Wazzup Pilipinas!?
Once upon a time, I believed a destination could be fully captured in a single frame—a beach kissed by turquoise waters, a mountain crowned by clouds, a vibrant street market bustling with life. I thought that the most beautiful places were those that looked good in pictures. But travel—real travel—taught me otherwise.
Over time, I began to understand that the soul of a place isn’t found in its views alone, but in its people. In their stories. In the culture they fiercely protect against the tides of change. This deeper awareness turned my wanderlust into a mission—not just to explore, but to listen, to connect, and to honor the guardians of heritage we so often overlook.
My journey through Western Visayas brought this truth to life. From the coastal edges of Negros Occidental to the mountainous heart of Iloilo, I immersed myself in three extraordinary indigenous communities: the Ata of Sagay, the Panay-Bukidnon of Calinog, and the Ati of Barotac Viejo. What I encountered was a tapestry of resilience, identity, and culture that defies time.
Calinog’s Panay-Bukidnon: Guardians of an Oral Empire
In the highlands of Panay Island, far from the din of city life, the Panay-Bukidnon people continue to walk a path rooted in ancestral memory. Also known as the Suludnon or Tumandok, they have withstood centuries of colonization and modernization to preserve their language, Ligbok, and their cultural expressions: the soul-stirring sugidanon (epic chants), the majestic binanog dance, and the exquisite panubok embroidery that speaks in patterns of nature and myth.
In Calinog, I met the family of the late Federico Caballero, a National Living Treasure and a revered chanter who kept the ancient Hinilawod epic alive, word for sacred word. His passing in August 2024 marked the end of an era—but his legacy lives on through his wife Lucia Caballero, herself a fierce cultural matriarch and a recipient of the Unsung Woman Hero award for championing Panay-Bukidnon heritage.
Their village has become a beacon for those who wish to learn—not just about their traditions, but from them. With homestays open to guests, visitors can experience the local cuisine, attend lectures on traditional arts, and witness live performances that span generations. There’s even a School of Living Traditions, where children learn to chant, dance, and sew as their ancestors did, all while attending formal education.
Years earlier, I encountered this same community in Capiz, where I met an elderly couple—Mang Kune and Nanay Modena. She had once been a binukot, a noblewoman kept in seclusion from childhood to preserve her grace and mystique. But the practice has faded. “We sent our daughters to school,” Mang Kune said simply, with no regret—just the quiet realization that traditions evolve, even as they are remembered.
Sagay’s Ata: From River to Ridge, A New Beginning
On the island of Negros, tucked into the highlands of Sagay City, lives the Ata community—a people who once lived by the river, roaming as nature dictated. That nomadic life changed after a catastrophic flood forced them to resettle in what is now known as Purok Ata in Barangay Puey.
Here, they built more than just homes. They built a future—complete with a daycare, a community clinic, and a growing number of houses occupied by families eager to preserve their way of life. Elders have become educators, ensuring the transmission of customs and language. Children are no longer just the future; they are the living continuity of a proud people.
I arrived just in time for Ata Day, their annual celebration every November. There were performances of the inagong courtship dance and demonstrations of pispis, the art of mimicking bird calls. They welcomed us not just as guests, but as witnesses to a culture often pushed to the periphery.
Despite this joyful display, I learned a sobering truth: though many residents value their heritage, only about 30% actively practice it. The celebration of Ata Day, then, isn’t merely ceremonial—it’s essential. It is a line drawn in the sand against cultural erasure. Without it, their stories risk fading into silence.
Barotac Viejo’s Ati: Brewing Identity in Every Cup
In a quiet corner of Iloilo lies Barangay Nagpana, home to the Ati people—a group connected by ancestry to the Aeta of Luzon, the Batak of Palawan, and the Mamanwa of Mindanao. What makes this community remarkable is how they’ve taken something as simple as coffee and turned it into a vessel for heritage.
At Balay Kape Nagpana, the Ati operate a community-run, seed-to-cup coffee enterprise, cultivating robusta beans that thrive in the forested hills surrounding their village. The women handpick and roast the beans with care, producing blends that are as rich in flavor as they are in meaning.
Their signature brew, Kape Miro, is named after the Asian palm civet, which helps ferment the coffee berries in the wild. Before we even took our first sip, we were greeted by a welcome dance and a heartfelt song, both of which recounted the Ati’s own story of struggle, survival, and pride.
Here, culture isn’t preserved in museums or festivals alone—it’s sipped daily, shared among neighbors, and sold to help sustain the community. Their enterprise is more than business. It is defiance. It is dignity.
The Real Treasure of Travel
What struck me most in visiting these three communities wasn’t their costumes or rituals. It was their grace under pressure. In a world that tempts even the strongest cultures to assimilate and forget, the Ata, the Panay-Bukidnon, and the Ati remain steadfast.
They are not relics of the past. They are beacons of identity in a homogenizing world.
For those of us who travel, let us not be content with merely collecting sunsets and selfies. Let us collect stories. Let us sit at the table, share the meal, listen to the chant, and dance to the rhythm of a people who have survived centuries of displacement, neglect, and change.
Let us travel not just to escape, but to engage. Not just to consume beauty, but to protect meaning.
Because in these quiet villages, far from the neon lights and viral reels, lie the true treasures of our nation’s soul. And it is only by stepping into their world—not to change it, but to understand it—that we become part of something greater than ourselves.
And maybe, just maybe, we find a part of ourselves that we never knew was missing.
Ross is known as the Pambansang Blogger ng Pilipinas - An Information and Communication Technology (ICT) Professional by profession and a Social Media Evangelist by heart.
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