LET OUR NATIVE FLOWERS BLOOM

Mambajao, Camiguin—Every year, just as the sakura (cherry blossoms) of Japan are beginning to bloom, our narra trees put on a dazzling display. Covered completely with yellow flowers, the trees’ bright color heralds the dry season while also giving off a soft, sweet fragrance.

The narra blossoms are just one part of our floral calendar. Here in Camiguin, the malabulak ( Bombax ceiba) are still in bloom, with crimson petals standing out amid the island’s verdant, volcanic rainforests, while in Palawan it is the light pink blossoms of the balayong ( Cassia javanica ssp. nodosa) that grace the season.

Joining the botanical show, an old kapok ( Ceiba pentandra) tree in Los Baños recently amazed netizens when a video by Jerard Eusebio captured the release of its fluffy, snowlike fibers. If I miss the salingbobog ( Crateva religiosa) blossoms in UP Diliman’s Sunken Garden, I hope come May or June I won’t miss the banaba ( Lagerstroemia speciosa) and the molave ( Vitex parviflora), whose violaceous blooms match the softer colors of the wet season.

The beauty of our flowers and trees notwithstanding, they largely go unnoticed, even as the Japanese hold festivals celebrating their cherished blossoms; even as Filipinos travel to Japan to live out their animé dreams. Notable exceptions like Puerto Princesa’s balayong festival notwithstanding, some have suggested that this disparity stems from our lack of national pride, but I think we can look beyond this facile explanation.

In the first place, the Japanese have always been exceptional in their appreciation of natural beauty, making it central to their sense of aesthetics, popular culture and even philosophy—with flowers serving as metaphors for the ephemeral nature of life itself. Indeed, only with a floral culture such as Japan’s can the haiku master Basho (16441694) pen these lines: “A lovely spring night Suddenly vanished while we viewed cherry blossoms” Consequently, the Japanese have placed great attention to their trees and parks. While we think of cherry blossoms as “natural,” the popular variety we know today — somei-yoshino— was actually developed through plant breeding only in the 19th century. On top of the intrinsic beauty of each flower, the spectacle comes from the fact that there are so many of them in each hanami (flower viewing) spot; but this is only because the trees have been cultivated for decades.

———— Imagine if Manila had a park like Tokyo’s Ueno, with native flowers abloom! Surely, films will begin and end under their falling petals, and the park itself will be the subject of many a love song.

But to realize this fantasy, we need inclusive cities with more public spaces; cities where greenery and quality of life are given value. We also need long-term planning: Trees take time to grow and require nurturing over many years, well beyond the term limits of any politician. Can we not envision a future where parks—not malls—are the hallmarks of progress?

Moreover, we need a deeper sense of appreciation for the environment. We need to save what little forest we have by declaring more natural parks and supporting those that already exist; we need to bring more of our forests to the cities by planting more trees and supporting horticultural research. Can we not revive the Arbor Day in schools, to give our young people a sense of ownership and belonging toward our natural heritage? The flowers themselves can help, too. Surely, the people’s love for the environment will be fostered by the realization that so much beauty lies within our land.

Finally, we need a sense of history: one that interrogates why we have come to love what we love (e.g. roses over sampaguita; oranges over dalandan). While we can keep appreciating the sakura—whether in Atok or in Tokyo—and while we should be critical of what gets to be considered culturally or botanically “indigenous,” uncovering our naturalized bias for the “foreign” can open up new ways of imagining the country—not (just) as an economy in need of “development” but as our ecological home, one where our calling is to let both plants and people grow.

Come to think of it, the virtues that we need to make our native flowers bloom are the same virtues we need to build our nation.

———— glasco@inquirer.com.ph