Ma-cho waters
Driving through San Fernando, La Union, most people miss a sign reading “Ma-cho Temple.” Others see it and tend to get startled and then shrug it off as another curiosity.
If you have time to spare, you might want a side trip—admission is free as far as I can remember—and drive into a bend toward the top of the hill. There, you find a breathtaking view of the West Philippine Sea (aka the South China Sea by the mainland Chinese).
Let me clarify early enough that the name Ma-cho has nothing to do with masculinity or anything generated in another context as in macho entertainment.
Far from it. The object venerated is female, one who protects seafarers.
The veneration of Matsu (known in the Philippines as Ma-cho) is quite widespread. (The Matsu Islands refer to a small archipelago of 37 islands in the Taiwan Strait, between mainland China and Taiwan.)
I remember seeing many Chinese carrying statues of Matsu when they made pilgrimages to mainland China.
The La Union mountain top temple is actually Taoist, not Buddhist, and is one of many such temples in China and Southeast Asia that seek Matsu’s protection from the many perils of maritime travel.
Take note too that Matsu is female and yet has a reputation for rescuing people out at sea. Legend has it that even as an adolescent girl, she was an adept swimmer. That should inspire our young women.
I think the veneration of Matsu might be worth more research and maybe even be used to promote the need for safer sea travel, especially after the recent events of two varsity basketball players in Aurora.
Last week, Taiwan and parts of Japan, mainland China, and the Philippines were battered by Typhoon Bavi (international name). The Taiwanese issued warnings about Bavi, but some Taiwanese residents complained it was overkill.
But when I tuned in to RedNote, a YouTube-like streaming service, I was overwhelmed by the footage. It turns out Bavi was the strongest typhoon in Taiwan in over 30 years. People who dared to go outdoors found themselves clinging to trees and electric posts. Motorcycles were swept down the streets, and cars were stranded in the flooded streets.
One piece of footage I will never forget showed a man walking behind a van amid the rains. He stopped and then fell to his knees and kowtowed as Asians do while praying. Then he stood up and jumped to the top of the van and looked in different directions. I think he was figuring out the weather, or looking for familiar landmarks, praying, or all of the above. He could have been a sailor calling out to Matsu.
More touching was a scene where a man walked by a raging riverbank (or was it a seaside?), then reached down into the water and plucked out a child! The child was screaming in fear, but made it to dry land and safety. That wasn’t the end, though. The man continued walking by the water and suddenly plucked out another child, bringing the child to safety!
By coincidence, that same night, I was watching an old American TV series, “ER” (Emergency Room); the episode featured a pediatrician heading home during a storm when suddenly a child ran to his vehicle shouting for help. The child’s brother was caught in an underground tunnel where floodwaters were rushing in.
The pediatrician instructs one of the brothers to make a 911 call even as he takes steps to retrieve the younger brother from the tunnel and keep the kid from drowning. An air ambulance eventually makes the rescue.
The televised drama and broadcast of Taiwan’s newscasts were all too real and left me uneasy, reminding me of childhood experiences. There was a time when our family lived in San Juan (Manila, a place with frequent floods). Our street name was Riverside, and when we had floods, we kept in touch with neighbors through the windows, passing on food to neighbors.
At one point, my father unhinged the doors in the house, thinking of using them as rescue boats.
When I got to college, my first semester was marked by typhoons. I volunteered for relief operations with UP Student Catholic Action, or UPSCA. My parents reluctantly gave me permission to join the mission, knowing we had to return the kindness of neighbors.
We learned the realities of floods and of hunger and disease outbreaks. No, it was not until more than a decade later that we learned the full realities of greed and avarice enriching politicians and flood control contractors.
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michael.tan@inquirer.net
