After Haiyan: Discrimination in the face of disaster
When a country is torn by a disaster as catastrophic as Typhoon Haiyan (when over 6,000 died) you wouldn’t expect something like ethnicity to get in the way of emergency assistance — yet for one of the oldest ethnic groups in the Philippines, discrimination is all too common, especially in the face of disaster.
The Tagbanua are an indigenous community, found in the north of Palawan, on Calauit Island, Philippines. Back in 1976, a presidential decree claimed the island as an experimental zoo for endangered African animals and the Tagbanua were forcibly removed their ancestral land.
80-year-old Maria Loaquib, a member of the Tagbanua community, speaks out about the time spent in exile.
“For ten years, we were resettled in a barren land, we went hungry.” — Maria Loaquib.
After much resistance, the Tagbanua returned to Calauit Island, but things didn't get any better, Maria continues: “We decided to come back but they kept demolishing our houses. The military barricaded our source of water. They fenced us out, so we only had coconuts to eat. We lived like monkeys.”
With no other choice than to share with the animals, the Tagbanua have been forced to settle in the worst possible part of the island — low-lying coastal areas, often having to build their homes and schools dangerously close to the shoreline.
Maria’s house is a classic example of this. Made with light materials such as bamboo and scrap wood, the house is built within 40 metres of the shoreline — but past experience and a long history of displacement among the Tagbanua means that she is resistant to moving.
“Some people came and said we should be relocated far from the ocean. But we refused.” — Maria Loaquib.
You can imagine then, that with the remoteness of the island and with its small size, the Tagbanua are at very high risk in any disaster.
Yet despite this, in November 2013, the Tagbanua were made to wait two weeks in the aftermath of super-typhoon Haiyan, before receiving any emergency relief from the government.
“We had no roof over our heads. We ate anything.” — Maria Loaquib
Roy Dabuit, president of the Balik Calauit Movement (BCM) says that the Tagbanua are usually the least priority, and in the case of Haiyan, nearby communities had already received aid, whereas the Tagbanua were made to wait weeks before receiving anything.
The Balik Calauit Movement work as gatekeepers to the Tagbanua in Calauit. Initially set up to help reclaim lost ancestral land, the movement are now active in helping the community demand their human rights.
The prevailing exclusionary attitude from local government and strong resistance from local officials, means that policies such as the ‘Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act, calling for indigenous representation in local government, are unfortunately shelved.
With such tension and little political visibility and influence, it’s no wonder the Tagbanua were left out of government relief plans.
“Whenever the government responds to a disaster, they have their own list of beneficiaries. We were not consulted; we could not find our beneficiaries in the government list. They have control, and we don’t.” — Roy Dabuit.
That’s why Christian Aid prioritise excluded communities during emergency response. Whilst many agencies focused on aid at the entry point of Haiyan — Samar, Leyte and Tacloban — we supported partners like the Samdhana Institute who were among the first to respond in Palawan, where the typhoon exited.
But the remoteness of the island and the damaged roads slowed relief efforts from outside agencies — “It took us three weeks to reach the farther islands because we had to establish the necessary logistics for supplies, communication and transportation” says Erwin Quiñones of Samdhana.
Another Christian Aid partner, PHILSSA (Partnership of Philippine Support Service Agencies), also met the same challenges. Yet despite this, our partners were able to provide conditional cash distributions for shelter and livelihoods, as well as food, hygiene kits, blankets and shelter to the entire island. Their close ties with indigenous institutions like BCM meant they were able to co-ordinate an effective response.
Maria received relief packs from both Samdhana and cash from PHILSSA which she used to grow squash, string beans and sweet potatoes in her vegetable garden. Part of her money also went to buying vital medicine and rebuilding her house.
Others in the community such as Polita Agnes and Onofre Muid chose to raise goats. “The goat can start breeding when they are four months old. So in a year, you can already have two generations of goats,” says Onofre. They’ve already tripled their initial three goats to nine and plan to sell them on for a profit.
But how did the Tagbanua community survive the destruction of a super typhoon and two whole weeks without any outside help?
Hours before the typhoon struck, the community reverted to their indigenous knowledge to direct their actions. Several signs, from the movement of the sea grass, the restlessness of insects and animals, and the flight of birds indicated that “strong winds and strong waves” were coming. Local knowledge was an alarm for the entire community — that hailed the coming of a disaster.
Quickly, indigenous institutions like BCM began rounding people up, warning them of the impending typhoon. And when no help arrived, they began their own relief process. They contacted organisations like our partners PHILSSA, Samdhana, as well as academic institutions, churches and the local government.
In the days that followed the typhoon, getting around the Island proved difficult, due to the felled trees and debris that blocked the way. Despite the extreme risk, BCM took control of the situation and left the island by boat, heading for the mainland to seek help from the municipal government, the mayor and the MDRRMO (Municipal Disaster Risk reduction and Management Office).
“We borrowed a chainsaw to clear our streets. We looked for ways to communicate with…the Commission on Human Rights and the church. We sent reports to them that detailed the damages in our community. At that time, we had not yet received any help. The food packs arrived only after two weeks.” — Roy Dabuit
Without any outside intervention, the Tagbanua persevered. Whatever clothing was available, was salvaged. They collected water from rain catchments, and foraged for wild foods and root crops like sweet potatoes, yams and tubers.
When help finally arrived, it was discovered that there was not one death among the Tagbanua. The community had survived one of the strongest typhoons to ever hit the Philippines.
Erwin Quiñones of Samdhana stresses that “indigenous knowledge must not be waylaid in preference of scientific knowledge,” and he is convinced that land rights have a positive correlation with resilience and disaster preparedness.
Indigenous communities benefit from their rich indigenous knowledge and a complex system of beliefs that are continuously informed by interaction between humans and nature, particularly of their ancestral land. This is what allows communities such as the Tagbanua to navigate their environment with confidence, and negotiate uncertain environmental changes.
So, in the virtual absence of government presence and when subject to detrimental discriminatory practices, the importance of indigenous knowledge and the strength of the indigenous institutions are key to enriching local capacity for disaster risk reduction and management of natural resources — or more simply — key to survival.
Christian Aid continues to support Samdhana and PHILSSA, and the work they do with indigenous institutions such as BCM. It’s important to us that when building a disaster risk reduction strategy with indigenous populations like the Tagbanua, we are not only considering our scientific learning, but we are also harnessing indigenous traditions, knowledge, and ways of life.
This blog was written by Alaysa Tagumpay Escandor edited by Vanessa Dubuisson, Communications Officers for Christian Aid.
