Whang-Od: The Last Tattoo Artist

Whang-Od, 98, is often described as the last mambabatok

How did a 98-year-old woman in the rural Filipino mountains become one of the
most famous tattoo artists in the world? We travel north to Banaue to meet the
ButBut tribe—and discovers an ancient tradition indelibly inked into our culture

Whang-Od walks past her tomb every day when she leaves the house. Dug out into
the damp ground, the 98-year-old admits that she often forgets it’s there altogether.
Rumour has it, the village children don’t realise its purpose and sometimes use it for
hide and seek. Only her teenage grand-nieces treat it with trepidation. “Sometimes
when I see it, I have to look the other way,” says Elayang, 18, who shares her
elderly relative’s wicked sense of humour, her warm and quiet smile, and ink-stained
fingertips. “My Apo is the strongest, bravest woman I’ve ever known. I’ve spent my
whole life trying to be just like her. It’s like she’s the foundation of our whole
community. We all know that when she dies, everything will change.”

Elayang isn’t exaggerating. The oldest tattoo artist in the world, and the first female
tattoo artist in the Philippines, Whang-Od isn’t so much an inspiration as an
institution—as much a part of the ButBut tribe’s culture and history as the ancient
Kalinga mountainside they call home.

Indeed, every week, an average of 300 urban visitors make the 19-hour pilgrimage
from Manila to Buscalan to pay 500 pesos and plead with the wrinkled matriarch to
dip a thorn into a thick black paste of cooking soot and permanently sign their skin.
Beads of blood bubble as she hammers its point with a wand of bamboo and pierce
virgin epidermis to form wavy, uneven lines of teeny tiny dots.

The village of Buscalan is located in the mountains of the Kalinga province

It’s an exercise in both pain management and lung capacity. A nauseatingly

serpentine ascent by coach is punctuated with a vertiginously steep hour’s long hike
through wet rice paddies, sending day trippers’ flip-flopped feet slipping on the worn
down stepping stones as one of the tribe’s 76 gazelle-like local guides waits
patiently ahead. There’s no phone signal for smartphones, wifi doesn’t exist, and
villagers communicate across the hillside via antennae-d walkie-talkies. “We know
we live in a different era from Manila and Cebu or countries like England and
America,” says resident Richard Weber, who was born and raised in the village in
the 1970s. “I think it says a lot about Whang-Od if this many people have heard
about her, even though we’re this cut off.”

Indeed, with white hair tied back in a black “tribal streetwear” headscarf and solid
silver earrings shaped to mimic the female reproductive system, Whang-Od may be
less than five feet tall, but her reputation carries weight. Filipino tourists travel from
as far afield as Mindanao and Palawan to meet the most famous nonagenarian in
South East Asia, and international backpackers clutching British and Brazilian
passports spend thousands of dollars as they structure whole holidays around their
quest for tribal ink.

Today there are more or less 20 different traditional designs on offer

“I’ve been wanting to come here for about three years,” says Daniel, 22, from
France, as he sits on a smooth bamboo bench outside one of the village’s seven
makeshift tattoo studios. “I first read about Whang-Od and her tattoos on a travel
blog, and then I started to see more and more posts about the village on social
media, and I thought ‘Man, I must visit this place.’” He already has a couple of other
inkings, which he got in Paris and Toulouse. “But I almost wish I’d waited for this to
be my first. I love how much meaning is ascribed to each symbol, and the
opportunity to meet Whang-Od is incredibly cool. She’s even older than my gran.”
He began queuing for this particular tattoo at 7am, and it takes eight hours before
he’s finally seen, by which point he’s given up trying to choose his own design from
the 20 emblems available. Whang-Od doesn’t mind—she prefers choosing for her
customers anyway—and quickly identifies a diamond shaped crab, representing
travel and adventure. “I love it,” Daniel says later, admiring his swollen bicep. “It

hurts like hell, but it’s so cool.”

Whang-Od laughs at the audible awe of her customers, who frequently stutter in her
presence and occasionally even burst into tears when they realise she’ll be
completing their tattoos. “I’m no different from any of the other women in our village,”
she says, declining all offers of a chair in favour of squatting on the floor, arms
wrapped neat around her knees; gold sequined ballet pumps pointed forwards to
catch the light. “I just have a slightly different job. And I’ve lived a little longer than
most of them.”

