Panag-erél na Sira ed Mangabul

 Panag-erél na Sira ed Mangabul

In the quiet barangay of San Gabriel 2nd in Bayambang, Pangasinan, where the waters of Mangabul 'Lake' glisten beneath the sun, an old fishing practice continues to move with the seasons. “Panag-erél na sira” or the traditional practice of fishing has sustained families, shaped community ties, and reflected the ecological wisdom of generations.

A Lake, A Season, A Way of Life

Actually a reservoir, with the entire area officially called a reservation, Mangabul Lake lies cradled by a dike, its waters connected through a concrete bridge that links San Gabriel 2nd, Bayambang town in Pangasinan to Moncada town in Tarlac. Trees and wild grasses fringe its edges, and the road leading to it remains muddy and uncertain—much like the delicate balance that sustains this body of water itself.

Fishing here is not an everyday spectacle. It awakens most vividly during the rainy season, when the current quickens and fish move with greater abundance. From 6:00 AM to 11:00 AM, fishermen tend their apparatus, mindful that longer hours often mean a fuller catch.

According to the key informant who has fished the lake for nearly four decades, Mangabul once teemed with life — tilapia, gurami, tamos, gele-gele, and karpa. The lake provided not only food, but dignity and livelihood. In its waters, fathers taught sons not merely survival, but stewardship.

Craftsmanship of the Waters

The practice of panag-erél na sira is anchored in humble yet ingenious tools—expressions of traditional craftsmanship shaped by necessity and experience:

Aparato is a metal-framed fishing device reinforced with net and wires, measuring 92 cm in height, 134 cm in length, and 61 cm in width.

Bilayan is a wooden and netted fishing implement, 66 cm by 104 cm.

Baluto is the local term for banca or a slender wooden vessel, over five meters long, used to ferry people or goods across the water.

These objects are not mass-produced commodities; they are extensions of the fisherman's hands. Their dimensions speak of adaptation to the lake’s depth and flow. Their materials reveal resourcefulness. Each bears the imprint of lived experience.

Transmission through Bloodlines and Belonging

The culture-bearer is also a bridge of tradition. Taught by his father, he in turn taught his sons—ensuring that knowledge did not dissolve with time. This quiet act of transmission, informal yet profound, is the heartbeat of intangible heritage.

Today, only a few residents continue the practice. Yet every cast net carries ancestral echoes. Fishing is rarely solitary; it fosters camaraderie and cooperation among neighbors. In shared labor, there is shared identity.

More than livelihood, this body of water has layers of significance.

In terms of history, the local fishing practice preserves the lifestyle of San Gabriel 2nd’s residents, bearing witness to their ingenuity and endurance.

In economic terms, the lake has been a source of sustenance for many families—fish on the table and income in hand.

Socially speaking, fishing in groups strengthens bonds, weaving unity into daily life.

Notably, the practice is honored during the annual 'Malangsi 'Fish-tival,' where the bounty of local inland fishery is displayed in the vibrant street party called 'Kalutan ed Dalan' (Grilling on the Street). In celebration, tradition becomes spectacle; subsistence becomes pride.

Fragility beneath the Surface

Yet like many living traditions, fishing here faces uncertainty. During El Niño, when drought grips the land, Mangabul Lake can run dry. The body of water is quickly transformed into vegetable farmlands. Though efforts have been made to channel water from the Agno River, the lake remains vulnerable. When the river weakens, so too does the lake—and with it, the fishing practice.

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In the broader cultural landscape of Bayambang, panag-erél na sira mirrors the town’s enduring relationship with nature. It embodies patience, skill, and communal harmony—values that have long defined Pangasinense identity.

Mangabul’s waters may rise and fall with the seasons, but as long as there are hands willing to cast nets and fathers willing to teach sons, the spirit of this tradition endures. It is a heritage not confined to the past, but flowing—quietly, persistently—into the future.

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(Documented in 2019 by students of Bayambang National High School who journeyed to what remains of the once-sprawling Mangabul after the devastation of lahar from Mt. Pinatubo's eruption in 1990)