Hukay is a Tagalog term that can either be the verb “to dig” or a noun, “a hole in the ground as a result of digging”. It also means “an excavation” among archaeology practitioners in the Philippines. Published twice a year, Hukay is the refereed journal of the University of the Philippines ‐ Archaeological Studies Program. We accept articles on the archaeology, ethnoarchaeology, palaeoenvironmental studies, and heritage of the Asia and Pacific regions.

The Editors and the Reviewers are not responsible and should not be held liable for any personal views or opinions expressed here by the contributing authors. All questions and/or reactions to such should be addressed to the author(s) concerned.

Founding Editor Hukay Reviewers Victor J. Paz Marta Arzarello, Università di Ferrara, Italy Editor Angel Bautista, National Museum of the Philippines Grace Barretto‐Tesoro Peter Bellwood, Australian National University John Carman, University of Birmingham Associate Editors Nestor Castro, University of the Philippines Donna Arriola Earl of Cranbrook V, Saxmundham, Suffolk, UK Michelle S. Eusebio Eusebio Dizon, National Museum of the Philippines Anna L. Pineda Christophe Falgueres, Muséum National d'Histoire Tara Reyes Naturelle, France Timothy Vitales Lawrence Heaney, The Field Museum, USA Helen Lewis, University College Dublin, Ireland Layout and Cover Design William Logan, Deakin University, Australia Anna L. Pineda William Longacre, University of Arizona Ma. Kathryn Ann B. Manalo Armand Mijares, University of the Philippines John Miksic, National University of Singapore Archaeological Studies Program, Rintaro Ono, Australian National University Palma Hall, University of the Alfred Pawlik, University of the Philippines Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City Victor Paz, University of the Philippines http://www.upd.edu.ph/~asp/hukay John Peterson, University of Guam

Philip Piper, University of the Philippines © Archaeological Studies Program Ryan J. Rabett, University of Cambridge All Rights Reserved Wilfredo Ronquillo, National Museum of the Philippines No copies can be made in part or in Mokhtar Saidin, Universiti Sains Malaysia whole without prior written Cecilio Salcedo, National Museum of the Philippines permission from the author and the François Sémah, Muséum National d'Histoire Naturelle, publisher. France Fernando Siringan, University of the Philippines ISSN 0119 173X Wilhelm Solheim II, University of the Philippines Now available online at Miriam Stark, University of Hawai’i - Manoa www.orientalscholar.com Janelle Stevenson, Australian National University Rita Tan, Oriental Ceramics Society - Philippines Delfin Tolentino, University of the Philippnes - Baguio On the cover: Gert van den Bergh, University of Wollongong, Australia Decorated red‐slipped rim sherd Zandro Villanueva, University of the Philippines with white inlay, Figure 5 of John de Vos, National Museum of Natural History, Balbaligo’s article (this volume). Leiden

Hukay Journal for Archaeological Research in Asia and the Pacific

Volume 15

2010

Archaeological Studies Program University of the Philippines 2010

Contents

i Foreword ii Erratum 1 Preliminary Report on the Earthenware Pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan, Philippines Yvette Balbaligo 21 Lost in the Retelling: Washed‐out Balitok (Gold) in Ibaloi Generational Memory Ibaloi Diaspora into Benguet (Part 2) Michael Armand Canilao 31 Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces: Establishing Antiquity and Social Organisation Stephen Acabado

BOOK REVIEWS 61 Criselda Yabes. 2009. The Boys from the Barracks: The Philippine Military After EDSA (Updated Version). Anvil Publishing. Review by Roel Flores 62 Toh Goda (ed.). 2008. Urbanization and Formation of Ethnicity in Southeast Asia. Quezon City: New Day Publisher Review by Eleanor Marie S. Lim 72 Memories of a Dutchman during the Birth of a Nation. Review by Joan Tara Reyes. Otto van den Muijzenberg. 2008. The Philippines through European Lenses: Late 19th Century Photographs from the Meerkamp van Embden Collection. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press 80 Cecilia Y. Locsin, Maria Isabel G. Ongpin, and Socorro Paz P. Paterno. 2008. A Lemery Archaeological Sequence. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press Review by Anna L. Pineda 84 Andrew Jones. 2007. Memory and Material Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Review by Riczar B. Fuentes 90 Katrin de Guia. 2005. Kapwa: The Self in Others. Worldviews and Lifestyles of Filipino Culture Bearers. Pasig City: Anvil Publishing Review by Arch. Ferdinand dela Paz 92 Toh Goda. 2003. Postcolonialism and Local Politics in Southeast Asia. Quezon City: New Day Publisher Review by Donna Arriola 95 Toh Goda. 2002. Cordillera: Diversity in Culture Change. Social Anthropology of Hill People in Northern Luzon, Philippines. Quezon City: New Day Publishers Review by Michael Armand Canilao i

Foreword

This is the last issue of Hukay that the current Associate Editors will be involved in. Tara Reyes, Donna Arriola, and Michelle Eusebio have recently finished their masters from the University of the Philippines‐ Archaeological Studies Program (UP‐ASP). Anna Pineda is in the process of writing her masters thesis. With these departures from the scene, we also welcome the new editors who will shepherd Hukay beginning with the next volume: Ma. Kathryn Ann B. Manalo and Kathleen Tantuico, both from the UP‐ASP. Manalo is well‐versed in Philippine history and is also specialising in use‐wear of stone tools, while Tantuico has recently done some ethnoarchaeological work in Southern Luzon, Philippines. This issue of Hukay again deals with various themes, and the region of Cordillera Central has always had fascination for me. I am intrigued by the peoples and cultures found there. Despite its geography and remoteness, people continue to be drawn and moved by its splendour, and have tried to conquer its beauty but never quite succeeded. The region’s history is slowly unveiled, yet remains elusive. Not totally isolated, as others have perceived the highlands, lowland and upland should never be separated; two articles in this volume highlight their interrelatedness. I believe these articles on the Cordillera will add to our knowledge of the mountainous region. Canilao and Acabado managed to integrate different approaches to the study of the settlement and agricultural terrace system, thereby creating a more systematic history of the place. Their contributions may be contentious for some, but this new studies maintain that indeed the Cordillera was neither isolated nor separated. Another issue that is addressed in this volume is the decorative elements of the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay Pottery Tradition. Balbaligo discusses the characteristics of earthenware pottery in Ille Cave, Palawan, Philippines, but eventually challenges the occurrence of Sa Huynh‐Kalanay elements in the assemblage she analysed. A note on the book reviews: some of the books reviewed here were published a few years ago. They, nevertheless, continue to be relevant to Philippine history and culture. We thank the Ateneo de Manila University ii Press, New Day Publishers, and Anvil Publishing, Inc. for the complimentary books that are reviewed here.

Grace Barretto‐Tesoro Editor

Erratum

The following revisions are made to the article from the last volume: Piper, P.J., Campos, F.Z. and Hung, H‐c. 2009. A study of the animal bones recovered from Pits 9 and 10 at the site of Nagsabaran in Northern Luzon, Philippines. Hukay 14: 47‐ 90. Page 82 paragraph 2 line 17: “Canis domesticus” should read “Canis familiaris”

Reference Updates Campos, F. Z. 2009. The ichthyoarchaeology of Batanes Islands, northern Philippines. Unpublished Masters Thesis, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines Piper, P.J., H‐c. Hung, F. Z. Campos, P. Bellwood and R. Santiago. 2009. A 4,000 year old introduction of domestic pigs into the Philippine archipelago: implications for understanding the routes of human migration through Island Southeast Asia and Wallacea. Antiquity 83 (321):687‐695. Preliminary Report on the Earthenware Pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan, Philippines

Yvette Balbaligo1

Abstract Between 2004 and 2008, approximately 12,600 earthenware pottery sherds were excavated at Ille Cave and Rockshelter, a multi‐period burial and occupation site and one of several cave complexes in El Nido, Palawan, the Philippines. The report presents the results from the first systematic analysis of the pottery. It gives details of pottery quantities, describes fabric and form, and discusses manufacture and decoration styles.

Introduction This paper reports on the preliminary results of analysis on the earthenware pottery excavated at Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan, the Philippines, between 2004 and 2008 (Figure 1). This is the first systematic study of the Ille earthenware since they were excavated. This report provides a description of fabric and form, and discusses the decorative variability. The analysis of the earthenware forms part of the results for PhD research currently in progress. Fieldwork at Ille Cave and Rockshelter started in 1998 by the National Museum of the Philippines and the University of the Philippines‐ Archaeological Studies Program (UP‐ASP) (Hara and Cayron 2001). In the early years, ceramics were found mostly on the surface and at shallow 1 Institute of Archaeology, University College London, 31‐34 Gordon Square, London WC1H 0PY UK. Email: [email protected]

Hukay Volume 15, pp. 1‐20 2 Balbaligo

Figure 1. Map of the Philippines showing Ille Cave and Rockshelter site, El Nido on Palawan Island. depths and included decorated and undecorated earthenware, stoneware and porcelain sherds (Hara and Cayron 2001). However, none of the finds could be associated with confidence to any of the surfaces recognised at the site as there had been so much large scale turbation (human and natural) in the upper layers where the sherds were recovered. It was assumed that all these artefacts were in secondary deposition; mostly as part of fills for burial pits dug through the centuries (ASP 2005‐2006; Paz and Ronquillo Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 3 2004). In 2004, the UP‐ASP with an international collaboration, resumed excavations at the site and a new recording system was implemented. The trenches were trowel excavated in single contexts and recorded. This ensured that in successive years, all artefacts recovered were from a secure context and recorded and accessioned systematically. This research examines the earthenware found in the five‐year period from 2004 to 2008. As a standardised recording system has been used since 2004, the pottery excavated in these years can be confidently associated to the stratigraphy of the site. There is a long history of pottery studies in the Philippines and Southeast Asia. The most notable study on Philippine ceramics has been by Solheim (2002 [1964]) who proposed four pottery complexes—Sa Huynh‐ Kalanay, Novaliches, Bau‐Malay and Loboc—based on excavations and museum collections. As this is the biggest body of work carried out, many researchers since have attempted to fit or associate pottery excavated in the Philippines to one of these categories. With the Ille assemblage, in previous years, it has been reported that “the earthenware ranges from numerous examples and varieties of elaborately decorated sherds in the Sa Huynh‐ Kalanay pottery tradition, through to more simple incised or impressed wares and completely plain wares… It has been proposed that the elaborately incised Sa Huynh‐Kalanay vessels were used exclusively in ceremonial contexts” (Kress 2006:25). However, this research to date indicates that while the earthenware might have been for ritual use, some of the decorations may not in fact be from the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition. Some of the styles are similar and there may be some relatedness between designs but the Ille earthenware does not have the dominant style traits associated with the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition. The decorated sherds show various designs, “based on comparisons with previous archaeological studies, some of the designs have been traced back to time depths of 4500 to 3000 years ago” (ASP 2005‐ 2006:29). A variety of the designs, mostly geometric forms, are usually associated with what is conventionally called the Metal Age Period in Philippine archaeology, c.2500 to 1500 years ago (ASP 2005‐2006). Cord marked, basket marked and paddle impressed designs might even be earlier as these designs are found in Southeast Asia and associated with the Neolithic (see Solheim 2003). In contrast to the vast amounts of earthenware excavated, only few tradeware pottery sherds have been found on the surface and in sub‐surface fills and there was a limited presence of tradeware pottery found in the Dewil Valley. Tradeware, 4 Balbaligo comprising stoneware, celadon and porcelain, range from 10th century CE to 14th century CE (ASP 2005‐2006; Paz and Ronquillo 2004). During excavations, tradeware sherds were found in the same contexts as earthenware, but tradeware were not found in all contexts (Balbaligo 2009). Separate investigations are needed on the tradeware at Ille and in the Dewil Valley.

Methodology An initial typology was created to classify and quantify the Ille earthenware stored at the UP‐ASP. The typology was based on diagnostic sherds which were sherds with surface decorations and clear morphologies. These were immediately recognisable amongst the many sherds in the assemblage by macroscopic observation. These preliminary categories were: (1) Plain body sherds—i.e. non‐decorated and morphologically non‐diagnostic; (2) Decorated body sherds; (3) Rims; (4) Carinations; (5) Bases; and (6) Others. Body sherds were divided into plain sherds (1) without decoration or ‘plain ware’ and decorated sherds (2). These body sherds did not have any other diagnostic morphological features, such as rims or bases. The plain body sherds category also contained plain neck sherds which had distinct concave necks. Necks are defined by Rice (1987:212) as a “restriction of the opening of a vessel, beginning above the point of maximum diameter of the body, that is at some point on the shoulder”. Decorated sherds, refers only to incised and impressed designs and not surface treatments, such as slips, glazes or paints. With the rim category (3), the sherds were not divided into plain and decorated. It was also difficult differentiating between lip and foot rims. In this analysis, they were not distinguished and placed in the same category. The carinations (4) and bases (5) categories were not divided into plain and decorated sherds. The others category (6) comprised forms which did not fit into any of the above categories. By using these six tentative pottery types, it is possible to provide an overall description of the basic characteristics of the assemblage. After the sherds were sorted into the six categories above, the sherds were counted. All care was taken to ensure that the count was correct and that no other non‐earthenware artefacts were included. After the sherds had been classified and counted, they were then taken out of their categories and grouped into the stratigraphic contexts in which they were excavated. The sherds which did not have context numbers were sorted into groups for the East and West mouth trenches. This was done to Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 5 examine: how many sherds were excavated within a context; the variation of sherds types within a context, and the variation of surface decorations that occurred within a context. The results generated by this analysis will be used to map where the sherds occur within the stratigraphy and what other artefacts were found in that context. This will contribute towards an interpretation of the depositional history for each context. It will also be useful for dating the pottery relative to other artefacts in the same context and where the pottery occurs within the Ille cultural sequence. A macroscopic analysis was then carried out on a sample of the earthenware. This sample was selected to construct a more detailed typology. The sample comprised: a total sample of all decorated earthenware, carinations and unusual, unique or notable forms; a stratified sample of the majority of the rims; and a stratified sample of a range of fabric colours. Where possible, samples came from a secure context. 1000 sherds were analysed. Attributes such as size, thickness, temper were recorded on to a database and will be used to create types. These results will be published at a later date.

Results Quantities The total number of earthenware sherds excavated between 2004 and 2008 is 12,629 (Table 1). Though this count aimed to be conclusive, it may be incomplete due to sherds being kept by other researchers for examination and not declared.

Table 1. Total number of earthenware sherds found between 2004 and 2008. Category Diagnostic type Number of sherds

1 Plain body sherds 10,652 2 Decorated body sherds 626

3 Rims 1066

4 Carinations 216

5 Bases 56 6 Others 13

Total number of sherds 12,629 6 Balbaligo Fabric The condition of the sherds varied. Generally the sherds were worn with details still visible and clear. A brief macroscopic observation of fabric was carried out, taking into account physical characteristics of the fired clay to provide a basic description and a convenient naming system. This was mostly based on the colour of the clay and firing characteristics. A partial naming system already exists for the Ille earthenware based on colour and this naming system will continue to be used. Three fabric categories based on dominant colours were distinguished. These were: grey ware; brown ware; and red ware. However, there are also variations in these classes of colour. Many red ware sherds were red‐slipped, however, not all red coloured sherds were slipped. Red ware ranged from light reddish oranges (Reddish Yellow 5 YR 5/6, Munsell Color Company 2000) to dark reddish browns (Dark Reddish Brown 5 YR 3/2). Similarly grey and brown wares ranged between darker and lighter shades. Colour, disregarding slips and paints, is determined by the type of clay, the mineral composition—the kinds and amounts of iron compounds and organic matter—and how it reacts on firing. These observations did not take into account surface treatments such as slips, glazes, polishes or paints which might have given the vessel a different colour in parts, therefore sherds were categorised by the majority colour. Some sherds’ exteriors were a different colour to the interior depending on exposure during firing. However, sherds were categorised according to the exterior. While colour is useful in the first instance to categorise earthenware, colour is not always an indicator of common clay source for similar sherds, and pottery made from the same clay source may not be of the same colour as clays change on firing depending on condition. This will be taken into consideration in further analyses. The earthenware contained a variety of inclusions. Carlos (2006) has already identified organic tempers, such as grass and woody materials in the sherds, and possibly rice. The inclusions in other sherds were mostly coarse fluvial sand comprising angular quartz grains and angular rock fragments. The angularity of the inclusions suggests that they were crushed and added to the clay as temper. A few sherds with coarse clay contained whole gastropods which were still present because of low firing temperatures. Grog may also be present but this requires further investigation. Thin‐sections of a selection of the earthenware are being prepared and will be petrographically analysed. As this pottery is termed ‘earthenware’ it is evident that the pottery Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 7 was fired at a low temperature. The earthenware may have been fired between 350° and 900–1000° centigrade (Rice 1987:5). No evidence of earthenware firing, such as kilns or remains of open fires/bonfires, have been found in the Dewil Valley, however, it is likely that open fires were used. Certain attributes of the sherds attest to this, such as the porosity of the sherds and the cores. Most of the red wares have oxidised exteriors, unoxidised cores and oxidised interiors, where the core is greyish black and is the part of the sherd which was the least exposed during firing. Orton et al. (1993: 69) state that “pots whose cores are black or dark grey probably contain carbon derived from the incomplete burning of organic material in the fabric. As this carbon is burnt it will take oxygen and this can lead to local reduction of the fabric and hence a grey colour”. Furthermore, Orton et al. (1993) show that sherds with sharp cores margin have reduced and are cooled rapidly in air. This is the case with some of the Ille earthenware.

Form Certain aspects of a vessel’s form are determined by its intended function (Orton et al. 1993). However, at Ille, no whole intact vessels were found except for one small jarlet excavated in 2006 (see Eusebio 2006) and in 2008, at least three broken whole vessels were excavated. With the Ille assemblage it is difficult to infer form, height and diameter, and thus, difficult to ascertain function. The majority of the sherds were small morphologically non‐diagnostic body sherds. No refitting exercises of small sherds have taken place due to time constraints. Wall thickness also relates to the size of the vessel and provides evidence of intended use. This will be examined at a later date. Forms ranged from vessels with restricted orifices with protruding everted and outcurving lips and distinct convex necks; to unrestricted inverted and incurving orifices which suggests neckless jars or shallow vessels, for examples bowls or dishes (for example see Figure 2). The rim category (3) comprised mouth and foot rims. At this stage in the process, it is difficult to say with certainty whether some rims are mouths or foot rims/bases. Rim sherds were the second most frequent sherds in the Ille assemblage and can provide the most information for assessing the size and shape of the vessel. By fitting the curve of a rim to a standard diameter‐measurement template, the orifice diameter can be calculated as well as the percentage of the total rim circumference. While the orifice diameter varied according to the many sizes of the different vessels, the majority of the rims sherds ranged from 5% to 30% of the total vessel orifice circumference. Rim forms will also be examined at a later 8 Balbaligo date. The rims in the Ille assemblage can be broken down into three categories; plain rims; decorated rims; and rims with decorations on the lips. The majority of the rims were plain and undecorated. Some of the lip rim edges were distinctly blackened which may have been the result of a surface treatment to the lip which blackened on firing or where the lip was more exposed as the extremity of the vessel when fired. This occurred on plain as well as decorated vessels. Carinations are a clear diagnostic characteristic. At the corner point, the direction of the tangent changes at an angle and abruptly shows a sharp change in contour. This sometimes marks a fixed division in the vessel (Shepard 1956) or marks a change in decoration. The sherds in the carination category (4) showed sharp carinations where the angles ranged from 84° to 155°. However, the assemblage also contained rounded carinations where the angle was less sharp and created a more rounded curve. Carinations can be found on decorated and undecorated vessels. Figure 3a has a conventionally sharp corner point at 107°. This sherd is discussed further below. Figure 3b show a decorated carination with stamp marks typical of the Ille assemblage. The carination is rounded with a wide angle at 125°. This decorative style is also discussed below. The base category (5) was the smallest category of diagnostic sherds. The bases consisted of completely flat bottoms, rounded bottoms, and footed vessels of pedestal bowls where it was clear that the rim of the vessel was a base.

Figure 2. IV‐1998‐P‐43411‐43418, west mouth, context 1517, almost complete plain red‐slipped shallow bowl. Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 9

Figure 3. Left 3a: IV‐1998‐P‐43003, west mouth, context 75, decorated carination with red paint, impressed with punctates. Right 3b: IV‐1998‐P‐42619, west mouth, context 705, decorated red‐slipped carinated sherd.

Rice (1987) defines the base (sometimes called the foot) as the underside of a vessel, touching the surface it rests on during normal use. However, while this is self‐evident for flat‐based vessels, for round‐based vessels it is hard to distinguish the base from the side. With round‐based vessels, even when the entire lower portion does not touch the surface, it is still called a base. Of the many plain body sherds that were small and curved concavely, it was hard to distinguish whether these sherds were part of the body or the curve of a base. For example, the only whole jarlet (Eusebio 2006) is small and slightly ellipsoid. If broken, it would be difficult to tell which sherds were from the bottom of the vessel. Amongst some of the sherds in the others category (6) were the only square lid excavated (ASP 2005‐2006), a few appliqué handles and the whole and almost complete vessels. All of the earthenware vessels were hand‐formed and some were slab‐built and slab‐layered – where a layer of clay had been added to a pre‐ existing layer. The paddle‐and‐anvil technique was used and could be seen on many of the sherds as they had bumps and an uneven interior where the vessel had been struck by a paddle and shaped by an anvil. The paddle also smoothed the exterior and was sometimes decorated (see below). Some sherds showed straight and even horizontal lines which look like incisions around the exterior of the vessel, especially near the rim. These are marks from stone polishing. However, this smoothing technique was not burnishing.

