Ancestral Shadow: Curse of the Anito

Ancestral Shadow

Curse of the Anito

Isabelle R Duffy

Peterson House Publishing

Copyright © 2023 Caitlin R Peterson

All rights reserved

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The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

Epilogue

Glossary

Prologue

It was a lazy afternoon. I yawned as I stretched out on Lola and Lolo's farmhouse porch, watching the goats munching in the fields. I couldn't help feeling a bit bored; the peacefulness of the Philippines countryside was a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of Blacktown, Sydney, where I lived. My relatives were here, chatting and laughing with one another, but I couldn't seem to shake off my restlessness.

Lola approached me with a warm smile as I sat, fiddling with my phone and scrolling through social media. "Angela, anak, why don't you come with me and help gather some eggs from the chicken coop?" she asked, using the Tagalog word for child.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I wanted to leave the comfort of the porch, but then I decided that some fresh air and physical activity might do me good. Sure, Lola, I'd love to help, I said, rising from my seat.

As we headed towards the chicken coop, Lola told me stories about my mother's childhood on the farm and how different life was back then. I listened intently, fascinated by her tales of hard work and simple living.

Reaching the coop, Lola handed me a basket and showed me how to gently collect the eggs from the nests. As I worked, I noticed how the chickens clucked and scratched around me, seemingly unconcerned by our presence.

It's so peaceful here, Lola, I said, breaking the silence. I wish I could stay here forever and escape the stresses of city life.

Lola chuckled. It's a different kind of life, anak. Here, we work hard for everything we have, but we also have each other, and the beauty of nature to sustain us.

I nodded, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me. Maybe I didn't need the city life's constant stimulation and excitement to be happy. Perhaps all I needed was the simple pleasures of family, nature, and hard work.

Heading back to the farmhouse, I couldn't help but feel grateful for Lola's company and wisdom. She had a way of putting things into perspective and making me see things in a different light.

When we reached the porch, I noticed that my family had gathered around a table, playing a lively game of cards. My cousins were laughing and teasing each other, and I felt guilty for not joining earlier.

Hey guys, mind if I join in? I asked, approaching the table with a smile.

My pinsans welcomed me with open arms, and soon I was caught up in the excitement of the game. As we played, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging and connection with my family that I hadn't felt in a long time.

At that moment, I realised that sometimes, the simplest things in life could bring the greatest joy.

Wow, it's almost 6 o'clock. The sun had already set, casting a warm golden glow over the farm. We should cleanup for dinner, my cousin Miguel reminded us.

I nodded in agreement, and we all made our way to the kitchen, where Lolo and Lola greeted us warmly.

Come, my dears, it's time for dinner, Lolo said as we gathered around them.

As we sat the conversation started on the porch continued to hum around the table.

This adobo is delicious, I exclaimed, taking another bite of the savoury meat.

Lola beamed with pride. Thank you, anak. It's a recipe passed down in our family for generations.

While we ate, my cousin Mia shared stories of her latest adventure, hiking in the mountains. It was so beautiful. You guys should come with me next time, she said, her eyes bright with excitement.

I would love to, but I don't think I could keep up with you, I replied with a laugh.

Don't worry, I'll go at your pace, Mia reassured me.

As the night grew darker, most of my cousins headed home, and Kuya Jose and I retired to our respective rooms. Goodnight, I said, feeling a sense of peace and contentment wash over me.

Goodnight, anak, Lolo and Lola replied in unison.

As I lay in bed, I grew disappointed that my mother hadn't joined me on this trip. She had grown up on this farm, worked hard every day, and dreamed of a better life. When she became a nurse, she seized the opportunity to leave the countryside and make a life for herself in Australia.

There she fell in love with my father, an Australian man. They had me, and I was raised in a world far away from the simple life my mother had left behind.

But now, as I lay in bed in Lola and Lolo's farmhouse, surrounded by the peacefulness of the countryside, I couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging. It was as if a part of me had been missing all these years and had finally been found.

I knew I couldn't stay here forever, but I also knew I would always carry a piece of this place with me. It was a part of my history, culture, and family.

Drifting off to sleep, I thought about how lucky I was to have such a rich heritage and a family that welcomed me with open arms. I vowed to come back and visit Lola and Lolo's farmhouse every chance I got to reconnect with my roots and the simple pleasures of life.

CHAPTER 1

I woke up to the rooster crowing and the faint smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the house. Excited for the new day, I stretched my arms and legs and looked out the window to see the sun rising over the farm.

Dressing quickly, I made my way to the kitchen, where Lola was preparing breakfast. She smiled at me and handed me a cup of coffee. Good morning, anak, she said.

Morning, Lola, I replied, sipping the strong, hot brew.

Lola's warm greeting and the aroma of her cooking made me feel at home. I peered over her shoulder to see what she was preparing and noticed a plate of fried eggs and rice on the stove, with a side of daing‒a dried fish unfamiliar to me. Usually, I would stick to toast and eggs for breakfast, but something about Lola's cooking made me curious.

As I sat down to eat, I hesitated to try the unfamiliar dish, but after taking a bite, I was pleasantly surprised. The salty and savoury flavours of the daing perfectly complemented the eggs and rice.

