A fortnight ago, this space introduced a book that came out in 2012. I’m convinced it needs to be promoted and propagated even more, well before its sequel is published.
I understand from Imelda Sarmiento of Hortica Filipina Foundation, Inc. that Philippine Native Trees 101: Up Close and Personal, published by Green Convergence for Safe Food, Healthy Environment and Sustainable Economy, and HFF Inc. will soon have a follow-up, to be billed as Philippine Native Trees 201.
In her preface for this pilot volume, Green Convergence president Angelina P. Galang, Ph. D., writes:
“This book was written as a tribute to our native trees and to encourage their use. By using native trees in our urban areas where half of our people dwell, we bring to the attention and appreciation of Filipinos the beauty and bounty of our natural heritage.
“… Per hectare our country probably harbors more species than any other place on Earth. The Philippines boasts of 3,600 identified native trees. Of these, 67 percent are endemic, found only in our archipelago.
“However, it is also a fact that many of our native trees are disappearing. This is due to deforestation, replacement by invasive species, and monocrop plantations that propagate only commercially popular varieties. Sadly, another major reason is preference for exotic or alien flora. These are desired either as a status symbol or because of their wider cultivation in other countries and thus, more constant supply. Non-use endangers the existence of our very own.”
If indeed it’s an impropriety to be attracted to alien species, I must confess to have fallen victim to this syndrome. A favorite tree of mine, which I’ve nurtured for the past several years and now proudly lords it over our front pavement, is what’s called the Brazilian annatto, which I first noticed displayed in a former neighbor’s yard over a decade ago.
From October to January, it sports these attractive clusters of bright red pods, brighter than those displayed by our native achuete.
I recall that I tried to pluck a pod cluster hanging over that neighbor’s wall, and got reprimanded by a crusty old lady from her window, heh heh. It wasn’t until years later that I got seed pods from a gardener in Puerto Princesa. It took years to raise one in a pot, until I transplanted it to the ground outside our front wall. Now it’s grown to over 10 feet high, branching out broadly, and it’s unarguably the prettiest tree on our block, hosting as well in its upper branches some overhanging tendrils of pink cadena de amor (Queen Anne’s Lace) that trails profusely from inside and over our front wall.
I have several others growing on pots, and continue to give away these seedlings. In turn have I received, from friends, enviable species that I never had. Among these gifts, from poet-architect Cesar Aljama who loves to raise perfume trees, are a kamuning (also growing in that front pavement) and a species locally called swimey (now in our front yard, a slow grower), both of which he says comes up with fragrant flowers.
Safe to assume that the kamuning must be either indigenous or endemic. Yes, the book verifies that it’s indigenous (Distribution: India to China, southward to Australia and Poynesia, Philippines…), per the entry by Fernando B. Aurigue, horticulture plant breeder, who writes:
“The Kamuning is my favorite tree in the city because it survives varied conditions, still blooms profusely after experiencing a dry spell, and attracts the pollinator insects and birds around. I consider it the most precocious flowering plant I ever grew.”
I’m not sure about the swimey. I’ve also nurtured a sinamomo or cinnamon tree for half a decade now. It’s also in our small front yard. Again I’m not sure if this is considered an exotic, alien species.
Given my fondness for the quaint and unique, I’m not totally convinced by the argument that imported species can toll a death knell for our native own. But I’m willing to listen.
It was Ime Sarmiento who sent me this book after a serendipitous encounter at Filinvest Havila in Taytay where she supplied specimens of native trees for the centennial tree-planting in honor of San Beda College’s Fr. Benigno Benabarre who’s turning a hundred years old this May.
Ime argues that the popular species we see around us — “unfortunately non-natives: mahogany, firetree, Indian tree, neem tree, gmelina, sword acacia, eucalyptus tabebuai” — crowd out native species, to the point of creating “horror stories,” such as on Mt. Makiling which has been taken over by mahogany since that species was introduced by the Americans.
