Becoming Barefoot: Reflections of a Local and Would-Be Engaged Researcher
By: Jacob Carpio
Tags: Development, Philippines, Airports, Bulacan, Anthropology

Bulakan. We spell it with a “K.”

There is something special in doing film photography — one produces lasting images using a finite set of resources. The results rarely capture the authenticity of the subject, the lens always adds a new dimension to the captured image: a lens flare, distortion, focus. In one way or another, a photograph can affect the acuity of our memories — it tainting our memories in such that what we have in our minds is an image of an experience that’s based on a photograph more than the real matter. For me, these stills capture what Bulakan is — historic, tranquil, green, home.

This home has been my family’s home for at least 150 years (based on the when my great, great grandmother was born). While some of our family members had emigrated, our roots remain here: our ancestors are still buried here, our homes still stand where they ought to be. We are taal na Tagalog (pure Tagalog) — our being embedded in this land of the Taga-Ilog. We do not belong to the “elite” of this town, however, our family network is extensive, and our friends far-reaching. I could tell you a lot of stories about my hometown, and some of these stories I have already tried to capture in research (mostly for my undergraduate courses at the University of the Philippines).

No boys allowed — as per tradition, only women are allowed to touch the well-venerated image of Saint Agnes in Brgy. Santa Ines, Bulakan.

My friend and I made a small study problematizing why our barangay had two functioning Tricycle Operators and Drivers Associations (TODA). I have also written a short piece that pays homage to a very unique tradition in our town: an image that can only be touched by women. There are so many interesting bits about Bulakan. The topic of this article may be the most contentious as of the time being.

Brackish [back]waters

I love history and heritage and I deem it fitting that I begin this report with a historical piece about Bulakan. There is a humorous theory as to the “real” origin of the name “Bulacan” (Hispanicized version of Bulakan). While common history would claim that the name hails from the cotton plan or the kapok tree, some theorists would say the “Bulacan” actually comes from the word burak (mire) — a dominant feature of the landscape with the town being a catch basin of Candaba swamp (talk about a linguistic free variation pun). Where burak is abundant, there is bound to be brackish water: the convergence of salty and the fresh. The estuary sheltering both man and beast. Perhaps this terrain is a fitting allusion to the history of our town — a convergent point for the rural and the urban, and yet somehow even with “progress” looming the town has been (and arguably remains) a sort of backwater.

Despite its proximity to the national and provincial centers of government and commerce, one cannot ignore the lowly atmosphere of the town. A friend, upon visiting our town for the first time, has remarked on how sleepy the town seems. I can’t blame him for having such an observation: our town does seem rather sleepy. Tatay used to say to me often that our town, save for a few new buildings and trees cut down, hasn’t changed much since his youth. However, that sleepiness hasn’t been always the case for Bulakan. Historically, our town was the premier among the Tagalog region: the seat of political power, trade, and religious influence for the entire province at the time of Spanish occupation (heck, it was the province which was named after the town and not the other way around). Several prominent figures in Philippine history originated from Bulakan: Gregorio and Marcelo del Pilar being the two most popular Bulakenyo icons. It must have been a lovely town in its heyday — the towering Neo-Romanesque masonry church surrounded by a dozen graceful bahay-na-bato, and just nearby the pristine rivers and tributaries flow freely towards Manila Bay. It slowly lost its status during the Philippine-American War up to the American Occupation, during which the capital was transferred to the nearby town of Malolos. What was once a thriving river-based economy soon fell into oblivion as one-by-one signs of new progress (the railroad, the national highway) by-passed this once affluent town.

While Bulakan boasts a 1st class municipality rank in terms of income classification, much of its environment still gives off that rural vibe. Signs of “progress” are still scanty — our town does not have a single fast-food restaurant. Cindy’s, the only one which dared, stopped operations a year after it had opened its doors. The closest we have had to a Jollibee was its food truck version that only visits our town once a year during the town fiesta in August. Other than that, it’s perhaps a concerted action among all big fast-food marketing departments to avoid our lowly town.