By Genno Rabaya and Zarelle Villanzana
Hibalag booths as an architect of community
“Architecture began as a response to nature,” expressed Professor Gerard Lico, writer of Arkitekturang Filipino: A History of Architecture and Urbanism in the Philippines (2008).
When the early Filipinos emerged from caves, they built their first forms of shelter with wooden skeletons and vegetative animal skin. Later, the more familiar treehouse came to be, constructed from the trunks of one or more mature trees.
There are no houses built among the acacia trees in Silliman University, but August still paves the way for many wooden structures to stand alongside them in the Ravello Field. After all, the Hibalag festivities of the Founder’s Day celebration cannot begin without the prerequisite building of booths of every participating organization.
This is where Hibalag starts.
Hibalag, a Cebuano term meaning “to get together,” is practiced weeks before the Founder’s Day commencement, as students come together to draft their booth design and plan the acquisition of materials. Later, they continue to construct and eventually dismantle their temporary homes.
Balai set in Silliman
Balai is the Malay word for house, more commonly spelled as balay in the Visayan region. It would refer to traditional houses like the Bahay Kubo, which Filipinos lifted together on their shoulders, collectively carrying the weight of the house wherever they decided to set it down.
The balai was not far from Hibalag booths in character, with their elevated living floors, buoyant rectangular volumes, raised pile foundations, and voluminous thatched roofs. Students prominently used light materials such as lumber and nipa, and eco-friendly decor would be utilized to match the annual theme.
With the guidelines provided by the Committee on Student Organizations (ComSO) and the Facilities Management and Administrative Services department, these temporary shelters ensured simplicity, safety, and sustainability—three factors that have upheld tradition for many years.
Hunt for the hut
Building does not come before the gathering of goods. This was the tricky part for most, as each organization’s source of material varied based on their budget and capacities.
For instance, booths of the SU College of Nursing Association (SUCNA) and the Medical Technology Society (MTSOC) are built from lumber materials conveniently acquired in Dumaguete.
SUCNA Internal Vice-President Ivan Anthony Adaro shared that their supplier, Albert Construction, sources their materials from their own lumber yard in Bajumpandan, Dumaguete.
The owner of the company, Albert Panday, said that there are more buyers of wood during the Hibalag Festival, however, it leaves a little impact on their total sales as it is only a one-time thing every year.
These days, “Talagsa ra ang kahoy,” he shared. “Concrete [materials] na ang labi.”
(It is rarely wood [being bought].) (There are more [buyers of] concrete [materials].)
In contrast, other organizations crossed towns in search of cheaper material with more varied options. This was necessary for many, as securing the right materials within their sufficient budget also meant venturing for more resources.
For instance, the Philippine Institute of Civil Engineers (PICE) and the American Concrete Institute Philippines collaborated and reached as far as Tanjay City, while the United Architects of the Philippines Student Auxiliary (UAPSA) arrived as far as the municipality of Dauin.
“We decided to buy in Tanjay because it was more affordable there,” PICE President Ryan Balucan said, referring to their coco lumber sourced from Arjo Lumber Supply.
Balucan explained that there was a difference of ₱6 to ₱9 compared to buying lumber pieces in Dumaguete, which they deemed more cost-efficient and worth purchasing.
Meanwhile, UAPSA President Rexander Valeriano affirmed that materials outside the city are relatively cheaper.
“We started looking first sa mga may (that have) supplies na cheap then naabot mi sa (we reached) Genalyn Lumber Supply [in] Tandayag for our structural lumber,” he said.
Valeriano added that they went further south to Dauin to also retrieve lipak materials from Kawayan Collective, while materials for their blinds and facade were purchased from Eureka Native Products in Dumaguete.
Vernacular building
With every part of their booth built with precision and a background of design in mind, it is no surprise that the UAPSA bagged the ‘‘Best Booth” award again this year—a feat the organization has achieved annually since the pandemic.
“[I] love how we, as arki students, get to experience construction since field namo,” Valeriano said, sharing how their students collectively work for their yearly booth construction.
Despite their upperhand knowledge, the essence of Hibalag is still encapsulated most when all participating organizations, even those outside fields of construction and design, are capacitated to create their own “balai”.
On the construction of vernacular buildings, Prof. Lico wrote, “Related to their environmental context, they are hand-crafted by the owner or by members of the community, requiring no assistance from design professionals such as architects and engineers, utilizing technologies learned only through tradition.”
Now, entering the picture are the carpenters who sped up the process for organizations classified by the COMSO as type-B, lightening their load.
“Ika-tulo na nako ni nga year,” a carpenter mentioned, as he started taking down the Cuernos de Negros Mountaineers Club Inc. booth.
(This is my third year [working in Hibalag].)
He was helping SUCNA dismantle their booth when the former organization tapped them to extend their services for them. With ₱500, panels of amakan and lipak were taken down with a sundang (machete) held by him and two other carpenters.
Taking breaks, he spoke about wood variations, to the salary-grade system in the country. Later, the conversation arrived at his father being a Barangay captain, and how they lived in a place enveloped with many members of a rebel group.
“Musaka, mangita’g kaon (the members). Maoy ilaha gyud. Unya pagkahuman, mulakaw ra dayun sila. […] Basta di ra gud hilabtan, samot na ang mangita ra gud ug kaon, i-welcome ra gud na nila,” he shared.
(Climbing up, looking for something to eat. That’s what they do. Afterwards, they just leave. […] As long as they aren’t disturbed, especially those who just look for food to eat, they (his father) just welcome them.)
Even through unfamiliar identities and opposing political stances, the concept of community has always run deep through Filipino roots.
“Ug mag-hibalag mo, dili man lang gud nato tuloan ug dugo. Ug magsabot ra gud, sabot ra kutob,” he furthered, referring to their relatively peaceful transactions with the rebel members and his grandfather.
(If you come together, just don’t let blood be shed. If we just understand [each other], just deal [with each other] in peace.)
For a short span of 11 days, the Hibalag grounds briefly felt like a mini province, closely mimicking the way it once was.
“Vernacular architecture embodies the communal, symbolizes the cultural, and concretizes the abstract,” Lico further wrote. “As a product of a material culture, the balai is where the values and beliefs of its builders and users culminate.”
Weaving tides of heritage through wooden booths, Sillimanians are taught to embrace creativity in the face of simplicity, adapting in ways their historical roots have proven them capable.
In many ways, this is how a community is built.
