Chicken cage maker raises more than poultry.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | June 01, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, PDI Southern Luzon Bureau
STO. TOMAS, Batangas-Anyone in this province who wants to succeed in the poultry business only need to go to one person.
Even Dr. Miguel Ambal, the biggest poultry raiser in San Jose town, agree.
"Go to Jess Medina and you will have nothing more to ask," Ambal says.
In Barangay San Miguel, Dr. Jess Medina, owner of Jemcy Enterprises, gives the answer in two words: Jess' cages.
Right chicken cage
Known in the province as simply Jess' poultry cage, the steel cage is a product of a 12-month design study that eliminated all the possible problems a poultry raiser would encounter in the business.
"In San Jose, I'm known not just for selling chicken cages, but also for helping the poultry farmer in managing his poultry. But that doesn't end there. I even provide guidance through marketing strategy," Jess says.
San Jose town, which is considered as the egg capital of the province, has the biggest number of poultry raisers in Luzon.
"Seventy percent of all poultry raisers in San Jose are my clients," Jess says. "While in the entire province, 60 percent of the poultry raisers use my cages."
Doctor of animals
A doctor of veterinary medicine with years of experience as resident veterinarian in big poultry farms, Jess discovered the factors that determine the success and failure of the poultry business.
"The wrong practices before were in the wrong way of manure handling that brought discomfort and unnecessary heat, and depleted the necessary ventilation for the chicken," Jess says.
In 1987, he designed the cage that would fit in a poultry building and ensure that the manure is always dry.
"That way, it goes well with the environment and the cages are positioned a lot higher from the ground than the traditional cages," he claims.
Jemcy cages have actually reached the biggest poultry raisers all over the country.
Beside his house in San Miguel, there is a 4,000-head-layer poultry. The only smell one can sniff is that of chicken feed.
The absence of flies is also remarkable.
"The big difference is that aside from being a cage manufacturer, I also use the product in my poultry business. That way, it's easier to know where the error lies," Jess adds, "It also helps me solve the problems faster."
From the 20 layer chickens he started in 1987, he now has 30,000 chickens that lay eggs two to three times a day.
"I used to have 500 grow-outs when I started. Now I have 87,000 heads," Jess adds.
Grow-outs are chickens that are ready to lay eggs and are sold to poultry raisers who don't want to trouble themselves with raising the chicken from chick up.
Business acumen
Jess says his good business acumen was not just developed. He says he learned a lot from his mother.
A son of a former army sergeant, Jess is the second eldest son in a brood of five.
His father died when he was in his second year high school.
From their house in Fort Bonifacio, they transferred to the squatter's area in Bago Bantay, Quezon City. There, the family struggled to make both ends meet.
His mother sold home-cooked food at a small canteen near their house.
That business and his army scholarship helped him finish college.
After finishing Doctor of Veterinary Medicine at the Araneta University, now De La Salle University in Malabon, it was his turn to support his other siblings.
Life was getting better until the recession after the Aquino assassination in 1983.
He lost his job as supervisor at the Mr. G farms in San Luis town, Batangas that same year.
With the P3,500 separation pay he got from the company, he bought animal health products that he sold to poultry raisers in the province.
"To save on lunch that I had for free, I stayed at the Elite Enterprises in San Jose town, where I was their part-time veterinarian. That time, every centavo was worth saving."
Life became more difficult when his wife's former boss tried to get his clients with offers of cheaper animal health supplies.
But he worked to replace one client lost with ten more.
Through rain or shine
Rain or shine, he peddled the medicines in far-flung villages.
"Once in Barangay Galamay Amo, San Jose town, the client's poultry farm was five kilometers from the road. If I hired a tricycle, I would have to pay P100 to get there and another P100 to get back. I chose to walk all the way to my client's farm even if it was raining and the flood was knee-deep," Jess says.
He also peddled T-shirts, shorts and jeans in 1986.
"That time, I would go to my clients with T-shirts, shorts, and pants in my left hand, and animal health products in my right hand. That was how dedicated I was to my work," he adds.
Life was too hard then until he met the town's biggest poultry-raiser who lent him money to start the cage business.
"Dr. Ambal bought poultry supplies from me. In turn, I checked on his farm until he asked how he could help me. That time, they used to buy the flooring of their poultry cages from Bulacan. And I was already seeing some defects in those cages," he adds.
Ambal lent him P20,000, which he used to make 60 poultry cages that sold out fast.
From the earnings of the 60 cages the business grew.
"Now I have saturated the entire country," Jess says.
Environment-friendly
The designs ensure the drying of the manure and provide ventilation to the chickens.
"With proper ventilation, the chicken will not feel any discomfort and will lay more and better eggs, and since the cages are higher from the ground where the manure falls, the chicken are not affected by smell and heat from the manure," he says.
Jess' cages come in black iron, treated iron, powder-coated, plastic-coated, lead-coated, electro-plated, and epoxy-coated.
Jess has not yet patented his cages.
"The poultry cages business started in 1987 but I wasn't able to have it patented. I don't think patenting it can really protect me."
An engineer in San Jose even imitated his design, but his imitated business failed because the engineer does not have the expertise of a veterinarian-businessman like Jess who knows every aspect of the poultry raising business.
Fully automated
"Before, making the poultry cages was very difficult because we had to do it manually. The most difficult part was to straighten the wires and cut them, which took a lot of time and energy.
Later, Jess studied the process and was able to design a machine that increased his production from seven kilos of wire per person in one day to 45 kilos.
A year later, he made a better design that now enables a worker to produce 135 kilos of wire per day, which when turned into cages, could house 2,500 chickens a day.
His manufacturing plant is located in his backyard, including the animal health supply laboratory and the poultry house.
"Before I had only two men working with me, now there are a total of 84 people working at the plant and the poultry farms," Jess says.
In the manufacturing plant and even in the farms, most of Jess' workers are transformed men.who used to be near the edge of trouble.
When he employed them in his company, not a day goes by without his sermon and encouragement for them to improve their lives.
"I always tell myself that I was given this good opportunity to be able to help people and transform them into good people," Jess says. "My non-stop sermon to my people everyday is meant to transform them and develop in them the value of hard work and good work. With that, I was rewarded with responsible people who have malasakit (concern) with the business."
"I have this way of telling them in a very diplomatic and easy-to-understand way that this business is not mine alone. God merely uses this business and me to help them and with that they should take care of this business as if it was their own," Jess adds.
In the town, parents of problem youths come to him to transform their troubled sons into responsible men who are able to reach their full potentials.
For Jess and his wife Marcy, the outcome of every project must not only be good for them.
"We make sure that our clients will earn more. That's why, when we deliver the cages, I also see to it that our clients, especially the new ones in the poultry business, will be guided with the right methods."
