16 November 2024
by Noelle Anne Santos Cubacub
The traditional suman packaging of Antipolo City, Philippines, showcases how natural material packaging embody circular economy principles. From the palm leaves used to wrap the rice cakes to the community of makers and vendors who rely on this craft for their livelihood, these age-old practices offer valuable lessons for modern packaging innovations.
As a child, my family’s occasional trips to Antipolo City in the Philippines were always marked by two distinct memories: the towering Antipolo Cathedral and the irresistible aroma of freshly made suman (Filipino steamed rice cakes). Long before the Antipolo Cathedral was recognized as an International Shrine and before the rise of Pasalubong (souvenir) centers, the streets were lined with vendors selling suman from makeshift stalls. Their voices filled the air, each one claiming theirs was the freshest, offering free tastes and extra pieces to entice buyers. The simple joy of watching these vendors prepare their offerings remains a vivid part of my childhood.
Who could resist? The promise of that sweet, sticky rice treat, to be savored on the journey home or shared with family, was always too tempting to pass up. However, back then, I honestly found the suman‘s leaf packaging somewhat bothersome – sticky to handle and a challenge to dispose of properly.
But now, as an adult committed to reducing waste and nurturing a healthier planet, I have come to appreciate the profound wisdom embedded in this traditional packaging method. What once seemed inconvenient now represents a perfect example of a circular economy – a concept our ancestors intuitively understood long before it became a buzzword in sustainability circles.
I always thought all rice cakes, like those suman in Antipolo City, were wrapped in the same leaves, assuming they were just banana leaves. It was not until later that I realized how distinct each wrapping is, reflecting different traditions and local resources—from banana leaves to coconut or palm leaves—each adding its own touch to the experience.
At its core, suman is a simple delicacy – glutinous rice and coconut milk, wrapped in leaves and steamed to perfection. But it is in this simplicity that we find a masterclass in sustainable food production and packaging. Suman can be eaten anytime of the day—from breakfast to snacks—and pairs wonderfully with hot drinks like rich hot chocolate or, of course, a steaming cup of coffee. This beloved delicacy is especially popular during the Ahunan Sa Antipolo, where people often make the journey up the elevated area of Antipolo. Here, suman is a staple snack, embodying the warmth and hospitality of this tradition-rich destination.
The true artistry of suman-making lies not in the cooking process, but in the preparation of its unique container. Skilled hands take buli or palm leaves and, with practiced precision, swirl them around a mold to create individual containers. These need to be locked properly to maintain their form – a technique passed down through generations. The rice mixture is then scooped into each leafy pocket before being boiled to doneness.
I recall one Saturday morning, being warmly greeted by Ate Ash, one of the Pasalubong vendors beside the Antipolo Cathedral. She was so patient with my many questions about the suman industry in Antipolo and graciously walked me through the suman-making process. According to her, there are only a few suman makers in Antipolo, and most vendors simply “hango” or resell them. She also revealed that the bright yellow hue of the suman comes from luyang dilaw (turmeric), which is added to the boiling suman. Surprisingly, despite the turmeric, the suman does not taste gingery at all. Ate Ash shared that there’s a broiler capable of cooking 700 suman at once, with each batch taking seven hours to finish. While the ingredients—malagkit, gata, and salt—are simple, the right technique is essential for making suman that is both delicious and long-lasting.
This process, deeply rooted in Filipino culture, showcases the resourcefulness that has long been a hallmark of our people. The abundance of palm trees did not just provide raw materials; it sparked innovation. From the same leaves that wrap our suman, local artisans create woven designs, accessories, embroideries, and hats. In the world of buli, nothing goes to waste.
The use of buli or palm leaves as packaging is a prime example of circular economy principles in action. These leaves, renewable and biodegradable, return to the earth after use, leaving no trace of waste. This contrasts sharply with modern single-use plastic packaging, which lingers in the environment for centuries, highlighting the brilliance of our ancestors’ approach.
The circularity of suman-making extends beyond just the packaging. The entire process functions as a closed-loop system:
During my chat with Ate Ash, I discovered a few fascinating details about the packaging. At first, I assumed that the buli used in Antipolo City was locally sourced, but she clarified that it is actually harvested from Laguna, a nearby province south of Antipolo also known for its rich natural resources. It is intriguing to see how this traditional craft connects different regions and brings them together in the suman-making process.
This raises some interesting questions for further research. It is curious why suman-makers in Antipolo source their buli from Laguna. Could it be that the local supply in Antipolo has been exhausted, or are there other reasons for this cross-province trade? Understanding this could offer deeper insights into the dynamics of traditional crafts and local resource availability.
Ate Ash also mentioned that with the right cooking techniques, the buli can help keep the suman fresh for up to two weeks. However, since the buli can wither quickly, it is important to use it right away when making suman. This highlights an interesting opportunity for sustainable packaging innovations. The fact that buli is both biodegradable and effective in preserving food presents a model for developing eco-friendly packaging solutions. Exploring and expanding on the use of buli could inspire new approaches to sustainable packaging in various industries.
While it is easy to focus on the environmental benefits, we must not overlook the human element that keeps this circular economy moving. The suman vendors I remember from my childhood are more than just part of a sustainable system – they are its life blood.
These vendors, along with the farmers who grow the rice, the coconut producers, the leaf harvesters, and the suman makers themselves, form a vital economic ecosystem. Their work not only provides them with a livelihood but also preserves cultural heritage and traditional knowledge. Interestingly, not all suman makers produce their own buli. Instead, many buy it from others for 35 Pesos per 100 pieces, according to Ate Ash. This practice, known as Kakampilin highlights how interconnected and resourceful the local suman-making community is.
During my encounter with Ate Ash, who has been selling suman and other Pasalubong products of Antipolo since 2000 (the same year I was born), I was struck by her inspiring journey. What started as a small venture has grown into her own dedicated spot for selling. However, she shared some challenges: while she used to sell 1,000 to 2,000 suman a day, she now sells only around 500. Despite the increased foot traffic due to Antipolo Cathedral’s recognition as an international shrine, she noted that many of her regular customers are no longer around, and the tradition of visiting Antipolo might not be as strong among younger generations. This shift, while benefiting from the shrine’s global recognition, also underscores how local small-scale businesses can be affected by broader developments and changing cultural practices.
As we face growing environmental challenges, the humble suman of Antipolo offers us valuable lessons. It reminds us that sustainability is not always about high-tech solutions or drastic lifestyle changes. Sometimes, it is about looking back to move forward, about recognizing the wisdom in traditional practices and finding ways to apply that wisdom in our modern context.
The next time you find yourself in Antipolo, perhaps visiting the cathedral or simply enjoying the cool mountain air, take a moment to appreciate the suman vendors. Buy a package (or two!), and as you unwrap your treat, remember that you are not just enjoying a delicious snack – you are participating in a perfect circle of sustainability, one that nourishes both people and the planet.
In the end, the story of Antipolo’s suman is more than just a tale of delicious food or environmental sustainability. It is about the people like Ate Ash, whose livelihoods are intertwined with this tradition, and the small acts of preservation that connect us to our cultural roots. The path to a more sustainable future might just be wrapped in a palm leaf, waiting for us to unwrap its secrets, one suman at a time.
Circular Cities Asia (CCA) is a social enterprise with a mission to build a community that accelerates circular economy innovation across Asia.
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