10 Balbaligo Decoration The plain body sherd category (1) refers to sherds which did not have incised or impressed decorations. However, they may have had surface treatments, such as slips, glazes, polishes or paints, but this was not investigated. Without conducting a microscopic examination, it was difficult to distinguish with certainty any surface treatments on the sherds. The majority of the earthenware sherds were plain body sherds. This is to be expected as for most vessels, far more sherds result from the breakage of the body which has a greater surface area than from the proportionately smaller rim and base regions (Rice 1987). However, this does not mean that most of the vessels were plain as some vessels may have had sections which were plain and decorated and depending on where the vessel broke, the sherd would show either the decorated or undecorated part of the vessel. Therefore, the amounts of plain wares and decorated sherds are not representative of the amount of plain and decorated whole vessels that may have been present at Ille. The decorated body sherds category (2) included impressed designs; with a paddle or a stamp impressed into the wet clay; incised designs where vessels were incised with an implement; or a mixture of impressed and incised designs—which is more common. Rice (1987:244) states that “for archaeologists, styles—especially pottery styles—have long been important in reconstructing the histories and cultural relation of peoples who occupied archaeological sites.” Furthermore, Rice (1987:244) says that “styles are generally considered visual representations, specific to particular contexts of time and place, that at the least transmit information about the identity of a society that produced the style and about the situation or location it appears”. In Philippine archaeology, decoration and style have been one of the most explored aspects of pottery and has been the primary attribute for categorisation (cf., Solheim 2002). Impressed designs have a sense of repetition and uniformity due to the implement used. The common designs which were impressed, evenly or irregularly upon the bodies of vessels, were made with cord, vine and basket bound paddles. Sometimes the impressions crossed over themselves, while carved paddles formed squares of various sizes. Figure 4a shows a grey sherd with standard cord marked paddle impressions. The cords are visibly tight and twisted and show ribs and clear grooves. This is a common design across Southeast Asia (Solheim 2003) and at Ille, this design only occurs on grey ware. Similar designs and methods of decoration can be seen in the Tabon Pottery Complex which may Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 11

Figure 4. Left 4a: IV‐1998‐P‐41591, west mouth, context 1844, grey ware, cord‐ bound paddle impressed sherd. Middle 4b: IV‐1998‐P‐42399, west mouth, context 1899, brown ware, vine‐bound paddle impressed sherd. Right 4c: IV‐1998‐P‐ 20126, east mouth, no context, grey ware, carved paddle impressed sherd. demonstrate they were manufactured in a similar way. The cord impressions show they were made with a bound paddle. Fox (1970: 83, after Solheim 1964) says the cord impressions were achieved by “wrapping a paddle with twine of various sizes and spacings. The cord design was then transferred to the plastic surface of the vessel by paddling which produces negative impressions.” Figure 4b shows a vine impressed brown sherd, however, unlike the cord marked sherd, the vines are loose with bigger gaps between the grooves and the impressions are fainter. This design occurs on both grey and brown sherds. This decoration is the second most occurring in the assemblage but much less frequent than the cord marked impressions. Figure 4c shows a carved paddle impression of squares. Other frequently occurring impressed designs are what look like c stamps and s stamps impressed into the wet clay and made with the circular tip of reeds or small bamboo. There are only four permutations of these stamps found at Ille; (1) consecutive c stamps either horizontal, vertical or diagonal (the most common occurring stamp pattern—see Figures 5a and 5b); (2) s stamps formed from two joining c stamps (see upper carination of Figure 3b); (3) continuous alternating joined c stamps (see lower carination of Figure 3b); and (4) facing c stamps. This particular design occurs only on red‐slipped vessels and has been interpreted as Metal Age pottery (ASP 2005‐2006; Paz and Ronquillo 2004). The implications of these particular designs are discussed below. Many of these 12 Balbaligo c stamps occur across the rim of the vessel. They are usually delimited by horizontal bands which separate it from other sections of the design or creating registers across a vessel. Other designs which occur in registers include incised lines. The incised Ille earthenware show a variety of lines at varying depths incised into the wet clay. Some examples of incised designs include straight lines in varying styles; diagonals; cross‐hatchings; and some parallel to each other as well as forming geometric shapes such as triangles and rhombuses. Punctations also occur with these patterns and are impressions made with a simple tool, a pointed instrument such as bamboo or wood, and vary in size, depth and precision. In some sherds, especially the red‐slipped, where incisions and impressions have been made, between some of the grooves and in the impressed c shapes and s shapes, the designs contained a white mineral substance most likely lime, white clay (ASP 2005‐2006; Paz and Ronquillo 2004) or shell. This white substance effervesced when exposed to dilute hydrochloric acid (HCl) which indicates it is a form of calcium carbonate.

Figure 5. Top 5a: IV‐1998‐P‐38020, west mouth, no context, decorated red‐slipped rim sherd with white inlay. Bottom 5b: IV‐1998‐P‐35996, west mouth, context 883, decorated red‐slipped rim sherd. Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 13 Other decorative styles include paint applied to the exterior of the sherd though this is very rare. Figure 3a shows a carination with red paint which might be red ochre made from hematite. The punctates are very roughly impressed which is rare in the assemblage as they are usually more neatly impressed. With the decorated rims (3), no paddle impressed designs were found on necks or lips of rims. The most frequently occurring designs were incised lines, punctates, triangles shapes and c and s stamps. Most of these stamped designs were found very close to the rim edge which suggests an unrestricted vessel and possibly a foot rim. There are fewer instances of decorations on lips. These decorations are usually impressed with fingernails, thin sticks, tools or baskets. Figure 6a shows one layer of a cross‐hatched pattern across the lip forming rhombus patterns. Figure 6b shows a lip with diagonal lines impressed with a fingernail. Diagonal lines can be ‘positive’ or ‘negative’. Figure 6c shows an imprint of a basket across the lips. The practice of decorating rim lips is widespread in many different locations in Peninsular and Island Southeast Asia and western

Figure 6. Top left 6a: IV‐1998‐P‐42456, west mouth, context 1844, brown ware rim with decorated cross‐hatching on lip. Top right 6b: IV‐1998‐P‐15341, west mouth, context 227, brown ware rim with diagonal lines made with fingernails on lip. Bottom 6c: IV‐1998‐P‐14562, east mouth, context 63, brown ware rim with basket impressions on lip. 14 Balbaligo Micronesia (Solheim forthcoming).

Special earthenware finds Only one whole vessel has been recovered at Ille so far (Eusebio 2006). However, for the first time, in 2008, more almost complete vessels were excavated in the deep pit of the West mouth. An almost complete plain shallow bowl was found (Figure 2), broken into nine friable pieces and dried and refitted at UP‐ASP. The bowl has only one fragment missing which was not recovered during the excavation. However, this means that the cross‐section is fully visible which will allow for comparative studies of rim forms. Similarly, a complete plain foot stand (accession numbers IV‐ 1998‐P‐43272‐43273) was found with a section of the foot rim broken which allows a view of the foot rim in profile and can be compared to other similar vessels. The foot stand would have had an offering bowl above the foot, but this does not survive. A similar ritual vessel with a different morphology was found; a tall red‐slipped pedestal bowl (IV‐1998‐41685‐P‐ 41693) with incised geometric shapes and punctate decorations typically found on red‐slipped pottery. It would have been a very large vessel as the body must have extended further and the only surviving bowl fragment, with c stamps are large. Unfortunately no other pieces of the vessel were recovered. An unusual thin red‐slipped vessel (IV‐1998‐P‐41586‐41587) with typical Ille incised lines, punctates and c stamps was recovered. It is unusual as it is tall and cylindrical. As this is the biggest surviving piece, it is unknown how common this type of vessel was in the assemblage. It is probable that these large surviving vessels were for ritual purposes. Another almost intact vessel is the ellipsoid pot with thin walls and a rounded carination towards the base of the vessel (IV‐1998‐P‐41681). It completely lacks a rim but it was probably a restricted vessel. Another completely unusual and unique sherd was found with an everted rim, a carination that curves downwards—which is not seen in carinated forms at Ille—and more anomalously, it has a decorated handle appliqué with a hole in the middle of the handle (Figure 7). Only few handles have been found in the Ille assemblage but none are of this form or are still attached to the body of the vessel.

Discussion The preliminary results laid out in this report are from the first comprehensive examination of the Ille earthenware and gives details and provides evidence for what has previously been described in excavations Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 15 reports. Research so far has quantified the pottery, which can later be compared to quantities found in other sites in Palawan to see if there is any correlation, relatedness or significance; it has attributed the earthenware to

Figure 7. IV‐1998‐P‐41521, west mouth, no context, plain body sherd with rim, carination and handle.

contexts which will be used to situate the pottery within the site’s chronology and cultural sequences, and it can also be used to see to what extent other cultural materials can be associated with the pottery; and it sets out a starting point for analysing fabric and forms which can be compared to other forms and fabrics in Palawan, the Philippines and wider Southeast Asia. It has also described one set of decorative style which preliminary research so far suggests might be unique and has further implications. As stated, it was previously thought that the pottery was decorated in the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay style. However, while the decorated Ille earthenware shares some similar traits, the majority of the decorations may not be from the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition. One of the ways Sa Huynh‐Kalanay has been diagnosed is through pottery forms and decoration. More specifically, Solheim’s 2002 [1964] work has been used as the point of comparison. Decorations from Southeast Asian pottery have been compared to the variety of decoration from the Iron 16 Balbaligo Age Kalanay Cave site. Solheim (2002) illustrates the majority of the decorations found. However, none of the main diagnostic designs from the Kalanay Cave, and thus the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition, are actually found at Ille. For example, the most dominant repeating motifs in Solheim’s 2002 work are curvilinear scrolls, rectilinear scrolls, impressed or carved scallop decorations, crenelations, herring bones, zoomorphs and carved cut ring stands. These are not present in the Ille decorated assemblage. Furthermore, the dominant patterns and styles from Ille do not occur in the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay decoration types. One set of motifs from the Ille earthenware assemblage that do not appear in Solheim’s 2002 work on the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition are the c and s stamps on red‐slipped earthenware. Many semi‐circle and closed circle stamps are found ubiquitously across the Philippines and Southeast Asia. For example from Batanes, the Philippines, closed circle stamps are common (De Leon 2008) and in Sulawesi, Indonesia, there are various semi‐circular designs (Simanjuntak 2008). However, as seen in Figures 3b, 5a and 5b, the Ille c stamps are not semi‐circles or closed circles, and no semi‐circles or closed circle stamps have been found at Ille. So far, this design seems unique to Palawan. The only other excavation that has recovered c stamped earthenware sherds is at the Linaminan site, Sofronio Española, central Palawan (Szabó et al. 2006). Solheim (2008) notes the presence of red‐slipping and impressed circles inlaid with lime in the early pre‐Sa Huynh Kalanay Pottery, and he now categorises these as Sa Huynh‐ Kalanay. However further investigation is needed to state categorically whether this design belongs to the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition. Though cord, vine and basket bound paddle impressed pottery is also claimed to be Sa Huynh‐Kalanay, these techniques predates the notion of the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition and these styles were also ubiquitous in Southeast Asia. Therefore it is questionable whether ‘Sa Huynh‐Kalanay’ as an all encompassing term for a pottery tradition is useful. While the Ille assemblage and decorations from the Sa Huynh‐ Kalanay pottery tradition—and indeed earthenware pottery found in Southeast Asia—do share is some themes, such as linear horizontal bands, triangle patterns and some geometric shapes, the Ille assemblage looks distinctly different. Pottery across all of Southeast Asia shares some relatedness, but it is possible that they are not all Sa Huynh‐Kalanay. Though Ille shares some motifs, rather than categorising them directly as from the Sa Huynh‐Kalanay pottery tradition, at this stage if they are to be related to Sa Huynh‐Kalanay, it would be more prudent to call them a Sa Huynh‐Kalanay ‘type’, as they do not share the style traits of Sa Huynh‐ Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 17 Kalanay. A possible working hypothesis at the moment is that this variation comes from localised pottery production, which might have been adapted from other pottery traded or exchanged into the region. However, it is not known whether any vessels were locally made, as no kiln or open firing sites have been found in the vicinity, or whether they were traded/ exchanged. The closest evidence of pottery firing which the Ille pottery can be compared to comes from Fox’s (1970:78) study of the Tabon Caves pottery complex. He states that “the ethnographic record from Palawan and from elsewhere in the Philippines suggests that the pottery, after drying, was merely fired on top of the ground with fuel stacked and heaped around the vessels. The cross‐sections of sherds, particularly from the larger vessels, show unoxidised carbonaceous matter, and the interiors tend to have dark browns, grey‐browns, and red‐browns—are highly variable and uneven and fire‐clouding occurs. The characteristic difference in the colours of the pastes and surfaces of the vessels, even of the same vessel, and hardness indicate variation in both clay preparation and relatively little control over firing”. The cores and the unevenness of the exteriors show that the pottery might have been fired in the open. Local geological deposits and soils have not yet been explored as a potential for local raw clay sources. However, results from the petrographic analysis will be the starting point for understanding the composition of the pottery and can be related to deposits in the area. An examination of the manufacturing processes will also help establish whether there is common pottery‐making technology across the assemblage or if variation suggests other influences. Further unknowns about the pottery lie in its context and function. At this stage, it is most probable that the Ille pottery was used in ceremonial contexts. Its location and some of the designs would suggest this. Although no primary jar burials have been found (Kress 2006), Ille is undoubtedly a burial site as many inhumations have been found. The extent to which Ille was also a habitation site is unknown, as no domestic features have been found (Kress 2006). Furthermore, a secure chronology and periodisation has not yet been established. This is difficult due to the turbation in the upper layers at the site. Design will be a starting point for chronology, as stated above cord marked and red‐slipped pottery can be dated in other parts of Southeast Asia and this can be used comparatively with the Ille assemblage, as well as using the site stratigraphy as a means of relative dating and to establish a pottery sequence. To aid regional 18 Balbaligo comparison, the typologies and dating will be linked to other pottery typologies found in the Philippines, wider Southeast Asia. The results generated so far are the foundations for further investigation.

Author’s note At the time of going to press, the Palawan Workstation in Villadolid Hall, University of the Philippines, was established as a new repository and permanent work room for all materials excavated at Ille Cave and the surrounding areas. A box of excavated sherds unseen by the author in previous years was found. This box comprised mostly earthenware body sherds with diagnostic pieces and a range of tradeware. These sherds have been counted, contexts noted and a sample examined. A few previously unseen designs and forms were found however they do not contradict or compromise existing research and these sherds are consistent with the earthenware found in previous years. This brings the total of earthenware sherds to approximately 17,690. All artefacts from Palawan are now in one place and there should be no other outstanding unaccounted sherds.

Acknowledgements Many thanks to Prof. Victor Paz, Prof. Solheim and Dr. Grace Barretto‐Tesoro for all help and support, Dr. Helen Lewis and Dr. Ethan Cochrane who read drafts of this report and to the UP‐Anthropology students and UP‐ASP staff and students who accommodated me and helped with my research. Thanks also to the anonymous reviewers of this report for their comments, and to the UCL Institute of Archaeology and the UCL Graduate School who awarded fieldwork grants which made research trips possible.

References Archaeological Studies Program (ASP) 2005‐2006. Report on the excavation at Dewil Valley, El Nido Palawan. Unpublished report. Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines. Balbaligo, Y. 2009. Notes on the 2008 tradeware ceramics from Ille Cave, Palawan, the Philippines. Test Pit, 14: 15‐16. Carlos, J. 2006. Exploring the ‘landscape’ of a pottery sherd: notes on the Ille Cave rice imprints. Test Pit, 8: 27‐28. De Leon, A. S. 2008. Pottery and cultural interaction from 3000 to 600 BP Earthenware pottery from Ille Cave and Rockshelter, Palawan 19 Batanes, Northern Philippines. Unpublished Masters Thesis. Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines. Eusebio, M. S. 2006. Notes on the Earthenware Jarlet from the West Mouth. Test Pit, 8: 28. Fox, R. 1970. The Tabon Caves: Archaeological explorations and excavations on Palawan Island, Philippines. Manila: National Museum. Hara, Y. and J. G. Cayron. 2001. A preliminary report on the excavation of Ille Cave, El Nido, Palawan. Hukay. 3:(1) 81‐92. Kress, J. 2006. “The cemetery, West mouth excavations and notes on the early levels of the site.” In Lewis, H. A., V. Paz, J. Kress, M. G. Lara, J. G. L. Medrana, A. J. Carlos, P. Piper, V. Hernandez, H. Barton, E. Robles, T. J. Vitales, A. Ragragio, W. G. Solheim II, and W. Ronquillo. Early occupation at Ille Cave, New Ibajay, El Nido, Palawan, Philippines: Report on the 2005 excavation season. Unpublished report. British Academy, NERC/Orads & National Museum of the Philippines, 22‐28. Munsell Color Company 2000. Munsell Soil Color Charts. New York: New Windsor. Orton, C., P. Tyers and A. Vince. 1993. Pottery in archaeology. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Paz, V. and W. Ronquillo. 2004. Report on the Palawan Island Palaeohistoric Research Season for 2004. Unpublished report. Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines. Rice, P. M. 1987. Pottery analysis: A source book. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Shepard, A. O. 1956. Ceramics for the archaeologist. Washington: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Simanjuntak, T. (ed.) 2008. Austronesian in Sulawesi. Depok: Center for Prehistoric and Austronesian Studies. Solheim, W. G. II. 2002 [1964]. The archaeology of Central Philippines: a study chiefly of the Iron Age and its relationships. Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press. Solheim, W. G. II. 2003. “Southeast Asian earthenware pottery and its spread,” in Earthenware in Southeast Asia: Proceedings of the Singapore Symposium on Premodern Southeast Asian Earthenwares. Edited by J. N. Miksic, pp. 1‐21. Singapore: Singapore University Press. Solheim, W. G. II. 2008. The Pre‐Sa Huynh‐Kalanay Pottery of Taiwan and Southeast Asia. Hukay, 13: 39‐66. 20 Balbaligo Solheim, W. G. II. Forthcoming. Report on Gua Sirih. Szabó, K., E. Dizon, L. Lacsina, L. Batoon, A. Peñalosa, P. Piper, J. Ochoa and T. Vitales. 2006. Report on the excavation of Linaminan, Barangay Isumbo, Sofronio Española, Palawan. Unpublished report. A joint project of the National Museum of the Philippines and the Australian National University.

Lost in the Retelling: Washed‐out Balitok (Gold) in Ibaloi Generational Memory Ibaloi Diaspora into Benguet (Part 2)1

Michael Armand P. Canilao2

Abstract Most Southeast Asian ethnic group histories are oral in form rather than written. The ethnolinguistic groups in the mountainous Cordillera region of Luzon, Philippines are likewise rich in epics, folklores and various other oral traditions. The Ifugao ethnolinguistic group; for instance, have the Hud Hud ni Dinulawan at Gonhadan which is an elaborate epic riddled with clues about the remote Ifugao past. The Ibaloi ethnolinguistic group meanwhile of Benguet province has also woven a vivid collection of oral traditions which adequately includes their first migrations into the southern slopes of Cordillera. Although oral traditions are invaluable for the historical archaeologist, a level of caution must be exercised in dealing with oral tradition data, especially regarding its accuracy. Oral traditions are versions of events in the past that may have continually transformed as it was transmitted through several generations of an ethnolinguistic group. This paper will illustrate how oral traditions of the locations of the first settlements of the Ibaloi have downplayed the role of gold mining as an impetus, and instead have focused on wet agriculture potential as a criterion. This can be attributed to the fact that such oral traditions may function to (wittingly or unwittingly) validate present‐day elite class interests and claims to

1 See Part 1 entitled Fording Upstream in Search for Balitok‐Ibaloi Diaspora into Benguet in Hukay Volume 14: 91‐110. 2 Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Ateneo de Manila University, Quezon City, Philippines; Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines Diliman, Quezon City, Philippines Email: [email protected]

Hukay Volume 15, pp. 21‐29 22 Canilao status, lands, offices and other locations of prestige and power. The first Ibaloi settlements in Benguet were in‐fact gold mining camps located near the mountain peaks and the roughest of them. A visit to some of the oral tradition‐identified early settlement localities today will show that they are not mining locations but rather leveled “fertile valley lands” ideal for wet rice agriculture. The role of Benguet gold in the early peopling of Benguet (during the 13th to 14th century) together with its socio‐economic and cultural practices took a back seat in the current retelling of the oral tradition.

