When Witchcraft is an Open Secret
It can become a frightening concept that validates false theories and creates its own truth.
When the earth was young and heaven was not as distant and far, a group of people inherited an “ilmuh,” an ancient knowledge. This knowledge awakens a supernatural force that can affect the person or people to whom it is directed. It can curse that person, cause strange changes in his behavior, and even make him sick. While one can consider having this as a blessing, most consider it a curse because of the consequences of using it.
Witchcraft, a trinket of the past or of a backwards society, is always depicted in some old, aesthetically torn-down, yet strangely whimsical, little hut. When this is shown, it always brings to mind a duality of ideas, almost a juxtaposition: quaint but dangerous, small but powerful, ancient but free.
In any portrayal of witchery, it is always described as mysterious and depicted as something bad, a source of evil that should only bring about disaster and destruction of human life. We learn about this in movies and read it in books (e.g., the Serpent and Dove Series by Shelby Mahurin).
There are varying reasons that condemn witchcraft, but on the southernmost islands of the Philippines, it is taboo because it goes against the people’s faith.
Tawi-Tawi has its own ideas of mystery that scare tourists away. Most of these stories do not have any truths to them, some nurse a few, while others are truly reasons for fear.
Witchcraft is one of the truths that waits and floats on the surfaces of our seas, one that has taken roots in its depths.
If you think, however, that witchcraft is completely ostracized from our community, you’d be wrong.
While it is not encouraged and participation in it is frowned upon, many people, even professionals, resort to witchcraft in certain circumstances. Although I wouldn’t say it is thriving, it exists in our society, has found a role to play in it, and makes its way into our mundane conversations.
The first time that I heard about witchcraft was when I was preparing for a year-end party for my class in elementary. It was the first time that I heard of the term palmanis.
Like any day of the past, I remember it as one with a beautiful stream of sun rays permeating the spaces around me, although I cannot decide whether this was because of the golden hour or because traces of memories always had that nostalgic glow.
I remember feeling pressured and shy having to sit in front of a stranger and being told to behave so as not to disturb the make-up process.
This stranger is a gay friend of my aunt. He was swiftly tracing the curve of my cheekbones with a soft, feathery brush when my mother asked whether he knew any form of palmanis and was told to cast it on me.
I didn’t understand what it meant, but based from the context, I assumed it had something to do with glamorizing oneself.
I noticed, however, that when they talked about this, they attempted to pass it off as an ordinary topic, but my mother’s embarrassed brows, this gay uncle’s abrupt pauses, and all the silences that they permitted to fill the awkward spaces made me understand that it’s a taboo topic.
At the back of my mind, I knew it was something supernatural, but I hadn’t thought anything of it because I grew up in a superstitious province, so it wasn’t anything new.
When I asked about this later, I learned that it is an ilmuh, which, once read or chanted, grants the person a boost in beauty. I know most people can’t imagine how that happens, but the idea is that it makes the person more noticeable, more feminine, and more beautiful. Others say its effect is more on the sex appeal of a person.
Palmanis is usually used in pageantry, and while only a few I know claimed to have explicitly witnessed it being performed, it is a known fact that it is always the last step of a make-up routine at such events.
This incident was followed by many more encounters with other people’s experiences and gossip heard and made about other forms of witchery.
Witchcraft isn’t pervasive nor practiced regularly, however mundane it became. Most of the time, what is being spread is the idea, not exactly the performance, of witchcraft.
Belief was never a question that I cared to ask when it came to this side of my culture. It is such a deep-rooted truth that arguing against it is a futile act.
My problem with witchcraft, however, is the effect that it has on my society — how it blurs the lines between superstition and real acts of crime or other toxic acts.
Witchcraft first came to our society as a sin, a shirk (associating partners with God). We believe that it came as a test from God (SWT). So, a Muslim who is supposed to patiently trust in God’s solutions and plans, resorting to asking for help from a force that’s in itself considered a result of people’s greed, is believed to have committed a grave sin.
However, like how the first test went, there are still people who opt to participate in witchery. The more people involved themselves with witchcraft, the lesser the idea and gravity of sin became. When this happened, witchcraft ceased to exist as a shirk and became a part of the culture.
This unnoticeable shift in people’s perspectives created an opportunity to modify and extend the meanings associated with it. This is then solidified by the claims of some people who patronized it and said that it solved their problems and concerns. Witchcraft then became a practical option and solution.
A few narratives that emerged about it went like this:
“A man cheats on his wife, the wife hides a knife that has been charmed or chanted an ilmuh on, and then, voila! The man leaves his mistress, repents, and cries in regret in front of his wife. He then hugs his children and apologizes to them, and they live happily ever after.”
