by Gael Hilotin
The rising sun lights a path across the azure sea and through ruggedly enchanting rock formations. Meanwhile, pillow-pump clouds float overhead the San Carlos Borromeo Church, one of the 26 churches in the country recognized as cultural icons because of their exceptional beauty and impeccable state of preservation.
It’s still early morning, yet the crowd dash like ants in a vernacular house near the age-old church in the old-fashioned town of Mahatao, just 6 kilometers away from Basco, Batanes. Age-old traditional houses in this province are built out of stone, lime, wood, and thatch to survive the harsh and bipolar weather.
As I walk inside the confines of the time-tested residence, I see about a dozen men, both young and old, patiently chopping the meat of a cow which was slaughtered around 3 a.m.
“Here in Mahatao, you need to butcher a cow and a pig when you get married, because you have to give food to the entire community during the reception. Everyone is invited in a wedding,” Ryan Cardona, owner of Bisumi Tours and Services, a local tour agency in Batanes tells me.
I am lucky to have Cardona as my companion, an experienced and well-known Ivatan tour guide in Batanes before he set up his own tour company last year. When he learned I have 18 days to spend in his province, he suggested an itinerary that will introduce me and let me immerse in Ivatan culture. Because his brother-in-law will tie the knot, he invited me to witness the traditional wedding preparation.
“This is my third time attending a wedding in Batanes. I’m now the official wedding crasher!” I quip.
“Do you know why there’s a lot of wedding this week?” Cardona asks. “Weddings here are scheduled based on the pilaton, an age-old calendar created by the Ivatan elders. We consult them on when is the best time to hold a wedding, when to travel and when to open a business, among others,” he explains.
He then leads me to an old kitchen where the women are busy preparing the ingredients for the cuisine, which are mostly traditional. I get my own knife and sit shoulder to shoulder with them as I peel the onions.
Kitchens in old houses in Batanes are typically built separately. They usually bear a resemblance to a sinadumparan, a stonehouse with two-sloped cogon roof, only smaller in size. They have a built-in stove called rapuyan, which is constructed out of stone and mortar. Above the stove is a wooden storage called paya, used for stocking dried fish, vegetables, garlic, onions and other condiments.
An amiable woman standing by the door asks for my name and jots it down in her notebook, which contains the list of people who are helping in the wedding preparation. Later on, a traditional Ivatan food in vunung leaf is given to those who lend a hand by two men roaming around, carrying a container full of vunung.
“This is our breakfast for today,” the woman tells me.
On the other side of the yard, Cardona shows me another group of women who are busy cooking. Colossal vats, pans and casseroles dapple the area. They let me try to mix the food, which is not as easy as it looks as smoke starts to get into my eyes. I laugh in tears.
I continue peeling the onions with the other women, until someone asks us to stop because the ingredients are enough already. By lunch, they hand us another round of vunung.
The wedding ceremony itself is already modern, but the reception is a mix of modern and traditional. Traditions, in order to survive, need to adapt to the changing times.
At the makeshift dance floor accentuated with rainbow-hued lamps and endemic flowers, men ask women “Maparin ka itada [Can I dance with you]?” Those who invite women to dance will have to pay any amount on the table. In return, they get a free liquor shot, pulutan and a cigarette. There are also assigned manayay, people who asks others to dance, but does not have to pay, they do this to entice more dancers and fill the dance floor.
Participating in a local wedding in Batanes is truly an experience worth remembering. I rarely get to witness a traditional wedding preparation like this. I find it amazing how the residents of Mahatao exhibit the spirit of bayanihan (communal unity) through occasions like weddings. There is something about their traditions that reminds me of my roots. Sometimes, I find it heart-rending how I travel to far-away places to find and experience something that we used to have. They say all traditions are meant to be broken, but I wish they do not.