Ibaloi Baknang (Elite) Oral Tradition of Migration The historians Anavic Bagamaspad and Bridget Hamada‐Pawid published a book on the history of Benguet and the Ibaloi people entitled A People’s History of Benguet (1985). The book was the final synthesis of a five‐ year local government funded project dubbed the “Benguet History Project.” The book is a compilation of the ethnohistories based on family histories of the Ibaloi in the different municipalities of Benguet. The data of the Benguet history project was primarily developed through the collection of Ibaloi oral traditions especially because no written sources on the Ibaloi prior to 1845 were available. Data gathering was facilitated by research assistants who conducted interviews of Ibaloi Lead (baknang or elite) families in the different municipalities of Benguet. The Lead families are those with the following qualifications: 1) originality to the place, 2) most widely related and populous in the community, 3) bearers of traditional properties, performers of time‐honoured rites and rituals, and 4) acknowledged socio‐ cultural‐economic‐political leaders of the town. They derived data on the early movements and settlements into Benguet province. The oral tradition accounts recorded by Bagamaspad and Hamada‐ Pawid maybe skewed in favour of the Ibaloi elite since all informants interviewed were Ibaloi baknang families. The authors may have unwittingly created an “elitist history” in attempting to write a history book for the Ibaloi ethnolinguistic group collectively. It follows then that these recorded oral traditions, as recounted by the Ibaloi elite, may not be free from issues pertaining to baknang interests, claims to status, lands, offices and other locations of prestige and power. According to the interviewed informants, early settlements were located in “fertile valleys, watered tablelands, and areas close to mining Washed‐out Balitok in Ibaloi Generational Memory 23

Figure 1. Map of Ibaloi early settlements (after Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid 1985)

sites” (Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid 1985). This statement leaves one perplexed as to why the Ibaloi would choose locations favourable for wet agriculture when in fact the early (13th to 14th century) settlements were in gold mining areas (rough peaks)? A review of written primary and secondary ethnohistorical sources about the Ibaloi from the Spanish and American Contact periods and even comparative upland migrations elsewhere in Southeast Asia has shown that balitok or gold catalysed the first migrations into Benguet. Wet agriculture only entered the Ibaloi socio ‐economic world in the 19th to 20th century. Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid found out that the Ibaloi generally believed that their ancestors originated from the Lingayen and Ilocos coastlines. Stories of the earliest movements into Benguet were most vividly recalled by Benguet history informants coming from the municipalities of Tublay, Tuba, and Kabayan. They described the 24 Canilao movement as a west to east movement. These early migrants moved upriver towards the Benguet area following three migration routes (see Figure 1). The first route is through the tributaries of Aringay, and Galiano rivers ending up in Chuyo and Tonglo in Tuba municipality. The second route is through the tributaries of the Amburayan River to Darew and Palaypay in Kapangan municipality. Finally the third is through the Agno River to Imbose in the municipality of Kabayan and Amlimay in the municipality of Buguias (Bagamaspad and Pawid 1985:26‐27, 42‐49). Here we see that the migration movements may have been generalised as being hydraulic (following the river). As we will see later, the accounts gathered by Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos (1998) from their non‐elite Ibaloi informants have identified foot trails that may have been created by the first Ibaloi who migrated into Benguet. Chuyo settlement is present‐day Green Valley Country Club in Baguio‐Tuba area. The location of Tonglo settlement is a mystery up to now, baffling Cordillera scholars. The search for the vestiges of this “gold bulking station” is my current research interest. Darew is present‐day Gasweling in Kapangan municipality. Palaypay is present‐day Pongayan also in Kapangan municipality. Imbose is in the municipality of Kabayan while Amlimay is in the adjacent municipality of Buguias. The settlements of Darew, Chuyo and Imbose were purportedly settlements of the Ibaloi elite. Palaypay, Tonglo, and Amlimay; on the other hand, were mainly trade centres and were allegedly home to less affluent kin. Palaypay is known to be a centre for extensive trade. The settlement of Imbose is believed to have been occupied in the 16th century. Imbose is the earliest remembered community in Kabayan. The Ibaloi lead families generally look to this area as their first settlement. Chuyo is the main settlement of the Tuba lead families of Milo‐Kanadya. A visit to Palaypay in Kapangan and Imbose in Kabayan has shown that these areas are primarily for wet agriculture—being located in “fertile valleys and watered tablelands” (Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid 1985). One becomes puzzled on why the accounts have identified locations that are for wet agriculture when in fact the early (13th to 14th century) settlements were in gold mining areas? Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid (1985) say that the motivations for such initial movements were the exploitation of relatively gentle slopes with abundant water and game, and safety from intruders and in some cases epidemics. The authors then made a claim that such a reckoning of Washed‐out Balitok in Ibaloi Generational Memory 25 early settlement was recounted among all the oral tradition sources across the thirteen Benguet municipalities. We have to be reminded at this point that the early migration accounts, according to the authors were “most vividly recalled by Benguet history informants coming from the municipalities of Tublay, Tuba, and Kabayan” (Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid 1985). What may be seen here then is the creation of a generalised (ethnolinguistic) group history for all thirteen municipalities based on accounts from only three municipalities.

Oral Traditions by Less Affluent Ibaloi June Prill‐Brett and Tala Salinas‐Ramos (1998) conducted work on Tuba municipality ethnohistory utilising non‐elite oral accounts of family histories in their work. A total of four migration periods have been ascertained from the interviews. The initial migration was a pre‐1500 peopling from the west and southwest plains of Pangasinan following the rivers Aringay‐Galiano, Naguilian, Bued, Angalacan, and Agno (see Figure 2). This may bear semblance to the earlier one presented by Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid; Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos’ work however, further elaborates on the southwestern early peopling movement as follows: Some recollections of early migrations are associated with river systems. From the coastal plains of northwestern Luzon, movements were into fertile river valleys or close to gold mining sites of the southern cordillera (Benguet) through three main drainage systems: The southwest Aringay and Galiano rivers into the Mangitkiran range to Chuyo and Tonglo, and surrounding settlements in Tuba and Sablan. The Agno River from Lingayen, Pangasinan, ascending initially into Baloy in Itogon, and further inland into Imbose in Kabayan, and to Amlimay in Buguias. (Prill‐ Brett and Salinas‐Ramos 1998:17) They also say that early mountain trails used as migration routes from the southwest into Benguet were the very same routes which the Spanish punitive expeditions into Benguet followed hundreds of years later. Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos also identified two pre‐Hispanic trails that connected the south to the coastal plains of La Union: Both pass through the municipality of Tuba, one originating from Tubao passing through Pitogan‐Bukiagan‐Lamtang, then Banget (La Trinidad). The other starts from Naguilian and goes through Galiano‐Ampusa‐Lamtang then to Banget. A third entry point is through the municipality of Sablan—originating from coastal Aringay, passing through Galiano‐Ampusa‐Betwang‐Yagyagan‐ Pinalyog then into Pugis... (part of La Trinidad) (Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos 1998:17) 26 Canilao

Figure 2. Map of Ibaloi early settlements. (after Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos 1998)

Although Prill‐Brett and Salinas‐Ramos utilised non‐elite informants in their research, most of their data followed cadence with Bagamaspad and Hamada‐Pawid’s (1985) earlier work. This is interesting because here we see the adoption of an Ibaloi ethnolinguisitic “group history” which is again based on the published Ibaloi Baknang (elite) accounts.

The Limits of Oral Traditions of Migration/Origins The oral traditions of an ethnolinguistic group are important as a point of entry into any historical research of the group. Oral traditions tell the modern scholar which questions to pursue; therefore, it must be explored at the onset of the research. Oral traditions are irreplaceable; not Washed‐out Balitok in Ibaloi Generational Memory 27 only because the information would be lost otherwise, but also because they are inside information uttered by sources in the group. They are an intimate “history of the natives”—interpreted and spoken by the natives themselves. However, oral traditions are historiologies of the past or accounts of how people have interpreted the past. It is a continuing reflection meant to establish what in the past, believed to be real, was relevant to the present. The Ibaloi regularly hold an Ul‐nong, which is a meeting where they discuss their oral histories: We discuss what we remember and we correct ourselves immediately when we have wrong data. More importantly, our stories help us discover new information which our respective families now keep for our new generations. (Pungayan quoted in Cabreza 2010:A9) One is left to wonder, who gets to determine what information will be deleted, revised, or retained in the collective Ibaloi oral history during the Ul‐nong? Such meetings may not be free from the phenomenon known as “group‐think” which has been studied fully by sociologists specialising in group dynamics (Janis 1972). Jan Vansina (1985) has shown that oral traditions must be treated as expressions of generalisations rather than statements of actual observations of events or situations. The researcher should mesh out the logical constructs and cosmological representations from oral tradition accounts because they may have been condensed beyond easy recognition. This is especially true for genesis and origin accounts. Origin accounts/migration stories should be treated as cosmologies because they are infused with a people’s ontology (how do they view reality?), cultural values and modes of life. The use of logic (deductive or inferential reasoning) is very much evident in these stories including that of peopling. Oral traditions include information on early environments, settlements, migrations, marriages, and meanings of words and phenomena which are safeguarded beyond the generation it happened so that is can be recalled whenever a person, marriage, or village is in question. Such a need usually arises when matters concerning the descendants, later marriages, or heirlooms are discussed. It lays foundation to contemporary rights over land, resources, women, offices, herds, and others. The Ibaloi early settlement accounts would favour a perspective from the landed Ibaloi (agricultural field owners). Oral traditions should be 28 Canilao understood in the practical context of the Ibaloi Baknang defending their stake or claim of ancestral lands. The need for this is highlighted even more upon passing into law of the Indigenous Peoples Rights Act of 1997, which awards Certificates of Ancestral Domain Claims (CADCs) and Certificate of Ancestral Land Claims (CALCs) to indigenous peoples who may be able to use oral tradition in justifying occupation of lands since “time immemorial” (Republic of the Philippines and Congress of the Philippines 1997). Interestingly, Augusto Gatmaytan (2007:) warns us of a danger set into motion by the IPRA: “we need to look into how specific actors in specific settings exercise their agency in pursuit of their respective rights or interests.”

The Baknang oral traditions of the initial (13th or 14th century) settlement sites “project” the recent 19th to 20th century agricultural milieu into the past in order to lay foundation for present‐day ancestral land‐ claims. This resulted to the downplay of the role of gold mining as an impetus to the Ibaloi initial migrations. Historical archaeology will now play an all important role in re‐ instating gold extraction as the main engine that drove the earliest Ibaloi migrations into Benguet. The Benguet Archaeological Surveys of 2008 will be discussed in the final part entitled “Refining Balitok: The Ibaloi Early Settlements Systematic Archaeological Surveys. Ibaloi Diaspora into Benguet (Part 3)” to be published in Hukay 16.

References Bagamaspad, A. and Z. Hamada‐Pawid. 1985. A Peopleʹs History of Benguet. Baguio City: Baguio Printing and Publishing Corporation. Canilao, M. A. P. 2009. Fording Upstream in Search for Balitok—Ibaloi Diaspora Into Benguet (Part 1). Hukay 14: 91‐110. Cabreza, V. 2010, January 13. Ibaloi People Ponder Future Together. Philippine Daily Inquirer, pp. A9. Gatmaytan, A. B. 2007. Negotiating Autonomy: Case Studies on Philippine Indigenous Peoplesʹ Land Rights. Quezon City: International Work Group on Indigenous Affairs. Janis, I. 1972. Victims of Groupthink. Boston: Houghton Mifflin. Republic of the Philippines, Congress of the Philippines. 1997. Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act. Third Regular Session, RA 8371. Prill‐Brett, J. and T. Salinas‐Ramos. 1998. Tuba Ethnohistory. Baguio City: Washed‐out Balitok in Ibaloi Generational Memory 29 Cordillera Studies Center. Vansina, J. 1985. Oral Tradition as History. Madison City: University of Wisconsin Press.

Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces: Establishing Antiquity and Social Organisation Stephen Acabado 1

Abstract This paper provides a summary of the results of an archaeological and landscape survey in Banaue, Ifugao carried out in 2007. This survey is part of a larger study that explores the relationship between irrigation management and social organisation of the Ifugao in the Northern Philippines. This historical ecological study examines the sustainability of Ifugao irrigated‐terrace farming, and documents dynamic and recursive linkages between the Ifugao and their environment. Its focus on the apparent disjunction between water management and sociopolitical stratification, identifies factors that underlie the sustainability of Ifugao agriculture, and structural correlates that generate an intensive agricultural landscape. The sustainability of Ifugao agriculture is related to the social structure that links individuals through attachment to the agricultural field. As such, this investigation establishes the nature of Ifugao social organisation through the “house” concept. Corollary to determining cultural patterns in Ifugao, this project aims to resolve debates on the antiquity of the entire Cordillera terraced field tradition. Archaeological and ethnohistoric work will confirm whether the conventional ‘long history’ or the revisionist ‘short history’ more accurately represents the occupational history of this region.

1 Assistant Professor of Anthropology/Archaeology, College of Liberal Arts and Social Sciences, University of Guam, Mangilao, GU 96923 Email: [email protected]

Hukay Volume 15, pp. 31‐61 32 Acabado Introduction Landscapes are manifestations of humanity’s interactions with the environment. As such, a landscape approach provides significant contributions in understanding history and culture. This paper exemplifies the increasing importance of the meaning and use of the landscape in comprehending cultural and historical patterns. I combine spatial analysis, ethnohistoric, and ethnographic approaches to reconstruct Cordillera culture‐history and develop a model to establish the antiquity of Ifugao agricultural terraces. Establishing the cultural chronology of the Philippine Cordillera sets up resolution on the antiquity of Ifugao agricultural terraces and provides answer to question on population movements before the arrival of the Spanish in northern Philippines. It will also anchor discussions on the relationships between the landscape, agricultural systems, and social organisation.

The terraced1 fields of the Philippines’ Central Cordillera illustrate a remarkable modification of marginal landscape to suit rice production. This environmental alteration coupled with intensification of agricultural production has long been viewed by anthropologists as complementary. More recently however, anthropology has offered a more nuanced view in which intensification is a process (where water management and construction of monumental architecture are components) (Glick 1996; Glick and Kirchner 2000; Lansing 1991; Lansing and Kremer 1993; Mabry 1996; Scarborough et al. 2000; Schoenfelder 2000). Ethnographic (i.e. Geertz 1980; Hunt and Hunt 1974, 1976; Hunt 1988; Netting 1974) and archaeological (Doolittle 1990; Downing and Gibson 1974; Glick 1970; Pérez Rodríguez 2006) applications of this model have revealed some of its limitations and shortcomings. These studies have confirmed that many communities have traditional means of dispute resolution and cooperation that permit large‐scale irrigation outside of a centralised polity. The Ifugao rice‐terraced fields represent portions of an agricultural system that consists of intensive and extensive components that require complex technological knowledge and intricate social organisation. Their distribution occurs over a wide range of edaphic and climatic regimes and support population densities of as many as 250 individuals per square kilometre of cultivable land (in the 1970s) (Conklin 1980).

1 I use the terms agricultural and rice terraces (interchangeably) to refer to these irrigated paddy fields. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 33 In this paper, the results of a four‐month archaeological research program in Banaue, Ifugao are combined with ethnographic data and Geographic Information Systems (GIS) database on agricultural fields in an attempt to understand human‐environment interaction, managerial requirements of maintaining the Ifugao rice terraces, and provide radiometric age determinations for a Banaue terrace system. The developmental trajectory of agricultural terraces in the Philippine Cordilleras is still poorly understood. The presence of early settlements within the town centre of Banaue, Ifugao (as told by oral‐ historical accounts) provides an opportunity to investigate the antiquity of terrace farming in the area. Consequently, early settlements/villages also offer a chance to intensively investigate the dynamics of agricultural development and social organisation of the Ifugao.

The Ifugao Central Cordilleran agricultural systems appear to have some common features (Bodner 1986; Conklin 1980). Aside from terraced pond fields that are irrigated either by springs or streams (or both) through a series of canals, we also see the presence of swidden fields that produce taro, sweet potatoes, legumes, and other vegetables. This feature is interesting because intensive rice farming and extensive swiddening are both present in this agricultural system—a characteristic termed composite agricultural system by Rambo (1996). Despite this general similarity, differences throughout the region (Central Cordillera) have been recognised and can be identified today. Ecological variations present recognisable patterning. A seasonal distribution of an average 3,000 mm annual rainfall (as opposed to ca. 1800 mm annual rainfall in other regions), the rugged topography, and irrigated ponded terraces and interspersed patches of woodlots that occupy the gentler slopes, often occurring with settlements in the lower portions of valleys (Conklin 1980) distinguish Ifugao from other areas in the region. Appreciating and understanding the unique dynamics of Ifugao agricultural system require an awareness of environmental and cultural attributes of the Ifugao. An historical ecological approach fits this need. The methodological theory of historical ecology is increasingly being considered as a compelling approach in understanding human‐ environment interaction (Balée 2006). The realisation that there is a need to look at multiple lines of evidence, including the history of landscapes, has 34 Acabado contributed to the growing influence of the approach. The term “landscape” in this study refers to what Crumley and Marquardt (1990:73) consider as “the spatial manifestation of the relations between humans and their environment”. The landscape is the imposition of culture onto the physical environment or nature and associated with this is the decision‐making opportunities to allocate differential energy expenditures on the environment. The distribution of the rice terraces, and the intricacies of water sharing in Banaue, Ifugao give rise to another debate: the antiquity of terracing and rice cultivation in Ifugao. Although Maher’s (1973, 1978, 1985) series of archaeological investigations provided radiometric dates, the context of his charcoal samples were not clearly explained. A major component of this study is to offer a terrace growth model through landscape analysis. I am making the assumption that areas first settled and subsequently cultivated are those that are optimal for agricultural production (i.e. stable source of water, gentle slope). This growth model based on general characteristics of the landscape will then be anchored with C14 age determinations. Postulations on the age of the Ifugao rice terraces have been based on two main models. One maintains that the Ifugao started building terraces as early as two to three thousand years ago. The other claims that terrace construction in the area is a recent development, influenced by migration to Central Cordillera of lowland groups pushed by the pressure of Spanish expansion into Northern Luzon at ca. AD 1572 (Keesing 1962). Appropriately, the interpretation of greater age is the older of the two. Barton and Beyer, through estimates of how long it would have taken to construct the elaborate systems which fill valley after valley of Ifugao, proposed dates between 2000–3000 years ago. For more than half a decade, no competing model was proposed for the age of the Cordillera rice terraces: Barton’s (1919) and Beyer’s (1955) estimates were either accepted or rejected without any alternative position. However, by the 1960s evidence has come in that mounted a strong challenge to the older hypothesis and supports the view of a relatively recent move into Ifugao territory, probably associated in some way with Spanish pressure. Even with these interests, Conklin (1967) points out that despite the richness of reporting on many aspects of Ifugao culture, such fundamental activities as terrace construction have been given scant attention. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 35 Ifugao Culture History The origins and age of the Ifugao rice terraces (Figure 1) in the Philippine Cordillera continue to provoke academic and popular debates. While one reason can be attributed to the existence of two alternative models of the antiquity of these agricultural marvels – that have significant repercussions for Southeast Asian and Philippine prehistory, another lies in the symbolic importance of the rice terraces in humanity’s connection to the landscape. In fact, these monumental structures have become emblematic of the world’s cultural landscape heritage (UNESCO 1995). Ethnographic studies of Ifugao go back to early Spanish contacts (Alarcón 1965 [1857]; Antolín 1970 [1789]). During the first half of the 20th century, intensive investigation of the Ifugao was carried out by noted figures in Philippine anthropology (Barton 1919; Beyer 1955; Lambrecht 1929) and peaked with Conklin’s (1967; 1980) description of the landscape and agricultural system. These studies provided information and

Figure 1. Ifugao province with the location of the Municipalities of Banaue and Kiangan, Ifugao (inset: Hanga and Talugtug terraces in Viewpoint, Banaue, Ifu‐ gao.) (Figure appeared in Acabado 2009:801). 36 Acabado snapshots of Ifugao life as well as the basis for this research. Moreover, these early researchers also resulted in debates on the dating of arrival of the Ifugao in Central Cordillera and the subsequent construction of rice terraces. The debates on the age of Ifugao rice terraces are still intense, even though archaeological and ethnographic studies that try to provide resolution are only a handful (Table 1). These debates are essentially based on two extreme clusters—pre‐Hispanic model (as early as 2000–3000 years BP) and post‐contact trend (as late as 300 BP). Ironically, a majority of the population (and scholars) adheres to the former model although it is not based on empirical observations (even with Scott’s [1974:199] contention that descriptions of Ifugao irrigated rice terraces were non‐existent in Spanish documents until AD 1801—the Spanish were already in the Ifugao region as early as AD 1750). These debates remain intense because of the implications that are attached to the antiquity of the terraces. Filipino scholars, specifically archaeologists, tend to adhere to the “earlier” model not because of the evidence provided by Beyer and Barton, but because of nationalistic sentiments. Similarly, most Ifugaos I interacted with prefer the same “earlier” dating. Considering the imposition of national policies after the

Table 1. Dates proposed for the inception of the Ifugao rice terraces. (Table appeared in Acabado 2009:803) Author Date Major Points

Barton (1919) and 2000–3000 BP Estimated how long it would have taken Beyer (1955) to construct the elaborate terrace systems which fill valley after valley of Ifugao country

Keesing (1962) and <300 BP Movements to upper elevation of Cordil‐ Dozier (1966) lera peoples were associated with the Spanish pressure Lambrecht (1967) <300 BP Used lexical and linguistic evidence by analysing Ifugao romantic tales (hudhud); Observed short duration of terrace build‐ ing and concluded a recent origin of the terraces.

Maher (1973: 52‐55) 205 ± 100 BP Radiocarbon dates from two house plat‐ 735 ± 105 BP forms Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 37 World War II, especially as these relate to land tenure and access to ancestral domain, a much older date provides validation for their (Ifugao) claim to the land.

