Celebrating Antipolo’s Tradition of Sustainable Packaging for Circular Economy
By Noelle Anne Santos Cubacub
In a small, quiet town on the slopes of Antipolo, came Bulilit, a humble leaf from the proud buli tree in Laguna.
Every morning, Bulilit would stretch its long green arms wide, soaking in the sunlight and
absorbing the rain, proud to be part of nature’s cycle.
Bulilit dreamt of joining a process where every part of nature’s gifts was used thoughtfully and then returned to nourish new beginnings.
While the other leaves on the tree were content to eventually fall and wither, Bulilit dreamed of a different fate. It longed to be part of a process where it could contribute to something meaningful and lasting, rather than simply fading away.
One afternoon, Bulilit was chosen, gently plucked from the tree and placed in a basket alongside other buli leaves to travel all the way down to Antipolo City. Excited, Buli whispered to her friends, "I think today’s the day I become part of something special!"
As the hands of the women carefully prepared the other leaves, Bulilit felt her arms stretch, stretch, swirl, swirl, getting ready to embrace and play its role in a process that cherished nature’s resources and ensured nothing went to waste.
The next stop was a small kitchen, where Bulilit met Malagkit, the sticky rice, who was bubbling with excitement. “I’m about to be turned into a delicious snack!” Malagkit said proudly.
The sweet smell of coconut cream, who called herself Gata, filled the air as she danced in the pot, thick and rich. “Together, we make something that brings people joy,” Gata sang.
Asin, though a bit grumpy, added, “I may be small, but I make everything taste just right with that hint of saltiness.”
As Bulilit watched, the women of the town, their hands skillful and quick, mixed Malagkit, Gata, and Salt together. They scooped just the right amount of the rice mixture and placed them carefully into Bulilit's arms.
“Hold tight,” Malagkit said, “we're about to become something wonderful!”
Bulilit hugged the warm rice snugly, then was tied with a thin strip of itself to make sure nothing would spill. Now wrapped tightly, they were placed into a large pot to be boiled for hours and hours, like a cozy sauna. As the steam rose and the aroma filled the air, Bulilit knew it was no longer just a leaf — it was part of a delicious snack that everyone in Antipolo loved.
Then, into the kitchen waltzed Luyang Dilaw, the bright and cheerful turmeric, with a warm yellow glow. “I’m here to add a touch of sunshine!” Luyang Dilaw exclaimed. Bulilit tilted its head in curiosity. “Do you taste like you look?” she asked. Luyang Dilaw chuckled, a hearty laugh. “Oh, no! I’m just here for the color. People love their snacks to look golden and bright.”
Together with the other wrapped suman, Bulilit was carried to the market, where the air buzzed with laughter, voices, and the sound of coins clinking. The suman, neatly stacked, were bought by families and travelers, filling their bellies with warm rice and their hearts with joy.
And the best part? Once the suman was eaten, Bulilit returned to the earth. No plastic, no waste, just a natural cycle of life. The women of Antipolo made a living from this, using the land’s gifts wisely. Each suman sold helped them feed their families, send their children to school, and keep their community strong. As the day ended, Bulilit felt proud. She was not just a leaf anymore — she was part of a tradition, a livelihood, and a story that would hopefully live on for generations.
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