Flooded with Watery Thoughts

Flooded with Watery Thoughts

Our town today, like many other towns in the country, is swamped with floodwaters. I can't help but be reminded of so many things related to flooding from the historical and cultural perspectives.

First of all, our town of Bayambang, Pangasinan, if you think about it, was created out of a great flooding incident. To quote a historical account, "In 1741, due to frequent floods, the inhabitants of Malunguey relocated to a place called Bayambang. The church and convent, both made of wood, were also transferred to Bayambang, its present site."

It appears that, the town is no stranger to periodic destructive flooding since its founding in 1614. One particularly destructive one in 1972 inundated and washed away Wawa's then timber bridge, then another monstrous flood in 1976 washed away a bridge of the PNR that used to run parallel Calvo Bridge.

One really old photograph from the collection of local academic, Dr. Clarita Jimenez, shows deep floodwaters along what is now Rizal Ave. However, instead of horror in the face of residents, one sees young people having fun boating in their takukos (wide-brimmed woven-grass hat). They even took advantage of what we consider today as tragedy into a dating site!

I have an idea that the lowest parts of Bayambang are a catch basin, but it is only recently that I learned from our DRRM officer that it catches not just rainwater flowing down from the Ilocandia and Cordilleras, especially Ambuklao and Binga dams, but also water coming from nearby Nueva Ecija and Nueva Vizcaya rivers, tributaries, and streams as well as a river from neighboring Tarlac. The nadir (lowest point) appears to be Sitio Lagare in Brgy. Paragos. It is also near what used to be Mangabul Lake (actually not a real lake fed by a natural "subol" or spring deep within, points out one local researcher, Elmina Quinto Paras, but just a reservoir or a catchment area which even has a history of being a watershed, forestland, or timberland.)

I hope "catch basin" is a misnomer because the area, in fact, is not the endpoint; the water does not stay there but eventually drains into the Agno River further downstream towards other towns like Mangatarem until the water reaches Agno town and empties out into the Lingayen Gulf and South China/West Philippine Sea.

I can't help but notice that the word "paragos" means irrigation in the Pangasinan language (correct me if I am wrong, although irrigation ditch is nowadays called "paranom"), while another barangay nearby, called Managos, means, "flowing." And I can't help but remember what another resident, Oscar Ora, said about the word "bayambang." It actually refers to, aside from certain plants, "a place that has lots of water in it" (lugar ya madanom). Note that a barangay in Infanta town is also called Bayambang, so it is interesting to know where they got the same name.

Thoughtful people like Joseph Quinto thus can't help but be skeptical over Bayambang town's purported etymology being the Ilocano (!) word for butterfly, culibangbang (quite farfetched), which refers to a butterfly shape-leafed tree, balangbang or balambang (hip), bayang-bayang (scarecrow), etc., when there are things (plants and place) that are actually called bayambang.

Furthermore, a sitio in Brgy. Tambac is called Balangobong, and I learned that it is another old Pangasinan term, and the onomatopoeic word refers to something like "a place where water runs."

Speaking of flood, I also need to point out that we Pangasinenses not just have plenty of words for rain, about which our friend, PSU prof and KWF Commissioner Melchor Orpilla, has thankfully written at length, we also have specific terms for flooding. (He says we Pangasinenses are "people of the rain," and he is correct.) I remember him pointing out the existence of the word "elnab," which means "weak flood that stays for a limited time." "I suddenly remember my bai (grandma) who often used the word "man-nelnab" (?), to derisively refer to something sopping wet like a moldering rag, and her other words for "wet" from "ambasa," to apuyot (sopping wet), to "manumey" (dripping wet). "Danas" is reportedly "flood with strong force." From the book, "Pangasinan, Pinablin Dalin," I have also encountered the term, "lanayap" or "lanayap so danom," which refers to "the large amount of water that accumulates during typhoon, resulting in widespread or great flood." "When this happens, it is necessary to take extra precaution against the appearance of animals that pose danger such as snakes, mosquitoes and even rats."

Bayambang, it must be noted, is not just a riverine town, but has other minor bodies of inland water that serve as fishery resource: Langiran Lake, Kulos (pond?) na Tanolong, Minas na Sapang (an artificial pond), plus other such ponds in three or four other barangays up north on top of minor streams coming from Agno River or other rivers down south. At this point, I am reminded of forgotten terms for Pangasinan boats (baloto) and water vessels, such lamos (raft); sakayan (boat for travel); batel (motorized boat with hull); biong (a boat); paraw, taksayan, and salapyao (assorted fishing boats); and fishing implements especially from the Mangabul area, such as siir, silew, salambao, taksay, tabar, tabal, sakupit, balulang, bobo, talakeb, palukso, payakyak, pakpet... The only terms that seem to have survived are those used for fishing nets: sigay and sabukol.

When the San Roque Dam in San Manuel town was constructed during the term of Pres. Fidel V. Ramos as a hydroelectric power source in 2003, it became the catchment point for Ambuklao Dam and Binga Dam as well as the country's biggest dam. Any news of its water level reaching critical levels was therefore a cause of fright for townsfolk living along the waterway way beyond the dam. Traumatic memories are still fresh in the minds of Bayambangueños when typhoon 'Pepeng' brought Pangasinan on its knees on September 27, 2009. That time, the widespread flooding caused panic after someone shouted some fake news that San Roque Dam had just burst. People laugh at the stories now, but certainly not when they were occurring. I know a trike driver who suddenly possessed a high-end cell phone because somebody threw it away in fright upon hearing the false news. There were stories of how coins at the public market flew in all directions and yet some people still managed to catch a few. And how a funeral rite at the church was unceremoniously stopped, with the priest and all attendees leaving the dead all alone as they instinctively scampered to safety. And how people ran for their lives or drove all the way up, en masse, to the Poblacion area's highest point at Brgy. Cadre Site, certain that they would get drowned if they didn't. The pandemonium is straight out of a movie that no one has ever made yet.

How I wish all that rainwater flowing down on us all were storable into a vast underground cistern of sorts so it could be pumped out for later, to be recycled as irrigation water or purified even as potable water.

May the stormy rains end very soon, let us pray. It's no longer fun getting drenched, sweeping away excess water, and growing mildews all around, with people running out of underwear too. Not to mention the intermittent power outages.

On the other hand, they say the nonstop raining replenishes our topsoil and water tables. What we now routinely view as a curse may also be seen as a blessing like of old. Water, we are reminded, is just like fire: both a friend and a foe, depending on the circumstances and how we look at it. What we can do in times when it turns into a foe is to adapt to it and adjust according to its whims. The much-maligned Badjaos, with their stilt-house architecture and way of life as a floating village in the open sea, are much more advanced at this. Together with our forgotten traditions as a frequently inundated town with bodies water, we perhaps have a lot to learn from them in terms of climate adaptation and resiliency.

(photo: MDRRMO-Bayambang)