Visions & Dreams of Baltazara

By Baltazara S. Tchermnykh

In this fascinating memoir from the Philippines, Baltazara Tchermnykh explores her family's history from its roots in Spanish colonial times through an idyllic childhood living on the edge of the logging industry. Growing up with a Catholic religious upbringing, she had many mystical experiences since childhood and constantly searched for answers. She had many life-threatening adventures. She writes about her efforts to gain an education, despite poverty; she shares stories about her friendships and siblings, her love of dance, and the times living under a military dictatorship.

The eldest of eight children, Baltazara finds love and moves to France, leaving behind everyone she's ever known.

Faith sustains her through a near-death experience and several visions and spiritual experiences. The ancient wisdom from her grandmothers, great-aunts, and mother guides her as she starts her own family and follows her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Baltazara Tchermnykh
• Release date: May 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201572945

Book preview

Table of Contents

Prologue

Butuan 1952 – 1957

Paradise on Earth 1956-1961

Childhood and Mystical Experiences

A mysterious white dove - 1957

The killer lightning: a premonition dream that came true

Was the Good Spirit illuminating my way home?

Yoyo Supri’s Spirit

Longing to climb a coconut tree

The private Catholic school – 1957-1961

Holy Mass and the Choir

My Schooling Interrupted – 1961

Amelie and Ashley's Birth

Bottle time

The best baby-soother

The baby twins' characters

The Flood in Butuan 1961- 1962

A dead body

Nanay dying while Butuan was in flood

Nanay's spirit visited us

Moments with Nanay

Returning to school

Near-Death Experiences and Out-of-Body Sensations

Claustrophobia

Life as A Schoolgirl 1962-1980

Fast learners: the crack section

Jazz instructor and dressmaking (1967)

The dance contest

The Sawmill Explodes

Tatay reminding me to write

My lost paradise

Living Under Martial Law 1972-1981

The voucher and payroll

Military jeep accident

My first and last hangover

ROTC Cadet’s presentation of their Queen

Support the soccer team – my other mission

The alpha sigma phi fraternity/sorority

Financial hurdles as a self-supporting student  1969-80

Graduation Day

Conflicting and invalid identity

Younger Siblings

My Love Life 1979-1981

Meeting Lionel

Did I feel love for Jason?

The air conditioner catches fire

The guilt gnaws at me

Jason can’t forgive me

Was My Life Planned Before I Was Born?

The machete stabbing

The mysterious passenger

Hazardous ship travel

The crowds around Pope John Paul II’s visit

Lionel Comes Back for Marriage

Ship voyage back to Butuan

Porters and The Kidnap

Escape, police, and investigation

Bandits attack Lionel

Lionel speaks to me, at last

We finally reach Butuan

The Scariest Landing

Struggle to reach France

Arrival

My guitar

The traditional French welcome

My Life in France

Our Church Wedding

Lysiane

Lionel’s astral body

Trip From France To The Philippines

Typhoon Maring

Our luggage saga continues

Life In Paris

Visit the Philippines ‒ 1986

I lose trust in my neighbour

We wanted a second child

Job Research

The challenging period of adolescence

Pure Visions While Fully Awake

The Triumphs Over Trials

Lionel’s heart procedure – 2002

The babies at home

Lionel’s heart surgery– 2002

The father claims his two daughters

Lysiane’s Wedding

Vadim, in my vision premonition

Sasha

Clairvoyance and Visions 1982-2020

Lysiane’s cards

The car crash

Moving into the new home

Message from my late brother-in-law

Are my dreams warnings?

In France, Premonitions Are Stronger

Premonition about Sister Cecilia’s Mother

Dreams, Visions About Family in the Philippines and Australia

Dream of Amelie

Visions of Ashley

Segundino’s trajic death

An explosion of a tanker

Dan was ambushed

Holidays in Hongkong and Australia

Lionel and His Unforgettable Adventures 1969-2019

Lionel at risk in Northern Ireland – 1970

Kidnapping in disguise

Saved by our loyal dog – 2016

The Metro – 2018

Friendly Spirits

Sonia’s spirit confirms her presence – 1987

Françoise says goodbye -1996

Huguette in her Coffin – January 1998

Bekka’s spirit visits us – June 2012

Lydia’s spirit came to visit her brother in 2014

My Godmother crossing  over – 2018

Serge – December 2018

Special Experiences

Municipal Councilor

The Challenge of Being a Juror – 1996

My horse riding adventures

My feelings towards my husband – 2012

Exhilarating hot air balloon ride – October 2012

Ballroom dancing  2013-2021

Mama Dominga

Dominga is healed from arthritis – a miracle?

The Holy Virgin Mary visits Dominga

A scary creature pops out of nowhere

How my parents met – was it love at first sight?

Mama and my birthday

Mama informs me about Tatay’s health

Reflections on My Family History and Ancestry

Esperanza Jamboy (Nanay)

How Nanay Survived World War II

Unpaid taxes

Memorable Moments with Tatay

Tatay saved me

Tatay Passing Away in 2017

My last dream before Tatay passed away

The clothing at the burial

Divine guidance

Has he guided me to write this memoir?

