gaba

Science can’t explain everything. And this is good because if all things can be explained in purely scientific terms, then our lives would be devoid of magic and mystery.

Take for instance what happened recently to Bugsy and Trizzia.

Trizzia and Bugsy are four year-old buddies who specialize in disappearing acts, making their yayas frantic. They share street food, climb trees, ride a hammock, race each other in their mini bicycle, hunt for small fish in puddles near the dike, and---wherever chow time finds them---eat in homes other than their own. Yes, they are street-smart kids whose parents---biological for her and adoptive for him---don’t mind if they grow up the way they did, that is, among less fortunate kids!

One Saturday, Trizzia and Bugsy got sick. Like Trizzia, Bugsy had vomiting fits. Like Bugsy, Trizzia had loose bowels. Both Trizzia and Bugsy took medicines. But only Bugsy was flush and feverish. And only Trizzia went to the doctor.

Monday came but Trizzia and Bugsy’s condition didn’t improve. Where before their eyes sparkled, now they were dull; where before they devoured food, now they frowned on them; where before they were restless with boundless energy, now they were weak with near dehydration; where before they were garrulous, now they were mute.

I was worried when I went home on Monday seeing Bugsy sitting in a corner by the stairs. He looked miserable and his neck felt hot to my touch. The vomiting and the shitting continued, said the yaya, reason why Bugsy was absent from his class.

When I went to Trizzia’s, her aunt Japan said Trizzia’s condition had worsened that she brought her again to the doctor. And like Bugsy, Trizzia had lost her appetite and spent most of her time lying down.

Because they were always together, I told Japan that Bugsy and Trizzia might have eaten something dirty, thus making them sick. She said no, they might have contracted chicken pox because in one of the houses they went to, a boy was stricken with it.

It was already dark when I hurried home.

“Where’s Bugsy?” I asked Gly, my sister and Bugsy’s surrogate mom.

“Outside.”

“Outside?” I was annoyed. “He’s running a fever.”

“He’s fine now,” my sister said.

“What do you mean he’s fine?”

“I brought Bugsy to Boroboy,” she said, her voice growing suddenly tense knowing I frowned upon quack medicine, including homeopathy.

“And what is it this time?” I said, sarcasm tasting thick and creamy in my tongue.

“Gaba sa kuno,” Gly said. Despite her being a licensed medical technologist, Gly believes in these things and has no qualms submitting Bugsy, behind my back, to the ministrations of quacks.

Some people don’t believe in gaba simply because it has no English translation. Back in high school, Ma’am Bening said gaba means disgrace. In the bigger scheme of things, gaba is loosely translated as karma, the concept that one reaps what one sows. Or that one gets his comeuppance.

But gaba as a “medical” condition is different. It happens when one smells unintentionally the sweat of persons who are gaba-on, usually carpenters. Symptoms include feeling nauseous and weak.

Presumably, only the gabaon can cure gaba. And there are many ways of doing it, the most popular of which is letting the “patient” smell a whiff of the gabaon’s sweat. This is done with the gabaon fanning the “patient” seven times with the former’s soiled shirt.

“Go, fetch Bugsy,” I told the yaya.

When Bugsy returned, I was flabbergasted: He was back to his old talkative self, exuding boundless energy and with eyes that sparkled as he devoured food.

Amazing!

At the office the next day, Japan, who didn’t know of Bugsy’s unbelievable healing the night before, sent me a text message, saying that Trizzia got worse last night. She said that at about 10:00 PM, they were all set to bring her to the hospital. But then Trizzia’s mom, Maritess, asked Japan to bring Trizzia first to Boroboy before going to Tandag.

Boroboy---Elvis Balmis Agana----was playing tong-its with his neighbors when Japan, Maritess, and Trizzia arrived. Japan told Boroboy what they came for.

Boboroy remained seated. He transferred the cards to his left hand, licked his right index finger, and without even looking at Trizzia, touched her navel.

Then Boroboy went back to playing cards.

Even before they arrived home, Trizzia was already asking for food. An hour later she sweated profusely, after which she again asked for food. Another hour passed and Trizzia was back to her old self before falling into a dreamless sleep.

Incredible, yes. But still.

Purya gaba!