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Black Aeta, Hidden Kinship: A Sacred Encounter at Mt. Pinatubo | Philippines: Love and Peace
- Thizztv Publisher
- May 27
- 5 min read
Meeting the Aeta: A Journey Through Clark Air Base, Mt. Pinatubo, and the Spirit of the Philippines
It was supposed to be just another leg of our 28-day journey across the Philippines. We had come to Angeles City to revisit Clark Air Force Base—a place of deep personal history for Lily, my wife, and her sister Nolita.
Both had given birth to their first children there, decades ago, before destiny led them to America. This visit was meant to honor that past. But what unfolded on that day was beyond what I ever imagined.
We didn’t plan to meet the Aeta that morning. But fate has its own itinerary.
A Homecoming Within a Homecoming
Clark Air Base was once one of the largest American military installations outside of the United States. At its peak, it housed more than 15,000 American military personnel and their families.
It was more than a base—it was a small city, complete with hospitals, schools, and shops.
But after the catastrophic eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in 1991, everything changed. The base was shut down. Thousands were displaced. And among the most affected were the Aeta, the indigenous people who had lived in the region long before the first fighter jet touched down.
Lily had given birth to her son here in the 1980s, when Clark Air Base was still humming with American life. Nolita, too, became a mother within the same walls.
These memories were alive as we arrived with her sisters Tess and Lyete. The day was already emotionally charged—a chance to revisit the origin points of two life-altering journeys. But it became so much more.
An Unexpected Meeting
As we approached the foot of Mt. Pinatubo—a giant that had once rained fire and ash upon this land—we saw them: a small group of young Aeta children, their eyes wide and bright, their skin a deep mahogany hue like my own.
We hadn’t spoken yet, but I felt the connection immediately. Perhaps it was the shared history of Blackness in unexpected places. Or the way their presence seemed to whisper stories that had never been recorded but lived through breath and bone.
Lily approached them with a gentle smile. One young girl stepped forward, no older than eight, and offered us a small woven bracelet—an offering of welcome.
I crouched to her level, reached for my camera, and asked, "Okay?" She nodded shyly. The click of the shutter captured not just an image but a shared moment of recognition.
The History of the Aeta People
The Aeta are believed to be among the earliest inhabitants of the Philippines, descendants of the first wave of Austro-Melanesian peoples.
They are traditionally nomadic, living in the mountainous regions of Luzon, especially around Zambales and Tarlac.
For centuries, they lived in harmony with the land, cultivating rice, hunting with handmade bows, and living in small, tightly knit communities.
But the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo in 1991 changed everything. The Aeta lost their ancestral lands to the lava and ash. Many were forced into evacuation centers and urban slums.
They struggled against displacement, marginalization, and the erosion of their cultural traditions.
Despite this, the Aeta remain resilient. Today, many Aeta communities work to preserve their customs, language, and identity. Some have become cultural ambassadors, offering performances and handicrafts to visitors.
But others live in extreme poverty, often overlooked by government aid and mainstream Filipino society.
Clark Air Base: A Monument of Memory
We made our way through the grounds of Clark Air Base, now converted into an economic zone and bustling with new commercial developments.
Casinos, shopping malls, and even a small skyline of high-rises now dot the landscape where barracks and airstrips once stood.
The transformation is startling. The ghosts of military occupation coexist with the new pulse of tourism and commerce.
We visited the Clark Museum, which holds a powerful exhibition on the eruption of Mt. Pinatubo and the people it displaced—chief among them, the Aeta.
The museum also pays tribute to the base’s history, highlighting its role during World War II, the Vietnam War, and its importance as a symbol of American influence in Southeast Asia.
Walking through the museum, Lily stood quietly in front of an old photograph of Clark Air Base's maternity ward. Her fingers reached out and hovered above the glass.
"That’s where I held him for the first time," she whispered.
A City Reborn
Angeles City is no longer the base town it once was. It’s now a booming hub of tourism and international investment. The newly opened casinos draw crowds from Korea, China, and beyond.
Bars and resorts line the streets, while real estate developers pitch condominiums with views of Mt. Arayat.
But just beyond the bright lights lies another reality—the story of the Aeta, the people who once roamed this land freely.
Some now sell handmade crafts along the roadsides. Others perform traditional dances for tips. And many still live in makeshift homes on the mountain’s edge, trying to rebuild what the volcano took away.
A Moment Etched in Memory
As the sun dipped low behind Mt. Pinatubo, we returned to where we had first met the young Aeta children. I showed them the photo I had taken earlier.
The little girl smiled widely and tugged at my arm, pointing to a larger group of elders who had now joined us.
One man, face lined with age and wisdom, nodded in greeting. "Welcome," he said in halting English. "This land remembers."
We sat with them as they told stories of survival—of hiding in caves as the mountain roared, of the long walk down to safety, and of the American planes that once flew overhead.
Reflections on Identity
As a Black American man standing among the Aeta, I felt an overwhelming sense of belonging. Not as a tourist or even as a journalist, but as a human being connected by history, struggle, and resilience.
This was more than just another stop on our trip. This was a sacred encounter.
Our journey through the Philippines was about reconnecting with family. But it became just as much about discovering the hidden kinship that exists across
oceans and continents.
I captured the entire moment in 4K video, now featured in Philippines: Love and Peace.
This book, now available in hardcover, Paperback, eBook, and soon audiobook, tells the full story—a journey of homecoming, culture, and the unbreakable spirit of the Filipino people.
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