The Murillo Bulletin Issue No. 10 by PHIMCOS

The Murillo Bulletin Journal of PHIMCOS The Philippine Map Collectors Society

Issue No. 10

November 2020

In this Issue:  

Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr. (1926 – 2020)

Expedición a Joló 1876 

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Balanguingui Expedition 1848

The Upside-down 1554 Ramusio Map

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A View of Sooloo 1761

Vanishing Vegetables and Maps

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The Murillo Bulletin Issue No. 10

November 2020 In this Issue

PHIMCOS News & Events

page 3

Obituary: Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr. (1926 – 2020)

Benito J. Legarda, Jr., Ph.D. – Historian by Jaime C. Laya

Addenda et Corrigenda

Expedición a Joló 1876 – Baltasar Giraudier’s Drawings by Jaime C. González

The Balanguingui Expedition of 1848 by Jaime C. González

A View of the Island of Sooloo 1761 by Peter Geldart

Naming the Philippines – The Upside-down 1554 Ramusio-Gastaldi Map by John Silva

Vanishing Vegetables – Food History and Maps by Felice Prudente Sta. Maria

PHIMCOS Trustees, Members & Committee Members

About PHIMCOS The Philippine Map Collectors Society (PHIMCOS) was established in 2007 in Manila as the first club for collectors of antique maps and prints in the Philippines. Membership of the society, which has grown to a current total of 49 members (including individual and joint members, and corporate nominees), is open to anyone interested in collecting, analysing or appreciating historical maps, charts, prints, paintings, photographs, postcards and books of the Philippines. When possible, PHIMCOS holds quarterly general meetings at which members and their guests discuss cartographic news and give after-dinner presentations on topics such as maps of particular interest, famous cartographers, the mapping of the Philippines, or the lives of prominent Filipino collectors and historians. A major focus for PHIMCOS is the sponsorship of exhibitions, lectures and other educational events designed to educate the public about the importance of cartography as a way of learning both the geography and the history of the Philippines. The Murillo Bulletin, the society’s journal (edited by Peter Geldart), is normally published twice a year. PHIMCOS welcomes new members. The fee for an Individual Membership is Php.6,000 per annum; for Joint Memberships (for two people) and Corporate Memberships (with two nominees) the fee is Php.10,000 per annum. The application form and additional information on PHIMCOS are available on our website www.phimcos.org . Front Cover: Plano de las Yslas Filipinas … by José Francisco Badaraco, Cádiz, c1740 (image courtesy of Archivo del Museo Naval, Madrid, ref. AMN 58-11)

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PHIMCOS News & Events

OR THE first PHIMCOS event of the new decade, on the morning of 18 January 2020 ten keen members assembled at the Loyola Heights Campus of Ateneo de Manila University to visit the American Historical Collection. The collection was established by U.S. Ambassador Myron Cowen in 1950; initially housed at the U.S. embassy, it is now part of Ateneo’s Rizal Library. The collection, consisting of books and documents largely donated by the American community, has continued to grow and now has some 13,000 books, 18,000 photographs – and over 200 maps. The visit had been arranged by Dr. Jaime Laya with Rosalyn Santos Diño, the Librarian, and on arrival we were met by Assistant Librarian Aldo Enriquez. The maps we had requested to see were already laid out for us on a long table, but our enthusiasm was such that by the end of our two-hour visit the library’s staff had brought out almost the entire map collection for us to examine. Although some of the maps and plans were familiar, we discovered quite a few that were new to all (or at least most) of us, including the following:  A Correct Map of the Philippine Islands by John Jackson, published in the English translation of An historical view of the Philippine Islands by Joaquín Martínez de Zúñiga, London 1814;  a very long map of parts of Pampanga, Tarlac and Pangasinan titled Map of the Operations of the 2d Division, 8th Army Corps. May 31, 1899, to April 6, 1900;

 three early plans of Baguio, one showing “Existing and Proposed Improvements” by W.E. Parsons, Consulting Architect, dated March 1909; one showing the “Location of Cottages”, dated October 22, 1915; and one dated June 30, 1917;  Philippine Sea Frontier 1945 Christmas Souvenir Map of Manila Showing Points of Interest, which features a dozen photographs of war-damaged public buildings;  a 1945 plan of the City of Manila with the overprint “Administrative Map ‘A’ to Accompany Administrative Order No. 1 dated 15 Jan. 1947 ― = MSR”; and  two large, colourful maps of Cebu by the Bureau of Soil Conservation showing the results of soil surveys from 1947 to 1952.

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Three weeks later, on 12 February, we held our first general membership meeting of the year – little suspecting that it would also become our only in-person meeting for 2020. The evening was attended by 26 members and 18 guests. The meeting was held to commemorate the 75th anniversary of the Battle of Manila, which took place from 3 February to 3 March, 1945. In “Sweet Sixteen: Celebrating Life in 1945 Manila” Andoni Aboitiz gave a talk about his family’s movements over a three-week period during the battle. Albert Montilla then provided his own, personally-witnessed account of the shooting down of an American B-24 bomber over Manila on 8 January, 1945.

˂ PHIMCOS at the American Historical Collection (from left): Manny Ticzon, Albert Montilla, Connie González, Jonathan Best, Jimmie González, Jaime Laya, Fedeliz Geldart, Christian Perez, Marga Binamira and Peter Geldart 3

In the third presentation of the evening, Ricardo Trota Jose looked at the Battle of Manila from a Japanese perspective. In “Crushed Jewels”, a title taken from the English translation of gyokusai, a term that means “glorious annihilation” in Japanese military parlance, he assessed both the behaviour of the Japanese forces in Manila and the available sources of information on the subject. PHIMCOS continued its commemoration of the 75th anniversary of the return of U.S. troops to the Philippines, the Battle of Manila and the Liberation in 1945 by co-sponsoring a special exhibition at the Ortigas Foundation Library. Occupation and Victory – The Philippines in World War II, co-curated by Jonathan Best and John Silva, featured items from the collections of the Ortigas Library, Albert Montilla and other PHIMCOS members. The many maps, charts, paintings, photographs, books and ephemera on display presented both well-known and littleknown, under-appreciated aspects of the history of the Philippines up to and during World War II. Unfortunately, attendance at the exhibition’s opening reception, held at the library on 12 March, was affected by the threat posed by the spread of the Covid-19 pandemic. Nevertheless, over 60 PHIMCOS members and Friends of the Ortigas Library came to view the exhibits and hear Rico Jose give another interesting and informative talk on “The Battle of Manila: Tragic End of Three Years of Japanese Occupation”. The next day the exhibition had to close, never to re-open to the public, when the government announced the first of the general and then enhanced community quarantines that have so disrupted our lives this year. Despite its closure, PHIMCOS has been able to bring the exhibition to a wider audience in two ways. In August we published a Special World War II issue of The Murillo Bulletin. This 56-page issue contains detailed descriptions and images of many of the items on display in the exhibition, articles based on the talks given at the general meeting on 12 February, another article by Rico Jose, on the leaflets dropped on the Japanese by the U.S. Army’s Psychological Warfare Branch, and a review by John Silva of James Scott’s highly acclaimed book, Rampage, the definitive story of the liberation of Manila.

Our second “lockdown event” took place on the 75th anniversary of V-J Day, 2 September, 1945, when Japan signed the Instrument of Surrender aboard the USS Missouri. With our general meetings in May and August having been cancelled, we arranged a virtual Zoom meeting at which John Silva presented a video tour of the exhibition, followed by an extended Q&A session. A total of 154 PHIMCOS members, Friends of the Ortigas Library and guests signed up for the event, and notwithstanding a few minor technical glitches the feedback was overwhelmingly positive. Topics covered in the Q&A session included the behaviour of General Yamashita, the extent to which U.S. forces were to blame for the destruction of Manila, whether sufficient funds were made available for rebuilding the city, and why the Mabalacat kamikaze museum is allowed to remain open.

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Sadly the 2020 pandemic has not only disrupted our Society’s events, but has also affected our membership. On 26 August one of our earliest members, Benito J. Legarda, Jr. succumbed to Covid-19. We publish our obituary opposite, followed by an assessment of his contributions to Philippine history by Jaime Laya.

Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr. (1926 – 2020)

N AUGUST 26, 2020 our Society sadly lost its oldest, and one of its earliest, members. At the age of 94, Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr. succumbed to the Covid-19 pandemic that has been sweeping the world. In the words of PHIMCOS President Jaime C. González: When Chari Montilla informed me that Beniting had been admitted to the hospital, having tested positive for Covid-19, I never imagined that this vicious virus would not spare a man of such deep and extensive knowledge of Philippine history and culture. Beniting was a stalwart of our Society and one who was never hesitant in clarifying, commenting or indeed correcting aspects of the presentations during our quarterly membership meetings. Unless otherwise indisposed, he would always be present at these meetings although he would seldom confirm his attendance ahead of time. Many may not even have known he was there since he would be quietly enjoying the evening’s dinner fare, until such time the presentations started. Beniting will clearly be missed by the Society and the community. His passing away is a grim reminder of the ruthlessness of this virus and the need for all of us to assiduously follow the safety protocols.

The grandson of Benito Legarda y Tuason and the son of Benito Roces Legarda and Trinidad Fernandez-Legarda, Beniting Legarda (as he was called by his many friends and relatives) was born in Manila on August 6, 1926. He earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Social Science from Georgetown University in 1948, a Master of Arts in Economics from Harvard in 1950, and a Ph.D. in Economics from Harvard in 1955. During his long life, Beniting Legarda was the Deputy Governor for Economic Research at the Central Bank of the Philippines, a founding member of the Philippine Statistical Association, a founding member and later president of the Philippine Economic Society, a trustee of the

Dr. Benito Legarda, Jr. and Alberto Montilla at the opening of the PHIMCOS Mapping the Philippine Seas exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Manila on March 14, 2017

American Historical Collection Foundation, a board member of the National Historical Institute, a trustee of the National Museum, and a member of the board of advisers at the Ayala Museum. His longtime friend Alberto Montilla recalls how they met: I first met Dr. Benito Legarda Jr. sometime in the mid-1960s in the house of Menet Legarda, his cousin, in Santolan Avenue, Sta. Mesa. Thereafter we did not cross paths until the early 1970s when Beniting and Lita Ganzon, a pediatrician and a very good friend of the family, announced that they were getting married and asked Don Rafael Ortigas Sr. (my father-in-law) to be their sponsor; eventually, he also walked her down the aisle. It was a very private ceremony which took place sometime in early April, 1971.

