Maya: Leo, I’m telling you, this headache is not normal. It’s been three days. I think someone cursed me. I’m going to see an albularyo later.
Leo: A curse? Maya, you’ve been sleeping four hours a night and living on instant coffee. Your brain is probably just protesting.
Maya: You always say that. But remember my cousin Lani? Doctors couldn’t explain her stomach pain. One visit to an albularyo, some prayers, herbal oil—boom, cured.
Leo: Or… her pain went away on its own. A lot of illnesses do that. Our brains love connecting events even when they’re not actually related.
Maya: You’re so dismissive. Albularyos have helped people for generations. My lola swore by them. She said some illnesses don’t show up on medical tests.
Leo: I’m not denying your lola’s experience. But tradition isn’t the same as evidence. If something really works, it should work consistently, not just sometimes.
Maya: Science doesn’t know everything, Leo. What about kulam? Or usog? Kids really get sick after strangers admire them.
Leo: That’s actually a good example. Babies get sick easily because their immune systems are weak. When someone visits, they get exposed to new germs. No magic involved—just biology.
Maya: Then how do you explain why they feel better after someone says “pwera usog”?
Leo: Comfort. Attention. Reduced stress. Even adults feel better when they believe someone is helping them. It’s called the placebo effect—and it’s powerful.
Maya: So you’re saying it’s all in the mind?
Leo: Not just in the mind. The mind affects the body. But that doesn’t mean there’s a curse. It means belief can temporarily ease symptoms.
Maya: Temporary or not, relief is relief. The albularyo doesn’t charge much, listens patiently, and doesn’t rush you like doctors do.
Leo: That part I agree with. Modern healthcare can feel cold and expensive. But the danger is when people skip real treatment. Remember Mang Rudy? He treated his infection with herbs until it got worse.
Maya: …Okay, that was scary. He almost lost his leg.
Leo: Exactly. Folk healers don’t have X-rays, lab tests, or antibiotics. They can’t see what’s actually happening inside the body.
Maya: But not everything needs machines. Sometimes people just need spiritual cleansing.
Leo: Or therapy. Or rest. Or less caffeine.
(smirks)
Maya: Don’t mock me. I already made an appointment.
Leo: I’m not mocking. I just wish you’d also see a doctor. You can do both—get checked medically and keep your traditions if they comfort you.
Maya: Huh. That’s… surprisingly reasonable for you.
Leo: I’m anti-harm, not anti-culture. I just don’t want you blaming a curse when it might be something treatable.
Maya: Fine. I’ll book a clinic visit tomorrow. But if the doctor says nothing is wrong, I’m blaming you and going to the albularyo.
Leo: Deal. And if the doctor says “stress,” I get to confiscate your coffee stash.
Maya: Over my cursed body.
Leo: See? Even your jokes are supernatural.
(They laugh, clinking their coffee mugs—one regular, one decaf.)

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