Chapter XI

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 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, [67] 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 [68] 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 [69] 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.

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 [72] 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.

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 [73] 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, [74] 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 [75] them to have a better control of the people through their religious beliefs.

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. [77]

“The anito of the Philippines is essentially a protecting spirit.” (F. Jagor, “Travels in the Philippines,” p. 298. English translation, London, Chapman & Hall, 1875; originally published in Berlin. 1873, “Reisen in den Philippinen,” Weidmannsche Buchhandlung.)

“The religion of the islands, what may be called the true religion of Filipinos, consisted of the worship of the anitos. These were not gods, but the souls of departed ancestors, and each family worshipped its own, in order to obtain their favorable influence.” (Pardo de Tavera, “Reseña Histórica de Filipinas,” Manila, 1906.)