Island of faith and mystique
Text and photos by Lawrence
D. Casiraya, BusinessWorld Online Reporter
Anyone wishing to travel to Siquijor is supposed to be forewarned.
A number of people I know who have been to the island gave me
my share of warnings: about not to be obtrusive and look at locals
straight in the eye, refrain from staying out too late at night,
and to watch what I eat.
That last piece of advice certainly did not mean I am putting
on weight nor do I have any allergic reaction to particular food.
In fact, ask most anyone from the Philippines or pick any travel
guidebook about the country and they all point out the same thing
-- that Siquijor has an aura of mystery to it and it is believed
that witches, good or bad, thrive among the Siquijodnons.
To top it all, I was scheduled to visit the island during the
Catholic church's Holy Week observance, when supernatural phenomenon
is believed to be at its height. During this time, local mananambals
or healers from various provinces in the southern part of
the country converge in Siquijor to do their annual ritual of
"refueling".
The healers are said to converge in the mountains of San Antonio,
acknowledged as the center of mananambals in the island,
to concoct potions amongst themselves. The healers gather the
necessary ingredients all week long before mixing it all up in
a large kawa or cauldron on the eve of Good Friday under
a Balete tree. After a whole night of incantations, they distribute
the finished brew among themselves -- a whole year's supply of
precious potion to be used in curing all sorts of diseases and
driving away all kinds of evil spirits as well.
Though I was told that these types of affairs in the island have
been documented on television before, I am thankful on hindsight
not to have seen any of it prior to my visit (nor do I remember
having watched anything about Siquijor for that matter. This made
me all the more ecstatic about seeing the island for myself in
the hope of getting a first-hand look at these said rituals).
JUAN GALANG
Much as I wanted to witness what actually happens during the evening
of Good Friday, a trek to the mountains was a far-fetched possibility.
It was a foolish thing to do, at least according to the owners
of the resort where I stayed. After narrating to them all the
stories I mentioned (which, I admit, is written in my guidebook),
they told me not to worry since the healers continue to mix potions
until Black Saturday.
Apparently, it is not a single congregation of healers that conducts
the ritual. Rather the acknowledged healers in San Antonio do
it separately. Whether out of privacy or reluctance to share expertise
with other healers, I never got a chance to find out. According
to the locals I talked to, there are three well-known mananambals
in town who do it on a regular basis without fail.
The eldest of them is Juan Ponce (or Juan Gulang as he is called
by locals), who is more than 80 years old and lives in a simple
hut in the woods. I joined a group who trekked to San Antonio
early morning of Black Saturday to pay the man a visit.
It took a couple of minutes before the "real" Juan Ponce (there
were other elder people who were milling about so I was sort of
guessing which one he was) emerged to meet us in his front yard.
The man did not utter a single word, but he beamed at us a somewhat
forced smile. With the help of a few men, a small kawa
was set to fire. I noticed a number of used sardine cans laid
down on the ground. I found out later they are used as containers
for the finished potion.
The man proceeded to put several pieces of kawot (the
local term for beehive), letting them melt and sizzle a bit before
putting in herbs, candle drippings (gathered from altars in different
churches around the island the previous day) and ashes he scooped
from different containers. He then added in lana (coconut
oil) from various bottles. A few minutes after, the brew emitted
a sweet, pleasant smell somewhat similar to pancake syrup, reminding
me of breakfast back home. Afterwards, the potion was distributed
in the sardine cans.
In the middle of it all, somebody handed the man a PhP100 bill
-- which I honestly thought would be dropped into the mixture.
Our guide told us it was "donation" from somebody in the crowd
and, to my amazement, I saw smaller bills laid out on the ground.
Asking around, I found out that a bottle of the oil-based mixture
can be bought for about PhP500 apiece. I observed that the foreigners
in our group were the most eager among us to get hold of the mixture.
Not bad for a Black Saturday morning for Juan Gulang should his
potion sell, well, like pancakes.
PALENA
Hours later, wandering in the capital town of Siquijor, I met
two locals -- Clive and Beth -- who I got to chat with about the
existence of witches or mangkukulam in the island. If
the mananambal represents the "good" side, the mangkukulam is
the complete anti-thesis.
Aling Beth was kind enough to give me a bit of her precious "palena"
gathered from a "healing session" she went to that afternoon in
Cantabon, a small barangay located in the outskirts of San Antonio.
Palena is a bit powdery in texture, a dried by-product derived
from the mixture similar to that concocted by Juan Ponce. It has
the same sweet smell of lana, especially because it had bits of
the kawot in it.
If the oil is for curing skin diseases, the primary use of palena
is to drive evil spirits away. Aling Beth advised that I wrap
some of it in red paper and clip it onto the clothes that I wear
as pangkontra (protection) wherever I go.
Red, according to her, is the color of sumpa or evil
spells cast by mangkukulams. Similar to incense, palena
can also be burned and the smoke emitted is supposed to drive
evil spirits away from the house.
