Chapter 12: Chapter 12- Bathing Like A Pro

AMILYN

 

We head back to the hut, passing by many more different-color-haired pinili on our way. According to Mary, we went to the barracks pretty early, so as to avoid the crowd. In the peak hour, the place is apparently packed to the brim. Glad to know I avoided a major crowd on my first morning here.

“I hope you know how to wash your clothes by hand,” Mary calls out from her corner of the hut.

“Uhh…why? Are there no washing machines here?” I ask, already fearing the worst.

Mary laughs.

“Of course not, silly. Bagani are supposed to be self-sufficient, so not that much machine down here. You gotta learn to live off the land. I take it you don’t know how to wash your clothes?”

“No,” I reply, defeated. Life here is just beginning and I already have something to not look forward to, aside from centipedes during classes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. It’s not too difficult. Just gotta scrub all the stain away.”

Mary emerges from her area wearing a…wait, what the hell is that?

“Uhh…what are you wearing?”

Mary looks down on herself, as if seeing nothing wrong with the fact that all she’s wearing is some kind of towel wrapped around her body covering her private areas. On her hand is some kind of bat, her dirty clothes, and a basket.

“What? Which one? What’s wrong?” she asks, looking for anything amiss.

“Well…” I reply, mentioning at her general area.

Finally, she seems to get it.

“Well you don’t wanna go to the baths naked, do you? They used to do that but I highly advise against it. And this,” she says, raising the bat, “is called a palo=palo. It’s used for washing clothes. Just smack that bad boy and viola, clean clothes. These,” she adds, mentioning at the small basket she’s carrying, “has tabangaw, used as soap for washing clothes. And here we have gugo, for shampoo. Then a bottle of coconut oil for conditioning. Plus some soap. And of course, can’t forget my go to rock for exfoliating,” she finishes.

“Uhm…” I can only say.

“Oh don’t worry. You have a starter kit in your basket. We’re all given a month’s worth of essentials before school where we learn how to make them. Go and check.

I hesitantly abide, and sure enough, inside the topmost rectangular basket is a smaller basket filled with all the stuff Mary just showed me. Inside the large basket is a large piece of patterned cloth much like the one Mary is using to wrap herself.

“I’ll close the curtains. Take off your clothes and use the malong…yes, that piece of cloth, it’s called a malong. It’s kinda like a tube. You get inside and tie off the excess cloth to secure it. And yes, I did say take off. How will you wash your clothes if you don’t take them off? Can’t wack them when they’re on you, can you now? Hurry, we want to be the first ones at the river,” Mary says in rapid fire succession, closing off the curtain.

I look at the space where she was standing at just now, back at the thing called malong, then back at the space.

I’m supposed to what now?

There is no way I’m gonna go out just wrapped in this thing!

“Amilyn? If you don’t hurry we’ll be caught in the crowd. Trust me, bathing with a couple dozen people is the worst,” Mary shouts from somewhere.

“How about I skip the bath for today? I don’t think I’m mentally prepared to go out in…this thing,” I reply in a weak voice.

“Well that’s understandable. Except you can’t not take a bath today. It’s the harvest festival, gotta be extra clean when you attend,” my roommate replies.

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“Then can I not attend?”

“Hell no! Attendance is a must. Sorry, but you gotta bear with it. It’s not so bad. You’ll get used to it soon.”

Urgh.

Seeing no way out of my predicament, I resign myself to my horrible fate.

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Bathing was…definitely an experience.

We walked clad in those malongs toward the river at the border. To be fair, no one spared us a double take, which I assume meant it’s perfectly normal to be walking around near-naked.

Sure enough, we arrived at the river to find two other early birds clad in the same costume as ours.

Next I learn exactly why Mary told me I can’t wear my clothes. That is, I learned how we’re supposed to be washing clothes: by finding a large flat rock, placing the wet dirty laundry over it, pouring  a good amount of tabangaw juice over it, and smacking the living daylights out of the poor clothes.

“No no no. You gotta put more force into it. Wack it like you mean it. Here, let me show you how it’s done,” Mary interjects once she sees me half-heartedly whacking my laundry.

She then proceeds to slam the palo-palo against the clothes with all her might, so much that I can see her veins bulging from the force.

When our laundry is taken care of, or shall I say when we’ve managed to beat the crap out of the poor linen, we proceed to take our bath.

Now, bathing itself was as how you would expect a bath in the river would go. First we went to dip our entire body in the cold water, then we go to the shore to use the gugo. It’s a bark that is soaked in water and then squeezed to release the soapy extract, which is then applied to the hair. Then we use the soap, which is apparently made of animal fat and coconut oil. Mary even went to find me a rock that I was supposed to use to exfoliate. The entire exfoliating process left my skin raw and red, but I kept the stone out of respect to Mary’s effort in finding it.

Then we went back to the river to remove all the soap. Once more, we went ashore to douse our hair in coconut oil. After once more removing the oil, bathtime is finished.

Now comes the most embarrassing part, walking back to the hut with wet clothing that is doing its best to stick to my skin like a persistent wrapping. Walking is slippery, my hair is still dripping, I’m shivering from the cold, and I’m doing my best to keep the wet fabric of the malong from sticking to my skin.

We finally make it back to the hut, where I find that I am also provided with a set of clothes that fit me to the T. It’s a simple brown shirt and a pair of shorts, which is complimented with a pair of red slippers.

I emerge from my corner, relieved that the whole bathing ordeal is over. Not looking forward to doing that again tomorrow.

“Oh, you done?” Mary says from behind me.

“Yeah. All done,” I reply.

“How was it? Not so bad huh?”

“It’s…well, something I should get used to.”

Mary laughs a little.

“At least you’re a good sport. Come, the festival is about to start.”

And with that, we exit the hut once again.

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