You Think Witches Are Scary?

Halloween as traditionally celebrated may not be totally global but without exception, in any country or culture, there are enough stories and widely held tales to make many a childhood nightmare part of growing up.  

The scary witch in black loose clothing, cape and pointy hat straddling a broomstick will not hold a candle to the "aswang" where I grew up. From the other nearby islands they even evolved into taking different but no less menacing forms.

They're mostly female but the occasional male is more fearsome and unforgiving. During the day, they live normal human lives as regular members of the local community.  At night, when everyone is asleep, the "aswang" will go to a secluded place, usually thickets of vegetation of banana trees or bamboo.  There, the "aswang" will sprout bat-like wings and proceed to separate her upper body, from the belly button up at the waist, then off  she will fly away for a night of marauding menace, leaving the lower body unattended, both legs standing still. Before sunrise the "aswang" will come back to the same spot to reunite with his or her lower body, back to  human form to the unsuspecting community.  

What did they hunt for? And how?  

They would fly to the towns or barrio away from their own community, which they typically leave  alone and unharmed.  However, that is not to say that other "aswangs" from the other towns will not be doing the same thing.  So, just because the local "aswang" will fly somewhere else, no one is safe in any town or barrio.

Vulnerable homes are those with thatched roof of nipa fronds, such as ours when I was growing up.  The "aswang" would alight at the top of the roof where a child or children are sleeping on the floor below. She then separates the nipa  ever so slightly for a good look.  Then, once she finds her victim, she would release through her funneled lips  a thin, continuous strand of her saliva through the slit on the roof into the child's mouth or nostril.  This takes away the child's spirit from the body. By morning, the child is dead. The "aswang" will come back later in the week, during wake. That is when she will devour the body from the inside.   It will take several night trips before the "aswang" is finished. The village people who attend the all-night wake are told to remain awake because even if only one person is up, it will keep the "aswang" from completing the task, but invariably everyone doses off, which enables the "aswang" to devour its victim through its long tongue from the rooftop.  The family and the villagers will take to the cemetery a body empty from the inside except for banana stalks and coconut husks  that the "aswang" replaced it with.

Then there was the famous "Tio Gimo" (nickname for the formal Spanish name of Guillermo) from the other island across from ours.  He had several attractive daughters, fair skinned with light brown hair - typical of mixed Spanish and native blood. Many young men would be lured into calling on the young maidens' home lorded over by "Tio Gimo"; Tio actually means "uncle", obviously endearing as it sounds.  These men, always from out of town, will never be heard from again. "Tio Gimo" and his daughters were "aswang" who had evolved into a different form by preying on love-struck adult males instead of young children.

Listening to these stories, we were too young or perhaps even too scared to question how people knew of the story if nobody ever came out alive.

Something we did know, however, was how to defeat the "aswang".  One will have to find the lower half of the "aswang" as she forayed into the night. Pouring capfuls of salt or vinegar or a combination of both over the exposed lower half prevented the flying  "aswang" from reuniting and reconstituting herself or himself into a full human form again. At night when all is quiet, we occasionally hear a distant and faint wailing or moaning sound.  We were told by the elders that an "aswang" somewhere was pleading to allow its body halves to be put back together.  We will not sleep well that night.

The "tamawo" was something else.  

One side of the lot where our nipa hut stood, was where the edge of a pond began, part of a larger watery world of  mangrove - muddy, dark, as vegetation obscured the sunlight from getting through. From our lot stood a huge tree. One of its main branches leaned as an overhang over part of the pond that was clear of aquatic grass and water lilies.  It was a perfect spot to fish. With one or two of my friends we would go up there, straddling horseback-riding-like on the huge branch, with our bamboo fishing poles, tiny hooks and wiggly worms in old rusty tin cans, excited to snag perch and mud fish just below the opaque water.  We were careful to always ask for permission in hushed tones addressed to whichever spirit was present every time we go there. We cannot see the "tamawo", of course, but they're bound to be there because that part of the pond was where their vessels would come to dock.  

The "tamawo" is invisible to everybody, except to some of the elders who are gifted with extraordinary eyesight.  They would tell us that the "tamawo" would leave us alone, in peace and free from harm, if we don't offend them. When asked what the "tamawos" look like, the gifted elders told us that the "tamawos" are pale skinned, almost white, but they have one distinguishing facial feature.  They do not have a philtrum - "the vertical groove on the surface of the upper lip, below the septum of the nose".

When we were out on that tree or anywhere else we ventured out in the field or thicket of wild berries and such, not only were we not to forget to ask for permission to pass, we were not to point at anything or our fingers would fall off. At the pond, it was often that we see a kingfisher a short distance away, perched on a drooping branch, watching for fish below.  The kingfisher had striking features of a pointy beak and plumage of beautiful colors of blue, green and red with a tinge of orange.  Not only can we not point at it, it was best to leave it alone. More than likely it was a "tamawo's" pet. 

In fifth grade, a beautiful classmate of ours did not come to class one day.  We heard later that she passed away  the night before. Our teacher took those of us who wanted to go to her wake. She was the quiet type who pretty much kept to herself, except to be with one or two close friends.  Though not very sociable, her pretty face and a rare but unemotional smile framed by long curly dark hair made it hard to ignore her. 

We were told she was taken by the "tamawo" away to their  invisible outer world, adopted to live among them.  There were many unexplained childhood death when we were growing up.  Half of them were attributed to the "tamawo" and the other half predated upon by the "aswang".

