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"The Witch" by Edilberto K Tiempo is a remarkable story that vividly portrays the rural Filipino folk traditions. Published in 1970, Edilberto K Tiempo and his wife Edith played a vital role in establishing and promoting excellence in creative writing and literary education at Siliman University. Throughout his career, he held various positions such as chair of the English Department, dean of the graduate school, vice-president for academic affairs, and writer-in-residence. Alongside Edith, they had the privilege of studying under Paul Engle at the lowa Writers' Workshop, an experience that served as inspiration for them to establish the Silliman National Writers Workshop in 1962.
This workshop was groundbreaking in Asia and remains active today. Additionally, Edilberto K Tiempo was honored with the prestigious Rockefeller fellowship."
The author has received multiple literary awards, such as the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP) Prize, the Palanca Awards, the UP Golden Anniversary Literary Contest prize, and the National Book Award. "THE WITCH" is a captivating and enlightening short story that sheds light on the significance of witches in Filipino culture.
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“ Ok, let me say I’m extremely satisfy with the result while it was a last minute thing. I really enjoy the effort put in. ”
These age-old traditions offer valuable insights into the beliefs and customs of the diverse Filipino population, which were largely eroded by Spanish, Muslim, Japanese, and American colonial influences. Fans of Irish folklore will recognize parallels in terms of animals serving as indicators of impending death through spiritual possession.
When I was twelve years old, I would frequently visit my uncle Tio Sabelo, the head teacher at the barrio school in Libas, which was about nine kilometers away from our town.
One of the main reasons I enjoyed going to Libas was the abundance of delicious food at my uncle's house. He had cane sugar syrup, candied young coconut meat, corn and rice cakes, ripe jackfruit, and guavas from the wild trees growing on a nearby hill. It was during these visits that I first heard about Minggay Awok, a witch from southern Leyte. Minggay's reputation as a witch extended beyond Libas to five neighboring sitios. Considering that people's nearest neighbors were often a couple of hills away, her notoriety was widespread. Her small hut was located at the back of a creek that separated Libas and Sinit-an barrios. The hut precariously perched on a steep incline, with large chunks of earth being eroded by the creek water during the rainy season. About six or seven meters below the hut, there were two trails that forked - one leading to Libas and the other to Mahangin, a mountain sitio.
Inside the hut, there were two small openings - a door that required Minggay to stoop to pass through and a window facing the creek that measured about two feet square. During the daytime, a frayed jute sacking served as a screen for the window, fluttering eerily. The contents of the hut were a mystery, with nobody knowing for sure what was inside. One daring individual claimed to have entered the hut when Minggay was away, revealing dirty bottles suspended from the bamboo slats of the cogon thatch. These bottles contained various insects such as scorpions, centipedes, beetles, bumble bees, as well as ash-colored powder and dark liquids - all tools of her witchcraft. Regardless of whether Minggay was at her clearing on a nearby hill or at the creek catching shrimps or gathering shells, she always carried two or three small bottles attached to her waistband alongside a bunch of iron keys. It was rumored that those who had wronged her would face severe consequences, such as festering carbuncles, chronic fevers causing skin withering, or a nose disease that eventually led to its decay.
Minggay possessed a unique skill that allowed her to manipulate insects. She would select one from a bottle, apply colored liquid or powder to it, and then release it upon her intended target. The only hope of curing the resulting disease was through an expensive tambalan ritual. As a result, Minggay earned a reputation as a fearsome figure in Libas and the surrounding areas. Numerous attempts had been made on her life, yet she always emerged unscathed, defying mysterious odds. One man even tried to burn down her hut but failed to harm Minggay. Another claimed to have killed her, displaying a bloodied bolo as evidence, only to witness her return to her clearing a week later. This man believed Minggay was responsible for the year-long rash afflicting his child. According to the story, Minggay once encountered this man's wife and asked to hold their child, causing the mother to reluctantly acquiesce in order to avoid offending Minggay.
The witch returned the child, commenting on his smooth skin. However, a few days later, the boy developed persistent skin eruptions all over his body. Minggay lived with only a thin, unproductive sow and a small number of black chickens as her companions. Although the sow would dig up sweet potatoes and the chickens would peck at rice or corn grain left in the sun, the neighbors were too afraid of Minggay's anger to drive them away. In addition to the sow and chickens, Minggay was believed to possess a wakwak and a sigbin. Those who claimed to have seen the sigbin described it as an odd animal resembling a kangaroo, with shorter forelegs and flapping fan-like ears. The wakwak, a large black bird similar to a crow, would loudly cry out when someone in the vicinity had passed away.
