Inked To Not Be Forgotten!

After months of not writing I finally wrote with pen and paper. Hahaha. There is a power outage in our village that started 6 in the morning. I should’ve written in my phone but I don’t like to because it is tiny and it’s hard to type a lot there. Instead, I wrote manually.

It’s almost four in the afternoon and I am craving for coffee. I made an instant one since I can not brew because the power is still out. And also because I am too lazy to brew in a kettle.

Now I am sitting outside the small balcony of the stairs leading out the second floor of the house to the front yard. In front of me is a view of the nearby village. No sun visible since the sky’s covered with thick gray clouds. It is a peaceful afternoon, until the thunder began to rumble while it echoes through the sky. It stopped and I can hear the buzzing of chainsaw from I do not know where because it just echoes though our place, a bowl- like village situated in the mountains. Another minute and it stopped also.

During these peaceful times that I am thinking of plans to do. One of which is getting a tattoo. I am always thinking twice about getting one. One reason is that because my mother won’t like it if she sees it. Another thing is, will I not regret getting one? But I also have a fascination with tattoos now. So, it really is one of my bucket list. When? That I am still thinking. Haha.

I was merely an elementary kid, when the older children talked about tattoos and how to do it. Curious as a cat, I tried what they told me. I put on my arm a small amount of wet ash, then I prick the area repeatedly with the sharp thorn of an orange or that of the lemon tree. Hahaha. I couldn’t remember the result after because it was painful and it bled and so I thought that was just it. Now there is a visible tad dot of tattoo on my arm. Hahaha. It would be really great if I made a big one or had followed a design, but maybe I did not because it was painful. Haha. That was forgotten, until I remembered it today.

And when I was in my teenage years, I had some thoughts about it as the skin being dirty. But maybe, because those tattoos were just put in random, or obviously just inked on a whim. And have no definite reason that I found it as that. Or maybe because of how the TV shows and people around me reacted to it. But as I grew up, I now realized it was an art, it’s just that it was painted on our skin. I have acquaintances that has tattoos on their skin, and they have reasons for that. One got her kids picture inked on her back, other ones are their names. Oh, my dad also had his initials tattooed under a big scar on his arm. I like it that there are reasons behind it. Not just any random ones, just to have the so called trend.

Here in our village, a lot of elders has tattoos on the arms and legs. They’re of traditional designs, mainly abstract, linear or geometric in form. It is a symbolic mark; and what it means depends on the design of the tattoos. It maybe because of the loss of loved ones, parents that has no children, a mark of bravery, the mark of the rich and the like, or an art decoration for the body.

I asked my father about those tattoos of the female elders who had been inked. And he said most had one or more children that died. It is maybe to stop the deaths of another, or to bring another child to the world. My father wasn’t sure about his theory so he said I should go ask the elders but I am on a sick mode, so I wasn’t able to. My paternal grandmother also has tattoos, though. She lost three children when they were still babies, so if that might be the reason for her tattoos, then it’s real. I can’t ask her now since she has poor memory and a drifting one at that.

Oh, speaking of tattoos, we are about 20 kilometers away by road from Buscalan, Tinglayan, Kalinga. The residence of the famous Apo Whang-od, the “last” and oldest mambabatok or tattoo artist in the northern regions of the Philippines. Its just less than an hour drive, from the village. And I am excited to get a tattoo from her. Maybe one of these days, if one of these days still exist in my time, and hers.

These traditional arts, which was prevailing even during the olden times, were now being lost. Its importance in the community and how it’s tied with the culture and traditions of the people.

I no longer see or hear the older people getting tattooed nowadays here in our village. Will there come a time that these traditions cease to exist? Will modernity take over our ancient customs and practices?

I can’t. The identity inked in our veins will not be forgotten. It should not.

That it should have the right to be inked on paper, right?

Her Friday musings!+_+

Hey there again! Thank you for reading!+_+