Shall I return home to the Philippines to stay?

Epilogue

Acknowledgement

I never expected to come to tell you

about this experience that happened to me

long ago when the Scientific realm was still

sceptical about the near-death-experience (NDE)

knowledge and out-of-body experience (OBE) in 1962,

which still sounds like fiction. Today, I conclude that

a scientist has experienced this himself; he can fully

explain that the theory depends on the

individual condition. I can, however, tell

about the proof of Heaven, the life

after death, and the power of

Visions and Vivid Dreams.

Prologue

This collection of compelling strange true life stories of significant events and upheavals that started in my childhood; are meaningful experiences with surprising consequences. The book explores accounts of some episodes of paranormal experience and other mysterious spiritual connections with a loving and profound intangible force, such as the Holy Spirit’s visit that appeared in my room that changed my childhood life. Consequently, this experience heightened my senses and perceptions; I can sense when someone is lying and sometimes lose my temper. I can hear voice messages that others can’t, and I experience having visions or premonitions that have never been wrong. I can feel the feelings and emotions of the people surrounding me, which is sometimes hard to cope with.

The profound near-death and out-of-body experiences are also the best things that have ever happened to me. The sensation of being away from your own body and meeting those who have gone ahead of time, like how I encountered my late grandmother, taught me that our life on earth is just a chapter. God pour His love into every one of us. I hoped that this beautiful gift of life I ever had would bring light, hope, and inspiration to the world.

I had a glimpse of heaven; at the time, I remember seeing a blissful, heavenly peaceful world full of beautiful beaming white light glowing everywhere. I heard continuous singing of beautiful sacred chants, so beautiful that human words can’t explain, a choir of million angels in different beautiful voices. I felt the tremendous God’s love and protection. There were no feelings of sadness, only pure love, peace, and joy. This is one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever had. I realised I had died and came back to life with prophetic visions and vivid dreams.

I was, however, back to my physical body with profound regrets. I would have preferred to remain in the spiritual world where I felt God’s deep unconditional divine love. Unfortunately, it was not my time to go home to His home but to go home to my parent’s home.

My grandmother, who passed away five months ago before this experience, told me to go home; deep inside, I protested but obeyed. She said my mother still needs me about my brother and youngest sister’s coming. I would have liked to stay with her, but she left, and I cried. Since then, I have quickly called out even for any simple thing.

The love for anyone on earth cannot be compared to the Divine love of our Lord Jesus. I had this compelling need to share my experience, but I pondered that those who have not experienced a glance of heaven may not fully comprehend what I mean. I had never heard about the NDEs at that time. I realised what I was experiencing was real, but no one took me seriously, so I preferred to keep all these experiences to myself as no one could have believed me where I had gone. In later years, I confided this experience to some adults, and they looked at me amazingly as if I were crazy.

I was so blessed to have been shown a wonderful glimpse of the afterlife, and in this encounter I met my late grandmother, who helped me see that life after death exists. And for me, although the process of dying varies, we need not fear death, as it is the beginning of real life, the eternal life. All these unforgettable supernatural events modified my life’s existence. I don’t care if people won’t believe me; I know where and what I have been through.

As a consequence of NDE, I was connected with the afterlife. I died and returned with the ability to foresee the death of others; it enabled me to predict when someone would die. I have this gift of visitation dream where I can feel strangely too real, connected and communicating with someone who has left the physical world for the spiritual and mostly comforted me. They usually communicate with me not with words but mentally or through touch, symbols, signs, and emotions, and they are incredibly organised. I recognised when a spirit was good when surrounded by the divine light, which appeared on their happy faces. I never felt cold nor feared during their visit; they appeared to me normally as living people, except they are intangible. The best example is my vivid dream of my late father, where I feel secure, protected, and guided, as explained in the chapters below.

I, HOWEVER, HAD RECEIVED a message from the other side that occurred during the day and not in a dream.

A friend passed away a few weeks ago. He had suffered a lot from kidney failure for a year. One afternoon, he visited me, and I could never ignore his visit; he revealed his presence by showing me amazingly some movements and physical, tangible signs.

I was alone in my office at home as usual. I’d finished writing my dedication to him that afternoon, and while I read my emails on my second screen at my right, I suddenly heard a slight hissing sound of breeze-like soft music inviting me to see my principal computer screen in front of me. This completely drew my attention.

I was stupefied by what I’d seen before my eyes; I admired the whole scene just so incredible! It was a pity that nobody was with me to testify to this supernatural event. I was carried with my unexplainable emotion but couldn’t move and only focused on my computer screen, observing the phenomenal manifesting so near my face. I perceived the vibration of his presence.

Steve Waddell read the middle part of the text, maybe the one he preferred most, by pointing to each word with a glowing and transparent, fine, short, grey stick which created a soft vibration which gradually grew stronger while regularly jumping on top of each word until the whole paragraph was read.

