By Kristel Quierrez, 2025 GLF Mountain Restoration Steward

My name is Kristel, but my community calls me Boniknik – a name that came from a lullaby composed by my father. 

Boniknik means imagination, memory and affection in my hometown of Maksa, Quezon province, located on Luzon, the most populous island in the Philippines. 

I belong to the Dumagat-Remontado Indigenous people, and from a very young age, I have been deeply drawn to stories spoken by elders, whispered by the wind and carried through generations.

Our people hold a profound and enduring relationship with the land. Our history is woven into the soil beneath our feet, the rivers and seas that sustain us and up into the mountains that watch over our lives. 

We are taught not merely to live upon the land but to respect it, protect it and understand it as a living presence, one that shapes our identity and survival.

One such place is particularly sacred – Tulaog Cave.

Tulaog Cave: A sacred space

Our elders say extraordinary events have happened at this cave. My grandfather says he’s witnessed the mystery of Tulaog, and he’s passed down the legend that Bobo, a spiritual guardian, dwells there. Bobo is also the name by which we refer to our grandparents or elders.

My grandfather once shared with me a story from his two uncles.

One summer, they went fishing in the calm waters of Barangay San Marcelino. They rowed their boat joyfully, pleased with the abundance of fish they were catching. The sea was gentle, and their spirits were light. 

But as they drew near Tulaog Cave, the weather suddenly changed. A fierce storm rose without warning, so violent that the two men could barely see each other at opposite ends of the boat.

After some time, the raging storm abruptly ceased. The sea grew quiet once more, but one of the men was already gone – Bobo had taken him.

Some believe that the disappearance of one of our ancestors was a sacrifice made to preserve the sacredness of Tulaog. Others believe that a life was offered so that illnesses and afflictions might be lifted from the community. 

These beliefs continue to shape how we understand loss, protection and unseen forces.

I haven’t personally witnessed any miracles or deaths near Tulaog, yet I feel a deep sense of peace whenever I enter the cave. 

I have offered prayers there – quiet, personal wishes spoken from the heart – and I believe that Tulaog has played a part in helping me overcome the trials I’ve faced in life.

Tulaog has served as a channel or healer for the sick through a ritual called pag-aako, where an ill person’s family performs ngayangay (a whispered prayer uttered only within the family) and then visits the cave to pray.

Ngayangay is a form of prayer performed exclusively by traditional elders, intended to express gratitude, seek forgiveness or guidance and present requests to the spirits that dwell within the forest and to Makidepet – the creator. It reinforces the sense that people are deeply intertwined and interconnected with nature. 

This ritual isn’t merely ceremonial; it’s an act of relational responsibility, reinforcing the reciprocal bonds between the community and the spiritual beings who inhabit it.

This site also signals changes in the weather. When we hear the cave ‘bursting’ or making loud popping sounds, we know we should prepare for a change of season. 

Tulaog Cave occupies a liminal space, physically separated from the main residential areas of the community. This relative isolation contributes to its significance as a place set apart from everyday social life.

Access to the cave is shaped by tidal rhythms, reflecting the community’s intimate relationship with the coastal environment. 

During low tide, the site may be reached on foot, as the receding waters expose a natural pathway along the shore. During high tide, however, it can only be accessed by boat. 

This dependence on natural conditions underscores the ways in which movement, space and time are governed by environmental forces, reinforcing the cave’s role not only as a physical location but also as a culturally and spiritually significant landscape.

Indigenous resistance at Tulaog Cave

The Dumagat-Remontado people continue to believe in, care for and defend the sacredness of Tulaog. We believe nature is alive; stones, soil and water all have life. 

Some outsiders have sought to exploit and destroy the cave’s sanctity. Corporations have started mining excavations, and tourists have turned it into a picnic spot, leaving their trash behind. Now, the local government is promoting the site as a tourist attraction without our consent. 

What does this say about Indigenous sovereignty and community authority over ancestral domains? 

“The destruction and exploitation of the sacredness of Tulaog is no different from trampling on our identity as Indigenous people who believe in it,” says Fely Piston, the Indigenous Peoples Mandatory Representative (IPMR) and a resident of the barangay (district or borough) where Tulaog is located.

Gemot (elders) and leaders along IPMRs and kaksaan (tribal chieftains) from six Indigenous communities held consultations across our communities and are now pursuing a legal ordinance that aims to ensure that the cave remains orderly, sacred and respected.

The ordinance aims to ban specific actions such as unauthorized photography and videography, celebrations or events unrelated to the commemoration or cultural significance of the site, verbally disrespect towards the site, extractive activities such as mining, the removal of stones or other natural materials, and fishing beyond designated limits in the area around Tulaog.

It also aims to strengthen the capacity of the Dumagat-Remontado people in governance, leadership and participation in activities that protect and promote Indigenous community management in pursuit of collective development.

Collectively, these provisions reflect an effort to uphold cultural protocols, protect the ecological integrity of the site and affirm Indigenous authority over the regulation and care of a sacred landscape.

To commemorate and continually affirm the sacredness of Tulaog, we have designated 4 August as an annual day of observance and celebration. This occasion is consistently attended by numerous Indigenous communities, serving as a collective act of remembrance, cultural continuity and respect for the site’s spiritual significance.

Safeguarding sacredness

Our petitioned ordinance is aligned with the Indigenous Peoples’ Rights Act of 1997, which recognizes and protects sacred places, culture and intellectual property.

However, ours is a local ordinance that centers our community approach rather than relying on national policy. This is partly due to past experiences in which broader laws have been used to undermine Indigenous efforts to defend ancestral lands.

If we can achieve legal recognition of Tulaog Cave’s sacredness, development will be banned in the area, thus securing the future of our land and culture.

“For us as Indigenous people, and out of respect for everything we have inherited, [land] protection is truly necessary because it is part of our identity,” says traditional leader Kakaksaan Marcelino Tena. 

“If our ancestral domain has no protection, then it’s as if our own selves, our lives and our livelihoods, as well as all beings living in the forests, have no protection.”

Our people are tied to our forests. Without the forests, there would be no Dumagat-Remontado people today. 

Our traditions and our language, our cultural practices of sharing, our knowledge systems and even our spiritual beliefs, including the presence of Makidepet within nature, are all inseparable from the forest. 

“We hope the pleas of the Indigenous communities to protect our sacred places will succeed, for these have long been our source of strength in our relationship with Makidepet,” says Wilma Quierrez, the IPMR of Barangay Magsikap.

While we don’t yet know if this ordinance will be granted, it’s a monumental step worth celebrating. We’re shedding light on the importance of protecting not only Tulaog but all sacred sites that carry a community’s history.