Panagbaliw: Crossing the River that Remembers

Panagbaliw: Crossing the River that Remembers

Along the quiet waterways of Brgy. Amancosiling Sur, where the river bends like a patient arm around fields of green, an ancient routine once governed the day: the soft scrape of bamboo pole against current, the steady push of wood against water, and the call of a boatman ready to ferry neighbors across.

This is panagbaliw—with the boatman also known as managbaliw or managbaluto—a traditional way of water transportation that has carried not only passengers but generations of memory in Bayambang.

A Craft Born of River and Need

Since time immemorial, panagbaliw has served as a living bridge between the barrios of Amancosiling Sur, San Gabriel, and Manambong. Long before paved roads and motor vehicles reshaped the landscape, the river was both boundary and passageway. Farmers, traders, and families relied on the baluto—a slender wooden vessel roughly three meters long—to cross swiftly and affordably.

The baluto was simple yet ingenious: Wood and bamboo formed its narrow body. The begsay (sagwan), a wooden paddle, steered against strong currents during high tide. Teken or tukor, a longer kawayan (bamboo) pole, tipped with metal, pushed firmly against the riverbed during low tide.

Each crossing required balance, timing, and intimate knowledge of water depth and current. The boatman read the river as others read weathered pages—every ripple a sentence, every tide a warning or welcome.

The Boatman’s Life

Among its practitioners was Peter Fernandez Pinto, a retired managbaliw from Amancosiling Sur. For ten years, he guided passengers across the river—farmers on their way to fields, children clutching school bags, vendors carrying woven baskets of produce.

He learned the craft from his elders, inheriting not only technique but responsibility. In turn, he passed the knowledge to younger relatives, sustaining a lineage of river wisdom. Panagbaliw was never merely a livelihood; it was stewardship—of safety, of skill, of community trust.

More than Transportation

Panagbaliw’s significance flows in many directions. Historically, perhaps for over a century, it connected communities long before infrastructure made travel convenient. Across its tranquil waters in Bayambang, it was said that national hero Dr. Jose Protacio Rizal once made his quiet crossing—journeying over its gentle current on his way to visit his cousin, childhood sweetheart, and secret lover Leonor Rivera in Dagupan. Economically, it offered farmers an affordable and direct route to their land, sparing them the longer journey through town. For boatmen, it was a modest but vital source of income. Socially speaking, each crossing became a space of exchange—stories shared midstream, friendships renewed on narrow planks of bamboo.

In its quiet way, panagbaliw through the baluto fostered commerce, kinship, and continuity.

A Tradition at the Water’s Edge

Today, the hum of engines has largely replaced the hush of poles dipping into water. Improved roads and popular motor vehicles have made river crossings less practical. Panagbaliw survives, but not as commonly as before.

Yet its story endures. The pioneers continue to teach younger kin how to balance the baluto, how to push against the current, how to respect the river’s temperament. Transmission—through family memory and lived demonstration—remains its strongest safeguard.

The River That Carries Memory

Panagbaliw is a form of subsistence technology shaped by ecology—born from rainforest and bamboo groves, guided by river tides, and sustained by human adaptability.

In Amancosiling Sur, the river still flows. And though fewer baluto glide across its surface, the tradition remains etched in community consciousness—a testament to how culture moves, quite literally, with the current.

More than a means of crossing water, panagbaliw is a way of crossing time.

(Original mapper: Jaira Farrales, BNHS student)