I was overwhelmingly shocked and pleased at the same time observing the phenomenon. Tears dropped to my cheeks as he changed the text I wrote by placing a significant sign or symbol between words, as he usually did when he was still living, except that the colour was more vibrant than usual. This convinced me of the logical memory that Steve was with me. I recognised those phrases we often uttered during our conversations and the sign or symbol beside the word we usually shared; only he and I knew them. I perceived the connection between us telepathically.

Is this you, Steve? I asked utterly.

Yes, it’s me, honey.

I was stunned. He was there! I heard the answer telepathically vibrate in my head, and a symbol was immediately planted between his favourite vibrating words. This couldn’t be a hallucination. I’ve blasted with strange emotions I had never felt before! Difficult to put in words.

It felt like I could almost touch him. What a privilege! Our mental communication comforted me and changed me to some degree. It was the first time a human spirit or soul manifested and occurred just a few centimetres between the screen and my face; it blew my mind!  I looked around just in case I could see him. And before he left, I felt a slight caress on my left cheek, and he softly touched my head; my hair stood up crumpled, reflected on my computer screen. I touched my head in case I could touch his hand. I felt serene with his presence, honoured and proud of his visit. Although I didn't hear his voice orally, I was aware of his feelings, emotions and thoughts towards me, which were hard to explain. His soul and spirit were with me that wonderful afternoon. This visitation experience will remain etched in my memory. Since then, I have had this feeling sensation of not being alone.

Was he there observing me the whole day? I muttered.

Was he observing me while  I was asleep?

Would he visit me again if I transfer into a new home?

Am I silly to say that now that he’s dead, I suppose he can come freely at any time?

How could I relate this experience to people or friends, and what would they say?

Candidly, I don’t care; I know who visited me, what I saw and how I felt then. Sharing this experience again tells them that life after death indeed exists. I know it’s perplexing and astounding to comprehend for those who didn’t experience this phenomenon.

I sometimes felt ashamed that he would come back and see me unproperly dressed. He knew I was writing a book when he was living, and now he passed away, but he never came before I wrote something about him, and I am sure he was pleased. When he was still living, he told me he wanted to become an ordained priest; his parents were not catholic and prevented him from doing so, although he remained a Christian catholic and a believer.

"I presumed he came to see what I was writing?

He once asked me: What are you writing, honey?

It’s about the supernatural, I answered.

And now he has become a part of it. I know he is now relieved from pain and happy to see his two children who died together from a motor accident and may also join his father, who passed away while he was a young child.

AS FOR ME, THE APPEARANCE of divinely granted visions and vivid dreams are mostly warnings or messages from God. I can sense when my dreams come from God, for it forever remains vivid. Mostly, a series of premonitions that bring love, joy and harmony was always a blessing.

The series of different struggles are an answer to God’s call or are parts of His divine plans. As a young child, these strange phenomena were challenging to understand and interpret as no one told me about them at the time. I preferred not to talk about it, even to my younger siblings. As an adult, they increased my desire to write them down to share with others. This includes my experiences of premonitions, precognitions, and messages from the other side.

I experience the things of the past and those that are yet to come through dreams.  I realised that each dream has a purpose. I was pondering an interpretation of my dreams that continues to baffle me. Many of my dreams ended up coming true and left me amazed.

Sarah, there is no reason to fear your visions and dreams; these are signs of God’s love for you, said Sister Cecilia, a nun who guided me once.

Another consequence of my NDE: I have developed a large memory that enables me to remember the events and premonition dreams that happened during early childhood that I have longtime forgotten. This experience occurred more than fifty years back, but I came up to remember them.

I sometimes see strange visions that last a few seconds, even when fully awake. Coincidences, hunches, and premonitions are all lodged in my memory in a way that makes it feel like those events happened only yesterday. However, sometimes I only recall suspicions revealed in my dreams later after the foreseen actual events unfold in real life. It continues to baffle me.

My intuitive thoughts made me feel quite distant from other children or adults. This made me sometimes develop anger against myself, and at the same time, I was intrigued to know what might be different or unique about my personality. When I conversed with others, I could tell I was different from them.

I PASSED AWAY AND RETURNED with a surprising ability to see the future and foresee when someone’s death is approaching. I am grateful when I have sensed some excellent news such as upcoming trips, new marriages, births (and whether the child is a boy or girl), and other important events. Once, I helped a family member find a house, and a friend found his new job. However, I’ve often been misunderstood. The information is not seen ahead in any planned fashion, but rather it comes by surprise in a flash, often complex to translate or difficult for it to flow.

I chose to participate more in religious and intellectual discussions with adults rather than interact with children of my age. I learned from their different types of stories of successes and shortcomings, giving me new perspectives on life. Living in our complex world without spiritual guidance only enhances trouble and misunderstandings.

Good religious people throughout my life helped me feel at ease. Many were callous and presumptuous. Some people pretended to be my friends, seeming to be very devoted to their religious activities yet, simultaneously using good works to mask their guilt.

