Pikpik

The first time I arrived in Malita, I felt dizzy from traveling. The winding road was worse than Kennon Road, particularly the way to Barangay Kidapalong.

Before I went on the trip, my Lola Lumanda told me to watch my guard because there were a lot of people who tap you in Malita.

“If someone taps you, someone who does pikpik, tap them back so you won’t get hexed or poisoned,” Lola Lumanda had told me.

I remembered what a teacher I knew from Barangay Lacaron had said. There were also a lot of those who did pikpik and poisoning in Lacaron, which was why one shouldn’t go around drinking or eating anything, especially if one didn’t know where the food had come from.

The teacher also said that those who did pikpik searched for any victim, especially those whom they didn’t know. They would tap you even if you didn’t do a thing to them. They grew weak if they were not able to tap anyone or cause trouble on others. Like some kind of evil power.

Since I was supposedly a millennial, I didn’t believe in pikpik, which many believed brought poison and harm on the body.

Because of my work as a teacher, I was able to reach Malita, in search of a job. It wasn’t the time to be picky. The trip from Matanao to Malita took about two hours. I didn’t know anyone or have any relations in that place, but with prayers, I went about charging into the unfamiliar city south of our province.

“Stop at the Warehouse, then get off. Hop on a payong-payong tricycle. Fare is only eight pesos all the way to SPAMAST,” the HR had said to me.

Because I was a single woman who had no serious responsibilities, I eagerly took the chance to look for opportunities in Malita. Back then, Malita had been part of Davao del Sur, but since many agreed to divide the province, the town became part of Davao Occidental.

As I was traveling to Malita, I saw that the town was abundant mostly with coconut trees, bananas, and mango trees. I felt like I had turned a hundred curves getting to town. As the van turned and meandered, I also felt as though my insides were swirling. All I could see was hills and the wilderness. There were a few houses scattered along the road. Most of these homes were bamboo huts with zinc roofs.

▴▴▴

Before you reached Poblacion, you’d pass by children and adults carrying jugs of water. You’d know immediately you were arriving at a barangay because there were many signs that said you are now entering barangay tubalan or barangay lacaron or perhaps, barangay kidapalong.

Upon arriving in Malita, I was relieved to have surpassed the long, snaking roads. But I also felt some fear, because even though I didn’t really believe it, I’d been told there were those who did pikpik. That was why I was very watchful of what was around me.

When I hopped on a payong-payong, I told the driver where I was headed.

“You’re new here, Ma’am?” the driver asked. I nodded and pulled out my pink coin purse so I could pay. When I reached the school, I was greeted by joyous and smiling faces.

As my classes began and I got to know my students, I was amused by their questions. Since I was from Matanao, they were thinking that there were a lot of “natives” in our town who poisoned other people, who did pikpik.

They also didn’t believe I had Blaan blood because they said I spoke good English. I laughed, a bit offended. They thought “natives” couldn’t speak English?

I also asked them if it was true that there were those who did pikpik in Malita. They told me there were none.

In return, they asked if it was true that people performed dark magic and did pikpik in Matanao. My eyes widened and I quickly denied the accusation. I was amused thinking about the various ways people from other places peddled false beliefs and spoke evil of other towns, like the often-heard story about Siquijor as the land of ghouls.

I felt the warmth and the honesty of the people of Malita. Once when I dropped my cellular phone somewhere, I called the number and was surprised to find out that it had been left at the school’s guard house by a student who had found the phone.

Because of its people and natural beauty, I quickly fell in love with Malita. The sea struck a salty breeze upon the shorelines. The hot weather didn’t sting the skin.

Months passed, then I found myself vomiting suddenly. As if a hand was wringing the insides of my stomach. My body was racked with chills, my knees quaking. My heart was racing. My roommates took care of me and rubbed Efficascent camphor oil on my belly and forehead. I vomited and vomited, until there was blood in my vomit. There was also something black, green, and brown in my barf.

One of my roommates said, “Ma’am, we need to bring you to the district hospital because your condition is not good.”

I couldn’t remember my response. I woke up with dextrose attached to my arm. I was in a hospital and there was no one in the room with me. I wanted to speak, I wanted to get up and walk, but I could only lift my eyes.

I heard voices outside my room. When they got in, I saw first my Lola Lumanda whose face was deeply worried. She was crying. Beside her was an old man I didn’t know.

Since I couldn’t really move, my eyes squinting, my grandmother cried even more.

“Your granddaughter has been cursed, Nang,” Lola’s companion said.

“This child really, so hardheaded. Won’t listen to you. I told her not to let her guard down,” Lola said as she held my hand.

I couldn’t see what Lola’s companion had brought, but I could hear clearly what he said.

“A man had done pikpik on her. Maybe she offended him, and he held a grudge on her. We have to counter the curse and send it back to him.”

I didn’t quite understand what happened next, but when I woke up again, I could already move my body, and I felt lighter. I wasn’t in Malita anymore because they had brought me to the Dominican Hospital in Digos.

I was healed. My grandmother didn’t speak again about what had really happened to me. My medical certificate said that I had food poisoning. My grandmother didn’t want me to go back to Malita. She asked me to resign from my job. My students sent me text messages, asking how I was.

I thought very hard about what had happened before I started vomiting. I couldn’t recall any person I had offended. Who was this resentful man I had supposedly hurt? No matter how hard I thought, I couldn’t remember anything.

What I remembered was that a student came to me. He asked me to let him pass even though he hadn’t been attending class.

Because his grandmother had just died, I felt sorry for him so I told him that I’d require a school project. He was happy with my response and when he left, he tapped my shoulder.