FATHER AND SON Edilbert and Ricardo, died in the 1946 ambush, allegedly committed by the governor's body guards. The double murder remains unsolved, Photos: June TiglaoTuazon.

Seventy seven years ago, one of the most horrifying killings in Pampanga’s crime history that resulted in the deaths of members of Bacolor’s most prominent families: 62 year old EDILBERTO JOVEN and his son RICARDO, age 24. Edilberto’s brother, FRANCISCO, 55, lived to tell the tale of this brutal murder, that has remained unsolved to this day, and that a cover-up was made to protect the masterminds.

The elder Joven, an Ateneo graduate, was a pharmaceutical chemist by profession. His father was Francisco Casas Joven, brother of Ceferino C. Joven, the first Civil Governor of Pampanga in 1901. In 1906, he married Margarita Palma, who died in 1919 and left him with 5 children. That same year, he was elected mayor of Bacolor, and was elected for a 2^nd term in 1922. By then, he had taken a second wife, Elena Samia, with whom her had 4 children; Ricardo or Carding, a law student,  was the eldest and only son from that union.

 After his mayoral stint, he worked for the Bureau of Internal Revenue as a drug inspector from 1924 to 1928. On the side, he joined groups like Recreativa Filantrofica,Ding Aficionados Bacolod and Ing Parnasung Capampangan for social and literary pursuits.

 In 1931, he re-joined politics by becoming the Provincial Board secretary, and 2 years later, during the term of Governor Pablo Angeles David, Joven was named Assistant Director of the Pampanga Carnival of 1933 by the governor himself. His return to the political arena and party loyalty shift could have caused his untimely death and that of his son Carding.

 Joven has had a brush with violence before. In 1915,  a seemingly-sick cousin, Angel Joven, armed with a pocket knife, assaulted him while crossing the street, inflicting serious bodily injuries.

 But that fateful event in 1946 was different, as it was deadlier, and many believed, to be politically motivated as it coincided with the national elections. Joven, by 1945, was the President of the newly-formed Pampanga Democratic Alliance,  a leftist party that counts the National Peasants Union of the Hukbalahap, the Committee of Labor Organizations of the local Communist Party and the Filipino Blue Eagle Guerrillas as members, threw their support behind incumbent Sergio Osmeña’s presidential bid.

 On the distaff side was Pablo Angeles David who cast his lot on Senate Pres. Manuel Roxas of the Liberal Party. David had the unfortunate experience of being kidnapped twice by the Hukbalahaps in 1944 and 1945, by HMB Commander Silvestre Liwanag or “Kumander Bie”, that caused him so much suffering. Though he came back alive, the Japanese Kempeitai, seized him, believing he was now working for the HMB. His arrest would profoundly affect his wife Concepcion’s health, who died on Christmas Eve, 1944. It is no wonder then that as acting post-war Pampanga governor,  he took a hard stance against the Hukbalahap/HMB, driving them to the mountains and the hinterlands though intense pacification operations.

 As the Police Report recounted that on 23 April 1946, about 9:15 p.m., shots were heard coming from the direction of barrio Tinajero. When officers responded to the scene, they saw a parked jeep behind the Bacolor Elementary School. Searching further, they found the bodies of Edilberto, his son Ricardo, and Francisco, sprawled on afield some 100 meters away from the jeep. Miraculously, Francisco was alive, but barely, and he was rushed to the hospital where he was able to give a statement to the authorities, led by a certain Sgt. Pineda and the Chief of Police.

 In his account, Francisco  said that “on their way home just a few paces from the gate of Bacolor Elementary School, 3 masked men and armed with Thompson asked them to turn back their jeep where they came from. They made them walk about 100 yards into the rice fields where they were shot.” There appeared to be no motive for the killing, as the police stated at that time—2 days after the shooting--and the assailants remained unidentified.

 In October, 6 months after the killing, a certain Sgt. Ricardo Ocampo, an investigator of the 11^th Military Police Co., stationed in Lubao surfaced, with a signed affidavit attesting to his knowledge of the crime and the perpetrators behind it. He identified the killers as bodyguards of the present governor, Pablo Angeles David. In his explosive revelation, he said that a day after the murder, he met with Eliong and asked him about the murder case.

