Bewitched in Siquijor: A Brush with Folkloric Filipino Healing

I HAVE YET TO TELL THE LADY about my ailment, yet it seems she already senses it. In this breezy little thatch-roofed hut, I sit down with Tessie Palahang-Calimpon for a rather unusual health consultation. The middle-aged village chief sits beside me and picks up my right arm. Then she slowly moves her hand from my shoulder toward my fingers. She stops at my sore wrist, which despite its normal appearance has been nagging me for days. 

 “It’s painful here, isn’t it?” she queries. “Yes. it hurts when I move it.” I reply. Manay Tessie (“Aunty Tessie” in the dialect) nods knowingly and gets to work. She lightly massages my arm, paying special attention to its lower half. Occasionally she gives it a gentle blow that tickles the tiny hairs on my skin. Then she puts her attention on my neck and head, her constant kneading still punctuated by slow bursts of her breath.  

“I feel this has something to do with your head,” Manay Tessie says as she carefully handles my scalp. Her technique isn’t that of a traditionally trained therapist, but more like that of a mother easing a bump on an anxious child’s head. “I think you are stressed with your work,” she queries, “I notice that your sore wrist is the same one you hold your camera with…” 

She could be onto something here. I have, for weeks, been busy balancing photography jobs and family commitments, and it’s only on this trip that I’ve begun to let off steam. Tessie is a magtatawal—a person who heals with the use of her breath—and she is one of many supposedly mystical persons in this place I am visiting. This is Siquijor Island, a little-known isle with lush forests, turquoise beaches, and—if you believe the local folklore—plenty of witchcraft. Located in the country’s Visayas region, it’s that odd, 34,400-hectare island (roughly half the land area of Singapore) that the rest of the Philippines seems to regard as “somewhat different.” 

Not too long ago, folks like Manay Tessie might have been labeled by outsiders as one of Siquijor Island’s notorious witches. However, those familiar with folk medicine have much respect for her benevolent ways—which is why I decided to consult her for the pain in my wrist. “You need to relax”, she says after completing her breath therapy, “your wrist is unwell only because of the stress in your head”. 

The Way to Wellness 

With much eagerness I heed her advice, and for the next few days make great efforts to chill out. Thankfully, Siquijor Island has everything I need to forget about work. Fine white sand and crystalline waters beckon at the coast, especially along the town of San Juan on the west where a loose cluster of boutique resorts, bars and restaurants offer touristy diversions. On the other hand, the island’s east side is pure elemental joy thanks to spots like Salagdoong Beach—a public park hemmed by karst hillsides overlooking the emerald sea. There’s also the Tulapos Marine Sanctuary where I wade into mangroves and gawk at a congregation of giant saltwater-spitting clams.  

My “travel therapy” extends into the hinterlands as well. I rent a motorbike and wander through the mountainous interior, where the countryside roads are accompanied by rustic villages and swathes of tropical forest. I check out the easily accessible viewpoint at Siquijor’s highest peak—the 557-meter Mt. Bandilaan, which features a sweeping 360-degree view of the verdant island. Then I stop at the Lazi Butterfly Sanctuary to marvel at the resident species of winged jewels. Held for breeding purposes before being released into the wild, these brilliantly hued insects are a form of magic in their own right. 

Siquihodnon Sorcery 

The next day while riding along the coast, I come across the Olang Arts Park—a privately run venue that has recently begun hosting folk healers. Here I get to know Ricardo Oyog, a mananambal (another term for healer) who specializes in traditional herbal medicine. His specialty is the tuob—a form of steam immersion made by burning a mixture of medicinal herbs. 

I am told that this treatment improves one’s general wellbeing, and—when complemented with the right ingredients and prayers—can reputedly solve anything from a skin rash to infertility. “Pananambal is indigenous medicine that existed long before this country was colonized,” notes the 57-years-old Oyog, who inherited his skills from his mother. Spanish missionaries were said to have dismissed the practice as witchcraft and encouraged the healers to incorporate Christian elements. The mananambal rituals are truly arcane—and they offer an intriguing glimpse into the rarely seen, pre-Hispanic side of Philippine culture. 

By the time my last day on this island arrives, the notion of hard work has already become a distant memory. Likewise, the advice of Manay Tessie the magtatawal seems to be as potent as her mystical breath. Now I wield my camera without pain, and—thanks to this island’s unbridled beauty—I am happily taking pictures with a wide-eyed sense of wonder. Just before heading to the ferry that will return me to the big city, I make one last visit to a medicine man.  

In contrast to the mananambal’s extensive kit of prayers and herbs, Enrique Bonatsita’s healing tools are a plastic straw, a glass of water and a black pebble. With these he is said to draw out all sorts of impurities from one’s body. Enrique is a bolo-bolo healer, a man who is said to have magically “extracted” bloodstained bandages from a sick nurse’s limbs, and musical notes from an ailing musician’s eyes. His story is so fantastic that I want to meet him in person. 

Nong Iking (“Uncle Iking” as the neighbors call him) puts the straw to his mouth and starts blowing bubbles into the glass. He waves the gurgling contraption over my legs, midsection, head, arms and my previously damaged wrist. To my surprise, a layer of fine white sand slowly appears inside the glass. Apart from that, the water seems to be clean. 

“I see you’ve been spending time at the seashore”, he remarks. He empties and refills the glass and repeats the process. The water stays fresh—an indication, perhaps, of my revitalized wellbeing.  

The bolo-bolo healer finishes up and puts away his gear. “You’re in good shape”, he declares. 

How to get to Siquihor Island: A domestic flight from Manila, Philippines can take you to Dumaguete City, from where the island of Siquijor is an hour’s ferry ride. 

Where to stay: Infinity Heights Resort (https://infinityresortssiquijor.com/ihr/) near Siquijor Pier offers villas with sweeping views from the hillside.

Photos by Lester V. Ledesma, unless otherwise noted. Hero and lede image by Nikada/E+ via GettyImages.

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