Methods My study of Ifugao agriculture and social organisation included four stages of research: GIS‐based analyses of the Ifugao landscape; a field survey that involved GPS mapping, archaeological excavations; ethnographic interviews; and laboratory and data analysis. The first stage requires digitisation of topographic and land use maps as well as satellite and aerial photographs to develop a digital elevation model of the Ifugao region. Estimates of labour and agricultural productivity were also developed for one terrace system using the GIS database and information that I culled from the ethnographic interviews. Simple regression analyses were used to examine environmental data in the GIS database. I expect that certain environmental conditions underlie the suitability of areas that were/are optimal for wet rice agriculture and terracing in the highlands of Northern Luzon. Research in Bali (Lansing 1991; Scarborough et al. 2000), for example, demonstrates how water was shared between upstream and downstream populations elsewhere in Southeast Asia. I applied a similar perspective to investigate the social organisation of irrigation among the Ifugao. In this vein, I expect that earliest construction of rice terraces among the Ifugao began near sources of water (rivers, springs) and on areas that had relatively gentle slopes. Stage two (field survey) of my study focused on GPS mapping and subsurface excavations, to acquire samples for radiocarbon dating guided by a Bayesian Model. Sites for mapping were selected after I had constructed the GIS database. In consultation with Ifugao informants, I selected well‐preserved sites for excavations (Figure 2). Between June and September 2007, with the help of graduate students from the University of the Philippines‐Archaeological Studies Program (UP‐ASP) and local Ifugao farmers, terrace wall excavations were undertaken. These coincided with the “off season” (i.e. late July to late November) of the Ifugao agricultural calendar (Conklin 1980). This phase marks the time when farmers often repair damaged walls. This period ensured that my fieldwork will not disrupt major agricultural activities, such as the preparation of fields and planting of rice. 38 Acabado

Figure 2. Location of Bocos excavation units in relation to the rest of Banaue terrace systems.

GIS This section briefly describes the process of digitising eight land use maps of North Central Ifugao that were originally prepared by Conklin (1972). The eight maps that were digitised were composed of the Gohang, Bannawol, Pula, Ogwag, and Kinnakin, Amgode, Hengyon, and Linge plates (Conklin 1972). The eight plates that were digitised were composed of several agricultural districts. However, only the complete agricultural districts, or to some extent comprehensive enough, were chosen for analysis. These were the agricultural districts of: Amganad, Bannawol, Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 39

Figure 3. The 13 agricultural districts that were selected for landscape analyses.

Bayninan, Kinnakin, Lugu, Nabyun, Ogwag, Pugo, Pu’itan, Tam’an, Kababuyan, Nunggawa, and, Hengyon (Figure 3). I began this project during my MA work in 2003 and continued to digitise the maps for my PhD research. Some of the features were later digitised with the help of Gilbert Gonzales. The whole process took almost 40 Acabado five years to complete. The completion of the GIS database was an important stage in my PhD work: the fieldwork component (excavations and interviews) was set up by the landscape information provided by the GIS database. In this manner, this investigation is a continuation of the work I began during my MA program. The land use maps of North Central Ifugao that were prepared by Conklin in the late 1960’s to early 1970’s were scanned and digitised using “heads up” digitising in the software ArcGIS. Four thematic features that were directly significant to this paper were selected for individual digitising. These were: 1) the terraced rice fields and swidden fields (Figure 4); and, 2) settlements/villages and the drainage system (Figure 5). To develop digital elevation model (DEM), topographic contours with 20‐

Figure 4. Terraced rice fields and swid‐ den fields in North Central Cordillera. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 41 metre intervals were also included in the digitising (based on Conklin’s 20m contour relief). The “heads up” (or manual) digitising was carried out using ArcGIS. ArcGIS was also used to generate data on elevation, land area, distances, the aspect, and the slope. The last two items were generated from the DEM. The spatial relations/object generated from the digitised maps were placed into an MS Excel spreadsheet. Multiple regression analysis and correlation coefficients were run to determine relationships between the features of interest and the statistical significance of the relationships. The level of confidence used for this study was set at 95%. Spatial autocorrelation however, was not carried out in this exercise because I believe that many factors influenced the cultural features in the landscape of the Ifugao.

Ethnographic Interviews The primary purpose of ethnographic interviews in this study is geared towards understanding Ifugao agricultural practices that ultimately informs self‐organisation as well as developing Bayesian model for dating construction and use of Ifugao agricultural terraces. Utilising previous ethnographies and similar studies (i.e. Lansing 1991; Scarborough et al. 2000), I conducted informal, unstructured interviews with key informants. Five community elders were chosen primarily because of their ages and apparent experience in the agricultural practices and general culture of the Ifugao. My research assistant, Maureen Salvador, interviewed three of the informants while I interviewed the other two. Four of the interviews were conducted within three days and served as my introduction to the community. The fifth became my guide while mapping the terraces. As such, I was able to carry out in‐depth interviews for two weeks. These interviews focused on questions about cooperative work (and the concept of reciprocity), rituals associated with agricultural events, and activities that relate to construction and maintenance/repair of terrace walls. Information provided by these interviews resulted in the development of methodology for establishing the antiquity of the terraces and determining the social organisation of the Ifugao.

Excavations Subsurface archaeological excavations in this investigation were carried out to obtain charcoal samples within and beneath the terrace walls 42 Acabado

Figure 5. Distribution of hamlets (right) and drainage system (left) in North Central Cordillera Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 43 (Figure 6) in the Bocos terrace system. Although the primary objective is to acquire datable charcoal in solid context, we also collected earthenware sherds (presented in succeeding sections) during the course of the excavations. The selection of the Bocos terrace system as sampling site for archaeological excavations was based on GIS‐modeling and oral history. Excavations and gathering of charcoal samples were guided by a Bayesian model (Buck et al. 1996) developed to address the intermixture of materials in agricultural layers. Following Dye’s (2009) call for a standard methodology for calibrating 14C results and incorporation of stratigraphic information in the calibration, this investigation utilised use of Bayesian modelling to date agricultural terraces, which by nature have layers with a chaotic mixture of materials. Anywhere in the world, dating agricultural terraces presents methodological difficulties because of their construction technology and use. However, as this study illustrates, a Bayesian

Figure 6. Location of excavation units in Ifugao agricultural terraces. (Figure appeared in Acabado 2009:806) 44 Acabado approach addresses the problem by incorporating stratigraphy, ethnographic information and 14C dates in the calibration process. Consequently, charcoal samples were obtained from two main strata— from the layer just beneath the current agricultural soil and underneath the terrace wall foundation. These samples provided the required information to calibrate radiocarbon determinations and date the archaeological event of terrace wall construction.

Bocos Excavation Sites2 Using the information gleaned from the digitised land use maps and ethnographic data on rice terracing practices in Ifugao, I identified four excavation units within the Bocos terrace system (Municipality of Banaue) to obtain charcoal samples for radiocarbon determinations. These excavation units were selected based on their proximity to the river, with the assumption that units nearest to the river would provide the earliest dates (Keesing 1962; Maher 1973). Moreover, the Bocos system is located on the southernmost section of the Banaue terrace systems. Working on the assumption that populations were moving up the valley through Alimit River, then, Bocos terraces should be the oldest in the Banaue area. More importantly, the environmental features of Bocos suggest less energy requirement for terrace‐building and more optimal for wet‐rice production; less slope gradient, better water source, and adjacent to a large village. I excavated two units located near Alimit River, one excavation unit in the middle of the terrace system and one excavation unit on mountain top terraces. Following Conklin’s (1980) cross‐sectional illustration of an Ifugao pond field and information culled from local Ifugao farmers, I chose to excavate the wall section of the terraces. I believe that the wall foundation is the best location for dating the construction of a particular terrace. Ifugao farmers stated that even though some terrace walls occasionally collapse, wall foundations (kopnad) generally remain in their original place. Two charcoal samples acquired from each excavation unit were used for 14C dating. These were collected from the layer beneath the wall foundation and from the layer within which the wall foundation is located. All of the excavation units yielded similar stratigraphic profiles: Layer I, cultivated soil (luyo); Layer II, hard earth fill and wall foundation (haguntal and gopnad, respectively); and Layer III, original valley floor (doplah)

2 This section appeared in Acabado 2009:807. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 45 (Figure 7). Three of the four excavation units provided data that corresponded with the Bayesian model for dating rice terrace construction used in this study (discussed below). The unit located in the middle of the system (achao) produced a single charcoal sample from Layer II, thus, the information provided by unit Achao was used to support the use‐date of the terrace. All of the charcoal samples were remains of Pinus kesiya Royle ex Gordon, commonly known as Cordillera pine, which has a lifespan of 100 –150 years (Kha 1965).

Results and Analyses This section briefly describes results of my investigations, focusing on three major themes: distribution of agricultural fields, antiquity, and establishing the house concept. Some of the information presented here has

Figure 7. Typical profile of Bocos excavation units (Figure appeared in Acabado 2009:809). 46 Acabado been discussed elsewhere (Acabado 2009; 2010; in press).

Distribution of Agricultural Features The topographic locations of terraced rice fields and swidden fields in North Central Cordillera (Figure 8) suggest that the two subsistence patterns are interrelated. Although wet‐terraced fields are clustered along relatively gentler slopes and swidden fields are scattered on higher elevations and steeper gradients, production requirements, consumption needs, and social factors (i.e. status and prestige) provide evidence of the

Figure 8. Distribution of terraced rice fields and swidden fields in North Central Cordillera. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 47 complementarity of the two subsistence patterns. Thus, landscape as well as ethnographic information obtained for this study underscores the interrelatedness of the two production strategies in a single integrated system. Ethnographic information corroborates results of the GIS analysis carried out in this study. Moreover, these datasets suggest that swiddening and wet‐rice cultivation in Ifugao are characterised by: (1) diversified system that usually uses both paddy and swidden; (2) they started with paddy and then added swidden; (3) some people who do not have enough paddy use swidden. These features of Ifugao agroecology imply risk minimisation that combines two subsistence patterns. The interrelatedness of the strategies employed by the Ifugao (and other upland populations in Southeast Asia) challenges the unilineal model of agricultural intensification from swidden to wetfield agriculture.

Establishing the Age of the Ifugao Terraces3 In illustrating the power of Bayesian framework, I attempted to solve the difficulty of dating agricultural terraces, where information on the age of events was obtained from 14C dating, stratigraphy, Ifugao tradition, and events recorded historically. Radiocarbon dates have been seen as the only definitive proof of Ifugao terrace antiquity, but the nature of terracing technology rules out ad hoc procedure in choosing 14C samples from different layers. The most secure sample (layer under the terrace wall) is related to wall construction, but does not directly date the construction event. Bayesian approach then, provides us with the tool to determine the age of the event in interest. It appears that there was an explosion of terrace building in the valley of Banaue after AD 1585 (Table 2). The Bayesian modeling employed in this investigation shows that the Bocos terrace system saw rapid terrace expansion between ca. AD 1486 to AD 1788–302 years from the valley floor to the mountain top. The results of calibration and modeling of this study counter‐indicate Beyer’s and Barton’s hypotheses (2,000 to 3,000 BP) while supporting Keesing’s and Lambrecht’s (post‐Spanish) arguments. Furthermore, there is also an indication of temporal change, as illustrated by the dates generated for terrace wall construction. Whether this expansion reflects the elite (kadangyan) demand for

3 Some parts of this section appeared in Acabado 2009:811‐813. 48 Acabado

Table 2. Probability analyses of pre‐Spanish or post‐Spanish construction of Bocos rice terrace walls (Table appeared in Acabado 2009:811).

Elevation (metres Post‐Spanish (Post‐ Excavation Unit above sea level) AD1585) Probability Mamag 1040 74.6% Rasa 1060 98.5% Linagbu 1340 99.9%

surplus (rice‐land holdings is one of the major determinants of Ifugao social ranking) or based on commoners’ (nawatwat) exploitation of marginal environments to move up the social ladder, remains unclear. Despite the likely increase in population due to lowland groups escaping the Spanish, contact‐period descriptions of Ifugao settlements point to low population densities; the startling high population density found in the twentieth century could be a later development, resulting in extension of terraces to steeper slopes and in higher step formations (Keesing 1962). However, these movements could be the impetus for more terrace construction.

Social Organisation In defining the social organisation of the Ifugao, I use the concept of “house”, originally proposed by Levi‐Strauss (1982), to explain the web of relationships that make up the Ifugao social system (i.e. Figure 9). The limitation of traditional kinship explanatory models in understanding the perpetuation of an “estate” provides a take‐off point in utilising the house concept to characterise Ifugao social organisation. Kinship analysis is insufficient to explain the variation and flexibility exhibited by Ifugao society. Belonging to a “house” (or himpuntunagan) seems more appropriate in looking at the links of an individual to a wider social web. Thus, relations in an himpuntunagan are the organising unit in Ifugao. Furthermore, this analytical concept (“house”) directly relates to self‐ organising principles acting on Ifugao agricultural practices and extends to their social organisation. It seems that landscape and social forces create a need for cooperation. Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 49

Figure 9. Extent of Bayninan residents’ consanguineal links with other agricultur‐ al districts in 1966. They make up the consanguineal network upon which every family depends for potential and actual support in economic, political, social, and ritual affairs (adapted from Conklin 1980:33).

The social organisational aspect of water management and agricultural system among the Ifugao appears to be guided by self‐ organisation. As opposed to explanations associated with Witfoggel’s model, there is clearly no indication that managing Ifugao an agricultural resource was moving towards centralisation. Even in contemporary Ifugao social setting, there seems to be resentment to the national and local governments’ effort to control the use of water and land. Relationships based on the house concept possibly operated on Ifugao communities described by early ethnographic accounts of Barton (1919). We can also 50 Acabado assume that these relationships were present during the mid‐17th century when production intensification and terrace expansion occurred. Environmental limitations to agricultural production seem to have favoured self‐organisation and the elaboration of ranking. If the onset of migration to the inner Cordillera was spurred by the arrival of the Spanish, as the radiocarbon dates support, it is possible that himpuntunagan relationships intensified during this process. The formal establishment of Spanish presence in the region in the mid‐19th century did not result in centralisation, as what occurred in the lowlands. Rather, it probably caused more fragmentation.

Summary This investigation provides us with new sets of information that has significant implications to the history and development of the Ifugao agricultural terraces. Results of this study provide us with the baseline information to develop a model to establish Cordillera regional chronology and the historical relationship between upland and lowland populations. In addition, results of this investigation also offer evidence that challenges dominant archaeological perspectives on subsistence patterns and the link between social organisation and production system. The Bayesian model developed to calibrate radiocarbon determinations obtained by this study serves as the first step to establish the antiquity of the entire Cordillera terrace tradition (Acabado 2009). The model’s apparent success in determining construction sequence in the Bocos terrace system makes it a solid approach to accomplish this objective (confirm the age of other terrace systems across the Philippine Cordillera). Moreover, the dates provided by the determinations and subsequent calibrations suggest that the “long history” model espoused by Beyer and Barton is no longer tenable for the Bannawol terrace systems. Results of the culture historical reconstruction then support population movement directly related to the arrival of the Spanish in the Philippines. As the Bayesian model imply, intensification of production and expansion of terrace systems in the Bannawol district coincided with the advance of the Spanish conquistadors to northern Philippines. Although some of the dates provided by the calibrations appear to be earlier than the physical arrival of the Spanish in the Cagayan Valley region, it can be assumed that the establishment of Spanish garrisons in Manila and Central Luzon (Pampanga) created a “ripple effect” that Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 51 spurred the movement of Cagayan Valley populations to the interior of the Cordillera. The nature of this movement is still unclear, but I believe that sporadic movement occurred before the physical arrival of the Spanish ca. AD 1591 (Keesing 1962) in the Cagayan Valley and a massive migration followed right after the establishment of the garrison in the region. As the above assumption imply, small‐scale populations were already present in the interior of the Cordilleras before the influx of the “refugees”. This suggests that subsistence strategies practiced by the original settlers were no longer sufficient to feed a growing population. By making use of an historical ecological approach, this investigation hypothesises that the infrastructure for irrigated‐rice cultivation existed in the interior region in the form of wet‐taro fields. With increases in population (rice‐eating migrants), these taro fields could have been converted into rice fields. Moreover, existing subsistence strategies (swiddening and gardening) were incorporated in the production system capable of supporting a growing population. The ensuing subsistence strategy (agroecology) combined several forms of production technology to mitigate risks presented by a mountainous environment. This finding (and other examples from upland systems in Southeast Asia) challenges the supposed evolutionary relationship between swiddening and intensive rice cultivation. Landscape and ethnographic information provides us with evidence to this complementary production system. The interrelatedness of subsistence strategies established the need for cooperation among Ifugao farmers and villages. This is exemplified by the nature of Ifugao social organisation based on the “house” concept and the application of self‐organising principles. Since the Ifugao production system is a form of risk‐minimisation, political and economic autonomy provides added assurance to the survival of the minimal economic unit (hamlet) in the region. Thus, the existence of complex irrigation and agricultural systems does not necessarily correlate with political centralisation. Findings of this study attest to the effectiveness of the landscape approach in looking at subsistence patterns and change. The relevance of complementary agricultural systems has given us the opportunity to revisit debates on the evolutionary relationship between “simple” and intensive systems. As the Ifugao terrace archaeology suggests, the inclusion of production systems from Southeast Asia in the equation of subsistence 52 Acabado patterns and social structures that support them, would produce a different view of history.

Landscape Approach and Ifugao Terrace Archaeology The landscape approach employed in this investigation provided a model and a number of hypotheses in understanding Ifugao prehistory and social organisation. Resolving the issue of terrace antiquity offered several more themes that are relevant to the culture history of Cordillera in particular, and northern Luzon in general. Ethnohistoric information suggests a drastic population decline in the eastern fringes of the Cordillera (Keesing 1962; Scott 1974) 50 years after the initial contact with the Spanish. This population decline had been explained through either European diseases—deaths (Newson 2009) or migration to the interior of the Cordillera mountain range (Keesing 1962). There is, however, no empirical evidence yet for population decline through diseases. Information on population density in the region is also scant, although early Spanish accounts identified substantial number of villages in the Cagayan lowlands that had disappeared after initial contact. Keesing proposed that the disappearance of villages might be associated with population movement to avoid Spanish taxation. The Cordillera, thus, became a refugium of sorts. Population movement could have occurred even before the arrival of Spanish forces in the region. A “ripple‐effect” could have taken place that prompted lowland groups to move up to the mountains and join settlements already established there. This hypothesis suggests a massive movement of population. Radiocarbon determinations utilised to determine the construction date of the terraces suggest a similar scenario. There were small‐scale settlements in Ifugao before the 1600’s and that these populations were wet ‐taro and dry‐rice cultivators. At the onset of Spanish push to the north, we see a corresponding expansion (intensification of production) of the agricultural system (terrace‐expansion). Evidence from the study area suggests that it took eight generations, ca. 250 years, to construct irrigated agricultural terraces from the edge of the river to the mountaintops. This migration can be considered an act of active resistance against the Spanish. It suggests that the social organisation of pre‐Hispanic populations in present‐day Cagayan Valley had the mechanism for large‐ scale movements. It also indicates that the lowland and highland Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 53 Philippines (at least in Luzon) would have the same patterns before Spanish colonisation. Consequently, this information implies that the arrival of “refugees” initiated agricultural intensification and subsequently expanded social stratification. The social ranking that emerged in Ifugao can be related to the ritual and social significance of rice. As mentioned in the previous sections, customary Ifugao status is based mainly on rice‐land holdings. This could have limited everyone’s access to lands optimal for rice production. Ranking however did not develop into centralised control of resources—because of the need for cooperation and the importance of commons property. The unpredictability of the Cordillera environment and inadequacy of rice production led to the formation of a tripartite Ifugao agricultural system, which is related to social organisation: while rice signifies social prestige, swidden fields and house gardens supply most of the nourishment of the population. Investigation on Ifugao landscape and social organisation offer deeper understanding of Cordillera culture history and ethnography. As such, this study provides several important contributions to Philippine and Southeast Asian anthropology.

Contributions This research offers a much needed reference point in archaeological studies of northern Philippine highlands. The GIS modeling, as well as radiocarbon dates provide a baseline for further studies in other areas of the Philippine Cordillera. This aspect is significant because almost four decades has passed since the last archaeological excavation was conducted in the province (Maher 1973; 1978; 1985) and an almost complete absence of archaeological chronology in the area remains. Thus, this investigation shed light on the long running debate on the age of the Ifugao agricultural terraces. It also establishes Ifugao social organisation and the interaction between landscape and human behavior. These themes offer a glimpse of how a multifaceted approach (ethnohistory, ethnography, spatial analysis, and archaeology) results in a better understanding of human history. The absence of prior archaeological chronology, discussions on the relationships between agricultural and irrigation systems with social organisation seems a tall task. However, with a three‐pronged research strategy, this investigation addressed issues significant to the archaeology and ethnography of the Ifugao. I believe that 54 Acabado this study will pave the way and hopes that this serves as baseline research for further investigations in the region. This work provides four major contributions: 1) complementary discussions on Ifugao social organisation by proposing the concept of house society and self‐organisation; 2) descriptions of the distribution of agricultural terraces and swidden fields in the Ifugao landscape by digitising land use maps prepared by Conklin; 3) an historical development and intensification model based on Ifugao agroecology; and 4) proposal of a later date of the Banaue agricultural terraces and development of a working model to date other agricultural terraces in the Philippine Cordillera. This study also contributes to larger Philippine and Southeast Asian anthropology and history (Figure 10). As mentioned earlier, the perceived differences between uncolonised (highland) and colonised (lowland) groups are results of history and colonialism, rather than differences in biology or environment. It is my hope that this study serves to change these perceptions.

