On my first trip with my husband to his family home on the island of Camiguin, in the Philippines, we spent a lot of time driving around to visit family, the beach and even parts of the jungle. Every time I was about to exit the car, my husband would grab my hand and say, "Make sure the minute you get out of the car you say, 'Tabi apo'. Keep saying it when you are around the old trees as well."
I did as he advised, thinking it was strange, yet this Filipino tradition has now become a habit of mine. It's a phrase used to greet tree spirits (Engkanto) and to respectfully request that they step aside. Otherwise, one runs the risk of irritating them, which could bring on sickness and bad luck to whoever bumps into them.
Make sure the minute you get out of the car you say, 'Tabi apo'. Keep saying it when you are around the old trees as well
On that trip, I exited the car and repeated 'Tabi apo' over and over. It reminded me of a custom from ancient Greece, where one would pay respects to and ask protection from the nymph tree spirits (Dryads) by tapping on a tree. This custom has filtered down the ages to today's saying, 'knock on wood' when we don't want something bad to happen. I found the history of these traditions so interesting that they sparked a quest to learn more about the roots of the similar traditions in both cultures.
The next Filipino tradition that fascinated me was how one greets their elders. My husband requested that when I meet his grandmother for the first time, I must ask for what is called the 'bless'. This involves taking the elder's hand and pressing it against your forehead. At the time, I wholeheartedly agreed. But when the day came, my grandmother-in-law welcomed me by giving me a warm hug - and I ended up completely forgetting about the 'bless'. These days, if it ever skips my mind, I am pulled up by Filipino family young and old, to ask for the 'bless' every time we see each other.
My grandmother-in-law welcomed me by giving me a warm hug - and I ended up completely forgetting about the 'bless'
As this was so new to me, I was keen to find out where the greeting comes from. When I asked Filipino family members and friends about its origin, I got the same response: that this was how it was always done. Still curious, I embarked on some research of my own. I came upon a rare work by a Spaniard priest, Father Pedro Chirino, which also happens to be one of the first history books written on Philippine culture called, Relacion de Islas Filipinas (1604). The priest's observations showed that asking for an elder's blessing was common from the era before the country's colonisation by the Spaniards. At that time, one would sit on their heels before their elder to ask for a blessing. When Catholicism was introduced in the 14th century, this evolved to taking the elders hand to ones forehead - which is the practice we've come to know now.
ln my own culture in Greece, a similar gesture is performed when greeting a priest or on a special occasion like a wedding. The origin of placing the elder's or priest's hand on your forehead or kissing their hand originates from within the Orthodox religion, as a sign of respect and reverence.
I found the similarities to continue into the culinary world where the main attraction of any feast or celebration, among tables full of dishes, is a slowly spit-roasted pig. In both Greece and the Philippines, it's the headliner at every festive meal. In the Philippines, the use of pig in celebratory cooking dates back to the country's pre-colonisation period. In that era, parts of the pig were used as offerings in religious rituals. When the Spaniards colonised the country, they slowly introduced pork into the existing non-pork Filipino recipes. The Spaniards would also encourage their own tradition of having a pig on the spit which has, over time evolved to the Lechon (Spanish for suckling pig) of today - a dish that symbolises joyfulness in gatherings. For Greeks, the origin of the spit-roasted pig (Gourouni sti souvla) goes back to ancient times, where the pig was seen as a symbol of fertility. Back then, the animal was sacrificed to honour the god Cronos, and his daughter, Demeter, for a good harvest.
Lechon being served at the writer's grandmother-in-law's 80th birthday party. Source: Supplied
My mini quest has taught me to not take traditions at face value. In digging deeper and finding out more about the meaning behind each tradition, it made me feel a kinship with my new family. And sometimes, having a deeper understanding of another culture is exactly what you need to reconnect you to your ancestral roots.