 Eliong alleged to have boasted that together with Nanding, and their companion bodyguards, carried out the plan, and that he shot the father-and-son Jovens with the submachine gun that caused their instant deaths. He shot the wounded Francisco again after noticing he was feigning his death. He said he wanted to shoot all of them on their heads, but Nanding was rushing to leave the scene, so Eliong was not able to do so.

 A few days after, Ocampo said he met with Nanding in San Fernando, who was en route to Manila. Ocampo confronted him about the Joven killings, pretending to praise him for his actions. At this, Nanding told him he already knew who Ocampo’s source was—the looselipped Eliong. Nanding admitted the killing, then afterwards, exacted from Ocampo the promise to keep secret their conversations.

At the military headquarters, Ocampo saw Nanding again who approached him and advised him to tell the Gov. David the source of his version of the story so that the governor himself would know what to do with Eliong.

 After talking to the other bodyguards, Ocampo came to discover and conclude that Eliong and Nanding wanted to take credit for the Joven killings, that was allegedly ordered by the governor himself. Thus, by eliminating the opposition, victory would be assured for Roxas and Liberal party candidates in Bacolor.

Sgt. Ocampo also managed to trick Lt. Ildefonso Paredes, Detachment Commander of the 111^th Military Police Co., into admitting his role in the plot, by bragging about being far better than the commander, having solved the case by himself.

 To this, Lt. Paredes allegedlyretorted: “You don’t think that I know what happened? Do you believe my boys? I told you you could rely on them.” As a proof of his connivance, Lt. Paredes said that he did not go directly to the scene of the crime when summoned, but drove around different barrios to give the bodyguards more time to escape.

 Ocampo ended his narrative with a recommendation to confiscate the Thompson guns of the Gov. David, fire them, have the shells examined by ballistic experts, and then compare them with the bullet shells found at the murder scene. He is certain that the tests will prove that one of the governor’s Thompsons was used in the commission of the crime.

 Despite these damning revelations pointing to the direct involvement of the governor, his bodyguards, and the collusion of the police, Sgt. Ocampo’s affidavit seemed to have been conveniently ignored. The investigation did not prosper, no arrests were ever made, and the double murder of the Jovens of Bacolor remains a cold case to this day, leaving a Joven descendant to observe: “When people in power are involved, expect a cover up. Politics then, as now, has not changed.”

 (MANY THANKS to June Joven Tiglao and Nona Joven Lim, for the photos, materials and additional information).

Ninu't Ninu Qng Kapampangan, 1936

I  SAY BOBOTU, YOU SAY TAMALES...

My earliest encounter with local kapangan was not with the readily available puto (both lason and kutsinta), the common kalame and suman, but with bobotu—the banana leaf-wrapped treat with a rather unusual taste and an even stranger name.

It was always made at home during the yearly fiestas of my town, prepared by Ati Bo, my dad’s former nanny who came to live with us and her family for the rest of her life.

Exposed early to the making of the bobotu, I acquired a taste for its delicate“malinamnam” mix of spicy-salty-peanutty flavors, so different from other kapangans that were mostly sweet.

A week before the fiesta, Ati Bo would recruit extra help from Arayat, her original hometown. The women would efficiently turn the back of our home into a dirty kitchen, cleaning and bringing out implements like the kawa (vat),  the stone gilingan in which to ground malagkit rice to a paste (galapong), and the coconut kudkuran.

My favorite part of the process takes place on the long bangku (benches) where the bobotu was “assembled” efficiently . One lays a line of cut, fire-softened banana leaves on the bench, while another plops a dollop of the cooked bobotu mix on the wrapper with a sandok.

 She is followed by another worker who tops the mix with the right amount of rich, orange spiced sauce—made pretty much like the one used for pancit palabok. The next helper deftly arranges slivers of chicken (or sometimes ham), slices of hard-boiled eggs, and crushed peanuts on top of the sauce. The final step is steaming the leaf wrapped bobotu, but I prefer eating it some hours after, when the consistency is firmer to my liking.

