This is a prelude to my longer post on Siqui ... well, see the title.
A year ago, while a former co-worker and I were talking about watching "Tiktik: Aswang Chronicles" together, she asked why while I'm scared sh*tless of ghost movies, I'm perfectly fine watching monster movies. And as if in sudden realization, she said in jest, "Oh, right. That's 'cause you're used to them." That was her alluding to the fact that my home province of Samar is infamous for aswang and barang stories.
See, we may live in the age of Google Glasses and machines that take pictures of themselves on Mars , but in my turf, there are still people who believe in mystical creatures and a myriad of supernatural events.
There's a point to all this, which I will get to. Really. but first ... picture-break.
Stuff from a Siquijor souvenir store. I forget what this is for, but it's one of those things that bring luck, heal, or ward off malevolent spirits.
Case in point, my Nanay. When a cousin died a few years back, she and her family were convinced that the cousin's actual body was replaced with a banana trunk (the tree, not the fruit). That's all she was in the end - a banana trunk; some decoy supposedly placed there by mystical creatures to trick the loved ones into believing that nothing's amiss. These mystical creatures sure sound like they're from the 'hood.
When my sister suffered from food poisoning in grade school, instead of bringing of my sister to a doctor, Nanay brought her to a folk healer (read: arbularyo, or maybe herbolario if you're some kinda, like, konyo and stuff). Mang Igme, who is the legendary herbolario in Catbalogan, wrote a few phrases in Latin on a piece of paper, put the piece of paper in a glass of water, had my sister drink it, and voila! My sister was cured.
More recently, Nanay called to tell us about an aunt's death in childbirth, and how this was because a night creature (read: tiktik) had been lurking near their house several days before my aunt's death.
There is a point to all of this. #justsayin
But first, picture-break 2:
When I was younger, Nanay would take us to the island (the island's name is Talib. See, even the name sounds so "out there") where most of her family resides. I hated those trips. There was no electricity on the island so it was dark, and it was really hot at night. Dark, hot, and remote which made it a favorable place of residence for supernatural creatures. Or so my Nanay and her family believe.
On all those trips, I remember Nanay telling us how during the night she heard sounds which could have only been made by a wak-wak. An aunt would also tell us how she heard the heels of a boar clacking. The boar is supposedly a lady who shape-shifts at night and does not bother to take her slippers off. So, well, two things you'd gather about these creatures: 1. they're noisy as hell and, 2. they're lazy. So ... not ideal traits for hunters, but whatever.
Just reminding you, there's a point to this which I will get to shortly.
My maternal family is one superstitious lot. I remember Nanay telling us that my grandmother's ill-luck was caused by her refusal to train for and practice folk healing (read: herbolario-ism), a skill passed on to her by her ancestors. Pro or not, I guess my grandmother, may her soul rest in peace, did practice a little sorcery (the good kind, of course). She had a skull of some great grandfather standing (oxymoron?) guard outside her house to ward off those with evil intentions. During Holy Week, she'd go out to the forest to collect stuff for her lana (medicinal oil) and recite chants to make it more potent.
More stuff from a Siquijor souvenir store. Again, I forget what the stuff on the left is for. On the right is lumay (read: love potion). All you need is lumay. It's better to have lumay-ed and lost than never to have lumay-ed at all. Lumay lifts us up where we belong. Lumay ... okay I'm gonna stop now.
If as a child you're constantly told stories about mystical creatures that they creep into the crevices of your consciousness, then you're bound to be desensitized.
POINT: What I'm saying is, aswang movies, to me, lack the element of surprise. Aswang stories, instead make me a bit competitive. I'd tell you that aswangs of my province can out-fly, out-stick-the-tongue-through-the-roof-and-into-the-fetus-inside-a-pregnant-woman's-belly any of the aswangs of other provinces in this country.
P.S. Herbolario is the actual,like, word, like.
Labels: Aswang, Barang, Love Potion, Samar, Siquijor, Tiktik, Wak-wak
