It was not yet 6 a.m. and I was bouncing on the back of a hired motorcycle (locally called habal) navigating the rocky, slippery mountain road that leads to the sitio in General Nakar, Quezon, where I was to attend an Agta wedding.

I had taken a bus past midnight in Manila and arrived a little more than four hours later in Infanta, Quezon, where I waited for a motorcycle service—the only motorized public transport that could take me to my destination. 

The path changed from paved national highway to potholed seaside trails surrounded by coconut trees to this rocky incline-decline between lush vegetation. At some points, I felt myself sliding off the seat and had to readjust my weight.

Along the way, my driver and I crossed three bridges and short respites of paved road, and zoomed past a sanitary landfill and the district jail. But mostly, we carefully made our way up then down then up roads of rock and mud. It had rained very hard the previous night, my driver informed me. And then, having reached a certain point of the road, we proceeded very slowly. According to my driver and indeed the signs placed strategically, the path is precarious; people have been injured and, worse, perished while traversing it.

But the dangerous path notwithstanding, the sun was already illuminating the undulating Sierra Madre range even as an almost-full moon was still visible in the blue sky. The cool wind caressed my cheeks, and the surrounding landscape was lush with emerald ferns and towering trees.

Within 40 minutes, we arrived near the home of the bride, Kristel Quierrez, whom I had met only online through text messages and phone calls. 

Youth leader

Kristel is a local youth leader who is active in the STOP Kaliwa Dam campaign. I met her through a friend who told me that she was the only Filipino among the 2025 Global Landscapes Forum’s Restoration Stewards. She is also co-founder of Ugbon: Katutubong Kabataang Umuugat sa Kabundukan ng Sierra Madre, a network of young people from the indigenous communities living on the mountain range, who assert their indigenous rights and advocate for environmental protection. 

I joined some of the community members who were sitting at a long wooden table, nursing steaming cups of coffee. We listened to occasional birdsong but I could not catch a glimpse of any of the singers. Someone said there was a kalaw (Philippine hornbill) living in the forest right across from where we were sitting. I had never seen one; I hoped it would honor me with a sighting of its majesty.

Agta, as Kristel told me, means “person” in their language. They are popularly known as the Dumagat-Remontado—from the Tagalog dagat (sea) and their proximity to it and the Spanish remontar (ascending) referring to their mountain abode. There are also Agta communities in Tanay, Rizal.

I was inspired when Kristel told me that she had attended primary school in Sentrong Paaralan ng mga Agta, which advocates for the integration of their indigenous knowledge, systems, and practices in their communities. 

She said she had learned to value the environment from interactions within her community, with the elders constantly citing their strong bond with the earth: that the Divine is in every piece of creation from rivers to trees to birds, that the environment is their life.

Ancestral land under threat

The Sierra Madre mountains on the eastern side of Luzon serve as a barrier to strong typhoons. The indigenous people who live there are credited with conserving and preserving the rich biodiversity of the forests where different animals thrive.

But there is a sword of Damocles hanging over the mountain range and the Agta: the Kaliwa Dam project that will not only drastically alter their environment but also threaten their life and livelihood.

The Metropolitan Waterworks and Sewerage System promises that the dam will supply the daily water supply needs of Metro Manila and nearby towns. But it will come at a cost: the flooding of about 100 hectares of forestland and displacement of 39 indigenous communities. 

The dam is projected to cover Tanay, Antipolo, and Teresa in Rizal and General Nakar and Infanta in Quezon, but mostly General Nakar.

The Agta are fiercely defending and protecting their environment because they depend on the rivers and forests for their livelihood and food, including rice and honey. The dam will also wipe out the sites they traditionally hold sacred. Their very culture is at stake.

Their struggle to assert their claim of ancestral domain is being supported by civil-society and activist groups. 

Wedding in red

After breakfast, members of the community changed into their traditional best—G-strings for the men and one-piece dresses for the women, all in fiery red, complemented by beads and bangles. 

They were of diverse ages. I met a sprightly 95-year-old man who talked about living through World War II; he was a pre-teen at that time. Many children were at play. There was a baby serenely feeding at his mother’s breast.

At the appointed time, the family members of Kristel and her groom, Rolan Asa, gathered a few meters from the hut that had been set up as the wedding tent.

The rest of those present stood behind two male elders, each representing the couple’s families, who proceeded to engage in a mock eskrima (sword fight) using slabs of wood fashioned as long knives. With music blasting from a loudspeaker, they moved around and forward, doing fancy footwork, each trying to take the flag held aloft on a pole by a woman, also clad in red. I was told that the wedding would proceed only if the man representing the groom’s family would be able to seize the flag. Of course, all of us rooted for him.

After the groom’s family took possession of the flag, the elders carrying pouches of woven grass gathered around the bride and groom. They opened the pouches and proceeded to assemble their mama (chew, or nganga to the Tagalog)—composed of betel nut, betel leaves, and lime. They then chewed betel together, symbolizing their acceptance of the union of their families. (Someone told me during breakfast that the bride and groom usually exchanged their chewed-up betel, but it did not happen in this case.)   

Next, the elders raised their hands over Kristel and Rolan. A female elder led the prayer for their welfare.

Then the wedding procession into the hut began, signalling the start of the Catholic wedding ritual. In his homily, the priest remarked on the simplicity and respect for culture of the ceremony, with the members of the entourage clad in their traditional garb. 

In the reception that followed, the community members and their guests were invited to partake of a meal of pork and chicken, shrimp, squid, and small crabs. We ate with our hands, sharing the meal with animated conversation. Later, the locally made libation, lambanog, was passed around.

I watched the Agta children playing and wondered what awaits them. I was struck by the precarity of their situation, with their culture, livelihood, and very lives at risk. All indications point to the Kaliwa Dam project proceeding, with target completion set in 2026 and the start of operations by 2027. What will happen to these culture bearers? What will their future be?

Read more: Once more into the breach: Indigenous folk march against Kaliwa Dam