Beniting and Lita both enjoyed classical music, operas, ballet, and art in general. It was surprising – and would astound us – how Beniting could explain musical passages to the last detail. He could talk about almost any subject with accuracy. Such a brilliant mind! Our Sunday Group, composed of Dick Powell, Beniting Legarda, Pete Alegria, Fernando Pando, Javier Galvan, Carlos Madrid, my brothers-in law Rafael (Rafa) Ortigas Jr. and (on occasion) Ignacio (Nachi) Ortigas, and myself, would meet on Sunday afternoons in Rafa’s house at Wack Wack, have merienda, and discuss, for three or four hours, history, current events, and any other matters that arose. In these discussions, Beniting demonstrated a mastery of numerous subjects; as a consequence we dubbed him the “Walking Encyclopedia”. Our wives rarely joined us as they would form their own group and had their own favorite subjects to discuss. As Beniting had joined the World Bank and the IMF as a consultant, for a number of years he, Lita, their only daughter Isabel (with her yaya Lilia), and Lita’s mother resided at Bethesda, Maryland, in the United States. They would come home to Manila only for the Christmas holidays. Sometime in the early 1990s, Beniting and Lita returned to the Philippines for good while Isabel took up her college studies at Harvard, and then stayed to complete her studies in the Boston and New York areas. Isabel became a doctor like her mother, though she chose the field of anaesthesiology, and married an American lawyer from Boston. For BusinessWorld, Isabel has written a moving personal tribute to her father which can be read here: www.bworldonline.com/a-daughters-words In 2007, I got a call from Mariano (Nito) Cacho asking me to join him, Rolf Lietz, Dieter Reichert and Alfredo Roca to establish a new society for Philippine map collectors. I then invited Beniting to also join PHIMCOS as one of the first members of our Society, which he did.

Beniting Legarda was a renowned and meticulous scholar who wrote the definitive economic history of the Philippines from the 17th to the early-20th centuries, books on the opening days of the Philippine-American War

and life in occupied Manila during World War II, and many articles on related subjects. In the article which follows this obituary, Dr. Jaime Laya reviews his most important books. Jonathan Best remembers Beniting Legarda as an old friend and loyal supporter of the Ortigas Foundation Library, especially for his contribution to their book on the history of Spanish-era churches in the Philippines: One of the lifelong dreams of Rafael Ortigas Jr. was to document all the Spanish-era churches remaining in the Philippines. He sent out a team of photographers to record every edifice that could be found, and planned to publish the photographs with a short history and guide to the churches. Unfortunately, he passed away before La Casa de Dios could be published, but the family decided to move ahead with the project as a fitting tribute to him. I was asked to be the editor and we recruited five scholars to assist Fr. René B. Javellana in writing an authoritative, historical text. As an old friend of Rafa's, Beniting generously offered to write the chapter on the churches of the City of Manila. The thought of having to edit Beniting's writing was a bit intimidating for me as he had a reputation as an exacting and somewhat imperious scholar and, occasionally, a combative participant in the many lectures and symposiums he regularly attended. Fortunately for me, the chapter he turned in was so well written and researched it was practically ready for printing. When I called to thank him and go over a few typos and even a faulty date he could not have been more gracious and professional in his responses to my questions and minor corrections. My biggest challenge was whether to ask him to tone down his rather grim recounting of every Japanese atrocity committed at the various churches he was documenting. Our book was intended to be a celebration of the beautiful architectural and ecclesiastical legacy left by the Spanish in the Philippines, and the massacres of priests and parishioners during ‘Liberation’ in February 1945 was jarring; sheltering religious and civilians were summarily executed, buried alive, intentionally blown-up with hand grenades or barricaded inside churches and burned alive. After some thought I decided not to ask Beniting to tone it

down as his first-hand accounting of that period was too important as a primary source of information to go unrecorded. Almost all the Spanish-era churches he described in Manila were either destroyed in the war or seriously damaged afterwards by careless reconstruction or ill-conceived renovations. Beniting did not hesitate to criticize church officials who bulldozed the ancient facades of burned-out churches in Intramuros which could have been saved. He kept a description of Santa Ana Church for the conclusion of his chapter, ending on a happier note. After documenting its many treasures ─ paintings, carvings and unique architectural details ─ and the years of professional work that went into renovating and conserving the church, he eloquently ends his chapter by citing Santa Ana as a "vibrant reminder of the vanished artistic glories of old Manila". Beniting himself was a vibrant reminder of the rich history of old Manila, and an indefectible recorder of history, whether tragic or sublimely beautiful.

Chari Montilla recounts the tragic events of his last days: Beniting became a widower in October, 2015 and would live alone in his home in Greenhills accompanied by the house help. On August 6 he celebrated his 94th birthday. A week later I received a call from Lilia telling me that “Señorito was short of breath”, but was refusing to go to the hospital. I immediately called the doctor, whom we share, who confirmed that he had to go to the hospital. I had to give Beniting the bad news, and he acceded to my request. Upon arrival, it was discovered that he had all the symptoms of the Covid-19 virus. As the hospital was full he stayed in the tent set up by the hospital for some time before he finally got a room through the special efforts of his niece, Atty. Katrina Legarda. As there was no private nurse available, his driver volunteered to stay with him. At first he was doing well, with the help of high-flow oxygen, but a few days later Beniting began to go downhill. On the morning of August 26 I got a call from the doctor to say that he was being brought to the ICU for intubation. At around 10:30 p.m. that same day the doctor called me again to tell me he had just passed away.

I could not believe it! He went so fast! I thought of his daughter and her family being so far away from him and sent her a text. All throughout, I had been in touch with Isabel and Katrina regarding all his needs. I kept thinking about the good moments we had together which we would never have again. He had such a brilliant mind … and he was gone … just like that!?! A feeling of sadness came over me. Goodbye for now, Beniting – iHasta la vista!

After the news of Beniting’s passing was announced, PHIMCOS received a flood of messages from members recalling their memories and the special role he had played in our society: I did not have the fortune to interact with him nearly enough. His passing will be a big loss to us and Philippine society. ─ Andoni Aboitiz When I look back at the first time I met Dr. Legarda, he struck me as imposing, larger than life and extremely worldly. I always tried to anticipate what questions he would or could ask me when I gave presentations. His guffaws and grins were a big part of the PHIMCOS meetings. ─ Marga Binamira Sad news for the members of a small society as well-knit as PHIMCOS. ─ Robin Bridge He had so many anecdotes! I remember one of my first PHIMCOS meetings, at which he told us how he would rummage through the second-hand bookshops in New York, and find Alexander Dalrymple charts on sale for just a few dollars. ─ Peter Geldart Sad passing of a notable character and historian. I had the chance to meet him briefly a couple of times this year as we had so many Battle of Manila 75th anniversary events before the world closed in. Benito was clearly a feisty man to whom age was just a number. ─ Ian Gill I will always remember Beniting as a sharp and astute ‘historian’ friend, and we spent many an interesting discussion long before he joined Nito and me as one of the very first members of PHIMCOS. Every piece and every nook in his house had a story to tell. His books will remain reference material for years to come! ─ Rolf Lietz

He was a most remarkable man. We have lost a giant, among the last of a generation that endured and witnessed the many challenges of the 20th Century. ─ Carlos Madrid We have lost a living institution. ─ Francisco Romero Milán With the passing of Dr. Legarda I lost the last ‘reader over my shoulder.’ Whenever I write or prepare a lecture I always think of my father (would he understand or enjoy it?) and Dr. Legarda, who would send an email a day after a column appeared to comment, correct, or simply engage and make me think about the topic more deeply. ─ Ambeth Ocampo Beniting was of the old school. He had gentlemanly manners, gracious and knowledgeable conversation, and social graces. Formidable as his credentials in economics and history were, older than me as he was, we forged an unlikely friendship despite coming from different milieus. As a friend he was thoughtful, helpful, correct and encouraging. This had to do with my weekly columns, our political opinions, books, art, music, and other mutual interests.

He also had a sense of humor that was quite contagious and exhilarating. Naturally, I learned much from him as he was a generous source of information and historical antecedents. But what was most warming was his including me in his universe, which I enjoyed and learned so much from. ─ Maribel Ongpin So sad to hear of the passing of our towering figure Beniting. Whenever one of us was presenting in front of the membership, we would shudder when Beniting would bellow from the back to correct a historical comment by the presenter. We will miss him dearly. ─ Vince Perez Beniting was one of the few remaining links I had to a generation that means much to me. His presence and his writing will be missed. ─ Felice Sta. Maria We learned many things from him over the years and enjoyed his visits when he came to Hong Kong. He was a man of knowledge. ─ Jonathan & Vicky Wattis 

Benito J. Legarda, Jr., Ph.D. (1926-2020) Historian by Jaime C. Laya

N YOUR mind’s eye, Manila will look different after reading the contributions of Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr. to Philippine history.

Stand on a Santa Mesa intersection, now informal settler country. A hundred twenty years ago, it was rice fields as far as the eye could see, columns of smoke rising from burning villages. In a nearby pot-holed street, young men lay dead, having given up their lives for Philippine independence. Further on, by a parking lot, G-stringed Aetas armed with bow and arrow fought side by side with Aguinaldo’s volunteers. Pass that wide street near Jones Bridge, imagine when it was a Plaza, and eavesdrop on New England Yankees negotiating for the release of an ice shipment. A Senator’s wife and child bled to death on this Malate corner 75 years ago while, across the Pasig, men, women and children ─ just skin and bones ─ were celebrating deliverance. A social scientist and economist by training and with a distinguished career in economic policy formulation, Legarda’s interests also led him to write on history and culture. His works reveal a curious, disciplined, logical, and critical mind, that checks and cross-checks printed and archival material in English, Spanish and Tagalog, personal interviews and a prodigious memory, until facts are established. He was also an accomplished writer, producing riveting and authoritative narratives that cover qualitative and quantitative facets of the subject at hand.

