'Babaylan'

I can still taste the water in my mouth: that which was fetched from my great grandmother's well collected in a clay jug. There was a a trace of 'lupa', or soil (yes, I know how it tastes like as at several times in my childhood, I would fall on my face while playing hide-and-seek.); and a tinge of sweetness. What struck me was that the water was moderately cold, not unlike those stored in pitchers and put in refrigerators. I did not ask my great grandma why that was, I just assumed it was the clay jug that did the trick. 

Jay T. Batoon, our speaker on the 'Babaylan' as part of the Carl Jung Circle Center's Depth Psychology shared the story of his great-grandmother this morning. He used an audio-visual presentation to introduce his 'Lola Lilang', a 'Babaylan'. A search in Google would note: 'The 'babaylan' was a prominent figure in pre-colonial Philippine society, sometimes described as a priestess or shaman. Babaylans acted as healers, prophets and mediums, curing illnesses and exorcising evil spirits from objects and people. The babaylan would often be called when the community was experiencing difficulties that could not be resolved by physical means. They would perform a ritual through chants or prayers to pacify the spirits that caused chaos in the community. The position of the babaylan is usually associated with women.'

His story evoked memories of my great grandmother, and my grandmother, Lola Coring, who was in her way, a 'Babaylan' of her own kind: she believed in creatures not of this world. I recall a time when Kriska, our youngest, at one year old, grew these rashes on her face and body which would not go away after numerous creams and ointments. Lola Coring from the onset insisted that we offer water and oil along the area where our kitchen was, because she was certain she unintentionally 'disturbed' the place of dwelling of underworld creatures one time when she unceremoniously threw hot water there. She said she forgot to say 'kayo-kayo', or the Ilocano way of saying, 'excuse me' to the creatures, warning them to stay clear so that 'they' would not be hurt. She hurt them, so they exacted revenge by way of the incurable ugly rashes which appeared on Kriska's body, 'kinaybaan' she called Kring's condition. So in our desperation to find relief for Kriska, we did as Lola requested. After 'offering' water and oil to serve as balm for the 'creatures' she hurt, she used the same water and oil as balm for Kriska's rashes. In less than twenty-four hours, the rashes healed. 

Water and oil was also those which Lola Coring used for her 'lampara', her makeshift lamp made of old, empty bottle of gin, a 'tansan' (bottlecap) from which a thin cloth poked, serving a wick. I have always wondered why she did not use candles instead. She used guava leaves to cure everything where it hurt. If her 'apos' had wounds, crushed guava leaves and the water these where boiled with served as the antiseptic. 'Tanglad' leaves she boiled and mixed with our bath water if we had colds and cough. She used Iloco vinegar (from sugarcane) to wipe us down, with hot water, to fend off fever. Together with that, she put crushed ginger on our soles, covered them with socks. Half an onion she put somewhere in our room overnight. Once I asked her where the soy sauce was because it seemed she planned on cooking 'adobo' and not to make us feel better. 

It is only today, after Jay's presentation that it dawned on me: the Babaylans (and my great grandmother & Lola Coring, in some way) made right every small wrong thing, with what nature offered. I try now to imagine what nature was like the time our grandmothers were born. Perhaps the forests and the mountains were lorded over by indigenous trees, tall and green. Perhaps the of air was scented by leaves. The wind, gentle, to which trees swayed. Rainwater poured ever so lightly on nipa huts, the sound lulled babies to sleep. Clear waters snaking its way through stones and rocks. Seas blue, sand white, waves peeping up then sneaking back down. 

My cynicism over the idea of the existence of those who are unseen, that which cannot be touched and felt, was defeated by the astounding possibilities presented us today. Our tendencies for the theatrical has surfaced the dark side of the unseen: evil spirits, witch spells, and the like. The powers of 'healing', Latin and Tagalog chants over rainwater during the Holy Week, collected and used as 'holy water', the mix of leaves used as potions for diseases not explained through science; these must be received in the spirit of the shared self. Aside from the Babaylans' gifts having been used to help others, to better their lives, they drew their 'power' from nature. That which was created, painted in color, and given life, by one God.