Cebuano Sorcery [Reprint 2020 ed.] 9780520324381

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Cebuano Sorcery Malign Magic in the Philippines

Cebuano Sorcery Malign Magic in the Philippines

Richard W. Lieban

UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESS Berkeley, Los Angeles,

London

University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, California University of California Press, Ltd. London, England Copyright © 1967, by The Regents of the University of California First Paperback Edition 1977 ISBN: 0-520-03420-1 Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 67-10461 Printed in the United States of America 1234567890

To my wife, Ruth

Acknowledgments

T

is based on two periods of field research in the Philippines. The first, in 1958-1959, took place in Sibulan, a rural municipality in Negros island, while I held a Fulbright grant. T h e second, in 1962-1963, in Cebu City, was made possible by a grant from the National Science Foundation. Assistance was also provided by the Woman's College Research Council, University of North Carolina. Grateful acknowledgement is made for support from these sources. Health and medicine in areas where I worked were central concerns in my research, and I am very grateful to the following physicians who helped me: Drs. Jose Agustines, Ramon Arcenas, Jose Bueno, Nestor Canoy, Rolando Cellona, Narciso Cinco, Jr., Hugo Cruel, Jose Enad, Cesar Estalilla, Macrina Leyson, Juan Maderazo, Ptlomeo Medalle, Venerando Pilapil, Jose San Jose, Manuel Segura, and Amanda Valenzuela. I am especially grateful to Dr. Richard Guinto for his help and friendship. HE FOLLOWING STUDY

While I conducted research in Sibulan, I was affiliated with Silliman University, and I am particularly indebted to two who were my colleagues there: Timoteo Oracion, who gave me important aid during the research; and Agaton Pal, who provided invaluable counsel and other assistance. vii

viii

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My sincere thanks go to the Rev. Rudolf Rahmann and Marcelino Maceda of the University of San Carlos for their assistance while I worked in Cebu City. I am very grateful to Hubert Blalock for advice on statistical questions and to John Wolff for aid with linguistic problems. Teodoro Florendo helped educate me with respect to legal aspects of land tenure in the Philippines, and Mercedes Concepcion kindly helped me with demographic materials. My sincere appreciation goes to Demetrio Mendoza of the National Museum, Philippines, for identifying plant specimens I collected. Assistance with the identification of plants in the Sibulan area was also provided by Alfredo Reyes, and Angel Alcala helped with the identification of animals, as did Clare Baltazar. Dedication of this book to my wife is a very inadequate expression of my thanks for all her help during research in the field and preparation of the study for publication. None of those who assisted me is responsible for any errors of fact or interpretation in this work.

Contents Acknowledgments, vii Introduction, 1 1. The Setting, 7 2. Sorcerers, 19 3. Methods of Sorcery, 48 4. Witches, 65 5. The Medical Background of Sorcery, 80 6. The Attribution of Illness to Sorcery, 1 0 3 7. Sorcery and Cebuano Society, 1 2 4 Appendix, 1 5 1 Index, 1 5 9

Introduction

I

N THE COURSE of m y research in Negros, o n e of the Bisayan islands of the Philippines, I collected data on sorcery. Later I compared notes I had taken on barang, t h e most notorious f o r m of sorcery in the area, w i t h a description of barang in a manuscript dated 1578 and attributed to D i e g o L o p e Povedano, an early Spanish e n c o m e n d e r o in Negros. T h e r e are close resemblances. T h e first passage below is f r o m m y notes recording a description of barang by a Negros i n f o r m a n t in 1958. T h e second is f r o m the P o v e d a n o manuscript dated alm o s t 400 years before.

T h e insect is called barang, and the man who can command the insect is called the mamalarang. These animals enter the body through any open places. This entry is invisible. T h e animals bite inside . . . T h e y may bite the liver, stomach, intestines, lungs . . . T h e barang is kept in a bamboo tube . . . (Before sending an insect to attack someone) the sorcerer ties a thread to one of its rear legs. Signs of barang are discharge of blood; also, the stomach may swell and be painful. A n d they have another way of killing their enemies who do them harm. In a bamboo tube they put some insects similar to small house flies which have hard skins. T h e y call this barang . . . A n d when they receive any serious insult from a person 1

2

CEBUANOSORCERY

whom they wanted to kill they get one of these insects from the bamboo tube and, tied with their own hair, it is sent to the victim. As soon as it reaches the person it makes its way into the body [of the intended victim] and is induced [by magic] into the entrails. The stomach of the victim swells immensely at high tide, and at low tide it becomes small.1 There is some doubt in Philippine historical circles about the origins of the Povedano manuscript of 1578 (for example, it may have been copied from another manuscript or compiled from various manuscript materials),2 although the validity of the data themselves is not necessarily questioned, and they may be quite old. In any event, other historical materials whose authenticity is established attest to the existence of beliefs in sorcery, including barang, in the Bisayan area early in the Spanish colonial period.3 Present beliefs in sorcery in the Philippines are an impressive example of cultural persistence in a context of social and cultural change. Since the days of early Spanish contact, the 1 Diego Lope Povedano, The Povedano Manuscript of 1 5 7 8 . The Ancient Legends and Stories of the Indios Jarayas, Jiguesinas, and Igneines Which Contain Their Beliefs and Diverse Superstitions. Translated and Annotated by Rebecca P. Ignacio, Philippine Studies Program, Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago ( 1 9 5 4 ) , pp. 1 3 - 1 4 . 2 Fred Eggan, personal communication. A discussion of the authenticity of various manuscripts attributed to Povedano is contained in Fred Eggan and E . D. Hester, " T h e Povedano Manuscript of 1 5 7 2 , " Philippine Studies, Vol. 8 ( i 9 6 0 ) , pp. 526-534. 3 For example, in a major early Spanish work Alcina speaks of two groups in the Bisayas who learned from their ancestors how to do evil with herbs and drugs. He said one of the groups was called Barang, meaning fatally bewitched and used exclusively for men; and the other was called Dalongdong, meaning the same and used for women. (Francisco Ignacio Alcina, Natural History of the Location, Fertility, and Character of the Islands and Indians of the Bisayas. Compiled by the Father Francisco Ignacio Alcina of the Society of Jesus After More Than Thirty-Three Years of Ministry In and Among Them. [Dated] 1668. Translated by Paul Lietz. M S . pp. 3 4 2 - 3 4 3 ) . De Loarca, describing the Bisayas toward the end of the sixteenth century, wrote, " I n this land there are sorcerers and witches—although there are also good physicians who cure diseases with medicinal herbs . . . " (Miguel de Loarca, "Relation of the Filipinas Islands," in Emma H. Blair and James A. Robertson, eds. The Philippine Islands, Vol. 5 [Cleveland: A. H. Clark, 1903], p. 1 6 3 . )

