Buried Hope

Published in the Youngblood section of the November 22, 2005 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer.

Who wouldn't want to stumble upon a chest filled with gold bars and precious jewels? With such riches, you can go to the United States, have all the blondes you desire and spite those who spited you before.

I had the same dream several years ago. I wanted to search for a buried treasure, guided by a coded map and all. With the money from the loot, I then imagined, I would go to the States, collect all the Marvel comic books I could get my hands on and eat Pringles all day.

I knew, however, that for every Jim Hawkins of Treasure Island, there's a Long John Silver and a great deal of trouble and adversities. I knew, too, that not all treasures are buried and neither do they necessarily come in the form of gold bars.

But since I could not begin my quest, I contented myself with the fortune-hunting stories of my uncles and their friends. Their adventures were surely not as suspenseful or glamorous as those in books and movies and, worse, they never ended happily, but hearing the stories straight from the horse's mouth was quite exciting.

Aside from farming, treasure hunting is the occupation of a few of my uncles. While waiting for the next harvest, they leave the cornfield and dig in odd places in the provinces of Sultan Kudarat and Cotabato.

One tale I will never forget was about how a babaylan (fortune teller-cum-faith healer) led them through a series of futile searches. The old man claimed that the figurine he was keeping, which resembled the image of Sto. Niño, could point the location of the buried treasure. Off my uncles would go to the site and then they would dig and dig without finding any treasure. Whenever they would find water table or the hole collapsed, the babaylan would say they were being blocked by malevolent spirits. My uncles would then go looking for black chickens to be offered to the spirits, and then start digging in another place the babaylan had identified for them. The search dragged on for several years and was only stopped when the old man died.

My uncles' experiences do seem amusing and deserving of derision. But the hunters' misfortune actually calls for some reflection.

The plight of corn growers is worse than that of the ditch digger's in the story. The digger digs a ditch to earn money to buy food so he would have the strength to dig a ditch. Farmers sow hybrid seeds, use synthetic fertilizers and sell their produce so they can buy food and pest-resistant seeds. While the cost of agricultural supplies rises by several pesos per milligram, the price of corn increases by a few centavos per kilogram. To arrest their slide deeper into poverty, those who till the soil like my uncles will do anything and follow anyone who promises great wealth, even if the scheme seems to be too good to be true.

Treasure hunters once ransacked a cave, damaging a potential eco-tourism destination in the process. When I went inside the cave about 12 years ago, the hunters had chipped off a wall a figure of a naked woman, which might have been an archaeological artifact. Now it's dangerous to go inside the cave because dynamite used by hunters have caused large cracks to form in the mouth and in the roof of the cave. My cousins told me that the stalactites, which took thousands of years to form, have also been destroyed. (Similar problems brought about by treasure hunters threaten the reservation area in Mt. Matutum in South Cotabato.)

It's easy to hate the hunters if you're the type who subscribes to National Geographic and travels to Unesco World Heritage Sites to unwind every summer. You can't empathize with them if you don't have to worry about rats and El Niño destroying your livelihood and you have the leisure to appreciate culture and the arts.

But I refuse to judge the hunters. The holes they dug may be proof of their indolence and greed, but those same holes are also telltale signs of neglect and abuse by those who hold power.

In almost all rural communities of Mindanao I've been to, treasure hunting is commonplace. People are lured into looking for the treasure of Yamashita as easily as betting on "last two," a very popular but illegal numbers game. Many Filipinos would rather stake their future on an illegal activity than trust their leaders to bring about progress in their lives.

If you're a public official born to a family of business tycoons or owners of wide tracks of land, the highest value instilled in you is to bring in the dough and maintain your social status. Thus you would propose or implement laws that benefit you most and you would do everything to stay in power. If you work in the government and got your position through nepotism or bribery, your priority would naturally be to pay back those who helped you or recover your expenses. It is clear from what's happening around us, that public service has taken a back seat retaining power and cutting deals. As long as our form of government continues to be an aristocracy masquerading as a democracy, the masses will remain mired in poverty.

If you're an ordinary Filipino, the best way—or, it seems to be the only way—to secure a better future for yourself is by finding work overseas. If you can't leave, then you must get used to sleeping on an empty stomach and put all your hopes in treasure hunting. You dream not just once but for the rest of your life about finding that hidden chest filled with gold and jewelry so you can go to the States and leave your wretched existence.