She could not sleep for hours on end.
The fever keeps returning and grandma is helpless, but constantly caresses her with a damp towel. Hours earlier she is jolly playing with her cousins and sharing her toys. As dusk neared, the fever set in. She moaned and lost her appetite.
The medicines are far out of reach. She is at the edge of the barrio in the Cordillera outback. Combatting the creeping dehydrating effect of the fever, she is only given water for sustenance.
Lighting the hearth
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Lighting a matchstick in the dead of the night, a piece of pine resin wood, emits a fiery glow. Slowly, making bright the dark ashen kitchen, the shadows dance in the dark. Subsequently, the old man’s hands lit the hearth. The kitchen floors thunder as he hastily hacked on a plank of pine resin wood to split it into manageable pieces.
Without speaking a word, he crosses the living room and creakily opens his treasure trove. A room reserved for his priceless possessions. Moreover, there are rice wine jars, a bead box wrapped in a woven belt bag, an old wooden trunk, g-strings, and a faded barong tagalog. Dangling in the corner are two gongs, and a hollowed-out log to store etag neatly placed at the side. He takes out his spear, a relic of the past handed down from his ancestors.
The preparation
Waking up his two grandsons, he prepares his spear, wiping it with cloth from its bottom tip to the blade. Getting up in the dead of the night; astonished and not knowing what to expect; sleepiness again begin to take over.
Every once in a while, the old man talks to them to keep them up to their senses. He cut a bamboo strip with his knife, cleaned it, and tied knots on each end. He pierces a piece of preserved meat (etag) that he earlier sliced hanging from above the hearth, then tying it to the blade of his spear. Before turning back, he ties a dried tobacco into the handle of the spear.
Up we go boys, he cajoles his grandsons. Leading the way, he holds a torch of resin wood in his left hand and to the right his spear. We make a procession out of the house, as if ready to do battle.
The ritual
At a designated spot and without warning, the old man let out a loud cry. Come back home, he begs. Do not follow the wishes of the unknown, come back where we are waiting for you, he implores. He pinned his spear into the ground with a heavy thrust, the etag dangling at the blade, facing the mountains.
Summoning us back home, the old man rolls his tobacco as he takes his seat, explaining what just transpired. It’s a ritual, he says. It is a part of our tradition, that when somebody is being invited into the other world. Accordingly, it is our duty to summon their spirit back to return to the world of the living.
Do not be afraid nor be ashamed of it, it has always been the way of our ancestors. Your sister will feel better as we call her back home.
The healing
So it was. Our sister, healthy as before, ever playful, and the fever but all gone, woke up the following day with no signs of illness.
Puzzling.
An event that still needs answers to this day. Recalling that etag dangling by the blade; it was left there for the whole day; makes me shiver and grope for an explanation.
Etag
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Noticeably, etag or inasin plays an important role in this ritual. Etag is ever present in Iyapplai and Bontok rituals. The culinary importance is only secondary. With its commercialization, etag has become a part of the culinary trends exposed nowadays.
As a suggestion, conducting in-depth research needs to be done on the traditional uses of this preserved meat. One of the major reasons, why it is being made in the first place.
Never was it the intent of Igorots to purposely let pork rot to make it more delicious. Maggots are not a part of the diet. At most, this is another part of entertainment, an exploitation of our culture, and misinformation. Another leaf added to the derogatory records of Igorots and their culture.
That episode still resonates. It will remain a mystery, its significance a part of history and a better understanding of our traditions. Gone are our ancestors who have knowledge of the old ways. Gone are they who have preserved these traditions.
The Etag Festival
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We, the younger generation, has but a snippet of information about such. Keeping it intact in our memory. Sharing it to those who care.
In celebrating an annual festival for the propagation and proper understanding of the etag culture, the municipality of Sagada showcases their Etag Festival in the first week of February. Subsequently, they are preserving this heritage that every Igorot has in his psyche.
In conclusion, it is understanding more the relevance of etag in their culture.
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