INTRODUCTION

3

Cebuano area of the Philippines, the setting for this study, has been subject to the colonial regimes and cultural influences of two Western nations, Spain and the United States, and today it is part of an independent nation undergoing economic development, with concomitant social changes. In the past four centuries, Cebuanos and other lowland Filipinos, once "tribal" peoples, have become peasants and town and city dwellers in a nation-state; their economy, principally based on agriculture, has become increasingly commercialized, with a small, but expanding industry; and, pagans at the start of the Spanish period, they subsequently became Christians. Whereas Cebuanos once were completely dependent on folk medicine for diagnosis and treatment of illnesses, including those attributed to sorcery, now increasingly they rely on modern medicine, which does not accept magical explanations of disease. Yet notions about sorcery that could be substantially the same after four centuries of basic changes in other aspects of Cebuano life are still a significant explanation of illness in Cebuano areas. T h e perseverance of beliefs in sorcery, as well as witchcraft, is by no means limited to the Philippines. It is a widespread phenomenon in the developing areas of the world. Such beliefs are not mere relics, insignificantly connected with behavior in the present. Others have observed that in societies where these beliefs are still prevalent they have an immediate and basic relevance to people's attitudes and behavior in a range of situations.4 Although I am interested in Cebuano sorcery beliefs as persisting elements of culture and will discuss the beliefs per se, this study is principally concerned with how these beliefs influence behavior and with factors that increase or diminish such influence. In keeping with this emphasis, I have relied heavily on case studies of behavior in situations where illness was attributed to sorcery. Whenever possible, information about these cases was secured from individuals who sus4 For example, see John Middleton and E . H. Winter, eds. Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa (New York: Praeger, 1 9 6 3 ) , p. 1.

4

CEBUANOSORCERY

pected that they had been victimized by the sorcery, or from persons who admitted they practiced or sponsored the sorcery. (Pseudonyms have been used for such individuals and all others involved in sorcery cases.) Data on sorcery were gathered as part of a broader study of social and cultural aspects of medicine in the Philippines. Field research was carried out in Sibulan, a rural municipality in Negros island, and in Cebu City. Much of the data on sorcery was collected while I was working with shamanistic folk healers, called mananambal. The majority of putative victims of sorcery were interviewed when they went to mananambal for treatment. In this manner I acquired most of the information recorded in 111 sorcery cases, often from informants who were strangers before I met them when they came to the mananambal. It would not have been possible to elicit sensitive data of this kind on such a scale outside the milieu of the mananambal. Ordinarily it was difficult in other settings to get information from individuals about their personal involvement in sorcery cases unless they knew me well, and under the circumstances any attempt to obtain reliable data on the incidence of sorcery by means of interviewing a random sample of the population was not feasible. Two characteristics of the situation in which the mananambal treated his patients facilitated my obtaining information from reputed victims of sorcery. First, the informants in question were already identified as sorcery victims in my presence. In other circumstances it would be easy enough for a reluctant informant simply not to tell me he suspected he had been sorcerized. But when he came to the mananambal for help, I was witness to the diagnosis. Second, once rapport was established with mananambal, they vouched for me when informants did not know me and urged them to cooperate in my study. This was very helpful when informants were initially reticent about their cases. There was another way in which contacts with mananambal contributed to research for this study. Since sorcery is a highly disapproved

INTRODUCTION

5

activity in the Philippines, and since those suspected of practicing it may even be physically attacked, the information about malign magic most difficult to obtain is that which reveals the informant as a sorcerer. Several of the 30 mananambal I knew practiced sorcery, however, and it was from them that data on sorcery from the perspective of the sorcerer were secured. T h e attribution of an illness to sorcery, whether by a sorcerer or his putative victim, is both a medical and a social interpretation of an event. T h e cause of the malady is believed to be a magical attack, and the magical attack is ascribed to social conflict. Therefore, the frequency with which Cebuanos perceive sorcery as the cause of illness or death is a function of their medical situation and the state of their social relationships. This study is addressed to both the medical and social aspects of sorcery. And since the Philippines is a developing society, the effects on sorcery of changes in medicine and social patterns are of major concern. Thus, the influence on Cebuano sorcery of the competition between modern medicine and folk medicine is examined in some depth, as is the problem of the comparative prevalence of sorcery in Cebu City and that in communities less affected by social change. Sorcery and witchcraft beliefs have been broadly represented in both Western and non-Western traditions. T h e fact that most people in industrial societies no longer hold these ideas indicates that a decline in their significance is a characteristic of modern development. But as yet we lack adequate knowledge of the roles, relative weight, and interplay of medical and social factors in producing this change. One indication of the complexity of the problem is provided by evidence that the change is by no means necessarily a simple, continuous progression that ensues once a society is exposed to modern knowledge and there are accelerated modifications of its traditional way of life. In fact, a number of observers have noted what may be an increase in the suspected

6

C E B UANO

SORCERY

incidence of sorcery and witchcraft in certain non-Western communities or societies as they have become more affected by modern trends. In attempting to understand better the basic relevance sorcery and witchcraft beliefs have had for human perception —as evidenced by their durability and wide distribution in diverse traditions—and the influence of modem changes on this relevance, researchers have the opportunity to study these beliefs and related behavior firsthand in developing societies where they are still prevalent. T h e study that follows is a description and analysis of sorcery in a single contemporary ethnolinguistic group, but the findings are germane to the broad cross-cultural problems outlined above. In this study of sorcery, I have necessarily concentrated on conflict in Philippine society and have not given—to borrow from the title of an article about another society 5 —the "amiable side" of Philippine society its due. Suspicion, hostility, and aggression are qualities found in all human societies. M y concern in this study is with the expression of these qualities in relation to sorcery. T h e fact that these qualities predominate so strongly in descriptions of behavior that follow is due to the nature of the subject matter, and not to the character of Philippine society, which has its full measure of affection and harmony. These comments about amiability in the Philippines are not dependent on what others have observed. T h e y derive from my own experience in a country whose people's kindness and friendship made this study possible, and made two years spent in the Philippines among the most pleasant in my life. 5 Helen Codere, "The Amiable Side of Kwakiutl Life: The Potlatch and the Play Potlatch," American Anthropologist, Vol. 58 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , P- 334-

