The Ideology of Ritual Performance

Wealth in prewar Buguias permitted lavish ritual performance, which in turn conferred social status. But underlying the feast system was a more recondite economic calculus; couples performed ceremonies primarily in hope of enlarging their own stores of material wealth, which would allow even more grandiose future celebrations, hence even more prestige, and so on. The seeming paradox posed in the proposition that consumption was the route to accumulation was resolved in beliefs concerning the rapport between the living and the dead. In all likelihood, such ideas evolved slowly in the Spanish and American periods, as they have continued to do during the postwar era; as a result, it should be kept in mind that later innovations may have inadvertently been introduced into the oral accounts upon which this analysis is based. The basic workings of the system, however, have clearly been in place for the entire reach of present-day lore.

The Luck of the Ancestors

According to the local economic-cosmological model, luck—vital in every endeavor—was controlled by the ancestors. Certainly the Buguias people considered hard work essential for realizing potential good fortune, just as sloth was considered capable of bringing its own destitution. But fortuity was primary. The nature of a couple's luck hinged on their concourse with their deceased parents, grandparents, and more distant ancestors. To ensure blessings from above, they had to please these amed, and since the dead yearned to return periodically to feast with their descendants, pedit was mandatory. If the offerings were inadequate, the amed would readily indicate their displeasure.

The ancestors relished dance, but they were also greedy for the

spiritual essences of hog flesh and rice beer. They also rejoiced in blankets and even money; a cache of silver peso coins, placed upon a stack of funeral blankets, adorned every pedit ceremony. The dead needed such (non)material things because they too existed within a wealth-based, and mutable, social hierarchy. A soul entered the afterworld with a blanket-signified rank, but could subsequently rise or possibly even fall according to the oblations offered by living descendants. To cinch the matter, an ancestor's power to bestow bounty on the living depended, in turn, on his or her afterlife position. The welfare of the living was thus partly contingent on the gifts that each couple managed to send skyward. The newly rich encountered a special burden here, since to ensure continued success they had not only to placate but also to empower their lowstatus spiritual allies.

Normal communications between earth and heaven were indirect, vague, and subject to misinterpretation. A clear channel, however, opened with every death. While in the death chair, an individual remained in limbo, shuttling back and forth between the two realms until the final burial on earth, corresponding to acceptance in the afterworld. Hence the extravagant attention lavished on the corpse; revelers at the wake sang and chanted unceasingly to the body, asking it to convey special requests to the ancestors. Here also lay the significance of the double burial; with the first interment the soul sojourned in the afterworld, gathering a store of luck that it could redistribute if brought back to earth for a brief period. Since the cooperation of the recently released spirit was vital to the success of this endeavor, the living hoped that through flattery they might secure an enthusiastic messenger. A funeral of an elder was thus not an entirely unhappy occasion. Story telling, joking, and drinking lightened the somber ceremonies at the house of the dead.

Even if well-feted, the ancestors still constituted a threat, thus requiring additional ritual precautions. Two parallel dangers lurked here: an amed might pine for a specific living person's companionship; or, a certain living soul might opt for more constant spiritual communion. In either instance, death could come prematurely. Here lay the peril in visiting a wake on an odd number of occasions; if the pair (essentially a sexual metaphor) were not completed, one's now unbalanced soul could more easily be lost. Spe-

cial ceremonies were also needed to resegregate the quick from the dead. In nonritual settings, however, the afterworld was not so beckoning; in fact, languishing elders would occasionally bundle themselves within their own death shrouds, hoping to frighten their souls into remaining earthbound a while longer.

Ritual and Power in Human Society

During rituals the Buguias people generally feasted together in communal harmony. Disputes were put to rest for the nonce, and the few rivalries exhibited were playful. For example, if someone were to fall asleep during a wake, another might regale the corpse by saying: "Look here, this fellow is ignoring you, so why don't you give to me the favors he requested?" But good will did not always infuse human relations, and mundane disputes were sometimes referred to the afterworld. In trial by ordeal, for example, the ancestors and gods were asked to judge, and were expected to give immediate evidence of guilt or innocence. Moreover, the threat of supernatural sanction always made perjury a dangerous litigation strategy. A curse befalling a liar might persist for years, fomenting perennial ill feelings between contesting families.

On the whole, the Buguias people prized amicable settlements and were proud to note that the blood feuds endemic to many other Cordilleran regions did not plague their society. Yet violent disputes did occasionally erupt, and the opposing parties could try to curry favor from the more powerful ancestors. Since both parties could do the same, human quarrels could escalate into contests between different afterworld factions. A few individuals, usually Kalanguya immigrants, were judged guilty of manipulating malignant spirits for their own benefit; these mantala were greatly feared and occasionally killed, secretly or in public.