Thank you, Lola. This is delicious! I said, smiling at her. Her face lit up with pride, and I could tell that cooking for others was truly her passion. Noticing my enthusiasm for her cooking, Lola explained that daing was actually one of my Mum's favourite foods. She told me how my mother used to love sinigang, a sour soup made with tamarind, and adobo, a stew made with chicken or pork and soy sauce. I felt a sense of nostalgia as Lola shared these memories with me. Lola then offered to cook these dishes for me, and I couldn't refuse her tantalising offer. I knew I was in for a treat and was excited to taste the dishes my mother loved so much.

After breakfast, Lola suggested we walk around the farm to see the animals and the crops. I agreed, eager to see more of the place that had become so intriguing to me.

As we walked, Lola pointed out different kinds of plants and trees and told me how they were used. Her knowledge of herbal medicine was impressive, and she told me that her father was a skilled herbolario and babaylan who could heal people with plants and prayers. I listened intently to her stories, fascinated by the idea of using natural remedies to cure illnesses.

However, the conversation took a sad turn when Lola mentioned that Mum had rejected my great-grandfather's offer to train her in the family's healing practices. My great-grandfather had hoped to pass down his knowledge to his granddaughter, but my mother had dismissed it as superstition and refused to learn.

It was strange to think that a whole part of my family's history had been lost because of one person's beliefs. It made me wonder how different my life could have been if she had embraced her heritage and continued the family's legacy. Would I have grown up with a deeper connection to nature and a greater appreciation for the healing powers of plants?

Lola, do you think my mother made the right decision in rejecting my great-grandfather's offer to learn the family's healing practices? I asked, curious about her perspective.

Lola paused for a moment, deep in thought. It's not for me to say, anak. Your mother has her own beliefs and reasons for her choices. We must respect that. But I do think that the knowledge of herbal medicine is important, and it would have been a valuable skill to pass down.

I nodded, understanding Lola's point of view. Do you think it's too late for me to learn? I asked, hopeful.

Of course not, anak. You can start anytime you want, Lola said, her eyes brightening. I have some old books on herbal medicine that I can lend you. And I can teach you how to make some basic remedies too.

I smiled, grateful for Lola's willingness to share her knowledge. Thank you, Lola. I would love to learn from you, I said.

Lola then shared more stories and insights about the healing powers of plants, and I listened intently, eager to learn more. It was a humbling experience to realise how much wisdom and knowledge my family had accumulated over the years, and I felt a new found appreciation for my cultural heritage.

Lola led me to the backyard and pointed to different plants while sharing their healing properties. She showed me lagundi, used to relieve cough and asthma, and sambong, a diuretic used to treat kidney stones. She also introduced me to tsaang gubat, used to treat stomachaches, and niyog-niyogan, a laxative that helps expel intestinal worms.

Lola pointed out Yerba Buena, known to relieve headaches and muscle pain, and bayabas, used to treat diarrhoea and dysentery. She also showed me akapulko, used to treat fungal skin infections and ringworm, and Banaba, known to treat diabetes and high blood pressure.

Listening to Lola's knowledge of herbal medicine was fascinating. I couldn't believe how many different plants had healing properties. It was clear that her expertise had been passed down from generation to generation. It was a shame that my family's legacy in herbal medicine had not been continued.

As we continued our walk around the farm, Lola shared more stories about our ancestors and their healing abilities. She told me that they were known to be influential babaylans during the old times and that people from different barangays would come to them to avail of their services.

That's amazing, Lola, I said. How were they able to heal any kind of sickness?

Lola smiled and explained, Our ancestors believed that their powers came from the spirits of the land and the sea. They had a deep connection with nature and knew how to use plants and herbs to cure illnesses. They also communicated with the spirits and asked for help healing people.

I was intrigued by this concept. Where did their powers come from?

Lola paused momentarily before answering, "Our ancestors believed that their powers came from an Anito, an ancient God that the people worshipped before the Spaniards came and replaced our religion with Catholicism. They believed the anito had given them the power to heal and protect their communities."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was a fascinating glimpse into a part of our history I had never known. Do you still believe in the power of the anito, Lola? I asked.

Lola smiled gently and said, "I may not worship Anito anymore, but I still believe in the power of nature and the healing properties of plants. Our ancestors may have believed in different gods and goddesses, but their connection to nature and the spirits allowed them to heal people in a way that modern medicine sometimes cannot.

Being a respected herbolario and babaylan, my father knew how to communicate with the spirits and ask for their help healing people," she said.

Did he use any special rituals or ceremonies to heal people? I asked.

Yes, Lola replied. "He would perform a ritual called pag-anito where he would offer food and other gifts to the spirits in exchange for their help in healing. They also believed in the power of prayer and would often recite chants and incantations to help ease a person's suffering."

Intrigued, I asked her what an anito looked like. She seemed to light up, remembering something suddenly. Follow me, she said. I'll show you something.

Curious, I followed Lola back to the house. Once inside, she went straight to her and Lolo's room and emerged with something wrapped in an old cloth.

She unwrapped it carefully, revealing a wooden statue that looked ancient. The figure was small, about the size of a small soft drink bottle and intricately carved. It had a fierce expression and a gaping mouth. Its body was adorned with symbols and patterns that I couldn't make out.

This is the anito, Lola said, holding the statue