DISCLAIMER: I am not so sure if you will believe this story I am about to type but since I am here to document my life and be so honest about everything I have gone through as a person taking up earth space for more than two decades, I might as well type it as it is without giving a single buck whether you think it’s ridiculous or not.

Zamboanga. The Spanish capital of the Philippines. A place so historical yet so dangerous and poverty-stricken. On a personal level, this place was once home. My earliest memories as a human being had this province as its setting given that my father used to work/live here back in the 90s. We used to live in a two-storey house overlooking the ocean and personally, it is my favorite of all the houses we stayed in. It used to be a restaurant-type summer house of the Spaniards so it had a really wide balcony where you can see the sun set in an endless expanse of water dotted by small fishing boats. I remember air-drawing this white line that separates the sky from the sea every time I climb the balcony ledge and get all introspective. If my memory serves me well, we had a huge flower garden, a mango orchard, a water tank tower and a small farm for our growing livestock aka playmates. Our house was perfect for a Nancy Drew crime scene, to be honest.

I was maybe 5 when we left this place and settled in Manila for good. I cannot recall if we ever came back but most of what I remember from this place are happy memories and very detailed scenes of pointless moments. We went back because of security purposes. Kidnapping and looting were rampant and my father decided to just start a business in Manila in time for our schooling.

I went back after almost two decades for work-related stuff. Honestly, I wouldn’t think of coming back in that place if it wasn’t for work. I had such precious memories of my childhood in that place that I don’t want to be tainted and disfigured when I return.

Things have indeed changed a lot. Even the airport seemed much bearable compared to how it was a decade ago. Although they still use the same old uncomfortable chairs they had in the 90s, the architecture imbibed the Chavacano culture and it was done in a tasteful way. the hotel we stayed in was also fancy, you wouldn't think war was going on in this place because the place was impeccable and safe. Or so we thought.

During our first night, I find it hard to sleep and for most parts of the night, I was just staring at the ceiling aimlessly waiting for light to peak in our room window. I remember getting up at around 1 am to stretch when I saw this figure seated in the study chair 5 ft away from our bed. I have VERY POOR eye sight and I didn’t even bother to check who it was so I just went back to find a comfortable sleeping position. I got up again maybe around 3 and saw the same exact figure on the chair and convinced myself it was my Colleague doing some last minute typing in her laptop. Morning came and the colleague whom I assumed was sitting on the chair asked another colleague why she was working late at night. I was like “hey, you were the one working last night not her…” blablabla and to cut this short, none of us were seated on the chair at the time when the two of us saw someone sitting on it in different times. I wasn’t in the mood to scare myself so I did things as usual even going in the room alone to rest, play music, study Spanish and do air bicycles (hehe).    

Life and work went on as usual and I even joined my mentors for dinner by the bay and some windowshopping. I was practically normal and didn’t feel anything bad was going to happen until we went back to the hotel and I felt like vomiting everything I ate. 

After maybe 12AM I can no longer sleep and was rushing to the bathroom every 30 minutes to puke. The stomach pain was just so intense it felt like someone was stabbing me repeatedly in different areas. At one point, I decided to just stay in the bathroom because I found it pointless and energy-consuming creeping back on the bed only to jump out of it again and head to the bathroom. I don't know if I was hallucinating at that time but I was throwing up things I didn't eat like snails and whole crab shells which would have freaked me out if I had the energy to do so.

I wasn’t able to sleep at all and have already told my roommates I couldn’t get out of the bed that day when morning came. They were kind enough to send me food which I threw up anyway but the effort still counts. I assumed I was already feeling better so I took my bath, dressed up in the attempts of attending meetings set in the afternoon (it was a conference).

One of our colleagues comes from a long line of spiritual healers of their tribe. She was kind enough to visit me in my room while I was watching TV and she immediately noticed that I had fever. A condition I didn’t know I had. She made me lie down the bed and chanted some stuff when she told me that what I had wasn’t a medical condition. She thought that I might have offended a Spirit or a spirit liked me so she took me to her room and did some small ritual. 