The Tong Tongan Jural System

Regardless of ancestral advocacy, most disputes were ultimately settled in the tong tongan , or indigenous court system, the focal point of political power in prewar Buguias. Here the male elders arbitrated suits and sentenced criminals; the issues they faced

ranged from murder to divorce to animal damage in an uma. Not surprisingly, power and to some extent, even membership, in this jural body were not merely functions of age, but also of pedit performance. While an elder of the lowest respectable rank would rate the status of elder, the dominating voices were those of the more elderly elite. But even the richest could not rely merely on their ceremonial renown or economic muscle; a powerful voice had to be eloquent, reasonable, trustworthy, and ultimately convincing to the other jurors. Lower-status elders, however, were usually reluctant to contest their higher fellows. Thus a strong bias pervaded cross-class tong tongan proceedings; poor parties often prosecuted their cases with reluctance, relying instead on the high-class jurors' sense of justice.

Religious significance imbued the tong tongan. Contestants would always purchase a pig for joint sacrifice, while both winner and loser offered additional animals (batbat ) after the settlement—the losing party paying for both. The Buguias people trusted these rituals to quell the ill will and bad luck engendered in litigation. Here too status nudged the scales. A batbat, for example, required only a chicken, but a victorious baknang, if callous, could demand of the loser a pig, the theory being that a man of stature should always perform a lavish rite.

Grounds for Belief

The purported economic linkages between the sky-world and earth rested as much on quasi-empirical demonstration as on faith. The efficacy of prestige feasting was superficially palpable; those couples who held the grandest feasts possessed the greatest wealth, which implied ancestral favor—itself derived from gifts offered in ritual. But this tautology did not suffice. Rather, the Buguias people called for direct evidence tying past performances with present conditions. This was the province of the mankotom. It was his duty to keep track of many individuals' supernatural messages (dreams, sangbos ), their subsequent ritual actions or omissions, and their resulting economic successes and failures. It was on the basis of this body of narrative evidence that the mankotom gave advice and offered prophesies.

If an advisee followed the recommended course but garnered no

luck, he could always question the skill of the mankotom rather than the verity of his own beliefs. Those mankotoms with poor records found their careers abbreviated, but successful forecasters enjoyed ever increasing renown. Of course, even an ascendant prophet occasionally blundered, but then he could always accuse the celebrant of neglecting some minor but essential duty. As a person of considerable ritual power, the mankotom could be tempted to serve himself. One adviser was suspected of having intentionally staged an inappropriate and incomplete ritual so as to offend the ancestors and bring down a disliked advisee. But such a ploy was perilous, since it could destroy a mankotom's reputation, the very stuff of his power.

The Economics of Ritual Expenditure

All rituals entailed expense. An angry nature spirit could usually be appeased with nothing more than a chicken, although an irritated timungao might exact an expensive white pig. But the ancestors, and the living persons honoring them, demanded real livestock slaughter. In any given ceremony this could escalate beyond original expectations, as bile omens might require additional sacrifices. With this eventuality in mind, celebrants sometimes stockpiled small, cheap pigs. In funerals, the paired offerings increased the risk, since a single malformed gallbladder might call for two new animals.

Nor was livestock the only expense. The guests also required carbohydrates and plenty of expensive rice beer. Furthermore, the ritualists demanded pay: the manbunung received the hind leg of a pig or the foreleg of a water buffalo, and the mankotom was given a large portion of the finest meat. As major ceremonies called for several manbunungs, the outlay here could be significant.

A funeral burdened both the estate of the deceased and the personal fortunes of the surviving children. Guests brought alms (used spiritually by the departing soul and materially by responsible family), but these could never cover the entire cost of the funeral. Many believed that if the personal property of the dead (animals and rice terraces) were spared, his or her spirit would be prone to haunt. Further, the alms givers received raw and cooked meat to take home in proportion to their contributions. And finally, the mar-

ried children of the deceased were further burdened with private postfuneral observances for which no assistance was forthcoming.

Social Stratification and Religious Expense

On the surface, ritual expenditures disproportionally taxed the rich. This was especially marked in funerals and above all in pedit, where each step entailed geometrically inflated expenses. But on all occasions, elite couples demonstrated their stature by redistributing lavishly. This also extended to the nonritual feasts (saliw ) that accompanied such occurrences as the completion of a house or the engagement of one's child.

The Buguias ideology demanded the redistribution of wealth. The elite could accumulate only so much; eventually public pressure, or the desire for supernatural favor, would force them to some extent to decapitalize.^[6] No one could live on the fruits of wealth alone, and even the richest had to pursue income actively. But, in the great irony of Buguias religion, a favored method of reacquiring wealth was to exploit the religious observations of the commoners. Here was a fine opportunity for usury.

