Friday, January 11, 2008 - The Children Of Lucia
She lived through two world wars. She grew up poor, as an only child. She got married by force in her teens. She had eight children, all of them girls. She learned childbirth delivery from her mother. At only eighteen years of age, she became a midwife, practicing her own brand of childbirth delivery. The focus was not on the delivery itself, but the education before and after the delivery. She was called “Luciang Hilot”. Literally, it is Tagalog for “Lucia the masseuse”. She gave a healing massage, educating pregnant women during their maternity process. She delivered thousands of children, all the way up to the time of her death.
Lucia Manalo was born as Lucia Anzures in 1896, to her mother, Epipania De La Cruz, and her father, Juan Anzures. As a young child, she was forced to change her last name to “Manalo” because she could not use her father’s name. He and his family were wanted by the Spaniards.
Her own girls all got married, and each one having an average of six children. She delivered every single one of them. She also delivered all of her great grandchildren. As her reputation grew, the entire neighborhood came to her. By the time the Japanese occupied the Philippines in the 1940’s, she was averaging a delivery of one or two children per day. Sometimes she delivered three children, all in one night. Most of her deliveries were in the nighttime. When asked why, she simply said: “It’s because that’s when they were made!”
The neighborhood she lived in was a very poor one. Most people couldn’t afford to pay her any money for her services. She only asked for what families can afford. Most of the time, it was just a simple thank you, a piece of mind. As her popularity grew, so did her legend.
In the neighborhood of San Nicholas, Lucia delivered virtually everyone. There had been many stories of children being delivered stillborn, of which Lucia, for miraculous reasons, was able to revive. She was also able to help many breach deliveries. On one occasion, a woman, who also happened to be her friend, was having an extremely complicated breach delivery. Lucia had already delivered two of her previous children. Since she hadn’t experienced delivering such a complicated breach, she suggested that they go to the local hospital, while there was still plenty of time. To her surprise, the woman tells her: “Lucia, I completely trust your skill. I trust you more than any doctor. If it’s God’s will, so let it be. I would rather leave my life in your hands.” Lucia was able to deliver the baby safely.
So many lives saved, so many stories told. One story involved a stillborn delivery. The baby simply wasn’t breathing. Lucia performed her own brand of CPR. She instructed someone to get two bowls of water, one very hot, one very cold. She dipped the baby back and forth between the bowls, until the baby was revived. The baby survived.
Another revival story involved Lucia holding a stillborn baby by the back of his neck and legs, folding him back and forth, until the baby took his first breath. She was also known to have blown tobacco smoke up into a stillborn’s behind, miraculously reviving another baby.
Perhaps one of the most incredible stories of Lucia’s blessed life occurred in the early seventies, when Lucia was already in her mid seventies. With her legend established and her reputation as an “unlicensed midwife”, a group of maternity doctors invited her to visit a very highly reputable hospital. They had been inviting her to get some form of license for years, but she never obliged. This time, they finally convinced her. The doctors wanted to share with her their “latest and current knowledge” about child delivery. They wanted to educate her about a new method of “cutting and sterilizing the umbilical cord.” When she was shown their new method, Lucia’s response was: “I’ve been doing this since 1915!” As a result, the doctors asked her to consult with maternity doctors all over Manila. She agreed to consult them, and they never bothered her about the license again.
Lucia delivered so many people, that the coincidences grew over time. One of her daughters, Eulalia, married one Ben Barroga, who was twelve years younger than she was. When Lucia met Ben’s family, it occurred to her that she had delivered Ben herself, and remembered Eulalia being in the same room when he was delivered. She happened to be Lucia’s helper that night!
This is a partial story of Lucia Manalo, my grandmother. She delivered so many people in her lifetime. She delivered my father as well. Yes, she delivered two of her eventual son-in-laws. She also delivered my older brother’s wife, Sheila. From about 1915 until the time of her death in 1981, she massaged, educated, advised, and delivered her way into legendary status. She also saved countless lives with her methods!
I lived with her from the day she delivered me, until I came to America just a week short of my eleventh birthday. About a year ago, in a nostalgic conversation with my older brother Rene, his words became a mission, a calling. Rene said: “Her story has to be told. We can't let it die!”
Last summer, I started the process of researching her life. “The Children Of Lucia” was born. This February of 2008, I will be traveling to Manila, Philippines to interview the countless “Children of Lucia”. Her second to the youngest daughter, Ildefonza, who inherited some of her skills, will be a primary study. The goal is twofold. One is to tell Lucia’s story, and the other is to serve the history of the Philippines in her lifetime.
By Robert Calixto “The Children Of Lucia” January 11, 2008
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