Documenting bobotu makers with Bryan Koh, culinary writer

The sheer number of ingredients explains the bobotu’s distinctive taste, making it more than just a kapangan to me. It can very well be an ulam (viand) or a meal in itself. But what about the name—Bobotu? When did people start calling it “tamales”?

For as long as I can remember in the early 1960s, we only called it “bobotu”—and by no other name. I started hearing the term “tamales”  more frequently to our bobotu, from mostly Manila friends and outsiders. Maybe “tamales” sounds more “sosy” (classy) than bobotu, for those with more refined tastes. Even ambulant vendors have been hollering "Puto!! Tamales!" when they make the rounds of the nieghborhood. During a 2012 food research trip with Singaporean culinary writer Bryan Koh in San Fernando, Pampanga, kapangan makers there differentiated the tamales from a bobotu.Tamales, they say, is a more special version because it has more toppings!

I have also heard stories about it being a Mexican import, introduced here during the time of the galleon trade. Sure, our amigos introduced us to the avocado, the camachile, and the guava, but I still have yet to see references about “tamales” in the Philippines in written works or old documents.  I have always thought that given the use of basic ingredients, and the fact that the Asiatic region has an ancient established culture of leaf-wrapped cooking, the “bobotu” of Pampanga must be known even before the Conquest.

I can only offer a few conjectures. Could it be that the Spaniards saw the banana-wrapped bobotu and noted some similarities with the corn husk-wrapped “tamales” of Mexico, their Nueva España of central America—and began calling them as tamales (of the East) , too?

Or just maybe, it was the Mexicans themselves who saw our “bobotu”, which triggered memories of their homemade “tamales”.  Could there have been a case of reverse adaptation where the Mexicans made tamales here, substituting local ingredients, like our rice, for their corn? Did the Mexicans turn the bobotu into tamales? Or did the Filipinos turned the tamales into a new bobotu as a way of resisting what was alien to their palate?

Just a few years back, an origin story alleging how the delicacy came to be called “bobotu” circulated in the local culinary circle. In pre-women’s suffrage days (i.e. before 1937), it was said that women huddled together and voted to cook “bobotu”, while their menfolk were out casting their ballots in the town elections. The dish they cooked was reportedly, “bobotong asan”.

I heard this story few months after the folk song, “Eleksyon Ding Asan”, collected by Dr. Lino L. Dizon in San Fernando, saw print in a popular Singsing magazine.  I am inclined to believe that the overly-imaginative storyteller learned of this song, borrowed the plot about fishes involved in the electoral process, to cook this yarn of a tale.

“Bobotu” sounds Malayo-Polynesian to me, so I proceeded to locate the word and its variations in Bahasa, Javanese, Malay dictionaries and on-line translators. This led me the Javanese word “botok /bothok”,  defined as “a traditional dish made from grated coconut flesh, which has been squeezed of its coconut milk, often mixed with other ingredients such as vegetables or fish, and wrapped in bananaleaf and steamed.” The key words: “coconut flesh”, “coconut milk”, “banana leaf”, “steamed”, leaped out from the page, as they are associated with preparing “bobotu”.

It goes on to describe its consistency ( “It has a soft texture like the mozzarella cheese and is usually colored white.”), cooking and serving suggestions (“To add flavor and nutrients… use additional ingredients as...tofu,..catfish,..salted fish..egg… salted egg…shrimp..minced beef”).  Like in Pampanga where we have “bobotung asan”, Indonesia, too, has “bobotok lele” , steamed banana-wrapped catfish laced with spices, tomatoes, and peppers.

Botok was so popular among the Indonesians that it has become a generic term for any dish made by wrapping various ingredients in banana leaves, then steaming them.

Now the clincher:  The plural form of “botok” is botok-botok, which, when contracted becomes another alternative name with a familiar ring-- “BOBOTOK”! Have we found bobotu’s nearest of kin?

