WHAT HAPPENS TO INDIGENOUS PEOPLES OUTSIDE THEIR ANCESTRAL AREAS?

WHAT HAPPENS TO INDIGENOUS PEOPLES OUTSIDE THEIR ANCESTRAL AREAS?

Due to various reasons, there are now Badjao and Mamanwa communities living outside their traditional areas. I deliberately say ancestral areas, because they may not have Certificates of Ancestral Domain Titles (CADTs) where they originally came from. I also say communities, because these are not merely individuals or isolated families. They may still have their tribal structures, elders and customary relationships, even though they have left their traditional homes.

This raises an important social question: Is it more difficult to protect Indigenous Peoples when they are outside their ancestral domains?

The situation of the Mamanwa in Basey, Samar gives us a concrete example. The NCIP documented 35 migrant Mamanwa families whose roots are in Surigao, and actually visited them together with DSWD, DILG and other agencies. 

The NCIP has also documented Badjao communities in Mambaling, Cebu City, including efforts to address their lack of birth registration—a problem that can make people practically invisible when they try to access government services. 

So, what happens when an Indigenous community moves?

Are they migrants? Internally displaced persons? Nomads? Informal settlers? Or simply Indigenous Peoples temporarily living outside their ancestral domain?

Who makes that determination?

And what happens to their political representation?

Do they qualify to elect an Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representative (IPMR) in the place where they are now living? Must they have a certain population? Must they possess land? Must they have a fixed territory before they can be recognized as a community?

These questions deserve clear answers.

The law protects Indigenous Peoples, but much of our institutional thinking remains anchored on ancestral domains. Yet the NCIP itself has emphasized that ancestral domain is more than a title—it is home, culture, livelihood, history and the future of a community. 

What happens when the community is temporarily or permanently separated from that home?

There is another troubling question. I have heard reports of syndicates allegedly bringing Indigenous people to Metro Manila to beg on the streets. If this is true, are the DILG and PNP investigating these syndicates?

And what about LGUs that know Indigenous people are begging on their streets but simply tolerate the situation?

Should we not call them to account?

Perhaps some of these communities are already technically homeless. Do our LGUs have shelters where they can stay temporarily? Are there culturally appropriate shelters? Could there be an Urban Indigenous Peoples Assistance Program involving NCIP, DILG, DSWD, PNP and the LGUs?

But perhaps the most important question is this:

Do these communities want to remain where they are, or do they want to return home?

If they want to return, who will pay for transportation and relocation? Who will receive them? Are their home tribes and LGUs prepared to accept them?

This should not be decided for them.

We should ask them.

The NCIP is already demonstrating that inter-agency cooperation is possible. Its recent work with migrant Mamanwa families involved dialogue with the community and coordination with the LGU and other national agencies. 

Perhaps this should now become a national policy.

An Indigenous community does not stop being Indigenous simply because it has moved.

The government therefore needs to know where these communities are, why they moved, what they need, whether they want to return, and how their identity, culture, dignity and rights can be protected wherever they happen to be.

Otherwise, we may have Indigenous Peoples who are officially recognized—but practically invisible.

RAMON IKE V. SENERES

www.facebook.com/ike.seneres  iseneres@yahoo.com  senseneres.blogspot.com  09088877282/08-27-2027