The long wait for the prized 3 dots: A personal journey to Apo Whang Od's 'batok' art | ABS-CBN

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The long wait for the prized 3 dots: A personal journey to Apo Whang Od's 'batok' art

The long wait for the prized 3 dots: A personal journey to Apo Whang Od's 'batok' art

Jervis Manahan,

ABS-CBN News

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I came to Buscalan wanting a tattoo, but I went home bringing with me so much more. Courtesy of Jervis Manahan, ABS-CBN News
I came to Buscalan wanting a tattoo, but I went home bringing with me so much more. Courtesy of Jervis Manahan, ABS-CBN News

MANILA -- The mountains of Cordilleras is a territory I have explored quite well. I have done spelunking in the caves of Sagada multiple times. I have basked in the glory of Mount Pulag's sea of clouds at least three times. I hiked in Batad and swam in its almost icy Tappiya Falls twice. And I can make an entire album of all my photos at the Banaue Rice Terraces.

During my younger years, the mountains of Cordillera have always been my recluse from the harsh world. But there was one destination I never got to visit: Buscalan, Kalinga.

When the craze of coloring personal Philippine travel maps became an overnight internet sensation a few months ago, I realized that there were only two provinces in Luzon left I've yet to visit: Abra and Kalinga.

Coincidentally, around that time, Vogue magazine released their "Next of Skin" cover. The universe is pointing to it: it was time to visit Kalinga and the woman that put the province on the map, Apo Whang Od.

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A lot of stories have been written about Apo Whang Od: her art, the tradition of pambabatok, and her rise to global fame. So today, I'm telling you a story close to my heart, my own encounter with her.

THE TRIP

The remote town of Buscalan, Apo Whang Od's hometown, is around 420 kilometers away from Metro Manila. As a solo traveler, the most efficient and practical way to reach it is through joiner trips. I sat in a van with a dozen other strangers, all wanting the chance to meet the famed mambabatok– the oldest in her generation.

With multiple stopovers along the way, it took us a total of 15 hours from Manila to reach the jumpoff point in Tinglayan. The travel time was so long that if we were on a plane, we would have been already in Europe. We passed through very dangerous cliffs and drove through landslide-prone areas.

At some point, we were above the clouds. It was a seemingly endless zigzag road without the slightest hint of phone signal. For someone often visiting the Cordilleras, this is already a familiar scenery. But Buscalan was farther than all the mountainous destinations I have ever visited.

A tinge of excitement went down my spine when we drove past the signage that read: "Welcome Whang Od Buscalan Tattoo Village!" Finally, we were close.

We were told to anticipate an influx of travelers since we visited on a weekend. True enough, when we arrived, dozens of vans were already at the jumpoff point.

Buscalan was closed for two years during the height of the pandemic, so revenge travel is very evident. There's only a few traces of pandemic-related restrictions: travelers only needed to fill some health and tourism forms and they're good to go.

We met our local guides, Racquel and Rebecca. Instead of porters, there were zipline-like structures that transported heavy bags from the jumpoff point to the community. From there, visitors would need to hike past rice fields and a paved staircase that led to the community. Depending on endurance, it would take an average person around 40 minutes to an hour to reach the top. Photos of Whang Od welcomed all travelers. Her face is etched almost everywhere, from tarpaulins and photos and the souvenirs in the shops that lined the way.

There were no fancy hotels in Buscalan, only homes made of concrete built almost adjacent to each other. It's as if the people built their houses from the walls of their neighbors, a testament to how closely knit the community was.

As tourism boomed, owing to Whang Od's fame in popular culture, locals opened their houses for homestays. Each house was filled to the brim.

Our local guides led us to our respective homestays. It didn't take long until we walked past a house with a queue of visitors seated in front of it.

There she was, Apo Whang Od, sitting on a low stool, intently tattooing a visitor while everyone watched. It was very ceremonial, everyone eagerly waited for their turn to have what is probably the most meaningful tattoo of their lives.

BUSCALAN

I have always wanted to visit Buscalan, as early as 2012, long before I started travelling solo. I first heard her name on a pitching session for the news magazine program I worked for back then. Apo Whang Od has been tattooing since she was 15, but only rose to stardom in the last 15 years, after being featured on a documentary that aired on Discovery Channel.

Her prized three-dot tattoo may look simple, but it has a very rich history. Apo Whang Od used to do tattoos for headhunters and warriors and the women of their Butbut tribe, and this practice was almost lost to colonialism. Her practice saved that tradition and art, but instead of tattooing warriors, she shared a piece of their culture to local and foreign travelers, some coming from across opposite parts the globe.

