Back in the 90s I was part of a research team that participated in a survey of the ancestral domain of the Subanen of Zamboanga del Sur. The assignment had involved daily treks up and down mountains and secondary forests in the municipality of Lakewood. Our task was to visit the different Subanen heads and their respected communities to gather first-hand information on their rich culture and history.
During one trek (which averaged twelve kilometers), I momentarily strayed and stumbled headlong into a hidden dead-end clearing about the size of a basketball court.
At one side were piles upon piles of animal bones, some of which were almost-complete skeletons. (as I recall, I identified quite a few: boar, deer and monkeys)
As I hurriedly traced my steps back and finally met up with the rest of the party, I asked our guide Melchor (who also happened to be a tribal leader), what it was I had just witnessed. He said, quite solemnly that for them, it was a sacred place and that no one ever goes there on purpose. “It’s where all the old, sick or wounded forest animals go to die.“ he said. From all they know, that’s the only area where predators like snakes do not venture, he added. With deep respect, I wondered at that time if all forests everywhere had a similarly secluded places where its dwellers could go to claim their peace in death.
Now, thinking back at that particular experience, I admit to being dumbfounded till this day. The haunting image that all those piled up animal bones each had a tale to tell just makes me marvel at the hidden order of things and more important, how truly wondrous nature really is. So many times have I seen roadkill, or worse, fresh remains of animals, especially pets strewn on our highways with no one to even at least carry them to the side of the road lest they be scattered further. Once even, on our way home from a gig, my friend who was driving stopped awhile as we alit and dragged a large Labrador from the middle of the road to keep it from being continually run over again and again by large trucks racing in the early morning.
It is indeed quite ironic sometimes that while in the densest of jungles, one discovers honor and respect, here in our own cement jungles, they are sometimes hard to find. In my almost daily rides with my son, it’s not hard to notice most of the road discourtesy come from people in gleaming SUVs that hug the highways. Often, these monsters appear to bully its way past bottlenecks and jams, as though daring anyone to contest their will. If one were old enough, you would have been familiar with the term given to jeepneys, the king of the road. Romantic as that may have been in portraying the common man’s transport, nowadays, the real social order is clear as day. It is this unfortunate comparison which comes to mind whenever I recall whatever dignity I found among those wild animals in the bush.
