WORK NO. 4: BANAUE & BAGUIO CITY

Early one Sunday morning, my supervisors and fellow interns began our second journey to the Cordillera mountains. Our supervisors took us because they wanted us to experience a little bit of the field work that they had been conducting for the past few months. The Cordillera mountain region is divided into a series of provinces, and our division has been visiting these different provinces and collecting data on food security and general nutrition, interviewing farmers and bringing back dozens of completed surveys in need of analysis. We participated in only one day, as we had to travel to another city for the rest of the week, but it was a very transformative experience. There were about fifteen people conducting the surveys, most of them students from nearby universities studying agriculture.  We divided into several groups, my group traveling just a bit outside of Banaue to a nearby village. While the surveys were being conducted, I had the chance to do some of my own personal research, interviewing a series of farmers and community members that were willing to talk to me. It was a wonderful experience and I learned a lot about some of the problems ailing these communities, many of which the HRP has been investigating. After a full day of experiencing the field (I admit, I had it good, some of the other groups had to hike for hours to reach their destinations), myself and Jessica, the other IWU intern, got ready to depart on Tuesday morning for our next destination, Baguio City. Traveling by van Tuesday morning, we reached the mountain town in six hours of driving, and moved into our new home for the remainder of the week, Baguio City’s Department of Agriculture. We spent three nights in Baguio City, and visited several universities to gather information for our individual projects in the HRP. We went to libraries, archives, university museums, and made many wonderful contacts while doing so. And in between all of the work-related business we had, we also got to explore the city a little bit, making for an amazing week full of new experiences and new contacts.

A man from a village outside of Banaue using a traditional work knife.

The moon rising over a hazy Baguio City.

MUSING NO. 2: ADJUSTMENTS

My nose is bleeding! my friend said, mid-conversation.

Oh shoot, what happened, do you need a tissue or something? I said

No, he laughed, too much English!

Once again, an idiom had gotten the best of me.

The more I adjust to Filipino culture, the more I become confused, a phenomenon akin to the adage, “the more you learn the less you know.” I am at a place now in my stay here where I am comfortable in situations that were daunting to me the first few weeks. I can go to the grocery store alone. I can jump into a jeepney and go practically anywhere. I know what foods I like, and what foods I don’t. I better understand social cues and how to approach people. All in all, I feel more at home. But with each of these new skills, I allow myself to be more vulnerable to the nuances of Filipino culture. Once I was able to push past the “completely clueless tourist” identity, people I interacted with seemed more comfortable expressing things to me, knowing I would be able to at least navigate the basics. When first arriving here, my mind threw large chunks of what I encountered into neatly labeled boxes, which helped me take baby steps into the culture. As I’ve learned more about my surroundings, though, those boxes have divided into smaller more numerous boxes, some breaking from the others and developing into new conceptual categories. I can no longer assume the things I did when I first stepped foot in the Philippines, and with every step I have to be vigilant of the different identities and nuances I am encountering. Though confusing at some times, as illustrated in the interaction above, I’m excited to finally be able to explore Filipino culture further, with each new surprise keeping me hungry for more adventures.

Eating a late night snack in Los Banos with new friends.

 

WORK NO. 3: DATA

I’d like to take some time to talk more about the work that I’ve been doing at IRRI.  As mentioned before, I am interning in a division of IRRI called Sustainable Impact, and more specifically I am part of a project called the Heirloom Rice Project (HRP). My duties have been varied, and I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to work on a multitude of different projects. Initially, I was stationed in an office with my supervisors and fellow interns, and our first project was data analysis. The SI division has been visiting the mountain provinces in the Cordilleras and conducting surveys with farmers, looking at their farming practices, nutrition, and general food security. In an effort to discover trends and possible concerns these farmers are having, part of our job was to encode this data, and to analyse it. One trend we have found so far in these surveys is that the average age of all farmers interviewed is 50+, a problem that echos something most of the farmers I have met have vocalized: young people in their community are leaving agriculture. This exodus of young people from these farming communities is unsustainable, meaning that there will be no one to take the places of these farmers when they retire from their work. This issue is particularly worrisome when considering the heritage and culture woven tightly around the farming of heirloom rice. If there is no one to continue farming generationally-relayed rice, it could begin to disappear, taking all of its embedded culture with it. These surveys are telling and thus important for the HRP, as the project aims to preserve heirloom rice and the culture that surrounds it for the indigenous communities of the Cordillera mountains. Being able to see the the importance of quantitative data has been a good experience for me, and it has been fascinating to see trends emerge as the HRP team continues the surveys. It has also been reassuring to see that many of these trends are matching what farmers are anecdotally telling us, a validation of the ever-important local knowledge possessed by these farmers.

