I visited a shaman in the mountain village San Antonio on the small island of Siquijor inn the Philippines.
A shaman, also called a witch doctor, uses magic, potions, herbs, etc. to dispell bad spirits, illnesses, and the like. From a western point of view, a shaman works by the power of suggestion. If you really want something to happen, sometimes your mind can will it so. Or at least form connections that may or may not otherwise be there. This is also known as the placebo effect. Please note, I have done absolutely zero research on the topic- these are pure guesses.
I wrote about how I found the shaman here. The shaman's headquarters was a house with cats, dogs, chickens, and ducks running around in the front "yard" (dirt), as well as a few men and women. It looked like they had just finished lunch. There were signs hanging on the gate advertising medicines and healings. The old man who had brought Parker and I here led us inside.
The shaman was a woman of about forty years old. She looked pretty plain, really. Nothing about her hair, face, or dress screamed "Witch doctor!" Neither Parker nor I really knew what to expect from this place. All we knew was Siquijor was famous for the mountain shamans. The woman turned to Parker and asked him what he wanted.
Parker replied, "Well, tell me what you do." The woman asked if he would like her to rid the bad spirits from his soul, and Parker said, "Yeah, get those bad spirits outta me."
She dragged a chair to the middle of the room and had Parker sit down. My experience was nearly identical to Parker's, so I am just going to describe mine from here.
I sat down in the chair and the shaman wrapped a blanket around me so only my head was uncovered. Mind you, it was already 30 degrees C (86 F). She placed a candle under the chair and lit it, allowing the smoke to travel up the blanket and into my face. It wasn't unbearable or even uncomfortable to breathe in the smoke. The woman then massaged my scalp and face. This was uncomfortable. She rubbed my head to the point that I squirmed in pain. She was giving me a headache. Just when I was about to ask her to take it easy, she moved from my head to my arms. The shaman rubbed and yanked on my arms, then on my legs, feet, and back. All the while she was working coconut oil into my skin and hair. She muttered a few undiscernable words, then took off the blanket and asked if I drank tea.
The woman left the room and came back with two steaming mugs of tea for Parker and me. The tea was good, but the water still boiling and I burned my tongue. Parker and I sat for a few minutes in an awkward silence. I didn't feel any different and I could tell Parker didn't either. Maybe a little sticky from the oils. While we sipped our tea the shaman's young son sat on her lap and played a game on a mobile phone. Every once in a while the woman would shoo a duck with a lame bill out of the room. As we finished our tea the woman warned us not to shower for twenty-four hours. It had been a while since I felt as gross and dirty as I did now. As much as I wanted to believe in the powers of the shaman, I wanted to feel clean even more. We paid the shaman with a donation and made our way back to our guest house.
I showered that evening and so did Parker. I felt a little guilty going against my word to the Filipina witch doctor. I also hoped I wasn't summoning a curse by letting the cool water cleanse me of the day's sweat and oils, but I was willing to take the risk. So far as I can tell no bad spirits have taken up residence in my soul, but you can never be too sure I suppose.
A shaman, also called a witch doctor, uses magic, potions, herbs, etc. to dispell bad spirits, illnesses, and the like. From a western point of view, a shaman works by the power of suggestion. If you really want something to happen, sometimes your mind can will it so. Or at least form connections that may or may not otherwise be there. This is also known as the placebo effect. Please note, I have done absolutely zero research on the topic- these are pure guesses.
I wrote about how I found the shaman here. The shaman's headquarters was a house with cats, dogs, chickens, and ducks running around in the front "yard" (dirt), as well as a few men and women. It looked like they had just finished lunch. There were signs hanging on the gate advertising medicines and healings. The old man who had brought Parker and I here led us inside.
The shaman was a woman of about forty years old. She looked pretty plain, really. Nothing about her hair, face, or dress screamed "Witch doctor!" Neither Parker nor I really knew what to expect from this place. All we knew was Siquijor was famous for the mountain shamans. The woman turned to Parker and asked him what he wanted.
Parker replied, "Well, tell me what you do." The woman asked if he would like her to rid the bad spirits from his soul, and Parker said, "Yeah, get those bad spirits outta me."
She dragged a chair to the middle of the room and had Parker sit down. My experience was nearly identical to Parker's, so I am just going to describe mine from here.
I sat down in the chair and the shaman wrapped a blanket around me so only my head was uncovered. Mind you, it was already 30 degrees C (86 F). She placed a candle under the chair and lit it, allowing the smoke to travel up the blanket and into my face. It wasn't unbearable or even uncomfortable to breathe in the smoke. The woman then massaged my scalp and face. This was uncomfortable. She rubbed my head to the point that I squirmed in pain. She was giving me a headache. Just when I was about to ask her to take it easy, she moved from my head to my arms. The shaman rubbed and yanked on my arms, then on my legs, feet, and back. All the while she was working coconut oil into my skin and hair. She muttered a few undiscernable words, then took off the blanket and asked if I drank tea.
The woman left the room and came back with two steaming mugs of tea for Parker and me. The tea was good, but the water still boiling and I burned my tongue. Parker and I sat for a few minutes in an awkward silence. I didn't feel any different and I could tell Parker didn't either. Maybe a little sticky from the oils. While we sipped our tea the shaman's young son sat on her lap and played a game on a mobile phone. Every once in a while the woman would shoo a duck with a lame bill out of the room. As we finished our tea the woman warned us not to shower for twenty-four hours. It had been a while since I felt as gross and dirty as I did now. As much as I wanted to believe in the powers of the shaman, I wanted to feel clean even more. We paid the shaman with a donation and made our way back to our guest house.
I showered that evening and so did Parker. I felt a little guilty going against my word to the Filipina witch doctor. I also hoped I wasn't summoning a curse by letting the cool water cleanse me of the day's sweat and oils, but I was willing to take the risk. So far as I can tell no bad spirits have taken up residence in my soul, but you can never be too sure I suppose.
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| View from mountains in Siquijor, Philippines |
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