I was lying on her bed with my eyes closed when she was 'summoning' this spirit that was inside me and I kid you not, while my eyes were closed a flash of white light just sort of exploded and a person creature with long black hair and a wood~like textured face was just in front of me. I told her about what I was seeing and I can hear her speak a language I do not understand. A gust of wind interrupted her chanting and she told me the spirit is too strong and very VERY mad at me.

She gave me a small bottle with a tree branch soaked in some special liquid and told me to hold on to it while I waited for the meeting to end so she can attend to me. I'm proud to say I did make it until the end of the meeting and collapsed right after the photo was taken.

I was rushed in the Ciudad de Zamboanga Hospital afterwards conscious (I can hear their frantic screams) but unable to move. Note that I have NEVER been confined in the hospital after the day I was born which attests to how healthy I am as a person and it was a bit unfortunate that my first taste of the Emergency Room coincided with a dengue outbreak. Ergo, mayhem everywhere. They had no stretchers available so I sat in the wheel chair for 2 hours or so while doctors were screaming at each other trying to accommodate all the patients. The nurse who took my blood pressure got so worried when he read it was down to 50, the blood pressure recorded before you go into a coma. I was a priority patient afterwards and had a suero injected in my left hand just a few minutes when they got my BP.

From what I can hear, the doctors diagnosed that I had a stage 3 kidney problem and ordered nurses to inject a load of medicine in me.  If I had all the energy I needed, I would have laughed so hard to mock them from such poor diagnosis. REALLY? A person who sees her doctors more than she sees her friends will develop a serious kidney condition overnight? I just tested negative for kindey stones months back and now I’m dying? The doctor told my friend that I needed to be confined but because of the dengue outbreak, they cannot accommodate me and I had to be transferred to another hospital. The stubborn person in me kept shaking my head when they asked if I wanted to be confined. These annoying medical people were like pre-school teachers all vehemently saying no and that I will be confined or else they won’t give me medical clearance to fly back to Manila. This whole threat would be so much better if they had admitting facilities or even just a bed to accommodate my very weak self BUT NO, I just had to find another hospital.

The whole struggle was just epic and to make matters worse, I was just seated in a freaking wheel chair the whole time – talk about comfort and convenience!

They only talked to me when they injected something on the tubes they attached. “Hija, this is for vomiting” “this is for pain” “this is for your fever” “this is for when you see Satan in hell”. They were literally drugging me and the only motor skill I can bring myself to do is slight headshaking to express my disapproval.

Thankfully, another colleague lives in Zamboanga and knows a doctor in another hospital. She also knew another "babaylan" (spiritual healer) and called her as well to meet us in the other hospital. It was my first ever hospital crawl and I found myself in the ward with 10 other patients. 

The babaylan came, did some really epic rituals that involved her spitting on me to spite the spirit so it would transfer to her. After 20 minutes or so, my eyes automatically opened and I felt like a brand new person. I kid you not I could probably win American Ninja Warrior after I woke up (with so much spit on my hair). Even my colleague was so surprised that the change was so drastic! 

The babaylan was choking for a bit while talking to me and she told me the tree spirit got upset because I saw it and talked to it in a very casual and disrespectful manner. She also told me to change rooms immediately and leave sweets in the old room to make ammends. She also gave me a waterbottle with murky water inside and instructed me to drink all its contents that night. She was coughing like mad when we left and I assumed the spirit was choking her.

I eventually found out that the land where the hotel was built was previously a tree orchard and some locals told me that since the owner was a foreigner, s/he didn't really follow the century old ritual done before claiming and building on a piece of land (yes, we have those in South East Asia to be at peace with natural spirits). And I'm not the first person to have been played on by some angry and neglected natural spirit. Yes, it's very Spirited Away。

I have been a believer ever since that we're not the only ones treading this earth and we should be mindful of what we do to it for the sake of coexistence. This experience reminded me of how important it is to go back to your roots. If you think about it, nobody was harmed from respecting nature and the faculties that govern it.