1 The Setting

T

HE PHILIPPINES, like other nations of Southeast Asia, is a congeries of diverse ethnic groups and of communities that contrast sharply in economic and social development. T o take an extreme example, within a relatively short distance in western Luzon, one can go from an expensive Manila suburb, replete with a chic shopping center and other accouterments of contemporary cosmopolitan life, to nearby Zambales province where there are small bands of Negritos who only recently have undergone transition from a hunting and gathering economy to shifting cultivation and who still possess one of the simplest cultures in the world. Placing the cultural diversity of the Philippines in historical perspective, Kroeber wrote: ". . . the Philippines furnishes an unusual story to the student of the development of civilization. Layer after layer of culture is recognizable, giving a complete transition from the most primitive condition to full participation in Western civilization." 1 Distinctive ethnic groups in the Philippines include Muslim groups of the southern Philippines; the major pagan 1 A. L. Kroeber, Peoples of the Philippines, 2nd and rev. ed., American Museum of Natural History, Handbook Series No. 8 (New York, 1 9 4 3 ) , p. 1 1 .

7

8

CEBUANOSORCERY

groups, generally found in more inaccessible upland areas; and scattered pockets of Negritos. Taken together, these groups, along with 12 minor Christian groups and overseas Chinese living in the Philippines, constitute a small part of the Philippine population. More than 85 percent of the population is composed of eight major Christian groups which, although there are linguistic and cultural differences between them, on the whole resemble one another closely. These groups, located in lowland areas, are the Tagalog, Cebuano, Ilokano, Hiligaynon, Samar-Leyte, Bikol, Pampangan, and Pangasinan. Their populations, as well as the combined population of all other peoples in the Philippines, are shown in Table 1. TABLE L I N G U I S T I C AND E T H N I C

GROUPS

1 OF T H E P H I L I P P I N E S :

Group

Population

Cebuano Tagalog Ilokano Hiligaynon Bikol Samar-Leyte Pampangan Pangasinan Others Total

6,529,882 5,694,072 3,158,560 2,817,314 2,108,837 1,488,668 875.53! 666,003 3,748,818 27,087,685

1960

S O U R C E : Based on Census of the Philippines: i960 Population and Housing, Vol. 2 (Republic of the Philippines, Department of Commerce and Industry, Bureau of the Census, Manila, 1963), p. 15.

The Cebuanos, the largest of these groups, are the subject of this study. They are concentrated in the Bisayan islands of the central Philippines—principally Cebu, Bohol, western Leyte, and eastern Negros—and in northern Mindanao. T h e great majority of Cebuanos are peasants, but a number of them live in towns and cities and follow urban occupations. This range of social diversity is exemplified in the

THE

SETTING

9

two Cebuano communities where research for this study was conducted. One of these communities, Sibulan, is a rural municipality whose population consists for the most part of farming households. T h e other, Cebu City, is the second largest city of the Philippines. SIBULAN

Sibulan, population 12,000, is located in the southeastern corner of Negros island, just across a strait from the southern tip of Cebu island, which is plainly visible from Sibulan. The population of the municipality is concentrated in a narrow plain between the sea and mountains. These mountains, situated between the main areas of settlement in the eastern and western parts of the island, extend over much of Negros. Only 10 degrees north of the equator, Sibulan has a perennially warm climate. This part of Negros, unlike many other areas of the Philippines, does not have a sharply defined rainy season. March and April are the driest months, but a moderate amount of rain falls throughout the rest of the year. Dumaguete City, adjacent to Sibulan, has an average annual precipitation of 55 inches, which makes it one of the drier weather stations in the Philippines. 2 Administratively, Sibulan, a municipality of Negros Oriental province, is divided into a poblacion and nine barrios. Officially, a poblacion is defined as urban and a barrio as rural, but this is an unrealistic distinction in Sibulan. T h e poblacion is the seat of municipality administration, and the mayor and other officials of Sibulan conduct the affairs of government there. In addition, the poblacion is the site of the Sibulan church; a school where pupils may go beyond the fourth grade (the limit in barrio schools); and a small health clinic. But considering the fact that it is not a commercial center and that its population (under 1,800) is less than that 2 Alden Cutshall, "Dumaguete: An Urban Study of a Philippine Community," Philippine Geographical Journal, Vol. 5 ( 1 9 5 7 ) , p. 8.

CEBUANOSORCERY

of two of the barrios in the municipality, the Sibulan población is essentially a rural barrio with a few institutional manifestations of a town. Magatas is one of the barrios of Sibulan and may serve as a focus for discussion. The barrio is entered from the north by a narrow road lined with tall coconut palms. A few houses can be seen through the trees close to the outskirts of the barrio, but most of them are clustered near the center of the community, where there is an elementary school and a community well. Houses are adapted both to the tropical climate and to the limited economic resources of the people. Bamboo is cheap, and it can be used for beams, posts, rafters, walls, and flooring. Roofs are thatched with nipa (Nypa fruticans), a palm that grows in swamps. Rooms of the house are raised from the ground on posts, as much as four feet or more, so circulating air may completely envelop the house, including its bottom surface. Cracks between bamboo slats of the floor permit some ventilation from below. The space under the house may be used for storage and as a shelter for animals belonging to the household. Houses in the barrio differ in size, and some are made of more substantial materials than others, but on the whole variations in houses are not striking. This is a reflection of the fact that although there are economic and status differences between barrio households, the standard of living is generally frugal, and substantial social class distinctions, comparable to those found in towns and cities, are not characteristic of barrios such as Magatas. An observation of Pal's concerning the Philippine countryside is pertinent here: ". . . social class in the rural areas is not distinguished by house style, the manner of dressing or manner of spending money. People do not speak of rich or poor; they classify their neighbors as 'somewhat more' and 'somewhat less.' All families in a neighborhood perform practically the same type of economic activities, and they work together in exchanging labor and in community projects. T h e desire to make con-

