Documenting Aswangs
As far as world mythology goes, few people outside of Filipinos are really aware of Philippine myth. The problem in my opinion is lack of documentation. There are few books written in the vein of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology
The dilemma of working with an oral tradition is that it results in numerous variations, without one “definitive” account. This isn’t aided by the fact that the Philippines is composed of more than a thousand islands, a hundred or so dialects, and three significant island groups (Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao). The delineation of each region (and I use the term “region” in the loosest sense as each city, province, or even a town can be considered a “region” even if that’s not how they are defined legally) isn’t as clear-cut. Many Filipinos identify themselves as Cebuanos (hailing from Cebu) or Batangenyos (hailing from Batangas) or Ilocanos (hailing from Ilocos) first before considering themselves citizens of the Philippines. (The closest analogy I have is how some Americans are proud that they’re from Boston or from New York except in the case of the Filipinos, their sense of loyalty to their region trumps their sense of loyalty to the nation.)
For example, one of the rituals we inherited from Spain was The Pasyon (The Passion), a lyrical narrative read aloud during Easter which is an account of Christ’s trials and tribulations. Each region will have its own variation, drawing inspiration from sources such as Apocrypha, native practices, or the imaginative improvisation of the original missionaries and storytellers. A commonly-included theme for example is the Assumption of Mary which isn’t present in the canonical bible (but debated by theologians and scholars). On the side of the crazier variants, my professor recounted to us a scene where during Good Friday, Christ descends into hell after his death, challenges the Devil to a fist-fight, and kicks his ass by the time he gets resurrected on Easter Sunday.
As an aspiring writer, all these variations (sometimes conflicting with each other) can be frustrating. There’ll always be someone who’ll claim “that’s now how it is!” I don’t think it’s possible to write anything definitive when it comes to Philippine myth. On the other hand, this is also a rich resource because the possibilities are endless. For some people, the quintessential vampire might be Byron or Stoker but you don’t have that kind of limitation when it comes to our folklore. In the July/August 2008 issue of Weird Tales, Mike Mignola (Hellboy) captures it best with this statement:
“I hate rules and regulations in supernatural stuff. I hate things like coming up with formulas that say, “If you’re bitten by a vampire, after three days you turn into a vampire.” That’s not in the old folklore, and in my view, as soon as you put rules on things, it becomes science fiction… There’s a mystery. I’ve tried to emulate that unknowable thing.”
With Philippine myth, you get just that, especially since our literature hasn’t gotten to the point of getting overused. It’s also probably not too far of a stretch to claim that anything you could possibly conceive is an existing belief by some indigenous island or tribe. In addition, movies and pop culture have shaped the public’s perception of our own myths and creating new amalgams, in the same way lycanthropes have become hybrid wolf-men instead of merely a man shapeshifting into a wolf.
One such creature I’d like to bring your attention to is that of the aswang. This is easily the most iconic creature of Philippine myth as it’s popularized by TV and movies. The problem with the word is that in certain contexts, it’s a catch-all term for various supernatural creatures. It’s about as general as the word “fey” (which includes the seelie and unseelie court). Wikipedia has a longer article on the aswangs although as I said before, the account there is not by any means definitive (and even I have my own skepticism about that particular Wikipedia entry).
Mangkukulam
An aswang could refer to a mangkukulam. In one of the selections in Philippine Folk Literature Series: Vol III, The Legends (published by U.P. Press), this is clearly the case, specifically the Tagalog, Zambales, and Aklanon traditions.
The closest Western equivalent I have for mangkukulams are witches. They aren’t hags with pimply faces or sharp pointed hats. Instead, they can appear as men or women, old or beautiful, varying from story to story.
What is common to all of them is they have the ability to place curses on people. They can inflict strange diseases on you (called a kulam) such as unnatural boils. They can insert objects like coins, bones, or needles into your body without parting the flesh, thus causing the recipient to suffer internal pains.
The most terrifying mangkukulam is its resemblance to voodoo witches. Through the use of a doll which serves as the avatar of its victim, a mangkukulam can make someone suffer the same experiences the doll is subjected to. If the mangkukulam wants to impair someone’s vision, they can stick a needle in the doll’s eyes for example.
What makes a mangkukulam’s curses so horrible is that it cannot be cured by modern medicine. Each story ends with a different way of curing the said curses (if any). One way is to make peace with the mangkukulam or if they feel that someone has suffered enough. Another is to seek the help of an arbularyo, which is best described as a faith healer (and easily the opposite of a mangkukulam). The third is to get baptized as the Holy Spirit or God’s Grace will protect you from a mangkukulam’s sorcerous powers.