When he visits one of his poultry farms in San Jose, the workers make sure that he and his car are completely sanitized.
"That's to protect the chickens from any outside germs that anybody who enters could be carrying. That's how dedicated they've become," Jess adds. "In any business, to be successful, there should be dedicated people to run and maintain it.
Jess says, "As a veterinarian, I provide that lifetime guidance to our clients for free, that's why we have developed relationships with our clients."
His family members also help Marcy, who is in-charge of the production department for the cages.
"I handle the quality control, marketing, and delivery, while my wife handles the production department," Jess says.
"At this early I try to involve my three sons in the business. Gradually, I immerse them in the real world of this business and in our development projects to help the out of school youths," he says.
How much has the company earned since 1987, Jess has no idea.
"Our biggest achievement is not measured in monetary value, but in the value of relationships we have developed with our clients all over the country through the years. Our clients are not just friends, they have be come so close, like family members to us," he stresses.

Sugar farmers learn to drub the grubs.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | July 31, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, Tuy, Batangas
RESIDENTS of Tuy town in Batangas are fighting back -actually, eating back- to get rid of the "salagubang" (June or toy beetles) that have been wreaking havoc on their sugar cane farms.
Although this way of exterminating the pests proved unfriendly to the discriminating palate of the Batangueno, the town successfully held the first-ever "Salagubang Peste-bal" (June Beetle Festival) on July 24. Farmers from Tuy, Calaca, Balayan, Nasugbu and Calatagan towns joined the festival and feasted on live beetles.
"This is what we call a celebration of the revenge of the sugar cane farmers whose incomes have been depleted by the salagubang infestation," Tuy Mayor Boy Calingasan said.
Since 1940, the town has been losing millions of pesos from the infestation, he added.
Losses
Mention the word salagubang and sugar cane farmers would say Tuy. For many decades, the town holds the record of heaviest salagubang infestation in the province.
The Philippine Business for Social Progress (PBSP), a nongovernment organization helping farmers in western Batangas, revealed in a study of the sugarcane industry in the province that Tuy had been losing P40 million to P70 million every cropping year due to beetle infestation.
Dr. Greg Quimio of the National Crop Protection Center of the University of the Philippines in Los Banos, said in a lecture held during the festival that the most destructive stage in the growth of the beetle was its larva period.
"The salagubang larva, or what we call white grub, and what the farmers here call ulalo, lives most of its lifetime in the soil. In its final growth stage, it reaches three to four inches in length, and is equipped with well-developed mandibles that enables it to chew on the roots of the sugar cane," Quimio said.
Grubs
Quimio said the grub could chew even the hardest roots of the sugar cane.
At six to eight months, the larva's root-feeding rampage is considered the most destructive. "In severe infestation, not only the roots but also the base nodes of the sugar cane are eaten by the grubs," Quimio added.
"In those cases, the growth of the plants becomes stunted. Some sugar cane plants lose anchorage and just topple (down). That causes the plant to dry up and die prematurely. In Tuy, we've got severe cases of that every cropping year."
Another study conducted by Dow Agro Sciences, an insecticide company, revealed that under heavy attack, the yield of a six-month-old crop could drop to 60 percent or about 30 tons of sugar cane per hectare, reducing farmers' income to 40 percent.
Adding the cost of efforts to control the grubs, earnings plummet farther to less than 30 percent.
Life cycle
At the end of July, a female beetle lays thousands of eggs on the ground that hatch into white grubs.
During its larva stage from August to December, the white grub feeds on the roots of the sugar cane. By January and February, they bore deeper into the soil by about a meter and form an earthen shell. By March or April, just as the planting season starts, they undergo the pupation stage.
By May or June, when the rainy season starts and the newly planted sugar cane begins to grow, the insect squirms out of its earthen shell and becomes a beetle.
As the beetles are considered a popular delicacy in several provinces in Northern and Central Luzon, the local agriculture office, sugar cane farmers and the PBSP started their festival of revenge.
Gilbert Sebastian, PBSP program officer, said "we were thinking that if we could start that (eating the June beetle) in Batangas, it could be the answer to totally eradicating the pests. Plus, the salagubang could provide farmers with an alternative source of income, viand or pulutan," he added.
The Salagubang Peste-bal included cooking demonstration of Tarlac's famous salagubang recipes like sinangag na salagubang fried beetles, adobong salagubang, salagubang sauteed with tomatoes, chili con salagubang and potato-salagubang omelette.
Cooks Robert Lucas and Johnny Castillo, who hail from Camiling, Tarlac, said their province has actually nine famous salagubang recipes, but they demonstrated only five of them.
"We even have lumpiang (rolled) salagubang, tostadong (toasted) salagubang, paksiw na salagubang, sinigang na salagubang, ginataang (cooked with coconut cream) salagubang and salagubang barbecue," Castillo said. "I have been eating salagubang since I was a little boy and I think that's the reason I'm healthy. Salagubang is rich in protein."
Lucas said that since the people in his village in Camiling started eating the insect, their sugar cane farms became more productive.
Fear factor
The festival also included a pageant for the best salagubang mascot, salagubang wrestling tournament and salagubang flying contest.
Representatives of various farmers' groups and cooperatives joined the contests.
The event also challenged the Batangueno's stomach as part of the program involved the salagubang eating contest.
The first part of the "Fear Factor" challenge involved transferring as many salagubang as the participant's mouth can carry from a basin into an empty container.
Nineteen men and two women joined the contest of eating 20 cooked salagubang and 10 live ones.
For the prize of P5,000, seven elimination round contestants joined. But the contest proved to be too unfriendly for the stomach of some of the contestants as some of them vomited right in the middle of the contest.
The taste
Even Tuy's mayor had a taste of the cooked salagubang.
Trying to evade the people's clamor to see him eat the insect, Calingasan first offered the delicacy to the town hall's department heads.
When a TV crew, complete with cameras focused on him, he, too, ate the salagubang.
Asked about the taste, Calingasan said: "It tastes sour and delicious, and crunchy. Don't worry, it's clean."

Ceramic firm out to battle China tiles.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | July 02, 2005 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
STO. TOMAS, Batangas-For the country's biggest manufacturer of ceramic tiles, having high quality replacement products is the best way to fight the rampant smuggling of China-made ceramic tiles.
"Quality-wise, the smuggled ceramic tiles that come from China fall way below our standards," claimed Eduardo de la Rama, Mariwasa Manufacturing Inc. (MMI) external consultant.
The 41-year-old MMI is the biggest in the Philippines and has installed the longest tile decorating line in Southeast Asia at the plant in Barangay San Antonio of this town.
MMI's plant that sits on a 24-hectare property started operations in 1997.
