Viv Yumul

In grasping the nature of acquiring food in hunter-gatherer and nomadic communities, we imagine the hunting journey of the Batak who first set foot on their tribe's ancestral land. What was it like to be drawn to hunt in the vast forest by the call of the gut?

Kabatakan, the ancestral land of the katutubong Batak, remembers the first men bounding through the forest in the sacred act of nature meeting itself. Esa, the ancestor, digs deep within and bursts forth to deliver a blow that takes down a wild boar. With help from his loyal hunting dogs, the hunting grounds are illuminated in his perception. His senses are sharpened by his growing connection to the land, and he begins to give names to his surroundings. His movements etch his signature into the memory of the surrounding forests, beginning a relationship that he, and the many descended from him, will share with the land far beyond the ancient days.

In these first missions to the forest is the process of co-creation, of a people growing with the land, giving meaning to the wonders they saw around them. The land provides, but asks for effort and energy. That energy is made in the body, and requires fuel to propel man to answer the call to adventure, all as an answer to the gut’s calls for more of the same fuel. Life called to the ancestor, and his inner wind sent him into the forest to hunt, and into his experience on this land.

Once in a while, people wind up too deep in the thick talun (forest). Pulled by the mass of the highest mountain, a murky crawling mist sits on his back, a chilling company in his solitude. It is all dark, in the shadows of the limbs of trees... trees that do not know much of men. Familiar bird songs have faded and far gone. Everything has shifted, and the hunter falls silent in their visit to this new atmosphere. He must keep himself awake. All sorts of snakes, blood-sucking worms and poisonous scorpions roam this corner of his world.

The sensations of fear cascade into doubt. Will I be able to find my way back? Will I see my wife and children again?Here, the Batak might call on the deities of strength to overcome the hurdle, to which life hangs, like most people throughout the ages have sought for the guidance of the inner companion. It is the spirit of man that can match uncertainty. Sometimes, it is believed to appear in the form of an animal. The Naskapi natives of the west believe that it dwells in the heart (Jung, 1964). On the other hand, the old traditions of the Tagalogs as in most Asian countries, recognize courage or lakas ng loob, to spring from the core of his being located in the atay (liver). (Arriola, 1993)

To whatever atay, ati, or the ambiguous term hangit is attached to, it points to a concentration of life-giving energy. Arable earth is referred to as atay ng lupa, the most sensitive part of the finger, atay ng daliri. The portion of the hand read in fortune-telling is the atay ng kamay, while in many native tribes, omens are discerned from the pig's liver*.* The organ that holds the most blood in the human body, is in material the crucial regulator of flow, and in experience, is thought to be the origin of the poles of the deepest emotions, namely, "dalamhati (dalam, deep; hati, liver) and pighati for intense grief; lunggati for yearning; salaghati for deep resentment; luwalhati for intense happiness." (Arriola, 1993)

Although the hunter is thoroughly frightened, doubt clears like a dream when the fog disperses behind him. The talun(forest) is once again drenched in the light of the sun and his heart pounds with joy. How expressive the world is within and without! The man comes out full of awe. In the eyes of beauty and meaning, his experience cannot be painfully reduced to a mere "hunt or be hunted", nor can his being be separated from his body and the environment. He is dignified in his relations from loob to labas (outside).

Could he have felt eyes watching

from the cavities of the balete?

Could he have chanced upon a dog

who refused to bow?

Could he have found the bees to come

in the blossoming of the Banebegan (Taluto tree),

longed for his wife to be by his side to see

and in the longing, he's comforted?

Could it be that he watched very closely,

bitten countless times and remained,

learned the ways to invite the children of Aputa (master of bees),

so, he could savor the oozing honey

when the crops are exhausted?

Could the taste of the bitter fruit be enough

to excite a joke about his misreading

defeat the spiraling infinity of the jungle

which causes dizziness?

Must he have scorned at the fog,

or the thorns that pierced his skin,

and in doing so, on his way out,

allowed joy to come in?

Could he have endlessly asked

where all the world was from

wind up with no answer,

but that it gives to his people?

When the Batak narrows his vision on the target, whether it be a boar, or a way back to the village, it is in the context of a world dancing in meaningful movements that he is part of. The talun is home to the animate and inanimate, abounding with life, with spirits, sometimes, just like his. He recognizes the "other", and honors panya'en (entities) like taw(persons), with sensitivity to what they may regard as favorable reciprocity, gleaned from nothing that does not show in the world, but even so speaks of the divine. To take the life of the babuy (boar), one must give offerings to Kiudalan and Napantaran, the masters of pigs. (Novellino, 2008)

Blood is spilled and taken in by the earth. The rounded principle redeems the discharge of heat by man. Not only does meat warm the bodies of the Batak, in the cold of the night and the morning dew, but also gives their bodies fuel to go on. Out of it showers breathtaking stories, laughter and contemplation amongst the people. The hunter is both humbled and pleased. Spare pieces of carcass are left to the carnivorous land walkers and scavengers in a chain of eternal re-creation.

One could say that everything about the sons and daughters of the katutubong Batak, were in analogous harmony, so much so that the rich red soil of Palawan and its virgin greens dyed their skin. A lot of their exchanges have changed over time, being forced to the practices of the new dominating groups, which, as the remainders of their kind believe, have displeased the spirits of the land. These people are disappearing dramatically, while the majority of the world revises the meaning of man separate from the requisite of acquiring his meal and other resources. Man's core and needs, arguably, have not changed so much. To what degree, then, does the forgotten tale of man deprive his body and soul meaning?

[Author's note: This is a fictional piece, written as an exploration in understanding and exploring values in folklore, poetry and beliefs of the peoples of the Philippines]

Reference:

Alejo, A. (2020). Tao po! Tuloy! Halina sa loob ng tao. Magisterial Lectures, 22. Retrieved from https://archium.ateneo.edu/magisterial-lectures/22

Arriola, C. (1993). The body book. Quezon City: GCF Books.

Demetrio, F. (1991). The soul book. Quezon city: GCF Books.

Jung, C. (1964). Man and his symbols. New York: Dell Pub. Co.

Liu Z.-W., Shu J., Tu, J.-Y., Zhang C.-H., & Hong J. (2017). Liver in the Chinese and Western medicine. Integrative Medicine International, vol. 4, pp. 39-45.

Mcgilchrist, I. (2019). Ways of Attending: How our divided brain constructs the world. New York: Routledge.

Mcgilchrist, I. (2021). The matter with things: Our brains, our delusions, and the unmaking of the world. London: Perspectiva Press.

Novellino, D. (2018). Batak: the first people. Paris: Confédération Française Démocratique du Travail (CFDT).

Novellino, D. (2008). Kabatakan, the ancestral territory of the Tanabag Batak on Palawan island, Philippines. Retrieved from https://www.iccaconsortium.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/04/KABATAKAN-IT-TANABAG.pdf