Whang-Od tattoos tourists in her studio from 7am until sundown every day of the week. On average,
she completes between 10 and 30 tattoos every day
A little longer than all of them, in fact. Whang-Od isn’t the oldest resident of the
village—that accolade belongs to a 106-year-old blacksmith round the corner, who
continues to spend his days sharpening blades hammered by his sons and
grandsons. Both he and Whang-Od own certificates proving their birth dates,
although there’s some dispute over whether or not they may have been registered a
year or two late. But over the course of the 83 years since she started working,
Whang-Od appears to have changed the course of Buscalan’s future.

Thanks to the tattoo artists, tourists make their way up the mountain every day and give residents the
chance to earn extra income through accommodations and selling of handcrafted objects

“I didn’t plan to do this when I grew up,” she explains. “When I was little, girls only
had the option of becoming housewives. But my uncle and father were the tribe’s
tattoo artists, and when they became too old, they asked me to take over so that we
could still afford to buy rice.” She was 15 years old at the time, and had already
been out of school for three years because of local conflicts. “My family didn’t have
any money for food or clothes or education,” she remembers. “People come to our
village now and look around and think, ‘oh, they must be very poor,’ but they have
no idea. We may still live a simple life, but we can eat three meals a day now.
Before, we struggled to eat one.”
 Tattoo artist Emily Oggay, 24 years old

The tattoos originally represented warfare and beauty. Men were inked after
completing their first kill, while women covered their bodies with snakeskin and
fertility symbols upon reaching puberty. They weren’t intended as a tourist attraction.
“That happened by mistake,” explains Weber. “Every year a few trekkers would
stumble across the village and see our tattoos, so word got out very gradually. Ten
years ago, a documentary maker called the ‘Tattoo Hunter’ turned up, and asked to
film Whang-Od. After that, everything seemed to change overnight.” Whang-Od
nods. “Every design has a meaning,” she says. “They protect us, and make us more
powerful in our own skin. When visitors arrived and said they wanted to pay me to
tattoo their skin too, I thought, ‘OK, you are not a ButBut, but why shouldn’t you be
powerful and protected too?’”

Whang- Od is proud of the new generation of girls continuing the tradition

It’s not cultural appropriation, she argues; rather a exchange of tattooing traditions
that has even seen artists from Australia and Singapore make the trip to photograph
their electromagnetic rotary machines next to Whang-Od’s Tupperware box of dried
thorns and bamboo sticks. Several of the younger girls in the village have
Westernised tattoos on their ankles and thighs, and one modern design—depicting a
heartbeat morphing into a heart and a cross—has proved so popular within the
community that it’s now offered on the official menu. “I don’t like that one so much,”
says Whang-Od. “But if that’s what the visitors want then it’s good that they can get
it.” She directs those requests to Elayang and her sister, Grace, 21, who sit quietly
behind her from sunrise until sunset, imitating her technique and illustrating those
their great-aunt doesn’t have time to see.

Tattoo artist Claire Sagmayao, 18 years old

“I don’t have any children of my own, so I invest my earnings and my time on my

great nieces,” Whang-Od explains, adding that she refers to both of them as her
granddaughters, just as they call her their grandma. “I know I won’t be able to do this
for much longer. My back hurts when I sit all day, and when the sun goes down it is
getting harder and harder to see. So it is very important to me that they continue my
work and they continue to make Buscalan successful even when I am gone.” In the
meantime, she has busied herself with community development—spending her
savings on building weatherproof concrete houses in place of traditional corrugated
tin huts, speaking up in village meetings to ensure the women are represented, and
even bringing the first washing machine up the mountain to take pride of place next
to her bed. “We needed four men to carry it,” she says proudly. “It was very heavy.”

Whang-Od with all the village girls who are being taught
the tradition of the Kalinga tattoo

“We don’t know how long we have left with Apo,” says Elayang, slowly. “I don’t want
to think about that unless I have to. But in the meantime I just want to spend every
second with her, asking questions and listening to everything she has to say. She
has changed everything for our village. I hope she knows how grateful we are for
that.”

