Nilad, the largest city in the archipelago, is famed for its magnificent port where its namesake white flowers bloom everywhere. Large ships from beyond the archipelago dock and unload their cargo of dyed cloth, glazed earthenware, and slaves. All who come and live in this bustling city pay their respect and gold pieces to the Rajah, the chieftain among chieftains.
But in Nilad’s outskirts, the Rajah entrusts the villages to the wise women. These priestesses, gifted with knowledge of the physical and spiritual worlds passed down from mother to daughter, are called babaylans.
Gossip spreads through the slippery lips of village women. They speak too much, to the dismay of their husbands, but that is how the village’s troubles reach the babaylan’s nipa hut. In this house with one sleeping quarter and a front room, Maalwan listens to her apprentice Ligaya describing how a dizzying curse fell upon a fisherman. The man’s muscles stiffened, and his head seared like hot charcoals, making him unfit for fishing.
“A spirit it must be! It cursed my father’s favorite angler. So I’ve asked poor Bano to come this morning for healing,” Ligaya said. The young woman, known for her straight long hair and fair skin, arrived every morning to prepare Maalwan’s breakfast and learn the babaylan’s magic. While Ligaya mashes sweet potatoes, cooks rice, and boils mature chicken eggs, a man calls from outside the babaylan’s nipa hut. “That’s him. The illness must be serious if he arrived before I am done cooking.”
“Don’t worry so much or Bano will lose confidence in us. Let me attend to him,” Maalwan says. She bears the aching pain in her joints as she rises from the bamboo floor. Hiding her grimace, she strides to the garden where she grows herbaceous plants under the watch of stone guardian idols.
On the road, a large man with a sunbaked body obsessively chews his betel nut. He only wears cotton shorts and a cloth belt, which miraculously has not been colored by the nut’s reddish pink. Maalwan decides against welcoming Bano inside where he might spit and stain her nipa hut. She says, “Chewing will numb the pain, but the betel nut and its spicy leaf covers are no cure for your ailment.”
Bano sneezes, barely keeping the nut in his mouth, and finally shoots it by the side of the road. His speech comes quickly, but he maintains his wit, “Babaylan, my family is coughing with every breath. I performed rituals taught by my mother to ward away this spirit, but it did not depart. So kindly take me under your care. You know spirits better.”
“Thank you for seeking me. If I may ask, do you have any enemies that would bewitch you?” Maalwan asks as a precaution. “Even if they are unfamiliar with the ways of magic, they could hire a witch from the mountains. They can summon an evil spirit that would be difficult even for me to exorcise” But Maalwan wondered why would an enemy pursue Bano? He is a free man, respected by his peers, but unwealthy and without nobility. Their enemies would fare better targeting Nilad’s Rajah, the Radni, and their royal family.
“I’ve made rivals at sea. We compete for fishing spots but are on good terms. They are not wicked men.”
“That is what I thought,” Maalwan says, observing the fisherman’s face is reddish, not swollen. The gossip she heard from Ligaya was exaggerated. “And the symptoms are mild, so we can conclude we are not dealing with an evil spirit sent by an enemy. Then have you done anything to disrespect the nature spirits?”
“Nothing I can remember.” Bano shifts back and forth maybe because he is delirious. Or has he remembered some incident when he might have offended a creature of the spirit world?
“You may have stepped on a termite mound, disturbed a sacred tree, or harmed a dolphin who was an anito in disguise.”
“Spirits, forgive me! What can I do?” The man looks over his shoulder, and although there is no one there, his eyes widen as if he’s seen a ghost.
“Return home and stay there so the negative magic inflicting your body does not spread. My apprentice and I will visit you later.” Maalwan watches him scurry away, carefully avoiding stepping on any plants or insects. She returns to her home and to an appetizing aroma. Mashed sweet potatoes, chicken embryo with egg yolk, and rice. Maalwan dips her hands into the bowl and eats.