Maybe these “horror stories” can be detailed and clarified. I recollect reading, for instance, that the acacia tree familiar to us, Samanea saman, also called Monkey Pod or Rain Tree, was brought over by the Spanish friars, presumably from Latin America where it proliferates. Related species inhabit Australia and “some” tropical countries, I have since learned. But if our regular acacia was indeed imported, it doesn’t seem to have done any damage to our landscapes. In fact it has beautified provincial roads and highways, especially when they’ve aged, as well as campuses all over our country. UP Diliman, Silliman University and the Ateneo campus in Loyola Heights wouldn’t be so clad in majestic green were it not for this acacia.
With no intent to try out any clever pun, I certainly hope I’m not barking up the wrong tree. And thus conducting any improper argument. In this book, a case is made for the indigenous acacia confusa or Ayangili by landscape designer Ronald Achacoso, as against the invasive acacia magnium and other similar species from Australia, which he claims has caused him to acquire “a xenophobic disdain for non-Philippine trees.”
As I’ve said, I’m willing to hear out our horticultural advocates if they say we ought to rein back on importing more foreign species in favor of our Pinoy ones. Ideally, these species could co-exist, which is not to say that we shouldn’t favor reviving or propagating native trees.
In any case, the book is such a fine read, as it’s actually an anthology of personal experiences with each of the 108 specimens that make up this first collection. And these brief narratives come with terrific photographs.
Another contributor, Raymund B. Villanueva, ends his piece thus: “In the rare instance that I hear Agoho branches whistling, my mind is ignited by idyllic schoolyard memories. I wish for younger generations to have the same joys I had playing under those majestic trees. Planting and nurturing Agoho in our public spaces now would be a good start. Perhaps, like me, tomorrow’s children could build memories with needle-like leaves, sharp brown conifers and the ringing laughter of many a schoolyard game.”
Retired Ambassador Rosario G. Manalo contributes the following, on the Bagawak Morado:
“Today, my four pairs of Bagawak are almost six feet high. But surprise of surprises, they have been bearing beautiful flowers; those of my friend have not. ‘My trees are male,’ she sadly says. ‘Yours are female.’ How lucky of me, I was quietly telling my chauvinist mind… this fact confirms my belief that indeed in every ultimate sense, among all living species, the female prevails superior over the male.
“Four of the trees have white flowers, the other four have lavender ones. And their attraction is that these beauties have long, spindle-like petals clustered together like bursting stars. They exude no perfume, but their beauty is enough to excite the senses, especially when seen swaying with the gentle breeze among their bed of leaves.
“I am not informed about any medicinal usefulness of this tree. Be that as it may, my Bagawak today stand majestically tall by my balcony, shielding my every early evening from the glowing light of sunset, as their deep purple and dark red shadows playfully spill over the pink tiles of my veranda and the green carpet covering my lawn. These trees are now very much a part of everything I consider exquisite in my existence.
“A prettier name than Bagawak? No, the eight trees I have will always be ‘my Bagawak.’”
Now, that is why this book is appropriately sub-titled “Up Close and Personal.”
Dr. Galang explains it in her Preface:
“This book was written to help gardeners, landscapers, and pertinent government offices in their choice of trees for urban areas. Though there are other, more technically written books on this subject, the project team decided to introduce our native trees with the personal touch. We requested known and not-too-known botanical aficionados to share their experiences about their favorite trees. It is our hope that the light manner of presentation will draw more Filipinos to the joy of planting and nurturing our very own.”
Indeed, it does. And there is joy in flora, their variety, beauty, and use. Fascination, too — as in this final item/quote, from Dr. Jaime Galvez-Tan, former Health Secretary, another staunch advocate through the “Red Lions’ Living Highways: Let’s plant native trees” project:
“Locally known as Bagras, or in the international botanical world as Mindanao Gum, indeed the Mindanao Eucalyptus is so far the most beautiful eucalyptus I have seen. I have had the opportunity to visit the Blue Mountain forest in Australia and the Bagras is beyond compare to the hundreds of species of eucalyptus there. …(W)e have only one species, the Eucalyptus deglupta, and it happens to be the most beautiful of them all!”