st of the mountain was reached, each person in turn voiced
an invitation to her departed ancestors to come to the Mang'-mang
feast. She placed her olla of basi and pork over a tiny fire,
kindled by the first pilgrim to the mountain in the morning and fed
by each arrival. Then she took the chicken from her basket and faced
the west, pointing before her with the chicken in one hand and the
lo'-lo in the other. There she stood, a solitary figure, performing
her sacred mission alone. Those preceding her were slowly descending
the hot mountain side in groups as they came; those to follow her
were awaiting their turn at a distance beneath a shady tree. The fire
beside her sent up its thin line of smoke, bearing through the quiet
air the fragrance of the basi.

The woman invited the ancestral anito to the feast, saying:

"A-ni'-to ad Lo'-ko, su-ma-a-kay'-yo ta-in-mang-mang'-ta-ko
ta-ka-ka'-nen si mu'-teg." Then she faced the north and addressed the
spirit of her ancestors there: "A-ni'-to ad La'-god, su-ma-a-kay'-yo
ta-in-mang-mang'-ta-ko ta-ka-ka'-nen si mu'-teg." She faced the east,
gazing over the forested mountain ranges, and called to the spirits
of the past generation there: "A-ni'-to ad Bar'-lig su-ma-a-kay'-yo
ta-in-mang-mang'-ta-ko ta-ka-ka-nen si mu'-teg."

As she brought her sacred objects back down the mountain another
woman stood alone by the little fire on the crest.

The returning pilgrim now puts her fowl and her basi olla inside her
dwelling, and likely sits in the open air awaiting her husband as he
prepares the feast. Outside, directly in front of his door, he builds
a fire and sets a cooking olla over it. Then he takes the chicken from
its basket, and at his hands it meets a slow and cruel death. It is
held by the feet and the hackle feathers, and the wings unfold and
droop spreading. While sitting in his doorway holding the fowl in
this position the man beats the thin-fleshed bones of the wings with a
short, heavy stick as large around as a spear handle. The fowl cries
with each of the first dozen blows laid on, but the blows continue
until each wing has received fully half a hundred. The injured bird
is then laid on its back on a stone, while its head and neck stretch
out on the hard surface. Again the stick falls, cruelly, regularly,
this time on the neck. Up and down its length it is pummeled, and as
many as a hundred blows fall -- fall after the cries cease, after the
eyes close and open and close