EDITOR’S NOTE: On 27 February 2018, the Philippine Senate adopted the

resolution filed by Senators Sonny Angara and Nancy Binay to award the title
Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan or National Living Treasure to the renowned tribal
tattoo artist Whang-Od of Kalinga. She is 99 years old—possibly older—and is said
to have inked over 20,000 people from across the world.

https://ph.asiatatler.com/life/whang-od-the-last-tattoo-artist

Chasing Whang–od, the oldest Kalinga

mambabatok
THERE is an incessant ticking as you near a hut at the back of Whnag–od’s house, like the sound of a
giant clock set next to your ear.

As you near her working hut, Maria Oggay more popularly known to the world by her native name
“Whang–od” sits calmly on a small homemade bangkito, as people flood and invade her small house
which has been improved and extended to accommodate visitors daily, while tapping the skin and marks
her patrons with her signature.

Whang–od, from the Butbut tribe in Kalinga remains single, childless and with a sense of humor one
would not expect for the world revered mambabatok, (traditional Kalinga tattooist) as you approach her
with reverence, she will stare back at you with her old eyes, slowly warming up to smile breaking the
unease of the mystery of her person.

By her side is her grandniece, 33–year–old Grace Palicas and 17–year–old Elyang Wigan who have
learned the art of traditional tattoo and included in the stable of her trusted apprentices, flanking her in the
makeshift hut, where she does her work.

Whang–od’s ink is composed of the mixture of charcoal and water that will be tapped into the skin
through a thorn end of a lemon or pomelo tree.

The hand tapped tattoo in Kalinga the technique called “batok” dating back to thousand years and is said
to be more painful than a tattoo machine.

Whang – od or Fang –od as spelled and pronounced in the village is a paradox which a multitude of her
fans created, which the community has propagated and the obscurity her small village is situated.

Rumored to be the oldest mambabatok and the last of the breed, Whang –od cannot prove it. She has no
birth certificates to attest she is on the brink of turning a 100 but she does not care, she smiles when asked
how old she is, leaving it for you to decide.

Whang-od is also tauted to be the last living traditional tattoo artist in the province, which is easily
dispelled by the entire community she has taught the ancient art and accounts of locals which say there
are more tattoo artists in neighboring villages, but none as famous as the revered Whang–od.

Her house can be seen at the opening trail leading to her Buscalan village in the Municipality of
Tinglayan at Province of Kalinga. The hike from the two kilometer paved road where the vehicle will stop
and leave you to your own walking – hiking skills will take another hour or two depending on your
reliance to the heat and steep route.

When asked what her favorite food is, translated by her granddaughter Grace, she answered Cloud 9, a
local chocolate bar she eats while going about her work, but that day, beside her was a pack of Max blue
mints, that she pops in between tattoos.

Whang–od is unassuming, but will engage you with banter.

Eldest of a brood of seven, she takes care of her extended family of granddaughters, nieces and her
siblings.

Grace said Whang–od’s strength and longevity comes from her being childless.

“Buong buo pa ang lakas niya,” added Grace.

Whang – od smiles and laughs a lot, when you ask her why she never married she says it is her destiny or
‘gasat’ to be single and live a long life. Rumored to have had lovers along her lifetime, the old lady just
smiles through the banter over her love life.

A few houses away, lives Emily Oggay, one of the great grandchildren of Whang – od whom she has
taught the trade of tattooing.

Emily married into the family of the Oggay’s and has been taught by Whang – od the art of tattooing.
“This is my second year of tattooing, ginagawa ko sa oras na wala akong gawain sa bahay,” Emily said.

Emily said Whang–od will teach you as long as you are interested to learn, taking you to her home and
making you observe her work before guiding you into the craft.

Emily has two children and considers the craft Whang-od taught her as a way to augment her family’s
income, acknowledging the undeniable help the hoard of people coming to their small village gives the
community.

Along with the thriving tourism in the area are the almost sixty tour guides in the Busacalan area alone,
guiding visitors to the home of Whang–od or the close to a dozen apprentices she has taught.

In the area, there are also homestay programs for those who want to spend the night, a small eatery and
small stores within the village.

All the industries thrive with the popularity of Whang–od’s renowned tattoos, she however claims
nothing and is seemingly oblivious to the uproar she is causing.

