AMOY MATANDA - AND PROUD OF IT!

Kids today are totally unashamed of smelling like grandma, which is a good thing.

- RICARDO T. PAMINTUAN

I recently heard a bizarre story from my daughter and her friend. On their way home, just when the P2P bus's A/C conked out, one of the passengers had a panic attack, demanding that the driver stop the bus in the middle of the southbound lane of the Skyway and screaming that she was about to die.

In what appeared to be a moment of nausea (or insanity), the Filipino bayanihan spirit kicked into high gear: the driver opened the bus door (which I suppose carries a lower fine than stopping along the highway) for some fresh air, and passengers offered barf bags and caring words. Others had their phones on standby, just in case Ate did decide to jump off the bus.

One particularly concerned Tita offered her nose inhaler – but only after she had tested if it was still potent.

That got me thinking. A lot of people, especially girls and women, seem to carry an inhaler or liniment of some kind along with their anik-anik. WTF (What's the fuss)? We're not talking about mental health, responsible driving, or social conscience here, folks, but balms, liniments, and nasal inhalers.

These humble yet potent concoctions have long been both mocked and revered, transcending generational gaps and cultural boundaries. It's fascinating that, just a few decades ago, during my time, smelling of Tiger Balm or White Flower was practically a badge of shame. To be told, “Amoy matanda ka” (“You smell old”), was a recognition of any pungent traditional herbal fog you carried. It was often uttered (whispered?) half in jest, half in olfactory self-defense.