Aswang

When my grandfather was approximately 27 years old, a narra tree located outside his residence in the Philippines was consistently filled with bats. In an attempt to disperse them, he ventured outside armed with a gun. After firing a shot, the bats appeared unperturbed. Undeterred, he fired another shot, yet the bats remained unaffected. However, at that moment, a distinct "kas kas" sound resonated, causing the bats to swiftly depart. My grandfather firmly believes that this sound emanated from an aswang, a creature notorious for its terror-inducing reputation in the Philippines. Similar to the bats, he promptly made his exit from the area. This account presents my personal interpretation of one of the prevalent legends associated with aswangs.

Maria, a woman who resided in Capiz, a province in the Visayan region of the Philippines, made the tough choice to seek employment overseas after losing her job. Her spouse, Juan, struggled to support their family solely on his salary as a policeman. Despite the difficult decision, Maria decided to work abroad and send money back home. This choice was not unique to Maria, as many Filipinos have faced similar circumstances. However, Juan reassured her that it was in the best interest of their family. He promised regular communication and reminded her that her absence would not be permanent. Juan vowed to search for a higher-paying job, and Maria would continue her job hunt until they could be together again. Eventually, Maria relocated to Canada and secured a position as a caregiver for a wealthy elderly man named Peter who had a peculiar personality.

Maria had previously been a caregiver for numerous individuals, but this particular man stood out. He had an unusual request: every night, after sundown, he wanted Maria to lock his bedroom and refrain from entering until morning. He handed her a set of keys, each one corresponding to one of the six locks on the door. Maria found his insistence on privacy somewhat excessive. "But what if you need my assistance in the middle of the night?" she asked. "I won't," he replied. "Are you some sort of vampire?" Maria inquired jokingly. "Come now, Maria. Vampires aren't real," he chuckled. Once the old man had been securely locked in, Maria called her family. Since international calls were quite expensive, she only allowed herself one conversation per week. She shared with Juan the peculiar request of the old man. "It worries me. What if something happens to him while he's locked in, and I can't get in?" she expressed her concern. "Maybe he's just a light sleeper and doesn't like to be disturbed," Juan suggested. "What do you think will happen if the police find him dead in a room I sealed shut? They might arrest me. I'm not sure if this is a good idea," Maria fretted. "You'll be fine. He's paying nearly triple what others would pay. We need this, Maria," Juan reassured her. And so, Maria continued with her caregiving duties. She helped Peter in the bathroom, prepared his meals and medication, and even played card games with him. Despite his old age and frailty, his mind remained sharp.

Peter shared stories with Maria about his three children, one of whom was a doctor, another a lawyer, and the third a teacher. As he spoke of them, his face lit up with the pride of a loving father. "How often do you see them?" Maria asked. "Oh my, I can't even remember the last time I saw them in person," Peter replied. "They don't visit you? That's terrible!" Maria exclaimed, feeling a heaviness in her chest. However, Ha seemed completely unaffected by their absence. "They have their own lives," he said nonchalantly.