Raw materials from local sources, such as red clay from Nueva Ecija and lahar from Pampanga, are used to produce world-class ceramic tiles exported to Australia and Southeast Asia.
MMI has pioneered the manufacturing process for vitrified floor tiles, big-size wall tiles and third-fired ceramic tiles.
"Another big advantage we have over smuggled tiles is our availability of replacements. Whenever a tile breaks, we always have a ready replacement with the exact quality of the broken one," De la Rama said.
But like all the members of the Association of Tile Manufacturers of the Philippines, MMI was also affected by the rampant tile smuggling.
Only six months ago, 49 container vans of China-made tiles reportedly arrived at the Batangas port.
Out of the 49 container vans, only 29 had the permit from the Bureau of Customs, but all of them were smuggled out of the port.
The smuggled tiles cost P5 a piece while locally made tiles are priced at P10 each.
"From January to May, the sales of local tile manufacturers went down. It was only this June that sales were able to pick up. Smuggling really affected the local tile industry, but then, when the people who bought the imported tiles discovered that the China-made tiles break and tarnish easily, there was no replacement," De la Rama said. Mei Magsino-Lubis, PDI Southern Luzon Bureau

Batanguenos show devotion to Sto. Nino in 9-day festivities.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | January 16, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, Batangas City
FOR THE PAST nine days, Batangas City has been alive with celebrations that started with a fluvial procession on Jan. 7 at the Cumintang River to honor the Holy Infant Jesus, more popularly known as Sto. Nino, whose statue is believed to have floated from Cebu to Batangas some 420 years ago.
The festivities, which culminate today, also featured the harana (serenade) and a tribute to the Sto. Nino.
Old folks say their patron saint has been saving the city from bad calamities and misfortune.
For an industrialized city where residents maintain more than four centuries of devotion to the Child Jesus, the returns have been big.
"We celebrate the feast of the Sto. Nino as our way of thanksgiving for the continuous blessings that the city has been getting," Mayor Eduardo Dimacuha said.
"Here in Batangas City, there has never been a big disaster, heinous crime and kidnapping incident," Dimacuha said. "Ours is a peaceful city because of the guidance and blessing of our patron saint."
According to a historical profile of the city, a statue of the Sto. Nino was being transported to Cebu in a ship when bad weather forced the vessel to seek shelter in the coves of Batangan, as what the city was then named when it was still a pueblo (town) because of the huge logs called batang that were found there.
Batangan, in the 1580s, was part of Marcial Goiti's encomienda, a large tract of land granted by the King of Spain to his subjects for meritorious services to the crown.
Singing Te Deum hymns, the vessel's crewmen brought the image of the Holy Infant to the altar of a small church on the shore. It was the site of the old Batangan Catholic church that was first established by a Franciscan friar, Diego Mexico.
The small church, made of bamboo and nipa, was dedicated to the Nuestra Senora de la Immaculada Concepcion.
Soon after, the storm miraculously abated and the image continued its voyage to Cebu. But it never reached its destination.
Batang gas
A few months after the incident, a deaf-mute boy found a statue of the Sto. Nino on a floating batang near the banks of the Calumpang River behind the church. That same time, it was reported in the parish church of Cebu that the image of the Sto. Nino was missing.
When the child gave the statue to the Catholic Church, the officials of both Batangan and Cebu parishes presumed it was the lost image. Both parishes decided that the statue be returned to Cebu.
But strangely, every time the statue was shipped back to Cebu, a storm would suddenly occur and prevent the ship from sailing. After many failed attempts, the church officials and the gobernadorcillo of Cebu agreed to let the image of the Holy Infant stay permanently in Batangan.
According to the historical profile, when the child found the Sto. Nino in the river, the batang log strongly reeked of gas. The people started calling the image "batang gas" and later changed the name of their town to Batangas.
Devotion
As a tribute, Batangas City celebrates the feast of the Sto. Nino every Jan. 16, preceded by nine days of civic and religious rites and festivities.
On the first day of the fiesta, the Sto. Nino ng Batangan was taken to Barangay Wawa for the fluvial parade in the Cumintang River. Choirs from the parishes of the city serenaded the Sto. Nino as the devotees sailed on.
Later, the image was brought to the city's main streets for a procession. This was followed by a novena Mass at the Basilica of the Immaculate Concepcion.
From the second up to the last day of the celebration, different groups from all sectors of society paid tribute to the patron saint with cultural presentations and dancing of the subli.
Other highlights were a children's art competition, a photo contest, the search for the Binibining Lungsod ng Batangas, battle of the bands, a civic and military parade, and a small band competition.
The celebration ends today with a Mass.

From 'carinderia' to Republic of Cavite.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | December 02, 2002 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino
TRECE MARTIRES CITY-Spanning three generations of first-rate cooks whose passion for good food transcends time and distance, Town's Delight The Caterer has not just conquered the palate of the entire Cavite province, it has even built its own Republic of Cavite.
"The passion for good food started with Mama Cely, my mother, who, for 30 years has been in the food catering business in Cavite," Andrew Pacumio, Town's Delight manager, said.
"Then I followed her footsteps, and then one of my nieces is now also in the business. The passion for good food is in our blood," he added.
The passion for good food, which is in Pacumio's blood, has its extension in Batangas, as the president of its most sought-after caterer-Juan Carlo-The Caterer-engineer Alex del Rosario, is Andrew's first cousin.
"After 30 years in the business, the Republic of Cavite is the ultimate statement of our legacy of serving the good food that Cavitenos have enjoyed for so long now," Pacumio said. "Building this is a combination of three decades of hard work while loving that work, passion for food, and the family's aspiration to come out with the best service in the food catering business."
At the recent opening of the Republic of Cavite, the three generations of chefs, along with the late President Emilio Aguinaldo's descendants and the province's top brass, waved the Philippine flag in front of the masses of
people like a scene from history books.
The only difference is, instead of attacking a Spanish garrison, the people attacked the buffet table, where a festive breakfast awaits.
Carinderia
Town's Delight The Caterer started as a small carinderia in Tanza town in 1972 with Cecilia del Rosario-Pacumio, known in town as Mama Cely, as its cook, marketer and manager.
Mama Cely, a teacher by profession, admitted that her first love is cooking, not teaching.
"First love never dies," she said. "So I decided to concentrate on cooking."
Her husband Josefino Pacumio, who was working abroad at that time, financed her small business.
The small carinderia gained popularity with its good food and artistic presentation and in no time, became a household name in town. In less than five years, it expanded to include catering business and a bakeshop.
Jardin de San Antonio, with a seating capacity of 250 people, was established in Tanza town; followed by Gardenia Cecilia in Naic town, with a seating capacity of 500 people. It was followed by another Gardenia Cecilia in Trece Martires City, with a capacity of 180 people.
