Of aswangs and sigbins

In a recent exchange of emails with my sisters, two of them mentioned this “aswang”, a label they had given a grey-haired woman who used to own the huts on a beach which our family frequented during our childhood days. I was amazed that I did not share this memory. I certainly remembered the woman, but not that we had ever thought she was an aswang.

Manananggal by hydeist17
(www.deviantart.com/art/
manananggal-87318427)

According to Philippine folklore, aswangs are shape-shifters. They are humans by day but transform into creatures (most often a dog) at night. They supposedly eat unborn fetuses and small children, favoring livers and hearts. I have a feeling that my sisters confused her with a manananggal, another mythical creature who is a woman by day and transforms into a winged monster-like creature at night. When darkness falls, her torso splits, allowing the upper half to fly away and hunt humans.

When I asked my sister to clarify the aswang thing, she said it was our eldest sister who said that the woman was an aswang. She surmised it was probably because the woman had scraggly, grey hair.

We laughed over it, but come to think of it – I did grow up at a time when mundane occurrences were given a colorful, exciting flavor because of all of this belief in the supernatural.

My mother hails from Tinaan town in Naga City, Cebu, which has a reputation among the olds of being full of ungo or supernatural beings. She’d even joke that all they needed were brooms to go from one place to another.

I remember her telling us also that when my father was courting her, she was warned against him because he belongs to a family of ungo. Why? His family allegedly owned or controlled a sigbin, which had reportedly been seen under their house.

Sigbin image taken from
www.filipiknow.net/top-10-terrifying-
philippines-mythical-creatures/

According to Bisaya folklore, a sigbin resembles a kangaroo, although it supposedly walks backward with its head tucked between its hind legs. It allegedly fancies children, particularly their hearts which are made into amulets.

It wasn’t just my mother. My father, who has roots in the south of Cebu, also told us that he once fell victim to mino, a spell supposedly cast by a supernatural being. He said it was getting dark when he set out from an uphill barangay for the highway in Barangay Canlumacad in Santander, Cebu. After walking for some time, he said he felt like he was going around in circles. His surroundings also seemed different. He freaked out when the path that should have taken him down to open road led him to a cemetery. My father remembered what the olds said one should do to shake off the mino. He took off his shirt and put it on backwards.

I, too, have a story to tell. I was very young when an incident convinced my parents that I had been hidden in another dimension. I was playing by myself in the backyard, not knowing that everyone was already looking for me. I did see Noy Leoning go past and look in my direction. My eldest sister, Tessa, also came quite close to where I was playing in the backyard and called me. I answered her but she looked right past me and did nothing so I assumed she just wanted to know where I was and that she was not interested in joining me in what I was doing.

When I finally got bored, I went into the house, where I found my mother quite upset. She thought I had slipped out of the house. Despite my claims, Noy Leoning and Tessa were adamant that they had not seen me when they went to the backyard to look for me. Convinced I had been “hidden”, they subjected me to a lot of questions but I really had nothing exciting to offer. I wasn’t in another “world”, I did not see a being. I was just in that backyard playing.

Now occupied by Prince Warehouse,
this building was converted into offices
of the MCWD in the 90s. Image borrowed
from "MUST SEE: the OLD CEBU"
 over http://www.istorya.net/  

Fast forward to the 90s when I worked at the Metro Cebu Water District, which then occupied a building built during the American colonial period and before World World II. I was alone and typing away at a computer inside the boardroom when I heard a high-pitched tone from the fax machine behind me. I glanced at it, expecting a fax message and wondering who would be sending it at that hour. Nothing. The LED display read “dialing 97374”.

I stared at it before I realized it was my home phone number. I pressed the memory button hoping for some clarity. Nothing. I suddenly felt cold. Inexplicably, it would seem that the fax machine behind me had dialed my home phone. Very slowly and calmly, I stood and walked to the door, which seemed forever to reach. As soon as I had it open, I shouted for Rudy, the utility guy who cleaned at that hour. He laughed when I told him what had happened. It seemed that I was not the only one who had reported something strange happening at the office.

Another time, I reported very early to finish some documents I needed for an 8 a.m. meeting when I looked up to see a small boy staring at me. I asked him who his parents were. At that, he turned around and ran. Afraid he was too small to navigate the stairs by himself, I went after him but could not find him. There was no one on the second floor. Or on the ground floor. I didn’t see him that day or ever after that. I later learned that others had experienced something similar.

It's been a while since I've had any unexplained experience. I think it's because I've grown up or rather, grown older and skeptical. I no longer react to creaks and noises in the night. I rationalize them.

Not so my 11-year-old daughter. I saw her gingerly turn on the light switch before she fully opened the door to our CR, then close all the cabinet doors that were ajar before pushing the shower curtain all the way to the side to fully reveal the shower area. Only then did she close the CR door behind her. 

It made me smile because I remember my sister, who always opened the door to a storage area inside the CR in our Lola’s house to make sure no one was inside while she used the toilet.

Maybe it’s time I share my horror stories with my daughter. :-)