I humbly admit I didn’t always do the right thing. God knows how many times I have offended Him, and I ask Him to grant me His pardon. I know He is right and that I should live by His word. I am a sinner; I often lost my way and begged God for His mercy. I always need His guidance not to be tempted to live in immorality and hatred or remorse. I am, however, guided by the Holy Spirit. My short experience of seeing heaven has taught me to remain connected with God.

Have you ever sensed things yet to happen, such as the upcoming death of someone, even though looking at that person, nobody could guess that end was approaching?

I once told my mother that a person we knew would die soon, and she scolded me. It hurt me when she said people would think I was malevolent, so I stopped telling anybody and had peace about it.

It is impossible to tell someone about their coming death because, in most cases, I never knew exactly when, where, or how. This drove me mad. I need to take distance when I have a friend or colleague and foresee their passing away. I fear telling him, scared of his reaction. This puts me in a dilemma, whether to inform the family of the forthcoming undesirable event, but sharing my incomplete news might cause them to disbelieve more or worse: persecution. To avoid such confusion, I often avoided joining in with groups of people or looking deep into people’s eyes when I had premonitions.

The more I fought to sense the future for people, the more influential the encounter became. Anxieties invaded me every time precognition occurred without knowing why; it was very upsetting. Any meeting would be even more challenging if the vision concerned a close family member, leading to misunderstandings and unspoken words.

A short ceremony was held during my father’s wake, and many people attended. But I did not expect to be asked to say some words. I was unprepared, and it was difficult to utter even a few words in front of people while fighting back sobs. I was wordless. I was afraid that nobody understood what I said. However, a man unknown to me came up to me after the ceremony.

I agree with you, he said, smiling and staring at me serenely.

Who is he? I asked myself.

Has he understood me without a word? I wondered.

But simultaneously, I was bewildered because I had seen a vision of him dead. I became even more upset but not afraid, for this was not the first time I met someone healthy but dying soon; I did not understand what he was saying anymore.

The following morning, the man attended my father’s burial with his family. I learned he was the father of my nephew’s wife. I sensed that to inform them of what would happen to her father would only cause them more grief. I regret being a coward by failing to help them prepare for the future sad event. But I didn’t want them to anticipate the pain of losing him. I could guess somewhat that it would be rather shocking to them to hear me. I precipitated their reactions.

How did you know something from the future? they would say.

Only a handful of close family and friends know I have this capacity, and I always feel guilty. I prevented myself from telling this to my younger siblings for fear of their reactions. Although it is difficult to handle today, I often keep things to myself to avoid confrontation and try to make peace with that. 

Anyhow, despite some feelings of uncertainty, I felt honoured and flattered when harmless good spirits came to visit me and talk to me mentally; for me, it is a great privilege that they still cared for me from before, and even after they had joined the other side. It is gratifying to hear when a spirit has had a happy crossover, like my beloved father, Tatay Eco.

Tatay remains forever alive as I keep his legacy of wisdom in me. I am pretty reassured, thinking he is there watching me like a guardian angel and waiting for me with open arms when my turn comes.

Sometimes my intuition was so strong that I couldn’t avoid revealing it, even though it was against my will. This can be so embarrassing. However, impulses must sometimes be displayed quickly to prevent danger.

I ONCE SAW HUGUES, my husband’s nephew, in a flash meeting in a car crash. So, I advised him not to drive and should stay home that night. He agreed with me, so I was happy. But a close friend came in a car and invited him to go somewhere. That night, I dreamed of him inside the car, wounded. His head was bathed in blood. Their vehicle hit a large pole, and the broken lamppost came through the roof of their car.

I wonder why my young daughter had precisely the same dream that night. Upon awakening, we immediately called Claudie, Hugues’s mother, to find out if he was still in bed. She said Hugues had not slept at home. We were all in a panic. We called the police and the hospitals. It turned out that Hugues was in the hospital, seriously wounded but alive. Oh, my Lord Jesus, please forgive me for asking this:

Why I sometimes had the sense and dream of the upcoming events when, in fact, I couldn’t prevent it?

I sometimes asked: Are premonitions a gift or a curse?

Premonition is something I couldn’t explain. But I often believe there is a rational answer.

Life can be challenging, even in my husband’s homeland. I persevered by trying to live life according to God’s plan. I am blessed with a wealth of wisdom. I learned a new language, and despite some challenges, I acquired an excellent professional job. My husband and I built a new home with comforts, and we raised our family - a treasure that keeps us firmly bound to each together, even amidst the hardships of life. 

I sometimes thought I had been punished because of my reticence, doubts, and anger toward a mysterious man who appeared in the public jeepney in Butuan, where I was a passenger in February 1980. He spoke to me mentally in a parable that was hard to understand. I felt contradicted. It was as if he knew me and whom I would choose for my husband.

Who was he who had dared to interfere in my life?

This question persisted in my mind for more than three decades.

I only know who he was, as I discovered while writing this memoir. It took me many long years to understand that he was an angel or the messenger of God.