The bird was intended to serve as Minggay's messenger, while the sigbin transported her to the grave. The witch then exhumed the corpse and feasted upon it. Whenever I passed by her hut and saw her emaciated pig and dark poultry, I pondered if they transformed into extraordinary creatures at night. Even during the day, I feared encountering her. She might approach me on the pathway by her hut and make a remark about my face or any facial feature. This could result in living the remainder of my life with a cleft lip, a sunken nose, or crossed eyes. However, I never glimpsed Minggay inside her house or in proximity to the premises. At times, I speculated that she was merely a myth, a name used to frighten misbehaving children. Yet, I consistently observed her pig digging for banana roots or rolling around near the trail, as well as the black chickens scratching for worms or pecking at grains within her yard. Thus, the witch became undeniably real. On one occasion, I was instructed to deliver a bottle of medicine to Tio Sabelo's unwell wife in Libas.
I began my journey from the town at 5:30 in the evening. As I approached Minggay's hut, I could barely see the path ahead of me due to the darkness. The balete tree, known as Minggay's tree, stood across the creek. Minggay was notorious for sitting on one of the twisted vines that formed the grotesque trunk of the tree, waiting to frighten unsuspecting passers-by. The balete tree cast a towering and eerie shadow, while a firefly that fluttered among its vines seemed like a malevolent eye searching for its socket. Despite my fear, I couldn't go back as I had to deliver the medicine to Tio Sabelo's wife that night. I contemplated taking a different route through the dense underbrush, away from the balete tree, but I was afraid of encountering snakes. Using a coconut frond torch was out of question as it would attract the attention of the witch, and when she realized it was just a young boy... Steeling myself, I attempted to whistle as I walked past the balete tree, its hanging vines resembling hairy arms ready to grab and suffocate me amidst its branches.
Emerging into the stony bed of the creek, I noticed Minggay’s hut, with the screen in the window waving in the dimly lit room, giving me the impression of the witch peering behind it. As I proceeded up the trail by the hut, each moving clump and shadow seemed like a crouching old woman. There were tales of Minggay trying to ambush travelers in the darkness and drain their blood. Feeling fearful, I closed my eyes about twenty yards from the witch's hut and sprinted up the hill. Shortly after passing the hut, I tripped over a low stump but quickly regained my footing and continued running. By the time I reached Tio Sabelo’s house, I was exhausted and greatly shaken. Gradually, my terror of the balete and the witch's hut lessened, although I always felt a shiver down my spine whenever I passed them after dusk. On a moonlit night while heading back to town, I heard splashing coming from the water below Minggay’s house. I assumed it was the witch bathing in the creek with her hair cascading over her face.
It was not Minggay I saw. It was a large creature. I was about to run, thinking it was the sigbin of the witch. However, upon closer inspection, I realized it was a carabao wallowing in the creek. One morning, I had the idea of bringing home some shrimps for my mother. Thus, I went to a creek located a hundred yards away from Tio Sabelo’s house. I brought with me my cousin’s pana. This tool was made of a long steel rod with a pointed end and a cleft end. It was shot through the hollow of a bamboo joint using a rubber band attached to one end of the joint. After spending two hours wading through the creek, which twisted around bamboo groves and clusters of banban and ipil trees, I only managed to catch three small shrimps. I strung them on a coconut midrib and hung it from my belt. It was then that I unexpectedly encountered an elderly woman bathing in the shade of a catmon tree.
A brown tapis was wrapped around her, positioned three fingers above her slender chest. Beside her was an unbroken boulder, about a foot wide, serving as a ledge for a wooden basin. The basin contained damp, unwashed clothes. In front of her was a submerged stone pile topped with a large rock. On the rock were shredded coconut meat, a small discolored tin basin, lemon rinds, and pieces of pounded gogo bark. The woman was dampening her thin gray hair with the gogo suds. She likely noticed my approach as she did not appear surprised. Upon noticing the three small shrimps hanging by my side, she remarked, "Your catch is meager."
She appeared kind and resembled my grandmother in age. Despite being smaller, this elderly woman stood a few inches short of five feet. Her eyes looked surprisingly youthful, while her mouth, a thin line above her small chin, seemed to reflect a lifetime of hardships. "Why don't you entice them out of hiding? Take some of this," she offered, handing me a handful of shredded coconut meat from which she had extracted its milk using gogo suds for her hair. She emitted a pleasant scent of gogo bark and lemon rind. "Beyond the first bend," she gestured, "the water is calm. Scatter the shreds there. That's where I catch my shrimps. You may come across some traps. If there are shrimps in them, they're yours." Expressing my gratitude, I waded towards the bend she had pointed out. That section of the creek resembled a small lake, with one bank bordered by enormous boulders exhibiting lengthy cracks where the roots of gnarled dapdap trees had infiltrated.
