Norman Owen is an economic and social historian. He is known for his big book on Bikol and the abaca industry entitled, Prosperity Without Progress: Manila Hemp and Material Life in the Philippines. He has written many articles and has visited Naga and other areas in Bikol many times.
One of his engaging papers comes under the title “Life, Death and the Sacraments.” I believe this formed the bulk of the paper he read during that massive conference on local history held in Naga in 1990. While the paper looks at pardon or parish register in the 1800s, its archival information masks the many more human interests during the period.
Tigaon, was in the middle of the 19th century, all forest, “with the exception of “a few rice fields.” The documents consulted by Owen use the label “Negritos” and thus the historian marked the label “sic” or “as such”. The ethnic communities are called Agta or Aeta. Tigaon was surrounded by the parishes of Sagnay, Goa and a place called Patrocinio. Apparently, this was the old name of San Jose.
The women of Tigaon during this period were described as devoting themselves to “weaving ordinary guinaras,” described as a coarse abaca fabric. If there was ordinary abaca then, there must have been those extra-special ones used by women and even men during special occasions. The people were said to have “few carabaos, cows and horses because of the continual thefts by the Negritos.”
Owen shares the same problem with any historians: the problem of reconstructing history. He tells us that these documents can lead him on to those “promising trails.” He calls them “lines of inquiry that might, given sufficient time and effort, provide much more precise knowledge than we have had hitherto about Philippine historical demography.” His paper is about the church and society and the numbers and data that they produced. In his appraisal of documents, however, he stresses the “extensive omissions, errors, and anomalies.” Despite this situation, one can find in the paper – in its dark alleys and silences – many questions and some answers that lead us to pictures of the past.
Owen analyzes the figures in the parish records and you can almost hear his heart skip a beat upon encountering an element in Tigaon fertility: the very high illegitimacy ratio. According to Owen, for over more than 60 years, from 1819-80, “more than one-quarter of all children baptized (1,193 of 4,397) were recorded as the offspring of an unmarried woman.” The father is unknown (padre no conocido).
Most women during these years appeared to have gotten married between about 18 and 25. This is interesting because the social stereotype of marriages in rural areas and in pre-modern Kabikolan and Philippines always showed girl-brides of 14 and 15 years of age. Now, there is nothing wrong with Owen’s analysis or the girl-bride phenomenon. Certain reports make us think and lead us to more critical analysis. Owen clarifies this seeming discrepancy by citing a practice where very young girls had their respective ages overstated usually for one year. It happened, too, that young girls who were to become brides had their age of 16 upped three years!
Why this was done, the historian had no answer. This is the fun part of history, the opening of the mind to possibilities, the enlarging of the domain of interpretation.
The Bikolanas, following the Tigaon figures, seem not to have “terminal abstinence,” as they continue “producing offspring as long as they and their husbands were capable,” following Owen’s words. In another literature, this phenomenon might as well be arranged as one more index of the Bikol person’s possession and display of “orag.” But let us not go there. Not yet. Until we talk about mortality.
The dearth of records makes it difficult for anyone to extrapolate figures and come up with conclusion about mortality and other matters. Almost mysterious but not quite really is this line from Owen’s paper which states: “Many men just “disappeared” in their twenties…” Before you go wild with your own speculation, let us continue reading Owen. “Many men just “disappeared “in their twenties, presumably because they tended to migrate in search of work and adventure at that age.” He continues: “It is also possible, however, that some of them were physically present but concealing themselves from the authorities in order to avoid corvée [often, unpaid labor], military conscription, or other inconveniences.”
I like that: disappearing because of inconveniences. And appearing with the boon to share with the community. Now, this is epic.