But it wasn't easy getting the three dots. The queue was so long, as we were already the 31st group to arrive. Each group has van-loads of visitors. Some travelers try to queue as early as 2 a.m. to ensure they get their turn.

With that, our local guides tempered our expectations. There is no certainty that we would get her signature tattoo. And even if we did, it would take us many hours of waiting in long lines.

In Buscalan, it's already a familiar story that Whang Od has passed the tradition of traditional tattooing to two of her bloodline relatives: Grace Palicas and Elyang Wigan. Her signature three dots symbolized the three generations of mambabatoks. Because of the uncertainty, a lot of travelers turn to Grace and Elyang instead to get their most valuable souvenir from the trip.

But we saw something we didn't expect. Aside from Whang Od and her two proteges, there were dozens of other people practicing the art of traditional tattooing. Apo's practice has inspired many young children to continue the art, so that tradition wouldn't die. The community was filled with mambabatoks, that there were people in almost every nook getting it. So I asked our guide, Ate Racquel.

"Ilan na ang mga batang mambabatok dito?"

"Marami, Sir. Baka nasa isang daan."

That is the extent of Apo Whang Od's influence to her community. An entire generation is about to devote their lives to an almost lost art and culture that involved ink, thorns, and bloodied skin.

NEW GENERATION

I met Xycee, a 14-year-old girl from the Butbut tribe who offered her "batok" services. The mambabatoks showed a catalogue of designs, while carrying some soot mixed with water in a coconut husk and a small bamboo stick with a thorn on one end.

Xycee convinced me to get a tattoo.

With no assurance that I could get a session with Apo Whang Od, I agreed.

For someone with a low pain tolerance, I felt nervous getting it. I already have five tattoos done in the conventional method, and this one is surely more painful. I chose a small but beautiful forward-arrow design.

Xycee was methodical, she made an imprint of the pattern first using a stencil from plant twigs, and then started lightly tapping on the thorn with a stick. A hundred taps per minute on my left arm. It didn't take so long, only around 15 minutes, until it was finished. Despite her young age, Xycee tapped on my skin with sharp precision. She said she wants to practice the art for the rest of her life. We both thanked each other after the session.

But I wanted more. I really wanted to meet Apo Whang Od. So after my first tattoo, I went to Apo's house and watched how she inks her visitors one by one. It takes nothing more than five minutes to get a tattoo done, with more photo ops in between. The process is repetitive. Once it's your turn, you'd sit on the prestigious stool, extend the body part you'd want the tat on, and receive the pain you went there for.

DREAM COME TRUE

I patiently waited until sun was down, almost losing hope that I would even get my turn. But when you want something, the universe will conspire. Whang Od decides when to stop, and that day, she stayed a little longer. I was among the handful of last visitors to get inked that day.

The experience was nothing short of surreal. I sat on that prized stool in disbelief that I was, for that moment, beside a woman who saved traditional art from dying. Apo Whang Od was our cultural treasure, a national icon who will be forever be remembered in Philippine history. At 106 years old, she still carried power, strength, and grace.

Apo drew the signature dots first with ink, and then proceeded tapping my forearm with her thorn. Hers was more painful than Xycee's because despite her age, her hands and arms were still strong. She doesn't converse in English or Tagalog so I wasn't able to strike a conversation. There were some assistants who translated our messages for her but she collects the payments herself, and gives change herself. After the brief session, I thanked her, and she smiled back.

I looked at the three dots on my forearm with so much fulfillment and joy. This was a dream come true. This is my seventh tattoo, and probably the last I'd ever get.

I get inked whenever I wanted to remember something in this lifetime, and I have this personal practice of naming my tattoos based on their significance. My first was the Baybayin translation of my name on my left leg, which I called "Simula"; then a pair of dates on each of my shoulder named "Buhay", which is the day I was born; and "Misyon", the day I found out why (I was born). "Bituin", my star sign to remind me that I'm unique and I'm meant for something bigger; and "Pintig", a lifeline with two hearts beating in different times, an ode to my heartbreaks that make me feel alive.

I am naming my sixth tattoo, the forward arrows from Xycee, as "Sulong" -- to remind me that despite challenges, life will always move forward. And my seventh, the ellipsis-looking signature three dots of Whang Od, as "Bukas" -- a play of words of "Bukas" as "tomorrow" and as "open" -- to remind me that the future is open to many possibilities.

I came to Buscalan wanting a tattoo, but I went home bringing with me so much more.

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