After the Galleons (Ateneo de Manila University Press, Quezon City, 1999) is a signal contribution to Philippine economic history, covering the opening of the Philippines to international trade, the beginning of commercial agriculture, and the expansion of an entrepreneurial middle class. Based on Legarda’s Harvard University Ph.D. thesis, the book is the product not only of printed sources but also of public and private archival documents in the Philippines and the United States, New England being the origin of the largest and most active Manila trading houses. Statistics back Legarda’s account of the Philippines as a new participant in foreign trade; the decline of the textile and rice industries (we exported rice to China and California); expansion of the sugar, hemp, tobacco, coffee, and other commercial crops; and the rise of entrepreneurship. These brought wealth to a new indio, mestizo and sangley ilustrado class that allowed them to give their sons a European education, planting the seeds of the Philippine Revolution.

Legarda’s major works cover the period of Philippine economic restructuring when the Galleon Trade began to slow down in the 1700s and finally ceased in 1815; the very first battles of the Filipino-American War from the evening of February 4, 1899 till the afternoon of the following day that took place in Manila’s Santa Mesa and Sampaloc districts; and life and death in Manila during World War II, from December 1941 to February 1945.

Bridge but on a road between Blockhouse 6 and Blockhouse 7, now the narrow (and misspelled) Sosiego Street some two kilometers away from San Juan Bridge as the crow flies. He also explains that the Sagrada Familia church off G. Tuason Street was the site of Balic-Balic Cemetery and Blockhouse 5, where a pivotal battle took place. Maps show where the now-forgotten blockhouses were located. Built by the Spanish and captured by Filipinos, these were military outposts sheltering 25 to 40 soldiers on the Manila boundary from Vitas in the north to Fort San Antonio Abad on Roxas Boulevard. Americans controlled Manila, and Filipinos the blockhouses and the territory beyond.

The Hills of Sampaloc (Bookmark, Manila, 2001) is an authoritative account of the fighting during the first two days of the Filipino-American War and of its impact on the local population. The Legarda family owned much of Sampaloc district and the author explains that he “was attracted to the topic by the involvement of the neighborhood where I grew up”. This small book was written from primary sources: soldiers’ memoirs and letters; official reports; state archives of Colorado, Nebraska, South Dakota and Utah, the home of men who volunteered to fight; and journalists’ dispatches. The side of the Malolos Republic is not as well documented, but Legarda draws inferences and conclusions on the basis of available information. He also provides extensive background, including the debate in America on the morality of colonizing the Philippines. Among other things, Legarda notes how, favoring American withdrawal, industrialist Andrew Carnegie offered to reimburse the U.S. government the US$20 million paid to Spain under the Treaty of Paris. One can tell that Legarda was interested in maps, truly a PHIMCOS member. Unusual among Philippine historians, many events in Legarda’s works are location-specific. He writes and shows exactly where the first shot of the Filipino-American War was fired, not at San Juan

Occupation: 1942-1945 (Vibal Foundation, Inc., Manila, 2016) is a compilation of Legarda’s articles narrating conditions in Manila and events in the Philippines during the Japanese Occupation. They are drawn from the personal experiences of the author, his family, relatives and friends, told against the larger backdrop of military, political and social history. The articles are arranged chronologically and effectively picture the changing conditions and mindset: the entire range of contentment, alarm, panic, resistance, hope, resignation, anticipation, despair, and celebration. The book conveys, as few others do, the panorama of World War II in Manila from the bombing of Pearl Harbor on December 8, 1941 through the Liberation that ironically also destroyed the government, commercial and prime residential centers of Manila from February 3 to March 3, 1945. More than personal anecdotes, the book is the product of meticulous research. It traces the invasion of the Japanese, the Filipino-American resistance in Corregidor and Bataan, the Death March, the hardships of civilian life during the three years under the Japanese, the guerrilla resistance movement, the fulfilment of Douglas MacArthur’s promise “I shall return”, and the consequent death of 100,000 civilians, many from eyewitness accounts. Philippine history is so much the richer for the life and work of Dr. Benito J. Legarda, Jr.

Addenda et Corrigenda

N ISSUE No. 9 we stated that one of the earliest cartographic appearances of Baguio is on the 1882 Carta Itineraria de la Isla de Luzon by Don Anselmo Olleros. However, an article in the Baguio Midland Courier, spotted by Popo Lotilla, has pushed back the cartographic origin of Baguio by half a century. In “Baguio – the origin of a geographical name”, James Paw quotes from Dr. Otto Scheerer’s article “On Baguio’s Past” (in The Archive, Accessory Paper No. 1, Manila, 1931-32), as follows: “The name Baguio, spelled phonetically, presents itself as the Inibaloy term bagyu [or bagiw in contemporary spelling], which denotes ... that submerged slimy waterplant with floating leaves that is known to botany as Potamogeton [pondweed], and to the Tagalog as lumot. Old inhabitants [of Baguio] assured me that this was the name given formerly to the watery bottom of the Kisad valley between Baguio and Trinidad although none of them could tell how it had come to apply to the locality now so designated. … Baguio bore in

olden times the name of Kafagway (Iloco kapaway … grassy clearing) which alludes to the center of the Baguio basin”.

Paw then points out that the first time the name “Bagíu” is known to appear on a map is on the Déstacamento dé Pangasinang – Proyécto de Establecímíento en los Montes del Tente Corl Dn Guimo dé Galwéy, résultado dé sus Expediciones. Año 1834. This manuscript map, which shows towns, waterways, and military detachments in the mountains leading to Benguet, is in the Archivo del Museo Naval in Madrid. This was one of the maps shown to the PHIMCOS group when we visited the AMN last year, although none of us spotted the name at the time.

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At the AMN in Madrid we also saw two charts by Don José Francisco Badaraco, “Maestro Delineador por S.M. de esta Real Academia de Pilotos, en el Departamento de Cádiz". The first, Plano de las Yslas Philipinas, en punto cresido, para la mejor inteligencia de las dos Derrotas antigua, y nueba, como assi mismo su buelta à Acapulco (AMN 58-11) is on our front cover.

Detail showing “Bagíu” from Déstacamento dé Pangasinang by Don Guillermo de Galwéy, 1834 (Archivo del Museo Naval de Madrid MN-78-19) ──────────────

The second Badaraco chart was Plano de la Navegacion que executa la Nao de China desde Acapulco, à las Islas Philipinas, con exprecion de la derrota que deve executar à el puerto de Lampon, segun lo proyectado, y relacionado por el fiscàl de la Real Audiencia de Manila, yassi mismo su buelta (AMN 68-15). In all probability, these were the maps copied by Richard William Seale in A Voyage Round the World in the Years MDCCXL, I, II, III, IV, Commodore George Anson's account of his circumnavigation in 1740-44 during which he captured the Acapulco galleon Nuestra Señora de Covadonga. A Voyage was first published in 1748, and in volume III, chapter VIII Anson recounts the capture of the charts: I shall only add that there was taken on board the galeon several draughts and journals. … Among [these] there was found a chart of all the ocean between the Philippines and the coast of Mexico, which was what was made use of by the galeon in her own navigation.

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Richard Jackson has sent a correction to his article “Nomadic Papua” (Issue No. 9): On his 1548 map India Tercera Nova Tabula, Giacomo Gastaldi attaches the name “Negros” to a small island next to “Cubu”. Only in his later maps does he use Papua (not Negros). So it looks as if Pigafetta's reference to “Panilongon where black people like those of Ethiope live” was, after all, Gastaldi’s source. 11

Expedición a Joló 1876

Baltasar Giraudier’s Drawings of a Spanish Incursion into Jolo by Jaime C. González

N JULY 9, 1521, approximately three months after Magellan’s ill-fated encounter in Mactan, Juan Sebastián Elcano and Antonio Pigafetta landed in the port of Brunei. In the course of their stay, they were informed by the natives that “the king had two pearls as large as two hens eggs, and they were so round that they will not stand still on a table”.(1) From Brunei, they headed east by south to continue their search for the island of Molucca. Avoiding reefs along the way, around September 1521 they found: …entering another sea, … two islands, Jolo and Taghima, which lie toward the west, and near which pearls were found. The two pearls of the king of Brunei (2) were found there, and the king got them, as was told us, in the following manner. That king took to wife a daughter of the king of Jolo, who told him that her father had those two pearls. The king determined to get possession of them by whatever means. Going one night with five hundred praus, he captured the king and two of his sons, and took them to Brunei. If the king of Jolo wished to regain his freedom, he had to surrender the two pearls to him.(3)

I conjecture that, notwithstanding any possible questions on the veracity of the story regarding the two pearls,(4) this episode of Elcano and Pigafetta marked the first encounter between the Moros and the Spaniards, which opened the eyes of the then prospective colonizers to the riches of the Sulu archipelago. Thereafter, the incursions by the Spaniards into Jolo started with the first attack of Captain Esteban Rodríguez de Figueroa in June 1578, coming at the heels of his campaign against Brunei.(5) The book Expedición a Joló 1876 by Baltasar Giraudier, with the subtitle Bocetos (6) del Cronista del Diario de Manila, was dedicated by the author to the then Governor General of the colony, Admiral José Malcampo. Giraudier accompanied the admiral on the expedition to find out if the terms of the 1851 Treaty of Jolo (7)

