‘Helping enforce the law in a corrupted society where malevolent creatures pervade politics and the bureaucracy, Alexandra Trese must also confront jealous gods who demand devotion.’
POLTERGEIST? Or worse? From Domingo Fernandez Navarrete, O.P. (Manila and the Philippines about 1650): “From Manila, where I remained several days, I went to Batam, where I suffered the greatest discomforts and uneasiness from witches or goblins. We do not know what it was, but the result showed that it was a work of the devil. Considerable danger to any man was not experienced, but we heard rumblings and noises, and stones were thrown. The house became dirty in an instant, and was clean again as quickly. Chairs were overthrown with great swiftness, and we could not see who moved them; and such things as that did we see with our eyes. We passed whole nights without sleeping.” [The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume XXXVII, 1669-1676]
This incident from Navarrete’s chronicle (Tratados historicos, Madrid, 1676) seems tailor-made for the Filipina occult investigator Alexandra Trese. How so? You have to grok what the Filipinos feel. “The Indians of Filipinas did not offer sacrifices to the demon because they believed that he was some divinity, for they had knowledge of his being an evil spirit: but through fear, so that by keeping him satisfied he should do them no harm, or else that he might aid them to carry out some depraved purpose.” – Rev. Tirso López, O.S.A. [The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume XXXVIII, 1674-1683]
Ms. Trese’s world (a tikbalang speeding down EDSA, supernatural criminals, a manananggal swooping across the Makati skyline, Nuno sa Manhole) echoes ancient horrors. Investigate the flesh-feasters: “In almost every large village (speaking of Samar and Leyte) there are one or more families of Asuáns, who are universally feared and avoided, and treated as outcasts, and who can marry only among their own number; they have the reputation of being cannibals. Are they perhaps descended from men-eaters? The belief is very general and deeply rooted. When questioned about this, old and intelligent Indians answered that certainly they did not believe that the Asuáns now ate human flesh, but their forefathers had without doubt done this.”
“Cannibals, properly speaking, in the Philippines were not mentioned by the early writers.
Pigafetta had heard that on a river at Cape Benuian (the northern point of Mindanao) a people lived who cut out only the heart of a captured foe, and ate it with lemon-juice. Dr. Semper (Philippinen, p. 62) found the same practice, except the use of lemon-juice, on the eastern coast of Mindanao.” (Jagor, Reisen, p. 236) [The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume 52, 1841-1898]
Helping enforce the law in a corrupted society where malevolent creatures pervade politics and the bureaucracy, Alexandra Trese must also confront jealous gods who demand devotion. She was not the first witness: “The human sacrifice is called huaga, and is only practiced among the Bagobos and most barbarous heathen of Mindanao. The victim is offered to the Mandarangan, the god of the mountain or volcano of Apo; this person’s value is generally apportioned among those who participate in the sacrifice, and he who pays most is the first to wound the unfortunate victim. The latter is cut into mincemeat in a moment amid the horrifying cries of his infamous executioners. Thanks to the painstaking vigilance of the authorities of that district, and to the incessant care of the missionaries, so impious and criminal a ceremony is almost entirely eradicated, and is only practiced in secret, in the densest woods. In addition to the huaga, there are true cases of cannibalism among the Baganis, who are wont to eat the raw entrails of those who fall before their lances, krises, and balaraos in battle. They do that as a mark of bravery. They have a proverb which says: ‘I am long accustomed to eat the entrails of men’. (Pastells and Retana’s Combés, cols. 657, 658)” [The Philippine Islands, 1493-1898, Volume 40]
Ms. Trese’s competitive advantage as a private detective stems from her status as a shaman-warrior, and her forbears were formidable for a time: “The Tagálogs called those cursed ministers catalonan, and the Visayans babaylan. Some were priests by inheritance and relationship; others by the dexterity with which they caused themselves to be instructed and substituted in the office of famous priests by gaining their good-will. Others were deceived by the devil with his wonted wiles, and made a pact with him to assist them, and to hold converse with him through their idols or anitos; and he appeared to them in various forms.” [Francisco Colin, S.J. Chapter XV: “Of the false heathen religion, idolatries, superstitions, and other things, of the Filipinos.” Native races and their customs. Madrid, 1663]
Alexandra Trese has an unenviable case load, for instance, a pop-up restaurant that only opens its doors during Valentine’s Day and where kidnap victims are served for dinner.
[Trese Book 7: Table for Three] The chef was an aswang, which has five versions: “(1) the blood-sucking vampire, (2) the self-segmenting viscera sucker, (3) the man-eating were-dog, (4) the vindictive witch, and (5) the carrion-eating ghoul.” [Maximo Ramos, “The Aswang Syncrasy in Philippine Folklore,” Western Folklore, Vol. 28, No. 4, October 1969, pp. 238-248]
Finale! Evoking Trese’s clash with Talagbusao, we share The Battle of the Enchanters.
“There was once a poor boy who was very ambitious to learn, and with the consent of his parents he bound himself to an enchanter who was a very wise man. The boy remained with him for a very long time, until at last his master sent him home, saying that he could teach him nothing more. The boy went home, but there he found nothing in the way of adventure, so he proposed to his father that he should become a horse, which his father could sell for twenty pesos to his late teacher. He cautioned his father that, as soon as he received the money for the horse, he should drop the halter as if by accident.
“The young man then became a horse, and his father took him to the enchanter, who gave him 20 pesos. As soon as the money was in the father’s hand, he dropped the halter, and the horse at once became a bird which flew away. The enchanter metamorphosed himself into a hawk and followed. The bird was so hard pressed by the hawk that it dived into the sea and became a fish. The hawk followed and became a shark. The fish, being in danger from the shark, leaped out on to the dry ground and took the shape of a crab, which hid in a spring where a princess was bathing. The shark followed in the shape of a cat, which began to search under the stones for the crab, but the crab escaped by changing itself into a ring on the finger of the princess.
“Now it chanced that the father of the princess was very sick, and the enchanter went to the palace and offered to cure him for the ring on the finger of the princess. To this the king agreed, but the ring begged the princess not to give him directly to the enchanter, but to let him fall on the floor. The princess did this, and as the ring touched the floor it broke into a shower of rice. The enchanter immediately took the form of a cock and industriously pecked at the grains on the floor. But as he pecked, one of the grains changed to a cat which jumped on him and killed him.
“The young man then resumed his own form, having proven himself a greater man than his master.” [Fletcher Gardner, “Tagalog Folk-Tales,” JAFL 20: 104-120; 300-310]