Having heard the commotion, Ligaya asks what spells or charms they should use to exorcise the spirit. Coming from a family that owns many rice fields and having a husband dealing in the porcelain trade, Ligaya always wishes to prove herself to be equally capable. By working under Maalwan and becoming a babaylan, Ligaya gains the community’s respect, including that of her family and the Rajah.
“We do not need anything powerful,” Maalwan says. “Oils and herbs should suffice.” If the nature of the sickness is what she suspects, no fire-cleansing or extravagant offerings are required.
“Oh, I wanted to wield the power of a diwata from the sky world or a nature spirit controlling a vast territory.”
“Not until the rice harvest rituals can we summon them. Calling upon powerful spirits to cure simple illnesses may anger them.”
Maalwan dons a blue collarless vest and a long blanket skirt for the exorcism. Wearing brass chains and bracelets protects her against evil magic and appears fashionable. Ligaya, wearing a silk dress and golden ornaments, packs the ingredients for the exorcism.
Together, the women set off for the coast. Bano’s nipa hut overlooks the sea. Hardwood poles elevate his bamboo house, allowing chickens to roost underneath and protecting Bano’s family should the sea flood the land. As Maalwan steps on the steep stairs, she sees that the stone idols guarding the house are clean and carefully placed.
Ligaya tracks her gaze. “This would delight the spirits, so why would they bring an illness to Bano’s household?”
Maalwan replies, “Stay close, child. We will soon find out.”
Coughing above the stairs, the housewife Mayumi welcomes Maalwan. The family’s youngest child, already a man at fifteen, helps Maalwan climb up while Ligaya carries pots and baskets. Maalwan and Mayumi exchange pleasantries, one speaking about an unruly girl suspected of being a fetus-eating changeling and the other boasting about her three older children who have married and built their own homes. The women chatter endlessly like parrots until Bano and his son complain about their sore throats.
Everyone sits on cloth mats. Maalwan asks about their symptoms, recent activities, and if they have any recurring dreams that might have been sent by the spirits. Like Bano, his family’s past days have been routine and their illness is a mild malaise. Mayumi’s symptoms are more severe because she is old and has birthed many children. Despite her lively attitude, Mayumi can hardly stand and is incapable of walking straight.
Maalwan orders Ligaya to apply the coconut oil to the family’s bodies and rub their muscles to cure their stiffness. For their sore throat, Maalwan boils a tea made from the leaves of the sambong shrub. The warm liquid tastes sweet to nourish the body and bitter because spirits hate the flavor. An ointment that makes their foreheads feel cold, Maalwan prescribes for their fever. She explains to the family, “Plants and animals have qualities the spirits like and dislike. By extracting a material’s essence, a babaylan can enhance its effect. Herbal teas, coconut and snake oils, bark ash, and animal bones can ward off the negative influences of the spirit world.”
In the afternoon, the family’s symptoms recede, but Mayumi still coughs hoarsely, her body trying to expel the spirit’s magic. To assist her, Maalwan locks lips with Mayumi and takes in her breath to swallow the negative influence. After each inhale, Maalwan faces the window and forcibly exhales as if vomiting the magic outside the house. When Maalwan gets tired, she gives strict orders for the household to quarantine themselves so that the lingering magic does not spread. She promises to return tomorrow to receive payment and see if they need further treatment.
Ligaya assists Maalwan in standing and as they head out, a ghostly white butterfly flutters by. No one else notices as it flies around and out the window. Maalwan speaks, loud enough for Ligaya to hear, “Let Mayumi stay here. She has strength still, and who will miss her.”
The women return to the babaylan’s house. Ligaya arranges unused magic ingredients and charms on its shelf. Maalwan knows the girl must have been disappointed not to perform a complex ritual or invoke the name of a powerful spirit inhabiting the sky world.
“For the rice harvest, you will have your chance,” Maalwan repeated, “to call upon the wind and rain, the earth and sea, even the Supreme Spirit.”
“Don’t feel forced to trust me with that duty,” Ligaya replies, her shame showing through the redness of her cheeks.
