Armand Cating

Carrier of Tradition: A waterproof Ifugao pasiking backpack

Since time immemorial the Philippine Cordilleras of Luzon Island have produced a wide array of baskets, from simple mats and trays to rigid three-dimensional containers that served purposes mundane to ceremonial. Among the most diverse and profuse forms of these baskets are the Luzon cordillera backpacks, or pasiking.  Traditionally worn by the males, the pasiking is an open-top or enclosed-lidded basket with twin shoulder straps which enable the free use of your arms. As of the present, these backpacks are still manually woven using the traditional components of split rattan and bamboo. Other materials utilized are wood, deerskin and cloth.  Contemporary twenty-first century specimens now utilize modern materials such as polyester cargo webbing, and nylon straps along with recycled detonation cordage and other materials from the many mines in the mountains.

While each pasiking is unique in its details, every Cordillera ethnolinguistic group has its own distinguishing design with shapes and forms that run the gamut—from square and triangular to ovoid and conical, in extra-small child sizes to huge open cargo carriers called chagi. Construction methods include all three basket-weaving types: twining, coiling, and plaiting and on occasion the Cordilleran weaver will weave a masterpiece utilizing a combination of the three methods.

The Tinguian of Abra call their pasiking lagpi, and this box-like design mirrors their neighbors in Apayao and Kalinga with minor variations in the location and configuration of the shoulder straps. The Bontoc carryall is called sangi. The Ifugao have the triangular hinulitan and my favorite, the hape’eng, a type which has sturdy twin rattan hoops that serve as a convenient handle and as an impromptu seat when out on the trail. Among the Kalanguya, the pasiking made from the hindquarters of a deer are called akbut, while the Ibaloi term for this same deerskin parfleche is dobong.

Of all the Highland Philippine pasiking, the most visually striking are those specimens with fiber weatherproofing. Being able to transport and protect yourself and your possessions in inclement weather affords some comfort and decisive advantages. The utility of a backpack or a raincoat are unquestioned, and here we have an almost unique design combining both.

Of the two best documented types of weatherproofed backpacks, the Ifugao bang-aw and Bontoc fang-ao are similar in appearance, materials and construction. This is not too surprising since—even if they were sworn, headhunting enemies historically—their ethnolinguistic homelands are separated by only a single 6,200 foot mountain range. In the Ifugao bang-aw, the adolna or body of the backpack has a rigid extension (paya) that reaches over the carrier’s shoulders, which is then covered with overlapping rows of fiber (uway) layered from top to bottom in a manner which allows rainwater to cascade away.

The fiber used is the bast or frond sheath of one of three types of fishtail palm found locally: Caryota onusta Bl. (cabo Negro), Caryota Rumphiana var. philippinensis, and Caryota cumingii Lodd. ex. Mart. Called abnut, these fibers bear resemblance to extra-long and thick individual pine needles, and typically an entire palm tree’s worth of fiber is required to protect one backpack. Another type of weatherproofing is the apangdan (Freycinetia banahaencia Elm.), a sturdy vine whose fine stems must be laboriously pounded and worked in water to separate the fibers.

While the bang-aw fulfills the more secular duties of the all-weather conveyance, the central Ifugao inabnutan is distinguished by its moveable paya shoulder flap, fierce appearance, and ceremonial usage. Like the Bontoc takba, the inabnutan are sacred heirlooms, and venerated as an embodiment of the ancestors. These hallowed baskets must be assuaged by sacrifice and ritual and, while usually benign, wield a vindictive capacity when neglected and disrespected.

A most apt visual description of an inabnutan while in use was made by H. Otley Beyer in 1911 outside Banaue. While observing three priests at the front of a munhimung burial ceremony, he characterized the upright fibers on these backpacks as “like the bristling quills of a porcupine” [1] The image below by Dean Conant Worcester is from 1914 and depicts three Ifugao leading a funeral procession with men wearing an inabnutan in the center, and a bang-aw to the right.

The Peabody Museum at Harvard has at least six fiber-covered pasiking in its collections. Four are a medium size, with one large, and the other an extra large, oversized version.  All six are intact and in very good condition considering they came to the Peabody Museum over one hundred years ago.

This featured pasiking was collected by William Cameron Forbes in 1910 and donated to the Peabody Museum in 1912. Mr. Forbes served for ten years in the Philippines, and was ultimately appointed as the U.S. Governor General from 1909–1913. The original accession documents identify this “carrying basket” as Ifugao in origin [2] Identified as a bang-aw, it is distinguished by its reinforced selvaging on the top paya flap and exhibits the correct black/brown smoky patina from being stored close to the hearth inside the windowless Ifugao ayangan dwelling.  The fiber covering is abnut and has the dark coloration and irregular wear patterns that indicate this bang-aw was well worn and used at the time it was collected.

The photograph below depicts a large group of Ifugao males, and was given to the Museum in 1909 by H. Otley Beyer. There are at least eight pasiking in the photo, with clear images of bang-aw backpacks to the right and bottom right.

It is quite the exception today to come across a basket imbued with the care and detail of a master weaver. Pasiking production continues somewhat today as a commodity for the tourist trade. In contrast to this bang-aw, these mass-produced specimens are frail and crafted as wall decorations rather than as a daily conveyance. The traditional raw materials of rattan and bamboo have become scarce due to negligence and climate change, necessitating a shift to synthetic components. The requisite weaving skill dwindles as not enough knowledge is being passed on to the next generation of crafters. Through exhibits at institutions like this, and with the support of enlightened advocates; the pasiking weaving heritage of the Northern Philippines has a chance of being preserved and carried on for future generations to enjoy.