ALL IN THE MIND?
For
a lot of Siquijodnons, whether mangkukulams really exist
or not, their motto is that it is better to be safe than sorry.
"It's more of a psychological thing, kahit di ka pa nakakakita
or nakakaramdam gusto mo ng pangkontra ( even if you haven't
actually seen or experienced it, you want protection," said Mang
Clive.
Though he himself hasn't had a first-hand experience on kulam,
Mang Clive left me with the impression that he does believe in
it, judging from the tales he said he has heard throughout the
years. He talked of a particular family living in the woods in
a nearby-town which he referred to as "maiitim ang dila" (black-tounged).
According to him, each member of the family has the power to put
curses on to any person. I must admit that after hearing this,
I never parted with my precious palena until i got out of the
island the next day.
Getting mangkukulams to put spells on people come at a price though,
as a I later learned from another Siquijodnon named Mike whome
my friends and I met in a diner. Spells apparently come at different
price ranges. A simple spell like inflicting an incurable disease
on a particular person can cost at least PhP10,000, he said. Joking
about it, we both agreed that for that amount one could possibly
hire someone to hurt a person physically.
Love potions, however, come at a more "affordable" price. For
PhP500, he said, one can get a small bottle potent enough to attract
the person of your dreams. One needs to rub some of it in the
wrist like perfume or dab a bit of it yourself on the person you
desire. This item, though, is still a bit pricey for someone like
me traveling on a budget.
What I afforded to buy are colorful bracelets that contain coconut
oil mixed with bits of herbs. The bracelets, which a lot of travelers
in the island are wearing, are supposed to act as repellant against
evil spirits. Aling Beth told me that the bracelet will get detached
once the person wearing it gets anywhere near a mangkukulam, a
sort of an early warning device. I bought about a dozen bracelets
as pasalubong for friends back in Manila, although I
seriously doubt they'll serve their intended purpose. But they
sure look cute on girls as trinkets.
TALES OF MARIA
Despite the island's mystical appeal, much of Siquijor is still
grounded on religious belief. Every town has a church -- each
having its own physical identity and moreso, a story to tell.
San Isidro Labrador Convent, said to be biggest and oldest convent
in the country built in 1891, can be found in the town of Lazi.
For a PhP30 entrance fee, one can go up the wide stairs and have
a tour of its premises, including the museum which houses religious
artifacts dating back to the nineteenth century. However, it was
a bit of a scare walking around the second floor especially when
one can hear creaking sounds while stepping on the wooden floor.
St. Francis of Assisi church in the capital town of Siquijor is
another one worth seeing. The church is made of coral stone and
has a separate bell tower where one can go up and get a full view
of the whole town. After mass was held on Good Friday afternoon,
a procession followed in the evening where various images of the
Virgin Mary and other religious statues were paraded around town.
In the town of Maria, I caught up with religious devotees preparing
for a Good Friday procession featuring their patron saint, Maria
Dolorosa, in a life-like statue holding a white handkerchief,
its face grieving.
But what I was looking for really -- a desire most likely shared
by other curious travelers who have heard the story -- was the
mysterious statue of Sta. Rita, a woman wearing the same clothes
as that of the Virgin Mary but holding a skull in one hand. According
to local legend, the skull belongs to the woman's husband whom
she killed for reasons nobody in the island seems to know.
I sensed uneasiness when I asked townsfolk about this particular
statue, hoping to get a glimpse of it myself. I was told the statue
is now being kept inside the church convent by the town's parish
priest. I was hoping that it would be among those that would be
paraded during the procession but to no avail. Much to our dismay,
my friends and I only saw how the statue looks like in picture.
Even so, the image is very much haunting.
There is actually a story behind the decision not to display the
statue anymore. Believed to be made of gold, the statue was stolen
a few years ago. Months after it disappeared, the statue was recovered
in the province of Bohol, the body about to be sawed in half.
Religious statues being stolen is not very uncommon in the country,
as this has happened in other provinces as well.
While a few of the Siquijodnons I met during my visit regaled
me with interesting stories about witchcraft, most of the locals
I've talked to say the same thing: they believe mananambals do
exist but that belief in God is still what is important.
On the far end of the spectrum, there are those religious devotees
who readily dismiss witchcraft as mere hearsay. Aling Herminia,
a devotee from the town of Maria, even lamented the way belief
in witchcraft has been depicted and "sensationalized" by local
media especially on television. However, she admitted the existence
of mananambals and the rituals they perform in the mountains.
The community of healers, if ever there is one, is regarded by
many as a minority in the island, residing in the mountains of
San Antonio.
The island of Siquijor is an interesting mix of the mystical and
traditional Catholic beliefs. But it is no different from any
other province, especially in rural areas, where religion asserts
a big influence in people's lives. Local belief -- even when it
comes to witchcraft -- is still somewhat grounded on religion.
Nonetheless, I am not throwing away my precious ration of palena.
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