the divine chicken broth

In the heat of that summer morning, as the sun’s rays penetrate the window, I wake up to the surprise of an unnerving sight: our bus was only inches from off a cliff, as the mountain dirt road we were on was barely wide enough that a simple mistake maneuvering would lead to a tragic death.
We were literally walking on a tight rope—a less-than-promising beginning to a trip that would have me face- to-face with a hundred skulls and a mummy in the mountains of Kabayan town, Benguet, Philippines; a how’d- I- get- here moment if there ever was one.
“Alright, you don’t have to pay,” said the curator of the museum. He had no change for the hundred peso bill I had. Exhibited there was a rare cultural treasure, the mummified remains of an Ibaloi, the indigenous group in that region.
Regardless of the fact that the mummy was curled into the fetal position, it still looked small, approximately two feet in length. What was remarkable though was, unlike those of the Great Pyramids, this one bared its entirety. Immediately noticeable was that the skin was so well in tact that the intricate tattoo patterns covering the arms and legs were still visible.
“Fascinating isn’t it,” said the curator. I could not help but agree.
With the light breeze blowing and birds chirping out the museum’s veranda, the curator and I had a brief discussion about how the mountains in the background laid rest to dozens more mummies. Mummification was a common pre-Christian practice of the Ibaloi, he explains.
Much later I would find myself standing beside a huge rock, moments removed from having an eerie photo op with skulls arranged horizontally along the sides of a small cave along the way. Getting here meant an hour’s walk up and down the slopes of a steep mountain.
As big as this rock was, crevices were carved and widened to accommodate several mummies. Visible from the outside were the boat-shaped coffins containing them, with vandalism spread all over. A ladder was also provided for anyone who wishes to see the mummies face-to-face. I decided not to do so not because of the curse they supposedly had, but as a sign of simple respect.
I elected instead to come down to the stream below for a quick dip. I wet my feet first to have a feel of the water before plunging in. The cool water was welcome refreshment.
The next day I’d be once again in that frightful dirt road headed home. With a bit of luck I’d be avoiding the fate of that bus that fell a week earlier.