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The Day of the Manangs

II.   Lukayo

 

 

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                           Censors suspend “i-Witness” TV show for featuring the ‘Lukayo’ women                             of Kalayaan, Laguna, who perform a nearly 200-year old ritual that                                   consists of playfully parading and displaying wooden phalluses during

                          weddings.

                                                                                          from a PCIJ (Philippine Center for

                                                                                          Investigative Journalism) report

 

                           “Gee, those manangs were cool!”

                                                                                          Teenager

 

 

Gee, our foremothers were cool.

They made it fun, they made it easy.

They showed us what you and I have, 

Same old thing among birds and bees.

 

Those were dildos! Those were dildos!

Cried the lawyer from MTRCB;

Forgive them, Father, said the Padre,

For their symbols of immorality.

 

And our Manangs skipped and hopped

As they’ve always done—when they were

Healing babaylan, voluptuous babayi,

And the sacred could be danced, aiee, aiee!

 

Those were dildos! Those were dildos!

The outsize dongs could leave the kids confused!

This old tradition should be banned,

The Lukayo are different from you and me!

 

And our Manangs skipped and hopped

From across the centuries, before 

tadek and tarok became the baile,

And the sacred could be danced, aiee, aiee!

 

Sorry, no excuses, not even a documentary,

You can’t show it on the TV—

What comes from deep in our soul

Is a threat to public equanimity.

 

And our Manangs skipped and hopped,

Of life or love they were not scared:

Fertilize, fertilize, aiee, aiee!

The sacred can be danced, aiee, aiee!

 

July 31, 2006

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III.   Manananggál

 

 

No matter her fear of flying,

She left her other half 

In the home country:

 

The feel of the ground

Was what she missed. All is

Numbness below the waist.

 

How strange that the need

To feed whom she loved 

Should sever her from her roots.

 

O to hear them speak

Mamay… Manang…  Her tongue

Longs for familiar words, 

 

Reaches across the wires,

The shoreless ocean

Of this foreign midnight.

 

O to touch again the sod

With naked sole, she would

Let her hair down, suck entrails!

 

And even that other half—

Lover of roosters, gin-besotted 

Fool—would be easier to love,

 

And she’d soon give up her wings.

 

July 27, 2006

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