Title page of Expedición a Joló 1876 by Baltasar Giraudier

were being carried out. Giraudier was a wellknown French-Filipino artist and writer (although some sources claim that he was a peninsular).(8) He was a Director, illustrator and cronista (chronicler) for the broadsheet publication Diario de Manila,(9) hence the subtitle to the book. Admiral José Malcampo y Monge, the third Marqués de San Rafael, served briefly as Prime Minister of Spain (October – December 1871) in recognition of his participation in the revolution that deposed the Spanish Monarchy and Queen Isabela II, resulting in the First Spanish Republic. His first campaign into the Sulu archipelago was in 1853 when, as a young 25-year old lieutenant,

he led 70 troops to invade the islands of Simisa, Balanguingui and Tunkil. In Taguima, he took almost 200 prisoners, including women and children, with loot of textiles, pearls, turtle shells, resins, sea cucumber, cannons and other armaments.(10) In the process, he destroyed the town, its crops and woodlands. In June 1874 he was appointed supreme commander of the Philippines as contralmirante de la armada (rear admiral). He was Governor General of the Philippines from 1874 to 1877. The book itself contains 38 tinted lithographed images of Zamboanga and the island of Jolo in addition to the title page. The images show beautifully and intricately designed depictions of the panorama of Jolo, facets of life in the island and selected aspects of the expedition. In his dedication on the initial page, Giraudier refers to the “brief but horrific expedition” but expresses his overwhelming gratefulness for having been included in the group:

When publishing the bocetos, I fulfill the most pleasing of duties, dedicating them to your Excellency as the weakest expression of the appreciation with which I am your Excellency’s respectful and dependable servant.(11)

A map of Jolo and the adjacent islands, Carta de la Isla de Joló y sus Adyacentes levantada en 1874 por la Comision Hidrografica al mando del Capitan de Fragata Dn. Pascual Cervera was published by the Dirección de Hidrografía in Madrid in 1877. It is interesting that a comparison with the updated one from Google Earth shows the uncanny accuracy of the map drawn almost 150 years ago. The sensitivity of the artist in Giraudier is clearly seen in his depiction and portrayal of the beautiful views in Expedición a Joló 1876. Zamboanga (12) was the strategic location of the Spanish fort first built in 1569 to contain the passage of pirates from Jolo and the southern

Carta de la Isla de Joló y sus Adyacentes …, Dirección de Hidrografía, Madrid (1877) (image courtesy of the Biblioteca Nacional de España, ref. H._697)

Rada y Villa de Zamboanga by Baltasar Giraudier

coast of Mindanao. His description of the city appropriately fits his view of the bay and town Rada y Villa de Zamboanga, attributing to her the honor as the most privileged town in all of Oceania. Like those of the island of Jolo and Zamboanga, his depiction of the town of Paticolo, the point of disembarkation of Malcampo’s troops on February 25, 1876, is likewise quite quixotic; he says that “it could not be more beautiful, seen with the eyes of the artist and even with those of poetry”.(13) Giraudier shows the tranquil view of Jolo just before its destruction by the Spanish forces. A few hours after, the town was reduced to a pile of ashes and burnt wood. The image of the burning of Jolo is quite dramatic, and it is one of the outstanding lithographs in the book. The motivation for Malcampo’s expedition was no different from that of the other assaults by the Spaniards on the island. The stated reasons were the frustration due to the history of failed invasions as well as the need to restrain the activities of the Moros, who continued to challenge the sovereignty of Spain; they persisted with piracy in the Sulu Sea, and they allegedly violated the Treaty of Jolo of 1851.(14) The 1851 treaty, which was entered into after the successful attacks on Balanguingui in 1848 (see page 19) and on Jolo in 1851, specified that the Sultan could regain his capital if Sulu and its dependencies became part of the Philippines under the sovereignty of Spain. As frequently

happens, there were fundamental differences in the understanding of the parties to the treaty. Spain understood that the Sultan accepted Spanish sovereignty over Sulu and Tawi-Tawi. The Sultan, on the other hand, took it as a friendly treaty among equals. The Spanish claim was undermined by the fact that Spain only partially controlled the area and its power was limited to military stations and garrisons, with pockets of civilian settlements. There were 16 attempts by the Spaniards to invade Jolo over a period of over 300 years, starting in 1578. Only five of these resulted in the capture of the town: Captain Esteban Rodríguez de Figueroa in 1578, GovernorGeneral Sebastián Hurtado de Corcuera in 1638, General Ignacio Iriberri in 1731, GovernorGeneral Juan Antonio de Urbiztondo in 1851 and, finally, Admiral José Malcampo in 1876. In all five cases the Spaniards burned down the town and, with the exception of Malcampo’s expedition, the invading forces left the island after a short period of time. In the meantime, there continued to be attempts by other foreign invaders to gain some control over the area, particularly from the 18th century “when the island of Jolo had become a major center for cross-cultural trade”.(15) These included the treaty Alexander Dalrymple signed in 1761 with the reigning Sultan of Sulu (later countersigned by the old sultan, held captive in Manila), the trading alliances between the Sultanate of Sulu and the British East India Company in 1764-1824, and the French blockade of Basilan in 1844-1845.

Vista de Joló, en el momento en que la fragata Carmen dá la Señal á la escuadra de romper el fuego sobre las Cottas by M. Teruel & Baltasar Giraudier

The expedition of 1876 was by far the largest and most expensive, consisting of 9,000 to 11,000 troops inclusive of 864 volunteers from Zamboanga and 464 from Kagayan de Misamis. This force was supported by 10 steamships, 11 transports and several gunboats. This compares with the total military force in the Philippines in January 1888 of only 12,800 men of whom 1,400 were Spaniards. At the time of the invasion, there were then supposedly only 6,000 Moros in Jolo (and, interestingly, 500 Chinese). Malcampo had to raise 250,000 pesetas (16) from the public to finance the expedition, and this included contributions from the Ayuntamiento de Manila, the religious orders of Dominicans, Franciscans and Augustinian Recoletos, students of the University of Santo Tomas, the Colegio de los Jesuitas, Inchausti y Compañia, and various individuals, some of whose names are still known today, including: D. Antonio de Ayala, D. Telesforo Chiuidian, D. Macaria Tecson, D. Gonzalo Tuason, and D. Ignacio Rocha. Curiously, the list also referred to a D. Ramón Aenille who was said to be un contratista de los fumadores de opia (a contractor for opium smokers).(17) The group also included five imbedded journalists one of whom was Baltasar Giraudier. The expedition left Manila for Zamboanga on February 5, 1876. The jumping-off point for Jolo was on February 19 in Zamboanga. Three days later the troops disembarked in Paticolo, where they encountered stiff resistance from the Moros. Many of the soldiers suffered from the heat and the lack of drinking water, and many

were lost in the forest due to the absence of knowledge about the terrain. In any case, from Paticolo the troops proceeded on their scorched earth strategy to the towns of Liang, Tapul, Lacul, Lapac, Maibun and Parang where they essentially burned the towns, houses and docks. The siege of Jolo ended on April 9. Unlike previous incursions, this time a Spanish settlement with a garrison was established and Captain Pascual Cervera was appointed as military governor. Today, one can find in the National Museum in Jolo a commemorative marker of the first mass for the expedition that was celebrated there on April 5, 1876.(18) Malcampo was granted the titles of Count of Jolo and Viscount of Mindanao as victory titles. A Treaty of Peace between Spain and the Sultanate of Sulu was signed on July 22, 1876. Apart from giving Spain complete sovereignty over the Sulu archipelago, a primary aim of the treaty was to exclude Great Britain, Germany and other foreign nations from the Spanish sphere of influence over the zone; it was meant to secure undisputed Spanish control over the foreign affairs and commerce of Sulu. There was no intention on the part of Spain to assume control over its internal affairs, and the Sultan was left supreme in the exercise of his authority over the Moros. However, there again seemed to be fundamental differences in the parties' understanding of the agreement. The treaty had two versions. The English translation of Article 1 of the Spanish text states: “We declare that the sovereignty of Spain over all the Archipelago of Sulu and its

dependencies is indisputable.” On the other hand, the translation of the Sulu text of the same Article 1 states: “All the people of Sulu and its Archipelago shall obey only the King of Spain, Alfonso XII, or whosoever shall succeed him. This being our wish, we will not change or turn away to any other nation.” The scholar Najeeb Saleeby states that: The status of Sulu as defined by this treaty resembled that of a protectorate rather than a dependency. The internal administration of Sulu, its customs, laws, and religion were fully respected and were not subject to Spanish jurisdiction, confirmation, approval, or interference of any sort, except in matters pertaining to regulations for the use of firearms.(19)

Although Expedición a Joló 1876 was dated May 1, 1876 and dedicated to Malcampo, Giraudier actually presented it in 1880 to the then Governor-General Domingo Moriones y Murillo (who himself was the signatory to the Treaty of Peace). Giraudier reported that the terms of the 1851 Treaty of Jolo could not be carried out to Spain’s advantage, and its failure

to observe the treaty provoked the Sultan and the Sulus to “impatience, resistance and a rebellious attitude”. He further stated that the expedition of 1876 was held at a great cost to Spain in men and money, that these expeditions could not be justified, and hostilities were often provoked for ulterior motives. He called the attention of the authorities to the necessity of a faithful observance of the terms of treaties in order to demand the right and respect of a reciprocal observance of such treaties by the Moros. He also cited the need for defining the policy of Spain relative to Sulu and the Moros. Unfortunately, Cervera was followed by 13 other military governors until 1899, by when Spain had ceded the Philippines to the United States and the Americans arrived in Jolo. The frequent changes in governors resulted in the failure to institute a permanent policy for Sulu. This article is based on the presentation given to PHIMCOS by the author on May 29, 2019. Unless otherwise stated, images are of the plates in the book in the author’s collection.

Incendio de los Pantalanes de Joló, durante la ocupacion total del ejército Español by Baltasar Giraudier

Notes & References 1.

The First Voyage Around the World (1519–1522) An Account of Magellan’s Expedition [by Antonio Pigafetta], Edited and Introduced by Theodore J. Cachey Jr. (University of Toronto Press, 2007), para. 124.