Contributions to Wider Ifugao and Philippine Scholarship This research is intended to shed light on the relationships between Ifugao social organisation and landscape. Previous scholars have characterised Ifugao social organisation within lineage and kinship discourses. While these perspectives are useful in understanding the webs of Ifugao social relationships, they are inadequate in explaining how these webs are constructed. The use of the house concept, in addition to previous scholarship that utilised kinship models, provide us with the tool to investigate Ifugao social organisation that early ethnographers encountered. Establishing the house concept also allows us to investigate the self‐organising nature of agriculture‐related rituals. I argued earlier that self‐organisation was responsible in the decentralised nature of Ifugao irrigation management. This finding suggests that cooperation is the overriding concern in the Ifugao agricultural system—as exemplified by the practice of baddang/ uggbu (Ifugao customary cooperative‐like work groups). Related to the discussion on agricultural systems, this work dealt with agrarian issues that relate to the relationship between intensive agricultural terraces and extensive swidden fields. While the prevailing wisdom on this theme focuses on the evolutionary relationship between Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 55

Figure 10. Culture‐historical model for the development of Ifugao agricultural terraces. 56 Acabado the two systems, information on the distribution of the irrigated terraces and swidden fields—and ethnographic data—suggest that this is not applicable to the Ifugao case. Throughout history, swidden fields yielded more resources than irrigated rice terraces in Ifugao (Conklin 1967; Keesing 1962; Scott 1974). As such, I argue that the relationship between the two systems is based on risk minimisation. The importance of the Ifugao tripartite agricultural structure was also argued. Most studies on agrarian ecology focused on food production systems, and forest management was often ignored. The work of Sajor (1999) suggests that local agroforestry management is vital to the preservation of forest cover and watershed maintenance in Ifugao. I extend this argument and include agroforestry as part of the Ifugao agricultural system. As Eder’s (1982) study indicated, forest cover is important in the preservation of the Ifugao terraces.

Future Directions This work serves as a vehicle for further investigations in understanding the history of agricultural terraces and culture in the Philippine Cordilleras. The Bayesian methodology developed in this investigation can be applied to all agricultural terraces in the region as well as in other parts of the Philippines (and Southeast Asia). Results of radiocarbon determinations and use of a Bayesian model presented above provide promising avenue for finally establishing the origins, construction, and expansion of Philippine agricultural terraces. In addition, the use of house society to characterise the Ifugao social organisation could be further explored and extended to other Cordillera groups (i.e. Kalinga, Bontoc, Ibaloi) that share similar patterns with the Ifugao. Studies in other areas of Ifugao (and the Cordillera) will help calibrate the core assumptions mentioned in this paper. Since there is a likelihood of migration to the uplands as a response to the arrival of the Spanish, the interior of the Cordillera became a refugee destination. Early radiocarbon dates from future excavations should cluster around AD 1500. This will revise the dominant wisdom in Philippine history and open more research opportunities in this time period.

Acknowledgments

Funding for this project was provided by an NSF Dissertation Improvement Grant (NSF BCS07‐04008) and by the American Council of Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 57 Learned Societies/Henry Luce Foundation Initiative for East Asian Archaeology and Early History. Sincere appreciation is also owed to the UP‐ASP for offering invaluable assistance during the fieldwork component of this investigation. UP‐ASP provided highly‐trained excavation crew members for this research. To Taj Vitales, Aya Ragragio, Jane Carlos, Janine Ochoa, Leee Neri, Jack Medrana, Donna Arriola, Migs Canilao, Mindy Ceron, Tara Reyes, Anna Pineda, Edwin Valientes, Iza Campos, Roel Flores, and Rose Delson, MABALOS! I am also particularly grateful to the people of Ifugao, especially to the people of Poitan, Viewpoint, Ambalyu, and Bocos, who kindly welcomed and assisted the field crew and me in the investigation reported here. To Apu Pedro (Dimiag), Mang Delfin, Mang Allan, Kag. Ruben Tid‐ong, Kap. Ruben Bumipol, Kap. Allan Cutiyug, Doris Beyer, Maureen Salvador, and Armand Camhol, maraming salamat!

References Acabado, S. 2009. A Bayesian Approach to Dating Agricultural Terraces: A Case from the Philippines. Antiquity 83:801‐814. _____. 2010. Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces: Antiquity and Social Organisation. PhD Dissertation. University of Hawaii, Manoa. _____. In press. “Taro before rice terraces: Implications of radiocarbon determinations, ethnohistoric reconstructions, and ethnography in dating the Ifugao Terraces,” in Wet cultivation of Colocasia esculenta in the Indo‐Pacific: Archaeological, technological, social, and biological perspectives. Edited by D. Addison and M. Spriggs. Canberra: ANU Terra Australis. Alarcón, R. 1965. A Description of the Customs of the People of Kiangan, Bunhian and Mayaoyao in 1857 by Fray Ruperto Alarcón. Journal of the Folklore Institute 2:78‐100 Antolin, F. 1970. Notices of the Pagan Igorots in 1789. Asian Folklore Studies 19:177‐249. Balée, W. 2006. The Research Program of Historical Ecology. Annual Review of Anthropology 35:75‐98. Barton, R. F. 1919. Ifugao Law. University of California Publications in American Archaeology and Ethnology 15:1‐186. Beyer, H. O. 1955. The Origins and History of the Philippine Rice Terraces. Proceedings of the Eight Pacific Science Congress, 1953. Quezon City: National Research Council of the Philippines. 58 Acabado Bodner, C. 1986. On the Evolution of Agriculture in Central Bontoc. PhD Dissertation. University of Missouri, Columbia. Buck, C., W. Cavanagh, and C. Litton. 1996. The Bayesian Approach to Interpreting Archaeological Data. New York City: John Wiley and Sons. Conklin, H. C. 1967. Some Aspects of Ethnographic Research in Ifugao. New York Academy of Sciences, Transactions 30:99‐121. _____. 1972. Land Use in North Central Ifugao. New York: American Geographical Society. _____. 1980. Ethnographic Atlas of Ifugao. London: New Haven. Crumley, C. and W. Marquardt. 1990. ʺLandscape: A Unifying Concept in Regional Analysis,ʺ in Interpreting Space: GIS and Archaeology. Edited by K. M. Allen, S. W. Green, and E. B. W. Zubrow, pp. 73‐79. London: Taylor and Francis. Doolittle, W. 1990. Canal Irrigation in Prehistoric Mexico: The Sequence of Technological Change. Austin: University of Texas Press. Downing, T. and M. Gibson. 1974. Irrigation’s Impact on Society. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Dozier, E.P. 1966. Mountain Arbiters: The Changing Life of a Philippine Hill People. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Dye, T. S. 2009. “Traditional Hawaiian Surface Architecture: Absolute and Relative Dating,” in Research Designs for Hawaiian Archaeology: Agriculture, Astronomy and Architecture. Edited by T. S. Dye. Honolulu: Society for Hawaiian Archaeology. Eder, J. F. 1982. No Water in the Terraces: Agricultural Stagnation and Social Change at Banaue, Ifugao. Philippine Quarterly of Culture and Society, 10:101‐116. Geertz, C. 1980. Negara: The Theatre State in Nineteenth Century Bali. Princeton: Princeton University Publishers. Glick, T. 1970. Irrigation and Society in Medieval Valencia. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press. _____.1996. Irrigation and Hydraulic Technology: Medieval Spain and its Legacy. Aldershot, Hampshire: Ashgate Publishing Ltd. Glick, T. and H. Kirchner. 2000. “Hydraulic Systems and Technologies of Islamic Spain: History and Archeology,” in Working with Water in Medieval Europe: Technology and Resource‐Use. Edited by P. Squatriti, Landscapes and the Archaeology of the Ifugao Agricultural Terraces 59 pp. 267‐330. Leiden: Brill. Hunt, R. 1988. Size and the Structure of Authority in Canal Irrigation Systems. Journal of Anthropological Research 44:325‐355. Hunt, E. and R. Hunt. 1974. “Irrigation, Conflict, and Politics: A Mexican Case,” in Irrigation’s Impact on Society. Edited by T. Downing and M. Gibson, pp. 129‐157. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. _____. 1976. Canal Irrigation and Local Social Organisation. Current Anthropology 17:389‐411. Kha, N. 1965. The Forests of Pinus khasya and Pinus merkusii of Central Vietnam (Translated by Denys B. Fanshawe). Oxford: Commonwealth Forestry Institute. Keesing, F. 1962. The Ethnohistory of Northern Luzon. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Lambrecht, F. 1929. Ifugaw Villages and Houses. Publications of the Catholic Anthropological Conference 1(3):117‐141. Lansing, J. S. 1991. Priests and Programmers: Technologies of Power in the Engineered Landscape of Bali. Princeton: Princeton University Publishers. Lansing, S. and J. N. Kremer. 1993. Emergent Properties of Balinese Water Temple Networks: Coadaptation on a Rugged Fitness Landscape of Bali. American Anthropologist 95:97‐114. Lévi‐Strauss, C. 1982. The Way of the Masks (translated from French by Sylvia Modelski). Seattle: University of Washington Press. Mabry, J. 1996. Canals and Communities. Tucson: The University of Arizona Press. Maher, R. 1973. Archaeological Investigations in Central Ifugao. Asian Perspectives 16:1: 39‐70. _____. 1978. The Great Ifugao War: A Study in Archaeology and Oral History. Asian Perspectives 18:1:63‐74. _____. 1985. Archaeological Investigations in the Burnay District of Southeastern Ifugao, Philippines. Asian Perspectives 24: 223‐236. Netting, R. 1974. “The System Nobody Knows: Village Irrigation in the Swiss Alps,” in Irrigation’s Impact on Society. Edited by T. Downing and M. Gibson, pp. 67‐76. Tucson: University of Arizona Press. Newson, L. 2009. Conquest and Pestilence in the Early Spanish Philippines. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. 60 Acabado Pérez Rodríguez, V. 2006. States and Households: The Social Organisation of Terrace Agriculture in Postclassic Mizteca Alta, Oaxaca, Mexico. Latin American Antiquity 17(1):3‐22. Rambo, T. A. 1996. “The Composite Swiddening Agroecosystem of the Tay Ethnic Minority of the Northwestern Mountains of Vietnam,” in Land Degradation and Agricultural Sustainability: Case Studies from Southeast and East Asia. Edited by A. Patanothai, pp. 43‐64. Khon Kaen: Southeast Asian Universities Agroecosystem Network and Khon Kaen University. Sajor, E. 1999. Cutting Trees and the Dynamics of Social Change: The Case of the Ifugao Muyong in the Philippine Uplands. Working Papers, Institute of Social Studies #294. Scarborough, V., J. Schoenfelder and J. S. Lansing. 2000. Ancient water management and landscape transformation at Sebatu, Bali. Bulletin of the Indo‐Pacific Prehistory Association 20:79‐92. Schoenfelder, J. 2000. The Co‐Evolution of Agricultural and Sociopolitical Systems in Bali. Bulletin of the Indo Pacific Prehistory Association 20(4): 35‐47. Scott, W. H. 1974. The Discovery of the Igorots. Quezon City: New Day Publishers. UNESCO. 1995. Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras http://whc.unesco. org/pg.cfm?cid=31&id_site=722. Accessed March 3, 2004.

BOOK REVIEWS 61 BOOK REVIEWS

The Boys from the Barracks: The Philippine Military After EDSA (Updated Edition) Criselda Yabes 2009. Quezon City: Anvil Publishing Review by Roel Flores Technical Writer, Caloocan City Hall, Philippines BS Community Development 2007, University of the Philippines, Diliman After the miracle that was EDSA‐I, an event that ended the 20‐year dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos and helped install Corazon Aquino to the presidency; almost everyone was in a euphoric mood. So much that people hardly noticed the grumblings that were going on within the ranks of what some perceived as the real heroes of EDSA: the military. Not long after, these discontents turned into a series of coup de etat meant to topple the Aquino administration, attempts which did not achieve the desired end, but left the infant administration crippled nonetheless. Criselda Yabes presented these events in her first book The Boys from the Barracks (the Philippine Military After EDSA). It first came out in 1991, when the episodes were still fresh from everyone’s mind. In 2009, the author felt compelled to release an updated version; mainly because of the failed “mutinies” that happened during the presidency of Gloria Macapagal‐Arroyo (GMA). The old version is divided into three Parts. The first two Parts set the staged for the one Part titled Seven Days in December, the bloodiest attempt by the military rebels to seize power. Main players were introduced, and their reasons for either joining the malcontents, or remaining loyal to the sitting president were discussed. The last part shows some recalcitrant rebels licking their wounds, picking up the pieces, planting the seeds for yet another rebellion, planning from inside military jail cells, or for those lucky enough not to be captured, hopping from one military camp to another. In the updated version, an epilogue was added, narrating the military adventurism during the administration of GMA. The author presented the events like a novel, without over‐ analysing the facts. Excerpts from a speech by Capt. Ricardo Morales to a group of officers after the 1989 coup were used as introductions to every part. The Seven Days in December part will not let the reader put down the book until the part where the rebellion was put down. She does not judge, but lets the readers do that instead. Her friendship with the main players, 62 Flores especially the rebels, enabled her to gather facts unavailable to other writers. Anecdotes give faces to the otherwise grim façade of the rebels as shown on the television. The photo gallery provides a glimpse of how the key players looked like then; it also shows photographs of a young Danilo Lim, rebel then, rebel now. Reading the book, one gets the impression of spoiled military men who will stage a mutiny if they are not allowed to have their way. And juxtaposed with what happened and what is happening, the impression might be more than justified, because instead of the military being beholden to the people, the one in power is afraid of the army, lest he or she incurs the displeasure of these brats. People in uniform elicit fear, not respect. Things have not changed much. If the results of the 2010 national election are of any indication, the people behind those unrests, recent or otherwise, are still around. And are still in power. The United States of America still play a big role in our affairs. It is said that the people are the true heroes, unless everybody realised this, army men, will always think of themselves as saviours, and this book might yet need another updated version.

