Home and land: a personal reflection on identity and what it means to live with(in) the land

Our surroundings shape our identities, and culture is born from the landscapes and realities of our world. Home is not just a physical structure; it’s a profound connection to the land that sustains us. Recognizing this connection and learning from those who understand it best can build consciousness for approaching restoration work.

My name is Javie, a storyteller, community organizer, and the 2024 Forest Restoration Steward of the Global Landscapes Forum. In Culasi, my hometown in the Philippines, our work centers on involving frontline communities in restoration efforts through a holistic and inclusive process of incorporating traditional knowledge and addressing systemic needs and concerns. Scaling the conversation on a growing community of practice focused on bridging socioeconomic gaps in building ecologically resilient communities.

For us, restoration goes beyond landscapes and ecosystems. We understand that it’s also about restoring agency and power to the people who were stripped of them by a system that perpetuates a false idea of progress as extraction. At Dulungan Youth, our goal is to create a more equitable and just reality where basic needs are met, and innovation serves the well-being of all.

(Video Credits: Javie Barcinal Edited by: Meg Padpad)

Dreaming a world beyond socioeconomic disparity 

“What is your dream?” is a question I’ve been answering since my earliest school days. At age five, my answer was a simple reflection of my surroundings: “I want to be a seaman.” My father, a retired seafarer who worked tirelessly overseas, fueled this dream. Seeing him provide a more comfortable life for us through his work heavily influenced my young mind.

Over the years, as my consciousness grew, so did my dreams. From becoming a “seaman,” my aspirations shifted with each passing year. I dreamt of being a chef, a chemical engineer, a broadcast journalist, and even a lawyer. Interestingly, none of these childhood dreams foreshadowed my current path—working as a community organizer for biodiversity conservation and climate justice. My younger self was conditioned by societal expectations, leading me to chase after professions promising wealth and grandeur.

Since founding Dulungan Youth in 2019, my journey has taken unexpected, and hopeful turns. Driven by the realities of a rapidly changing climate, shifting ecologies, and stark economic disparities, I decided to collectively find ways to lessen some of these unprecedented issues here in my hometown and across Antique in the Philippines. 

My childhood home was near the foothills of the Central Panay Mountain Range. This area boasts unique wildlife and some of the Philippines’ last untouched forests. But despite its rich biodiversity, this region has been largely ignored in national development plans. It might seem like a quiet town lacking cultural attractions, tourism, or resources to exploit, however, this offers a glimmer of hope. Unlike other areas, this landscape, teeming with life, still has a chance to be protected.

In 2019 I organized a group of young people and created the organization Dulungan Youth to mainstream community-led biodiversity conservation in our home province. We’ve been working for years to create connections between young people and the landscapes of our hometown. We’ve organized biodiversity camps, art and ecology gatherings, and public education campaigns about the Dulungan (Rufous-headed Hornbill), an endangered hornbill species endemic to Panay Island in the Philippines. These efforts have led us to a crucial question: how can we promote slow, mindful, and equitable ways of living with(in) the land? 

Community planning

During the first half of 2024, we spent considerable time in Alojipan, one of the few upland barangays (smallest administrative division in the Philippines) in our town. This is the primary focus and location of our restoration work with the Global Landscapes Forum. 

Over four months of consultation and casual conversations with the community in Alojipan, we’ve established deeper relationships and gained a less biased understanding of their way of life and their strong connection to both community and land. Through these interactions, we created a vision together to protect biodiversity while increasing access to food sustenance.  

The co-designed community learning site for conservation, restoration, and agroecology situated at a sloping location near the river bank in Alojipan. (Design Credits: Tonio Flores)

We held design sessions with the community and were able to co-create a plan for the community learning site, to include a nursery for vegetables and native trees. Over the coming months, these plants will grow, and the space will bring together community knowledge of diverse cropping methods, sustainable use of indigenous materials in establishing the tree nursery, and intergenerational practices of soil cultivation. This wisdom comes from farmers, women, and community leaders who have lived with(in) the landscapes of Alojipan for generations.