One of the farmers lets me photograph her after our interview. Seeing the people that actually contribute the data is much more important than just seeing numbers in an excel spreadsheet. 

PLAY NO 1: PALAWAN

One of my favorite weekend trips was our vacation to the island of Palawan, a beautiful area just an hour plane ride away from Manila. It’s one of the tourist hotspots, and as such was recommended to me constantly. We procured a day off from work on Friday, and left that morning to Manila, arriving in Palawan around 12pm. From the airport in Palawan, we traveled two hours north to where we had booked two rooms at a nice beach resort right by the famous underground river, a stretch of ocean that flows through a cave system. For the rest of the day on Friday we just enjoyed the beaches and relaxed, a much needed destresser after traveling.  The next day, we got to visit the underground river, which was just a short boat ride from our hotel! Having never been in a cave before, I was excited, especially because I had heard so many amazing things about this particular attraction. We arrived on the beach where the underground river was located, and though we were warned there would be monkeys, none seemed to be in the area at the time (not going to lie, I was pretty disappointed there were no monkeys). Luckily, though, it did not seem to be an overly busy day, so we were loaded into a small paddle boat and carried away to the mouth of the cave, an opening in the side of a cliff. Once we were inside, we were surrounded by hundreds of bats, the occasional other boat, and darkness. Our tour guide had a flashlight, so we were able to see the beautiful rock formations in the cave that the underground river is famous for. It was eerie inside, but unlike any place I had ever been, completely alien to me.  At one point our guide turned off his light and all we could do was listen to the bats, the dripping of water from the ceiling, and whatever else might have been out there. It was a strangely calming experience. After leaving the cave (it was only about a 30 minute tour) we went back to our hotel on the beach, and spent the rest of the day shopping, swimming, and exploring, a wonderful way to end our trip to Palawan!

The entrance to the famous underground river, right before we journeyed inside.

WORK NO. 2: BANAUE

We arrived in the Philippines on a Monday.  Orientation through our program was on Tuesday, and on Wednesday, myself and a few other peers in my division embarked on our first journey.  Our destination? Banaue, a town located in the Cordillera Mountains, a beautiful and historically rich mountain range famous for its rice terraces. Time to destination? A 14 hour car ride. Provisions? Some dramamine and a lot of fast food.

Bring it on, Philippines.

As the dramamine coaxed me into a relaxed state, I spent most of the drive sleeping or hazily examining my surroundings as we drove past them.  Lots of people, lots of shops, and lots of dogs (seriously, there are so many stray dogs in the Philippines). After the 14 hour drive, we arrived at a hotel in Banaue, and as our supervisor attended a conference for the remainder of the day, we were guided to the houses of two heirloom rice farmers. The first farmer was a man named Jimmy, the manager of a prominent rice farming cooperative. We had the opportunity to interview him over coffee, and he helped to demystify heirloom rice for us, explaining his work as a leader in his rice farming community. After chatting with Jimmy, we all bought some of the heirloom rice from his shop, sorting through different packages full of vibrant rice varieties (I also bought some rice wine, it had been a long trip).

The next farmer we visited was named Ana. To meet Ana, our interpreter took us on a small ten minute hike through the woods that dipped downwards from the side of the road. Her home overlooked acres of rice terraces, a beautiful view as we emerged from the trees. We interviewed Ana just as we had Jimmy, and she explained some of her farming techniques to us, furthered our understanding of heirloom rice, and expressed some concerns she had with the changing landscape of terrace farming in the Cordilleras. Signing her log book, we realized we were among dozens of people that had recently visited her, a reminder of the growing interest in these farming communities from outside bodies such as IRRI and the DA. Being associated with a government funded research institute, I can’t help but wonder what long term impact we will have on the people in these communities, environmentally, socially, and culturally. I can only hope that the change the HRP brings to the Cordilleras has a positive impact, as intended, and that I may contribute to that positive change in any way possible.  

Ana, an heirloom rice farmer from Banaue, shows me a book about heirloom rice farming and culture that she researched and compiled in 2017. David,  in the green, was our interpreter as we interviewed her.