Today, when I think of all the adventures I have lived through, some of which could have been fatal, I know I have been rescued sometimes in extremis by the divine hand. I sometimes thought that my destiny was already written since my birth – or even perhaps before I was conceived.

I strove to survive while battling against life-threatening experiences such as: when the boat was about to capsize in the middle of a storm in the Pacific Ocean; a near plane crash in Bangkok; being crushed by the crowd in panic during Pope John Paul II’s visit to Manila in 1981; and I was kidnapped in Cebu, but managed to escape from a network of criminals and rapists, among other difficult situations.

I’ve realised God never left me.

Butuan 1952 – 1957

Butuan, my birthplace urbanised city in the Philippines, is located in the north-eastern part of the Agusan valley in the Mindanao, the third region of the Philippines sprawled across the Agusan River; as the city's principal industries were logging, lumber, and sawmill companies. By the late 1940s to the 1970s, Butuan's specialised in timber and gave it the title ‘The Timber City of the South.' The area's plentiful trees invited many investors to the city, which I qualified as both-developed and underdeveloped. 

We speak Tagalog, our national language and English. We also spoke the Butuanon, Visayan, Cebuano, and Boholano dialects in my family at home. My ancestors spoke Spanish, the official language of my country under colonial rule, which lasted more than three centuries. There are some 120 to 187 languages spoken in the Philippines. An archipelago of 7,641 islands, of which only about 2,000 are inhabited. They are clustered into three major island groups: Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. And I belong to the north of Mindanao, in the city of Butuan, with a metro area population of 371,000 in 2021.

Our home stood near the Sawmill and Lumber Yard entrance, where my father worked as a security guard at night and maintenance in charge during the day.

Fire or flood often ruined Butuan due to vast deforestation that started in the areas before I was born. This situation got worst in the 1960s. Because of the frequent floods, the city was plunged into chaos, confusion and famine.

It was a beautiful Sunday when I was born on the Feast of the Epiphany in 1952. I was delivered at home at 10:30 in the morning, weighing six pounds but uncontestably healthy. My devout Catholic Mama said she considered attending church, not knowing she would deliver a baby that day. In honour of the feast where the three kings offered gifts to the newly born Jesus, my father quickly named me after one of the kings, Balthazar. Excited, he registered me at the Registrar's Office in the Municipal Hall of Butuan as Baltazara Serohijos. 

Eldest, followed by seven younger siblings. I was followed by Dan, born on December 13 of the same year, by Ernesto in 1953, who died a few days after his birth. I can still remember how Mama cried. Then my younger siblings were born: Naomie on August 26, 1955; Nolwen on January 1957; Amelie and Ashley on September 1, 1961; Melchor on January 6, 1963; and Imelda on June 1, 1968.

As a security guard in the lumber yard, Tatay Eco carries a big shotgun throughout the night. Its length reached his knees, hanging on his right shoulder. It was an awe-inspiring sight for me. And when he is at home, he would turn it behind our bedroom door, allowing me to see it every night and day whenever he is not on duty. I even told myself I could carry it and know how heavy it was one day. Every New Year's Eve, Tatay Eco would fire three bullets in the air that formed like colourful fire flowers in the sky. How lovely it was! That I would cry in disappointment whenever Tatay stopped firing.

I am only allowed by my employer to use three bullets at a time, except on New Year's Eve, he explained.

A week before we moved to our new home in Cabadbaran, Mama was so busy packing our clothes and other things. She had done several boxes when she suddenly waved her hands.

Look, Bebe, beckoned Mama.

This is one of the first clothes you wore when you were born, she said, mocking me tenderly.

I was astonished by what I learned from her; I couldn’t believe the tiny shirt was mine. I placed some papers inside it, which looked like a little flat, empty bottle of Tanduay Rhum that stood on our kitchen table. I was struck with strange melancholy feelings, thinking I was born a tiny baby.

Yes, you were tiny but healthy, Mama said proudly.

I did not have a hard time during labour and delivery; you just went out alone. There were few tasks for the midwife.

Everyone at home was surprised that you were already born when they returned from the church that Sunday morning, she proudly explained.

She was so thankful to God that she completed the nine days of Novena prayers every year just before my birthday. 

Maybe, I was significantly affected by my mother's stress and anxieties because she got pregnant even before marriage. She panicked when she learned she was pregnant. They were not ready to face the situation, Tatay kept my mother aloof from her elder sister, but my mother’s family pursued them. Mama was not 18 years old when she got pregnant and was probably too young to cope with all the stress she experienced exposed to an increased risk of miscarriage, but Mama delivered me usually. However, I admit that I also have that specific genetic vulnerability; that is, I was born as an underweight baby. Now that I understand why I have problems controlling my emotion, I would say that being too; stiff when I am angry or nervous and vulnerable in a stressful environment are probably side effects of my mother's anxieties.