This refers to Sultan Bolkiah, the 5th Sultan of Brunei, whose father was Sultan Sulaiman; he ruled from 1485 to 1524, a period which was considered the Golden Age of Brunei. He married Laila Menchanai, the daughter of Sultan of Jolo Amir ul-Ombra and Datu Kemin. The present Sultan of Brunei is the 29th since the dynasty began in 1363.

Cachey op. cit., para 130. Taghima (aka Tagima or Taguima) is now known as Basilan. Praus refers to a type of sailboat with outriggers indigenous to Malaysia and Indonesia. The accompanying chart of Zzolo (Jolo), Tagima (Basilan), Subanin (Zamboanga) and Chavit (Cavite) shows a scroll with the legend: “Here the pearls are born”. Cachey op. cit., p. 75.

Pigafetta, the chronicler of Ferdinand Magellan, was said to exaggerate, reporting “hogs with navels on their haunches, clawless birds whose hens laid eggs on the backs of their mates, and still others, tongueless pelicans, with beaks like spoons”. He wrote of having seen “a misbegotten creature with the head and ears of a mule, a camel’s body, the legs of a deer and the whinny of a horse.” Nevertheless, the Columbian novelist Gabriel Garcia Márquez wrote that Pigafetta’s chronicle was “a strictly accurate account that nonetheless resembles a venture into fantasy”, with a writing style which he described as “marvelous realism” (as opposed to the “magical realism” for which the novelist was the major proponent). Cachey op. cit., Introduction pp. ix-x.

The Dasmariñases, Early Governors of the Spanish Philippines by John Newsome Crossley (Routledge, Abingdon-on-Thames, 2016), p. 19.

A boceto or bosquejo is an artist's preliminary sketch or freehand drawing.

The Treaty of Jolo, signed on April 30, 1851, followed the taking and destruction of the city by Spanish forces in late January 1851. The treaty included a formal recognition of Spanish sovereignty over the island of Jolo. See Treaties and Other International Acts of the United States of America compiled by David Hunter Miller (Washington D.C., 1931), vol. 4, p. 355.

Peninsular was the term used to refer to pure-blooded Spaniards born in Spain who were living in the colony; Spaniards born in the Philippines were called insulares.

The Diario de Manila was a Spanish language newspaper edited by Felipe del Pan and published by Ramirez y Compañia. Founded in 1848, the paper was closed down on February 19, 1898 after the colonial authorities discovered that its installations were being used to print revolutionary material.

10. Biography of José Malcampo y Monje (1828 – 1880) from Historia de la piratería malayo-mahometana en Mindanao, Joló y Borneo by José Montero y Vidal, (M. Tello, Madrid, 1888). 11. Expedición a Joló 1876; translation by the author. 12. Zamboanga has its derivation from the original name “Sambuwangan” or “Sambuangan”, which means “the place where one moors his boat” in the language of the native Sama-Bajau people. 13. “No podría ser más hermosa, vista con los ojos del artista y aun con los de la poesía”; author’s translation. 14. Montero y Vidal op. cit. 15. The Sulu Zone, the World Capitalist Economy and the Historical Imagination by James Francis Warren (Southeast Asian Studies, Vol. 35, No.2, September 1997). 16. This amount in 1876 was equivalent to US$40.5 million in today’s dollars in terms of “economic power”, a measurement based on the amount of income or wealth relative to the total output of the economy, i.e. its share of GDP; see MeasuringWorth.com. 17. The History of Sulu by Najeeb M. Saleeby (Bureau of Public Printing, Manila, 1908). 18. The legend on the marker reads: “Aquí se celebró la primera misa por el ejercito expedicionario de España el 5 de abril de 1876”. 19. Saleeby op. cit., pp. 227-240.

The Balanguingui Expedition of 1848 by Jaime C. González

IRACY in the Sulu archipelago was at its peak during the mid-19th century, and the south of Mindanao was the haven of Moro pirates in search for loot and prisoners. While the Sultanate of Sulu was well ensconced in Jolo, it did not have maritime supremacy in its territory. Since the early Sung period (960-1279), the growth of Chinese trade had rapidly grown, attracted by the rich marine resources in the area. The major trade, particularly since the founding of the sultanate in the 15th century, was in pearls and trepang (bêche-de-mer or sea cucumber). This caused an unprecedented demand for manpower, resulting in increased Moro raids to capture prisoners who were sold into slavery in Jolo as well as in the Dutch East Indies. Slavery existed from pre-Hispanic times and it was an important part of the sociopolitical and economic structure of the Sulu archipelago. The Balanguingui raids were indeed closely tied to the local economy.(1)

Balanguingui is a small island east of the island of Jolo of approximately nine square miles; covered with mangroves and jungle it had been described as a veritable swampy mess. In 1848 the population consisted of 10,000 inhabitants of which only about one-third were Samals. The rest pertained to other communities or were slaves or their descendants.(1) The Samals had emerged as a major piratical force in the archipelago.(2) Based in the islands of the Balanguingui group, they carried out their annual raids on the coastal settlements in Mindanao, the Visayas, as far north as towns in Luzon, and as far down as the central Moluccas. Croquis de la Ysla de Balanguingui y sus adyacentes en el Archipielago de Joló. Destruidos sus fuertes y poblaciones por las armas del Egército y Armada Naval de Filipinas, las primeras al inmediato mando del Ex’mo. S’or. D. Narciso Claveria, Capitan General de aquellos dominios …, pen-and-ink and watercolor by J. Espejo, 1849 (Library of Congress G8062.S26 1848.E8)

Detail from Croquis de la Ysla de Balanguingui showing the Fort of Sipac (Library of Congress G8062.S26 1848.E8)

In 1848, Governor-General Narciso Clavería y Zaldúa organized an amphibious campaign to capture Balanguingui and to end the rampant piracy once and for all. He raised a substantial force comprising 19 warships and three regular infantry companies, supplemented with more vessels and auxiliaries from Zamboanga. During a period of seven days from the 16th to the 22nd of February 1848, the Spanish forces threw the full strength of their expedition at the Moro settlements, starting with the heavy bombardment of the four Samal forts: Balanguingui, Sipac, Sungap and Bocutingol.

Although the Spanish forces suffered substantial casualties of 229 to 237 killed or wounded, it was a complete rout of the pirates’ lair, resulting in 340 Samal dead, 150 garays (the traditional native warships of the Balanguingui people) set on fire, seven villages burned, 7,000 to 8,000 coconut trees cut down, and the four forts destroyed. In addition, the Spaniards were able to release 550 captives, presumably destined for sale into slavery. The fighting was so one-sided that it was said that “the pirates, in their desperation, killed their families or rushed themselves against the Spanish bayonets”.(3)

Ataque a la isla y fuerte de Balanguingui (Filipinas), 16 de Febrero 1848, oil painting by Antonio Brugada, 1850 (Museo Naval de Madrid MNM-532)

The expedition of Governor-General Clavería was celebrated as a resounding success in Zamboanga and Manila. He was awarded the Cross of San Fernando and made Count of Manila and Viscount of Clavería by Queen Isabella II. It was another notable achievement by one who was described as a man of culture, probity and industry. Indeed, during his tenure in the Philippines, from 1844 to 1849, he brought the first steamships to the country (which proved essential in his expedition to Balanguingui), and successfully accomplished the adoption of surnames by the Filipinos by issuing a decree with the list of Spanish and local surnames in the Catálogo Alfabético de Apellidos in 1849.

Clavería also reformed the Philippine calendar, by skipping over Tuesday, December 31, 1844; Monday, December 30, 1844 was followed immediately by Wednesday, January 1, 1845. The change was necessary to correct the Magellan expedition’s one-day discrepancy; Antonio Pigafetta, who kept careful count of each day, did not realize that by continuously traveling westward in their long voyage they had gained time. The Spanish authorities had retained the international date line bulging to the west in order to keep the Philippines on the same calendar as New Spain. After Mexico became independent in 1821, it became more logical for the Philippines to align its calendar with its trading partners in Asia.

References 1. “Moro Piracy during the Spanish Period and Its Impact” by Domingo M. Non, in Southeast Asian Studies, Vol. 30, No. 4 (Kyoto University, March 1993). 2. “ Samal ─ History and Cultural Relations” by Clifford Sather, in Encyclopedia of World Culture, Volume V ─ East and Southeast Asia, edited by Paul Hockings (G.K. Hall & Co., New York, 1993). 3. Historia del archipiélago y sultanía de Joló, y noticia de la expedición española que a las órdenes del Marqués de la Solana, acaba de destruir a los piratas Joloanos, by José García de Arboleya (M. Soler y Gelada, Habana, 1851).

WATTIS FINE ART Est. 1988

The Sultan of Sulu returning from the plain back of Jolo accompanied by his Umbrella bearer and Betel Nut Box bearer c.1910

www.wattis.com.hk Antique maps, prints, photographs, postcards, paintings & books

T H E C OV E T E D 176 0 R E I S S U E O F

Murillo Velarde’s 1734 Carta Hydrographica SHOWS THE ISLAND CONTESTED BY CHINA - P A N A C O T ( S C A R B O R O U G H S H O A L ) O F F Z A M B A L E S

The Kingly Treasures Auction 2020 28 November 2020, 2 PM Pedro Murillo Velarde (1696 - 1753) Carte Hydrographique & Chorographique des Isles Philippines Dedicated to the Catholic Majesty by the Governor-General Fernando Valdés Tamon . . . Copied from the 1734 edition with some changes and in reduced format by George Maurice Lowitz, Professor of Mathematics in Nuremberg in 1750 . . . Published by the firm of Homann Heirs in 1760 . . . [the original was engraved by Nicolas de la Cruz de Bagay, a Tagalog Indio, in Manila in 1734] Nuremberg, 1760 hand-colored copperplate engraving 36 1/2” x 21” (93 cm x 53 cm)

FOR INQUIRIES, PLEASE CONTACT US AT +632 8856 2781 | info@leon-gallery.com | leongallerymakati@gmail.com G/F Eurovilla 1, Rufino corner Legazpi Street, Legazpi Village, Makati City, Philippines WWW.LEON-GALLERY.COM

A View of the Island of Sooloo. Lat 6oN. Simon Hammar 1761 by Peter Geldart

N JUNE 2013 I spotted an interesting item for sale at Dominic Winter Specialist Auctioneers in Gloucestershire. The lot was described thus: Naval ephemera. Haminan (Simon), A View of the Island of Sooloo, Lat. 6oN. 1761, original pen & ink panoramic profile of the island with a large and ornate decorative title cartouche, old folds and creasing, frayed with some loss but with minimal damage to the image. Sooloo is situated to the east of Borneo and Java and to the south of the Philippines. When this drawing was made the principal – and most sought after – industry was pearl fishing. The Spanish had been ejected from the island archipelago in the 1750s and the British were undoubtedly keen to establish trading links. This fine, early and detailed drawing was probably executed by a British naval officer sketching from the deck of his ship.

