A typhoon in the Ifugao rice terraces exposes the waterway the ancestors once dammed

In a village in Ifugao, in the mountains of northern Philippines, a recent typhoon tore open a breach in the rice terraces that changed the routine of local guardian Mamerto Lagitan. As it rushed down the slope, the water followed, almost exactly, the bed of the stream that the terrace builders had diverted centuries ago. Lagitan sums up the phenomenon in his own words: "I will call this nature's reclamation work."

He appears in the video "Nature's Reclamation," published in August by the channel of the World Tribal Alliance, an organization that brings together guardians of indigenous traditions from different continents. One of the group's interests is showing how traditional communities read recent environmental disasters — and the Ifugao episode works as a case study in erosion, farming and memory.

Centuries-old terraces, new rain

The Rice Terraces of the Philippine Cordilleras, a region that includes Ifugao, are on the UNESCO World Heritage list. Built centuries ago, they redirect water courses to irrigate thousands of plots carved into the hillsides. When the typhoon broke through part of a stone wall, the flood simply retraced the spring's original path — something Lagitan reads as proof of the ancient builders' ingenuity, not as their failure.

From rice to tomatoes

Lagitan shows that part of the old rice field has shifted to growing tomatoes, which are more profitable. He says the variety planted today is a hybrid that depends on fertilizer and pesticide, and that the extra income from selling it is often spent on processed food — not necessarily a better diet than the one native, slower-growing rice provided.

Ancestral memory and information

He argues that a well-informed community needs no mobilization campaigns: announcing that an irrigation channel needs repair is enough for everyone to show up. It is a view about collective participation, not a proven fact, but one he sets against technicians who, in his critique, arrive with ready-made solutions without consulting the people who live there.

A butterfly and a restoration project

Lagitan also recounts a personal experience: taking part in a session with a woman who says she channels messages from ancestors, he saw her describe a butterfly he says he already associated with a nearby sacred place. That experience — which this site treats as testimony, not fact — led him to a restoration project of his own for Bangaan culture, and to acting as a bridge to neighboring regional groups he calls Bakwit.

Claims about what the ancestors "would feel" at the damage, or about the distribution of a calamity fund, are Lagitan's personal impressions, with no independent verification in the video. What remains, in the end, is less a tidy lesson than a question: what the ancient construction left unfinished, and what to do with what the rain gave back.