Post-grad adventures

Andrew Agunod Jr.
Youngblood
Philippine Daily Inquirer

March 22, 2007

MANILA, Philippines -- Now that graduation is near and a new batch of fresh graduates is about to try its luck in the country’s job market, let me share my almost-yearlong, post-graduation experience looking for a job.


My last months in the University of the Philippines (UP) were very tense: all kinds of final reports, a thesis, org activities, not to mention the series of exams that I had to go through before acquiring that precious UP diploma -- my passport to the professional world. I survived all of those and even graduated with honors -- something I was really proud of and which gave me the belief that I was among the “highly in demand” graduates in the country. But I was wrong!


Job offers didn’t come on silver platters. My "kayabangan" -- which, by the way, is typical of some students of the premiere state university -- got the better of me. I didn’t go “prospecting” for a job months before graduation. I held on to the belief and confidence that companies would be competing among themselves to hire me once they knew I was a UP graduate. But to my dismay, I found out that the State University seemed to ring a bell no more.


In fairness -- to me and to my alma mater -- my unemployment is more of a “product” of circumstances than of incompetence. (Here goes the kayabangan again.) The one and only job I applied for (way back in April last year yet) was in a research institute in UP Manila. I expected to be immediately hired because I thought my prospective bosses would have no reason to doubt about my competence, plus “potentials.” After all, I was a UP graduate.


But UP, as any other government institution, is a multi-layered bureaucracy. I was summoned to a first interview in June. The second took place the following month. But then my appointment had to be approved by the UP president, but it was not expected to come soon. Months later, maybe. When exactly, even the people processing my documents could not be certain. Applicants accepted in May get to start working only in the following December, I found out.


So in July, I considered another job elsewhere, albeit alien to the course I finished. Molecular biology and biotechnology graduates in the Philippines (there are only around 30 graduates each year and only from UP) usually end up in the academe (either teaching or doing research), or in medical schools and graduate schools here and abroad. Since I didn’t like to teach and didn’t have plans of studying again (still got to earn!) and I did not want to go to medical school either (I have had enough of headaches!), my only option was to go into research. But pursuing such a career in a Third World country is not at all financially rewarding—not to mention the perpetual process of applying for the job (certificate of eligibility, medical exams, computer exams, two month-long interviews; by the time you start working, your first salary is not even enough to cover all that you spent for all these and your bills!). Thus, I didn’t have any choice but to “cross into another field” and see what was in store for me in the corporate world.


No, it’s not that I’m leaving science mainly because of money. Molecular biology was very exciting for me. I never thought that I would be doing the same stuff scientists did in TV shows I watched when I was a kid. Biotechnology, cloning and immunology, PCR and other interesting topics: Only a privileged few -- in a country like ours -- are given the chance to learn these in lectures and experiments that often involve very expensive gadgets and reagents. I also had excellent company around: the best professors and the brightest “block mates” (we have four summa cum laude awardees in our batch!). Taking the course taught me discipline.


But back in high school, economics was my most favorite subject; science came only second. But my nerdy habit of watching Discovery Channel and National Geographic, enhanced my penchant for science -- specifically molecular biology and medicine -- while my interest in things that had to do with business and economics eventually fizzled out in the face of an exciting scientific revolution that sees no end until now.


Hence, my decision to abandon my dream of becoming a scientist somehow seeks to fulfill a “long-lost” wish. Nevertheless, I still highly admire Filipino scientists sacrificing so much to advance science and research in the country despite tremendous odds. Indeed, to be competitive, the Philippines needs a robust R & D program. Yet, Filipino scientists and researchers, many of whom are known for their significant contribution to science, remain the most underpaid professionals in the country. I met many of them in UP but, aware as I am of the fact that they are given so little recognition, if at all, by a society too preoccupied with other concerns (valid or not), I can’t help feeling sorry for them. I hope that the government and the Filipino people will soon realize their value and importance, otherwise more and more Filipino talents, ingenuity, resources, (including opportunities to excel in the international arena) will be lost.


My decision to “change course” brought me to an entirely different world. After several interviews, I finally was accepted as a “management trainee” for a bank. The job was great! It was like getting paid high for studying accounting (how I love this subject!), general banking laws, personnel supervision and bank products and services. However, in the middle of my training, I realized that the kind of tasks I was being groomed for -- operations and branch work -- was not to my liking. So I quit. My decision did not mean that I didn’t like banking or that I hated routine tasks. I resigned because I believed that something else out there is the right job for me.


