Aswang in the Farm (Based on a true story)

“Papa, tinood ang aswang? Hadlok ka?” (Papa, is there really an aswang / monster? Are you afraid of them?)

Andy, my 3-year-old daughter was so serious when she asked me this question and I was taken back to my experience in a company farm, in the farm manager’s room. People say paranormal activities were happening inside and one manager recounted his experience—an old lady with long black hair and a blank space where a face should be, looming over his head upon waking up mid-dawn. This made him scream his lungs out, hastily left the room, and stayed up all night, shaking and wondering if it was just a bad dream. No one dared to sleep in the same room since.

The same room then had an occupant after a very long time when in one of my farm visits, I was informed that there are no more rooms left but the infamous farm manager’s room. Curiosity and maybe a little bit of laziness in seeking out a hotel room in the area without prior reservations got the best of me and I decided to spend the night in the dreaded room. Alone.

The room is old, yet clean and comfortable which smelled of wet wood that reminded me of my grandmother’s house when it rained. The internet signal is almost non-existent and the TV set is broken, so that meant sleeping (and praying) are my only options to pass the night. However, I cannot sleep as the urban legend repeats restlessly in my mind and the horror scene goes screaming inside my head. I was experiencing a slight apprehension that I had never quite overcame—the fear of the unknown or the so-called “elementals”. Although this is not my first time to experience these supernatural events and prided myself in knowing Karate (but I realized that Karate is non-sense in this bone-chilling situation), I had never been more afraid. I am very certain that I can feel eyes at the back of my head, watching my every move. It felt like it was the longest night of my life, but when I checked my watch, it is not even 10:00 in the evening. Battling this eerie feeling, I decided to pray the Holy Rosary. When I reached the third mystery, it was then that I heard a strange and disturbing noise.

I tried to brush the fear aside, rationalizing that the noise was only brought about by the packing house’s continued loading operation from afar. However, I began to suspect something more sinister when the sound was drawing closer to my room. I heard heavy footsteps grew louder and closer and a scratching noise that is getting nearer and nearer. Then, I saw the doorknob twist itself open. Feeling helpless, I willed myself to remain calm. Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I told to myself, “This will be a defining moment of my life. The outcome of this situation will glorify me or put me into shame.”

Suddenly, the door opened with a loud creak which revealed a silhouette of a largely built man. I watched him enter the dimly lit room and tried to mask my surprise as he turned to me and asked: “Naay mamon diri? (Are there some cupcakes here?)

I almost burst into laughter when the situation turned instantly from horrifying to comedic. Immense relief washed over me when I greeted him and answered, “Check lang sa ref, Sir Meloy. Basig naay makaon diha.” (Just check the fridge, Sir Meloy. Probably there is some food stored in there.)

Weeks after that incident, a question for reflection during one of the Values Sessions triggered me to revisit my “almost supernatural” experience in the farm: If it’s your last day tomorrow, what are the things you’ll do today? In hindsight, the central metaphor of this aswang resonates true to the human experience of being weak, corruptible, and the inability to face the inner self. These monsters suffocate our real world and it incapacitates us to settle our identity problems. Deep within, we create and nurture our aswang; feeding them devours our soul.

In my mind, this aswang can be conquered through reconciliation, but there is a hidden force that prevents me from doing so. Perhaps, the monster that I have been feeding with negative thoughts, anxiety, and doubts is the one that has been pulling me back all this time.

It dawned on me that my aswang is represented by my fear of looking into the man in the mirror to see the real me. I was afraid to discover and embrace my imperfections and my mistakes in the past—to see how self-centered I am, and my lack of ability to empathize. I was afraid to see that some of my approaches and attitude to a specific situation were wrong, and most of what I carelessly do and express are due to my well-fed bad habit of invalidating feelings. I felt upset and almost ended up hating myself. I have become that dreadful aswang which I used to fear, silently hurting any type of relationship.

By the time I summoned up the courage and looked at the figurative man in the mirror, I realized that if there are several ways of facing one’s fears, it is easier to gravitate to the least demanding course of action. We run away. We escape. We withdraw from the situation. We refuse to see the real picture and believe that everything is going well and that there is no need to redirect our attention. However, it is still not the best course of action.

Am I going to escape? Or am I going to reconcile?

Andy, I am telling you: There is an aswang. But I have conquered it this time. (Francis Manayan)