THE

SETTING

tacts pleasant in these face-to-face contacts has encouraged them to minimize the differences in material possessions." 3 Cultivated fields are dispersed through much of Magatas. Plots are generally small, and those owned or rented by the same household are often scattered in different parts of the barrio. Farming methods are simple; hand tools are used, as is the plow, which is pulled by the carabao, the essential work animal of Philippine agriculture. Magical practices, employed at the start of undertakings and called lihi, are an integral part of the agricultural cycle in Magatas, and farmers depend on such procedures to help secure good harvests. T o give just one example, crops are planted at low tide, in the hope that as low tide is followed by high, so will the planting be followed by an abundant harvest. Some rice is cultivated in Sibulan, but the major crops are corn for subsistence and coconuts, which are sold in the copra trade, for cash. Bananas are an important food, and houses have banana plants in their yards. Other crops include: sweet potatoes, tomatoes, beans, cassava, tropical fruit trees, and kalamongay

(Moringa

oleifera),

a tree which

yields small edible leaves that are used as a vegetable. Most households raise chickens and pigs, mainly for their own consumption. One of the qualities that stands out in a barrio such as Magatas is the extent to which the small community is the " Agaton P. Pal, "The Philippines," in The Role of Savings and Wealth in Southern Asia and the West, eds. Richard D. Lambert and Bert F. Hoselitz (Paris: UNESCO, 1963), p. 342. In a similar vein, Fox comments: "Viewed internally, the typical barrio has no formal class structure, for there is little economic and social differentiation. There are, of course, status distinctions, but these are based upon the local prestige of one's family and 'individual' achievement in terms of the values of the local community, rather than upon identification with a social class." (Robert B. Fox, "Social Organization," Area Handbook on the Philippines, University of Chicago for the Human Relations Area Files, Vol. 1 [1956], p. 443.) In contrast, Nurge, on the basis of differences in occupation, income, and land ownership, distinguished three social classes in a Leyte agricultural-fishing barrio which she studied. (Ethel Nurge, Life in a Leyte Village [Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1965], pp. 40-44.)

CEBUANO

SORCERY

locus of significant social relations for its members. Numerous households in the barrio are related to one another through ramifying bilateral kinship ties, and even nonkinsmen cannot be complete strangers when they live in such a small settlement. Furthermore, the social effects of propinquity are heightened because so many households have maintained continuity in the barrio, and their members have known one another for two or more generations.4 T h e barrio is a political as well as a social unit. It is an administrative division within the municipality, with a barrio lieutenant and barrio councilors. None of these positions is salaried, and since the barrio lieutenant is expected to provide food and lodging for officials who visit the barrio, the job is sometimes looked upon as more of a burden than a prize. The barrio lieutenant serves as an official communication link between the barrio and the municipal government. He and the barrio councilors are responsible for organizing barrio self-improvement projects, such as constructing a building in Magatas that is now used as a part-time rural health clinic by public health personnel. T h e barrio lieutenant also may try to mediate disputes that occur in the community. In general, the people of Magatas and other Sibulan barrios adhere to the slow tempo and entrenched habits of a small, conservative peasant community in which economic productivity is low and social relations are strongly dominated by kinship. However, these barrios are neither unaware of, nor unaffected by, the main trends of culture change in the Philippines. Some new agricultural and health practices have been introduced into the barrios through government and private 4

In a sample of 481 respondents to a social survey in the Dumaguete City trade area, including Sibulan, it was found that 59 percent of husbands and wives had been born in the barrio where they resided and 22 percent in another barrio of the same municipality. See Robert A. Poison and Agaton P. Pal, The Status of Rural Life in the Dumaguete City Trade Area, Philippines 1952, Data Paper No. 21, Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University (1956), p. 14.

THE

SETTING

aid programs. In addition, because of Sibulan's proximity to Dumaguete City, which can be reached by ramshackle buses and carabao-drawn carts on the provincial highway, the people of this rural municipality have more contact with a center for dissemination of modern influences than do those who live in more remote rural areas. Dumaguete City, population 35,000, is the provincial capital of Negros Oriental and is a port and a trade center. A variety of manufactured goods can be bought in its stores, and its motion picture theaters offer views of life never seen in the barrios. T h e city is the site of two hospitals, 5 three high schools, an arts and trade school, two colleges, and one of the major universities in the Philippines. Most of these facilities have little tangible effect on life in the barrios. For example, not many in the barrios have been to high school and fewer still to college. Occasionally someone may buy a cheap watch, transistor radio, 6 or bicycle, but modern durable manufactured goods sold in city stores are beyond the economic reach of most barrio households. However, if these sources and products of change have little effect on the way people live in the barrios, they have considerable psychological impact on some individuals in these communities who aspire to a higher, more sophisticated standard of living than it is possible to attain in the barrio. A number of young men and women from Sibulan migrate to Manila, Cebu, and other cities to find work. Those who eventually return do so mainly because of economic difficulties they have encountered in the cities and the greater security afforded them by their home communities. Most such individuals I talked to said they had been attracted to the cities by the opportunity to earn money and buy clothes and other goods they desired. Some who leave do not return, and quite a few households in Sibulan have relatives who were born in 6 1 understand that a third hospital has been established in Dumaguete City since I worked in the area. ' Recently the number of transistor radios in barrios has been increasing.

CEBUANO

SORCERY

the municipality b u t are now living elsewhere in the Philippines, a number of them in towns and cities . W i t h this in mind, the stability of population in Sibulan referred to earlier can be misleading if it implies a more or less uniform acceptance of life in the barrio by those born and reared there. Some are restive and leave, and those w h o comprise the present population include individuals w h o l e f t and returned and who, at least at some point in their lives, were unreconciled to their situations in the barrios. CEBU

CITY

A young man in Magatas once described the barrio as " a lonely place," and h e went on to say, "Sometimes you can hear only the sound of the birds." It is true that, although Magatas is a relatively short distance from the provincial highway, at times the quiet barrio seems almost cut off from the rest of the world. In contrast, the most significant characteristic of C e b u C i t y is the extent of its direct involvement, as a trade and transportation hub, in activities that reach out to the rest of the Philippines, and other parts of the world as well. Situated on the east coast of the island of C e b u , in t h e center of the Philippine archipelago, and with an excellent harbor, C e b u C i t y has been an important port from the beginning of the Spanish regime in the Philippines. Magellan, leading the first Spanish expedition to reach the Philippines, landed at C e b u and was killed on M a c t a n island, just across a narrow strait from the city. A f t e r several other expeditions to the Philippines, the Spanish established C e b u as their first settlement in 1565, and the city is the oldest in the Philippines. Spanish colonial administration was soon shifted to Manila, b u t C e b u remained a center of Spain's economic interests in the Philippines, and its economic importance increased substantially in the nineteenth century w h e n Spain opened the Philippines to world trade. T h e rural population

