Huwah 2025: Returning to the river, continuing the cycle of the land

The Hapao River runs through the terraced rice fields in the southwestern part of Hungduan in Ifugao, churning and rushing though rocks. A smaller river converges with it in an area locals call Nunhipukana, which is also the meeting point of three villages — Hapao, Baang, and Nungulunan. Every year, residents of the three villages meet for a game of tug-of-war marking the end of an agricultural cycle and the beginning of another.

On 2 August, on the rocky bed of the Hapao River, the three teams braced themselves against the cold current, straining their muscles and their hands gripping the pakid made of young tree trunks. They shouted, laughed, and taunted one another as their feet slided on slick stones, water surging around their knees. Spectators crowded the banks, cheering them on, some waving dong-a leaves. Winners were declared above the roar of water.

The guyyudan or tug-of-war was the highlight of the Punnuk, the culmination of the Huwah, the post-harvest celebration of the three communities of the indigenous Tuwali Ifugao in Hungduan.

The start of the wet season in the Philippines marks the harvest season in the province of Ifugao. In Hungduan, it ends with Huwah. The Punnuk part was inscribed by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) into Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity in 2015, alongside other tugging traditions from Cambodia, Korea, and Vietnam.

This year, Huwah was held from 1 to 2 August, starting with the divination ritual called baki, sponsored by the dumupag, the Uyammi-Bimuyag family, and held at their residence in Nattalig, Hapao.

In traditional Ifugao society, the wealthy and influential class is called kadangyan, and within this class, the dumupag is the family who leads work in the rice fields and in rituals.

In the morning of 1 August, the first day of Huwah, we waited for the mumbaki, the Ifugao shaman or ritual specialist, Gano or Daniel Bimuyag, a relative of the dumupag family. The family has already prepared the venue for the baki as well as the paraphernalia, which included jars of bayah or rice wine for the mumbaki and attendees.

The baki was held under the family’s alang or rice storehouse, which looks like a smaller version of the fale or bale, the Ifugao hut that stands on stilts. The alang was pregnant with sheaves of just harvested rice. In the middle stood two bul-ols, carved wooden figures that serve as guardians of the grains.

When the mumbaki arrived, a designated person brought out the punamhan, the wooden ritual box containing the ritual paraphernalia as well as mementoes from past rituals. The mumbaki invoked the ancestral gods and deities. The sacrificial chicken was slaughtered and cut open. The shaman “read” the gallbladder to determine if the spirits have accepted their offerings of wine and chicken and blessed the holding of the Punnuk the following day.

Upon seeing the spirits’ approval in the chicken’s gallbladder, the mumbaki performed the gumuwe, the announcement. He went out to rice fields and shouted to the whole community that baki has concluded and the Punnuk will proceed tomorrow. Anyone hearing the announcement would repeat the message until it reaches to other parts of the community.

The mumbaki then went to another house just across a rice field to perform another ritual. Since it was nearing noon, the shaman and other attendees would take lunch there, prepared by the Cadipuhan-Dagitan family, which is the community’s umonub, the second-ranking family in the kadangyan class.

This year, I finally got to meet a member of the family, Rosita Pablo Cadipuhan Dagitan, whose mother’s family, the Bucano, is the umonub. As a child, she remembered that Huwah has always been held in her community.

At that time, she walked all the way to Banawe, the neighboring town, to attend elementary school, since there were no school yet in Hungduan. She attended high school in Hungduan when Saint Mary’s School was established. She was able to attend college at Saint Louis University in Baguio City through the help of the nuns of Good Shepherd Convent, now famous for making strawberry and ube jams. She remembered working at the convent to make jams. After graduation, she went on to work as a bookkeeper for provincial government of Ifugao in the capital town Lagawe, where she eventually got married and came to live there until now. Occasionally, she comes home to Hungduan especially during Huwah.

After the baki, the inum or drinking session followed, a way of celebrating, socializing and also disseminating news about the Punnuk. The communities also started to prepare for the Punnuk the following day. They have gathered materials to make the kina-ag and the pakid.

The kina-ag, made of dagami or dried rice straws and vines such as itlig, is an anthromorphic figure that acts like a mascot. Often, it is embellished with leaves such as the deep-red dong-a (Cordyline fructicosa) or palm lily leaves. Each team has their own kina-ag.

During this time, the pakid, a long piece of wood with a hook used in the tug-of-war, was also prepared. It is made of the young trunk of the attoba (Callicarpa formosana) tree, belonging to the beautyberry genus. The trunk is cut and trimmed to form a hook at one end.

The following day, around nine in the morning, the teams of the three communities converged at the Nunhipukana. One could see them, lines of red and white, the dominant colors of their traditional attire, descending from the lush, green mountains and terraced rice fields that were now patches of green, tan and auburn, carrying their pakid and kina-ag and waving dong-a leaves. One could hear their cheers echoing through the fields.

Now assembled at the banks of the rivers, they began teasing and taunting each other. Then the guyyudan began, clashing in round-robin bouts, with the men. In recent years, categories for women and children or young teens were included, a welcome gesture of inclusivity. The participation of the youth is also a way to ensure the tradition is passed on. Such developments are not traditionally prohibited but show how it evolves.

Visitors and guests were also invited to a friendly tug-of-war. This year, a big group of students from National Dong Hwa University in Hualien, Taiwan, arrived to observe the Punnuk. They even participated in the guyyudan.

Other traditional games followed, mostly likely also recent developments, such as bultong (Ifugao wrestling) and uppuhan hi yahyan (underwater breath-holding).

The Punnuk concluded with the throwing of the Punnuk paraphernalia— the kina-ag, the pakid, leaves, etc.—into the river whose currents carried them so that communities downstream would know that the Punnuk has ended. It was also a sign to Binongbong, the rice deity, that the cycle was complete, and the communities believe that he would bless the land for the beginning of another agricultural cycle. Villagers bathed in the river to wash away misfortune, then shared a feast to close the celebration.

While vibrant, the rituals face threats: climate change affecting farming cycles, the dwindling number of farmers and mumbaki, and the encroachment of other religions. In response, the local government passed Ordinance No. 80 (2018), institutionalizing the Punnuk, and issued Executive Order No. 5, creating a task force for its safeguarding. The National Commission for Culture and the Arts continues to support through documentation, community training and other needs.

The Ifugao State University Hapao Campus also contributes to safeguarding efforts. One is by holding workshops for the youth on aspects of the practice, such as kina-ag making. This year, 21 learners participated in their kina-ag making workshop.

For outsiders, the Huwah’s Punnuk is a sport and spectacle. For the Tuwali Ifugao of Hungduan, it is acts of continuing and renewal. Aside from ensuring good harvests, it promotes community cohesion, identity, and resilience.

As the current carries the kina-ag downstream, it carries with it the enduring strength of Ifugao heritage—rooted in agricultural traditions, alive in the river, and tugged into the future by every hand that holds the pakid.