Hence, I’m now actively looking for a new job. Every week, I get a call from different companies for an interview. And because of this my friends have taken to calling me a professional interviewee. Indeed, at this point, with all the good and bad experiences I have had, I could, perhaps, write a long essay on the “do’s and dont’s in job interviews -- for applicants, of course.


Looking back at these experiences is quite stressful. While my batch mates are already working, I’m still going through interviews. But I have not despaired, I believe that I will have my job very soon. For now, at least, I’m learning how to be patient, optimistic and to make good use of my time.


Congratulations to the graduates of 2007 and I wish you all the best!


Andrew Agunod Jr., 21, is a graduate of molecular biology and biotechnology from University of the Philippines, Diliman.

Summer Kick-off: Conquering Pico de Loro

Standing 664 meters above sea level, Pico de Loro is the highest mountain in Cavite. It may not be as mighty as Mt. Apo, as mystical as Mt. Banahaw, or as legendary as Mt. Makiling, but Pico de Loro harbors an adventure that truly delights seasoned mountaineers and first-timers alike.

Pico de Loro means Parrot's Peak. It got its name from the peculiar rock structure found very near its summit. Commonly called the rock, the beak, the head, or the totem, the four- to five-storey high structure offers an exhilarating experience for those who dare conquer their fears by climbing its top. And I'm proud to say that I'm among those few who made it to the top.

Of course I must admit that it wasn't a breeze for me, especially that I have fear of heights and am not at all an expert rock climber. Well, I wanted to take sports climbing as my PE in UP but, unfortunately, I always ran out of slots. Nonetheless, climbing an actual rock without prior training proved to be a more exciting experience.

It was a sunny Sunday morning when I, together with some friends, drove towards the mountainous region of Ternate in Cavite where the Pico de Loro is located. Along the way and very near the starting point of the trek, we passed by the famed and utterly mysterious Magnetic Road, which is part of the highway that traverses the hilly terrain of Ternate. Motorists are greeted by the dilapidated road sign saying "Magnetic Road: Accident Prone Area" or something to that effect. Exactly why or how the phenomenon occurs I don't know, but I'm critical about it's being magnetic. Maybe it's just some kind of illusion. But interestingly enough, while on the downhill portion of the magnetic road, we stopped our engine and found our vehicle moving uphill. It was weird, and totally violated the law of gravity. But I still doubt the existing rumors unless I'll hear scientists explaining to me the cause of such a phenomenon.

Trekking Pico de Loro lasts for about, on the average, three hours. We started hiking at 10 a.m. after parking our vehicle just beside the mothballed and deserted DENR office. The area is a national park and is thus a protected environment. But the sorry state of the office tells visitors that the government might not be at all serious with the implementation. Worse, I even heard sounds of chain saws echoing in the forest when I was at the mountain's peak.

The beginning of the trail led the group to a patch of land under a reforestation project. It was nice to know that some groups, including students from La Salle, are aiming to plant a million trees in the area. My concern though is that they should plant trees endemic to the area like the narra, apitong, and yakal for doing so would restore the original forest and thus make it conducive for the original flora and fauna.

During the first hour we skirted the mountain, passing through sloping hills, patches of farm lands, dirt roads, horses that got in the way (beware of getting behind them: their kicks are fatal), dogs that bark so loud (but don't bite at all), and the base camp where we were suppose to pay our registration (I was asking, What for? I suppose it's for the trail upkeep. I do hope they use the contribution justly) and which signaled the start of the uphill trail.


As the group went along, we encountered familiar sightings common to other mountains that we've climbed before. There were long, thin, crawling bamboo branches (or twigs? I'm not sure though with the term since bamboos are grasses) that dangles along the path reminescent of the forest of Mt. Maculot where I was lost last year. Then there where towering yet surprisingly slim trees trying to compete with other trees for sunlight, hence forming a green canopy that leave the forest floor cool and dark. Butterflies abound, though not the brightly colored ones excellent for butterfly farm business. We also saw beautiful and unique flowers which, to science-oriented people like me, may definitely find delight.