The location and date of this manuscript nautical view were immediate clues to its origins, especially after a close look at the image showed the signature to be Simon “Hammar” (not “Haminan”). I became convinced that the drawing was made on the schooner Cuddalore, the ship on which Alexander Dalrymple made his first voyage to the Philippines in 1759-62.

The evidence is circumstantial, but for a start the place and time are right. Having spent 1760 in China and Vietnam, Dalrymple arrived in Sulu (from Manila) in January 1761; he then proceeded south to carry out coastal surveys of islands in Indonesia. The Cuddalore returned to Sulu (via Macassar) in April 1761 and carried on charting and surveying the islands and coasts. In October Dalrymple took his ship to Zamboanga, where he met the Spanish Governor Don Manuel Galves, before returning to Madras via Manila and Palawan in January 1762.(1) Dalrymple did not have A View of the Island of Sooloo engraved or published, and it is not to be found in the lists of Dalrymple’s works published by Andrew C.F. David (2) and Andrew S. Cook.(3) However, on 24 Sep. 1781 Dalrymple did publish Views of Negros and Mageendanao by AD, a sheet of nine views of which the last (and most attractive) is of Mageendanao / Samboangan, dated at left “Cuddalore Octr. 1761” and signed at right “S. Hammer” (sic). Both views are detailed, with an elegant style superior to most contemporary nautical views; Simon Hammar and S. Hammer are undoubtedly the same individual, although I have not found any other record of him having served on the Cuddalore.(4)

Another indication that A View of the Island of Sooloo was drawn on the Cuddalore is the chinoiserie cartouche, which strongly resembles the cartouche on the manuscript chart A Sketch of Part of the Coast of Mindoro Island Laid down from Observations in the Cuddalore in January 1761 [by] A Dalrymple held in the United Kingdom Hydrographic Department in Taunton. To quote Mary Blewitt: “Among its hundreds of thou-sands of charts, the Admiralty holds 16 original manuscript surveys of areas of the East Indies drawn by Dalrymple on sheepskin. Some are without title or embellishment while others have elaborate chinoiserie title-pieces”.(5) These ornate cartouches were probably added later, perhaps on the voyage home. There is one important and fascinating detail. Although Dalrymple himself called his ship a schooner, technically she was a snow, “a small, fast, two-masted vessel (usually somewhat bigger than a schooner) similar to a brig, with

square sails on both masts and a fore-and-aft gaff sail hoisted on an extra trysail mast abaft the mainsail”.(6) At the righthand side of the cartouche there is a small drawing of a ship. Stephen Davies of the University of Hong Kong (and former Director of the Hong Kong Maritime Museum) has told me that this ship is, indeed, a snow, and therefore very possibly the only known image of the Cuddalore! A View of the Island of Sooloo measures some 27 cm x 107 cm, and is drawn on a sheet of Chinese mulberry or rice paper measuring 61.5 cm x 114 cm. Why it was not included in, or became separated from, Dalrymple’s large collection of charts and views of the Philippines is unknown; when I subsequently asked about the provenance, Dominic Winter replied that the consignor was “an elderly lady from Salisbury whose family may have worked in the antiques world”. On the day of the auction, I was the sole bidder for lot no. 264.

Notes & References (1) Howard T. Fry, Alexander Dalrymple and the Expansion of British Trade, The Royal Commonwealth Society Imperial Studies No. XXIX, Frank Cass and Company Limited, 1970. (2) Andrew C.F. David, A Catalogue of Charts and Coastal Views published by Alexander Dalrymple 1767-1808 privately, as Hydrographer to the East India Company (1779-1808), and as Hydrographer to the Admiralty (1795-1808) and their subsequent history (1767-1959), private publication, 1990. (3) Andrew S. Cook, Alexander Dalrymple (1737-1808), Hydrographer to the East India Company and to the Admiralty as Publisher: A Catalogue of Books and Charts, doctoral thesis, University of St. Andrews, 1992. (4) The name is not listed in A Biographical Index of the East India Company Maritime Service Officers, 1600-1834 by Anthony Farrington (The British Library, London 1999), but Stephen Davies has pointed out that in the Records of Fort St George, Public despatches from England, 1755-1756, vol. no.59 (Madras: Government of Tamil Nadu, 1970, p.107) there is a record of one Simon Hammer from Stockholm, a labourer, who arrived aboard the HEICS Stormont (Capt. Josiah Wilson) as part of a military draft for service with the Madras EIC in 1755. (5) Mary Blewitt, Surveys of the Seas; A Brief History of British Hydrography, Macgibbon & Kee, London, 1957. (6) The definition of a snow is from Wikipedia. 25

Naming the Philippines

The Upside-down 1554 Ramusio-Gastaldi Map by John L. Silva

N THE map of Southeast Asia by Giacomo Gastaldi first published in a book by Giovanni Battista Ramusio in 1554, one tiny island is named “Filipina” – the first time the name appears in any European map. There were reasons for the naming, and conjectures as to how that name, out of many, was chosen. There’s the simple fact that the Spanish explorer Ruy López de Villalobos (1500-43) named the island after Felipe, Prince of Asturias (the future King Philip II of Spain) in 1543. But who actually decided to use that name on the RamusioGastaldi map? The Portuguese explorer Vasco de Gama had made it to India (via the Cape of Good Hope and the Indian Ocean) in 1497, opening a new sea route to the financially fabled Spice Islands. This achievement did not escape the notice of the Republic of Venice, the declining entrepot for spices coming from the east and distributed to the rest of Europe. In 1521, a far-flung set of islands in the Pacific had been visited by the Portuguese explorer Ferdinand Magellan for the Spanish Crown. There was marked excitement for the expedition’s arrival; after over a year of sailing and almost being shipwrecked, the explorers seemed to have arrived at the Spice Islands. But Magellan’s venture was ill-starred. Having arrived, he named the islands Islas de San Lazaro and began demanding fealty from the natives for his king. Some obeyed, while others objected, and Magellan was subsequently killed in a battle with the natives of Mactan Island. Only one ship and 18 crew members eventually made it back to Spain via the Spice Islands and the Cape of Good Hope, the achievement affirming to cartographers that, as suspected, the world was spherical. Exploring the Islas de San Lazaro was shelved for a while; a decade later, the Spanish Crown sent a series of expeditions which were failures until

Detail showing the island “Filipina” from the Ramusio-Gastaldi woodblock map of 1554

that of Villalobos, which departed from New Spain (Mexico) and reached the islands in 1543. Villalobos was a toponymist, a person interested in naming sites and islands, including the Islas del Coral, Isla de los Reyes, and the islands he called Los Jardines and Arrecifes (“the reefs”). An island just off Mindanao, likely Leyte or Samar, he christened Filipina after the young Prince of Asturias. A bay in Mindanao which he liked he called Malaga after his hometown, even after the natives had told him the local name was Baganga. The island off southern Mindanao which the natives called Sarangani he named Antonia after Antonio de Mendoza y Pachego, the first Viceroy of New Spain, who had appointed him for the voyage. After rounding Mindanao and realizing its size, he gave the island the name Caesaria Caroli in honor of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V (King Charles I of Spain), the father of Prince Felipe. Villalobos wrote in his diary that the naming was appropriate “because the island was big, and the majesty of the name suited it”. Despite the Hispanized naming of the islands, whatever sort of grace and amity was expected to befall the natives did not materialize. Villalobos’s crew moved from island to island scrounging for food that the natives were not eager to share. Returning to the island now christened Filipina, Villalobos would encounter only tribal defiance, resulting in the death of 11 Spanish soldiers. Strong headwinds did not

Navigationi e Viaggi were sought after by merchants, captains, traders, travelers and, most of all, wealthy families and royal libraries throughout Europe.

Ruy López de Villalobos by Vicente Gómez Navas (after Eugenio Vivó) (image courtesy of Leon Gallery)

allow them to return to New Spain. Beset with hunger and more crew deaths, the fleet decided to sail south, where they surrendered to the Portuguese. Villalobos was jailed on the island of Amboyna (Ambon) in the Moluccas, where he died of a tropical fever in 1544. While imprisoned, he handed his diaries, maps and documents to his trusted crew, who eventually returned to Spain. His documents, either originals or copies, along with the documents of Antonio Pigafetta (Magellan’s chronicler), Vasco de Gama and other explorers of this area wound up in Venice, in the hands of Ramusio. The compilations of voyages were studied and reported to the Doge and the Grand Council. They sensed breakthroughs by the Portuguese and Spanish on the new spice routes which, in turn, were a counterweight to the encroaching Ottoman Empire now in control of the eastern Mediterranean and the spices and goods that traveled through the region. With this access Ramusio wrote an extensive three-volume book of voyages titled Delle Navigationi e Viaggi, with the first volume (published in 1550) dealing with Africa and Asia. Gastaldi, the cartographer and illustrator for the three volumes, had a long and productive working relationship with Ramusio, and also influenced many other cartographers. His maps and the many published editions of Delle 28

In his book Philippine Cartography 1320-1899, Carlos Quirino, National Artist of the Philippines for Historical Literature, pinpoints the first appearance of the map with the name Filipina in the second edition of the first volume of the Navigationi, published in 1554. The map was printed from a woodblock, but in 1557 that woodblock and many of the printed books and maps were destroyed by a fire in the printing establishment of Tommaso Giunti. The map was re-issued as a copperplate engraving, published in the third edition of the book in 1563. Copperplate engravings were an advancement in printing, delivering sharper prints with enhanced detail; copper plates, being more durable, could also print more copies of each map than could woodblocks. The map is interesting because it is oriented to the south or, in less scholarly language, “upside down”. Early Arabic maps with a southern orientation influenced European mapmakers to follow that convention, but the growing appeal of the North Star in navigational guidance, and the ascendancy of European cosmographers north of the equator, led to the north orientation eventually becoming the standard.

