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Enchanting Siquijor

* Ivy's 59-year old Australian fiancé wanted her to have tattoos in exchange of practical offers like a new roof and new tiles for her parent's house

* Some were drinking alcoholic beverages while playing "tong its." That Holy Friday, was, to some, a Goodtime Friday

* The Holy Week was the perfect time for Mambabarangs to look for their talismans and ingredients for bad and good potions. Early morning on Good Friday, they prepare harmful potions but not for public viewing

* The best way to end the trip was to spend it alone on the beach with the ever loyal moon as my company waiting for a silhouette of a witch on a broomstick. But there are no witches in Siquijor, only white beautiful beaches, beautiful people and enchanting experiences

By Jyh Ming G. Duenas

Tuesday morning of Holy Week, I sat in the terminal of Tacurong, North Cotabato. I was deciding on where to go. My eyes were darting between the Rural Transit bound for Cagayan de Oro City and the small van that goes to Maguindanao.

My original plan was to go to Maguindanao to find Samoan Sulaiman, a Gawad Manlilikha Awardee on music and then, to Marawi to see the great Lanao Lake, followed by Cagayan before going back to Iloilo. Anyway, eventually, I chose the bus bound for Cagayan. It's the same bus that took me here to Cebu, Dumaguete and then to Siquijor.

LIBERAL DUMAGUETE

After nine hours at sea, I arrived in Cebu at 6 am. I took a bus to Liloan, the southern tip of Cebu . It was a three-hour bus ride of coastal and heritage sites. From there, a 30-minute fast craft ride took me to Sibulan, Dumaguete. I met a 17-year-old girl who was not feeling well and she asked me to be with her. She came all the way from Catarman, Samar to have a summer vacation with her uncle in Dumaguete. She swore to take the plane next time. Exhausted, she cried when she saw her aunt and uncle. Her uncle gave me a ride in a motorcycle from Sibulan to the center of Dumaguete City .

Then, I remembered my friend Jishnu, a musician, visual and tattoo artist from Cebu who has a tattoo and piercing shop in Dumaguete. Well, he was just a text away so he gave me instructions to his shop and I easily located it. Stooping down to a woman's hips concentrating on the needle works of two hearts with the customer's name and her fiancé, he said 'hi.' He introduced me to Ivy, a frequent customer. Ivy showed me her tattoos. She has four - a rose on her upper left chest, a butterfly on the right portion of her back, a blue bird on her right ankle and the newly tattooed corny hearts. Two things that I learned about tattoos, either you want to have it or someone wants you to have it. In Ivy's case, she hated needles and piercing. But since her 59-year old Australian fiancé wants it in exchange of practical offers like a new roof and new tiles for her parent's house, she turned her body into a canvass. She accompanied me to explore the city of Dumaguete . You can tour the whole downtown area just by walking. There were no jeeps, only tricycles and big and small vintage buses. I haven't even seen any taxi. There are lots of scooters and motorbikes. That's why there's no traffic jam there.

The vibes are almost the same in every city, but the people's attitude and behavior differ. The people of Dumaguete are friendlier, open and modern. Though a stranger offered me a free ride, Ivy took me to a stroll. One artist gave me a room for the night. There, permanent tattoos are acceptable, intermarriages of foreigners met through the Internet is a trend, tourism, and the influx of students from different cities in the Visayas enrolled in its famous University. The latter is the major reason why Dunaguete became a city, said the locals. There, people are non-judgmental, free-thinking and realistic; I felt it.

I went back to Jisnu's place with a nose pin. In a matter of seconds, my desire was fulfilled; there was no need to go to India for a nose piercing. I had it here.

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He took me to a home studio of a lady artist, Susan Canoy. She is an amazing woman. She mastered all media in painting including sculpture and installation. I admire her so much for having art as her livelihood. I believe you can only say that you are successful when you earn from what your efforts and from something you love best. We talked about art, life and struggles as a woman, mother and artist until 2 am.

With barely three hours of sleep, I woke up and had a quick coffee with Susan. I left some of my things and headed for the famous boulevard and leisurely walk to the pier where a fast craft is waiting for me to Siquijor.

BUMPY RIDE

Inside the fast craft, I saw one of the crew handing out plastic bags which made me think, "This will be quite a ride." It was! Acid and bitterness are not only for tasting but for smelling as well. We are six in a row and I was the only one who was left sitting on my back . I enjoyed the ride, as long as there's no storm on the way, I always consider a bumpy boat ride a challenge.

