RED HOUSE

As a requirement for one of our courses, my classmates and I had to do a survey about family planning. My group was assigned to cover the Sampaloc district.

    Getting interviews every four houses wasn't bad at all. I didn't have to walk far. I reached my last sample household for the day and knocked on the door. A dark plump woman with hair in a bun opened it. She reminded me of a character in the movie 'South Pacific", the one who sang "Happy Talk". 

    "Kayo po ba ang maybahay?" (Are you the housewife {of this household}?), I asked.

    "Oo. Bakit?" (Yes. Why?), she replied with an Ilocano accent.

    After explaining my purpose, she agreed. The living room accommodated only a small couch and one straight-backed wooden chair. There was a cotton curtain with psychedelic design separating the room from the other parts of the house. Hardly had I started to ask questions when a man and a woman who was in kamison (chemise) came out to the living room. The middle-aged man looked at me with appraising eyes and asked: "Ne, tagarito ka?" (Young miss, do you live here?). As I replied with a "No", another couple came out. The middle-aged man said goodbye to my respondent and left. The young woman went back to wherever it was behind the curtain. I felt a little uneasy. I turned to my respondent and asked her about her children.

      "Wala akong anak. Dalaga ako" (I don't have children. I'm single). She misunderstood "maybahay" (wife) for "may bahay" (house owner) when I asked her permission to conduct the interview. I apologized for taking her time and quickly rose to my feet. As I was leaving, the man said: "Ne, babalik ka dito, ha?" (You'll come back here, won't you?). I didn't bother to answer or look back. I walked quickly to the variety store on the opposite side of the road. My classmate was aready there having a chat with the storeowner.

       "Bakit ka pumasok dun?" (Why did you enter that place?), the storeowner asked me. "Putahan yon! Buti na lang walang nangyari sa iyo." (It's a whorehouse! It's good nothing happened to you).

HANSEL AND GRETEL IN LEYTE

One of the areas in my research on traditional healers was Leyte. Somehow I managed to coax my good friend and former classmate, Vic,  to serve as my interviewer/translator. 

I used the snowball technique in locating healers. All interviews and observations went well until we went to see Mang Teroy…

Ours was an unannounced visit, but Mang Teroy agreed to be interviewed after Vic explained our purpose. He was about 5 ft. tall, about 65 years old, a bit on the squat side, with dark skin and balding head. His neat bamboo and nipa hut lay at the center of the yard which was, to my estimate, more than 1,000 square meters. There were mango trees, papaya, and coconut trees. There were loose but friendly dogs and some chickens. 

We were invited to enter his house and were led past the small living room-cum-healing area to the veranda.  Though I could speak only a few phrases in Waray, I could understand the dialect. 

Towards the middle of Mang Teroy’s story-telling, a woman in her 20s came with her son who was about 5 years old. What luck! We would also get to observe his healing technique. He told the boy to sit on a bamboo stool in the living room. Then he started to light the charcoal which he placed in a coconut shell (bao), sprinkled some dried herbs on it and waited until there was smoke. He sat in front of the boy to start his rituals… and my heart almost stopped! Horror of horrors! He made an inverted sign of the cross, starting from his solar plexus to his forehead, to his right shoulder and finally to his left. He was using “dark forces” for his healing!

“Vic, alis na tayo. Ngayon na! (Vic, we have to leave fast. Now!), I frantically whispered to him.

“Baliw ka. Di pa tapos ang interview” (You’re crazy. The interview isn’t over yet), Vic answered. His irritation was obvious. “May toilet naman siguro dito (There might be a toilet here), he added, thinking that I just needed to use the bathroom.

“Now na! Bilis! Sabihin mo, babalik na lang tayo” (Now! Hurry! Just ell him we’ll come back). My hands were getting clammy from fear.

Mercifully, Vic got up, as if exasperated with a child, approached Mang Teroy and bade for us a hasty farewell and thanks. It took a lot of effort for me not to break into a run once we reached the bottom of the bamboo stairs.

After a few meters, I told him what I saw. He said something in Waray which to me sounded like an expletive. He made the proper Sign of the Cross, reached for my hand and practically dragged me to the road on a half-run half-walk. We probably looked like overgrown and over-aged Hansel and Gretel running away from the wicked witch!

        We hailed a tricycle and told the driver to bring us to the jeepney terminal. The driver must have thought us eccentric because once we were seated, Vic and I started laughing our fears away.