THE

SETTING

15

on Cebu and nearby islands began producing cash crops—at first sugar and abaca, and later, during the American period, copra—for export in the world market. 7 Today Manila is the main international port in the Philippines, but Cebu City is the leading domestic port of the islands, surpassing all others in total number and tonnage of vessels entering, amounts of copra and corn landed, and passenger traffic. 8 And Cebu's prominence as a seaport is matched by its importance as an airport whose terminal serves more domestic passengers than any other in the Philippines. Cebu is the second city of the Philippines, but there is a considerable gap between it and the first, Manila. This is indicated by population figures, as well as by other indexes of urban development. In i960, the population of Cebu City was 251,146; that of Manila proper, 1 , 1 3 8 , 6 1 1 ; if other adjacent communities composing the Greater Manila Area were included, this latter figure would be considerably higher. 9 Manila, in its size and in its economic, political, and cultural preeminence, is the Philippine version of what Ginsburg has called "primate cities" of Southeast Asia, metropolises which far outdistance all other communities in urban development in their respective countries. 10 Actually, most chartered cities of the Philippines outside Manila are "fractional cities," containing large amounts of farmland, sometimes forests, within their boundaries, and urbanized to a very limited extent in terms of their total area. Cebu is an exception. T h e city extends out to include farming areas, but it is a real city; for example, in 1948, census data show that 83 percent of its 'Frederick L. Weinstedt, The Role and Importance of Philippine Interisland Shipping and Trade, Data Paper No. 26, Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University ( 1 9 5 7 ) , p. 38. 8 Ibid., p. 39. 9 Census of the Philippines: 1960 Population and Housing, Vol. 2 (Republic of the Philippines, Department of Commerce and Industry, Bureau of the Census, Manila, 1 9 6 3 ) , p. 3. 10 Norton S. Ginsburg, "The Great City in Southeast Asia," American Journal of Sociology, Vol. 60 ( 1 9 5 5 ) , pp. 4 5 5 - 4 6 2 .

CEBUANO

SORCERY

population was urban, as contrasted with 42 percent for the cities of Davao and Zamboanga. 1 1 Although the pace of Cebu is far from frenetic, the activity of the downtown area is a far cry from the languor of rural Sibulan barrios. On Cebu wharves stevedores load and unload ships, and arriving and departing interisland vessels are crowded with passengers. Nearby, in an open market area, buses bring people from other parts of the island of Cebu, and the market is crowded with customers purchasing food and miscellaneous cheap consumer goods. T h e main business district is dominated by several office buildings and a new department store with a roof-garden restaurant. In this area of the city there is a full range of urban commerce, including: other department stores, banks, insurance offices, automobile dealers, tailors, beauty parlors, barber shops, pharmacies, repair shops, motion picture theaters, restaurants, bakeries, newspaper and magazine stands, and stores specializing in fabrics, shoes, furniture, jewelry, stationery, photographic supplies, and hardware. Some measure of the importance of commerce in Cebu can be seen from the fact that in 1959-1960 there were 193 department and variety stores in the city which employed five or more persons. 12 In the same period, there were altogether more than 1,400 Cebu City nonagricultural enterprises with five or more employees, 13 compared to one in Sibulan, a pottery with fewer than 10 employees. 14 Most of these Cebu City enterprises were small, with five to nine employees, but 267 of them had from 11 Paul F. Cressey, "The Development of Philippine Cities," Silliman Journal, Vol. 5 (1952), p. 355. It is estimated that only one-sixth of Dumaguete City can be classified as urban, while the remainder is rural (Agaton P. Pal, "Dumaguete City, Central Philippines," in Pacific Port Towns and Cities, edited by Alexander Spoehr [Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1963], p. 1 4 ) . u Directory of Key Establishments in the Philippines in Selected Non-Agricultural Industries Employing Five or More Workers, 19591960, Republic of the Philippines, Department of Labor (Manila), pp. 387-391. 13 Ibid., pp. 357-400. "Ibid., p. 569.

THE

SETTING

10 to 19 employees; 128, 20 to 49 employees; 30, 50 to 99 employees; 12, 100 to 249 employees; eight, 250-499 employees; and three had 500 or more employees. 15 Many of these enterprises are owned by Chinese, and a few by American or European interests, but the great majority of employees are Filipinos, and Filipinos have become increasingly important as entrepreneurs and managers. From downtown, streets branch out north, south, and west to the main residential sections of the city. Transportation is by tartanillas, small horsedrawn carriages, in which two to four people may ride; jeepneys, colorfully decorated adaptations of jeeps, which have been enlarged to accommodate as many as 10 passengers, eight squeezed together on seats in the back, and two up front with the driver; taxis and private automobiles. There are only a small number of automobiles as compared with the traffic in a Western city of comparable size, since few people in Cebu can afford cars. Houses in the poorer residential areas of the city, where most of the population lives, are not too different from those in rural barrios, except that they are usually more closely crowded together. There are, however, some larger, but still not elaborate, dwellings, made of more expensive wooden materials. Overshadowing these are the imposing houses of the Filipino, Chinese, and Euro-American elite. The variation in housing reflects social class differences in the city. Broadly speaking, three classes seem distinguishable: a large lower class, including the unemployed, parttime and full-time wage laborers, drivers, domestics, peddlers, petty traders, certain craftsmen (such as carpenters), and those who farm near the outskirts of the city; a middle class, including small businessmen, salesmen, clerical and supervisory employees, civil servants, and teachers and other professionals whose earnings do not put them in higher-income brackets; and an upper class composed of the political, business, and professional leaders of the city. Aside from its importance in trade, transportation, and "Ibid., pp. 357-400.