Co-designing the site plan together with the community. In photo: children and mothers putting the facilities, trees, and vegetables they want to have in the site. Javie Barcinal

Deepening the relationship with the land

Slowly, situated knowledge, one rooted in the lowland forests of Mt. Madjaas unravels itself while our team cooks a meal and eats together with the community. An elderly woman, who has been living off the land, recounts being able to support herself and her family by wildcrafting non-timber forest products and cultivating produce from her small patched garden: tambo (bamboo shoots), cassava, palawan (a taro species), bananas, and a variety of vegetables. Others would bring food and different gifts from the forest: fruit of a zingiber species, makol (a large maroon-ish mushroom), sweet and sour fruits gathered from the surrounding forest. 

Wild mushrooms (local name: makol) foraged by Nong Dodoy, a local of Alojipan, from the nearby forest. Javie Barcinal.

That day, we all cooked and ate adobong makol (a Filipino dish made with mushrooms), and sinigang (a sour soup made from orang or river shrimp). Only then did we proceed with designing the workshops on agroecology, tree nursery establishment, agroforestry, and creating the site plan together for the community space, food garden, and tree nursery. 

I live more than a 10-minute motorcycle ride away from Alojipan, but spending more time there has allowed me to learn more stories about the town and the surrounding area. One such story revolves around the origin of the community in Alojipan. Many residents have roots that trace back to a blend of forest dwellers and lowlanders who sought refuge in the mountains and forests during the Japanese occupation in World War II. Additionally, some locals settled there due to personal connections, with spouses hailing from the Barangay.

Community canvas

On 18 May of this year, following our initial consultation with the locals of Alojipan, we gained a clearer perspective on how socioeconomic insecurity is driven by systemic causes that diminish the priority given to local conservation and restoration efforts. These were evident in themes like: income inequality, lack of social safety nets, job insecurity, and limited access to basic needs.  

A community member actively shares her reflections and questions during the time we introduced the project to the whole community of Alojipan last May 18, 2024. Sharmaine Blas.

That day, the Barangay Captain (the community leader), invited us to participate in their scheduled monthly community meeting. With nearly all households represented, it was an ideal opportunity to introduce our project, emphasizing its focus on integrating cultural perspectives in the restoration work we will be doing. We structured the initial workshop around creative modalities, drawing inspiration from the placemaking framework of creating a community canvas. This approach aimed to explore the diverse and contextual definitions of “community” within Alojipan, highlighting how personal identities and experiences influence this subjective meaning.

We asked:

1. How do you experience interacting with the land and others in Alojipan?
2. What are your dreams for yourself, your family, the project, and the community?

Community members actively write and draw their experiences living with(in) the land during the placemaking workshop. In photo: a youth member joins the activity and draws something on the community canvas. Javie Barcinal.

The responses were direct and practical, mostly shaped by socioeconomic instability and circumstances. That evening, reading what they wrote and drew reminded me of the importance of the work we are doing and the integrity of bottom-up approaches. It prompted  a contemplation—while global trends dominate discussions, many frontline communities still endure precarious living conditions—an overwhelming reality to process, despite already knowing it prior.

Moving forward

In the remaining months of the GLF’s support of our Restoration Stewards program we will continue to build the site and hub. Drought has come and gone and we welcome the rainy season excited and hopeful for young trees and gardens to grow. From the things I am constantly discovering and collectively creating, I get to find new meaning in community.

The way forward now lies in returning the commons, in reviving the practices of community-driven initiatives—deepening the relationship with the forest and the land not through exploitation, but through stewardship and restoration. 

I am more present, listening to the whispers of the landscapes in our town, and learning from the wisdom of those who have always known its worth. Hopefully, what we will be planting builds a future where everyone can dream not just of three meals a day, but of a world where nourishment, both physical and spiritual, is readily available for all, especially for Alojipan.