FEATURE
A Wedding Gift to (and from) Batanes
By Pennie Azarcon dela Cruz
Philippine Daily Inquirer
First Posted 05:59:00 06/29/2008
MANILA, Philippines - It makes for a wondrous wedding gift, this hand-hewn chapel in Tukon, Batanes with its stained glass windows, a ceiling hand-painted with the patron saints of the province’s six municipalities, pews of recycled hardwood, and spectacular views of both the South China Sea and the Pacific from wherever one is seated.
But no, demurs former Batanes representative Florencio (Butch) Abad who spearheaded the building of the still unfinished chapel; it was not his wedding present to eldest daughter Julia, whose May 3 wedding to Andrew Parker officially opened the place for public use.
The chapel, Abad clarifies, is dedicated to his parents whose main desire when they were living was to be able to walk to the nearest chapel or church. The couple is now buried in the Abad pastureland in Tukon, the Ivatan term for mountain.
The structure is also a convenient place of worship for the Ivatans of Tukon, he adds. “The Basco Cathedral is about three kilometers from Tukon, too far to walk since there is no public transport around, and the rains can get heavy during bad weather,” explains this former Agrarian Reform secretary. Aside from holding regular Masses, the place has also been designed as a venue for socio-cultural activities, like retreats, performances and community meetings, he adds of this fifth chapel that he helped build in small isolated communities in Batanes.
Taking care of the needs of Batanes seems to be a family tradition for the Abads, who have held the reins of public office since the 1930s when a maternal grandfather became governor. Another uncle-in-law, Juan Agudo, became governor during the Japanese occupation and was publicly beheaded for supporting the resistance movement. Abad’s parents became Batanes representatives in the ’50s and ’60s, while his wife Henedina ran and won the same office in 2004. The only time the Abads were out of politics was during the martial law years when the Liberal Party, to which Abad’s parents belong, boycotted all the Marcos elections, and recently, when Abad and his wife joined the clamor for Arroyo’s resignation in the midst of the Garci election scandal as part of the Hyatt 10.
The opposition stance is not surprising; the younger Abad couple were involved in “the parliament of the streets” during martial law and spent some time in detention. Compared to those travails, it was easy enough to forego public office in the 2007 elections, says Abad. “We decided not to ran again to save the province from being denied development assistance by the (Arroyo) government, which is so vital for a small and poor province like Batanes.”
Growing up in a political clan also meant taking care of one’s constituents wherever they were. Recalls Abad: “Since Batanes was far and the people were poor, the Ivatans (natives of Batanes) considered our house in Manila as a halfway house. Those who didn’t have a place to stay or were too poor to afford boarding houses as students found our home a welcoming refuge. It was not unusual for us brothers and sisters to be roused from sleep to give up our beds for Batanes folk who had to be accommodated for the night or the weekend.”
At one point, he adds, “I recall counting 85 people living in our house! Para kaming isang barangay. Once, when there was a rice shortage and rice was being rationed according to the number of people living in one roof, the guy from the NARIC (rice agency) did not believe we were that many until he came to the house.”
But the experience helped develop in him compassion, tolerance and understanding, says this former Education secretary, and instilled in him “a great sense of concern and responsibility for the province.” It was a two-way process, it turns out. “Many of those who were staying with us as students eventually became teachers and officials in the province and proved very helpful during my campaigns,” he notes.
Under his watch, Batanes became a topnotcher in the United Nations’ Human Development Index in terms of livelihood, education, health and sanitation, quite a leap from being among the country’s 20 poorest provinces, says Abad of his biggest contribution to this remote place. He is particularly proud of Batanes shedding its image “from being a poor, isolated and typhoon-ravaged province, to a progressive, highly admired tourism destination, known for its beauty and breathtaking landscapes and seascapes, the integrity of its environment, the richness of its heritage and the strength of its social institutions.”
A legislation he authored in 2001 also made the whole province a protected area that is now being inscribed in UNESCO’s World Heritage List, he adds.