C E BUANO

SORCERY

commerce, Cebu is a political and educational center as well. In addition to its own city administration, headed by the mayor, Cebu City is the capital of the province of Cebu, and the provincial administration, with the governor as chief executive, is situated there. Furthermore, the community is heavily involved in national politics, and two of the most prominent political families in the Philippines, the Osmenas and Cuencos, are based in Cebu City. Sergio Osmena was the second president of the Philippine Commonwealth. Next to Manila, Cebu City has the most highly developed educational system of any community in the Philippines, and there are 1 0 colleges and universities in the city. In many respects, differences between Cebu City and Sibulan are great, but both are Cebuano communities within the same nation-state, subject to the same laws, and wooed and governed by the same political parties. Allowing for regional, urban-rural, and social class subcultural variations, people in both communities speak the same language, follow the same religion (more than 95 percent of the population is Catholic in both communities), and have the same marriage and kinship systems. There are numerous other common denominators, and one of them, sorcery, is older in this area than both communities, persists in both, and manifests itself through all phases of Cebuano society from the simplest barrio to the most complex Cebuano community, Cebu City.

2

Sorcerers ERER

was speaking of a friend who was also a sor-

"This man/' he said, "has other means of livelihood. He does not depend on this for a living." "Then why does he do it?" I asked. "Just to help those who need help." This portrait of the sorcerer as a benefactor of man is consistent with certain facets of the sorcerer's role, as defined by the sorcerer. It is not congruous with the views of sorcerers held by others: that of a woman who accepted advice to be especially careful when drinking and eating in two districts of a community reknown for sorcerers; that of people with illnesses who blame their suffering on the work of sorcerers; or that of a sorcerer's son who expressed the hope that his father would "lose his evil power and his insects and animals and return to the ways of God." These illustrations introduce a fact that will become increasingly apparent in the pages to follow. Cebuano culture accommodates diverse, often conflicting, reactions to sorcery. T h e opinions of the sorcerer about sorcery are not those of the man who has heard about sorcery but does not practice it; the attitudes of the sorcerer's client about an act of sorcery

CEBUANOSORCERY are not those of the sorcerer's victim. And each, according to his interests, finds appropriate conventional beliefs about sorcery to explain or sanction his position. Therefore, a rounded understanding of sorcery in Cebuano society is not possible without exploring various vantage points from which sorcery is viewed. This chapter is mainly concerned with sorcery from the perspective of the sorcerer. Dominating the sorcerer's view is power—the ability to impose his will on the course of events. BECOMING

A

SORCERER

According to most sorcery lore, one becomes a sorcerer by learning methods of malign magic and establishing a relationship with a spirit who supports this magic. An aspiring sorcerer can gain some knowledge of sorcery methods from information which is generally transmitted to those reared in the culture. This is particularly true of a few forms of sorcery that are well known, such as barang. However, this information that is openly available to those in the society tends to be sparing in detail, only outlining certain features which are the cachet of the method as the public sees it. Such general knowledge is considered inadequate for the practice of sorcery, which cannot be effective if even the smallest detail in the procedure is left out or mishandled. Consequently, those who provided me with the most comprehensive and specific descriptions of sorcery rituals—ingredients, methods of their utilization, and imprecations— were also those who, to my knowledge, actively practiced sorcery. Such esoteric information ordinarily passes from teacher to pupil through private and covert, rather than public, channels. T h e one exception I heard of was discussed by a woman who described a visit to her village years before by a man who went from house to house offering to sell roots used in a certain kind of sorcery as well as instructions about how to employ them. T h e woman said this man was considered in-

SORCERERS

sane by people of the village, who had never heard of anyone publicly vending such items and information. Sorcerers vary in the extent to which they command knowledge of malign magic. I was told of one man who originally purchased a mixture of ingredients for sorcery. He practiced sorcery for years, but he always had to replenish this mixture by purchase because he was not sufficiently knowledgeable to make it himself. On the other hand, the education of my informant who knew most about sorcery methods apparently was a comprehensive and continuing process. He said of some sorcerers, "They are always trying new ideas." While the sorcerer must have knowledge of ritual and the will to use it, engagement of another, more powerful will, that of a spirit, is also required for most sorcery procedures described to me. 1 These spirits are frequently conceived of by Cebuanos as followers of Satan, and sorcery is often referred to as "the work of the devil." A variety of such spirits can cause illness and death on their own, as well as through their alliances with sorcerers. A man said that he had seen such a spirit—"tall and fair, with no knee joints"—accompanying a woman whom he knew to be a sorcerer. The most specific description of how those who want to practice sorcery establish and maintain relationships with spirits was provided me by a sorcerer who said that a man who becomes a sorcerer must secure an ingkanto as a sponsor. Ingkanto are spirits which are dangerous and often seen by human beings as handsome men or beautiful women.2 To enlist the aid of an ingkanto for the plans he has in mind, my 1 There are indications of a similar belief in the Leyte-Samar areas of the Bisayas, where it is said that the power of the sorcerer "was originally transmitted by cave or mountain spirits and fairies," although this is no longer so. See Richard Arens, "Witches and Witchcraft in Leyte and Samar Islands, Philippines," Philippine Journal of Science, Vol. 85 (1956), p. 458. 3 For a discussion of ingkanto, see Richard W . Lieban, "The Dangerous Ingkantos: Illness and Social Control in a Philippine Community," American Anthropologist, Vol. 64 (1962), pp. 306-312.

C E BUANO

SORCERY

informant said that the aspiring sorcerer goes to an "enchanted place" where ingkanto dwell, and there he presents a dulot (offering), consisting of the following: a cooked pig, seven chickens, 49 eggs, 49 cigars, 49 cigarettes, seven cups of tuba (fermented juice from the flower of the coconut tree), seven puso (rice wrapped in woven coconut leaves and cooked), seven glasses of water, seven tilad (a combination of items used in betel chewing), seven cups of chocolate, and seven slices of bread.3 The aspiring sorcerer has assistance in carrying all this to the place of sacrifice, but his helper leaves before the ritual of sacrifice begins. This ritual is performed by the aspiring sorcerer alone, and if the ingkanto accepts the offerings, from then on he is "the best friend" of the man who made the sacrifice. After this, the sorcerer has an obligation to provide a comparable offering each year to his ingkanto. Such offerings are not the only debt the sorcerer owes the source of his power. He also has the obligation to kill at least once during each year. Some informants said this was so regardless of the sorcery method used; others said this obligation only went with some types of sorcery, such as hilo, a term referring to certain methods of magical poisoning. To become one who can practice hilo, it is said that a man must first kill a member of his own family, and from then on one or more victims each year. One sorcerer said that the sorcerer's obligation to kill grows with time; the longer the sorcerer practices, the more frequently he has to kill. All informants agreed that once a sorcerer assumes such obligations, if he does not victimize others according to schedule, he himself will become a victim, struck down by his own instru3

The magical importance of the number seven, or multiples of seven, among peoples of Negros island is noted by Donn V . Hart, "Barrio Caticugan: A Bisayan Filipino Community" (Ph.D. dissertation on file at Syracuse University) (1954), p. 346. The special magical significance of seven is found in other Malaysian ethnic areas outside the Philippines. For example in his Malay Magic (London: Macmillan, 1900), Walter W . Skeat notes the "remarkable importance and persistency of the number seven in Malay magic . . ." (p. 50).