Urbanization and Formation of Ethnicity in Southeast Asia Edited by Toh Goda 2008. Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers. Review by Eleanor Marie S. Lim Graduate student, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines At first glance, the title of the book appears to involve the entire Southeast Asia, which is just illogical and absurd since there is no way that a single book can encompass the ethnic groups in the whole Southeast Asia in its 200‐plus pages. However, reading the preface, the editor states that only four countries, namely: Philippines, Indonesia, Malaysia and Vietnam would be the focus of this volume. Consisting of 11 chapters in total, the first four chapter focus on the Philippines, followed by two articles regarding Malaysia, then one on Indonesia, and two chapters concerning Vietnam. The contributors are all Asian, mostly from Japan—seven, and Vietnam—two. A profile of all contributors can be found after the bibliography section of this volume. Toh Goda, the editor of this book, Urbanization and Formation of Ethnicity in Southeast Asia, is professor of social anthropology at the BOOK REVIEWS 63 Graduate School of Intercultural Studies in Kobe University, Japan. While he was a doctoral student in Tokyo Metropolitan University, he received a grant in the University of the Philippines from 1974 to 1976. Since then, his study concentration has been on the Cordillera region of the Philippines. He has written three ethnographies and edited several books. His interests include the theory of anthropological study in politics, ethnicity, urbanisation and culture change. The book presents comparative field data of the urbanisation and formation of ethnicity in the four aforementioned countries. This subject is important due to the swift proclivity of globalisation, since according to the editor, people in developing countries are dealing with the pressures in achieving economic stability, efficiency and high productivity, and to adapt to this, people have been moving to urban regions or other countries in search of employment. To understand the complexity of the matters, Goda submits the triangular prism model of society, which has three phases: the first and upper phase is that of nation‐states, which involves the government, civil society and market economy; the third phase at the bottom of this prism is that of traditional society (i.e. traditional leadership, gift exchange and self sufficiency economy); and lastly, the second phase, which intercedes the two aforesaid phases, is the triangular fields of intermediate phase. This includes the local government, ethnicity and market economy. An example of this second phase is reciprocated aid funding and microcredit between traditional gift exchange and market economy. Since the urbanisation in the Third World is tightly related to the second phase, this book’s major concern is the formation and transformation of this phase. This can be illustrated by the nature of citizenship—non‐citizens or half‐citizens (e.g. squatters and temporal immigrants in the prime city) in the urban environments in Southeast Asia. Concerns such as whether or not they are assured of citizen’s rights like pension and health insurance, squatters’ rights of residence, indigenous peoples’ rights to their ancestral domains, or how the government can deal with these matters are only some of the problems arisen from the intermediate phase. This collection aims to clarify and highlight the ideological level of nation‐states and the structure and function of the traditional society, and most of all on the intermediate phase of the two different phases—nation‐ states and traditional society. Additionally, this book analyses the various 64 Lim realms of urbanisation in Southeast Asia. In the introduction, Goda explores the problems and prospects in the anthropological study of the urbanisation and formation of ethnicity in Southeast Asia. He first defines urbanisation based on the characteristics listed by Keensing, including its limitations such as religion and the type of government, and Tambiah’s emphasis on the importance of the formation of ethnicity in urban environment. Goda places great importance in the relation of the two (urbanisation and the formation of ethnicity) since he believes that the nation‐states are “a result of multi‐ethnic, multi‐racial and multi‐religious condition.” As further highlight to urban ethnicity, the editor chooses to consider the different kinds of cities to scrutinise the shared relations between government policies for ethnic minorities and the effects of these policies to the people. He defines city in a general sense, which is “an administrative unit based on population”, and which varies from one country to another’s legal definition. He mentions Low’s classification of cities in accord of the social, functional, historical and symbolic indexes: Ethnic City, Divided City, Gendered City and Contested City. On an economic view, cities are divided into three sets: Deindustrialized City, Global City and Informational City. Another perspective—the urban planning and architecture views, cities have three classifications: Modernist City, Postmodern City and Fortress City. Based on religion and culture, the two types of cities are Sacred City and Traditional City. And based on the cities in Southeast Asia, Goda also adds two more models, namely, Primate City and Hill Station City. Moreover, Goda discusses the triangular relations of politics, economics and communities in traditional societies and nation‐states, involving its ideologies, which reflects in parallel in the two (e.g. redistribution of wealth: in nation‐states, through taxation and public investments while in traditional societies, this is portrayed by tributes and ritual feasts of merit). And due to traditional societies being incorporated into the nation‐states and world economic systems, an intermediate arena was created due to the relations of the two. The intermediate arena includes the local government, NGO (Non‐Government Organisation) and NPO (National Preservation Office), and the Informal Sector. He then combines these three domes, creating a triangular prism of its relations to one another. Another portion of Goda’s introduction is a brief exposition on the theory of culture change, involving the approach of functionalism, functional‐structural approach and the conflict theory. He, however, BOOK REVIEWS 65 stresses that this book will disregard the functional integrated society, but will more revolve around the common relation between the traditional society and nation‐states, centring on the ethnicity and process of adaptation of ethnic groups to urban environment. And lastly, Goda succinctly addresses the contents of each contributor’s articles as a sneak preview before he ends his introduction. The first chapter is written by Yasuaki Tamaki, entitled City, Civil Society and Minority: The Case of the Aeta and the City of Tayabas and Lucena, Quezon, Philippines. His focus is on the relationship of the Aeta with the cities and ‘civil society’. In the first section, he discusses the historical background of the Aeta living in Tayabas and Lucena. This consists of a brief history of the two areas, and the mention that the Aetas were already present in the areas when the Spaniards arrived—according to a Spanish document. He also shortly describes how the Aetas became a minority and how their nomadic lifestyle changed through time due to different factors (e.g. to provide school education to their children). The second section is about the Aeta and the cities, which is divided into two parts: survival and subsistence in urban setting and Aetas and the two cities (Tayabas and Lucena). As the title of the first part states, it is about how the Aeta make their living in the region, depicting their vending business and their target areas, their difficulty in maintaining their incomes and customers, and the role reversal of the Aeta men and women. The various organisations that reached out and aided these people are also included in this part. Somehow, there is a tinge of bitterness on Tamaki’s part as he states that there are several communities of poor people all over the Philippines yet has had not received any attention or aid as the Aetas. The fact that “Aetas are a minority and ‘indigenous people,’ and they live close to the city,” thus making them (the Aetas) “good to aid and easy to approach for students, NGOs and other civil organizations.” On the other hand, the second part talks about the fact that the cities of Tayabas and Lucena has no influence whatsoever on the Aetas’ lifestyle and identity— that even though they reside there, they are neither a ‘citizen’ of the two cities at first. After the administrative intervention, where the Aetas registered as residents and voters, several problems arose, with the Aetas at a disadvantage. This part also includes the discrimination and negative views of the Aetas by the majority of the residents of the cities. The third section is about the relationship of the Aeta community and ‘civil society,’ and how Aetas became actors of civil society. As 66 Lim mentioned above, the Aeta community became an easy target for NGOs and other organisations. Again, Tamaki tartly states that even though these volunteers aided the Aetas, they never empowered them to rely on themselves. Thus, consequently rendering these people dependent, powerless and unstructured. But on the lighter side, the second part of this section notes how the Aetas changed the perspectives of the Tagalog people regarding their group. The fourth section deals with land rights of the Aetas, and their relationship with NCIP (National Commission on Indigenous People) officials. Since Aetas have no permanent residence, there is a difficulty concerning the first matter, as they appear to be not recipients of benefits of the IPRA (Indigenous People Right Act). On the second part, there is an elaborated discussion on relations and conflicts between the two parties (Aetas and NCIP officials) as the two try to come to an understanding in how both would benefit from their relation. To end this chapter, Tamaki concludes to continually observe the fates of the Aetas as they continue to live in a rapidly developing environment that greatly affects their life‐long ways of living. Goda himself wrote the second chapter, which is entitled as Formation of Igorot Village in Cainta, Rizal Province, Philippines. Here, Goda considers the culture change upon migration. He begins with the recognition of the Igorot Village, mainly occupied by the Igorots (Bontok and Kankana‐ey) in San Juan, Cainta, Rizal. He describes the village to be a fort‐like community, surrounded by a tall wall, and that no outsider can easily enter the village without being scrutinised by the residents. Goda also mentions that there are non‐Igorot residents in the community, but these residents are not ‘formal members’ of the community. Furthermore, Goda examines the cultural traits and trans‐regional ties they maintain (e.g. traditions, rituals). There is also an analysis of the people’s reaction regarding the IPRA, and the deduction that ethnicity has been toughened through daily activities to develop their livelihood. The third chapter, Urbanisation Among the Waray Squatters of Tacloban City, Leyte, Philippines, is written by a Filipino, Artemio C. Barbosa. His introduction talks about the housing plans of the National Government due to urbanisation, discussing the catalysts of this programme in detail. For his focus of study, he first describes Tacloban City, its location, logistics, and the like before he turns to his main topic: the Waray Ethnicity. BOOK REVIEWS 67 He depicts the Waray ethnicity in the urban setting wherein the Warays have maintained their identity. He greatly illustrates some of their celebrations such as weddings and dances. He also describes their way of life, livelihood and their family relations. As Tacloban City is going through urban development, the slum settlements were demolished to pave way for infrastructures and other government projects, forcing the affected communities to move to the outskirts of the downtown in the city. Barbosa states that there are struggles between the people and the government due to such changes. But then again, the Waray community has very much integrated themselves within the ways of the city. They became proactive with regards of economic activities, with some searching for domestic and overseas employment. For those who could not find work outside the city, they had settled for jobs that they could find within the city. Some even ventured into entrepreneurship. And due to the city promoting the culture and traditions of the Warays, this in turn made the Waray’s knowledge of their cultural heritage help the city in promoting tourism in the province. In his conclusion, Barbosa affirms that changes and progress are a continuing process, and that conflicts cannot be easily avoided since urban planning is not an immediate process, but a long‐term one. The Contemporary Rural‐Urban Linkages: A Case of the Philippines is the fourth chapter, authored by Itaru Nagasaki. As the title indicates, Nagasaki focuses on the contemporary rural‐urban linkages in the Philippines within the environment of the current socio‐economic situations in Metro Manila. He has two sets of fieldwork data: one was conducted in the village of Salpad in Ilocos Norte, and the other was done in Metro Manila, however the interviewees were originally from Salpad. He also has a short discussion on the history of migration from the Ilocos Region and Salpad to Metro Manila. His paper focuses on the die cutting industry in Metro Manila, wherein people from Salpad and its bordering villages entered the industry in the early 1960s. He discusses on how it began with a single man, who was later joined by his cousin in working in a die cutting factory, and how they founded their own factory after acquiring the set of skills. Nagasaki pays special attention on the fact that the workers hired by these two Ilocanos were either a close kin or a fellow villager. He also shows that due to this, a pattern emerged from this. Young and less educated men relocated to Metro Manila to work in those factories, and then later, some of those men consequently opened their small‐scale factories (after 68 Lim acquiring the necessary skills). Then these owners would hire their relatives and fellow villagers, and carry on to be connected with their kin in their homeland to respond to the demands for labour. This case study is enormously essential to understand the urbanisation in Southeast Asia since it is associated to the socioeconomic conditions of the contemporary Metro Manila. Nagasaki provides a concrete example of the constant significance of kin and village system in rural‐urban migration and people’s livelihood in the cities in contemporary Southeast Asia. The fifth chapter no longer speaks about the Philippines, but of Malaysia. Toshihiro Nobuta’s Urbanisation and Indigenous People: Development among the Orang Asli, Malaysia centred on the issues of development amongst the Orang Asli, an ethnic minority in Malaysia. He mentions that there are presently three main ethnic groups in Peninsular Malaysia: the Malays, the Chinese and the Indians. Additionally, various ethnic minority groups also reside in Peninsular Malaysia; Orang Asli, being one of these ethnic minority groups. Nobuta studies the possible destruction of the Orang Asli due to the rapid and drastic urbanisation in Malaysia as they are in danger of losing their ethnic identity and cultural traditions. However, efforts are being made in maintaining or regenerating these. Nobuta centres particularly on the issues of development amid the Orang Asli as urbanisation might be defined as development in their case. He outlines the present conditions of the Orang Asli, and discusses the issues regarding the developing projects and how some of these negatively affect the ethnic group, especially when it comes to their traditional territories. The Orang Asli has even organised their own NGO for the purpose of reconstructing their autonomy. Although there are foreign NGOs, the support of both this and the government is not sufficient enough, forcing the Orang Asli to accept the unjust circumstance of being the victim of development. In his conclusion, Nobuta discusses what the future might hold for the Orang Asli. Chapter Six revolves on The Development of Miri City and the Ethnicity of Minority Groups in Northern Sarawak by Masao Ishii. In this essay, Ishii focuses on the history and ethnicity of Miri and its surroundings, concisely explaining the development of Miri City, their migration, and the distribution of a variety of ethnic groups related to the development of the city. Through this, he discusses the altering conditions BOOK REVIEWS 69 of different ethnic groups (i.e. merging, dissolution, forming and reforming, self‐assertion of ethnic groups) in relation to urbanisation. The rapid growth of urbanisation in Malaysia has completely altered the sense of ethnicity of Northern Sarawak. In recent years, most of ethnic movements are concentrated in the urban area, led by the younger generations. It is also worth noting that despite the wide range of ethnic groups living in Sarawak, there have had not been a single case of ethnic conflict and ethnic violence. Ishii concludes that ethnolocalities through the emphasis on the richness of cultural variety highlight the positivity and the centrality of urbanisation. Hisashi Endo opens his essay on The Location of Ethnicity and Spatial Segregation in Metropolitan Area, Malaysia with a short narrative of two films, showing the urban life in Malaysia back then and the mono‐ethnicity or the lack of multi‐ethnicity in Malay cinemas. This observation is possibly what made Endo examine how the multi‐ethnicity and ethnic spatial segregation have been constructed in the metropolitan area of Malaysia. A brief history of Kuala Lumpur is discussed, mainly showing that the town is divided into a Chinese Quarter and a Malay Quarter, which are separated plainly by a street. The China town is located on the southern side, where many Chinese people reside in the surrounding area, and the Malay population stays on the northeastern side of Kuala Lumpur. Additionally, on the right side of the Klang River—the Garden City is where the Westerners mainly resided. This is the way the spatial segregation was established. The films he had first described in his introduction can now be said that they truly mirror the situations in Kuala Lumpur. Endo concludes that the critical defining moment to reform the Malaysian nation is the revision of land laws concerning the Malay reservation and the reconstruction of social spaces in progress in the metropolitan area. Chapter Eight is an article by Shamsul A.B. entitled, Spheres of Control in Postcolonial Plural Societies: The Malaysian Experience. He deeply delves into the history of Malaysia in its postcolonial period, stating that the nation attempts to find balance between the economic development and political stability. He first illustrates the historical constructions of the different domains of control (from the Malaysian case), and how various laws were established and come to coexist in the present time. He also 70 Lim provides commentaries on how these different set of laws have played a role to and became the variables regarding the ‘domains of control’ have occurred in Malaysia—especially on the matter on how a Malaysian nation should be defined and represented and by whom. In his ending, Shambul states that due to the complicated nature of the fundamental rights in relation to one’s ethnicity and religion, coupled with what urbanism bring about, the ethnicity in urban Malaysia has become too complex. The eighth chapter is the last article that deals with Malaysia, and the subject matter has now moved on to Indonesia. In the ninth chapter, Makoto Ito’s Peranakanization, Indonesian‐ization and Cultural Citizenship Among the Ethnic Chinese in an Indonesian Town: the Case of Makassar, the author focuses on the changing identities of the ethnic Chinese in Indonesia, revolving on those Chinese descendants living or who were once residents in Makassar. He explains briefly the expansion of the Chinese Diaspora in Makassar and how the inhabitants have transformed their identity through time. Ito indicates that the two concepts of peranakanisation and resinicisation are now turning less practical due to its merging and thus becoming a process of Indonesianisation. In Makassar, a new generation arises and grows among the Chinese descendants that could possibly begin to shape a new ethnicity in most of the urban settings in Indonesia. The last two chapters of this book both deals with Vietnam. Chapter Ten, The Raglai Social Management and Administrative System in the Bac Ai District, Ninh Thuan Province, Vietnam, is authored by Hoang Van Viet. He studies the urbanisation process of the Raglai people, who lived chiefly in Ninh Thuan and Khanh Hoa provinces. Originally, he is supposed to study the Raglai people in the Khanh Son district in Khanh Hoa, however due to some initial obstacles, the research site is changed to the Bai Ai district in Ninh Thuan province. He describes the nine communities in Bai Ai district to be in deep poverty—according to the terms in Programme 135 of the government. But even so, the Raglai people can sustain their meagre lifestyle through cultivation on the mountain fields, hunting, and domestication of buffaloes and poultry. The strong influence of resistance against foreign invasion and attack of industrialisation and modernisation in reform times have changed the face of the whole Raglai community. Viet points out that the organisational and managerial system of the traditional society was completely severed, but the people have maintained strong positive relationships. The organisational and managerial system of the modern BOOK REVIEWS 71 life, however, was strengthened and became the key aspect in the Raglai community, and despite hardships, the Raglai people are steadily adapting to the new way of living. In the last chapter, The Suitability of the Khmer Traditional Socio‐ political Institutions in Their Ethnicity Process in Mekong Delta by Phan An, the author examines the Khmer ethnic group in the Mekong delta to exhibit the compatibility between traditional and current sociopolitical system of an ethnic minority community in Vietnam. This research on the Khmer community undergoing urbanisation has exposed some fascinating developments. In his field research, Phan An discovers that a part of the sociopolitical traditional system is incompatible with the improvement of modern life, however, another part of it has been implemented or improved in modern life (e.g. openness to the public, democracy). And thus, the acceptance of these traditional factors was able to aid the system gain the people’s consensus. All the chapters may appear to be very different from one another, but after reading all through it, common denominators are evident (i.e. urbanisation affects the formation of ethnicity in these countries). This book has lots of merits. The works are very personal, without appearing informal. The issues each authors have tackled in their articles are well‐written, organised, fluid and clear. Despite of the chapters being lengthy, the backgrounds and introduction the authors have included in their works are necessary information to easily understand what they have discussed and what they wished to convey to the readers. Photographs and maps are also appropriately provided, even though some are blurred and indistinguishable due to it being printed in black and white (possibly). The language lacks complexity, as it appears to be intended for under‐ graduates, postgraduates and practicing professionals. For those who are interested in studying ethnic minority groups in relation to modernisation/ urbanisation, this volume is definitely recommended.

72 Reyes Memories of a Dutchman during the Birth of a Nation Review by Joan Tara Reyes MA, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines

The Philippines through European Lenses: Late 19th Century Photographs from the Meerkamp van Embden Collection Otto van den Muijzenberg 2008. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press As a History major during my undergraduate years, I was taught that in one historical event, there can be numerous versions and interpretations. Answering the wheres and whens are the easiest, but the whys, hows, and even the whats make the best historians argue among each other. For example, we all know that Mary was in the park yesterday. But did she really buy a balloon? If she bought a red balloon, why not the blue one? Where did she get the money to buy one? Then the story will get more complicated when we hear the eyewitness accounts, because everybody has a version to tell what Mary did yesterday. I was reminded of this lesson when I read Otto van den Muijzenberg’s book entitled “The Philippines through European Lenses: Late 19th Century Photographs from the Meerkamp van Embden Collection.” In this book, van den Muijzenberg compiled the old collection of a Dutch businessman and diplomat of old photographs in the Philippines. He also wrote the contexts of the times and places that the photographs were taken to give the reader a background about the exciting period of 1880s–1920s in the Philippines. Photographs are often seen as unbiased representations of the past. The places, times, and faces on the photographs are definite and unchanging. The messages that they send to the one who looks is a whole different story.

The Author Otto van den Muijzenberg collected and presented a selection of photographs shot in the Philippines. He is a Professor Emeritus of Sociology and Modern History of South and Southeast Asia at the University of Amsterdam, the Netherlands. He also finished his undergraduate and graduate degrees at the same university (http:// www.assr.nl/scholars/staff/vandenmuijzenberg.html). He has written, co‐ BOOK REVIEWS 73 written, and co‐edited books about sociology (van den Muijzenberg and Wolters 1988) and Southeast Asia (van den Muijzenberg et al. 1982 and Dahles and Muijzenberg 2003). Two of which, including the book being reviewed, are about the Philippines (van den Muijzenberg and van den Muijzenberg 1992; van den Muijzenberg 2008). In his latest work, he organised a collection of old photographs of the Philippines, accompanied by stories about the man who collected it and the period when the photographs were collected.

Looking through the European’s Observations The main character of van den Muijzenberg’s narrative is P. K. A. Meerkamp van Embden. He was a cigar manufacturer and import‐exporter in the Philippines for more than 40 years. He was, for a time, the Netherlands’ consul in the country. During his stay, he collected a considerable number of photographs shot in the Philippines. Some photographs were bought, some were taken by him, and some were given by friends. Each photograph shows the different sides of the life of a Dutch expatriate and the mundane or extraordinary things that amused him during his stay in the Philippines. The book is divided into six chapters. Each chapter is accompanied with photographs that best fit the narrations of the author. The first chapter explains how van den Muijzenberg encountered the photographs at the Royal Netherlands Institute of Southeast Asian and Caribbean Studies. He discussed how other publications and collections have shown the Philippines in different perspectives. He pointed out how some photographs from the Philippines were taken for anthropology museums and even postcards. In the second chapter, he introduced Meerkamp van Embden as a scion of a Dutch family engaged in the tobacco business. Meerkamp van Emden came to the Philippines in 1883 as an employee of the Dutch agency Van Polanen Petel y Compañia. This lucrative business allowed Meerkamp van Embden to stay in Manila for a long time. The author provided a historical background on what was the social, economic, and political state of the Philippines from the late 1800s to the early 1900s. According to the author, he chose to emphasise this period and its photographs because of the political changes the Philippines was 74 Reyes undergoing. During this time, propagandists and later revolutionaries were active, each having his/her own ideas on how the country should be run. Back then, the Philippines was a colony of Spain and the late 1800s was a period of upheaval for freedom either conditional or immediate. This was also a time when the galleon trade was long forgotten and the tobacco monopoly had ended. Here, foreign tobacco traders, such as Meerkamp van Embden, came to the Philippines to manufacture and export cigars. The Philippines was perfect for Meerkamp van Embden together with the other foreign businessmen for trading. The tobacco plant grows here and the cigar rollers were cheap labour. The country is a neighbour of the Dutch colony Indonesia, where they planted and manufactured more cigars. The cost of living is relatively low. Foreign traders such as them could afford a big house with an army of servants, expensive furniture, and dinnerware, not to mention the capacity to host lavish parties with their fellow expatriates in their beautiful houses found in prime real estates. Some photographs of important places were shown. Places such as the economic district of Escolta, the busy ports along the Pasig River, and the up and coming expensive residential areas such as Sta. Mesa, Paco, and Pasay were depicted. One can see the landscape of the soon‐to‐be cities of Metro Manila back when the sites were covered with vegetation with only a few houses. The author reported that Meerkamp van Embden valued the houses near Escolta where he holds his business but later he transferred to the residential area when he had his own family. One can imagine how the social landscape was of Manila before. The third chapter further discusses Meerkamp van Embden’s tobacco business and how the expatriates lived in the Philippines. He lived in a Manila where there were many foreigners engaging in import‐export businesses and even productions for local consumption. Meerkamp van Embden mainly interacted with his fellow Europeans and tobacco manufacturers. The book also mentioned some Spanish colonial officials that he interacted with but his photographs mainly featured the non‐ Spanish European businessmen and their families. Van den Muijzenberg narrates how these Europeans rented prime real estate and donned their houses with European furniture. He described the parties that they go to from children’s birthdays to formal balls. The Europeans’ children had also been mentioned in this chapter. Van den Muijzenberg writes the stories of the son and daughter of BOOK REVIEWS 75 the Meerkamp van Embden household. Their photographs were taken mainly in their garden. One photograph shows a Filipina nanny holding the infant daughter. There was also a photograph of the household staff consisting of coachmen, a gardener, and a cook. All were Filipinos except for the Chinese gardener. This further emphasised how opulent lives the expatriates lived and the roles of Filipinos in their lives. Another luxurious leisure activity that the foreigners took pleasure in was traveling and hunting. There are many photographs in the book showing the hunting trips and the provinces they have visited. In these, the foreigners’ interactions with the Filipinos were very socially stratified. The foreigners were seen as mainly hunters and the Filipinos were the guides when they trekked the densely vegetated forests. Some Filipinos were shown as man‐servants who attend to them while lounging. Even outside their homes, working and lower class Filipinos practically attend to all their needs. While in Chapter Four, van den Muijzenberg chose to show photographs given to Meerkamp van Embden by his friends who traveled in the Cordilleras and the island of Marinduque. In most photographs, you can tell that the local Cordillerans were asked to pose for the camera. Sometimes, they were shown standing in a single file with males and females on each side. In some photographs, the locals were doing their daily activities such as rice‐pounding and metal‐working. There are also close‐up photographs of warriors with their weapons. These are most interesting for me because the photos show their ornaments in detail. Such images can be seen as collection of anthropological data. In Chapter Five, the author narrated the travels of Meerkamp van Embden and his fellow expatriates to the other islands in the archipelago onboard the ship Uranus. His narration began about the economic importance of abaca fiber. Although Meerkamp van Embden worked as a tobacco manufacturer, van den Muijzenberg managed to collect a number of photographs showing the processing of abaca fibers. Back then, the Philippines particularly the Bicol region was a source of these fibers used for making good rope. Meerkamp van Embden might have collected these for an economic report for his government or maybe as documentation for future business ventures. Meerkamp van Embden have also visited the islands of Romblon, Cebu, Leyte, and Samar. He had reached Surigao where “some of the best hemp is pressed” (p. 237). He also visited the hemp plantations in 76 Reyes Camiguin island. Later, they visited Misamis, Bohol, and Iloilo. These travels happened from 1884 to 1894. After 1894, a lot have changed in the political climate of the Spanish colony. As seen in Chapter Six, van den Muijzenberg tackled what he called as the “Revolutionary Times.” Although Meerkamp van Embden left the country in 1896, he managed to collect photographs during the war against the Spanish. He came back in time to witness the war against the Americans. Meerkamp van Embden’s photographs about the Philippine‐ American war were few but important. A photo shows the entry of the then leader of the revolution General Emilio Aguinaldo. There are photographs of sunken war ships and even war prisoners. As we can see, this period was very pivotal in the birth of the Philippine nation. According to van den Muijzenberg, foreigners such as Meerkamp van Embden stayed away from all the fighting and shared neither opinion nor chose sides. They chose to stand behind the fighting lines, and just observed for it did not matter which side would win. The most important thing was to have good relations with the winner for future business ventures. Such actless participation was seen in the photographs just showing the aftermath of war and never the “action shots.”

Looking at the European Observer Van den Muijzenberg managed to organise the photographs and create a narrative to go with it. This is not an easy task for the nature of the photographs was disarranged and sometimes neither date nor caption was written on some of them. He actually researched when and where the photographs were taken. His background information about the photographs’ subjects were helpful in visualising the period when they were taken. He effectively narrated the Dutchman’s life as a businessman and a European in the Philippines. Van den Muijzenberg clearly depicted the Dutch companies, and their household up to the vacations they took in the Philippines. He even mentioned the small role of Meerkamp van Embden during the revolution but adequately narrated the aims and events anyway of the Filipino Revolution for the reader’s comprehension. It is commendable that the author clearly, although briefly, mentioned the 1896 Revolution up to the 1898 Declaration of Independence.

BOOK REVIEWS 77 The European’s Life One can read many information about the dealings of the European company owners in the Philippines when one reads this book. From tobacco, hemp, and even liquor, there are well‐researched write‐ups about the foremost European businesses in this book. One can also understand how these Europeans lived along with their families. I have felt that most of these foreigners very seldom interact with the locals and even the Spaniards unless in official and business terms. It can be seen in the photographs that there are only two kinds of Filipinos in the European’s life: household staff and local officials. The Spaniards, on the other hand, were mere colonial officials.