Not that the credit for transforming Batanes belongs solely to him, Abad hastens to add. As always in Batanes, everything is a community effort. The Tukon chapel is the best example of this communal spirit. “The Ivatans contributed by providing the sand, gravel and boulders for the construction, apart from their free labor (Yaru, in Ivatan). Friends and family provided funds for the stained glass windows, the doors and windows, while others agreed to sponsor a pew each for P5,000. Artist friends also contributed: Lito Baldemor carved the crucifix hanging by the altar, as well as the Stations of the Cross; Cheloy Dans provided young artists with materials and advice in painting the mural by the altar, while architects Joven Ignacio and Tina Turralba helped with the design.
Meanwhile, young Ivatan artists, all scholars of The Pacita Abad Center for the Arts, did the paintings of the patron saints installed in the ceiling, with guidance from visiting Fulbright scholar Margarita Garcia. Abad’s contribution includes the chapel’s recycled hardwood from second-hand lumberyards as well as designing the pews, the lectern, the spiral staircase going to the choir loft, the altar table, the windows and doors and the trellises around the chapel.
What he is most proud of, says this self-styled furniture maker, is the fact that the Tukon chapel was built by local craftsmen, as well as by very skilled masons, carpenters, painters and electricians from the squatter area of Payatas in Quezon City, many of whom have made Batanes their new home, having married here. Says Abad: “From being squatters, my craftsmen have become artists in their own right. This crew has been working with me for more than 15 years. Our collaboration started with the construction of my house in Quezon City in 1990, then our family home in Tukon in 1995, then Pacita’s studio, the Fundacion Pacita, and now the chapel. We will continue tapping their expertise in the restoration of Ivatan vernacular houses in collaboration with the Batanes Heritage Foundation, Inc.”
Although everything turned out well at the wedding in the chapel on the hill, the father of the bride admits that the thought initially terrified him. “Truth to tell, it was Julia’s idea and we were reluctant, thinking it was going to be a logistical nightmare to fly, feed, house and entertain more than a hundred guests from Manila and abroad, not to mention that being politicians, we had to be careful to invite all relatives, friends and political leaders lest we miss some and cause bad feelings all around.”
Eventually, they relented. “Julia was our eldest (of four kids) and this was the first wedding in the family. It was also a good time for an Abad-Barsana family reunion, the last one being 25 years ago, in December 1983,” says Abad.
The wedding, they also realized, would accelerate the conversion of his sister Pacita’s studio nearby into a tourism destination. Before she died, the internationally acclaimed trapunto artist wanted her studio to become a lodge where guests, preferably artists, photography hobbyists, nature lovers, yoga enthusiasts and similar groups could stay, reveals Abad. “The family thought it was a good idea for the income generated from the facility to be used to support young Ivatan artists and the heritage restoration projects.” The chapel, meanwhile, would start charging fees for weddings for its upkeep.
All these efforts are bound to attract more tourists to this pristine isles, a prospect that could turn Batanes into another overdeveloped Boracay. But Abad isn’t too worried: “Fortunately, there are certain factors that inhibit too many visitors: one is the prohibitive fare—P13,000 roundtrip! The other is the weather, or the many myths about it, like Batanes being frequently hit by typhoons and therefore you can get stranded for weeks, which is no longer the case with at least three airlines servicing the islands.”
Still, he adds, in anticipation of a surge in tourist arrivals, the local government and private sectors in Batanes are promoting a sustainable and responsible tourism industry, one that doesn’t destroy local culture and the environment nor displace local residents. “This implies a relationship between the residents and tourists that is mutually beneficial. For the locals, it is an occasion for visitors to get to know and appreciate Batanes while offering them more regular sources of livelihood. For the tourists, it’s an opportunity to enrich their lives by being introduced to a unique culture, apart from discovering a sanctuary where they can blissfully do nothing but experience the environment in its purest state.”
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