this is just a reprint..... still searching for the name of the original author
I am an Igorot. Take a good look at me. Look at me for I defy the distortions heaped on my image by fellow Filipinos. Look at me for I defy those who have heard of me but have not seen me. Look at me for I am a living proof that defies the inanities of those who seek to degrade my integrity. Look at me for I am a part of you; and you, a part of me.
My skin, the fair and tender Benguet Lily that blooms in May, at the slightest touch of the first rain, hundreds of eyes relish on its sweetness whenever I pass by.
My shape, the graceful contours and the splendor of the eighth wonder of the world – Our Banaue Rice Terraces. And my youth, the greenness of the pines, of the forest and of the lush vegetation that in turn speak of the vitality and the strength of my people.
Look at me for I don’t hide behind the deceptions of cosmetiques – Look at me in my entirety, for I am poor, yet so rich in virtues as purity, honesty and simplicity.
Many centuries ago, my brave forbears set out to discover new horizons that to them meant sunshine and promise. Along the broad span of plains and valleys, hills and mountains, seas and rivers, they finally stumbled into a vast stretch of mountains. On these mountains lurked, the fear of the unknown yet over them was the promise of fertility.
At last, here was the land that was to be theirs, the land that they gave to me, and the land that I will give to my children so long as we exist in this part of the earth.
Over the years, my fathers toiled the early hours of dawn until darkness. Naked as the soil where they trod, they withstood the burning heat of the sun and the biting cold of the mountain winds. With few weapons but with the stoutness in their hearts, they fought the adverse forces of man and nature. With patience and perseverance, they created the forest and dug deep into the earth for the wealth that it hid. With inherent sense of beauty, they built a culture so rich, as their tools were so crude and ugly. Today, other people would wonder how my mother, lacking in all facilities that one finds in modern textile factories, but with the use of sticks and bamboo reeds, have fashioned so intricate a material as the cloth, that I wear. Still, it puzzles many that with no formal schooling my mother wove such rich designs and blended so beautiful the colors that no doubt would stand among the finest works of art.
Bare of tools and armed with ingenuity and resourcefulness, my fathers carved out of deep walls of these mountains, a magnificence that was to astound the world. Amidst our rice terraces is the skill, which surpasses many of man’s engineering feats. Amidst the beauty of our rice fields, our farms and our mines, which we have nurtured for ages with our sweat and blood, is proof of the ingenuity of my people. Amongst my people is the pride, which I must cherish with fervor as long as I live.
Who will speak for my fathers who have fashioned beauty out of these mountains and brought progress into this land? for my fathers who have contributed so rich a cultural legacy to this country?
Today even as alien cultures have seeped to the very core of our way of life, who will stand up for the quest of a true Filipino identity, unblemished by foreign tastes and idiosyncrasies? Who will answer the question of who is “the most Filipino among the Filipinos?” Truly, it is I. I am an Igorot!
Still, as the truth of the past is slowly unfolded, it saddens me and my brothers that here remains some callous hearts that would refuse to see the light. Truly, this is man’s inhumanity to man. What do I have that makes me anathema to writers of books and magazines? What have I done that has earned me the contempt of my own people?
I possess nothing but virtues which man has extolled over the centuries. That is what I possess. I have nothing but courage in the face of danger, fortitude – in my duties, patience in life. That is what I have. I have done nothing but toiled hard from the bowels of the earth until, such time as when prosperity flowered from my sweat and labor. And I have done nothing but defend to the last breath every inch of the ground which my fathers rightfully claimed their own. That is what I have done.
Over these rugged slopes and mountains, these fields and rivers my toils and struggles, my colorful heritage and my heroic past, I cry out with rage and indignation, “Rise up you souls of my immortal fathers and we will challenge the wisdom of this society. Rise up my unsung heroes and help me shout into the heavens … Give me justice which you have so long denied me. Bring me the glory that was mine, and give me back the honor to my name!