Paradise on Earth 1956-1961

Ispent a happy childhood in my mother’s land, in the beautiful natural environment of Mabini, in Cabadbaran, Agusan del Norte, where I experienced my first intangible connection with the Holy Spirit. It was also where I experienced my first premonition dream at age five; I enjoyed schooling affluent with religious and spiritual guidance. Every day I counted my powerful blessings.

A few days after Nolwen's birth, we left our house in New Asia, Butuan City, for Mabini to live with my grandmother (Nanay Pantay). It is about 29 kilometres (driving distance) from Butuan, my birthplace.   

During the first night, Dan, Nelly, and I all slept on the wooden floor of our living room, under a wide mosquito net made of cotton in a purple-red colour, while baby Nolwen was with Mama on their bed. The night was so quiet. Unlike in Butuan, we did not hear cars, motorcycles, and lorries in the street. Instead, we heard high-pitched songs and bird squeals I had never known. Another sound early in the morning that woke me was the top-ko. I had never heard it before; Nanay said it was a giant lizard. There were so many animals in this Mabini environment: goats, pigs, cats, and dogs, and we had a chicken coop in our large backyard. Behind the house were the goats in their shelter, cows in the open field near the valley behind the tropical bamboo, and the carabaos wallowed in their puddles. A variety of plants and fruit trees surrounded Nanay’s house. At the end of the yard were the thick groves of giant bamboo trees and a clear stream running from the valley. For me, it was a natural paradise.

Nanay’s house was just a few meters from the paved road, which had a narrow stony walking path alongside. But instead of hearing vehicles on the road during the day, horses would occasionally pass, pulling a caratella or kalesa [small carts on two or four wheels driven by one person]. Only a few people owned a kalesa in our barrio. Most people walked downtown. For them, time did not matter when they were not working on their farms.

I was curious whether the people living in Mabini ever realised how lucky they were. I was stupefied seeing my new environment full of beautiful nature celebrating God's creation. How grateful I was to have had the opportunity to experience the magical surroundings of that magnificent world. I immediately loved Mabini and quickly adjusted to the way of life. I was warmly welcomed by the other children, who were very friendly and showed curiosity to meet a little girl like me. Our relationships became deep and more vigorous every day. I loved their simplicity, and they talked to me sincerely and innocently. I was entertained by their simple ways of living, homemade toys, and means of recreation, and it seemed to me that they had everything they needed in that beautiful little world. I was fortunate to be a part of Mabini, now becoming a big, prosperous and joyful city. Later it was a place that gave me many advantages in life, a true paradise on earth.

I have these memories of that lovely place, preserving my happy childhood. It was a place full of space and freedom with the beauty of nature, a position that was good for my health and was undoubtedly an ideal place for me to live and grow.

The spring water was everywhere, often flowing directly from the hillside. It provided sustainable irrigation for the farmers. The abundant spring water supplied unlimited safe drinking and cooking water; people used it without cravings or worries, all due to the power of nature. Artesian wells flowed permanently day and night, providing water accessible to everyone. Waters formed into streams, nourishing the bamboo groves, which grew on both sides at the edge of our mesmerising backyard filled with fruit trees and scented flowers like the white Sampaguita that climbed along our bamboo fence around the house, fragrant roses, and others. The bamboo grew so high and dense that we used to take the shoots with us to eat and sometimes to sell. Mabini possessed rich soil, which helped all the vegetation grow healthy. Modern technology, industrialisation, and international commercialisation did not yet exist in Mabini, so the air was clean, and there was little pollution. 

The farmers worked with carabaos; they could plough the different fields of rice, corn, sugar cane, pineapple, banana plantations, and so on, with little risk of thirst or starvation. Other natural resources like streams, rivers, lakes, and farmland were all abundant in Mabini. The working animals remained strong despite their daily hard labour, empowered by a healthy environment.

People did not experience many illnesses, even though they only practised natural medicine. For centuries, they relied on natural techniques and herbal remedies to treat conditions and infections. They cured the sick and fought disease by using medicinal plants and trees, for example, boiling the bark of a tree to drink like tea to cure diarrhoea; this had an unusually bitter taste. I cried when Nanay once forced me to drink a full glass of this tea when I was ill. But potent medicine that it was, I was cured almost immediately, although I never wanted to taste it again. Everything from the common cold to life-threatening conditions such as cancer, diabetes, high blood pressure, and heart disease were successfully treated without modern medical equipment.

I was privileged to witness my elders cure illnesses using these natural remedies. Once, I saw my neighbour’s health improvement, suffering from broken bones, and my brother Dan's broken arm. I watched Nanay use the sap of a tree’s leaf as eye drops; she proudly never wore a pair of eyeglasses throughout her long life, not for reading or long-distance. Two of my grandmother's great-aunts, who were fans of natural techniques and legal medicines, were said to have lived to 135 years old.

Most women in our barrio used herbal extracts from plants and trees. They used coconut milk as hair shampoo and papaya leaves to clean the skin. Nature provided our ancestors with sufficient food and shelter. There was no modernisation, but people were happy and contented with what they had and improved their lives in the ways they could. Indeed, they gained significant benefits from nature, as they lived a green lifestyle, which is probably the main reason for their longevity. We still needed to consider using industrial or chemical products such as fertilisers or insecticides as they made them themselves. 