WONDERFUL PEOPLE

After almost an hour of feeling like a popcorn being shaken, we reached the port of Siquijor. I was surprised to see white sand and very clean surroundings. There's not much commercial progress, which is a very good sign.

Jishnu sent his friend Nicky to fetch me at the pier. I recognized him instantly with his long hair and "borloloys. He took me to a cottage owned by his friend Stephen. They are group of divers who warmly welcomed me. They were all relaxing and preparing for an evening dive. Cool! Nicky and I strolled at the Poblacion and he took me to Nanay Meriam, a school principal. She's very enthusiastic and jolly.

I was starving and Nanay Meriam invited me for lunch at her cottage at the beach in Cang-Alwang. At the knee deep seaside, I picked "lato" just the way I was picking picking camote leaves in my backyard. It tasted so good when eaten with rice and steamed cassava. After feeling full, I slept.

Nanay Meriam is a memory keeper for her family. She showed us her treasures like ribbons and medallions back in the 60's during her elementary years. She also showed her report cards, souvenir programs and other stuff until her college graduation. She compiled all her "sedulas," and income tax returns. I was amazed with the classic manual mimeograph. She has her own personal archive. Seldom can you meet someone who you can meet this kind of person who just rides with the times and values each memory. I was honored to meet Nanay Meriam.

We went back to the Poblacion to meet Jishnu who just arrived from Dumaguete. We headed to Guiwanon Spring. It has brackish water because the spring is located at the sea shore. When the tide is high, the spring water and sea water combine. It is also a mangrove reservation area.

I slept in one of the cottages again and I was awakened with a pang of sadness, I miss my family back in Iloilo.

HOLY THURSDAY

Around 6:30 pm, I looked at the sky and told Jishnu and Nicky that the moon is kind of shy that night even when it was two days away from its full glory. When we stopped in front of the Francis Assisi Church, Nicky saw the clouds around the moon forming into a face. We were awed at that sight. As if there was an apparition. At first there were only the nose and the eyes, but the clouds moved and a complete face of a man with a beard looked down at below us. We had goose bumps. It lasted for about 35 seconds or so. It was phenomenal! I think we were the only ones who saw it, so we considered ourselves lucky. Excitedly, we went to Nanay Meriam and told her of that strange encounter. She was thrilled.

ISLA DEL FUEGO

Upon knowing that we are heading for San Antonio, Nanay Meriam asked her younger sister Nanay Sandra to accommodate us in her home because it's near Camp Bandilaan. That's where we will start our "Via Crusis" or 14 stations of the cross the next morning. Nanay Sandra fetched us at Nanay Meriam's house together with his son, John. It was already dark, the road to San Antonio was like a trek on the forest at night time (only I was riding in a motorcycle). The wind was cold and misty and the subtle sounds of the rustling leaves and the bending of bamboo branches made the night memorable.

There were no lamp posts in the paved mountainsides. Our sources of light were the moon and the motorcyle's headlights. The moment we started going up, the trees became thicker. The surroundings were dark and mystifying. I was surprised to see a little firefly. I looked around, wishing to see more. Then, one by one, these little insects appeared, sparkling and twinkling like little stars. This is the reason why Siquijor is known as Isla del Fuego or Island of Fire. Old folks said that long ago, almost all the trees were inhabited by fireflies and from a distance, it looked like the tree was on fire.

The last time I saw fireflies was in Grade One, I was seven years old then. I placed it inside a glass jar and it died the next day. I really wish that biologists would find ways to culture them.

ENDLESS ENCHANTMENTS

The sound of the birds woke me up. I took a bath and went to the center of the town. A very typical small church stood beside a small school. They were surrounded by small houses made of wood. I felt like was in a Hispanic era, in a dream, as there were few people around. I saw an old lady carrying a bucket of water and a man working on a water pump. Only the three of us were around.

A cup of strange turmeric tea was waiting for me when I got back to Nanay Sandra's home. It was fragrant. With the hot tea on my hand, Nicky took me to a neighbor's garden. Nang Josie grew apple seedlings. An apple tree in Siquijor? This island is truly enchanted. Her onions grew flowers too, she said. She added that it's a potent ingredient in making "lumay" or a love potion. She gave one flower to me and I wondered to whom will I use that.

