P80,000 haircut ritual marks boys’ passage to manhood
KIANGAN, Ifugao—Teachers of 9-year-old Eroz TomLaz Cortez and his 7-year-old brother, D’Artagnan, asked their parents if this was finally the year they would get their haircut.
The boys had been attending school with long hair, unlike their classmates, but were exempted by school officials from rules on hair length due to their bloodline.
As heirs to a kadangyan clan (the equivalent of royalty in Ifugao), they would only see their hair cut on the day they undergo a rite of passage to manhood called “kolot.” Last Sunday (June 10) was that day.
A mumbaki (ritual priest) cut the boys’ hair before they were handed off to two professional hairdressers for a proper haircut.
The haircut was the culmination of the two-day kolot, a ritual which cost the boys’ father, Anthony Cortez, a Department of the Interior and Local Government employee, P80,000.
Expensive haircut
In fact, few families practice kolot because of its high cost.
Anthony earns P32,000 a month as DILG operations officer in the capital town Lagawe, while his 35-year-old wife, Flordeliza, earns up to P10,000 monthly as a fruit and vegetable vendor.
But to complete the kolot, they had to spend P35,000 to buy a carabao, P36,000 for three native pigs, P750 for three chickens, P1,500 for bayah (rice wine), P1,400 for 24 bottles of gin, another P1,000 for a commercial brandy, P2,500 to buy two cavans of rice, P700 for vegetables and P1,150 for assorted items like condiments, paper plates and drinking water.
The hairdressers, however, were only paid P50 each, although they shared in the feast that the Cortez family offered to their neighbors and relatives in Barangay Poblacion here as part of the haircutting ritual.
In 2008, the boys’ second cousin, Decci Codamon, also underwent the ritual, which cost the Codamon family P75,000.
Rite of passage
In 2011, three Kiangan families spent money on the ritual. In June this year, four families, including the Cortez family, took the plunge to introduce their respective sons to manhood.
The boys waited a long time to get their hair cut, said Flordeliza. She said her sons would often ask her, “Tipe ta andukeg bu-uk ku yaden ittay ke dida (Why do we keep our hair long when other boys have short hair)?”
Anthony said the ritual was scheduled for December 2011, but his father (the boys’ grandfather) passed away, and the carabao that could have been offered for the haircutting ritual was slaughtered instead to feed people who came to his wake.
Ritual’s relevance
This year, to augment the expenses for kolot, Anthony said he had to borrow money from a Lagawe cooperative. And to make it a practical undertaking, he said the kolot was also held to coincide with the couple’s June 11 wedding anniversary, the college graduation of their eldest son, Michael Rajiv, and their clan reunion.
Despite its costs and the smaller number of people practicing it, kolot remains a relevant ritual, said Isabelita Codamon, Decci’s mother.
“The ritual strengthens our clan ties because our generation of Ifugaos realize that a united front will help us cope with and survive the changing environment, which affects our farms and our livelihood,” she said.
“This unity is expressed when we share the meat of our sacrificial animals. This is also the time distant family members get to know each other,” she added.