On Nov. 18, the Republic of Cavite, with an Aguinaldo ancestral home-inspired design, was inaugurated at the back of the city hall, right at the heart of the city.
"People have always asked me why we put up the Republic of Cavite in Trece Martires City," Pacumio said. "I would always tell them that this city is the heart of Cavite, and its booming now."
Hardwork
But being a manager of the province's biggest catering business is not a piece of cake for Andrew, whose first job was as a social worker in the Smokey Mountain for six years.
An AB Economics graduate from San Beda College and loaded with a master's degree from UP Diliman, he also served as an instructor in Bataan. But like his mother, his first love was also cooking.
"Ten years ago, I decided to manage the business," Pacumio said.
"Like every economist, I treat every project like a mathematical equation. That helped a lot, coupled with hard work, good food and service, the people never forgot the name and by word of mouth, we got free advertisements and referrals," he added.
When Pacumio started managing the business 10 years ago, it boomed to conquer the entire Cavite province and even the greater Manila area.
Pacumio is a two-term director of the Food Caterers Association of the Philippines.
Town's Delight now has a monthly television appearance in a morning show's portion to promote the catering business.
Recently, it catered to the Miss Earth International Costume Competition held at the Casino Filipino in Tagaytay City.
Juggling a booming catering business, Pacumio still conducts lectures on the food service industry to many colleges and universities in Cavite.
"I never got over my fondness for teaching," he said. "I even took my lectures to Town's Delight and trained our people. It's better to get new people to train and mold as it develops employee loyalty. Most of our bakeshop workers and employees have been with us for as long as the Town's Delight lives."
With over 300 workers trained by the human resources department, which Pacumio himself set up to develop the skills of his people, the teacher in him was utilized even in the food business.
But for Pacumio, the best training starts with the family.
"My wife and my mother are both chefs. My father is our consultant. A close cousin is also in the business, and the next generation is also showing good signs of getting into the industry. We're a family of chefs whose biggest
clients are the Cavitenos and the greater Manila area."
Republic of Cavite
"If there is a Republic of the Philippines, and a Republic of Malate, why shouldn't there be a Republic of Cavite?" Pacumio said. "This is actually one of Town's Delight's biggest dream-to make a landmark in Cavite."
According to architect Richie Corcuera who designed the building, the concept of the Republic of Cavite building was to capture the Aguinaldo shrine and to turn the restaurant into a landmark in Cavite's capital city.
The two-story building is patterned after the Aguinaldo mansion in Kawit, Cavite, where the proclamation of Philippine independence took place on June 12, 1898.

Vinegar saves mammals from extinction.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | February 21, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, PDI Southern Luzon Bureau
INDANG, Cavite-From the lowly sukang irok or sugar palm vinegar that is being peddled in the streets of this town, a couple formerly engaged in the frosted bottling business discovered a gold mine that changed the meaning of vinegar and helped save endangered mammals.
Arenga vinegar from a variety of sugar palm tree known as kaong or irok (Arenga pinnata) is now bottled into frosted bottles sealed with roll and pilfer-proof caps and has already reached as far as Los Angeles and Japan. It was the preferred vinegar of the international chefs who joined the recently held "chefs on parade" in Manila.
Sukang irok
But Vie and Basil Reyes, owners of Bote Central Inc., the company that develops and bottles the vinegar, have more and bigger plans to sustain the vinegar business that revives history and could save the endangered palm civets (Paradoxorus hermaphroditus) or locally known as alamid, the musang (Paradoxorus philipinesis) and the cloud rats.
"With Arenga vinegar, we also hope to change the culture of vinegar into a delicious drink that can be displayed on the dinner table like wines," Vie said, as she finished her glass of vinegar juice.
Arenga vinegar mixed with honey and ice makes a good tasting energy and drink. The juice tastes like a perfect blend of pineapple, orange, mango and passion fruit juice that has been stored for a long time.
"In the morning, you can have Arenga vinegar as a health drink as it really will energize you," Basil said. "But in the evening, mixed with vodka, it's now called 'let's drink'."
The couple had been in the frosted bottling business for eight years. In fact, the former company, Braveheart Inc., was the only company in the Philippines that made frosted bottles for a liquor company. A local perfume company also bought the small frosted bottles.
But when the two companies stopped ordering frosted bottles two years ago, the couple started searching for a business where they could still use the equipment, plant and the machines they invested on for the frosted bottling business.
"Last year, we were really in the lowest low when Vie and I passed by Indang and saw a peddler of sukang irok on the highway," Basil said. "We bought some vinegar and were impressed when we discovered where it came from."
For two months, the couple studied the vinegar, processed it, and bottled it into frosted bottles.
The couple had found a new business.
Only sugar palm vinegar
Vie and Basil discovered to their amazement that what they had found in town was the world's only sugar palm vinegar from the kaong tree.
It takes the tree 10 to 15 years before it can be tapped for its sweet sap used in making the vinegar.
The Arenga pinnata tree has a life cycle of about 15 to 22 years. If propagated by man, the tree has a shorter life span.
In Indang, the abundance of sugar palm trees is mainly due to its natural propagators, which are the alamid, musang and the cloud rats.
The alamid climbs up the tree, eats the kaong fruit, goes down and excretes the seeds into the ground. From the kaong seeds that have been exposed to the alamid's stomach enzymes, the trees grow healthier and longer.
Unfortunately, like the Arenga pinnata, their numbers are diminishing as they are caught for pets, sold, or worse, some local folks would even kill the alamid and cook it for pulutan.
The cloud rat, also an endangered species that is only found in the Philippines, also uses the tree as its habitat.
Price of urbanization
The kaong trees used to abound in the ravines of Cavite-from Carmona to the towns of Mendez and Alfonso. But urbanization has greatly diminished their numbers.
Vie and Basil found a thriving colony of kaong trees only in Indang, where natural springs provide them with water.
The couple started buying vinegar since March last year. At first it was not easy for them to buy the sukang irok but became easier as they made friends.
Another difficulty was the fact that only a few mangangarit (palm tree caretaker) are still engaged in the job of getting the sweet sap of the kaong's flowers that is used for making the vinegar.
Collecting the sweet sap of the kaong tree is never easy. A mangangarit has to check and rock the flowering stalk once everyday until the flowers bloom and attract hundreds of fruit flies.
Only then will the flowering stalk be ready for tapping and collection, as the mangangarit would cut the stalk where the sap would drip. The mangangarit would collect the sweet sap in the morning and the sour sap in the evening, climbing as high as 7 meters using bamboo poles.
The sap is collected using a bamboo container known as the tukil.
