Seeking Miracles

I have a physical condition I acquired when I was a child. My grandmother, whom we called Nanay, was a devout Catholic and maintained several altars in our home. The one near her bed she considered the most sacred as the Santo Nino reportedly cries. I do remember that the Santo had tearstains on its cheek and Nanay's uniformed church ladies would crowd around the Santo and whisper and touch the relic's face.

Of course, since I am the "afflicted one," Nanay made it her mission to seek the miracle that would heal me. Every Sunday for years, Nanay would seek out miracle workers that claim to be possessed by Jesus, Sto. Nino, Mama Mary and other religious personalities. I can still picture a house in far-flung Novaliches that is similar to ours, with the requisite spotted marble floors and heavy wooden furniture. I remember the heat from a crowd of people surrounding a lady who was seated on a short gallinera and the yellow lights pricking the somber living room. People would whisper and chitchat, waiting for the miraculous possession. After a couple of minutes, there was a hush and the gallinera lady dropped off as if she fell asleep, then righted her head and with her eyes still closed, spoke in a teeny voice. This was her schtick (for lack of a better word), which was supposed to be a Sto. Nino possession. Her assistants would bring out glasses of water that she'd whisper to and blow on then give to the lucky few who'd drink the 'consecrated' water (I had my fill of that water.)

Later on, there was this man who moved to our neighborhood, about 2 blocks away from our house who claimed that he gets possessed by Jesus every night at 10pm. Nanay and my dad would bring me to that wooden house with wide windows and bare cement floors at J.M. Basa street as often as 2-3 times a week. As always, there is a crowd every night, and we'd sit on crude wooden benches while we wait for the 'possession' to happen. He claimed to diagnose diseases while in a trance and x-ray a person with his eyes. He did this by drawing the body of a person he'd be looking at with squinty eyes using a blue pen and mark off the disease with a red pen on whatever organ it affects. He also scribbled incantations on paper, cut it, spread Vick's Vaporub on it and stick it to the affected body part while unintelligibly whispering an oracion. After the oracion, he would put his lips on the paper he stuck on the body part and blow on it, very much like blowing a raspberry. He'd do all these with unfocused, faraway eyes and heavy limbs. We eventually stopped going there and later on, I remember passing by the house and seeing the miracle man blowing smoke on his panabong.

Come to think of it, I think I've had such an interesting childhood.