𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬?

𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐬?

(Book Review: Way of the Ancient Healer: Sacred Teachings from the Philippine Ancestral Traditions by Virgil Mayor Apostol: North Atlantic Books, Berkeley, California; 2010)

I picked up this book for reasons you probably wouldn't expect.

The moment I flipped over its pages, I knew more or less what I was getting into, yet I still wanted to read it through, hoping to be challenged or provoked in the face of my own personal beliefs. You see, growing up in a town (and province) known for all sorts of traditional 'faith healers' and albularyos, it's but natural to know these things first-hand, so the book offers some kind of a comparative literature.

So, without even trying, this book is unputdownable to me from the outset. If some parts proved to be a hard slog for me, I skipped them temporarily and jumped to this and that page without a problem. But in the end, I made sure I pored through the book from cover to cover, especially its wonderful plates of photos and illustrations.

I learned that Apostol's scope in this book is limited to Northern Luzon, so his discussions are heavily focused on Ilocano and Igorot/Cordillera traditions, but his title implied a nationwide coverage. That's understandable, and there are references to practices outside North Luzon, but I immediately noticed the absence of any representation from Pangasinan, an ironic omission, as the province supposedly belongs to the Ilocos region or Region I officially, and northern Luzon culturally. While that curious pyramid shrine in Manaoag was mentioned in one section, traditional Pangasinense practices are left out for some reason. The unintended result in this reader is that I am reminded of Pangasinenses' own practices, with their own unique terms, even though admittedly there are a few terms commonly shared with the Ilocanos.

Reading through the various practices takes me on a journey back in time, as I remember how I witnessed people at home suddenly turn dizzy, vomit, then faint for no reason except that they were allegedly "abambanuan" or "nabati" in Tagalog because they were either too hungry or too tired when someone greeted them innocently. Or that one victim ended up the same after he took a leak in some "katakelan" or "kasupokan" (kasukalan) or passed by a "pungol" (nuno sa punso) without saying "Bambano lalig..." as a by your leave or greetings to the "agnanengneng" (elementals or unseen spirits). ...And how each one of them eventually recovered after he/she was lightly whipped with a combination of stalks of guyabano, guava, and malunggay leaves.

I saw with my own eyes certain unusual and mysterious skin lesions that even the town's doctors could not identify nor even heal, only to vanish without a trace within one day after a managtambal made the "correct diagnosis": "Akapuldak kayo na agnanengneng" (you have (unknowingly) scalded or burned an unseen spirit by mindlessly throwing hot water outside the house or anywhere else without ever saying, "Tabi, tabi..." as a warning).

I grew up witnessing people around me consulting albularios and managtambals who used different methods and practices that we routinely laugh at today: panagtawas (use of alum), panagparas (use of melting candle or egg), panag-gaton (use of a distinct set of offerings or atang, including cigarettes, for offended deities or spirits), panagtawag (saying "Gala-gala-gala, _______ (your name)! if you got traumatized with fright that your soul seems to have left your earthly body), panagtambal ed baltik or amling (saying "Puwera baltik", then applying spittle on some unfortunate victim's (usually a baby) body part), panagbanyos (hot herbal bath for someone who has just given birth), panag-ilot (hilot for sprains and fractures), pang-usar na bulu-bulong (use of herbs as teas, coupled with prayers), parasal (novenas or non-Christian prayer of sorts as sung by the manag-kantores), the use of certain amulets to dispel the power of evil entities, putting wet cotton on a baby's forehead to cure sinok (hiccups), etc.

Some local practices were even fused with Catholic imagery and practices, as some folk would go home carrying stories about a healer somewhere in Bautista who was "inapunan" (possessed) by God the Father, Jesus Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Santo Niño, and so on. Then there was the Lenten practice of panaglarak, producing healing oil from coconuts.

I remember participating in a gugol or gulgol ritual twice, to avoid disease or misfortune, or something to that effect, brought about by a certain inauspicious or unlucky birth order of the kids in the family (a phenomenon called salachado).

In our town, there are even obscure practices such as the "panag-ekal na buro" method, wherein the healer applies garlic-infused oil on the body part that is itchy and strikes that part using a few strands of long hair. Tiny strings allegedly emerge from that edematous part, indicating the release of the substance causing the itch. Another similar method removes the "bunga" (literally "fruit," but it refers to a certain substance) that emerges out of an eye infected with an itchiness of some sort.