The sweet sap is then placed in vitrified earthen jars or tapayans used for fermentation and covered by a katsa or cheesecloth to keep it clean, and by coconut leaves to keep the temperature low as the vinegar is fermented in the fields outside the house.
According to Vie, they only use the earthen jars from Vigan called Burnay.
Burnay jars
Like the kaong tree and the alamid, the craft of making the Burnay jars is also fast disappearing.
Only the Burnay jars are the earthen jars that could be used for fermenting the Arenga vinegar.
Fermentation of the vinegar inside the Burnay jars takes three to four weeks before it is taken to the plant. At the plant, aging takes another eight weeks to the least before the vinegar is finally bottled.
"We use a roll or pilfer-proof cap to seal the bottles," Basil said. "That's to keep up with the international standard and to keep the quality of the vinegar."
"We even monitor the individual samples of vinegar from each jar for microscopic and chemical analysis," Basil said.
"We do a lot of processing to make sure that every bottle of vinegar maintains its consistent flavor and quality."
According to Vie, unlike other vinegars, Arenga vinegar is all-natural. "There is absolutely no chemicals added to Arenga vinegar. It's all natural and pure. Not even water is added to it."
The vinegar comes in two blends. The first is the classic vinegar, which tastes sweet and sour, and later, the Rosemary, which is infused by rosemary herbs for a more sour taste.
Saving endangered species
Since the couple started the vinegar business, they have also taught the people of Indang the importance of the kaong tree and the alamid.
More aware now, Indang town folk have stopped killing the alamid. They have also participated in the couple's drive to preserve the kaong trees.
Happy Earth, a local nongovernment organization, recently formed the Arenga conservation initiative.
On Feb. 8, Dr. Domingo Madulid, Botany Department head of the National Museum, and mammologist Dr. Arlene Arboledas, known for her study of the Bohol tarsiers, headed the conservation initiative with representatives from different sectors.
Since the couple put up the Arenga vinegar in market, clients from all over the country, Los Angeles and Japan have started ordering the product.
Using their frosted bottles, Vie and Basil even used the real Arenga fiber as rope tied around the neck of the bottle in the packaging of the vinegar.
"The Vinegar Man who put up a vinegar museum in South Dakota has even invited us to put the Arenga vinegar in his museum after he tasted our vinegar," Basil said.
"It's not just any ordinary vinegar," Vie said.
"Although its perfect for adobo and dips, salads, and pickling, you can also drink it afterward. We use it as health drink mixed with honey. It can also be mixed with alcohol as a cocktail drink," he added.
The vinegar business is not just a business for the couple. A part of the cost of the product is allocated to the conservation of the kaong trees in Indang and the search for places in the country where the endangered palm tree can still be found.
"When we decided to go into the Arenga vinegar business, our hopes were not entirely on the business side," Vie said.
"We hope to maintain clean rivers, as well as to save the Arenga pinnata trees and the lives of those beautiful endangered animals that thrive in the kaong tree. And most importantly, we wanted to help the farmers' financial well-being," Vie added.
"Our hopes with Arenga vinegar is to make the conservation efforts in Indang successful," Basil said.
"If we become successful in Indang, we can replicate the project all over the country."

Blast fishers invade Mindoro Strait.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | December 12, 2002 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, Mamburao, Occidental Mindoro
RODOLFO Inanda, who owns an artificial fish sanctuary called payaw, was looking forward to a good haul of fish this season. It was only this year that Occidental Mindoro did not experience a typhoon and he knew that the catch would be bigger than before. For two more weeks, Inanda and his men waited before going out to sea. Getting the boat ready with food, fishnet, and fuel supplies already cost him P12,000, but that's okay, he thought. This time, the fish in the payaw would be more than enough to double his investment.
Inanda used to harvest as many as 14 banyeras (tubs) of fish in the payaw. Each tub contained 40 kilos of fish that he sold to the market.
The abundance of fish in the sanctuary has even attracted giant tunas that grows as big as 60 kilos each.
When Inanda arrived in the sanctuary, he found that his payaw had been blown up. What remained were floating dead fish, wires, buoys and nets that dynamite fishers left behind.
Underneath, the coral reef that serves as habitat and other marine creatures was also destroyed.
"We're supposed to get more fish this season and we have invested big," Inanda said. "Now, we have nothing. And all of us, including our family, will go hungry."
'Payaw'
Most fishermen in Occidental Mindoro own a payaw, which costs P50,000 to P60,000 to build, according to Inanda.
The structure, whose area varies from 25 to 100 square meters, is surrounded by nets attached to four steel poles anchored by cement-filled drums at a depth of 50 meters. A flag attached to a buoy warns big boats of its presence.
Nipa leaves sometimes cover the surface to lower the water temperature, thus attracting more fish. This makes the payaw a haven for the giant tunas.
When it's time to haul the fish, the owner sends someone to dive into the sanctuary to inspect the bounty of fish inside. Then the nets are cast. For two and a half days, harvesting goes on until as many as 12 banyeras or 480 kilos of assorted fish are filled.
After the hauling, the payaw, is returned to its original structure, where the fish can thrive again and marine ecology can prosper anew.
At this time of the year, giant tunas would have been abundant even during the rainy season. Not anymore. They have migrated elsewhere, another payaw owner said.
Dynamite fishers
Dynamite fishers have started wreaking havoc in the Mindoro Strait since July, Inanda said. "They have big boats used by commercial fishers," he said.
"Once, one of our fishermen was inspecting his payaw when a big boat came. He was driven away from his own payaw as he watched the people from the big boat blast his payaw."
Inanda had his own encounters with commercial fishing boats that now resort to dynamite fishing.
"Our five payaw were located at the Calavite Point, at the farthest end of Paluan and between Lubang Island and mainland Mindoro. It was daytime when the dynamite fishers came and blasted our payaw until nighttime, and even in the next days. They had been blasting payaws day and night," he said.
Among the payaw destroyed by the dynamite fishers were those of Philman Gold Fishing Corp., Vajeo, Arriane and RAV companies, owners in the capital town of Mamburao said. The companies own at least five payaws each, they said.
But what puzzled Inanda and the other owners was that the dynamite fishers were selective in their query. They would haul only sardines and mackerel from the blasted payaw that contained many species of fish.
"It's disgusting to see fish blasted by dynamite," another owner in Paluan said, "In dynamite fishing, the fish recovery is only 15 to 30 percent. The rest go to the bottom and rot."
Defenseless
The big boats are also equipped with high-tech gadgets. When a diver checks the payaw, he sees eight to ten bottles of explosives that were used to blast the structure.
After the destruction, the sanctuary is left with the scattered parts of blasted fish, rendering the payaw useless.
Payaw owners and other fishermen have identified some of the boats used by the big dynamite fishers in their area as the MV Noel, MV Jessica, MV JR, Maritime, and three others, according to Inanda. But they seemed resigned to their fate.