“You will lead the rituals because you are obedient and have to be prepared. Someday, that sacred responsibility will be yours alone.”
The day passes and the moon shines her pale glow in the twilight. The sun’s departure means that no labor can be done unless one is willing to burn valuable wood, a candle stick, or oil. Ligaya packs her things, and Maalwan looks forward to working with her tomorrow.
Ligaya asks, “Do you believe our treatment will work? Bano is a family friend, so I sincerely wish the spirit would leave his household.”
“Our treatment dispelled its magic, but I could not control it. So I requested it to depart.”
“What if the spirit refuses to leave? His family will remain unwell.”
“Did you see that white butterfly? That is an anito, an ancestor spirit of Bano’s family that came to take Mayumi away, and it inadvertently brought sickness to the whole household. But I could not command the anito to depart because guiding people to the underworld is its nature.”
“Then what is the point of being a babaylan? We cannot do anything. Is this any different from sitting at home doing nothing?” Ligaya sucks her lips, silencing herself to avoid offending her teacher.
Maalwan smiles. She is unhurt since she has always been aware of the limitations of a babaylan’s power. “You are a noble healer if you wish to cure humanity from death. But I warn you, no one can defy nature, and the spirits will not listen to someone who tries.”
Ligaya returns a grin. She speaks slowly, testing what she can say without offending her teacher, “The Rajah controls Nilad through his warriors. My father and husband control their slaves by binding their hands. How can babaylans make the spirits serve us if we cannot control them? Who will listen to us and how can we save people if we are so powerless?”
The answer comes effortlessly to Maalwan. Whether this is because of her studies or the spirits enlightening her, she does not know. “Have you heard that in the mountain, tribes, they have no chieftains? Instead, they have a council of women and men. No one is forced to obey, yet the tribe follows the council because they speak the truth. Similarly, a babaylan has no noble rank – we are laborers who perform rituals to earn money. Our knowledge and honesty are why the villagers listen.”
“They listen, but they can disobey,” Ligaya blurts out before covering her lips. She is eager yet respectful, the qualities of a good babaylan apprentice.
“We cannot command a person to stop eating rice as much as command the sambong plant to transform into a palm tree – no one can change something’s nature. However, you may convince that person to sow rice so that she or he will have more to harvest. To the sambong plant, we commend it to heal sickness. By attaining knowledge of humans and spirits, we can convince them to act in beneficial ways that align with their nature. Our role is not to defy nature but to exist in harmony with it. Therefore, we cannot stop our friends from dying. But the spirits will help us postpone their deaths, ease their suffering, and assure them of an afterlife. We allow our people to live well while accepting death.”
Ligaya takes a deep breath. “So, if I study and advise others in a way that aligns with their nature, even the Rajah and the spirits will heed my counsel? That sounds difficult. I do not know if I can do it.”
“I will stay here with you until you are confident.”
Another flying insect with white wings perches on the windowsill. During the daytime, an anito can manifest itself as a butterfly, and at night, it becomes a moth.
Maalwan coughs, nearly falling when Ligaya catches and supports her. Ligaya boils ginger tea for her teacher’s cough. Now holding a warm cup each, the two women stare at the many shining spirits – the moon, her star children, and the clusters of fireflies emerging from the garden.
Maalwan recalls when her mother trained her to become a babaylan. She denied the courtships of infatuated young men to have more time to practice. When she reached her twenties, her renowned healing skill earned her a high bridal price that her suitors could not afford. Older men offered large dowries, but Maalwan was too proud to become someone’s second or third wife. When she reached the overripe age of forty, she retained her prestige but had no husband or daughter.
As Ligaya departs to return to her family’s manor, Maalwan prays to the spirits whose lights surround the babaylan’s house. “Nature and ancestor spirits who watch over me, lend me more time to pass down the ancient knowledge as every mother before me has passed down to her daughter.”
The moth glides into the night. Maalwan prophesizes that when she finishes passing down the ancient knowledge and her body has withered, she will behold a white-winged insect again.
