If you were to ask my Mama about
wakwaks and
aswangs, and
enkantados, she will, matter of factly, tell you theyre real.
With our currect financial situation it is hard to imagine that Mama and her family were once the richest family in the whole of Surigao.
During nights when the power is out, we would lie on our beds and listen to each other breathe. Then from out of nowhere Mama’s horse voice, tired of pronouncing “a e i o u s” to her Grade 1 students all day, would rise above the jeepneys’ angry broooom!s.
“We are so lucky, we have sturdy walls and relatively new se’en over our heads. This way the wakwak would not get to us easily.
When I was about 6, I lived with Popo near the beach. Popo would burn dry coconut leaves to drive away mosquitoes and other insects every late afternoon. I would take a break from collecting shells and little coral fishes and sit beside the glowing embers until sundown. When the fire and the light starts to fade Popo would usher me inside our kubo. The moment the sea drowns the sunset,wawaks attack. The coconut leaves would form shadows and the call of the wakwak and its beating wings would assault the night.”
Now, we’ve heard of this story several times before but we do not object to Mama’s re-telling of it. We were without electricity for nearly 3 years and no running water for over a year. We needed the entertainment and the goodbumps to cool us.
“I would stay away from the walls and the floors. Popo would take out a yellowed little book and a wooden crucifix and would mumble uncomprehendibly. One night, the calling was unusually loud. I can tell our predators were big by the swish of thier bat like wings in the air. I dare not peep between the loosely bundled nipa which makes up both the roof and the walls. I climbed a table because some of them were under the kubo too. They would hook thier claws in the bamboo framing of the walls and the roof and the kubo would shake furiously. But Popo did not show fear. I never saw him do. Popo’s chanting grew louder and louder until he was shouting on top of his lungs! Suddently, the kubo steadied. And the loud “waaaaaak! waaaaaak! waaaaaak!” became faint and seemingly distant.”
I didnt notice i was squeezing my eyes shut. My Mama has her eyes closed too.
“Remember this, all of you. Do not be decieved by the softening of the wakwak’s call. Instead, open all your senses and ready yourself to run or be bitten. The wakwak whispers when its very very near.”
A faint and seemingly distant call woke me up one really hot night. And lo and behold, huge bat-like wings spread, and eyes… Eyes red and large, staring straight and unmoving, displayed right before me, hooked to the steel railing of our house’s windows by my imagined nails, long and bloodied.
The story never failed to terrorize I and my sisters, but strangely enough we were always glad to hear it and be reminded of it. I would add my little “experiences” during our sessions and so would my little sisters. When one is sharing the rest of the group would listen and nod after each testimonial accepting it to be true.
Today, after especially trying days, I would wake up in the middle of the night, all sweaty. The lights would be off and moolight would spill from the open window and after over 14 years the wakwak would terrorize me again.
