When I was a child, I was told of Indung Tibuan, the mother from which we sprang and grew.
They were always comforting stories, the mother-crocodile Dapu always had a tinge of compassion to those that inhabited her back.
But compassion has its limits.
From my childhood in Pampanga under the shade of Mount Alaya I learned to respect the spirits even through modern trappings.
The rainy season is important to those that reside in the mountain lands, it is not only a marker but a sacred tradition.
We ask “Pilan nakang kauran?” or “How many rainy seasons are you?” when looking for one’s age.
At the start of the rainy season, we pray to the saints but we all know who the gathering is for.
Apung Iru, our name for St. Peter, “his” fluvial celebration is nothing more than window dressing, coating the dedication to Dapu.
Those are memories I will always cherish.
I am far from home now, settling in a land of ice and snow. I miss the heat and the humidity and the traditions of my people.
I wonder if Dapu can reach even here.
I work in a mining company, extracting rare metals for various uses.
Every time we excavate I say a short prayer to the mother-crocodile.
We were hurting her, and for what? Filling the coffers of fat billionaires?
I knew what we did was perverse and I was complicit.
When I was still in the lands of my ancestors, the elders would do the paraya or blood sacrifice. This was to apologize for wounding her back.
Even the most innocuous tilling of the soil would necessitate this offering.
My life was not what most people would call “easy” I grew up poor, but never unhappy.
I knew to respect the higher spirits, for if you give them their due they will grant you peace.
I wonder what happens during a typhoon, with the earth on Dapu’s back.
Do the storm spirits fight her?
Or does she just let them rain upon her?
Was it up to the mortals to seek shelter?
Looking at the quarry I work at I wonder if she is disappointed with the doings of humans.
I have heard of tales of other beings bearing the earth upon their backs. The L’mbong of the Maranaos most especially.
I would like to think that they are cordial, the different parts of their earthworlds unique to their burden.
My work is not difficult and owing to the laws of the land I have much free time.
Time to reminisce.
Time for action.
I made a decision to resign.
It was not an easy thing to do, I was paid well and relatively comfortable.
But some things require sacrifice.
I left my place of work and reached out to those who put nature with primacy.
Those that I used to work with were good people, but even good people can do bad things.
The aspect of Dapu that I take to heart is the Manigut, she who pulls down and drags people into the depth.
This was a ritual sacrifice and the bounty of the new year was dependent on how many were pulled to the deep.
I will apologize for my actions when they stop their mining, but until then I will keep the lessons of Dapu with me.
Respect begets respect.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by an interview with Michael Pangilinan
Illustration by Niño Acero
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