"If the Coast Guard can't do anything to stop the dynamite fishers, how could we fight them?" one owner from Mamburao said.
Mamburao has only one Coast Guard personnel armed with a .45-cal. pistol, the owners said. The dynamite fishers have machine guns to scare away small fishermen and payaw owners.
The fishermen and payaw owners from Paluan to San Jose towns, who rely on fishing for their livelihood, have lost the fishing industry that once boomed in the province.
Half of Mindoro Occidental's population of 400,000 are fishermen, and fishing used to be its second primary industry, next to rice.
Unpaid debts
Baby Bico, a fish trader who owns a fish buying station, said the fishermen and even payaw owners had been heavily indebted to her since July.
"When fishermen go out to sea, they borrow money for me to buy fuel, food and ice to preserve the fish," she said, "When they come back, they sell their catch to me and pay their debts. But now, they can't pay anymore. Their catch has dwindled since July and they have nothing to pay me."
An ice plant owner also lamented that some fish traders had not yet paid for the ice they ordered from him.
Even stevedores at the fish ports, who used to get free fish from handling banyeras, are now going hungry.
At the local market, prices of fish have doubled or tripled, while the once-abundant tuna is gone.

Hungry days over for Mangyan tribe.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | December 05, 2002 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, Mamburao, Occidental Mindoro
AFTER WHAT seems to be a painful joke about Mangyans starving in Occidental Mindoro, one of Luzon's food baskets, the Iraya tribe celebrated a thanksgiving ritual on Nov. 23 to express gratitude for a good harvest and invoke prayers for more food to come. In their language, Iraya members prayed over organic rice, chicken and pork laid on the table under an acacia tree. Nearby were the rice fields that they have cultivated.
Men, women and children left their homes in the mountainous settlement area to join in the ritual, which was followed by a prayer in Filipino.
The elders thanked God and the people who helped them recover from starvation and diseases that hounded them seven months ago.
A sumptuous feast followed. Tribal members cooked pansit bihon (rice noodles) that symbolized long life and better harvest.
Every year thereafter, the Mangyans would mark Nov. 23 as thanksgiving day and celebrate the event. For the first time, they would be assured of a real merry Christmas.
Good harvest
The people have reason to celebrate. Their harvest last month from the 10.5 hectares of land that Jaliri Farms has lent them since July produced 60 to 65 cavans of rice per hectare, or five to ten cavans more than the National Food Authority's standard per-hectare yield.
"We have surpassed the NFA standards and we will never again go hungry," village leader Eddie Maligaya said in Filipino.
Maligaya said 21 families living in the settlement worked in the ricefields. Together, they would clean the fields and plant rice.
"Our system was to work together at the start," he said, "but after planting, we divided the field equally among us. That way, we eliminated laziness among the group members, as nobody would expect anybody to take care of the entire field. When we divided the field, each of us took care of our own rice paddies and even competed for the cleanest and biggest yield."
Starving no more
Seven months ago, the Mangyans who have settled in Barangay Tugilan in Mamburao town were discovered to be subsisting only on nami (wild yam). Malaria struck most of them, as they had little means of sustenance and not enough nutrients to combat the disease.
Their unirrigated ricefields had dried up, and for their source of food, they looked up at the mountains for wild yams, which were already scarce as a result of over-harvesting.
Nami can only be found in the mountains and half a sack of the root crop is good only for a single meal of a small Mangyan family. In such family, however, there are ten children to feed.
It takes a day or two to dig half a sack of nami, which is peeled, dried, washed in the river, dried again, pounded and boiled in water. The nami paste contains no other nutrients but carbohydrates.
The laborious process is necessary to take away the poison of the wild yams. Last year, five Mangyans died after eating yams prepared the wrong way.
The other food source then was the shallow river where they picked edible small snails.
That tragedy happened seven months ago. Mentioning nami now and the Mangyans would sneer.
"Why should we eat nami when we already have rice? If we used to eat nothing but nami and snails in the past, now we eat rice," another village leader, Amado Daluson, said. "From now on, as long as we work together, we will never go hungry again."
Organic rice
The Iraya is the most timid among the Mangyans tribes in Occidental Mindoro. Its members had gone hungry and had suffered from various ailments for a long time, but they do not go around town to beg for alms.
After a report on the starving and sick Mangyans appeared in the Inquirer, help came.
According to Maligaya, aside from the land that Jaliri Farms has lent them, the Municipal Agriculture Office gave each farmer a cavan of rice seedlings worth P300.
Mamburao Mayor Allan Aquino also gave ten cavans of rice seedlings, while other local politicians contributed four more cavans.
Maligaya said their other expenses were paid from their harvest. The rent of a hand tractor they used to plow the fields was paid with six cavans of rice per hectare of plowed field.
For their irrigation system, they relied on the Tugilan River.
"We grew organic rice," Maligaya said, "We didn't use any chemical fertilizer and pesticides. We took care of our fields as we pulled out all the weeds so the plants would grow better."
With their bountiful harvest, Maligaya said they would return the cavans of seedlings to the town's agricultural office, the mayor and the other politicians who helped them.
The rest of their harvest, he said, would be saved for the rainy days.
"We thank God that the El Nino [weather phenomenon] didn't put us down," he said. "And we thank God for the people who helped us become self-sufficient."
Community effort
Maligaya said only half of the Mangyan community, comprising 80 families, was active. And their participation in cultivating rice has done them good.
Teresita Gilagid, now nine months pregnant, was the frail woman whose photo with her baby appeared on the Inquirer seven months ago. She said she and her husband, who were given half a hectare of rice field as their share, harvested about 30 cavans of rice.
"When you took my picture last April, I was thin, hungry and tired," she said, "Now I'm bigger, full and healthy. These fields have given us a new hope. We're hoping that we'll be blessed with the same bountiful harvest next year."
In January, the Irayas will again plant rice. They are planning to adopt crop rotation to improve soil fertility and gain better yields.
"This Christmas, we won't be going around town to ask for pamasko (Christmas gifts) because it doesn't look good if we would always ask around," Maligaya said. "We're hoping that for a change, people will come to our village."

Mangyans starve in food basket.

Philippine Daily Inquirer
 | April 25, 2002 | Copyright
Byline: Mei Magsino, Mamburao, Occidental Mindoro
IN WHAT appears to be the most cruel joke in the province known as one of Luzon's food baskets, the Mangyans of Occidental Mindoro have been subsisting on poisonous mountain yams and unsafe freshwater snails since December last year.
Worse, malaria has spread among the Mangyans, according to a village leader.
This, while the town mayor recently purchased a Toyota Hi-Lux pickup worth P1.1 million.