I remember how a relative once vomited a half-full orinola of blood, which turned out to be pig's blood, and puzzlingly emerged alive, only to learn that she was victimized by a manananem (witch). I remember how one visitor, presumably a manananem, exorcised the work of another witch by working on her poor victims who were said to be "ataneman" (nakulam). Stories circulated back then that this or that person was a witch, and to place an upturned "walis tingting" (coconut midrib broom) by the door to drive her away. Among the indications that you were a victim of a witchcraft include having uneven lines in both your pinkies if you drew them close together side by side.

I also grew up haunted by stories about the managkumaw, mysterious kidnapper of kids, whose blood were allegedly used to ensure that the buildings and bridges under construction would become sturdy upon completion. I grew up being regaled by horror stories involving the anyani (ghost), aswang, manananggal, kapre, tikbalang, tiyanak, duwende, white lady, sirena, siokoy, pugot-ulo, and ghosts of Spanish priests that people swore to have actually seen... In fact, I have two strange personal experiences that I would consider to be ghostly encounters, one at the old Velodrome and another inside the old Bayambang Central School Library. From research by Jordan Clark, Dean Alfred Narra, and others, I would encounter other indigenous terms from the pantheon of Pangasinan cosmology and mythology, such as Amagaoley, Apolaqui, alan, palyon; atros, bambanig, bambao, bantay; baras, bawanen, boroka, bugkalot, dika'y dalin; kantaw, kaybaan or kaibaan, mutya, pasatsat, pugot, silew, talo-talo, and ugaw.

Among Pangasinenses of old, there's even the panaglaboy, panagsokab, or panagpalili ritual, little rituals surrounding the use of something for the first time (such as clothes, house implements, etc.) to ensure that these would last long (be 'matibay').

The only thing I haven't experienced is the sight of this mysterious ball of fire called sigsilew, which I am reminded of in Christopher Gozum short film on Pangasinan healing traditions, "Mina's Family History."

Anyway, despite this head-shaking omission of Pangasinan knowledge and practices related to healing and the spirit world, Apostol's knowledge on the subject is quite impressive because otherwise comprehensive with its global outlook, making the book an engaging read.

Another thing that Apostol reminds me of while reading through his fascinating subject is how accepted, standard, or traditional Catholic practices, when viewed by outsiders, can easily look no different from animism. For aren't we Catholics 'guilty' of the same? Our veneration of saints, complete with "punas-punas" can be easily mistaken for the superstitious worship of bullol or anitos. Our sensuous use of candles, incense, oil for extreme unction, etc. in our ceremonies and rituals are not much different from smoky animist ceremonies. Our novenas, oracions, rosarios, and sung-through prayers -- don't they resemble tribal incantations? And so on.

Then again, even the charismatics', evangelicals', and Protestants' pray-overs and speaking in tongues, at first glance, seem one and the same banana. Even the actions of "healing priests" can be mistaken for vestiges of animism that happen to have been subsumed by or sublimated through Christianity.

***

It's a good thing, too, that the book was well-edited -- I hardly spotted any typo; I just noticed one grammatical error. The author apparently loves his subject and respects his work so much he didn't scrimp on editing services.

Having said all that, and despite my other personal encounters with various forms of non-allopathic or Western/scientific/medical modes of healing like reiki, pranic healing, acupuncture, reflexology, and so on, I can't help but be suspicious and incredulous or at least cautious about the healing practices that Espiritistas like Apostol swear by. It is because, given my background, I can't help but distrust any supernatural power that is not clearly Christian to me.

I will spare you readers from quoting the relevant texts from Scriptures to explain in detail why that is so, knowing how the mere sight of Biblical references is easily tuned out by those who are not predisposed to them. But as even evangelicals would love to say, "even the devil can take the form of an angel."

Then again, what kind of devil would ever want to heal? Healing, per se, is a holy, Godly act.

In the final analysis, I would rather withhold making any judgment on things that are unclear to me or things I don't understand. Apart from my aforesaid misgivings, I enjoyed this book thoroughly as an anthropological work at least, since I chose to see it from that scientific, skeptical, and nonjudgmental standpoint right from the start.

(Acknowledgment: Joey Ferrer for donating the book)