The mountain's peak is covered by knee-high grass that turns golden brown during summer. Hence, our final ascent was like walking through an aisle - albeit abruptly inclining - laid out with a golden carpet. Along the way we encountered fellow mountaineers on their way down and sliding - and I mean literally - on the grass-covered slope. And that, I realized, proved a real treat after and hour or so marveling at nature's beauty at the peak.


Upon reaching the peak, we were rewarded with a marvelous 360-degree panorama of the surrounding terrain, including a breath-taking view of the mouth of Manila Bay and that of the fine beaches of the protruding peninsulas of the Cavite coast line (Puerto Azul looked like stones throw away from the peak).


But that was not all for the peak was but mere appetizer for the utterly adventurous trekker. The rock totem, standing at the edge of the ravine a few meters down the peak on the other side of the mountain, was the ultimate prize. At first, most of us harbored hesitation and fears of climbing it for one wrong step was enough to send us hundreds of meters down the thick forest - and that would definitely be a disaster!

However, courage conquered our fear and teamwork brought us all to the top. For my part, the thought that others could make it propelled me to muster all the strength and daring I had to climb as well.


Luckily, we didn't have to go straight up the totem as seen from the peak for there was an easier way to get on top through its other side - and I mean easy by the standards of an experienced climber. I will no longer talk further about how I got to the top; all I can say is that it took me some time and some patience on the part of my companions.

But what's worth telling is that I made it to the top!

Lovely Lucban

The Trip to Lucban

It was the 11th of March 2006 at around 3:45 in the morning. I, together with a friend, was set and very excited to start our adventure trip to Lucban, a beautiful town in the province of Quezon. We sleepily clambered up a bus at one of the bus terminals in Cubao. Since it was still wee hours of the morning and that the travel was a bit long, we decided to sleep all throughout the travel and recover many lost hours of sleep (the day was after my final finals week in UP).

After a two-hour travel, we were finally in Lucban. Climbing down the bus, we were welcomed by the cool fresh breeze that I rarely, or never, experienced in Manila. Lucban is quietly settled at the foot of the grand Mt. Banahaw which is towering 1, 875 meters above sea level. Lucban is situated at the northwestern border of Quezon Province with geographical coordinates of 12º33' East longitude and 14º7' North latitude. Lying on a slope Northeast of Mt. Banahaw, the town stands at an elevation of 1, 500 feet above sea level.

Lucban is 160 kilometers from Metro Manila via Lucena, the provincial capital of Quezon and 133 kilometers or roughly three-and-a-half hour bus ride via Sta. Cruz-Pagsanjan route and can easily be reached by public transportation.





Lucban, Pahiyas, Longganisa, and the Buntal Hat

Lucban is very famous for its annual Pahiyas festival in honor of their patron Saint Isidore the farmer. It is also well known for the tasty Lucban longganisa which is sold at almost every street in the town. Little did i know that the known has more to boast for. It's people are exceptionally warm, the environment is extraordinarily clean, and another particular tradition continues to thrive: the buntal hat weaving. And with that I marveled at how these people preserve their tradition inspite the problems the modern world poses.

Tracking buntal hat weavers in Lucban was not difficult. There were many traditional shops in the town where one could ask for information. I went to a shop near the church where I met Nanay Lorena, the shopkeeper, whom I asked about buntal hats. She replied with words I could hardly say, much more understand: sambalilo and maglalala. Strange they may seem, the former is the local word for sombrero, and the latter is local for buntal hat weaving. She gave me the address of a lady who she personally knew.

Meeting the Traditional Artists

Nanay Tita lives in A. dela Cruz Street, one of Lucban's narrow streets that are outlined by closely built houses which look more like facades in city alleys and very unusual for a provincial town. Upon my arrival, I was greeted by her warm smile and delightful hospitality. She just came from a neighbor's house for her usual Sunday morning chats with her kumares. One of them was Nanay Letty who also came with her to meet the unexpected visitor.

A continuing heritage

Nanay Tita Elloso is 61 years old and is married to a farmer. She has four children, all of whom are already married. The oldest daughter now lives in Manila where she works as a midwife in a hospital. Her other married children and her granddaughters live with her.