SORCERERS

23

ments of sorcery that turn against him. As one sorcerer expressed it, "If he does not kill, he gets seriously ill, and he only gets well when h e kills. If h e does not kill, h e will die." Information gathered from normative accounts of sorcery as well as from informants' specific descriptions of sorcery activity, their own or others, was generally consistent in having spiritual adherents of Satan abet the sorcerer, b u t there was an exception. O n e sorcerer was aided by a spirit who was not thought to be among the damned. H e was described as a devout man while alive, and h e had been buried a Christian. H e had taught his protégée how to heal as well as how to destroy, and his spirit aided her in her role of ministering to the sick, as well as in her role as a sorcerer, a seeming paradox of identities that will be discussed shortly. If this spirit was considered damned, there was no indication of this on the part of his protégée or her clients, who generally regarded the spirit as benevolent if they came to his protégée for treatm e n t of illness, or as severely just if they came to hire his protégée to sorcerize their antagonists. SORCERERS AND

CLIENTS

At times, one may practice sorcery on behalf of his own rather than a client's grievance, b u t essentially the sorcerer is a man or woman for hire, a specialist who trades in affliction and death. It is said that if a man wants to hire the services of a sorcerer, he should handle the matter with some finesse, first trying to find out who is a sorcerer and then contacting the sorcerer through an intermediary whom the sorcerer knows. Supposedly if a stranger on his own approaches a sorcerer directly, the sorcerer will deny his special abilities. Actually, from my observations, the security arrangements of sorcerers are not as careful as these statements would lead one to believe, and, in the case of one sorcerer, they were at times extremely lax. Nor is it always the client who seeks the sorcerer; the reverse also occurs. T h e following two examples show

CEBUANOSORCERY how a sorcerer may take the lead in revealing himself to a prospective client. Yesterday two sisters went for the first time to a folk healer about the illness of their father, who was hospitalized with what had been diagnosed as cancer. However, according to the healer, the illness was caused by sorcery. Last night their father died, and today the sisters returned to the healer to find out who had instigated the sorcery attack against their father. In my presence, the healer told them that a former tenant of their father's had hired a sorcerer in a nearby community to do this. T h e healer, who also practices sorcery, said, " I f you want to do something about this, you can." T h e two women said they would think it over after the burial of their father. After promising to do so for several weeks, this same sorcerer showed me a skull that is used to sorcerize. I had expected to be shown the skull only as an example of equipment used in sorcery, but actually the skull was "in action," its apertures stuffed with packets consisting of pictures and/or pieces of paper with the names of intended victims. After the skull had been put away in a back room, a man arrived to consult the sorcerer about who was stealing clothes from the man. He suspected a houseboy who worked in the boarding house where he lived. T h e sorcerer confirmed that this was the case. T h e man said the houseboy was "pestering" him, and that while there were other boarders in the house, he was the only one who was missing things. At this point, the sorcerer whispered something to him and led him to the back room where the skull was. They emerged several minutes later, and the man heatedly said, " I will pay whatever I have to punish this boy. I don't care whether he returns my things or not, as long as you punish him. And punish him any way you want. I will come back tomorrow." Sorcerers must identify themselves to others in order to acquire clients, and, on occasion, such revelations are surprisingly unrestrained. Sorcery, however, is essentially a covert activity, and sorcerers are usually guarded and secretive about this aspect of their lives. T h i s prudence is not surprising considering that a sorcery suspect is at some risk and occasionally may b e subject to violent attack. During my research in Negros, a man was placed in the provincial jail for assault with a t t e m p t to kill a neighbor, who, the jailed man said, had

SORCERERS

threatened to sorcerize him and was known to possess an evil spirit and the ability to harm his enemies at will. From time to time stories appear in the Philippine press about the slaying of individuals suspected of sorcery or witchcraft. 4 Fees for sorcery quoted by sorcerers and clients ranged from 12 pesos to 4,000 pesos. (The exchange rate was between 3.85 and 3.90 pesos for U.S. $1.00 in 1963.) A sorcerer said that some sorcerers demand money from clients in advance; others only after the mission is finished. He said that the former tell their clients, " W h e n you go to the hospital, you pay whether you are cured or not." Clients who discussed fees stated that they had paid in advance. One man said that on his first visit to the sorcerer, the sorcerer questioned him about the person he wanted sorcerized and the background of the case. When he visited the sorcerer the second time, the fee was set at 40 pesos, and during the third visit he paid the money, which the sorcerer promised to return if the sorcery were not successful against the intended victim. T h e informant said the sorcerer was a friend and would have lived up to the agreement if he had not accomplished what he was paid to do. According to one informant who I suspected had practiced sorcery at least on occasion, the sorcerer asks the client which one of them will take responsibility for the soul of the victim. If the client assumes the responsibility, the fee is less, and the client must sponsor a Mass for the soul of the victim after his death; if the sorcerer takes the responsibility for the victim's soul, this is his obligation. This informant said that if the client assumes the responsibility, the sorcerer, in his imprecations during the sorcery ritual will say, " N o w I will punish you for what you have done to (name of client)." On the other hand, if the sorcerer assumes the responsibility, he actually makes the client's case his own, and 'Manild Bulletin, December 10, 1958, p. 1; Philippine Free Press, July 7, 1962, p. 61; Manila Bulletin, July 2 1 , 1962, p. 1 1 . Information about the murder on October 19, 1963, of a woman suspected of witchcraft in a barrio of Ilocos Norte was sent me by Daniel J. Scheans in a personal communication.