The "mantiw" was one that no one had ever seen but they were around when it was windy. During the night, of course.  They have long legs because everyone can hear them running over the homes, but not touching any of the structures; but they'd come by so fast  disturbing the air to rush out and back, accompanied by a whistling, sometimes roaring, sound. There could be a herd of these "mantiw" running, especially when it was raining, as if they were either fleeing from or going after something.  But nobody could see them and they were not known to harm anyone.

The "kapri" was another harmless creature but no less sinister. We never asked but I've always wondered why those who were "allowed" to see them always described them as male.  There seemed to have been no female "kapris".  The "kapri" is a giant, about 10-12 feet tall, who resided in big abandoned homes. They have a hairy body, large head with disheveled crusty hair, over large piercing black eyes.  Once, a bunch of us young kids and older teenagers and one adult went to an abandoned home because there was a "kapri" there.  The adult and an older teenager who could see the "kapri" described the creature to us.  The "kapri" was reclining his giant body with his back against the wall, legs splayed on the floor, smoking a huge cigar.  Yes, "kapris" were known to smoke cigars!  And the reason we go there to "gawk" at a creature we could not see was because the "kapri"  too was  a harmless denizen of the dark realm.

Up to this point of my musing, I was re-telling from memories of my childhood.  What follows below are those from sources that are at least two to more times removed from  directly hearing or experiencing them.

Many islands away up north of the archipelago were  creatures that those in our island felt fortunate to not have to deal with them.  I will only mention one here.  The "tikbalang" has a huge torso, hairy and muscular, an ugly face and disproportionately longs legs like those of a giraffe's. We were told it indiscriminately preyed on anyone - adults and children - who wandered through the open field or empty streets late in the night.  Its hunger and appetite for human flesh rises with that of the waning and waxing moon, when the night is dark.

In the capital city in the main island was a story that today would seem to follow a universal pattern.  It is the "Lady in White".  One major street, Balete Drive, so named because  one giant tropical tree species - Balete - stood in one corner, and there used to be several of them along that road.  There are so many versions of the story, episodes too long to cover here but what was consistent was that a Lady in White waiting by that tree would hail and get into a taxi, or privately driven car, in the middle of the night. After that, the stories would turn into so many different terrorizing versions.  Actually, this story may have started from way back when the method of conveyance was still a horse-drawn carriage. 

Photo of a Balete Tree

Below is a representation of what "witnesses" described what the lady looked like.

In the southern islands, at the university where I went, the school hospital had one prevailing story of a Lady in White, presumably the apparition of a deceased nurse, doctor, or previous patient. The reader will note that such stories abound in different parts of the world, across all cultures.

As I said in the first paragraph, we outgrew the stories by about the same time we learned there really was no Santa Claus, some later than others.  Whatever the effects were on the other children I grew up with, I am in no position to assess.  For me, those stories that included episodes from the comic book version of The Twilight Zone (we had no TV then) were what pushed me to the sciences by the time I got into my freshman year in high school. I embraced physical science, math, algebra and geometry because elements of those subjects were provable, and as in geometry, postulates and theorems and proofs of congruence, shapes whose areas and circumferences can be solved, etc. without any ambiguities.

But I wondered why the stories, even to this day, in many parts of the world, remain in circulation. Is it because fear is just a natural  human instinct, stoked by so much we do not and cannot know?

I was scared of moving from home for the first time to go to college. Integral calculus scared me after I failed it the first time I took it.  College graduation was a happy time but we were all scared about not getting a job.

Potential recession, the threat of war, crime, waiting for medical test results, all of these feed into our capacity for all sorts of mental anguish from what seems like our instinctual nature to be fearful.

I feel that those stories that I seem to remember so well, though I cannot vouch with a hundred per cent accuracy of my recollections, may have actually prepared me in how I dealt with all kinds of fear later in life. For example, I knew that the "mantiw" that our elders would tell us about came during the monsoon season when rains would be accompanied by high winds. That explained for me the whistling and roaring sounds, which were much too fearful when one lived in a nipa thatched home.  The death of young children - so difficult to comprehend or accept - which could only have been caused by the "aswang" or "tamawo" is not a good accounting of the fact that the childhood mortality rate could have been explained by inadequate health care and prevention during those times.

Imagine what it was like for our early ancestors to be fearful of so many things beyond their comprehension. But fear must have been and still is a survival tool. As children, our learning brain with a default feature to be fearful of the unfamiliar perhaps have yet to discriminate between and among a lot of stimuli.  

The question is why adults relish the idea of scaring young children.  There are a lot of reasons, I'm sure. It is fun. It is passing on an initiation tradition of the time they too had been scared. It is a way to get the kids to behave or be wary of unfamiliar environments. Who knows?

All of these can be relegated to superstition because who doesn't have one? We eventually outgrow almost all superstitions and  childhood lore we hear, but woe to those who do not.

I think it is best to quote Carl Sagan, from his book, "The Demon-Haunted World" (Science as a Candle in the Dark):

"..when, clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes, our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what feels good and what's true, we slide, almost without noticing, back into superstition and darkness..."

"The dumbing down of America is most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the enormously influential media, the 30 second sound bites (now down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance”

I hope I have redeemed myself for subjecting the reader to some of the ghoulish recollections of my childhood.