Nanay Tita started weaving buntal hats when she was 12 years old. As far as she could remember, her great grandmother was also a buntal hat weaver. The skill was eventually passed on to her through her mother who learned it from the grandmother. Buntal weaving in the family is like a legacy bequeathed from one generation to the next, from mother to daughter. She has not finished any degree in college but is somehow content with her job as a full time weaver like her mother. But the present generation of the family - her daughters and granddaughters - are not keen on pursuing the tradition. What they desire is to finish a degree and get a job in Manila. The handicraft, for her, is becoming a family heritage abandoned, with she being the last in line. How much often she recounted to me her disappointment.

Nanay Letty Iglesia, Nanay Tita's long-time neighbor, kumare, and fellow buntal weaver, is 48 years old, also married to a farmer, and has 4 sons. She started weaving when she was in grade school, though she can no longer remember her exact age then. What she remembers is that she used to observe her mother do buntal hats at home as a child, until she finally became interested and decided to learn and continue her mother's trade. But unlike Nanay Tita, she works as a laundry woman aside from being a weaver. That she jokingly told me that she's a labandera by day, and a buntal weaver by night. Unfortunately, she has no one to teach in her children as she doesn't have daughters. Her granddaughters, despite her desire to teach them, are in no way interested to weave. What they want is to study. This gave her the same disappointment as Nanay Tita.

My arrival in Nanay Tita's house (by the way, I am with a friend whom I pestered to accompany me), spurred the attention of other neighbors who were taking their usual Sunday morning siesta. Little did I know that when I was talking to the two women, several others came in - children from the streets, some men who just wanted to get involved, and, to my delight, other women who are weavers and kiping makers or matikikiping as the locals would call. These women were present the entire time I was there and also shared their ideas.

Buntal hat weaving is a very common activity among women - mothers and grandmothers- in Lucban. These women do the weaving at home alone or with their kumares in the neighborhood during their usual chikahan sessions, as Nanay Tita confessed. These women, like my generous respondents, also learned the skill from their mothers. They do it as their primary job, or as a supplementary money-earning activity.

The buntal fiber as raw material

The main material used for the handicraft is the buntal fiber derived from the buri palm. Endemic to the Philippines, the buri (Corypha elata roxb) is considered as the largest palm in the islands and can grow to up to 20 to 40 meters in height. It has a characteristic large, fan-shaped leaves and stout petioles ranging from two to three meters in length. Its trunk can grow up to 1.5 meters in girth.

Buntal fibers are cylindrical in shape and are extracted from the petioles or palaya of the palm by retting or pulling. These fibers are exported from the nearby town of Siriaya, a known buri fiber production center, and sold in Lucban at P30 per bundle, a quantity enough to make one hat. The buntal fiber is also used for as the raw material for baskets, loom weaving, and in various items as shoes, slippers, coin purses, pen holders, window blinds, wall papers, screen dividers, desk organizers, etc.

Other types of fibers obtained from the buri palm are the raffia, which composes about 90% of fibers derived from the palm and is extracted from the young shoot or leaf, and the buri, which is from the matured leaf. The buri type of fiber is used for making hats, placemats, and bags. Raffia fibers are perfect for upholstery, shoes, slippers, tying materials, portfolio, and a lot more.
Fibers from buri palm are durable, amenable, and long-lasting, making them as one of the most important fibers in handicraft industries. And interestingly enough, not a single part of the palm, much like the closely related coconut tree, is laid to waste. Elegant furniture can be made from the midribs of the palm, fermented toddy from the sap, edible starch from the trunk, "ubud" from the bud, and rosary beads or buttons from hard seeds. The palm is also cultivated in other countries as Thailand, Indonesia, Malaysia, Sri Lanka, and Madagascar.

The buntal fiber bought in Lucban are already extracted and bundled by producers in Siriaya. The process of extraction, as the women recounted, is tedious and manual. Some machines are available, but according to them those done through the traditional means are a lot better. The fibers are pulled (hinuhugit) from the petioles of the palm, dried, and bleached. These then sorted out according to fiber size, bundled, and delivered to other towns.

The fibers that are bought in Lucban are yet to be subjected to a selection process before they are woven. The women themselves, using a certain crude implement, further segregate the fibers, a process called pag-iilo. The fine fibers, called pino, are used for the initial phases of weaving that will from the simula, while the coarser fibers, called the bastos, are used to weave the remaining part of the hat or the dahon.

The process of buntal weaving

Paglalala, or buntal hat weaving, is a home-based industry, transmitted from generation to generation, and labor intensive as it requires simple and crude tools. Only women weave, while men are involved mainly in making the implements and in the upstream process of fiber extraction and preparation.

