The Mysterious Our Lady of Caysasay Story as told in Old Tagalog by the 18th Century Agustinian Friar Francisco Buencuchillo

The story of the Our Lady of Caysasay, or the Nuestra Señora de Caysasay as she used to be known during the Spanish colonial era in the Philippines, may not necessarily fall under the category “stock knowledge” even for many Batangueños, and especially those who do not live anywhere close to the Municipality of Taal, where the village of Caysasay is located. I, for one, heard of the academy named after her first; and for the longest time only had the vaguest notion about her story.

A recent walking tour of the municipality changed that, since my companion was not only a native of Taal but also a most willing and able tour guide. The Lady of Caysasay, I learned from him, was an image of the Immaculate Conception fished out from the Pansipit River which turned out to be miraculous.

That the image was so – i.e. miraculous – is apparently something officially recognized by the Vatican. In 1954, the image was canonically crowned with an accompanying Papal bull or charter issued by the Pope. Later, the image would be given the title “Queen of the Archdiocese of Lipa.¹”

Perhaps the story of the Our Lady of Caysasay is best told straight from the book of an eighteenth century Agustinian friar by the name of Francisco Buencuchillo, who was assigned in Taal². According to some sources that I have consulted before writing this article, the story was apparently handed down the generations by word of mouth before it was written down by the friar.

While the story is fascinating in itself, it becomes even more so told by a Spaniard who was transcribing into his own script or writing phonetics that were obviously not native to him. Hence, in reading the excerpts from his book which this article shall be citing, it is best to keep in mind that he was writing sounds as he was familiar with – i.e. the Spanish way – and, therefore, may not immediately be recognizable to those schooled in standardized Filipino or Tagalog.

Moreover, Buencuchillo used verb forms that ought to be immediately recognizable to Batangueños even in the present day, e.g. “hulogui” or “hulugi/huluge” in modern day spelling or “ihulog” in standardized Filipino. He also used words broken into distinct syllables such as “gay-on” (or ganoon in standard Filipino) which is unmistakably Batangas dialect used even in the present day. Finally, he used words that are no longer used by modern day Tagalogs but are still used in Hiligaynon and probably other Visayan languages such as “tanan” (not to be confused with the Tagalog word which means to elope) meaning “everyone” and “tauo” or “tawo,” meaning people.

After Maningcad brought the image home, word of its finding quickly spread and reached the local priest and magistrate. The image was brought back to Taal, which presumably was the center of town in what is present-day San Nicolas. Contemporary versions of the story seem to have taken it for granted that there was a fiesta or feast going on, but from this excerpt it can also be alternatively interpreted that the arrival of the image became a reason for merriment and feast.

The care of the image was assigned to a Doña Maria Espiritu, whom modern versions seem to have assumed was the widow of a magistrate. This might well have been if Buencuchillo made a mistake and wrote “nabao” instead of “nabalo,” or if the former was an archaic term with the same meaning as the latter. Otherwise, the phrase “na sa hocom ay nabao” is very much open to interpretation.

Was the word “malibang” actually “mabilang” and that the phrase “Cundi nang malibang arao” actually meant “after countless days?” Modern translations seem to have assumed so, as they say that the image was found many years later close to where it was originally fished out by Maningcad by two women by the name of Maria Bagohin and Maria Talain. Batangueños will quickly recognize “babaying” as local dialect for “babaeng” which continues to be used by the elderly and those who live in remote villages even in the present day.

This was essentially the gist of Buencuchillo’s story, that the image kept disappearing because it wanted to return to Caysasay. Subsequently, a chapel was built close to where Maningcad originally fished the image from the river, to be replaced later with a stone church. Batangueños will be amused by Buencuchillo’s use of the word “toclong” or wooden chapel, which is decidedly local dialect.