Five kilometers from the poblacion of the capital town of Mamburao is Sitio Tugilan, a Mangyan settlement in Barangay Tayamaan where 30 Mangyan families live on nami, a wild, poisonous and fibrous yam they dig from the mountains.
The Mangyan settlement's "vice mayor," Amado Dalusong, said the last time they planted palay was in December last year.
"The problem is, the earth has dried up and cracked because there is no more water," Dalusong said in poor Tagalog.
Three of the four hectares of the settlement area are used for farming, and each family has its own field. Huts and banana trees are found in the remaining land.
The Mangyans plant rice only during the rainy season. Last year, their one-hectare rice field produced only 10 sacks, which were divided among the 30 families.
The people eat rice only after the harvest season. The last time they did was before the May 14, 2001 elections when candidates campaigning for local government positions handed out rice and canned sardines.
With the onset of the El Nino weather phenomenon, it would take eight months more before they could eat rice again, unless an election campaign starts again.
Dalusong, along with his family and entire neighborhood, and probably all the Mangyan settlements in the entire province, still does not know that the El Nino is coming.
But even before drought began to parch their land, they have been subsisting on nami since December, supposedly their month of "tag-sagana" (season of abundance).
Nami
The deer and wild pigs they used to hunt are now gone because there are no more forests in the mountains. Persistent kaingin (slash-and-burn farming) has contributed to the disappearance of the forests.
When the male Mangyans cannot find nami, their wives would go down to the river and pick snails that they boil and eat. But the children have remained thin and frail, and their bellies have become swollen, which could indicate affliction of schistosomiasis or snail fever.
Ed Datos, 52, a Mangyan who has lived in the settlement for more than 20 years, said he has seen bad times in their place, but this is definitely the worst.
"There is no more nami even in the mountains. We have to go to the other side and the far mountains to dig nami. Often, we can't even get half a sack," Datos said in Filipino.
Even Rodolfo Plopino, farm manager of the nearby Jopson Aqua Livestock Integrated Resources Inc. who visits the settlement every three months, was shocked when he learned about the situation of the Mangyans.
"The last time we visited was in December when we gave out food and clothes," Plopino said. "Back then, they still had enough food to eat."
Malaria
For a family of nine, half a sack of nami is enough for only one meal. After that, the family goes hungry again, waiting for the next harvest.
To squeeze out the poison and fiber from nami, the root crop is peeled and sliced into thin strips, and washed in the river. The sliced white flesh is dried for a day and soaked in water overnight.
The strips are pounded and placed in a clean cloth to squeeze out the poison, after which these are again dried in the sun.
The dried nami is ground into a white powdery substance, sprinkled with water and cooked over wood fire. Only then can the Mangyan family be able to eat the yam.
Datos said five Mangyans have already vomited blood after eating nami processed the wrong way.
Since the Mangyans have nothing nutritious to eat and the nearby Tugilan River has become a breeding place of mosquitoes, the entire settlement has been stricken with malaria, according to Dalusong.
The people have gone to the provincial hospital to seek medical treatment. "But nothing happened since we were given only paper prescriptions. We have no palay, that's why we have no money to buy medicine," Dalusong said.
Malaria usually attacks people with weak immune systems. In the Mangyans' case, the nutrition they get from eating only nami once a day has made the entire village susceptible to the disease.
The settlement is only five kilometers from the poblacion. Those living in farther settlements could have been suffering more.
Up to now, there has yet been no report of deaths.
According to Plopino, this could never have happened had the Mangyans been given a water pump to irrigate their rice fields.
"If they had a water pump, they could have harvested rice last March," he said, "But it's not yet too late for that now. If they could have a water pump now, they could still be saved from the El Nino."
Mamburao Mayor Allan Aquino said help was on its way, and the Mangyans just have to ask for it.
"The problem with the Mangyans is that they don't come to me to ask for help, to ask for what they need," Aquino claimed, "But if they will come and ask for assistance, we can grant it."

Globalization, liberalization worse than blight.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | January 10, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino
(Second of a series)
LIPA CITY-As the glory days were enjoyed at overstated levels, quarantine practices meant to protect the local coffee industry lagged. People, products and even diseases reached the country.
After about 150 years of getting rich over the world's addiction to caffeine, the coffee industry was hit by blight.
Known as coffee rust, or "bagombong", the virus wiped out many of Lipa's coffee trees. Until now, its origin is still unknown.
When the coffee industry recovered after World War II, the Philippines again became one of the world's top coffee producers. Since 1992, however, coffee production gradually fell, as coffee growers started replacing their coffee trees with higher value crops such as pineapple and mango.
Jose Mercado, chair of the Merlo Agricultural Corp., said globalization and the entry of imported coffeethat competed with local beans forced coffee farmers to stop propagating coffee. Imported coffee from the world's top coffee exporters, such as Brazil, Vietnam and Indonesia, were sold at lower prices.
Slowly, the coffee trees were cut down.
Worse than blight
For coffee farmers, globalization seemed to be worse than the coffee rust that almost wiped out their industry.
For former Army Col. Nicetas Katigbak, who owns a 30-hectare coffee farm, the biggest in the city, reviving the Barako coffee is not practical for now. In his coffee plantation, the biggest in Lipa City, he has no Barako tree either. What he has is the Robusta variety, the coffee bean much smaller than Barako. He supplies coffee to the Nestle factory in the city, which manufactures the instant coffeeNescafe.
Falling prices
But Katigbak is not even happy with the way the price of coffee is going.
"During the time when the price of coffee was still high, that was 1985 to 1986, I thought planting coffeewould be profitable," Katigbak said, "So I started planting coffee in 1986. But then the price went down, and I decided to switch into mangoes."
In Katigbak's farm, coffee trees grow in-between mangoes.
Not practical
"I used to have about 35,000 Robusta and Exelsa coffee trees, but now there are only 20,000 left as I have cut most of the trees," Katigbak said, "It's not practical anymore to invest in the coffee business."
He said the reason he planted coffee was to revive the Robusta coffee industry.
"But when it comes to the Barako, I wasn't able to get any Barako coffee here in Lipa. That's why I have only Robusta and Exelsa in my farm," Katigbak said.
Katigbak's farm used to have a garden that cloned Robusta Coffee.
He said there used to be a group of coffee traders from Makati, and some coffee processors who initiated a move to propagate the Barako coffee in 2000, but they did not push through after Edsa 2.
No continuity
"Two years ago, the Department of Agriculture started a program to revive the coffee industry. Coffeeseedlings were given out to farmers, but when the new administration took over, the project also stopped. That's the problem. There was no continuity of the program. Up to now, there is still no effort from the government to revive the coffee industry," Katigbak lamented. But he said he also sees the need to bring back the Barako.
