Just recently, during the “Octoberians” press conference, Atty. Roland Calde, regional director of the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples – Cordillera Administrative Region (NCIP-CAR), announced plans to transform the BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall into a cultural center. This declaration made in October—Indigenous Peoples Month—holds immense significance for the Cordillera indigenous peoples (IP) community.
The BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall, originally intended to serve as dormitories and a safe haven for IP students, has faced numerous challenges over the years.
Its reclamation in 2017 from illegal settlers marked a pivotal moment in the fight to preserve and reclaim this vital space. As a former IP student who witnessed firsthand the struggles associated with the BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall, I wholeheartedly support the regional director’s vision.
During my student days, our cultural activities were often forced outdoors, far from the intended BIBAK/BIMAAK facilities. We endured harsh weather conditions and faced discrimination simply because we sought to preserve and celebrate our indigenous heritage.
The BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall is more than just a building; it is a physical repository of the rich cultural heritage and a symbol of the resilience of the Cordillera indigenous peoples.
Many of the region’s early IP professionals, leaders, and politicians walked the halls of the BIBAK dormitories during their student days in Baguio, from the 1960s to the early 1980s.
Inside its walls, tribal affiliations were set aside, and all Cordillera tribes identified as “Igorot.” The BIBAK dormitories served as a safe haven—a place where petty disputes could be resolved peacefully and friendships forged across tribal lines.
I had the privilege of speaking with a former resident of the BIBAK dormitories, who shared the profound impact the space had on his life. He described it as a place where he felt a sense of belonging and camaraderie. The walls of the BIBAK dormitories witnessed countless conversations, debates, and shared experiences that shaped the future of the region’s indigenous communities.
In a poetic sense, the BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall is a place where generations of indigenous peoples have come together to learn, grow, and inspire one another. It is only right that we remember the countless individuals who have passed through its doors and the enduring legacy they have left behind.
Its transformation into a cultural center would provide a dedicated space for IP students—many of whom have been detached from their “ili” or IP communities—to reconnect with their heritage, learn traditional skills, and participate in cultural activities. It would also serve as a valuable resource for researchers, scholars, and the broader community, fostering understanding and appreciation of indigenous cultures.
The timing of Atty. Calde’s announcement is both serendipitous and symbolic, considering that October, Indigenous Peoples Month, centers on the theme of respecting and celebrating cultural identity. It is a reminder of the ongoing struggle for IPs and the importance of revisiting our cultural heritage to reconnect. The declaration also serves as a call to action, urging local stakeholders and the broader community to support the realization of this vision.
By transforming the BIBAK/BIMAAK Hall into a cultural center, we can create a lasting legacy for future generations of indigenous peoples. It will stand as a testament to our resilience, our cultural richness, and our unwavering commitment to our identity and history as IPs.
As fate would have it, my personal journey mirrors the BIBAK Hall’s own trials and triumphs. Once denied access by a defunct paramilitary group during my student days, I later found myself employed by the NCIP in 2017. There, I had the opportunity to witness and contribute to historic reclamation, exorcising the very ghosts of the past that had once kept us away.
Now, as a final act of poetic justice, I eagerly anticipate the day of the BIBAK cultural center’s ribbon-cutting—a new dream I hope to see realized in the coming years.
By Rocky Ngalob