The opposite bank of the river was sandy and had bamboo and catmon trees hanging over it, with their roots visible in the water. It provided good shade, and there was a slight chill in the air. The water was shallow except for the rocky side, which was deep and murky. I scattered coconut shreds around, and after a short while, shrimps emerged from holes under the bamboo and catmon roots as well as from crevices in the rocks. It didn't take me long to catch a handful of shrimps, some of which were aged or carrying eggs, while others were molting or had a dark green or speckled appearance. I noticed three woven bamboo traps nearby, round and about two feet long, with two hidden behind a catmon root. I decided not to disturb them since I had already caught enough shrimps for myself. The girl disagreed and said, "No, no, iti. Your mother will need them. You don't have enough. Besides, I have freshwater crabs at home." She glanced up at me with her peculiar young eyes and questioned, "Do you still have a mother?" I assured her that I did, as well as a grandmother. She then speculated, "You are not from Libas, I think."
"I have never seen you before," I said to her, explaining that I am from the town and my uncle is the head teacher of the Libas barrio school. "You remind me of my son when he was your age. He had bright eyes, just like yours, and his voice was soft, just like yours. I believe you are a good boy."
Intrigued by her son, I inquired about his whereabouts.
Sadly, she confessed that she hasn't heard from him since he left at seventeen years old. He departed in anger because she opposed his marriage at such a young age, and she has no knowledge of where he went or where he currently resides.
As she finished washing a kimona in the water, I noticed her thin arms with sagging flesh hanging from them. She expressed her hope that he is still alive and will return before she passes away.
When I asked about her husband, she responded that he passed away many years ago when their son was only eleven years old.
”She twisted the kimono like a rope to wring out the water. "I’m glad he died early. He was very cruel." I looked at her, at the thin mouth, wondering about her husband’s cruelty, disturbed by the manner she spoke about it. "Do you have other children?" "I wish I had. Then I wouldn’t be living alone." A woman her age, I thought, should be a grandmother and live among many children. "Where do you live?" She did not speak, but her strange young eyes were probing and looked grotesque in the old woman’s face. "Not far from here--the house on the high bank, across the balete." She must have seen the fright that suddenly leaped into my face, for I thought she smiled at me queerly. "I’m going now," I said. I felt her following me with her eyes; indeed they seemed to bore a hot hole between my shoulder blades.
I continued forward without looking back, mentally urging myself not to run. However, as soon as the creek curved and I was out of sight, I couldn't resist the impulse and started running. Eventually, I stopped, feeling somewhat foolish. The frail and vulnerable-looking elderly woman couldn't possibly be Minggay, the witch. Her kind voice and the scent of wood reminded me of my own grandmother. While walking, the line of shrimps kept brushing against my leg. I detached it from my belt and examined the shrimps. With the exception of three small ones, all of them belonged to the old woman. Through some kind of magical coaxing with her coconut shreds, she had managed to lure them out of hiding. The eyes of the largest shrimp, still alive, appeared to glare at me—as if they transformed into the witch's eyes. Filled with anger, I angrily threw the shrimps back into the creek.
Minggay, also known as Minggay Awok, is an elderly woman who has been given the derogatory label of a "witch" in barrio Libas Tio Sabelo. She is also the head teacher of the barrio school.
According to stories, there is a witch called MinggayAwok (awok, which means witch in the Visayan language) who lives near the creek that separates the barrios of Libas and Sinit-an. The people in the barrios are fearful of her because of her strange appearance, her solitary lifestyle, and her infrequent visits. Whenever something strange happens, they always blame Minggay. As a result, they have attempted to kill her multiple times in order to break the alleged curse she placed on them. However, their suspicions have never been proven. One day, a boy who sometimes visits his uncle in Libas encounters an old woman while fishing in the creek. She kindly directs him to a spot where he can catch more shrimp. They chat until the boy realizes that she is the "witch" he has heard about. He quickly leaves with the shrimp, conflicted about his encounter with the witch's contrasting image as an old woman by the creek.
"The Witch" is a narrative that revolves around a young woman who enjoyed visiting her uncle in a nearby town. She had been told stories about an adjacent witch's dwelling, which instilled fear in her whenever she had to pass by it. As the story progresses, she discovers that the witch is actually a kind elderly woman. However, due to the accumulation of years of hearing negative tales, she is unable to trust the witch's attempts to assist her. This particular story can be categorized under eco-criticism theory since the author effectively utilizes the described setting to vividly depict the scenes and concepts. The environment in which the story transpires plays a significant role in conveying its underlying message, aiding the reader in comprehending the story's essence.
Exploring Filipino Folklore: "The Witch" by Edilberto K Tiempo. (2016, Sep 16). Retrieved from https://studymoose.com/the-witch-by-edilberto-k-tiempo-essay
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