Nanay Sandra prepared a feast for breakfast. There were boiled vegetables, sautéed vegetables, boiled bananas and different root crops. After eight days of non-stop traveling, it was my first normal meal. I'm a vegetarian, thus the meal was heavenly.

We started our walk of faith towards the farmland of Nanay Meriam's family. There lies a small log cabin on a hill and under it lives some newly born piglets. Their mother was a product of a wild male boar and a native female pig. She was unbelievably productive because it gave birth for the 16th time and with nine litters.

Down the hill are vegetable gardens, Nipa plantation and rice fields. At the center was a natural spring with waterlilies on the side. The water was greenish blue. I want to dive in but Nang Josie told me it's very deep, as deept as the length of a bamboo. Nicky and Jishnu encouraged me to dive, but I told them "I'm very sorry, I would sank in fresh water. It supplies drinking water for the whole town of San Antonio."

Not been able to dive, I just imagined my self floating at the center with my white thin dress and my hair spreading in the water, looking at the moon like the water lilies.

We continued our way to Camp Bandilaan. Tired and sweating, we hitched for the remaining three-kilometer distance. We rested and cooled by drinking fresh buko juice before starting our climb to Mount Bandilaan, the highest peak in Siquijor.

The climb was easy because it was paved with steps; we reached the top in 20 minutes. Along the way we met Brit, a Peace Corpse volunteer who speaks Bisaya fluently. Like me, he was enchanted with the island.

What goes up must come down; it was a lot easier.

It was a Good Friday, supposedly a time for contemplation, abstinence and penance. But on the way down, we saw pilgrimers having the time of their lives eating "afritada" and "sarciado". Some were drinking alcoholic beverages while playing "tong its." That Holy Friday, was, to some, a Goodtime Friday.

We went back to the Poblacion at around 2 pm. I rented a scooter to take me to Asia's oldest convent in Lazi, the San Isidro Labrador Convent. It's located at the center of the town facing the old church, the biggest church in Siquijor. It was magnetic! I was hypnotized all the way inside. I was alone on the receiving area besides the secretary on the other room. It was creepy, cold and it could be haunted with old memories and vibrations. Ghost stories hound it. It stood the test of time maybe because of its "ghost guardians" or most probably, it was made of hard wood like Guijo and Molave.

Next stop was the Cambugahayan falls. On the way a brown snake crossed our path. The falls was 110 steps away from the entrance. It was already late in the afternoon when I got there. Excursionists were already packing their things and on their way up. So I found myself alone in the turquoise water with my red underwear, I was like a nymph in the middle of a rainforest. It was just a quick dip. I was just thankful to have a patient driver.

On our way back to Siquijor proper, we dropped by the oldest oak tree in town, the Balete in Campalanas. It was old, huge, and splendid! I worshipped it before I left.

My trip to Siquijor will not be complete without meeting a "mambabarang", a person who practices black magic, I told the driver I am looking for one and he took me to the home of Maximiano Agan in San Juan. He is known for his invulnerability against knives and sharp objects including guns. He has been practicing black magic for 28 years. He told me his healing oil doesn't ran out; he has never refilled it. That's one aspect that makes him unique from other healers in Siquijor.

The Holy Week was the perfect time for Mambabarangs to look for their talismans and ingredients for bad and good potions. Early morning on Good Friday, they prepare harmful potions but not for public viewing. On Black Saturday, they prepare potions for healing. And on Sunday they make love potions or lumay. I am quite sad that I could not witness these rituals since I will be leaving Saturday morning. But sure it gave me reason to come back to Siquijor for the next year's Holy Week.

San Juan is also unique because there is an overflowing spring at the center of the town and they built a pool out of it and it became a tourist destination. It was getting darker so I made the driver drive fast to the Poblacion proper to catch the religious procession. It's the usual religious commemoration of the death of Jesus Christ, but it was more intimate and communal.

It was my last night in Siquijor. I sat by the fountain in front of the church just trying to feel the place and enjoy the moment of peace. One by one, the people dispersed after kissing the cold and holy images dressed in grand gala inside the church.

The best way to end the trip was to spend it alone on the beach with the ever loyal moon as my company waiting for a silhouette of a witch on a broomstick. But there are no witches in Siquijor, only white beautiful beaches, beautiful people and enchanting experiences.

I went home enchanted without whispering "tabi- tabi" or "pwera usog."