mining the meek

FOOL'S GOLD Landslide in Compostela Valley due to excessive (illegal) mining 

While it is true that the meek shall inherit the earth, it has never been a guarantee that he should also automatically inherit its mineral rights. In fact it is even more ironic that he considers himself the owner of his own “earth”, considering that most of it were verbally handed down from his ancestors who, foot and claw, tried their utmost resolve to secure that yutang kabilin to the next generation.

We have all been witnesses, since the ascension of that ancestral domain problem in our social quandary, that that piece of ore has initiated in other areas a glaring rift between those who tried to preserve their identity and those who tried to get a piece of it. We have all been witnesses, somehow, that the threat has cured some of these harassed residents of mining that gold, and who found mining a chance to get by with life, to go back to farming and preserve their own.

There have been a lot of mining promises in the past, and until now much of it are still in that long lousy list of lip services, waiting to be broken; a wearying repetition to an unsuspecting miner, either by taking that rare leap of luck or simply being lured into the quagmire of mining possibilities. We just can’t get enough of that Diwalwal fatigue that we would go the extra mile of pawning our belongings to the highest bidder to finance our insatiable craving of that ore underneath the earth.

Recalling a case of a former co-worker, now living in Campbagang, Surigao del Sur, that the only reason he came to Surigao, he said, at an early age was the promise of an abundance of gold reserves hidden beneath the alleged Campbagang area, only to find himself empty handed in the end. The only viable mining prospect he encountered were those bits of mercury extracted from one of the barangay ‘s tributary rivers.

The gamble he took nearly starved him to death as he was forced to find other means to feed himself since he has no relatives in Surigao. Looking back, he said, he should have stayed then in his native Tagum and finish high school than braving all those allure to an unknown territory all for the glitter of that gold.

The case of those Mate residents in Tagbina, Surigao del Sur, a year ago was almost circumstantial. The blessings of gold reserves in their area carried them so far to that plateau of sustained income that would give them a new lease on life. But because of a collaborated vested interest that feeds on an alleged private mining firm, this new lease on life has triggered an avalanche of dispute, from a measly land row to a possible civil strife.

We have all been witnesses to these kinds of harassment. Not even a self-proclaimed billionaire in Red Mountain could escape the possible threat of dethroning him from being the czar of that gold rush, in which he has practically made a living out if it, from a poor trisikad driver to a big-time businessman in his own right. Although much of his abduction was marred by controversies of bribe, little did we suspect that the realness of that gold can easily make or break your transactions on that side of the beleaguered mountain.

It may be debatable too to grant those minerals hidden beneath that yutang kabilin to the residents of the area since it takes, at least, a sense of formality (a document or two), according to those mining pundits, to extract even a tinge of ore, or a kilo of it, out from the earth.

But out of this same formalization also that much of its row has gone overboard, that a mayor wanted to have a piece of it, an army colonel spinning inside a whirlpool, a former rebel taunting a retaliation and a billionaire allegedly bribing the abductors, and all for the glory of that mineral that is altering continually every bit of their lives every now and then.

Yes, the meek will never inherit that mineral rights, because as far as the dula is concerned, he has never inherited the earth, in the first place. It is almost blasphemous to even utter that beatitude in front of the breakfast table, it will only spoil your morning.

Never. The mayor wont allow it, the colonel will be neutral about it, the former rebel will back off from it, the billionaire will always be mum on it and we are all witnesses to it. That right will never grow any mineral even with humility around.

While we may be inclined to believe that there are no shortcuts in life, the promise of that ore would stab itself off as a blunt object to that spineless adage, and marvel at the spectacle of how that same promise could dictate the inner workings of our culture in a way that only the strongest, the powerful, and the rich could tap and turn it into something, in their own terms, beneficial.

If we could only convert the value of that ore, no matter how idealistic it may sound like in print, to exploit that natural resource for the benefit of the region, either through mining development or a utilitarian work for the preservation of our cultural identity, not just in exploiting these hapless residents for digging purposes and ugom the benefit afterwards, that we still have something to inherit from this mild, meek earth, without resorting to violence and vested interests.


(photo, migs.wordpress.com)