Of course, there are telling differences too. “Bobotok” doesn’t make use of rice dough—it is in fact, served as a viand, to be eaten with rice. On the other hand, the Mexican tamale uses a masa of corn flour, while Pampanga’s uses rice flour. Tamales are filled with a mix of meats, beans and cheese, wrapped in corn husks, while bobotu is topped with achuete-based sauce, meat, eggs and nuts, wrapped in banana leaf. And, as mentioned earlier, they taste a world apart.

It is interesting to note that in South Africa, another dish inspired by “bobotok” is served in many homes where it is called “bobotie”.  According to Jakarka Post writer Theodora Hurustiati, bobotie was “first introduced by Javanese slaves, brought to South Africa through Cape Town by the Dutch East India Company in the 1600s”. Apparently, a large number of workers from Southeast Asia were recruited who practiced their cooking traditions as one Malay-speaking community. Indeed, good food, like good news, travels.

I’ve always known bobotu as bobotu, so I will always call it bobotu, not tamales--never mind if the English bard maintains that “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. Tamale never tasted anything likebobotu, anyway.  Bobotu originated in this part of the world, with a name that is clearly Malayo-Polynesian, not Mesoamerican. The Spanish/Mexicans may have contributed the word tamales—their sole influence-- but not the origin of a kapangan we know ever since as bobotu. We could say merely that they built on the Philippines’ leaf-wrapped cooking tradition that is aligned with the well-entrenched Asian gastronomic culture.

 SOURCES:

Bobotie's Melting Pot, https://www.thejakartapost.com/news/2013/11/10/bobotie-s-melting-pot.html

 Tamale Digest. https://tamaledigest.blogspot.com/2014/05/filipino-tamales.html

 Vegegable Dish: Botok. https://www.tasteatlas.com/botok

 Anchovy Botok Recipe, Nutritious Home Cooking Menu, https://endeus.tv/resep/botok-teri-menu-masakan-rumahan-yang-bergizi

Picked Me Pink: ATSARA, pickled vegetables, presented artfully.

The Philippines share many food preserving traditions with its Asian neighbors, the most popular being pickling fruits and vegetables. Our term for such preserved condiment is “atsara / achara”, from the Indian “achaar”, a generic term for anything pickled. India’s stamp on our regional cuisine is evident as well in Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore and Brunei, where the condiment is called “acar” or “atjar”.

Just about any fruit or vegetable can be pickled, depending on the country’s produce. Indian prefer green mangoes, lemons, carrot, chickpeas. Pickling, like its allied processes like fermenting, preserving by sugar, and drying is a way of extending the shelf life of food, and ensures availability of out-of-season fruits, vegetables and other produce.

ACHARA Atbp, from "Filipino Heritage:The Making of a Nation"

Papaya is the most common choice in Southeast Asian countries, including the Philippines. The pickling medium also varies—Japanese and Korean kitchens use salt, rice bran, miso (fermented bean paste), and mustard, while Indian cooks use mustard or sesame oil.  

Our local achara, made from green papaya laced with carrots, pepper, onion and optional raisins, is sweet and tangy. Its table uses also vary—as a side dish, dipping sauce, flavor breaker from the sameness of food, or relish to accompany longganisas and fish. I know at least one person who eats atsara as salad!

MARMALADAS y CONSERVAS:  Orange, Pineapple, Kundol, Papaya

But it is in the manner of presentation that the Philippine achara is truly distinctive.While the pickling process is relatively simple--- upon boiling the fruit ‘n  vegetable mix, the pickling syrup takes over—and in a week’s time or longer, the atsara is ready to eat. It is the preliminary preparation of ingredients, however, where the creativity of local cooks found full expression. Grating the papaya is easy enough, but artistic cutting of the other achara ingredients requires a higher level of skill and attention.

Before placing in bottles for pickling, the vegetable and fruit pieces were delicately cut and carved with intricate designs—carrots were fancifully shaped into flowers, cucumbers became foliage or rosettes, and melons scooped into balls.

