Margaret Palaghicon Von Rotz
UCLA
When I started this field school, my intention was to write a paper, learn some more Tuwali, and head home. I never imagined leaving the IAP (I say IAP because I'm still in Kiangan with family as I write this haha) and end this summer with some amazing friends and connections that I may never have had otherwise. I knew that coming home through the lens of archaeology would make me look at Ifugao differently, but I just never guessed how much! Returning to Kiangan without the IAP had me searching for our little road to Habian by Omar's, remembering the little waterfall on the way to our field days, reading the "Welcome to Tuplac" sign and passing by the way to Asipulo. There's suddenly new meaning to these roads, suddenly new people for me to visit with my family (hello SITMo!), and a new appreciation for where I come from.
The IAP taught me so much about myself on a cultural level; I've really learned to own my indigenous Tuwali identity while also be critical of my Western, outsider upbringing. Doc really challenged me after wayyyy too much bayah and asked "are you Fil-Am or Am-Fil?" Those types of exchanges really enriched my summer and make me thankful to now have these questions to constantly evaluate even after my summer here ends.
But the IAP also taught me about myself and my goals. I came here with no intention to take an Anthro class or an archaeology class, and now I'm leaving with a newfound love and appreciation of archaeology. I actually LIKED digging in the hot sun, with fears of dengue, and even accessioning until I got carpal tunnel syndrome. No matter how grueling or tedious, I felt like I was not only learning but also contributing to a body of knowledge in a very concrete way. I was learning about and interacting with a people from the past in the most tangible way possible, and that's something I've been craving in many of my social science classes.
I should probably mention the post-harvest rice festival, the Boklay Festival in Asipulo, because it truly captures just how much this summer meant to me, as a second-generation Tuwali-American. Some highlights: teaching dinnuy-a for the first time to friends, drinking bayah for the first time, and pounding rice for the first time! But what resonated most with me was my first time seeing a mumbaki perform. I'll admit, I had quite a bit of rice wine by the time he got to the offering of the chicken to the bulul, but as he butchered it, I literally started crying with tears streaming down my face. It wasn't my first rodeo with the butchering of animals, but I really had never experienced something so... Deep. In some weird way, listening to the baki made me feel like I connected with my mom as a young girl when she witnessed this very ceremony, connected with my late Apu, connected with all the generations who came before me and considered this type of moment sacred. And I cried, because I couldn't handle that much culture at once. Again, I might have been flushed by imbibing bayah, but even that sums up my summer pretty well LOL.
When I applied for this program, Doc gaffed at my "I'm thinking about sociology for my major" comment and said, "You know, a lot of students in the past have left the program with lifelong friends. They've also switched to anthropology and archaeology". I remember thinking, "Sure, Doc. Whatever you say; I just want the chance to go home." I guess you can say I told you so when I get back to UCLA, Doc!
Much love and thanks to my new friends and colleagues from the IAP, and to SITMo for becoming a part of my Ifugao family. Thank you all for the most amazing summer and the beautiful memories! I can't wait to see all of you again, whenever that may be. To Ifugao, you will always be home to me. Haggiyo!
UCLA
When I started this field school, my intention was to write a paper, learn some more Tuwali, and head home. I never imagined leaving the IAP (I say IAP because I'm still in Kiangan with family as I write this haha) and end this summer with some amazing friends and connections that I may never have had otherwise. I knew that coming home through the lens of archaeology would make me look at Ifugao differently, but I just never guessed how much! Returning to Kiangan without the IAP had me searching for our little road to Habian by Omar's, remembering the little waterfall on the way to our field days, reading the "Welcome to Tuplac" sign and passing by the way to Asipulo. There's suddenly new meaning to these roads, suddenly new people for me to visit with my family (hello SITMo!), and a new appreciation for where I come from.
The IAP taught me so much about myself on a cultural level; I've really learned to own my indigenous Tuwali identity while also be critical of my Western, outsider upbringing. Doc really challenged me after wayyyy too much bayah and asked "are you Fil-Am or Am-Fil?" Those types of exchanges really enriched my summer and make me thankful to now have these questions to constantly evaluate even after my summer here ends.
But the IAP also taught me about myself and my goals. I came here with no intention to take an Anthro class or an archaeology class, and now I'm leaving with a newfound love and appreciation of archaeology. I actually LIKED digging in the hot sun, with fears of dengue, and even accessioning until I got carpal tunnel syndrome. No matter how grueling or tedious, I felt like I was not only learning but also contributing to a body of knowledge in a very concrete way. I was learning about and interacting with a people from the past in the most tangible way possible, and that's something I've been craving in many of my social science classes.
I should probably mention the post-harvest rice festival, the Boklay Festival in Asipulo, because it truly captures just how much this summer meant to me, as a second-generation Tuwali-American. Some highlights: teaching dinnuy-a for the first time to friends, drinking bayah for the first time, and pounding rice for the first time! But what resonated most with me was my first time seeing a mumbaki perform. I'll admit, I had quite a bit of rice wine by the time he got to the offering of the chicken to the bulul, but as he butchered it, I literally started crying with tears streaming down my face. It wasn't my first rodeo with the butchering of animals, but I really had never experienced something so... Deep. In some weird way, listening to the baki made me feel like I connected with my mom as a young girl when she witnessed this very ceremony, connected with my late Apu, connected with all the generations who came before me and considered this type of moment sacred. And I cried, because I couldn't handle that much culture at once. Again, I might have been flushed by imbibing bayah, but even that sums up my summer pretty well LOL.
When I applied for this program, Doc gaffed at my "I'm thinking about sociology for my major" comment and said, "You know, a lot of students in the past have left the program with lifelong friends. They've also switched to anthropology and archaeology". I remember thinking, "Sure, Doc. Whatever you say; I just want the chance to go home." I guess you can say I told you so when I get back to UCLA, Doc!
Much love and thanks to my new friends and colleagues from the IAP, and to SITMo for becoming a part of my Ifugao family. Thank you all for the most amazing summer and the beautiful memories! I can't wait to see all of you again, whenever that may be. To Ifugao, you will always be home to me. Haggiyo!
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