The more than 90-year-old mambabatok is now being deliberated to become on the National Living
Treasures of the country by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, Whang–od relays she is
aware of the award that might be bestowed to her and claims, she welcomes it.
Curiously, Whang–od was never honored by her province neither by the village she has chosen to live in
all her life.

No recognition, no plaques, nor citations has been bestowed the lady the world reveres as the oldest and
last of the mambabatok.

If the NCCA confers her the Gawad sa Manlilikha ng Bayan (Gamaba) also known as the National Living
Treasures Award, it will be the first in her lifetime.

The Gamaba is conferred for citizens engaged in any traditional art uniquely Filipino whose distinctive
skills have reached such a high level of technical and artistic excellence and have been passed on to and
widely practiced by the present generation in the community with the same degree of technical and
artistic competence.

As Whang–od catches up with the millennium, we see droves trying to chase whatever legacy she offers
to pass on, awards may be due, but the old lady in Buscalan has never asked for all of this living in her
village peacefully, oblivious to the throngs trying to keep up with her.

https://www.sunstar.com.ph/article/102315/
Skin as archive of history,
culture, identity
After much prodding, a university
professor researching about tattoos got
herself tattooed, enduring the pain from a
lemon thorn dipped in charcoal, which a
92-year-old Kalinga woman, Whang-ud,
used in leaving a permanent snake figure
on her left shoulder.

Grimacing in pain, Analyn “Ikin”

Salvador-Amores was able to endure the one-hour session somehow, thanks, she says,
to Whang-ud’s comforting “ullalim” (a Kalinga chant).

Although her eyesight is poor, Whang-ud has been known in international media as
the “last” and “oldest” practitioner of Kalinga tattooing, a skill she learned solely by
observation.

Amores’ snake tattoo is not an ordinary ornamental design. It has a story, derived
from the epic of Banna, a legendary Kalinga hero who gifted snakeskin to
Lagkunawa, a woman he abducted and to whom he later proposed marriage.
The assistant professor of social anthropology at the University of the Philippines
(UP) Baguio authored “Tapping Ink, Tattooing Identities,” a 467-page
anthropological account about Kalinga tattoos. The book was launched at UP Baguio
in July.

Published by UP Press, the book examines tattoos as a “cutaneous (referring to the

skin) bodily archive for the Butbut people of Kalinga (province).”
The Butbut people are known for their boldness, courage and bravery. The slain
Macliing Dulag, who helped lead his tribe in fighting against the World Bank-funded
Chico River Dam project in the late 1970s and early 1980s during the reign of the late
President Ferdinand Marcos, was a Butbut chieftain.
Tattoos as repository

“Tattoos are inseparable from the person’s body, which in turn represents the Kalinga
self,” Amores writes. “Tattoos as markings can also be seen as remembrances on the
skin and a cutaneous ‘archive’—a repository of stored memories, remembrances and
other information. Essentially, tattoos record the biography of the wearer.”
One learns from the book the meanings of different tattoo designs. For instance, elders
say the snake pattern provides camouflage to enable a warrior to remain undetected
and safe from enemies during those days of tribal wars in Kalinga’s past.
The same snake tattoo serves as a talisman and body armor against enemy attack, or to
protect women from the spirit of the enemies of the “lalapuan” (blood feud) or
enemies of warring groups. This design, Amores notes, is found on the chests and
arms of both men and women.

Besides examining tattoos as imprints of the past, the author analyzes their decline,
continuity and transformation. Surprisingly, one reason for the decline is economics.
“Even if you go to the market in Tabuk (Kalinga’s provincial capital), these tattoos
cannot buy anything now. The vendors would refuse; these tattoos could not even buy
three heads of fish,” Amores quotes tattooed elder Pu-uyan.
Despite the view of the likes of Pu-uyan, Amores argues that the decline in status of
traditional tattoos is not solely due to a general loss of understanding or awareness of
tradition.
It reflects a simple change in preferences for new and different forms of tattoos, she
says.
So to suggest that tattooing is in “demise” or a “dying tradition,” as a foreign author
wrote in 2010, may not be entirely accurate, she says. “The practice has gained
renewed significance in the context of 21st century identity politics,” she notes.
Although traditional Kalinga tattooing, using thorns and charcoal, is declining,
traditional designs are being replaced by more figurative and graphic ones among the
Butbut people and in northern Luzon in general, Amores says.
The author also features a renewed interest in Kalinga tattoos, which helped non-
Kalingans and foreigners with Filipino blood trace and rediscover their “Filipino-
ness.”
Revival beyond Kalinga
“I was never fond of tattoos. I always believed I would never get one. But when my
brother came back from Buscalan (in Kalinga) with photos and new tattoos, I knew
immediately I had to pay a visit to Whang-ud. It was a memorable trip, especially as
the village is far and difficult to get to but more so because it was a privilege and
honor to be a recipient of such an old tradition,” Amores quotes Raphael Kiefer, a 26-
year-old Filipino-Swedish.
Filipino-American Peace Corps volunteer Reynaldo Pellos, 35, shares the same
experience.