To be fair, there is a method to a mangkukulam’s nature. Usually, one is cursed by a mangkukulam because you did something to offend him or her. Typically, they might appear as poor men and women asking for alms. They could also be regular people with a profession and they don’t declare vengeance upon you until you insult their job (in one story, a boy is inflicted with curses because he complained about the mangkukulam’s cooking).
Manananggal
Where I’m from, when you speak of aswangs, you’re really referring to manananggal. Kristin Mandigma’s Clarkesworld Magazine story, ”Excerpt from a Letter by a Social-Realist Aswang”, follows this variant.
Its root word of the term is tanggal which roughly translates as “to detach”. This aswang (almost always a beautiful female) is called a manananggal because of its ability to separate her upper torso from her lower body (usually leaving abdomen and everything below on the ground) and sprout bat-like wings to hunt at night.
The iconic manananggal is from the 1984 film Shake, Rattle, and Roll (here’s a YouTube video of the pivotal scene in the film). What makes her a menace is her ability to stretch her tongue (which resembles more an umbilical cord or perhaps even a flexible small intestine) to feed on the unborn babes of pregnant women. The creature’s tongue subtly enters a sleeping woman’s vagina and slowly sucks the unborn fetus. Its prey is unconscious during the entire incident and only notices that they’ve had a miscarriage when they wake up. (In many ways, the manananggal is a bizarre opposite of the incubus. The latter gets you pregnant while the former robs you of your fecundity.)
In a pre-modern society, the manananggal’s ability to fly is a valuable asset. Not only does it enable them to sneak out of their house without using the front door (the Philippines was a patriarchy when it was colonized by Spain) but it also allows them to feed on women’s fetuses without ever entering their room as they can simply hover by the window and let their extendable tongue do the rest.
A manananggal can be slain through many ways. One is to prevent them from returning to their lower body, perishing when they come in contact with sunlight. This is accomplished by various methods, such as sprinkling the top of their lower body part with salt, vinegar, ashes, or garlic. (There’s supposedly a local town in Batangas wherein their roofs are studded with garlic to prevent manananggals from preying on its residents.) Sometimes crucifixes and holy water also serve as a good replacement.
In some stories, especially when multiple manananggals are involved, cunning can be used to outwit manananggals. One can hide their lower bodies (say, in a closet) or switch them around (apparently, a manananggal is incapable of distinguishing her own bottom from that of other manananggals). In various traditions, men who succeeded in outwitting manananggals ransom their lower bodies in exchange for marriage (Selkie myths anyone?).
The origins of manananggals are too numerous to mention. If you give them a potion to drink and hang them outside down, they’ll vomit a black crow which is the cause of their transformation. In another account, it is a magical oil which they spread on their skin that enables them to change their shape. It could be hereditary or infectious. There’s even one theory where cosmic balance is involved (when one manananggal dies, another person takes its place) and Faustian pacts is not out of the question. Storytellers are free to pick their own variation or perhaps even invent their own explanations.
Interestingly enough, there are also variations of the manananggal in neighboring countries. Malaysia, which I’m not too familiar with, has the penanggalan. Instead of detaching one’s upper body, it is merely the head that flies around. As a D&D player, this reminds me of the vargouille. Another similar variation from Indonesia is the leyak.
Shapeshifters
Of less interesting variation to me is the place of aswangs as shapeshifters. Depending on which stories you follow, they can turn into cats, large dogs, birds, chickens, and large black boars. Other than the innate traits of those animals (a dog/boar’s ferocity), there is nothing further remarkable about them.
In the movies, the manananggal and shapeshifter aspects of the aswang are typically combined. When not in its flying-woman form, an aswang also appears as wild boar, hunting its prey in the fields. This reminds me of the dual aspect of the vampire which in some versions can turn into a wolf (or at the very least command them) as well.
As writers, the ability to select and combine these various elements of an aswang gives you much room to tell your own story. The lack of consistency also gives it an air of mystery that is missing in many documented (and standardized) myths and legends.
Charles Tan is a speculative fiction fan from the Philippines. He has lots of online doppelgangers, including a Singaporean politician and a Filipino basketball player, but people should be warned that the “real” Charles Tan is a bibliophile who stalks his favorite authors. His blog, Bibliophile Stalker is updated with daily content including book reviews, interviews, and essays. He is also a contributor for SFF Audio.
2 comments so far.
Multo is probably a more apt descriptor of ghost.
Aswang is too vague a term that it could mean spirits or some other strange creature.
1. Ace on 16th January 2009 at 1:24 am
wow. And here I thought aswang = ghost.
Or was it multo (sp?) = ghost and aswang = spirit.
It’s been a looong time.
But I know about the manananggals.