Growing up with the general notion that getting inked is equated to deviance (in a negative way), my choice to finally have one felt rebellious to some degree but powerfully rewarding to some extent. Truthfully, this is something I very well thought of and heavily planned on getting. It was just a matter of time & reason, I patiently waited for. And it was winning over that certain personal warfare serving as the perfect cause to finally push this thing that has long been overdue in my cart.
The decision to finally take the mark stemmed from that fateful
May morning when that living feeling
somehow became a foreign thing to me. Felt there was a need for some tweaking
from the usual and expected turnout of daily events in my life. Internet
to the rescue, I was able to write down several leads to that much-coveted escape. After several attempts of self-deliberation, I made up my mind to
finally visit Tinglayan, where the living legend Apo Whang-od built an empire.
Plans were made and laid, and the next day, found myself traveling northward
on those dangerous northern mountain roads. Fast forward, I was going
for that exhausting trek on those up-then-down-and-up-again trails to Buscalan
heavily gasping for breath.
It was a pity I had to go through that pilgrimage during those days when the
trails leading to the village were currently being fixed. I don’t have many
recollections during the trek as they were gone much in a way dreams do in the
seconds after waking up but I could remember clearly how much sweat I had
to squeeze out of my epidermis to survive the whole hike. I was very sedentary
in the past months which explains my hard time. Took around an hour to wrap up the
entire hike and the view from afar was a sure good eye treat upon reaching the
welcome site.
The way of life in Buscalan is a picture of
simplicity and authenticity. There’s a humble school elegantly sitting atop the
steep hill, families finely resting in their humble abodes, and friendly herds
of hogs roaming around. At the backdrop were postcard-worthy subjects courtesy
of the extra green rice paddies, mountain slopes in perfect curves, narrow
trails slithering across the mountainsides, and breathtaking views of deep ravines,
among other greeny weedy things (where there is
smoke, there’s someone smoking).
Reaching the village was a challenge in itself and I didn’t intend to put all
those efforts to naught by not getting the ultimate goal. I opted for the
more practical, less painful way of getting myself the traditional Buscalan
tattoo – have the arduous yet more precise work done by a younger artist then
have it authenticated by Whang-od’s signature three-dot tat later. I think this
is the more convenient choice given Whang-Od’s heavy hands and the terrifyingly
mad tales on how she executes her work in recent times ~ carino brutal.
After all, tattoos done by other Buscalan artists shouldn’t be valued less. We’ll never know, among them is another national treasure in the
making.
On picking the design, I opted for something relevant, that will for-life remind me of that 2017 career milestone I can’t
get over with, enough. My initial choice was a sun, but a snake,
for health and protection, is what I needed more during that time.
A lime thorn attached to gisi, a
soot-sweet potato-water mixture in a coconut bowl, and a bamboo hammer, were all
needed for the deed to proceed. I sat on a block of wood and the session went
for more than an hour of continuous pricks and pain. The process was
straightforward, though unhygienic if we go strict by the supposed proper way
of doing it – could still remember the terror and horror of me having prayed
much hard to the mountain gods not to acquire any disease transmutable by
blood. Deep red droplets dripped out of my wounds in unison with the soot
forced to enter my very flesh. It’s casually morbid to think but intensely
satisfying to watch. Little by little, that snake was etched permanently on my
skin.
The next day was Whang-Od’s turn to inflict that
sweet, honorable pain on me. A prior arrangement for a tattoo session with her
is a requirement. Everyone needs to literally and imaginative-ly fall in line
through a queue system devised by the very people who don’t follow their own
rules. The process was very disorganized to an extent that everyone and
everything were in complete disarray as people throw shades at each other due
to the problematic scheme. It's funny how people couldn’t just let things be, but I
could not care anymore enough. The more important part was, I got my
much-coveted stain-for-a-lifetime, at the end of the day.
Getting a tattoo is just another of those~ things that are just a matter of
choice. The more important thing though is that we outlive such scars we
choose.