"I'd love to plant Barako coffee. The problem now is that there is no more material for that variety," Katigbak said, "I used to be in the business of cloning Robusta in my clonal garden. Maybe I could do that with Barako."
Katigbak, who belongs to the coffee-trading families of Lipa City, recognized the ills that affected thecoffee planters.
"When globalization set in, our local coffee was beaten up by the imported coffee, which is much better in quality and much cheaper," he said, "And do you know why the imported coffee has better quality and is much cheaper? That's because the farmers in other countries who grow coffee are getting government support. Ours don't. For the coffee growers, who would dare propagate Barako when there is no government support?" (To be continued)

Import lib: Final nail in coffee growers' coffin.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | January 11, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino
(Third of a series)
LIPA CITY-According to studies conducted by the Figaro Foundation Corp., the Philippines was earning at least $150 million a year in coffee exports.
Coffee had always been one of the country's biggest dollar earners until 10 years ago.
About 200 years ago, the Philippines was on the list of the world's top coffee producers-as the fourth largest coffee-producing nation. And the biggest coffee producer used to be Lipa, Batangas.
Today, the Philippines produces only .012 percent of the world's coffee supply and even imports more than what the country used to export.
The country now makes only around $500,000 a year from coffee and only 10 percent of the yearly harvest is exported.
The fact that coffee production has dropped is odd, considering that the local demand for coffee increases by 3 percent each year.
The local demand for the year 2000 was 60 million kilograms. Production, however, was a mere 45 million kg.
Pricing woes
Figaro's study cited two major causes of the death of the coffee industry.
One is that the local coffee growers had no control over their coffee prices. The world price and the big local buyers dictate the local price. As such, there is no way the farmers can guarantee themselves a profit.
The second major reason, according to the Figaro study, was the conversion of the once-rich coffee plantations into industrial, commercial or residential land.
Like in Lipa, most of the lands that used to be coffee plantations were transformed into commercial, piggery, poultry and subdivisions.
The technology problem was also cited as one of the causes of the death of the coffee industry. In many coffee countries, coffee production is largely mechanized, cutting down on time and labor cost.
Declining hectarage
In the Philippines, except for the larger coffee farms, nearly everything is done by hand, which is labor and time intensive. The smaller farmers cannot afford even the most basic machines like hullers.
Infrastructure is another problem. There are not enough farm-to-market roads. Thus, getting the yield to the markets is difficult.
As a result, many farmers whose families have planted coffee for generations have sold their land or have switched to planting more profitable crops.
In the last 10 years, the country lost about 80,000 hectares of coffee farms. Only about 120,000 ha of productive coffee land remain, mostly concentrated in the mountains of Batangas, Bukidnon, Benguet, Cavite, Kalinga-Apayao, Davao and Claveria.
The biggest problem has emerged with the lifting of the ban on coffee importation. Local farmers are worried that it may put a severe dent on the demand for locally produced coffee.
About 60,000 to 80,000 coffee families are left but their number continue to fall. Thus, the Figaro Coffee Co. created the Figaro Foundation Corp. whose thrust is to boost coffee production and provide aid to the last remaining coffee families.
Boosting production
"Our effort might look like a drop in a bucket," Chit Juan, Figaro director, said, "But we know that we will gain wider and stronger support if we just continue to revive the coffee industry. We started the move to revive the Barako in 1998. On April 2002, after four years of hard work, President Macapagal-Arroyo called us to Malacanang to start the National Task Force on Coffee." (To be continued)

Figaro in race to save the Barako.

Asia Africa Intelligence Wire
 | January 13, 2003 | Copyright
(From Philippine Daily Inquirer)
Byline: Mei Magsino, PDI Southern Luzon Bureau
(Last of a series)
IN 2000, Barako became the focus of Figaro Foundation Corp.'s efforts. As a result, the then nearly extinct Barako has become a staple in many local coffee shops and restaurants, as well as Filipino homes.
"With the help of Dr. Andy Mojica of the Cavite State University, we at the coffee task force searched for the Barako tree all over the country and determined if it was really the Barako," Figaro director Chit Juan said.
The Barako farm in Barangay Dagatan at the coffee town of Amadeo in Cavite-Figaro Foundation's pilot farm-has 2,000 Barako trees planted and tended to by the resident farmers.
The Barako pilot farm is a two-hectare land owned by the family of Amadeo Mayor OJ Ambagan donated to Figaro to help revive the coffee industry.
"Barako was chosen for this project to save it from extinction, and also because it fetches a higher market price than Robusta--the variety most commonly grown in Cavite," Juan said. "The latest price on Robusta coffee is P45 per kilo. With Barako, it's doubled to P90. It's worth the effort."
"Coffee is one of our town's biggest sources of income," Ambagan said, "and it is our duty to help develop that. We now have the Pahimis (thanksgiving) festival, which is also called the Coffee Festival, in February to further boost the coffee industry.
The national average yield of coffee is only 500 kilograms (half a ton) a hectare or two kilograms of green beans per tree every harvest.
Since coffee is harvested once a year, that is also the figure per year.
In Cavite, however, where programs have been implemented to boost production, the average coffee tree now yields three tons a hectare or six times the national average.
That means a boost to the production of up to 12 kilograms a tree, and a whopping 1,200 cups of brewed coffee from a single tree in a single harvest.
The project is envisioned to increase the income of coffee farmers from P15,000 per hectare per harvest to as high as P85,000 per hectare per harvest.
Involved in the project to revive the Barako are Juan, Ambagan, Amadeo councilor Rene Tongson, Andy Mojica, National Coffee Task Force team leader.
According to Juan, the foundation was supposed to start a program to revive the Barako in Lipa City in 2000.
"But the problem with Lipa is that there is no cooperator in the local level who, like Mayor Ambagan, would donate a land for us to plant the Barako and provide support to maintain the farm," she said.
The Leisure Farms in Tagaytay City has also devoted one hectare for the foundation's drive to revive the Barako. It now has the irrigated Barako farm where a thousand Barako trees have been planted.
Figaro Foundation is constantly in search of good ideas and opportunities to save both Barako and the local coffee industry.
"The program is to plant Barako to about 22,000 hectares of farm in five years all over the Philippines. We need to plant 100,000 Barako trees within the next five years for it to survive," Juan said. "We have already planted at least 4,000 hectares in Cavite and have identified another 4,000 hectares in Mindanao."
Juan said the Figaro Coffee Co. has also launched a program in its every cafe to help in the drive to revive the Barako.
"For every pack of Figaro coffee that you buy, P10 goes to the foundation to revive the Barako," she said.
For Juan, Lipa City might have lost its title as the coffee capital of the Philippines, but the fate of the Barako does not stop there.