Their Influence The lack of interaction between Filipinos and non‐Spanish Europeans can be seen through the Filipinos’ cultural and political life. There are very few influences of the non‐Spanish kind. Their main influence was mainly economic. As seen in the photographs, there is one obvious social change they have caused. When Meerkamp van Embden’s cigar factory was operating, the cigar rollers were mainly local women. We do know that before the cigar factories, women do help around the fields, manufacture products such as pots and cloth, and sell food and different articles (e.g. betel chew, fish, and vegetables). These were small in scale compared to the lines and lines of women in a factory rolling cigars together with their daughters. This is quite a change in those times that the historian Luisa Camagay (1995) have studied and seen this period as an important time in studying the history of women in the Philippines. Although van den Muijzenberg did not stress this, he actually supplied information about the state of women cigar rollers back then. In terms of employer‐employee relationships in the cigar factory, there is a high probability that there was little interaction. The Europeans relay their commands through a few educated Filipinos who can communicate with the factory workers from the rollers to the mechanics (p. 82‐83). One famous example of this is Andres Bonifacio who worked for an English company in Manila. Bonifacio was able to communicate in English, which was self‐taught (Agoncillo 1956). Seeing the photographs on pages 82 and 83 remind me how the Dutch controlled Indonesia through the local leaders. This resulted into a few influences of the Dutch to the Indonesians who largely retained their 78 Reyes Islam faith. This was the opposite to the Filipinos under Spain where majority of the locals converted to Christianity. This shows in the photographs of Meerkamp van Embden, where Filipinos dress in more conservative garbs compared to the ones who still practice the indigenous religion.

The Filipinos’ roles in the Europeans’ Lives Like the Americans, the Europeans took some photographs for anthropological purposes. The photographs about the Cordillerans were testaments to this. There, male, female, adult, and child “specimens” were closely photographed, complete with ornaments and some in action doing their daily chores. The warriors were also photographed. Because Meerkamp van Embden did not photograph the locals, it is probable that some of Meerkamp van Embden’s friends were interested in studying the locals. Such interest can be seen in the Museum of Ethnology in Leiden, the Netherlands, where many Philippine artefacts are currently stored (van den Muijzenberg 2008). Adding to this view, there are the mountain guides, nannies, clerks, cooks, and coachmen that are represented in the photographs. The only upperclass Filipinos represented are the local gobernadorcillos in the provinces that they have visited. During the Revolution, they began to see the Filipinos as fighters until the Philippine‐American war. These images are represented in the photographs in Chapter Six. What about the Philippines as an archipelago? How was the colony represented? Photographs portraying landscapes, houses, and buildings are quite entertaining to see, especially now that time has changed these places. Meerkamp van Embden did collect a lot of these photographs. He managed to have old pictures of Escolta and Ermita which are still commercial areas. Places such as Pasay, Paco, and Parañaque were inhabited by a few families mostly residing in bahay kubos. There are also photographs of beaches, ports, and forts. These photographs are very “neutral” and can be conceived as for reporting purposes to the mother country. Meerkamp van Embden had very few photographs of forts which lessen the probability of using it for military intelligence, or so I thought. Basically, these photographs say “This is the Philippines” according BOOK REVIEWS 79 to Meerkamp van Embden. This is the Philippines he knew. It looks like the Philippines is just an archipelago with islands suitable for money‐ making ventures based on the photographs that van den Muijzenberg published.

Conclusion All in all, van den Muijzenberg presented the photographs well. The background historical narrative was sufficient. Readers who have no information about the Philippines’ colonial history will not be lost when reading the book. He also clearly illustrated the life of the Europeans in the Philippines which was rarely studied. This work added more information about the role of Europeans in the Philippines’ economic colonial history. This book is a big contribution in studying a part of the Philippines’ history often overlooked by most. He also imparted the European observers’ views about the Philippine Revolution. This supplied a third person’s point of view about a very important part of Filipino history. Van den Muijzenberg successfully presented the views of the European eyewitnesses and gave a fresh look in the Filipinos’ past. Filipinos have continuously discussed and restudied their history. Historical sources are continuously read and re‐read to know what really happened in the past. The European perspective adds more insights in the endless but exciting discussions about what really happened in the past.

References Agoncillo, T. 1956. Revolt of the Masses: The Story of Bonifacio and the Katipunan. Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press. Camagay, M. L. 1995. Working Women of Manila in the 19th Century. Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press. Dahles, H. and O. van den Muijzenberg. 2003.Capital and Knowledge in Asia: Changing Power Relations. New York: RoutledgeCurzon. Otto van den Muijzenberg. (n.d.) http://www.assr.nl/scholars/staff/ vandenmuijzenberg.html. Accessed September 2009. van den Muijzenberg, O., P. Streefland and W. Wolters. (eds.) 1982. Focus on the Region in Asia. Rotterdam: CASP, Erasmus University Press. _____. 2008. The Philippines through European Lenses: Late 19th Century Photographs from the Meerkamp van Embden Collection. Quezon City: 80 Reyes Ateneo de Manila University Press. van den Muijzenberg, O. D. and O. van den Muijzenberg. 1992. Dutch Filipiniana: An Annotated Bibliography of Dutch Publications on the Philippines. Leiden: Koninklyk Instituut Voor Taal Land. van den Muijzenberg, O. and W. Wolters. 1988. Conceptualizing Development: The Historical Sociological Tradition in Dutch Non Western Sociology. USA: Foris Publications.

A Lemery Archaeological Sequence Cecilia Y. Locsin, Maria Isabel G. Ongpin, and Socorro Paz P. Paterno 2008. Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press Review by Anna L. Pineda Graduate student, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines As a finished product of an excavation that closed during the 1970’s, it is needless to enumerate the importance of this book. It is a very welcomed study on the archaeological excavation done in Ayao‐Iyao, Lemery, Batangas, Philippines. The site report, much like the excavation, is a complete analysis of the cultural sequence that occurred within the site. It is available from the Ateneo de Manila University Press, and is the collaborative effort based on the separate masters theses of the three authors: Cecilia Y. Locsin, Maria Isabel G. Ongpin, and Socorro Paz P. Paterno. The book is available in both hardbound and paperback editions. The foreword is presented by Dr. Wilhelm G. Solheim, one of the leading pottery experts whose expertise ranges from the Neolithic to the Metal Age in Southeast Asia, including the Philippines. In the Introduction, which in itself is an important part of the book, the authors explain the lengthy analysis, writing, and publication processes. The first chapter deals with the current literature used throughout the study. It is, perhaps, one of the most important parts of the book that, unfortunately, falls flat with regards to simplified and unexhausted sources that the authors used. The publications used regarding the archaeological studies, at most, ended at around 1978. This is an oversight that sets the framework for the entire read: the possibility of out‐of‐date information that will require the readers to find other updated reports. This includes using the so‐called Tasaday community (that allegedly only uses stone tools and sticks as their primary technology) without the benefit of a brief discussion regarding the possibility of deception. (For an elaborate BOOK REVIEWS 81 discussion of the issue, please refer to Headland 1992.) This is not to say that the rest of the book is immediately rendered useless; in fact, the strength of this product is that the information can still provide a clear view of the Lemery cultural sequence, which is included in the second chapter. Here, the geological description of the site is explained, alongside with the cultural layers, making it easier for the readers to determine the sequence of events. The subsequent chapters focus on specific artefacts and their contexts. This includes an elaboration on the analysis of the obsidian flakes, found mostly in the layer that points to an occupation during the Paleolithic times. This also proves that the area was already inhabited at least 10,000 years BP, although the authors believe that this may have been interrupted mainly due to volcanic eruptions, as evidenced by the volcanic tuff that presents itself as a layer during their excavation. The eruption (likely from the nearby Taal Volcano) shows that it continued to affect the site habitation up until the sixteenth century. The next chapter focuses on the stone tools and flakes (that are not obsidian), along with an analysis of animal bones found throughout the excavation. Stones made up of basalt and quarts were used as stone hammers. These findings also point to a seasonal habitation of the site. The animal bones analysed produced some important aspects that must be considered regarding Philippine archaeology. Many of the worked animal bones were found in the pre‐Iron Age deposits as shown in Table 5.5 (Locsin et al. 2008:152‐153), and butchering evidences on the bones were also studied. In the Iron Age, material associated with some of bones of canine bones were found, along with some microliths, stone flakes, and hematite, which was attributed to possible hunting activity as evidenced by ethnographic studies done on the nearby Negritos and their hunting dogs. However, there is also a problematic question of accepting the equine bones that were found at what they termed Horizon IIC, or 4000–8000 BC, which is only one of the two identified as such in the excavation. Although the authors posit the possibility that these may have come from the Arabic equine line in the southern part of the Philippines in Mindanao, the number of the find is also problematic, with only one sample seriously considered found in the “undisturbed” IIC layer. It is hard to make a conclusion regarding the presence of one equine bone sample at such a time‐depth, that this information must be taken with a grain of salt. Chapter 6 elaborated on the burials, including the 29 individuals, the urns in which seven of them were buried in, and also the ceramic grave goods that accompanied the individuals. The burials were all concluded to 82 Pineda be part of the Iron Age, ranging from 190–240 AD (according to C14 tests run on bone samples). The forms of the pottery were broken down, which gave it a stylistic approach, while the decorations were also discussed. The wealth of information that the authors gave the readers included the petrographic analysis of the clay materials, which allowed them to identify the clay source. Indeed, the authors pointed out that while most of the pottery found utilised the nearby clay source, there were some forms of pottery with clay that are not easily available within the site, indicating that these may have been traded specifically from other cultural groups. The authors skim through the questions regarding the afterlife as based on the grave furniture, without actually committing to a particular idea. Instead, they provide some light discussions on Solheim’s Sa Hyunh‐Kalanay theory that embraces a wide scope of Iron Age culture based on the curvilinear designs found in a wide array of location: Vietnam, Indonesia, Taiwan, and in Masbate, Philippines. (I should add that while the authors of the book referred to the 1964 edition, there is now a revised edition that has been published in 2002.) I again reiterate the regrettable choice of the authors not to update their background literature, in which they may have gathered a wider array of pottery found in the local area. These including (but are not limited to) the jar burials found in Barangay Calubcub Segundo, San Juan, Batangas (Salcedo 1979), the evaluation of the jar burials in Ulilang Bundok, Calatagan, Batangas (Dela Torre 2008), and discussion on the status (and not necessarily the wealth of the individual while alive) of the burials in Calatagan, Batangas as excavated by Fox (Barretto 2002; Barretto‐ Tesoro 2008) which, although mostly focused on the extended burials found, are still good starting points for the study of the continuity of the Southern Tagalog region. The status of pottery in the archaeological evidence—which includes discussions on the burial jars and even household items found in various areas in Batangas—was also the topic tackled by the various authors of Pang‐Alay: Ritual Pottery in Ancient Philippines (Valdes 2003a). Invaluable information wherein the cut‐out pattern from the ring‐dish found that puzzled the authors in Lemery is not only limited in Solheim’s Masbate archaeology, but is also present in the cut‐outs of similar presentation dish found in Higantes Island, Negros Occidental (Bautista 2003), and which they compared only to Tenazas’ (1968) earthenware finds in Pila, Laguna. Valdes (2003b) contributed to describing the earthenware pottery forms found in Calatagan, Batangas as excavated by Fox. Although some of these may already encompass the 14th–16th CE materials (well beyond what may be BOOK REVIEWS 83 the Metal Period of the Philippines), these literature may serve as supplement to the findings in Lemery, especially with regards to the practice of form and decoration on the pottery. Moreover, other Iron Age sites have been found over the years, many of which may have also been compared with the artefacts in Lemery, Batangas. There were several instances during my reading of the book where I admittedly had to imagine how the site excavation would have turned out if the method of excavation used the context system. Would it have been possible to find the grave cuts for the extended burial 21, which disturbed burial 17 (urn 3), thus having a clearer conclusion on the possibility of “ritual breaking” of pottery found inside the burial urn? Other instances, such as the equine bone, also have me wondering if there may have been other disturbances that were not easily discovered. Despite this, it is evident that the authors as archaeologists have definitely lived up to the expectations of their field, going all the way to ensure that the needed data be readily available. This book will undoubtedly be well‐received, whether it be from archaeologists, anthropologists, historians, or even local history buffs. It is a much‐awaited addition to the lack of books that focus primarily on the archaeology of a region in the Philippines. The work done in this book took a long time to be produced, which the authors explained in a fairly apologetic way in their foreword, but the end result did not disappoint. The information that this book has added to the archaeological community is not doubted. We all look forward to the next set of study, in which the authors may now tackle the recent literature. Hereon, the archaeology of Lemery, Batangas can only move forward.

References Barretto, G. 2002. Evaluating Status in Philippine Prehistory Through Grave Goods. Masters Thesis. Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City. Barretto‐Tesoro, G. 2008. “Where are the Datu and Catalonan in Early Philippine Societies? Investigating Status in Calatagan.” Philippine Quarterly of Culture and Society 36:74‐102. Bautista, E. R. 2003. “Islas de Higantes: An Enigma,” in Pang‐Alay: Ritual Pottery in Ancient Philippines. Edited by C. Valdes, pp. 47‐53. Makati City: Ayala Museum. Dela Torre, A. 2008. The Secondary Burial in Pottery Vessels at Ulilang Bundok 84 Pineda Site in Calatagan, Batangas: A Case Study. Masters Thesis. University of the Philippines, Diliman. Headland, T. N. (ed). 1992. The Tasaday Controversy: Assessing the Evidence. Washington: American Anthropological Association. Salcedo, C. 1979. Prehistoric Burials in Calubcub Segundo, San Juan, Batangas. Monograph. Manila: National Museum of the Philippines. Solheim, W. G. II. 1964/2002. The Archaeology of Central Philippines: A study Chiefly of the Iron Age and its Relationships (Revised Edition). Diliman, Quezon City: University of the Philippines Press. Tenazas, R. 1968. A Report on the Archaeology of the Locsin‐University of San Carlos Excavation in Pila, Laguna, September 4, 1967‐March 19, 1968. Valdes, Cynthia (ed.). 2003a. Pang‐Alay: Ritual Pottery in Ancient Philippines. Ayala Museum: Makati City. Valdes, C. 2003b. “Fox’s Calatagan and its Earthenware Complexes,” in Pang‐Alay: Ritual Pottery in Ancient Philippines. Edited by C. Valdes, pp. 34‐38. Ayala Museum: Makati City.

Memory and Material Culture Andrew Jones 2007. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Review by Riczar B. Fuentes Graduate student, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines

The main theme of this book focuses on how material forms come into being and the extent to which things are interstitial to the process of social production. Jones argues in this book that the material world offers a vital framework for the formation of collective memory. The concept of memory is used by the author to critique the interpretive archaeologists’ treatment of the artefacts as symbols, and the treatment of the behavioural archaeologists of artefacts as units of information (or memes). He instead argues that the artefacts should be treated as forms of mnemonic that have an impact on the senses. He supported this argument by providing case studies from prehistoric Europe.

Chapter Summaries There are 10 chapters in this book—four were allotted for the BOOK REVIEWS 85 fundamental ideas, five for case studies, and the last one for the conclusion. The book is also divided into two general sections, according to the author. The first part is the treatment of memory in the different disciplines and discourses and discusses ways that memory can be archaeologically studied. Then, through the different case studies, the discussion shifts to the study of the practices of remembrance in different settings, and to the process of how collective modes of remembrance frame the person/ individual. The first chapter is entitled Memory and Material Culture. This focuses on the common notions that memory is like a storehouse or container, and that the representations of the material world are objective. It is held in these common notions that the accuracy and authenticity of knowledge depends upon the clarity of recall. The mind according to the empirical thinkers accumulates information by reading the external environment, including the artefacts in there. It is just like a transaction between the mind and the external world. To counter this, the author proposed that remembrance is a process, which can be made apparent through the continual and dynamic encounter between the person and the material world. It is in this relationship between the people and objects that meaning and memory are produced rather than on the empirical concept of the information transfer theories of remembrance from object to person. He then introduced the term index, which means the reminders or association with something in the past. The second chapter, entitled From Memory to Commemoration, opens the discussion through the concept of fetishism wherein things really do not reflect human intention but instead concentrate human experience and belief. The artefacts help us in remembering. Moreover, it is not just through memory and tradition alone that identity is created but through the routinised practices that incorporates these artefacts. It is more on the actions rather than just on the reading/decoding of the external environment. The people perceive their world because of their actions. The author proposes that the people remember things together (collectively) through social interactions. Then, this collective memory transformed into commemoration which acts as a connective process, through the participation and immersion of the people with other people and with the material culture (objects, places, and texts). The third chapter is entitled People, Time, and Remembrance. The main proposition of this chapter is that history is created by the people and vice‐versa. The material culture is experienced by the people and this 86 Fuentes experience causes the registration of the importance of the artefacts that represents the past. Two explanations were provided on how people perceive “change”. The people can be aware of change, first if they were not able to change but the objects/artefacts change. Second, the people can change but the artefacts remain the same. Both ways illustrate the remembrance of the people of the past, of time, and of change. This also is true with places. This experience of the past is not just embodied in the materiality of the past rather it is on the interaction between the people and things that evokes remembrance. The author referred to this remembrance as material citation, wherein the past is continually referred to and reiterated. With this premise, the reiteration and referring to are directed towards future activities. Of course, the manner of using the objects (or citation of it) is also crucial in the process of remembrance. It is not just on the what but on the how, on how people and things interact. Finally, the chapter highlights the role of the human life span in the measurement of time and change in the material culture, and on how this lifespan influence the concept of change. Chapter Four is entitled Improvising Culture. The author argues that if the concept of citation, explained above, is accepted and made into a premise about the relationship of the past and present activities then we can rethink on how we view culture as a whole. Culture is categorised into open and closed systems. Closed meaning is a substantive entity and open refers to culture as an analytical category. Several approaches in viewing culture are discussed including Ian Hodder’s contextual approach. By re‐ orienting this approach, the author proposed that artefacts are “situated in networks of referentiality” (p. 81). The use and manufacture of artefacts refer to the past and future events across time. Moreover, through repetitive practices, traditions are created. The author also discusses tradition and invention—arguing that these concepts undergo recurrence, which is the process of changing while staying the same. Finally, the improvisation of cultural practices is a continuous process within the constraints of the material residues of the people from the past, and a creative process of production, too. Chapters Five to Nine provide examples and case studies on the application of the concepts of index and citation that were presented in the previous chapters. Chapter Five is entitled Continuous Houses, Perpetual Places—Commemoration and the lives of Neolithic Houses. The three types/ categories of culture during the Neolithic period in Europe were compared using the settlement and burial area features. These three are the Linear BOOK REVIEWS 87 Pottery Culture, Neolithic Scotland, and Neolithic Central Europe. The author related the houses to the perceptions of the humans of their future (and of their past also) through commemoration. The Linear Pottery Culture was more inclined to having things work in the natural cycle of human life wherein they just let their old structures decay naturally. On the other hand, the Neolithic Scotland and Central Europe cultures fast‐ tracked the tempo of the cycles in their culture by using fire (in burning their monuments to make way for new ones). It is proposed here that the durability of the houses is not the only basis why the idea of a house is commemorated rather that is on the repetitive performance of the practices of building and destruction. These are the means of reproducing the concept of a household or community, which then reflects the concept of individuality. The next chapter is Culture, Citation, and Categorisation: Regionality in Late Neolithic Britain. The author presents the case studies of the late Neolithic/Early Bronze Age Britain and Ireland. The Beaker and Groove Wave Cultures, with respect to the pottery tradition during that time, were presented to propose the idea that different citation results in different material culture. This chapter is actually a counter against the simplistic and overarching culture‐historical approach which just catalogues differences and similarities in the material culture. Instead, each region or area must be viewed to having their own distinct historical trajectories related to their expression of distinct cultural practices and which will result in distinct identities. Chapter Seven is entitled Chains of Memory: The Aesthetics of Memory in Bronze Age Britain. The chapter begins by discussing the approach to the relationship of humans and artefacts as being passive. Commonly, the artefacts are studied based on their morphology and decoration. Contrary to this, the people‐artefact interaction should be viewed as a social activity, a dynamic one. The author illustrated the argument by using the examples from Bronze Age Britain. He compared the difference of repetitive activities from that period with the current one. He shows the difference in memory creation, wherein the present uses printing in the citation of the previous cultures while in the past artefacts the ones being used. The former a static process while the latter a dynamic one. Chapter Eight—The Art of Memory: Memory, Inscription, and Place. Several case studies again were presented, which include the slate plaques of prehistoric Iberia and Irish Passage Tombs. The author now shifts his focus to the discussion of inscription as a form of commemorative practice. 88 Fuentes He begins the discussion by citing the text as an externalised storage of memory and human history. Then, goes on to discuss art (in the Great Passage Tombs of the Boyne Valley) as a “technology of remembrance” (p. 188) wherein the structure causes remembrance through its external (visual) and internal (through the images inside the structure) sections. Finally, the author concludes that the inscription of texts and images, in any given time period, are not static. The act of inscription, itself, produces the mnemonic relationship between things and image. Chapter Nine is entitled Tracing the Past: Landscape, Lines, and Places. This chapter again focuses on the concepts of inscription, place, and remembrance. The discussions centre on the open air rock art sites that include the rock arts of Northern Scandinavia/Russia and Prehistoric Britain. In contrast to the previous chapter, the process of citation are different because the former (Iberian slate plaques and passage tombs) are place‐inflected relations or employ citation by using the materials from important places or depositing them in important places. On the other hand, the process of citation of the rock art is through the carving of the images. The act of doing this crystallises the relationship between places and images, and thus, remembrance. The last chapter—Coda—provides the general themes discussed in the book. First, memory must be viewed not as a complex mental structure but a complex process that incorporates the interaction between the mind and the material culture. Furthermore, the social practices, to where the artefacts are engaged, determines how remembrance is experienced and distributed—temporally and spatially. Finally, the author highlights the importance of index in the study of material culture because each event, may it be the production of artefact or building of monuments, is an index related to other events within an indexical field (a network of indexes).

