A prophet of modern times

Coconut palms have always been dominant in Tabawan Island, in South Ubian, Tawi-Tawi, as a visitor initially observes. So are thousands of fish laid out over screens to dry. Setting foot on this moat paradise after a back-aching motor boat ride, the impression becomes undeniable. Coconut trunks, cut in half, are the only sturdy material available that are used to build the mosque, the municipal hall, and most of the Tabawan houses and keep them from the depredation of the tumultuous waves of the Sulu Sea.

We arrived at Tabawan before noon and immediately surveyed an architectural enigma of a one-storey home with a bedroom, kitchen, living room all in the space of 20 x 20 meters. The majority of houses in Tabawan are bare. What architecturally identifies the houses are the leverage of the windows that are almost life size, 69 x 34 inches. I would also be learning that the people never care to bolt their houses, security being their least concern.

That night, we were entertained with Tabawan’s traditional maritime dances by a dark-skinned, high cheek-boned woman in her late 50s. She was garbed in black, with a red kerchief around her neck. I was attracted to her extrusive nails and her extraordinary bony knuckles. Those aluminum nails that could scratch and kill glistened with the movement of the fish the woman mimicked with her dances. But what I remember most about the woman were her eyes, piercing through me.

I met her the following day and being nearer, noticed that her glaring and strident eyes were more haunting. She was Econg Jahali, and her extraordinary stares did not surprise me anymore when I learned that she was a diviner. From that moment on, I became curious about her.

Econg sold tobacco in Tabawan when we met. She was from the Samal tribe and a land dweller. But what made her a celebrity in the island was her capability to foretell the future by her mediumship of a local jin, or spirit, who guards Tubig-Mahiya, a sacred place in the island of Languyan in Tawi-Tawi.

I was told Econg acquired her extraordinary powers when her son Binoy, aged 20, died. Coming home from school one day, the son slept and never woke up again. He was pronounced dead for unknown reasons and following Muslim customs, the boy had to be buried before sunset of the same day. In her mourning, Econg played the gong and an unidentified jin possessed her. He was a male jin who instructed her not to bury Binoy for he would resurrect in three days. And he did! "Oh my. Where is Binoy?" I asked. Binoy was not with her. He had already migrated to Sabah.

"Tell me," I asked, which was translated into Samal, "when is the best time to approach Econg for a fortune-telling session?" The reply came soon enough. "On the 15th moon, when the jins are most accessible." We met the spirits that enter her – Putli Jailon, Leo Lahi Alam, Kutul Dila, Tuko-alam Silo, Tuan Bojeron and Maharlika Awon, all former Tabawan who became her guardians upon their journey to the other life.

We visited Econg in her paradise – her tiny hut built over the water. One could literally walk through one house to the other. Everyone kept the peace with an open heart and an open door. Noisy blond, sun-tanned children accompanied us to Econg’s home that it became jam-packed. Apart from the life-size windows where one could exit and enter from, a four-poster bed dominated her living area with six chests as headboard and malongs draped on the wall falling above the chests. A daffodil was stuck on her nipa wall. How feminine! A little table was beside her bed. It was the quasi-altar where Econg performed her divining prowess. Champaca flowers, nga-nga, tambok, turban and, of course, the tonic completed the layout of the makeshift altar.

A bangko appeared like a sentinel beside her king-size bed’s approach. It supported everyone while getting up or down the bed as the latter was a tall antique one. There were no cushions on the bed except for several banigs. Econg sat on the center, in a yoga-style lotus position. During the session, a man was by her left side. On the right side were two female attendants who assisted her in changing her clothes in the course of the ritual. With each new voice of the jin came a change of attire.

The ingredients used for this divining session were chosen by the jins and any interested party had to procure them. For example, the tonic. The spirits preferred only the Malaysian Narie Mataduyong Siren brand. Econg drank it at the start of the session.

Upon swallowing the beverage, she went into a trance. A female spirit, in the form of a Danda, entered Econg. Immediately, incense placed in a coconut shell was burned. Squirming, she burped as a signal that the jin had, indeed, entered her. It was also the signal that questions would be entertained. She went in and out of the trance –and back to reality. Her two devoted attendants never missed a cue as they held a malong as a curtain in front of the crowd from where she could dress up. She wore a male garb to remind us that the jin in that particular instance was a male.

In the mode of answering or foretelling the future, Econg in a stupor, recalled the past. She enumerated her ancestors to us, as in a tarsila or genealogy. "First was Washid, then Batu, Kala, Lahid, Medianon and Jianon," she chanted. She told us that the Samals, the tribes that inhabit the island, came from Johore, Malaysia on a jongayan, a kind of boat. These migrants in jongayans were carried away by a typhoon into the Tawi-Tawi Islands. One of the valiant pioneers was Tabawan, who fought the Iraan, or mountain people, who used to inhabit the island. In his memory, this municipality was so named. I was being given tutorial classes by a lady in a trance!

In her sober state, she has no qualms about saying that she is not bothered by those who remind her that her practices are against Islam. She always qualifies that divination is part of the ancient religious tradition of some tribes in Mindanao (It is). She is quick to retort that there are other old women in Tabawan who also engage in these practices... that the Samal women are physically strong.

The fact that women can bear any kind of hardships, the most difficult of which are bearing and rearing children proves that they, like the sturdy coconut palms of Tabawan, are a tough lot.