“On one island, a new wooden ferry, or lansa, steals most of another ferry’s business partner establishments. One of them asks for the assistance of a paghinang-hinang, or witchcraft, and surprise, surprise! The other ferry sinks on its next business trip without proper explanations.”
These kinds of narratives traveled across the islands, each version more fantastical than the next. It rounded the mountains, peeked behind a blanket of skies, and was passed from one whisper to another until witchcraft slowly traced a careful line above the ones it had erased and blurred out.
Its role evolved and has now shifted to become a plausible theory.
When a relative has died and there is something amiss or unusual about the death, people start all these conspiracy theories. In fact, I have experienced this myself.
There are times when death takes someone close to you, so it hovers around you for days. When death feels so fast, so abrupt and close, it becomes a tangible emotion that you can almost touch, feel, and consume, so much so that you start to reconstruct the reality in front of you.
It almost feels like a series of cogs slowly locking into the right spaces.
You start to misinterpret the events leading to the death. It will become confusing because you will find suspicion where there is none. Then you realize that all these strange strings of events will make sense if this death is a result of witchcraft.
This “theory” will go around the family, and while the uncertainties are acknowledged, there will still be people who will believe it to be the case.
I have seen it happen many times in mental conditions too.
In the province, you see, not many people are properly educated about mental health. The labels are limited to sane and crazy. It is saddening. Even the words “stress” and “depression” are thrown here and there on a daily basis and are substitutes for severe fatigue.
So people who may be suffering from mental conditions because of the effects of drugs, trauma, and depression become “crazy people” when they show strange behaviors (e.g., self-harm). Once these behaviors become severe and persist for years, the person is believed to have been targeted by witchcraft.
I learned about this when I heard the story of this one singer who my aunt idolizes.
This singer, accordingly, always needs people looking after her, or else she will march to the streets and undress in the middle of them.
It is said that the only time she is sane is when she is singing. Sometimes people see her cry while singing, and seeing how cheerful and lively of a person she was before, people claim that someone must have become jealous of her success and cast a spell on her, making her go “crazy.”
The problem is that once people believe she has been cursed, it stops being a crime. It becomes a natural phenomenon of life. Families, who are supposed to seek help to the right authorities, accept what happened as the fate of that person and stops there.
There have even been instances when a person was harmed and it was clearly an act of crime, but no investigation was made because the family did not report it, accepting that it was because of witchcraft.
There is no evidence, of course, that this was the case, and most of these come from hunches and subjective observations.
One incident that comes to mind is about this hafiz (a person studying the Qur’an) who was on his way back to his home island after visiting the island most known for witchcraft. He fell ill while still on the boat, vomited out blood, and died. Later, it was discovered that he had tiny pieces of broken glass inside him. His friends assumed it was from the coke he drank.
When I learned about it from my student, who was one of the companions of this person, I asked repeatedly why the family had not asked for it to be investigated. He said that the family claimed it was because of witchcraft.
I sat down to think about this and realized that perhaps the reason why many of the people depend on witchcraft so much is because of the justice system in the province.
I am not familiar with the investigation process, but I understand that it’s common knowledge on the islands that it takes too long. In most cases, there is a lack of evidence, so the case becomes cold.
There are many other alarming ways that witchcraft blurs out boundaries, replacing truths and reasons. Most times, it becomes frustrating, especially when I observe that I am also falling into the same pit.
To be honest, I have now become numb to all these, and this is how scary the effects of witchcraft can be. The numbing is what starts the transition.
Today, witchcraft is just a remnant of the earlier narratives and is not as threatening or violent as in the movies.
It continues, however, to be a silent, stubborn idea that plagues the mind and the fact that people don’t see why this is a problem, is the problem.
Witchcraft is a lie that my community tells itself. It is an ungrounded idea that people use to move or close the narrative. It is a false validation for the actions and words that they cannot own.
Witchcraft is always a shared secret. It’s a relatable guilty pleasure around the islands. It’s a topic that you need to lower your voice on when talking about, one that always meant danger and magic. And like any idea of magic, it is exciting, alluring, and strangely charming.
This ilmuh still exists today, and although the group of people who inherited it do not practice outside their home island, the ancient knowledge is continuously passed down from one generation to the next.
It needs to be used, casted, and chanted once learned because when the practice stops, the rule says that it claims the lives of these families.
This ilmuh continues to build and break relationships, sink boats, and lately, brainwash people too. If you don’t want to be affected by it, the elders advised to wear your undergarments inside out.