Every self-respecting commoner had to begin adult life with a series of expensive rituals, beginning with the wedding ceremony. Social pressure motivated laggards; villagers denigrated any woman who married a man too poor or frugal to supply a buffalo ("Are you so cheap that he could take you with just a chicken?"). Couples who failed to perform the postwedding ceremony of sabang humiliated their parents, who feared for their own status—both on earth and in the afterlife. If a couple did not at least initiate the pedit series they suffered continual shame. Everyone was obligated to entertain the ancestors and to feast the living; the wellbeing of the entire village rested here. Further costs were encountered with sickness, and, more importantly, with funerals. Only members of the servile class could ignore the demands of the spirits and the corresponding responsibilities of community life.

One may well wonder how people of little property were able to afford such celebrations. The only answer was long-term debt. Few managed easily to return the principal, and interest charges—often hidden—exacerbated their plight. Most commoners remained constantly in debt, often owing their labor as well as their livestock to

the village financiers. This put them at a psychological and monetary disadvantage in communal affairs. Debtors were often cowed, and wealthy creditors could argue with little opposition the right to dictate a poor couple's ritual schedule, saying, "You couldn't do anything if we didn't lend you money, therefore you should do as we say."

Interest arrangements for ritual expenses varied. Loans were often "on the hoof," in which case the lender immediately received a large chunk of flesh as partial compensation. On other occasions the baknang would lend money for the purchase of a specific animal. In this instance, several parties might claim "interest meat," including the creditor, the animal's caretaker, and its owner. Interest on simple cash loans also varied; usually a year's grace period was allowed, after which rates ranged between zero and 30 percent annually, depending on the generosity of the lender and on the familial ties of the two parties.

A few debtors escaped altogether by moving away, either to Baguio City or to a more remote district within Benguet. But most commoners continued to pay off their old debts—although they usually accumulated new ones in the interim. If a borrower owned rice terraces, the lender could take possession after several years of nonpayment and eventually claim them outright. One baknang in particular was alleged to have amassed extensive terrace holdings in this manner.

One could not claim baknang standing if one did not lend animals for prestige feasts. This was a responsibility of rank, albeit one that could be used to advantage. But by exploiting the poverty of neighbors and relatives the unscrupulous baknang would arouse community censure. In characteristic circularity, however, communal approbation could readily be reacquired through further ritual expenditures. Both despite and because of their considerable outlays, a few powerful individuals retained control of the community's underlying financial structure.

Power and Religion Reconsidered

Political power in prewar Buguias rested largely on wealth legitimated by ritual performance. If any baknang couple had tried to shirk their ritual responsibility (an unthinkable occurrence), their position would have faltered, for it depended critically on popular

support. The elite had few real means of coercion in the indigenous system; even in exercising political power they worked with, not against, the public. The commoners accepted elite domination in part because the wealthy, by feasting the entire village, proved themselves worthy of respect, and, by honoring the ancestors, helped ensure the prosperity of all Buguias people.

Most Buguias residents considered the differentiation of human society into rich and poor, powerful and weak, to be the natural order of things. Social stratification pervaded their universe, being marked just as strongly in heaven as on earth. The gods of Benguet were noted above all else for their wealth, as is evident in Sacla's (1987:53–56) masterful translations of ritual chants:

It is said, Pati came down;
The progenitor of the wealth and mighty;
He came down with pigs, your pigs . . .
It is said, Balitoc came down
Whose gold scales balance perfectly;
A precious scale used in Suyoc;
Yes, because he is wealthy and mighty;
He came with pigs, your pigs . . .
It is said Kabigat came down;
With precious coins in the amount of twelve and a half;
He used to purchase pigs for pedit;
Yes, because he is wealthy and mighty;
He came down with pigs, your pigs . . .
It is said Lumawig came down;
He has power to cast out evil;
Yes, because he is wealthy and mighty;
He came down with pigs, your pigs . . .
It is said, Bangan came down,
Bangan from Langilangan;
Wearing an alad-dang blanket;
She wore such garment because
she is rich and mighty . . .

Even nature spirits in Buguias were class-divided. The wealthy timungao, of course, could cause much greater harm or bestow much better fortune than their more modest colleagues. If a human were to break an (invisible) porcelain jar of a baknang ni timungao , serious consequences could be avoided only through a very expensive ritual.

But individual class positions, whether in human or ancestral society, were never regarded as ordained; it was rather the economic interactions between these two spheres that allowed mobility in both. As everyone hoped to prosper, the luck-bestowing ancestors lay at the focus of religious life. Although individuals competed for material gain, their relations with their forebears ultimately hinged on communal engagements. The centrifugal tendencies of a commercial and competitive society were partly balanced by the centripetal forces inherent in common worship and food sharing.

In more immediate material terms, however, the resources necessary both for upward mobility and for the wealthy to maintain their positions were derived largely from interregional trade. It is this mercantile sphere, which also formed the essential preconditions for Buguias's later commercial transformation, that we shall now examine.