HOUSES WERE SELDOM closed or locked; people left their homes with windows and entrance doors wide open. I had never heard of the fear of robbers, kidnappers, or rapists. Parents allowed their children to roam freely outdoors. For me, that felt like true freedom. Everyone respected other people’s rights and responsibilities. As a child, I was free to move around our barrio and downtown without fear, as everyone knew everyone, and each one was responsible for the others. The news would spread quickly in the neighbourhood despite the absence of telephones and radios.

Dan and I spent much time playing outside after finishing our daily assigned chores. We did not have toys bought from the shops, but we used to make them ourselves with what we found in nature, such as wood, stones, tree stalks, lianas, abaca fibres, rubber, string, and others. Aside from chasing insects like butterflies and grasshoppers, sometimes Dan would not stop his foolishness. He made a Slingshot with a handle, a Y-shaped branch from a Guava tree and elastic bands (that hem the old bicycle) to strike the hive. He targeted the Jackfruit tree where the bees made their hive in one giant sweet juicy jackfruit. Then an angry swarm of bees chased him and stung him repeatedly.

"Ayy, ayy! He yelled.

He was punished. The bees were disturbed while making their hives.

He made his spinning top out of a Guava branch; he played it on our floor that I had just scrubbed with a coconut husk for almost one hour to make it shined, and the spinning top left some marks or smears on the floor.

I was so busy that it kept me happy, my mind nourished with the magnificent gifts of our natural environment. I was, however, an active child longing to be freed and unconscious of some danger amid the natural environment. I rode amazingly on the baby Carabao’s back, where I felt the fantastic way of travelling that made my journey more wonderful. I was, however, thrown away during an unexpected galloping. The carabao as an animal fascinated me. It is a swampy domestic water buffalo native to the Philippines. They are slightly bigger than a cow and have more enormous horns; they are solid and hardworking animals, considered the country's national animal, that helps the farmers to plough their rice fields.

I still remember the last time I went there and how unknowingly I faced mortal danger. I was sitting on the bough of the guava tree, rich with abundant fruit, and it didn’t give me skin allergies while the afternoon heat was more than 40 degrees in the open field. The broad leaves of the tree I climbed protected me from the sun. A swift breeze of fresh air took away any discomfort from the day’s heat. I sang while rising, feeling the freedom.

I have suddenly been attracted to a fruit three times the size of a normal, a typical one so different, shining with a beautiful yellow colour. But I had to pick it up to the tree’s peak. I was about to grasp it with my left hand while my right hand was carefully held, but when I gazed at it again, I discovered it was not a guava fruit!  It was moving and stretching. At first, I thought it was just the effect of the sun and the shadows of quivering leaves that had tricked my eyes and prevented me from seeing clearly; it was expanding lengthwise, and something was growing in and out, emitting a dreadful hissing sound.

Oh my God, it was the tongue of the snake! Ohh, no, it’s a snake!  I feared.

I fell. As I dropped, the branches swung violently, bouncing up and down. The snake was ejected from the guava tree and dropped just before me on the ground, full of twigs, small fallen branches, and tough grasses. I stiffened. I would have liked to have sprinted away, but I was afraid to do a single step while the giant snake was there, facing me with its mouth wide open. Its sharp fangs fixated on me, and its green eyes focused on me wickedly. Its tongue was stretching towards me. I was petrified. I prayed for God to send me His angel to save me from a fatal bite. I was frozen with my feet rooted in the ground, having lost their strength to carry me. This was always my problem: I could never move when dazed with terror.

It was a massive snake with different colours: yellow, brown, and cream, with yellow-green eyes. Somehow I snapped out of mear and rushed away, jumping over the thick grasses and broken small branches while screaming as loudly as possible. I did not know where the snake was, thinking it could move faster than me; though I couldn’t leap up, it couldn’t pass under the branches to go more quickly. My sandals slipped off due to the wet grasses, leaving me to run barefoot. But despite the pain in the soles of my feet, I continued to run until I was exhausted and felt faint, unable to go further. I sat crying on the big tree trunk on the ground, hammered my feet to the bottom to say if there was no snake around and kept praying until I felt sleepy.

My Lord Jesus Christ, please come and save me.

A man on the back of his Carabao passed by, sent by my angel.

This is not my usual way to return home, but my friend, the carabao, drove me here, said the man.

I found a snake just near you and beheaded it. An eagle will be pleased.

Childhood and Mystical Experiences

A mysterious white dove - 1957

Before dawn, I was suddenly awakened by a weird noise that captured my full attention. It was as if there was a whirlwind, roaring thunder, and fire blasted with a sound of mighty water cascade dropping into our living room, yet, there was no fire and no water. It felt like sunrays and moonlight simultaneously entered at home; I was surprised to witness this in the early morning, with incredibly bright white lights remaining, but it didn’t hurt my eyes. But it was still dark outside, and all our windows and doors were closed. Only five years old, I was confused.

