Tattooing is a ritual and serious religious experience. The spirits expect Fanah to act bravely. If he doesn’t, they’ll inflict death and destruction on the community.” *

Krutak himself underwent so much more than I did during my 4 days in Buscalan. He lived and immersed himself in community life for almost a month. He worked in the rice fields, pounded rice, bonded and hunted with the men, and learned about the batok art from the tattoo master. He joined festivals and rituals; and worked to deserve a tattoo from Whang Od.

Mass Tourism’s Indelible Mark and Buscalan’s Future
One could only imagine the time when the Kalinga tattooing tradition shifted as people began to follow the Tattoo Hunter’s ink trails.

None of the locals that I talked to could recall Apo Whang Od’s dilemma as one tattooing request came after another. The Discovery Channel episode’s reach was massive and global. Alongside modern tourism’s preference for access and affordability, Buscalan became a destination, and Whang Od suddenly had an audience to please.

Children line up for sweet treats as our guide looks on.
Children line up for sweet treats as our guide looks on.

The people of Buscalan were aware of how much had changed. A few cement homes had been built next to native ones, mainly to accommodate travelers. Children asked for candies from visitors, for which their caretakers apologized, in case we felt pestered. Many Buscalan and Tinglayan locals joined the tourism workforce, and earned their keep as guides, motorcycle drivers, and canteen, inn and homestay operators, among others.

Buscalan and Tinglayan are now official eco-cultural destinations.
Buscalan and Tinglayan are now official eco-cultural destinations.

A viable local economy had risen up, with an old woman at the center. And sustaining this was now an issue.

What would happen once Whang Od felt she wanted to rest from working? Would Grace – an impressive young woman with a genuine love for the batok art and an acumen for business – be able to take over? Would people still come to get their traditional tattoos?

Remember Her Legacy

The Hinuliab.
The Hinuliab.

I chose a visible portion of my arm for my tattoo precisely because this tattoo was my most painful one. It was co-created by a cultural icon. It was something I’d be proud of. Others before me had had the same sentiment – I’m sure.

But what did I really have on my skin? What cultural tradition had I appropriated out of vanity? Out of the need to showcase my Filipino-ness even with a tradition that was never truly mine.

My tattoo has healed, and I am just waiting for the charcoal to seep out and for the outer skin to peel. But Apo Whang Od’s mark remains raw. My ego has been subdued; and I’ve become aware of the legacy I was allowed to partake of. My skin bears her artistry and generosity. It bears the sacred traditions of the Kalinga tribe and Buscalan’s roots. And just as the tap tap tap of her bamboo stick remains fresh in my head, I will always remember.

*You can watch the full episode of Tattoo Hunter here:

References:
Kalinga Tattoo: Ancient and Modern Expressions of the Tribal. Munich: Edition Reuss. http://larskrutak.com/the-last-kalinga-tattoo-artist-of-the-philippines/

Cultural Appropriation. Wikipedia.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cultural_appropriation