“I searched for my Filipino roots by reading books on Philippine history and on

Internet sites that contained Filipino customs and traditions. When I read about
Whang-ud on the Internet, I felt my ‘Filipino-ness’ could be made permanent through
tattoos,” Pellos tells the author.
Love affair with tattoos
As a UP graduate student in 2000, Amores submitted three topics for her adviser to
consider.
One was about the “hilot” (traditional massage practitioner) as she was interested in
“exploring the Filipino touch.” The other was about “suman” (rice cakes) as her way
of rediscovering the “anthropology of food.”
The third—which, she says, “I was nervous about”—was on tattoos.
“For the two topics, I already made the rounds, visiting the hilots in Baguio for
massage and tasting and eating all the suman all over the Cordillera, [which gave me]
good data to start with,” she says.
But not for the tattoos. “I had a difficult time finding sources in the library about
Cordillera tattoos, or Philippine tattoos in general—at that time, there were scarce
literature on this subject,” she says.
Such curiosity and the need to know more about tattoos “piqued my interest to embark
on serious research on this least known subject in Philippine arts and culture,” she
says.
Amores’ thesis adviser, professor Francisco Datar, redirected her interest to study
tattoos instead. This brought her to Kalinga and to the Cordillera villages, finding and
talking to tattooed men and women in the region.
She pursued the same topic when she went to the University of Oxford for her
postgraduate studies in 2006. There, she looked at the cultural history of tattoos from
various archives. In 2008, she pursued her doctorate in social and cultural
anthropology at the same university.
Supervised by professor Robert Barnes and his wife, both renowned anthropologists
working on Southeast Asia, Amores pursued to research and write about what she felt
was lacking in available written literature about Philippine tattoos: How does it feel
getting tattooed? What is their significance? And why tattoo?
She found that most of the literature available were from visual sources, such as
drawings, illustrations and photographs based on missionary reports, colonial writings
and travelogues at the turn of the century.
Her research journey gave birth to “Tapping Ink, Tattooing Identities,” her first
dissertation. The book may yet be the most comprehensive anthropological account
about Kalinga tattoos written by a Filipino author.
http://newsinfo.inquirer.net/485029/skin-as-archive-of-history-culture-identity

The Many Faces of Whang-od, Philippines’

Legendary Tattooist

“I am a tattoo maker because I am poor.”

The irony of this statement hits you deep within your soul.

More so when you realize those were uttered in her native language by none other than Apo Whang-od, revered as
the last living “mambabatok,” and the guardian of an almost-extinct art form.

But for those who truly know and appreciate the traditional Kalinga tattoo, Whang-od is anything but poor. She may
not be officially recognized as such, but the nearly 100-year-old Whang-od (or Fang-od) is one of Philippines’
last living cultural treasures.
She’s been featured on CNN, National Geographic, and countless local and international magazines. The oldest
tattoo artist in the country was also featured in an exhibit entitled “Tattoo: Ritual, identity, obsession, art” held at
the Royal Ontario Museum in Canada.
Thanks to her popularity, throngs of tourists are now willing to endure 16 hours of travel from Manila to Whang-
od’s village in Buscalan, all for the rare opportunity of getting inked by the legendary tattooist.

The history of the Kalinga tattoo (variably called batuk, batok, or batek) is just as terrifying as it is
fascinating.

