My Projects

Goodwill Hunting in Malasimbo

The day was Thursday. As the sun started to embrace the bluish ocean being ripped in half by the pointed bow of the boat that I rode to Malasimbo, the reflections that came from the eastern side looked more like the crystal-like scale of a gigantic snake making its transit along the stretch of the boundless horizon. It was my first time to visit this place. And the moment I landed my feet on the damp soil of Galera, my camera was like a conqueror who wanted to pacify the land. There was a fascination. I was mystified.

My knowledge of the province of Mindoro was more of an academic endeavor. I was in college when my History of Philippine Art Class under Art Theory discussed extensively the indigenous group, which is the Mangyan. I was fascinated with their unique culture, especially one of their native scripts, which is the hanunoo. History proves that any group of people that has their language, divorced from any other languages, defines their sophisticated and advanced culture as well as their high level of rationality. Originally inhabited by the secluded region of the mountains of Mindoro, a large population of them managed to come down and merge with lowland people, adapting the ways of life that, for thousands of years, were alien to them.

Going to the Malasimbo Festival is not as cheap and easy as it may seem. It is flocked by those who have disposable resources that can fund their travel in and out of the island of Oriental Mindoro.

On the foothills of Malasimbo, I met a pure-blooded Mangyan named Leonardo Mangaba. Mangaba introduced me to the Iraya Community, one of the types of Mangyans who seem to live in a peaceful and prolific environment. Their houses are built along the slopes in uniform arrangements, and a large percentage of their source of livelihood comes from handicraft-making, where the material being used is native to them, which is the nito. According to the elders, it was Jaime Zobel De Ayala who instigated the building of nipa huts for the community and gave them livelihood projects through the Ayala Foundation. The way the whole system is organized can be a standard scheme for all the Indigenous groups in the country, as the Iraya community was built through advocacy, which is purely beneficial to these people. I was astounded by the compassion of certain people and their hard-core selves

Leonardo overlooks the stretch of Oriental Mindoro which he believes is an original land of his forefathers.

“My merging with the community by spending a day gave me a thorough understanding of how the Mangyans understand life. Their diaspora from the mountain is a result of an economic and social dilemma where living on the low land became much more convenient.”

By merging with the community by spending a day gave me a thorough understanding of how the Mangyans understand life. Their diaspora from the mountain is a result of an economic and social dilemma where living on the low land became much more convenient.

On Friday night,  I attended the Malasimbo Festival. The festival is a fusion of all things contemporary, from visual arts to performance art and music. Entering the vicinity was very surreal.

A German tourist named Ana is dazzled by the sculptures of the Malasimbo Festival. Installations like this are scattered all throughout the place created by renowned contemporary visual artists.

“I accidentally lost my IPAD. Mangaba, in no time, scourged our previous paths and was able to find it several meters away. I even felt relieved when he said, “Local people have been good to us. I am just paying back all the goodness.”

The Malasimbo Festival is an annual festival being held at Ponderosa, Baclayan, Oriental Mindoro—at the foothills of Mt. Malasimbo, overlooking Puerto Galera, which is a private property owned by Hubert D’Aboville, a Frenchman who has been settled in the Philippines since the 1970s. He and his daughter Olivia, in collaboration with Olivia’s partner Miro Grgic, a Croatian-born Australian sound engineer, conceptualized the festival, which, roughly in its 4th year, is considered one of the highly anticipated of Asia’s music and art festivals. Started in 2011 and attended by a small audience of more than 1000, the proceeding years doubled the attendees with greater sets of prominent local and international acts in the music scene. More than 3,000 people were believed to have smothered the 5-day event recently, with ticket prices ranging from 500 pesos for a night entrance up to 6,600 for a 3-day pass, which culminated on Saturday night.

Leonardo Mangaba producing the melody of his way through the sound of a leaf.

I developed a friendship with Mangaba, who helped me trek the Malasimbo. Reaching its peak is cathartic. My respect for this Mangyan became even greater when, during the continuous ascending and descending of the mountain slopes, I accidentally lost my IPAD. Mangaba, in no time, scourged our previous paths and was able to find it several meters away. I even felt relieved when he said, “Local people have been good to us. I am just paying back all the goodness.”

Leonardo inscribes his sentiment through his own native Iraya Language.

Back in the hotel, I started to pack my things up to prepare to leave the next day. El Canonero served me unforgettable good food on my last day. 

At the onset of dawn, while having my last view of the beach, I saw shadows of Mangaba coming towards me with the usual grin on his face. With a sincere grip on my hand, he bid farewell. 

Perhaps the best thing in life is discovering things that speak to humanity and selflessness. giving in and giving out. The people behind the building of Mangyan communities and the person who guided me to experience Malasimbo and even found my lost iPad are two of the greatest people on earth. And this is one of the greatest photo assignments I have ever had.