Woodblock map of Southeast Asia by Giacomo Gastaldi, from Giovanni Battista Ramusio’s Delle Navigationi e Viaggi, 1554

Copperplate map of Southeast Asia by Giacomo Gastaldi, from Giovanni Battista Ramusio’s Delle Navigationi e Viaggi, 1563 29

In this map, there are familiar names – from the upper right, the route to the Spice Islands most trafficked by the Portuguese: Sumatra, Malaca, Iava Magiore, Terenate and Tidore. Below that archipelago are Saragan (Sarangani), Vendanao, (Mindanao), Cyabu (Cebu), Paloba (Palawan), Archipelago de S. Lazaro and (to the east of Vendanao), Filipina. Further down (to the west and north) Syam, Pegu (Burma), Camboya, Cochinchina and Canton appear with, lower still, China and Cympagu (Japan). The map has sea monsters, often found in early medieval maps. When the world was still often thought of as flat, these sea creatures would be found at the edges of a map, near the abyss, or far out on the oceans. In this map, in the margins east and north of the Moluccas, around the Philippine archipelago, and amongst sailing ships, are reptilian sea creatures and a massivelooking turtle. Later historians attributed these sea creatures to the first sightings of whales, whose gigantic sizes may have equaled the length of the navigators’ ships. One sees fewer sea monsters in later-16th and 17th century maps as science was on the ascendancy and the world was deemed round, not flat, with no precipice at the edge or leviathans waiting in the deep. With so many names for the various parts of the archipelago – Islas de San Lazaro, Islas de los Reyes, Antonia, Ceasaria Caroli, Filipina and the other Spanish names for atolls, bays and reefs – one wonders how the name “Filipina” topped the list? The most likely to have decided to have “Filipina” carved on the woodblock is one of these three: Villalobos, Ramusio or Gastaldi. Scrutinizing the map, that name is the only nonindigenous name that appears in the region, as the names of the surrounding locales and kingdoms confirm. But Gastaldi and Ramusio are less likely to have chosen the name as both the cartographer and the writer were faithful to the local names throughout the map, with “Filipina” being distinctive and alien. In the preface to the Navigationi, Ramusio states that the coasts of the map "are drawn according to the marine charts of the Portuguese, and the inland parts are added according to the descriptions contained in the first volume of this book." The likely champion for the name must be Villalobos. In his Moluccas prison cell, sick with malaria, he packs all his diaries, maps, charts,

and documents and hands them over to his trusted crew, who have been allowed passage back to Spain. His documents eventually get to Ramusio in Venice, filled with his extensive explorations of the archipelago, the travails encountered, and probably the news of his death in the Moluccas. One letter implores Prince Felipe to care for his sons, in so doing reminding the Crown of its promise to give him a pension. Villalobos knows that Prince Felipe will soon be King; to have his name on a farflung island will be another title in which royalty can take pride, an endearment, and a reminder of the promised pension. Ramusio and Gastaldi may have figured that out too, and therefore chose “Filipina” as the name to be inscribed. Each of the above principals had his own particular reasons for naming this far-flung island in the Pacific Filipina. The people who then lived on these islands had not the faintest idea of the identity they were assuming. By the 17th century, Filipina became Las Yslas Filipinas in maps encompassing the three major island groups, Luzon, the Visayas and Mindanao. By then, Spaniards who were born on the islands were deemed Filipinos. Eventually, by the 19th century, the term “Filipino” began to be applied to the wealthy Filipinos and intelligentsia, while the greater masses would still be derogatively called “indios”. Soon, Filipino reformists, revolutionaries and the general population appropriated the name as their identification. In the wars against Spain and the United States, the name was embellished with “Republic of the Philippines”, and the “Filipino people” became the standard nomenclature with the exception of indigenous tribes throughout the islands and of Muslim (“Moro”) groups in Mindanao. A national anthem was composed, a pledge of allegiance adopted and, eventually, an independent government was established, all bearing the name of King Felipe II. Currently over 110 million Filipinos now identify themselves as such, with a government in a community of nations as the only one named after a colonizer king. The country could have been named for another figure, but when “Filipina” was inscribed for the first time in a 16th century map, the historical accounting of the islands began. This article is based on the presentation given to PHIMCOS by the author on August 14, 2019.

Vanishing Vegetables

Food History and Maps by Felice Prudente Sta. Maria

OPOGRAPHICAL and agricultural maps are useful in food history research. Taken together, the relationship of fresh water sources such as rivers and lakes to rice-rich flood plains becomes visually apparent, for instance. At a time when waterways were the dominant routes for trade and travel, maps before the 18th century give clues to how food reached population and commercial centers from its sources of production. Later maps indicate how roads and railways altered the food distribution routes. Demographic maps are helpful in understanding the expansion of feeding requirements. They are important when explaining the development of challenges to food security, and show how agricultural lands are converted for other uses because of population spread. The map (below) by Fr. Emanuele Blanco, Mapa Del Territorio De Bulacan ... Año de 1832, from the book Mapa general de las almas que administran los PP. Agustinos Calzados en estas Islas Filipinas (Imprenta de D. Miguel Sánchez, Manila, 1845) shows the rivers that provided early food routes to the capital via Manila Bay.

The Common Diet From as early as the Magellan-Elcano pioneering circumnavigation in 1521, the prestige meal in Philippine waters was all meat. Pigs and chickens were domesticated to provide food for special occasions and healing rituals. Shortly after Spanish settlement of the Filipinas began in 1565, with the arrival of Miguel Lopez de Legazpi, Iberian cattle stock for ranching also arrived. Beef joined existing culinary meats such as wild boar and deer. Throughout the Spanish colonial period the daily islander meal, however, was consistently disparaged as poor because it consisted only of plain rice, cooked without any seasoning, accompanied by a small piece of fish. The fish was sometimes described as “rotten”. Perhaps the more accurate description is that the fish was preserved through natural fermentation, which is the case for bagoong, a paste or mush made of salt and either krill or whole baby fish. Dipping sauces were mentioned, but of greens there was barely a word.

(Image courtesy of Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin) 31

Native food did not seem to have vegetables. But the Tagalog words compiled by Franciscan priest Pedro de San Buenaventura in 1613 include golayan, a small to medium-sized earthen pot in which solely vegetables were cooked. Among the vegetables in San Buenaventura’s list are cultivated ones such as colis (cabbage); ayap, balatong, cagyos, hantac and songay beans; talong (eggplant, which also grew wild); calabasa (squash); condol (gourd); catimon (cucumber); and covago (lettuce). Many edible roots are enumerated, but no mention is made of their leaves being eaten as vegetables, as they are today. The cultivated vegetables observed by San Buenaventura and other missionaries are far fewer than the edible wild plants documented in early 20th century agricultural research. Native folk of the 16th century did not maintain kitchen gardens. Perhaps they did not need them, because one could forage near home for greens that grew wild and were deemed communal in nature. For their own cuisine the Spaniards, on the other hand, relied on the produce from kitchen gardens tended by Chinese gardeners around Intramuros and the environs of Manila. Terroir as Determinant The vegetables a neighborhood’s residents ate depended on their location: along a seashore or riverbank, proximate to mangroves, at the edge of waste land, or beside a low, middle or high forest. Vegetables consisted of leaves, flowers, pods and seeds in addition to grains, roots, and fruits. They served both as major ingredients and as flavorers. New World, Old World and Asian mainland botanicals were mixing continuously with insular Southeast Asian food plants in the Philippines. In 1837 and 1921 alibangbang (the Malabar Orchid, Bauhinia malabarica Roxb.) grew wild; its leaves are used to sour the popular Philippine soups sinigang and sinampalukan. In 1918 a recipe for a boiled dish served to laborers in the Visayas consisted entirely of different leaves that could be cultivated as well as harvested in the wild: alusiman (a type of purslane, Portulaca sp.), camote (sweet potato, Ipomoea batatas), kangkong (water spinach, Ipomoea aquatica Forsk.), kulitis (amaranth, 32

Amarantus viridis L.), and malunggay (horseradish tree, Moringa oleifera Lam.). Some of the leaves came from Mexico and were indigenized. Traditionally, in Batangas the fruit of bago trees (paddy oats, Gnetum gnemon L.) were boiled or roasted and the young leaves used as a vegetable. In Java its ripe fruit is made into krupuk (deep-fried crackers). Seashores and coastlines were environments for dampalit (sea purslane, Sesuvium portulacastrum), flowering lamon (seagrass, Enthalus acoroides), pitogo (queen sago palm, Cycas rumphii Mig.), and yabyaban (East Indian arrowroot, Tacca pinnatifida Forst.). Ripe seeds of pitogo, also called oliva, were prepared as food in times of famine in some isolated parts of the archipelago like Batanes. Crushing the seeds and soaking them in several water baths removes their poison. In Guam the powder-like product is cooked as a porridge or small cakes. In the Philippines young pitogo leaves are rolled up and eaten as a vegetable. Yabyaban is a source of arrowroot starch long traded by Polynesians and East Indians. Gravel bars, shallow lakes and slow-running streams were home to kalaboa (duck lettuce, Ottelia alismoides Pers.); the widely-distributed pako (vegetable fern, Athyrium esculentum) thrives where streams are swift. Kalaboa fruit was very popular with children, who foraged it; the leaves were used as a vegetable. Some lakes such as Laguna de Bae had pulau (pink or hairy water lily, Nymphaea pubescens); its rhizomes and seeds were eaten as a vegetable. Tubers of apulid (water chestnut, Eleocharis dulcis) thrived untended in wet places and shallow water. They were sold in Manila markets from October to December in large numbers and boiled as a vegetable. Along streams, open wetlands, and humid forests one could hunt for biga also called gabi (taro, Alocasia macrorrhiza). Gauai-gauai (arrow head, Sagittari safittifolia) thrived in swamps and muddy waters. Palauan (giant swamp taro, Cyrtosperma merkusii) grew in wet ravines of central and southern Philippines, where its root was eaten when food was scarce. Palauan served as a staple vegetable in Camarines, where it was quite commonly cultivated, and in the Visayas minimally.