Where did all those bright white lights come from?

It was amazing. I was curious and wanted to leave the mosquito net to understand it. No one else was awake to see it. There was a big ball of bright white light moving toward me. I wanted to wake up my mother and grandmother to have them witness the phenomenon, but I was unable to speak or move. I watched this ball of light while kneeling in a half-seated position and waited.  It was so beautiful, as if I was watching a magnificent film. Silence reigned; I heard only my heartbeats and my breath as the light came closer to me, the ball of light transforming into white rays. I could start to distinguish the shape of a head, but it wasn’t easy while the bright light covered its whole body. Out emerged A white dove emerged, shimmering light that glittered, spread, and sprinkled throughout the bedroom. My head felt full of new knowledge but without the power to express it. I was overwhelmed with joy, observing the white light expanding in our house, coming in the door  ... it was a magnificent white dove.

Where does it come from? I asked myself. I waited excitedly as it moved closer. My heart pounded intensely fast, but still, I couldn't move. I wanted to shout to call it nearer to me, as I was eager to touch it, but the closer it came, the slower its movements became, and the bright white light gradually diminished.

When it approached me, I heard a length of the sound, like it was tapping its beak to a microphone, creating an echo. I knew the white dove had entered my room and come closer, reaching in front of me, but it looked so tired. The glittering bird stopped walking and faced me. For a brief moment, we both stared at each other.

It was as if I were being analysed and could do nothing but wait. Despite the presence of my family, I felt alone in the house with the company of that brilliant white dove, and I couldn’t move for a while.

Eventually, I raised the mosquito net, but the beautiful white dove disappeared. I wondered where it had gone. I searched for it everywhere in the house, in vain. However, I held onto an unusual feeling of joy. After that visit, I was both so happy and, at the same time, tormented with curiosity. 

Why did it appear to me? I kept on asking myself.

Can I see it again in the coming days?

I was full of confusion when it disappeared and full of hope at the same time; maybe next time, it wouldn’t disappear. No one could take away this experience from my head. I kept on checking around the home. I sometimes woke up at dawn to see if the magnificent white dove would revisit me, but it was in vain. All my thoughts were with the beautiful dove, and I was sure nothing could compare to those brilliant white rays I saw that day.

Nanay was still asleep in her bed next to mine in the same room, and I woke her up to inform her about the visit of the glittering white dove. I repeatedly described it to Nanay and my Mama, who answered simultaneously.

Oh, so lucky of you, Bebe.

What a privilege! You have seen the Holy Spirit.

They said it together as if singing in chorus. Then they both made a sign of a cross, the same manner when we prayed. But it was not the answer I had expected from them. My curiosity remained unanswered. At age five, I was too young to understand what they told me and what they wanted to explain. Every time I see a picture of a white dove, it reminds me of the most beautiful sparkling white dove that appeared to me and remained with me in spirit throughout my childhood. Since that day, strange phenomena have heightened my senses in my life.

Had I got a spiritual connection after the visit of the sparkling white dove at home?

As a young child, I discovered a problematic ability to handle it, like when a person in front of me was not telling the truth, and I could sense this straight away. Sometimes I would interrupt the person talking before they could utter the lying words, which might make them unkind to me. I could understand their feelings, as I believe many truths are hurtful and embarrassing, especially when shared with people. However, remaining silent when I feel an urgency to act is always a tricky way to prevent others from committing irreparable errors. Because of this, I have had moments of high stress, anger, and disappointment in my childhood years. 

The killer lightning: a premonition dream that came true

Irecovered from the wound, and a small piece of sharp bamboo pierced my right knee. I was holding the ropes tied to the three young goats, and I was pulled by them when they ran so fast, frightened by the rain. I fell into a sharp bamboo stick. The pain disappeared so that I could walk again as usual. I would whine when my mother refused to take me with her. I was fed up and bored of being alone at home, lonely almost daily. Although I loved staying with Nanay, I couldn’t avoid thinking about my father. Why was he always away from us?

Why didn’t we join him in Butuan City and live with him?

I was upset, but I didn’t know why.

I dreamed things before they happened, and Mama said I started having premonition dreams and nightmares when I was four. I also had nightmares during the day. Nanay once said I was five when several premonitory means occurred in Mabini. All I knew was that I was not attending school yet. Still, I could never forget my nightmare during my afternoon nap about the roaring and deafening thunder and a powerful electric lightning bolt. Here is the dream:

The whirlwind carried away the white clouds, suddenly becoming dark and heavy, and the temperature rose. Darker shadows pretended to go, and the sky returned clear; now, the dark clouds were gone but quickly replaced by even darker clouds, and the scene was repeated. Clouds and winds were turning around the sky. The whirlwind was fast approaching and coming closer. I wondered what would make it stop. After a while, the road was empty and clean, with no more leaves flying over, no more vehicles passing by, nobody crossing the road, and no people walking along the sidewalks. There were no