The Pagsusunong ng Pupuwa is a penance ritual by women in Gasan, Marinduque. Women paticipants are garbed in long black garments, their heads crowned with pupuwa leaves which completely hide their faces. The penitents walk barefoot during the procession around Gasan, praying the rosary while following religious images.
This photo is part of the exhibit of the National Museum branch in Marinduque.
Morion Penitent in Gasan
The streets were full and it was difficult to take an uncluttered shot. I asked my subject to stand against the closed doors of a hardware store which served as a backdrop.
The morion's costume was unique and woven.
This photo is part of the exhibit of the National Museum branch in Marinduque.
Sta. Clara Father and Daughter
Prayer petitions and egg offerrings at Sta. Clara Convent
People come to offer eggs here to request for good weather on specified days – birthdays, wedding days or just any occasion where downpour could spoil festivities. The nuns of the Order of St. Claire of Assisi who lead lives in complete devotion to God, include such petitions in their prayers.
But appeals are not limited to weather conditions, pleas could be anything. Outside the building across the church, long tables have been laid out, occupied by people filling out slips of paper with requests for prayers. The petitions are dropped into metallic repositories that resemble ballot boxes, eventually finding their way to the hands of the nuns. A receptionist receives gifts and tributes and places them in a revolving contrivance that ingests the packages, delivering them to the unseen world behind the walls.
I chanced upon this father, kid in tow, filling up a prayer form. I wondered what he could be seeking intercession for. In his kid's face, I see nothing but hope.
Juan Ponce. Siquijor Mananambal.
I sat in the sala of Mang Juan Ponce, the oldest mananambal (healer) in Siquijor, with his years approaching a century. His wooden house stood at the edge of a forest shrouded in mist, deep inside the mountains, in the municipality of San Antonio.
Mang Juan, the gatekeeper of mythical secrets handed down from generations past, appeared frail but exuded immense wisdom and subdued power. He sat Churchill-like in the corner of the sala, his hands resting on the shaft of a cane, his sunken eyes studying me intently. Mananambals are the good guys. They heal the afflicted and ease their pain. April 2010
(Mang Ponce passed away not long after that visit).
Siquijor Black Saturday
This is the most interesting gathering I will ever experience in my life, I thought.
Morning found us back in the forests of San Antonio where herbal practitioners and mananambals from all over the country had assembled—as they did every year during Holy Week. Their unusual purpose: to replenish their supply of herbs and to brew sumpa, the panacea to cure people, deter spells and ward off spirits. Potions concocted on Black Saturday are supposedly the most potent since the power of other supernatural forces and spirits can be summoned with Christ temporarily dead.
Some were sorting herbs or chopping branches and roots. But the main crowd was gathered around a cauldron, watching the brew—which consisted of tree shavings, coconut oil, candle wax gathered from graves around the island, beehive, herbs and chipped fragment from church walls—simmer over smouldering firewood fanned by mountain breezes.
It was a no frills affair and everyone kept to himself. Once the sumpa had fully melted, the contents of the cauldron were distributed to all mananambals present; and one by one they retreated and disappeared back into their own lives. The whole event ended as quickly as it had begun.
Bolo-Bolo
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Sto. Nino came to her in a dream.
When she awoke, Conching Achay found a small black stone beside her bed. And she understood her calling.
Her healing instruments are rudimentary: a small, black stone, a half-foot bamboo tube, and a glass. With these, she performs the bolo-bolo, a healing ceremony that is unique even to her province, where strangeness is commonplace.
The black stone is dropped into the glass, half-filled with water. Using the bamboo tube, Nang Conching blows air into the water and presses the glass against the afflicted part of the patient. The water turns murky, and dirt and debris appear in the water from nowhere.
The glass is emptied, refilled with clear water, and the procedure is repeated. Again and again, until the water finally stays clear. All toxins have been purged from the ailing patient’s body.
Nanay Conching attributes her healing powers to the supernatural. The stone is a gift from beyond. She had lost it once on a visit to Manila. She prayed to St. Nino. When she returned to Siquijor, she found the stone waiting for her on her bed. Once, an unbeliever attempted to split it into two with a cleaver. The stone was not damaged, yet the bolo-wielder was struck down by an unknown force and died on the spot.
She prays constantly. A large altar with religious images is a distinct feature of her humble home. When she fails to pray, she is weakened significantly.
She is soft-spoken; her words are sparse yet potent. “Do not forget the Lord. Above all things.”
Dane Glico. Chandelier-Maker.
Ever wondered how those grand chandeliers in Barasoain Church, Malolos Cathedral and Marilao Basilica are made? Ex-seminarian Dane Glico, his brother Donnie, and his community of workers, are immersed in the tedious craft and process to bring those detailed designs to life. His mother and father built a chapel in their compound when he was young thinking we would eventually become a priest.