Thickets at low altitudes offered the herbaceous fern tukod-banuwa (flowering fern, Helminthostachys zeylanica L.); its young fronds were eaten raw as a salad or cooked as a vegetable. Ampalaya (bittermelon, Momordica charantia) grew in thickets and wild wastelands, and was also cultivated. Growing wild in the latter terrain too were kulitis and marasiksik or tainga ng daga (cloud ear fungus, Auricularia polutricha); sili (wild chili pepper, Capsicum frutescens L.), which was also cultivated; and the widely distributed talongtalongan (bitter apple, Solanum cumingii Dun.), the unripe fruit of which was cooked as a vegetable. Found from northern Luzon to Basilan in open grasslands and waste places, tagulinau or, in Negrense, mulu-mustasa (cupid’s shaving brush, Emilia sonchifolia) was cooked and eaten as a vegetable. Libato, also called alogbati (Basella rubra L.), is a twining herbaceous vine reaching up to 10 meters long found wild throughout the Philippines in waste places; it was a substitute for spinach. In Luzon, especially Ilocos, the male inflorescences (flower spikes) of alokon (Birch flower, Broussonetia luzonica (Blanco) Bur.) were eaten with pork and beans. Even fruit trees grew wild lessening the need to cultivate them. Bignai (Chinese laurel, Antidesma bunius Spreng.), popular for its berries, and binunga (elephant’s ear, Macaranga tanarius), used to make basi wine, were trees that sprouted in open waste areas being invaded by secondary growth. Duhat (Java or Malabar plum, Syzygium cumini) was one of the most numerous trees to grow wild at the early stage of the invasion of grass areas by secondgrowth forest. In 1921 the Bureau of Forestry of the Philippine Islands recorded at least 175 wild plants in addition to many palms that were edible. One could still live off the land if one had inherited foraging skills and botanical knowledge from ancestors. Sadly many of the traditional wild vegetables are no longer known. Perhaps they no longer grow in the archipelago. Farming and Gardening for Profit In the late 1930s the Philippine Commonwealth prioritized a tandem of food security and public health in its holistic development strategy toward setting up the Philippine Republic. Through an official adult education program it

Ipomea aquatica (kangkong) from Flora de Filipinas by Fr. Francisco Manuel Blanco OSA, Gran edición, Barcelona, 1877-83

expanded the spread of efforts introduced through grade-school vegetable gardening and home economics to increase vegetables in the diet. Home gardening was encouraged just as it had been during the Spanish era for families who lived in parish-pueblos. In the new version, families were to increase their kitchen garden harvest not only for home use but so excess produce could be sold fresh or pickled. A cadre of volunteers and cooperating institutions from the Bureau of Plant Industry, 4-H Clubs, home economics and industrial arts teaching staff, the National Federation of Women’s Clubs, the Catholic Women’s League, the Associated Charities of Manila, and many other groups reached into the barrios teaching everything from how to prepare seedbeds and rotate crops to how to replenish nutrients in the soil and cook vegetables without losing their vitamins and minerals. Among the vegetables prescribed for home gardens were sinkamas turnip, eggplant, sigarilyas beans, peanuts, long beans, bataw and patani beans, kondol gourd,

luffa (aka loofah), upo bottlegourd, squash, labanos radish, mustard green, onion, tomato, garlic, ginger, and sesame. Trees were singled out for fencing of homes and schools: kakawati (quickstick, Gliricidia sepium, also called madre de cacao) and kamatsili (monkeypod, Pithecellobium dulce). Two edible wild species were also listed: malunggay and katuray (corkwood tree, Sesbania grandiflora). Farmers were lured by high returns on investment to plant botanicals introduced during the American colonial era that started at the turn of the 20th century. Cabbage was the most expensive and desired vegetable on the local market at the time; Henderson’s Succession, Early Flat Dutch, Late Flat Dutch, All-Head Early, Wakefield, Shanghai, Solid South, Sure Head, Henderson’s Early Summer and Early Winningstadt seed varieties were recommended for Philippine soil. Cauliflower, another newlyintroduced vegetable, was grown in Baguio and Trinidad Valley. Vegetables grown during the Spanish era were likewise recommended for planting, but using new seed varieties: Kentucky mung bean; Momungan, Mintal, Canegro, and American White sweet potato; Mindoro Puti and Malabong Puti taro; Mandioca Basiarao, Mandioca San Pedro Preto, Aipin Mangi, Aipin Valencia, Smooth Intermediate and Kapo White cassava; and Tennessee Red, Virginia Jumbo and Virginia Runner peanut. Planting of Bombay onions had just started, and the Bureau of Agriculture recommended the Yellow Bermuda, Red Bermuda and Crystal Wax varieties. The American tomato was introduced, with W. Atlee Burpee & Co. of Philadelphia selling seeds for the Ponderosa, Matchless, Dwarf and Beefsteak varieties, recommended for countryside planting. Vegetables from cultivated home gardens and market purchases dominated traditional foraging for vegetables in the wild. Forests and mangroves, riversides and lakeshores were not prioritized for development as sources of food. Changing Landscapes Mindanao was the Promised Land and a temptation for those seeking their fortune during the early 20th century. Over a third of the land area of the Philippines was there, 34

although the Economic Map of the Philippine Islands compiled by John Bach and published by the Bureau of Commerce and Industry in 1924 (see back cover) shows most of Mindanao as commercial or non-commercial forest, with cultivated land confined to strips along the coasts. In the 1930s some of its land was designated for “agricultural colonization” with benefits for settlers. Farming, the most widespread occupation in the country, was envisioned as a means to earn a decent livelihood, especially with new legislation in place and the promotion of cooperatives. The first agricultural census was taken in 1939, coincidentally the 30th anniversary of the first College of Agriculture in the Philippines. It was 52 years since the Laboratorio Municipal de la Ciudad de Manila had begun its work in phytochemical research that involved edible botanicals such as purification of nipa palm sap for the distillery industry. During the Spanish colonial era, the Crown had proclaimed royal decrees ordering the planting of vegetables with value as tribute and for export. In 1759, for instance, it was obligatory to plant annually coconut, cacao, areca, palm and pepper. In 1768 the requirement included wheat, rice, corn and vegetables in addition to useful trees. In the 1800s Spanish interest in agriculture increased with a focus on profitable exports. But not till the American colonial era of the 1900s was scientific horticultural research made a priority. In addition, education in agriculture was widespread, including formal university and non-formal folk learning. Increasing cultivated land was to become a personal aspiration. The over-arching goal became individual gain from working in the food chain. The first agricultural census of the entire archipelago was published in 1939. It surveyed forest lands, subsistence farmlands, food crops and botanicals with high commercial value, which were specified as abaca (Manila hemp), coconut, corn, rice, sugar and tobacco. Vegetable farms included were those on which the area planted to beans, cabbages, cadios beans (pigeon peas), camotes (sweet potatoes), cowpeas, eggplants, gabe (taro), munggo (mung beans), onions, patani (lima beans), potatoes, radishes, sitao (asparagus beans), soybeans,

˂ Philippine Islands Land Utilization, United States Office of Strategic Services, Washington D.C., 1942 (image: Stanford University Libraries)

The lush Dipterocarp forests had been earmarked for a lumber industry that in just 33 years, along with subsidiary industries, earned a high eight million pesos through trade. One major source of traditional vegetables was diminishing. As a result of the census a land use map was made and published in 1942. There was still a considerable area of forest, but over time forests shrank and cultivated areas became industrial and residential areas. In 1997 the Department of Environment and Natural Resources included in its atlas a crop vulnerability map recording the El Niño climate threat. The hottest areas harmed forests, rice fields, coconut plantations and food crop zones. It is no wonder that vegetables of yore have disappeared.

tomatoes and/or watermelon equaled 50% or more of the area cultivated. The vegetable farms often also grew anipay (velvet beans), arrowroot, bittermelon, cantaloupe, chili pepper, garlic, ginger, lemongrass, libato (Malabar spinach), mustard, pandan (fragrant screwpine), patola (ribbed loofah), peanuts, pechay (Chinese chard), sesame, sinkamas (Mexican turnip), and ubi (purple yam).

Vegetables continue to be useful for nutrition. Home gardens are resurrectting as a fallback for emergencies and meta-disasters. As heritage cuisine finds advocates, the vegetables that once were foraged have regained attractiveness. There are two challenges for the wild greens latent and obliterated. One is to cultivate them. Second is to reintroduce them when revitalizing natural environs. Vanished vegetables should not be banished into oblivion. They not only enliven a food chain but fortify ecological sustainability.

This article is based on the presentation given to PHIMCOS by the author on May 29, 2019, which focused on how 20th century land-use maps illustrate what happened to traditional vegetables.

Selected References 1. Ang Gulay ay Pangpahaba ng Buhay (“Vegetables Lengthen Life”), Office of Adult Education, Manila, 1937. 2. Mga Halamang Pangbakod (“Nature’s Fencing Material”) in the Rural Reconstruction Series, Office of Adult Education, Manila, 1939. 3. “Wild Food Plants of the Philippines” by William H. Brown, in Minor Products of Philippine Forests, Vol. II pp. 225-378, Department of Agriculture and Natural Resources, Bureau of Forestry, Manila, 1921.

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Economic Map of the Philippine Islands by John Bach, Bureau of Commerce and Industry, Manila, 1924 (Peter Geldart collection)