FRUITY FRETWORK, Sunday Time Magazine, 1966

This vegetable and fruit carving tradition harkens back to the ancient ages in Japan, where it began and known as“mukimono”,  then spread to the Malay region where the practice was adapted in local kitchens. The art thrived in some countries like Cambodia and Thailand especially, but not in the Philippines where, even before World War II, papaya carving was already a dying art.

Food technologist (and later, war heroine)  Maria Orosa, of The Bureau of Plant Industry, sought to revive the art by gathering trainees to learn the skill. Most of the talents came from Bulacan. One, Mrs.Luisa A. Arguelles of Meycauayan was a master carver of not just papayas, but kundol, candied orange and camote. She carved silhouettes of people’s profiles, various font styles, and figurals from peels and flat fruit pieces. Another, Mrs. Presentacion de Leon used locally-invented carving tools to make elaborate fruit and vegetable pieces that were shaped like balls, curls and petals.

ROSES AND THORNS, Vegetable Carving, STM 1966

Once the boiled in the pickling solution, the mixed fruit-vegetable achara is placed in wide-mouthed jars and the carved vegetable pieces are arranged and coaxed into positions to form  pleasant scenes and words (e.g. “recuerdo”, “ala-ala”, “amistad”). The bottles or jars are then sealed and let to stand on display on the aparador platera for all to see. The merits of these bottled achara lie not only in the decorative folk artistry but also in the rich flavor of its varied contents.

Aside from the papaya-based achara,  green mangos, kamias, radishes, and santols were also pickled in brine water. Filipino homemakers—from big cities to rural barrios—learned the art of pickling and preserving early—informally or home economics classes. Proof of their kitchen wizardry was when a group of Filipinos, mostly from Pampanga, won merit awards at culinary contest held at the 1904 St. Louis World’s Fair.

FRUIT AND VEGETABLE CARVING TOOLS, Sunday Times Magazine, 1966

Among those recognized was Atanacio Rivera de Morales (buri palm preserves ); Isabel Mercado (preserved limoncito); Irene Canlas (preserved melon); Maria Guadalupe Castro (santol jelly); Rafaela Ramos Angeles (santol preserves) and Justa de Castro (kamias fruit preserve).

Imported pickled cucumbers in bottles were available in the Philippines in the 1930s under the Del Monte (Achara de Pepinillos) and Achara Libby’s brand. Local attempts to commercialize production of similar products began when American Mrs. Gertrude Stewart arrived in the Philippines in 1928. Living here, she was disappointed to find recipes in magazines calling for ingredients not found in the country so she created new recipes integrating local produce.

From vegetables and fruits--to blooms, petals,  and flowers!!

In 1959, Mrs. Stewart was contracted by Estraco Inc, a distributing company, to supply pickles, fruit preserves and marmalade products for their new food division. Thus Mrs. Gertrude Stewart Homestyle Foods was born. Her greatest contribution to the food industry is the utilization of native Philippine fruits like the duhat, bignay and sayote that she used to create mock maraschino cherries.

CUT ABOVE THE REST. An expert fruit and vegetable carver

Today, the bottled achara has become a familiar offering in pasalubong stores, food stalls and even big groceries and supermarkets, supplied by small to medium sized home industries. Packaged in bottles labeled with catchy brand names, the commercial atsara may still hold the same taste appeal, but for sheer visual attraction, nothing can match the presentation of atsaras of yesteryears.

Though some might dismiss this pleasing bottled arrangement as purely culinary, the art of fruit and vegetable carving/cutting is part of our cultural heritage, a charming form of folk art where food becomes the art itself.

SOURCES:

All About Achaar, the Indian Pickle: Recipe and Tips, Written by MasterClass

The Folk Art Issue, The Sunday Times Magazine, May 1963

The Food Issue, The Sunday Times Magazine, 1966

“Let’s Preserve our Preserves”, The Sunday Time Magazine, 12 March 1961 issue, p. 32

“Conservas”, The Tribune, 25 Nov. 1933, Rotogravure Section, p. 3.

Homefront section, The Tribune, 10 Dec. 1943, p. 27