Who Bears the Weight
Hundreds of Catholic devotees wrapped themselves in dried banana leaves and covered their bodies with mud on Wednesday in the Philippine village of Bibiclat, taking part in the Taong Putik, or Mud People, festival honoring St. John the Baptist. In Asia’s largest Catholic nation, the annual ritual draws people who say they are thanking the local patron saint for miracles and fulfilling vows made in prayer, with ordinary devotees doing the bodily labor while the church and its traditions frame the meaning.
The observance begins before dawn, long before any public ceremony or official count can be made. Around 4 a.m., devotees head into nearby fields to search for soft mud, smear it over their bodies, and wrap themselves in dried banana leaves. Barefoot, they walk to St. John the Baptist Church carrying only cellphones and lighted candles, then wait for Mass to begin as hymns are sung near a small fire formed by the candle offerings.
A Tradition Built on Humility and Disguise
Local church leaders say the practice began in the 1800s, when farmers smeared themselves with mud as an expression of humility and covered themselves with the leaves to conceal their identities due to discrimination against the poor during that time. The origin story itself points to a social order where the poor had reason to hide, and where ritual became a way to survive humiliation while still gathering in public.
According to the Rev. Elmer Villamayor, who led the parish between 2014 and 2021, devotion to St. John the Baptist grew after a group of local men escaped execution during the Japanese occupation in World War II. Villamayor said residents say the men were spared after a sudden rainstorm interrupted the proceedings, an event many interpreted as divine intervention. The account ties the festival’s meaning to a moment when state violence was interrupted, and the memory of that escape still feeds the ritual today.
Melencio Nenuda, a 39-year-old construction worker, said the mud-covered parishioners frightened him as a child and he used to hide when they passed by. That changed when he fell seriously ill in the sixth grade and his mother prayed to St. John the Baptist, vowing that he would join the tradition if he recovered. “I will continue to go back to this tradition because it gives me a good future,” Nenuda said, adding that his wife and son also participate.
Faith, Family, and the Bottom Rung
While no official attendance records are kept, Villamayor estimates that up to 3,000 people take part in the festival. That number suggests a large-scale communal practice, but it is still measured only by estimate, not by any formal record kept by the institution overseeing the parish.
Rickmar Castilio, 43, has participated for the last two decades, and this year his 11-year-old son Nathan joined him for the first time. “There are a lot more devotees now,” Castilio said. “Maybe they have experienced miracles or they have seen good things and that is why there is an increasing number of people who believe in St. John.” His words place the growth of the ritual in the hands of people who have lived through hardship and are looking for something that promises relief.
Castilio said his family has its own blessing to be thankful for. After his first child died, he vowed to continue honoring St. John the Baptist through the annual ritual if a future child survived. He has returned every year since his prayers were answered. “(I bring my child so) that he will get closer to St. John,” Castilio said. “The youth now are starting that path.”
The festival remains a scene of devotion built from below: workers, parents, children, and the poor covering themselves in mud before dawn, carrying candles, and walking barefoot to a church where the ritual is folded back into institutional religion. The people at the bottom do the labor of belief, while the hierarchy names it tradition.