WORK NO. 1: INTRODUCTION

So OFFICIALLY, I am an intern at the International Rice Research Institute (IRRI) of the Philippines, located in Los Banos, Laguna. More specifically, I am interning as a part of the Sustainable Impact division of IRRI. And within that division, I am working on a project called the Heirloom Rice Project (HRP).  What is the HRP you may ask? It is a joint project between the Department of Agriculture and IRRI that seeks to preserve and sustainably support heirloom rice farming communities in the Philippines. Heirloom rice is a special category of rice referring to varieties that have been passed down for generations within farming communities. These varieties are genetically diverse and specially farmed in select environments, meaning that they look, taste, and affect consumers differently from regular rice varieties. Heirloom rice is culturally significant, too. It is farmed in the Cordillera mountains of Luzon, and it is deeply intertwined with the indigenous farmers of these regions who have been producing it for hundreds, or even thousands, of years. Because they lived in higher elevation than lowland farmers, these farmers developed rice terraces, complexly-engineered forms of rice paddies made to accommodate the downward nature of the mountains. They resemble steps cut out of the mountains, and are truly wonders of human ingenuity. So being a part of a project that seeks to preserve these terraces, the communities that built them, and the rice varieties that feed the communities, is something I am incredibly excited about.

 

Now a little bit about IRRI…

 

IRRI was founded in 1960 as a response to growing global food insecurity, and has, throughout its 50+ years, been a leading innovator of rice research and sustainability in the Philippines. Given its world-renowned nature, I was honestly intimidated when I first arrived at IRRI. The institute is fenced in, with two gated and guarded entrances, and it uncannily resembles a military compound. The architecture is brutalist, simple and formed around functionality above all else. Apart from how it looks upon arrival, though, IRRI is a truly lovely place. The institute is microcosmal and self-sustaining, and has a hospital, a cafeteria, a gym, housing, and, among other things, a large fleet of vehicles. Students and faculty of all nationalities and disciplines make their way around IRRI’s “campus,” so I am constantly meeting people from different walks of life. The general atmosphere is collaborative, and everyone I’ve met here has their own academic and scientific agenda. Whether it be researching frogs in the rice fields, working with DNA in the labs, or developing sustainable rice farming practices, everyone here is connected by one encompassing goal: to make the world a better place through rice science (this is strikingly similar to the motto of the institute, I admit). And while I’m just a temporary intern, I am excited to be a part of something that is working towards such an ambitious goal, contributing in any way that I can and learning as much as possible along the way.  

The beautiful view on my way to work each morning.

MUSING NO. 1

We are all sitting on metal bleachers, roofed but wet, as an onslaught of rain threatens to soak us before we even step into the rice fields. A Filipino man is facing the bleachers with a microphone in his hand and its wireless speaker counterpart hooked around his shoulder and resting on his hip. He’s sporting a sun hat and knee-high rice paddy boots, and the rain spills over the sides of his hat as he speaks to us. The microphone isn’t working but he still holds it up to his mouth as he speaks.

Are any of you familiar with the rice plant? he asks us.

A girl confidently nods in response.

Not yet, he chuckles.

I’ve discovered local knowledge to be a powerful point of learning as I involve myself in a culture so alien to my own. For the rest of that morning, my peers and I got to learn some of the ways that rice is grown, planted, and harvested, and we had the opportunity to step into the fields and attempt some of the practices ourselves (with laughable results). Though it was just a small look into rice farming, this experience emphasized something that I had worried about before coming to the Philippines: knowing so little. Before the trip, I feared the fact that I was about to be immersed in a culture that I had no inside knowledge of, but now I feel my lack of knowing is one of my best tools here as an intern, a researcher, a budding anthropologist, and a tourist. It reminds me to listen more to the people I encounter, as their knowledge of the culture they participate in (and build upon) is far more useful and expansive than my own. It also reminds me to attempt to decontextualize myself. It is impossible to interpret my surroundings without involving my own preconceived notions, biases, and opinions informed by my personal culture, so distancing myself from that whenever I can and listening to others has proven to be a pivotal part of my experience here in the Philippines. As I continue my journey, I hope to learn through what others do and say, and to actively participate in activities that break me out of my comfort zone and force me to jump into the unknown.

One of the farmers from the fields surrounding IRRI teaching me how to operate an automatic planter during our IRRI orientation.