Kalinga warriors were known as fierce headhunters back in the day, and each tattoo on their skin represents every
person they had killed in a tribal war. In other words, the tattoo was–and still is–a symbol of bravery that separates
the weak Kalinga men from the more courageous and experienced warriors.

Designs vary, from the centipede in the arms for protection to the more complex eagle on the chest reserved only for
the bravest of men.

For the ladies, however, tattoos are a way to stand out from the crowd, a beautifying procedure long considered as a
rite of passage. Their arms are often covered by tattoos of snakeskin and rice grain patterns while their foreheads
decorated by equally beautiful designs of crosses, dots, and triangles.
Whang-od’s first tattoo, she recalls, was a ladder and a python, designs that have no meanings at all and
permanently inked on her skin so that she could “belong to the group.”

While the Kalinga tattoos have lost some of its ancient qualities over the years, the materials used by Whang-od
have remained the same. These include a coconut bowl where water, charcoal, and sweet potato are combined.

The resulting mixture is where a lemon or calamansi thorn attached to a bamboo stick is dipped. With every sound
produced by the bamboo stick hammering onto the other containing the thorn, a native tattoo done in the centuries-
old tradition is permanently inked on any willing person’s skin.

For many Filipinos, getting tattooed by Whang-od is a once-in-a-lifetime encounter worth including in one’s bucket
list. But just as every tattoo design has an underlying meaning, Whang-od the tattoo artist has an interesting story to
tell.

It is said that the empty space on her right wrist is reserved for the only man she loved. During WWII, the
Butbut Kalinga, of which Whang-od is a member, fought not only the Japanese forces but also the Philippine
soldiers who stole food from them.
Whang-od’s boyfriend was one of the casualties in the war, and she has never married since.

Today, the humorous but sometimes bad-tempered Apo Whang-od relies on the money she earns as a tattoo maker
for her daily sustenance. When not designing native tattoos, she is often seen tending her livestock, pounding rice, or
spending her time alone as if engaged in a deep thinking.

As Whang-od enters what could possibly be the final chapters of her life, only two people are said to have been
primed to follow in her footsteps.

But with Kalinga headhunting now extinct and the comforts of modern life-threatening to change their priorities, the
future of the traditional Kalinga tattoo art remains hazy at best.

To pay tribute to Whang-od and the fascinating art she helped shape, we’re displaying here some of the fascinating
photographs taken by our good friends from IBARRA Photography.

This rare look into her daily life paints a beautiful portrait of Apo Whang-od, an artist molded by traditions and a
Filipino now immortalized by her own art.
“She would make up early in the morning to do her usual routine. Eat breakfast then cooks meals for her
dog and pigs. She would rest for a bit before she entertains clients or guests for tattooes. For her, this is
just another day in her village.” © IBARRA Photography
“She could be seen going around the village mingling with the neighbors… or relatives. Buscalan is not
that big. Everybody knows everybody.” © IBARRA Photography
“A visit to Whang-Od’s house would not be complete without meeting her energetic and sweet guardian.
Hershey was donated by a visitor a long time ago. Both have already created a precious bond and those
were one of the few things people don’t know about the legendary artist.” © IBARRA Photography

“She would rest for a bit after mixing the ink and wait for the guest to choose his/her design. It
wasn’t easy for her since she’s still experiencing stomach cramps.” © IBARRA Photography
 “How about a sweet therapeutic smile before
the traditional tattoo procedure?” © IBARRA Photography
 “Whang Od and her legendary weapon.” © IBARRA
Photography

“The traditional tools of Whang Od.” © IBARRA

Photography
 “Mambabatok’s humble abode.” © IBARRA Photography

https://filipiknow.net/whang-od-tattoo-artist/

Meet Apo Whang-Od, the Last

Kalinga Tattoo Artist in the
Philippines

If there is one person who could best represent the rich

cultureof Kalinga, a province located in the far north of the
Philippines, it is none other than Whang Od, the oldest Filipino
tribal tattoo artist. Some even say she put Kalinga on
the Philippine map of must-visit places for local and foreigners
alike. In fact, many people brave the cold weather and the 10-
hour trip to the mountains just to get inked by her.

Whang-od Oggay is known as the last mambabatok (Kalinga tattooist) from the tribe
of Butbut in Buscalan, Kalinga. She has been tattooing for the past 80 years —
including head hunters of the indigenous tribe, at the beginning of her long career.

