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This story originally appeared onVogue Philippines.
The remote village of Buscalan, home of the famed lastmambabatokof her generation, has never been this accessible.
Whang-Od Buscalan Tattoo Village is now paved over, reducing hike time by over an hour.
Modern conveniences havent completely transformedBuscalan, yet.
On Whang-Od’s skin is inscribed her life story, from accomplishments to ailments and names of long-gone lovers.
There is still no cell signal, and only a scant number of residents have WiFi.
The woman who has been around to witness all these changes is also the one largely responsible for them.
For men, this meant being minted as a headhunting warrior.
On Whang-Od’s skin is inscribed her life story, from accomplishments to ailments and names of long-gone lovers.
Women were tattooed for different reasons, primarily for fertility and beautification.
They only have the markings on their body.
Whang-Od has tattooed more women than warriors, as headhunting was banned by the Americans in the early 1900s.
Apo Whang-Od with grand-niece Grace Palicas, who has inherited her commitment to the craft of batok.
But reality was more nuanced.
Headhunting, as practiced, was a part of ritual warfare that had spiritual implications.
In those days, unmarked women were considered imperfect, undesirable.
Whang-Od was conferred the Dangal ng Haraya award in 2018, and the campaign is still on to raise her to a National Living Treasure or even a National Artist.
On Whang-Ods skin is inscribed her life story, from accomplishments to ailments and names of long-gone lovers.
Though the practice has completely ceased, it remains vital that it should never be forgotten.
Grace Palicas, her 10-year-old grandniece, was chosen to be her apprentice, though initially a reluctant one.
I was the first child to learn how to tattoo.
I just observed what she did, Grace, now 26, tells us.
We are, after all, neither warriors nor Butbut maidens ready for marriage.
When she finishes with the client, it is theVogueteams turn to get tatted.
Grace is the first Buscalan native to bring batok to the West.
Apo Whang-Od with grand-niece Grace Palicas, who has inherited her commitment to the craft of batok.
I was relatively uninformed when I got my first Kalinga tattoo a year before.
Later I learned that the crab design with its pincers/fishhooks is associated with the Filipino deity Lumauig.
A few scholars have noted that Lumauig bears a striking resemblance to the Polynesian trickster Maui.
As you probably know, Maui possesses a magical fishhook.
I regarded my tattoo with a new appreciation of the deep intertextual history behind its simple lines.
Emily Oggay, a relative of Apo, tattooed the crab on my thigh.
It was virtually painless.
She joked that her taps are liketik-tik-tikwhile Apos taps areTOK-TOK-TOK, miming a heavy hammer.
At its peak, Buscalan hosted over 400 visitors a day.
Homestays were crammed to the brim, with strangers sleeping shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor.
Before, farming was our livelihood.
We would only eatkamote.
We also learned how to speak English and Tagalog because of the visitors.
Villagers had no choice but to return to farming.
Grace adds that it was also good because we were able to rest a bit.
But when I first went up in July 2021, Whang-Od was not at home resting.
She had absconded to the village in the neighboring mountain where restrictions were laxer.
She wanted to keep tattooing.
Jake Verzosa recalls the time he first got a tattoo from Whang-Od.
The year was 2009, and he paid for his markings in brown sugar andposporo.
Indeed, the cuff on his arm starts off a bit crooked.
Grace would have been 13 at the time, but her lines were very clean.
Jake would spend three years completing his portrait series of the women elders of Kalinga.
Culture is an increasingly prized commodity, aggressively appropriated by other entities, she said.
Whang-Od, who turned 106 in February, is the oldest livingmambabatokbut certainly not the last.
Culture survives through representation, not appropriation.
Photographer: Artu Nepomuceno.
Producer: Anz Hizon.
Production Assistants: Jojo Abrigo, Marga Magalong, Renee De Guzman.
Photographers Assistants: Aaron Carlos, Choi Narciso, Sela Gonzales.
Special thanks to the National Commission on Indigenous Peoples.
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