The women describe the weaving process as salin-salin. Using the pino or fine fibers, the tuktok of the hat is made. In order to create a round, flat layer of weaved fiber, a wooden implement called ipitan is used that clips and holds steady the fibers while the first layers of the tucktok are being weaved. After weaving a disc with a diameter of more than 5 '/2 inches, the woven fibers are then transferred into a hulmahan or mold, a cylindrical wooden implement that forms the ulo of hat. Weaving then proceeds by following the shape of the mold until the height of 4 1/2 inches. Then the dahon is weaved using the coarse fibers. It is about 5 '/4 inches in length. These measurements are standard and followed by all the weavers in the area.

An essential part of making the buntal hat is the creation of the butas. These are designs applied to the ulo of the hat. Weavers have their own original designs and these can be outlines of different shapes created by particular patterns of weaving. Nanay Tita, for instance, applies small round designs which she learned from her mother. Nanay Letty, on the other hand, makes use of larger round designs. The finished product is ironed to flatten the dahon and trimmed to remove any excess fiber.

An essential part of making the buntal hat is the creation of the butas. I was amazed by the skill of Nanay Tita and Nanay Letty who both demonstrated the weaving process while I was interviewing them. Interestingly, their fingers have acquired the dexterity which made the weaving seem a second nature for them. With their distinctive Southern Tagalong accent, they spoke and laughed with me as they did the handicraft to which their fingers have accustomed. But Nanay Tita, complaining that she was old already, committed a single mistake that deformed the hat she was doing. Patiently, she unweaved the fiber and repeated the process from the point she made the mistake.

The buntal hat is sold in traditional shops found at almost every street in the town. Buntal hats delivered to these shops are painted with various colors and added with different designs. These hats are also exported.

Buntal weaving as business

Traditional art forms are created for the service of life. However, the buntal hats in Lucban may not seem to qualify as such since these hats are made mainly for business nowadays.

Buntal hat production involves contract labor arrangements or subcontracting arrangements where women weavers are provided with fibers for production and paid for each hat that they produced. The investors, called namumuhunan, pay them P120 for each hat the produce. Nanay Letty can finish one hat in 3 to 4 days, while Nanay Tita, who weaves full-time, can finish one in two days.

Still, the money they earn is not enough to make their daily ends meet. Nanay Tita relied heavily on his husband's farm produce to finance the education of their children while her wages from buntal weaving are only supplementary. Nanay Letty works full time as a laundry woman and weaves only during the night. His husband is also a farmer.

The buntal hat as a traditional art form

Buntal weaving started in Baliuag, Bulacan before World War II. In Lucban, the people claim their sambalilo as their very own and, along with the famous Pahiyas, is a symbol of their town's identity.

Today, buntal hat weaving continues to thrive as a traditional activity in the town, though most women, if not all, do it mainly for motives of wages. In a contractual arrangement where each one is paid according to the number of hats produced, women are left with no opportunities for creativity as what the system resembles is an assembly line were productivity is measured in terms of quantity, not quality.

Nanay Tita and Nanay Letty have each been producing identical hats far a long time, and have not changed the design of the butas which would create uniqueness of the product. It is in the shops where their woven hats are painted and adorned with ribbons and laces.

But personally, I still like the plain buntal hat that truly reveals the ingenuity and intricateness of the handicraft and its creators.

Coda

Buntal hat weaving remains as a traditional activity among some women in Lucban. However, it faces a formidable danger of being forgotten as the younger generation chooses not to learn the craft and as commercialization of the product prevents the women from exercising creativity in their work.

***
I wrote this paper last year for my Fine Arts 28 class which is on Philippine Art Appreciation under Sir Dodo Defeo.

The benefits of leisure

Politicians also have no leisure, because they are always aiming at something beyond political life itself - Power and glory, or happiness.

-Aristotle


Interesting! This morning, while cleaning the shells on display at home (they have turned dusty gray), I learned something new about how they actually grow. Most shells (if not all) grow their shells clockwise. That is why you can see distinctive clockwise patterns in them. Interestingly enough, you can also note, especially in some species (e.g. gastropods), their sizes before they assumed their present size. Try observing your shells on display at home, you'll be amazed. That's something new I learned today! Truly, leisure time (too much of it) brings a lot of learning.