These head hunters were the warriors of their tribe, who protect their villages, to the
extent of killing their enemies. For them, it is a symbol of bravery and courage. She
also inked the skin of women from the tribe, the tattoos are considered as a sign of
beauty and elegance.

Whang-od is living proof of the tribe’s batok (hand-tapping) culture. Covering her
body are tattoos with different meanings and designs. Each of her arms, she said,
took a day to be inked completely. After her body was covered, she related how her
father rejoiced and killed a pig to celebrate the feat.

Now, after 80 years of tattooing, Whang-od is inking foreign and Filipino visitors who
visit her.

Whang-Od’s tattoo
Whang-od’s tribal tattoo ink is made up of charcoal and water. Once mixed, it is
tapped into the skin using a thorn from a citrus tree — either from calamansi or
pomelo. The thorn is then attached to a 12-inch long bamboo stick and from there,
Whang-od will start tapping it deep into your skin. She has sample designs so that
you can choose which design you’d like. The locals or your tour guide will then
gently relay your request to Whang-od and from there she will start tapping your
desired design.

Getting inked by Whang-od takes some courage as the session can be painful,
depending on your body’s tolerance. As a sign of courtesy, visitors are also
encouraged to bring in some offerings for your host like food, medicine, and
matches which are essential for their day to day existence.

Passing the tradition to her bloodline

Whang-od never married. She lost her significant other during the Japanese
occupation and since then, Whang-od has stayed single. Without a child of her own
to teach, she is training her grandniece Grace Palicas to continue the tribe’s tattoo
tradition. She believes that she can only pass it to her bloodline because if someone
outside the tribe were to continue the tradition, the tattoo would be infected.

For her part, Grace is more than willing to continue what the tribe has started. She
has even had the opportunity to participate in different tattoo festivals around the
country.

Whang-od is now in her mid-90s and from the looks of it, she is not stopping anytime
soon. And there seems to be no shortage of people who want to be inked by her and
believe in her art.
https://theculturetrip.com/asia/philippines/articles/meet-apo-whang-od-the-last-hand-
poke-tattoo-artist-in-the-philippines/

Apo Whang-od
behind the ink
and lemon thorns

Apo Whang-od, the last “mambabatok,” uses lemon thorns and charcoal ink in tattooing. Photo by
Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Everybody knows her as the last “mambabatok” or traditional tattoo artist of the Butbut tribe in
Buscalan, Kalinga, a province in northern Philippines.
Ever since Kara David featured her in the documentary show i-Witness, she’s already been in the
consciousness not only of Filipinos but also of people from other nations who are particularly
interested in tattoos and the art of tattooing.
And not only once had she been the talk of the town since then. A few years ago, there had been a
clamor for her to be declared a national artist. Also not long ago, she became known internationally
when she was featured in an art exhibit in Canada.

Recently, the internet was once again abuzz when she participated in a tattoo festival
in Manila together with her grand niece, who is also a tattoo artist. Netizens were
quick to express their opinion about her participation in the said event. Some were
glad to have seen her in the city and be tattooed by her but some expressed worry and
dismay that the centenarian might have been a little bit exploited.
But who really is Apo Whang-od behind all these discussions? A few years ago, this
writer travelled to Kalinga province and got to be hosted by the famous
“mambabatok” in her humble home.

Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

When not tattooing, Apo Whang-od is busy taking care of her native pigs and
chickens, which freely roam around their tribe. She feeds them at least twice a day.
Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Because it is a mountainous area, farming and raising livestock are the major sources
of livelihood of the people of Butbut. Women are also into making hand-woven
textiles and colorful beaded jewelry.

Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Although Apo Whang-od doesn’t have a family of her own, she takes care of her other
relatives and is actually very motherly. There’s a dirty kitchen adjacent to her house
where she cooks using wood fire.
Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

In recent years, people from all over the world started flocking to Buscalan to get a
tattoo from Apo Whang-od. There are no hotels in the tribe so tourists are left with no
choice but to stay with the locals. Apo Whang-od’s house is also open for homestays.

Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Apo Whang-od’s abode is very simple. In her room, there is a “banig” or handwoven
sleeping mat and a few pillows which guests can use. Portraits of her which were sent
by tourists who previously visited her hang on the walls.
Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Aside from tattooing and looking after her animals, Apo Whang-od is also musically-
inclined. Here she is pictured playing the nose flute at the “silong” (basement) of her
house. For some reason, she loves playing sad music.

While people are interested about Apo Whang-od and the art of traditional tattooing
which she is famous for, it is also important to note that there’s more to the woman
than just charcoal ink and lemon thorns.

Photo by Don Lejano/INQUIRER.net

Important things to know before going to Kalinga to get a tattoo from Apo Whang-od:
It’s quite a challenge to get to Butbut tribe in Tinglayan village, Kalinga province. It
requires long bus, jeepney and habal-habal rides and some trekking. Come prepared.
Apo Whang-od and the people in her tribe do not speak English or Filipino so it
would be best to get a guide from Tabuk or Buscalan who speaks their Kalinga
dialect.

There’s poor cellphone signal in the area but keep your phones and cameras charged
because the sceneries are quite postcard-ready.
Since the Butbut tribe is very remote, you might want to bring some treats to the
tribespeople. The older ones would appreciate a box of match or two while the
children would love some candies or chocolates.

http://lifestyle.inquirer.net/276858/apo-whang-od-behind-ink-lemon-thorns/
WHANG-OD OGGAY: THE LAST
MAMBABATOK FROM THE
PHILIPPINES

Whang-od Oggay is regarded as the last Mambabatok or

Batok artist in the Philippines. Batok is considered as a
traditional tattoo in Buscalan, a barangay in the municipality
of Tinglayan, located in the province of Kalinga in the
Philippines. The place is located on the Northern part of the
country. It attracts several tourists each year because of the
cold weather and its gorgeous landscape. Aside from this,
another thing that entices people to visit the place is to see
or even experience how Batok is done by Whang-od Oggay.
About Whang-od Oggay
Whang-od was born in 1918, which means she’s around 97
to 98 years old as of this writing. She is part of the Butbut
Kalinga tribe, which is an indigenous group in the
Philippines. Whang-od has been tattooing for more than 80
years and she herself, as well as the elders in their tribe are
filled with tattoos. The traditional tattooing was done as a
sign of power to their men. A Batok (tattoo) is added on their
body that corresponds to the enemies that they killed.
Women on the other hand get their tattoos to beautify
themselves.
She is dubbed as the last mambabatok because this art of
traditional tattooing is no longer practiced by the younger
generation in their village. It is also believed that this skill
should only be passed to those who are in her bloodline or
the tattoo would be infected. Whang-od got married but her
husband died due to an accident when she was just 25-
years old. They didn’t have kids and she also didn’t remarry
after. However, she is now training two youngsters who are
in her lineage to continue the art. One is her grandniece
Grace Palicas and another successor Ilyang Wigan.
How Batok is Done

Machines and different colors of ink are typically used in

modern tattoos. This is not the case with the traditional
tattooing in Kalinga or pambabatok. The thorn of the pomelo
tree or calamansi plant is used as a needle. Water
and charcoal are then mixed together to form an ink.
According to many of those who have experienced this, the
pain is more intense than that of modern tattooing. You
need to have high pain tolerance and you should be one
hundred percent sure about this before getting one. Whang-
od would know if the person being tattooed could still bear
the pain or not. If she sees that the person couldn’t bear it
anymore, she would refuse to move forward with the
tattooing.
International Exhibits
Many foreign tourists visit here to experience this traditional
art of tattooing and are charged for it. The image of Whang-
od has also gone international, with one being included in
an art exhibit called “Tattoos: Ritual. Identity. Obsession.
Art” in Ontario, Canada. It was also included in another
exhibit in a museum in Paris.
It’s not just regular local and foreign folks that go to Kalinga
to get a tattoo from Whang-od. Even Filipino celebrities like
Drew Arellano and Rhian Ramos got a Batok from her too.
Photo Attribution:
Featured and 1st image by Mawg64 (Own work) [CC BY-SA
4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via
Wikimedia Commons
2nd image by Mawg64 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0
(http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via
Wikimedia Commons

http://spokenvision.com/whang-od-oggay-the-last-mambabatok-from-the-
philippines/