How strong community spirit and reconnection to farming help this community of artisans in Lake Sebu survive Covid-19
Photos by Sesotunawa
Joel Blunto can vividly recall how he started learning the art of Temwel (brass-casting) at the age of seven, the normal age for a young child in Lake Sebu to be introduced to the craft that is passed on from one generation to the next. At 15, he was already a skilled tau temwel (brass-caster). Now 41, he continues to learn the craft, applying the meticulous process in producing new pieces.
THE MEANING OF SESOTUNAWA
Blunto, a Tboli from Lake Sebu, is the proprietor and co-founder of Sesotunawa Craft, an enterprise started by a group of volunteers who went the extra mile to make sure that artisans like Blunto would know how to run their own business.
Sesotunawa comes from two Tboli words—sesotu (to make one) and nawa (spirit).
According to Karl Lozano, co-founder and lead volunteer of Sesotunawa, they launched the Sesotunawa Project in December 2017, working with Blunto and other artisans to develop and sell their own products. Between May and June of 2018, Blunto was able to save enough money to register Sesotunawa as a business entity.
Covid-19 happened, however, and the Sesotunawa artisans now face decreasing sales and, from fewer to no bazaars, a lack of venue in which to sell their products.
“Nabudlayan kami sakaron nga sitwasyon na mon. Mabudlayan kami sapag pamaligya tungod sa ininga Covid-19, wala kami sang kustomer. Parehas sa amon kay ga-online man kami. Ginagmay lang amon. Perti gid ka budlay sa sitwasyon namon (We are having a hard time. It’s hard to sell nowadays because we do not have customers. We sell online. We are just a small business. It’s really hard),” Blunto told Manila Bulletin in an interview.
Lozano said before the pandemic, the artisans were busy preparing for bazaars every other month. “Nung wala pang Covid-19, malaking contribution sa livelihood nila yung nakakasali sila sa bazaar (Before Covid-19, joining bazaars contributed a lot to their livelihood),” he said. “Kasi at least, after every month may income from the bazaar. (At least after every month they would have some income from the bazaars). In the pandemic, there are no more bazaars because mass gatherings are now prohibited. Around this time last year Sesotunawa earned about ₱100,000 plus in bazaars alone. That’s roughly ₱175,000 from bazaars and online sales channels combined. Now, we barely hit ₱20,000 per month on online channels.”
RETURN TO AGRICULTURE
When the lockdowns were implemented and the profits from Sesotunawa started to plummet, Blunto and his fellow artisans in Sesotunawa, including his family, decided to go back to farming.
“Nagdesisyon kami pag-umpisa sang lockdown kay walay customer. Siling ko saila magbalik kita sauma para may pagkaon kita. Para dili na kita mabakalsa pang gulay, para medyo tipid ta sang—para dili ta mag-gasto sang kwarta para may sarili ta nga—halimbawa, maka-harvest ta nga gamay. May madugang sa income para makabulig sa pamilya (We decided to go back to farming when the lockdowns started because there were no customers. I told them, let’s go back to farming so we can have our food. We don’t have to buy vegetables and we can save money. We can also harvest some for selling as additional income to help our families),” Blunto said.
He could not remember when he went to the farm for the last time before the pandemic. He said what he could recall was that he helped his parents in the farm as a child.
Lozano shared that even before they started Sesotunawa, the market demand for crafts in Lake Sebu led “almost all artisans to concentrate on arts and crafts.” “Focus na gyud sila sa brass casting dahil nga na-introduce na yung demand sa market mas naging reliant sila sa craft for a time (They were focused on brass-casting because they were introduced to the demand of the market and they became more reliant on the craft for a time),” Lozano said. “This was the lesson that Kuya Joel shared to us in our session during the first few months of the pandemic. It was like a big learning for them. That they should not have been dependent on the craft alone. They admitted that they overlooked (farming). Now with the pandemic, the brighter side of this darkest time is seeing the value of returning to farming.”
Today, Blunto’s family and seven other households cultivate a one-hectare farm land, which they inherited from their parents. They plant bell peppers to sell to the market, while they tend to their backyard farms where they plant corn, sweet potatoes, and root crops like cassava and karlang.
ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL
When they decided to pursue their farming venture, not all artisans had money to shell out as their initial capital. Some contributed money, others helped in the labor, according to Blunto. “Magbinulig ay bisan teenagers ug mga asawa (The young ones and the wives helped),” he said.
The first crop they planted when the pandemic started were tomatoes, which they have harvested five times since April. But the profits were not that good. Blunto recalled getting between P200 and ₱700 from each harvest.
According to Lozano, who witnessed the pivot of the brass-casters from craft to agriculture as a result of the pandemic, the artisans also incurred losses. “Challenging din yung kamatis na tanim. It was their first crop after a long time na (wala sa farm) parang andami ding kailangang matutunan (Planting tomatoes was challenging. It was their first crop after a long time and they had a lot to learn),” he said.
Blunto said they learned to manage their finances more efficiently. “Ang ginahimon amon gatipid kami para maka-budget kami. Ginabudget-budget namon para maka-survive sakin inga pandemic. May ginabulig sa amon ang mga volunteers, mga bugas, gina-share share na mon sa community (What we do is we save money. We budget our money to survive this pandemic. When the volunteers give us help, like rice, we share it with the community),” he added.
A CULTURE OF SHARING
As volunteers, Lozano and the rest of Sesotunawa draw inspiration from the values of sharing and community building in the artisan community. They are witnesses to how the value of sharing helps the community of artisans survive the crisis. “I think that is also part of their coping mechanism, which is very natural. Hindi nila maatim na sila busog yung kapit bahay hindi (They can’t bear to eat while their neighbors go hungry). And that kind of value is really what Sesotunawa is about,” he said, adding that when they started the project, they wanted Sesotunawa to be the brand name.“It is the value that captures the entire identity of the craft communities. Hindi nawawala yung kahit lugi, hatian nila yung lugi. Natural naman sakanila ‘yun (They even share the losses. It’s natural for them).”
Indeed, the values of Sesotunawa, which are comparable to the spirit of bayanihan, are what the Tboli community of artisans wishes to impart to the public in these trying times.