Reactions to Memory and Material Culture The concepts of memory and material culture (culture as a whole for that matter) are not that simple as they are. These concepts are discourses in the different academic disciplines. In this book, the author presented his own argument that memory interacts with the material culture in a complex process. The following are some reactions to the overall structure of the book, and to the presentation of ideas. The book is well‐organised especially with regards to the flow of the ideas being proposed. It is like a step‐by‐step process for the first four BOOK REVIEWS 89 chapters where the author presented the basic/fundamental ideas of his book. First, the idea of index was presented until the author moved to citation and further modified it to material citation. Moreover, there are illustrations to show the gist of each chapter. Those drawings will really guide the reader, especially if she/he likes diagrams, in understanding concepts. Overall, the book ought to be read from the first chapter until the last one because of the cumulative approach in the presentation of the concepts. The main theme of the book is on the interaction of memory and material culture in the formation of the individual’s identity. The treatment of memory is vital in the study of past societies because based on the author’s explanation, citation of previous cultures or any aspect of them creates and reinforces identity through commemoration. Moreover, memory is defined here not just a repository or storehouse of the human experience or observations of his environment but it is viewed as the result of the interaction (using the senses) of humans and things. It is a process, and not just something that is inside the head and viewed like an arranged set of encyclopaedia. Memory is viewed as dependent on the extent of interaction and on the context where the interaction between the people and things occur. Jones is also arguing that material culture must be viewed from a different and deeper perspective. We commonly view the artefacts as just storage or repository of the ideas and aspects of culture of the past societies—parallel with memory. We normally view them as static and externalised. The author counters this and argues that the material culture is a result of social production, a dynamic one. However, we cannot just disregard the fact that these artefacts may seem to be static because these really halted in their functions and in the social processes that these were involved in the past especially when these were deposited and became part of the archaeological record. Moreover, the morphological identification of the artefacts is what we only have especially in dealing with past cultures. The author’s perspective is a very vital one but the rigid identification and categorisation of the artefacts is still the starting point of an archaeological investigation. The inferences will follow if the empirical data is established. Moreover, the material culture is really not static at all because of the concept of formation processes wherein certain agents act on the artefacts after these were discarded. Memory and Material Culture is a good reading structurally and argument‐wise. It is quite a heavy reading especially for those who cannot 90 Fuentes immediately relate to the monuments and artefacts in Europe but still general themes about humans, as a whole, surfaced. The idea of material citation from the past happens all the time and greatly affects the future of a society. In the practical sense, memory is vital in the development of a country in the current time context. Probably further discussions may arise from the fundamentals of this book, especially now that we are dealing with soft copies. Inscriptions may not always be in “hard copy” but may also be in “soft copy”. Finally, the discourse on memory may seem an ideal place for archaeologists because they still have the deepest understanding of the people ‐things interaction across time and space.

Kapwa: The Self in Others Worldviews and Lifestyles of Filipino Culture‐Bearers Katrin De Guia, Ph.D. 2005. Pasig City, Philippines: Anvil Publishing Review by Arch. Ferdinand dela Paz Professor, College of Architecture, University of Sto. Tomas, Manila, Philippines Graduate student, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines Dr. Katrin De Guia’s pioneering research on Filipino Culture‐ Bearers has resulted to this very important book which serves as a significant contribution to the study of Sikolohiyang Pilipino (Filipino Psychology). Though born a German, De Guia has been, in more ways than one a Filipino, having been a resident of the Philippines for almost three decades now as the wife of famous filmmaker Kidlat Tahimik. Her book entitled Kapwa: The Self in the Others explores, as the subtitle reads, the Worldviews and Lifestyles of Filipino Culture‐Bearers. In the process, she provides us with an in‐depth view of Filipino core, surface, and societal values; Sikolohiyang Pilipino in various contexts; the comparative concepts of Personhood vs Personality; ancestral knowledge systems and practices; and most importantly, the Pinoy concept of KAPWA. A word that according De Guia, combines the Self and the Other, is the concept of Kapwa. It is a Tagalog term “widely used when addressing another with the intention of establishing a connection” (p. 8). Such was De Guia’s objective: to establish a connection between and among people in order to link them rather than separate them from each other. The concept essentially looks for “the fundamental characteristics in people—as human beings” (p. 8). In exploring the definitions, interpretations, and manifestations of this Pinoy concept, De Guia hopes that it may, as an BOOK REVIEWS 91 agent for change, be recognised “as a valid contribution to world psychology”. De Guia introduces the Filipino Culture‐Bearers whose unique lifestyles “weave a colourful pattern into the fading fabric of modern Philippine reality” (p. 11). Very interestingly, she has painted a picture of their unpretentious ways as these purveyors of Filipino culture reflect the principles of kapwa. Kapwa: The Self in the Other also provides us with a much better understanding of the value system of Philippine Psychology. The book presents in a diagram form the behaviour patterns and value structure consisting of 15 values falling under three general categories: core, surface, and societal values. Kapwa (shared identity) is at the very core of this value system along with Pakiramdam (shared identity)—(pakikipagkapwatao); and Kagandahang‐loob (shared humanity)—(Pagkamakatao). The Surface Values on the other hand include the confontative surface values of Bahala na (determination), Lakas ng Loob (guts), and Pakikibaka (resistance); the colonial/accommodative surface values of Hiya (propriety/dignity), Utang na loob (gratitude/solidarity) and Pakikisama (companionship/esteem); and the associated behavioural patterns of Biro (joke), Lambing (sweetness), and Tampo (affective disappointment). The associated societal values of Karangalan (dignity), Katarungan (justice) and Kalayaan (freedom) complete the Filipino value system. By possessing these values, we can assess our sense of personhood and consequently, our being Filipinos. It is quite amazing that it should take a foreign‐born resident, such as De Guia, who actually thinks and acts more Filipino than others, to reveal and open our eyes to these values. In detail, De Guia clarifies the true meaning of the confrontative value Bahala Na. Often misinterpreted by Westerns as fatalism, the value of Bahala Na, as suggested by Filipino social scientists combined both fatalism and determinism. As such, it should be construed as “an expression of courage and fortitude, a willingness to face difficulty and a willingness to accept the consequences” (p. 85). With this realisation, De Guia convincingly reiterated Filipino psychologist Alfredo Lagmay’s interpretation that: Bahala Na “is indicative of the improvisational personality of the Filipino people which allows them to cope and thrive even in unstructured, indefinite, unpredictable and stressful situations.” (p. 85) As further illustrated by De Guia, Bahala Na is multifaceted. It 92 dela Paz could also serve as an improvisational skill which “provides a person with the ability to face life’s challenges in a creative way” (p. 85). It may also be taken from the point of view of an existentialist which allows one to accept things and more evidently during tragic situations, the value of Bahala Na enables the Filipino to cope with the toughest times. Case in point: the most devastating typhoon in recent history—typhoon Ondoy, showcased the Filipinos’ resilience to practically the worst disaster that may come our way. Through various media such as film, letters, oral exchanges, and casual encounters, De Guia weaves, in a very intricate way, everything and anything that makes up a Filipino. With the passion of our Filipino Culture‐Bearers, we continue to take our bus ride as we search for our true identity as individuals, as a community, as a society, and as a nation. The book’s glossary at the end actually serves as a “cheat sheet” for all Filipinos to gauge their “I am a Filipino if I possess these” quiz (emphasis mine). Good or bad, the set of values lengthily discussed in this book remains very much a part of our Filipino daily life significantly affecting our decisions and directions. At the back cover of the book is printed, in bold letters, a question that reaffirms the belief of many culture‐bearers as De Guia poses: “Why do some Filipinos like to stay in the Philippines even if they live a simple life and do not earn much?” With fervour, I join De Guia in asking: are you one of us?

Postcolonialism and Local Politics in Southeast Asia Toh Goda 2003. Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers. Review by Donna Arriola MA, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines This work is Toh Goda’s second edited compilation in English also by New Day Publishers, the first being one of the five best books published in the Philippines, having been also translated into Vietnamese. This book focuses local political cultures arising from the process of decolonising Island Southeast Asia. The array of topics under this rather large theme gives its audience the opportunity for a comparative reading, which is one of the main strengths of this book. Goda’s research is mainly on contemporary social anthropology, being a faculty at Kobe University’s Intercultural Communication Division of its Intercutural Relations BOOK REVIEWS 93 Program. He has published ethnographies on the peoples of Northern Luzon, Philippines and has edited other books in Japanese as well on anthropology. From his previous book that came out in 1999 entitled Political culture and ethnicity: an anthropological study in Southeast Asia are some familiar names such as those of Endo, Mabuchi, Barbosa, and Tamaki. He has also worked with Keesing and Blust in the past. The logic behind this choice of topics comes to light when one discovers that the past two books are part of a joint research project on the “Social Anthropology of Local Politics in Southeast Asia” funded by Grant‐in‐Aid for Scientific Research from the Japanese Ministry of Education, Science, Culture and Sports. The contributors are mainly Japanese but with two representatives from Southeast Asia. The sites where the authors conducted their research are Taiwan, Philippines, Indonesia and Malaysia. It is interesting that Taiwan should be included in Southeast Asia, which is conventionally not the case. Although Taiwan is more politically and culturally related to China today, it shares past ties with Southeast Asia, especially in the context of the Ami people which is the subject of one of the contributions. The editor introduces the book first by evaluating the potential of an anthropological approach to the study of local politics of Southeast Asia, an orientation to the theoretical point of view taken by the book as a unifying theme. Here, Goda talks about political anthropology, with neo‐ evolutionism and functional‐structural approach as the two leading directions under this kind of anthropology. He also defined ‘society’ within the realm of political anthropology as closed and segregated, thereby criticising it because it neglects the concepts of contact and diffusion. He then addresses the emergence of interpretation, experiments and phenomenological anthropology, supporting Said’s opposition to dichotomous thinking. Deconstruction is one the key ideas that pervade throughout this collection of anthropological studies. Though these theories are not new as well as his questions relating to colonialism, it is still significant in the sense that Japanese scholars are beginning to translate their work to reach a wider audience. However, this might also be seen as a sort of giving in to the current world order wherein English‐ speaking scholars in the West have a resistance to adapting or relating to other cultures, especially in terms of language. Nonetheless, Goda is committed to opening the eyes of his readers to the postcolonial condition and the modern forces that shape our nation, identity and daily grappling with what he described as our “historical entanglements,” ideas that will 94 Arriola become his preoccupation even in his subsequent publications. The first two chapters discuss the “Adat Perpatih” which is the matrilineal customary law in Negeri Sembilan, Malaysia. Dr. Shamsul discussed the role of “Adat Perpatih” in the ethnicity of postcolonial Malays wherein colonial knowledge has been of much significance. In the next chapter, Dr. Endo takes on a different angle, by looking at land disputes, especially in the case of customary land inheritance to examine the interaction between the colonised and coloniser. Also on Malaysia, Prof. Ishii studied the flexibility, another key theme in this book, and the intricacies of Kadayan identity. Barbosa began the discourse on the Philippines, discussing factors that affect local leadership in the form of barangay captains and officials in Cabucgayan, Leyte. He made suggestions on how national development can be achieved by starting small, while negotiating ‘Waray’ and ‘Bisaya’ identities among others within the context of a barangay. In the fifth chapter, the editor then talks about migrants in Baguio City within the notion of highland cities in Southeast Asia as products of colonisation. The different backgrounds of the immigrants create a diversified way of adapting to their new environment which is what Goda set to thresh out. In the same city, Takaoka questioned the concept of “street children” and the promise of an anthropological study of child welfare. These children have been portrayed negatively and have been depicted as homogenous. In this study, she shows that these children are multi‐ethnic, presenting new ways on how to attend to this growing social problem. In Chapter Seven, Tamaki investigated Aetas in the Southern Tagalog Region, their process of integration while sorting out their identity. He tackles issues such as intermarriage, ‘forced primitivism,’ and subsistence strategies, claiming that they remain hunter‐gatherers as herbal medicine vendors. Professor Nagasaka studied Ilocano migration and how town fiestas such as in the case of Sidiran can be a venue for local politicians to put the balikbayans or people who have returned to their homeland from abroad back into the social fabric of their communities. The choice of the research site is especially apt in that Ilocos has the highest population of migrants. In the same vein as the phenomenon of Filipino migrants, Dr. Ito considered the case of the Indonesian hajj in South Sulawesi. He studied the haji pilgrimages to Mecca, Saudi Arabia of the Bugis people and how this act has evolved and turned into an anti‐consumerist act which is an act of subversion to the post‐colonial world. Lastly, Professor Mabuchi chronicled the life history of a coastal ’Ami under different political BOOK REVIEWS 95 systems. Ultimately, these papers show that coming to terms with the post‐ colonial is an ongoing process and event. Social scientists who are studying Island Southeast Asia would find the topics relevant—issues that are either constantly in the news or things that Southeast Asians encounter in their day‐to‐day lives. It is clear how this kind of work has emerged as a response to an effort to understand the situation that Southeast Asians find themselves in. For scholars engaged in archaeology, the book may not seem to be directly related to the field but there are some salient points and problems that can be found useful. These are the use of postcolonialism to answer archaeological questions, and the practice of archaeology itself as a study on postcolonialism. The latter issue is hinged upon the notion that anthropology and archaeology are colonial enterprises wherein the colonised culture becomes an intellectual commodity. Nonetheless, the stories can also serve as resources for ethnographic analogy in the study of archaeology. Looking through the collected studies, the book was successful in demonstrating that Southeast Asia is still coping with the after effects of colonisation. Though published seven years ago, the book is worth having in every archaeological institution’s library.

Cordillera: Diversity in Culture Change Social Anthropology of Hill People in Northern Luzon, Philippines Toh Goda 2002. Quezon City, Philippines: New Day Publishers

Review by Michael Armand P. Canilao, MA Lecturer, Department of Sociology and Anthropology, Ateneo de Manila University Lecturer, Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philippines, Diliman This work by Toh Goda belongs to an increasing body of academic work that engages the “oriental stagnation hypothesis,” which assumes the static social, economic, and cognitive dimensions of Southeast Asia prior to intervention/colonisation by the West. Goda presents the results of his longitudinal ethnographic fieldwork among the Bontok and Ifugao in the Cordillera region in northern Luzon which span almost three decades. He believes his Bontok and Ifugao data can demonstrate that pre‐Contact societies in Southeast Asia were not “cold” or unchanged, but were rather “warm”—constantly entangled in a flux of culture change. 96 Canilao Goda argues that cultural diversity among the neighbouring Cordillera groups (notably the Ifugao, Bontok, Ibaloi, Kankanaey, Kalinga, and others) is attributed to diachronic culture‐change. This he establishes through his data on the divergence of neighbouring Bontok and Ifugao kinship systems and its inheritance rules coupled with a peek into the shift in the internal religious institutions of the latter. These data sets serve as his anchor point as he goes down deeper in time to retrace/reconstruct pre‐ Contact culture transformations undergone by the Bontok and the Ifugao. He seeks to unravel the latent structure‐functions embedded in both the Bontok and Ifugao kinship systems and the functions as well in the internal ‐to‐Ifugao shift in religious institutions. Perhaps Cordillera region archaeological data can further confirm Goda’s arguments if a reprinted edition is already in press. Diachronic methodologies/modes of investigation typical of what Goda attempts can benefit from the support of archaeological evidence. Archaeology should be tapped by social/cultural anthropologists in trying to explain culture change in the past. As archaeologists we find fulfillment when we begin to understand why culture changed in the past? The work of Stephen Acabado (2009) in Ifugao and my own work in Benguet (2008) may supplement Goda’s work on diversity in culture change among the different ethnolinguistic groups in the Cordilleras. It is essential for us to know the background of the author ergo his area of expertise to understand the context of the writing of the book,. Toh Goda is a Japanese professor of social/cultural anthropology in Kobe University in Japan. He earned his doctoral degree in social anthropology from Tokyo Metropolitan University. Toh Goda is an alumnus of the Department of Anthropology in the University of the Philippines, Diliman. He began his Cordillera fieldwork in 1974, studying the different ethnolinguistic groups in the area with a particular focus on the Bontok and Ifugao. He received various grants from Japan agencies which allowed him to sustain his longitudinal research. Goda’s framework takes root in the American school of functionalism in cultural anthropology, wherein the dynamics between culture‐change and history take centre stage. The American functionalist school differs from the British functionalist school in that the former treats culture‐structure as processual while the latter treats it as static (in a “Saussurean” mode). The latter is often critiqued to be a brainchild of colonialist ideology (British). Hence Goda’s basic questions are: do “primitive societies” (in Southeast Asia) have no ability to change their BOOK REVIEWS 97 own society without European influences or enlightenment by colonial control? Is the “oriental stagnation” a fatal social defect particularly in Southeast Asia? His conclusion is that these societies (he calls “traditions”) are flexible and have the power to change their systems as they negotiate through the ever‐changing cultural situations. Goda tries to prove group diversity through culture change in the Cordilleras by method of deduction from the observed structural differences in the kinship systems of the Bontok and Ifugao. He basically identified the latent functions of these systems coupled with its inheritance/property rules and how it relates to the maintenance or transformation of social structure in the past. Bontok society follows a parallel or bilineal system wherein the parallel family becomes the main social‐economic unit. Consanguineal ties take priority over affinal ties in terms of rights and duties over communal lands and personal property. This function(s) to prevent class differentiation in Bontok society—to avoid the dissection of Bontok society into a broad spectrum of social strata with the big landlords on one end and the tenant farmers on the opposite end. The Bontok property system ensures that marriage will not be the used for wealth accumulation in one family, as in the Ifugao case. Just southeast of Bontok land, the Ifugao is seen to follow an ambilineal line with a rule in ranked bilateral primogeniture. The eldest child inherits the most part of his/her parents’ properties thus making the family the main social‐economic unit. The function of the Ifugao kinship system is to provide the avenue for couples to increase their property through the marriage of eldest sons and daughters. As a result, a very distinct kadangyan (elite) and nawotwot (peasant) class is put into place. Goda’s functionalist analysis of the Ifugao kinship structure seem sound, he understates that the genealogical reckoning of the Ifugao kadangyan is very vivid/accurate due to the fact that they have to justify possession of properties by keeping tab/track of its transfer through the generations. Goda also tried to identify the function of the internal‐to‐Ifugao shift from funi belief to mumbaki (shaman) sorcery with ritual bone washing. The former is seen in peasant Ifugao peripheries while the latter is more prevalent in the urban Ifugao centres. Funi is the belief that one must avoid envy and jealousy from neighbours in Ifugao society. The function of funi is to maintain a scattered settlement pattern among the peasants in the peripheral areas of Ifugao. It further functions to prevent 98 Canilao such communities from getting integrated into larger stratified communities. The belief in mumbaki sorcery and ritual bone washing in the urban Ifugao centres; on the other hand, function(s) to increase the social‐ ritual status of the kadangyans to go together with the increase in their hereditary property. The mumbaki is the medium for communicating to the spirits of the dead relatives who have bequeathed the property. This divergence in religious institutions is set in motion by the increase in the wealth of the kadangyans. Goda believes that diversity by culture change was already taking place among the Cordillera groups even before the period of western contact. “Primitive society” or “tradition” is flexible and has a power to change their systems as they negotiate through the ever changing social‐ cultural situations. The comparative kinship system data of the Bontok and Ifugao may seem to account for diachronic culture change but can be rendered even more powerful if (or when) complimented with recent archaeological data. Stephen Acabado determined the antiquity of the Ifugao mountain terraces to be 16th century or shortly after the Spanish Contact period through a Bayesian approach (see Acabado 2009). Rapid agricultural intensification followed soon after the first mountain terraces were constructed. This led to the rise of the kadangyan class. The kadangyans sought to further increase their property holdings in the barely two centuries that followed, just before a more permanent western presence was established in the area in the 19th century. By that time, a clear stratification in Ifugao society was already evident. Similarly, my work in Benguet (southwestern Cordillera) has also demonstrated how the Ibaloi ethnolinguistic group has undergone three major socio‐cultural changes/shifts: from gold mining in the 14th to 15th century to cattle herding in the 16th to 18th centuries, and finally to wet‐rice, mountain terrace agriculture from the 19th century up to the present (this lasting influence attributed to Ifugao influence from the east) (see Canilao 2008). This “agricultural” turn in the 19th century has similarly resulted to the solidification of an Ibaloi social stratification with the wealthy/landed baknangs on top and the abiteg on the lower end. Goda is a social/cultural anthropologist trained to investigate/ interpret contemporaneous culture change. In dealing with culture change in the past; however, he should also enlist the aid of the other general field (four fields) of anthropology—archaeology. BOOK REVIEWS 99 References Acabado, S. 2009. A Bayesian Approach to Dating Agricultural Terraces: A Case from the Philippines. Antiquity 83:801‐814. Canilao, M. A. P. 2008. Understanding the Peopling of Benguet Through Archaeology, Ethnohistory, and Oral Tradition. Masters Thesis. Archaeological Studies Program, University of the Philppines Diliman. Quezon City.

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