26

CEBUANOSORCERY

in the imprecations he says, "Now I will punish you for what you have done to me." Two other informants whom I knew to be sorcerers did not indicate that responsibility for the victim's soul was something for hire. One said it was shared by the sorcerer and his client; the other said it was the client's exclusively. All three informants agreed, however, that the responsibility is discharged completely by sponsoring a Mass and saying prayers for the soul of the victim. As sorcerers define the situation, money is not enough to secure their services; the client must also have a righteous cause. This prerequisite for the acceptance of a case is linked to considerations of efficiency and safety, as well as morality. Presumably, sorcery will only work against a "guilty" man. Furthermore, if it is employed against an innocent party, it may boomerang and work against the client and the sorcerer. Sorcerers claim that they carefully investigate the grievances of those who seek to hire them, and that they will not accept a case if the fault lies with a potential client rather than the intended victim. Citing a hypothetical example, a sorcerer said that if a wife committed adultery, a husband could secure someone to sorcerize his wife and her lover, but the lover could not get a sorcerer to employ his magic against the husband, "because the husband has the right to the wife." In examples discussed later it will be seen that neither sorcerers nor the punitive effects of the instruments of their magic are necessarily bound by moral restraints. However, the principle that sorcery will only victimize a guilty man, an important tenet of the ideology of sorcery and one which is widely held—not only by sorcerers and clients who have a stake in this belief, but also by others, so long as they are not victims of sorcery or do not identify themselves closely with victims —is highly adaptive for the sorcerer, available to vindicate the consequences of his sorcery, whether it succeeds, due to moral considerations, or fails, also due to moral considerations. But it should be pointed out that whereas such an explanation of failure is suitable for the sorcerer, it is not appropriate for the client, for, if he accepted this explanation,

SORCERERS

2

7

his version of the culpability of his enemy would be ironically discredited by the continued well-being of his enemy. T h e client does have recourse to other interpretations of the sorcerer's failure which are not damaging to the client. He may attribute it to his enemy's possessing a powerful amulet, since conventionally it is believed that such protection can make a man impregnable to sorcery, regardless of his guilt. Or he may simply believe that he hired an incompetent sorcerer, an interpretation which will be exemplified later in another context. SORCERERS

AS

HEALERS

Most of the mananambal (shamanistic folk healers) I knew apparently were not sorcerers. At least there was nothing I was able to observe in their behavior with me or others which would indicate that they practiced sorcery. On the other hand, persons whom I knew or strongly suspected to be sorcerers were also mananambal, and some of them apparently devoted more time to healing than to sorcery. Although the individual who is both sorcerer and healer may seem to be devoting himself to contradictory ends, neither he nor his client necessarily sees his behavior in these terms. T h e same man may be a healer to some who come to him as patients, a sorcerer to others who hire him for that role, or healer and sorcerer in turn to the same individual who comes to him as a patient on one occasion and a client for sorcery on another. In each situation the role of the sorcerer, or healer, is presented according to the need of the client, whether that be for health or "justice." When a man is both a sorcerer and a healer, his shifts from one role to the other may be mechanical and expedient, but he can explain these changes to himself, or others, as moral obligations. This is illustrated in the situation described below, in which a man as a healer treated a patient with an illness for which the same man as a sorcerer was partially responsible. A man may serve two clients, one as sor-

CEBUANOSORCERY cerer, the other as healer, without any "conflict of interests" when the cases of the two clients are mutually exclusive. In the following circumstances, however, there is a conflict of interests, and serving one client disserves the other. In this case, each step in the sequence of roles played, as well as the resolution of conflicting obligations to clients, is defended by invoicing appropriate role values at appropriate times. Danilo was treating a woman with a swollen and painful abdomen who first had been to a physician, but who had now decided to seek the aid of a mananambal. Danilo said this woman was known as a troublemaker in her community and had serious disputes there. Danilo said that someone had come to him and asked him to make the woman sick. He said that he had not taken the case himself, but had turned it over to a close friend and protégé of his. Now the victim had come to Danilo and he was doing his best to cure her. In filling in this background, Danilo made it clear that he felt the woman had been guilty of transgressions against her neighbors, and hence his cooperation in the sorcery against her. When he was asked why he subsequently treated her, he replied, "Life is very precious. That is always God's command." He said that if a victim of his own practices came to him for treatment, he would accept the case. A friend of his who was also present then asked Danilo about his obligation to the client who had hired him to sorcerize the victim in the first place. Danilo replied that he would feel he met his obligation if the sorcery worked, and if the client came to him and complained when he treated the victim, Danilo would appeal to the client's sympathy and ask him to remember how bad he (the client) felt when he was sick. Such an argument, whether cynical or not in this case, demonstrates that alternations between the roles of sorcerer and healer involve more than merely shifting between the objectives of affliction and curing and then employing one's technical competences accordingly. T h e shifting has its ideological dimensions as well. In addition, there may be changes in the emotional quality of behavior as an individual turns from one role to the other. This is not to say that there is a sharp dividing line between

SORCERERS

29

the two roles with respect to expressive behavior. Sorcerers do not necessarily "act" menacingly, nor are healers necessarily merciful or sympathetic in their relations with their patients. Still compassion is more consonant with healing than with sorcery; the opposite is true of malevolence, and this can manifest itself in behavior. To illustrate, as part of one method of sorcery, the stinger of a ray is used to pierce a representation of the intended victim, such as a photograph. The stinger and the photograph are then burned, and if the effort is successful, the victim will develop a severe, burning fever. One day while at the house of a sorcerer who was also a mananambal, I noticed a charred stinger on a nearby shelf. The sorcerer said that it had been "used." Someone else asked if the victim had made amends. (This is a way to get a sorcerer to remove the spell.) The sorcerer replied, "No, the victim is now dead." The statement was flat and merciless. Some days later I saw the same man in completely different circumstances, as a mananambal. He had spent hours the night before treating a woman who had apparently undergone a severe medical crisis. The patient's husband said that he had cried during the night because he did not believe his wife would live through the night. When I saw the mananambal with this patient the following day, she was weak, but conscious and able to talk to others in the room. The mananambal treated her and then sat beside her on the bed. During most of the time we were there, her hand clung to his arm in a gesture of gratitude and trust. She seemed to be strongly impressed with his concern and quietly reassuring manner, and so was I. To this point, the roles of sorcerer and healer have been discussed as segregated realms of behavior. Attention has been directed toward what divides these roles; now it is time to consider what they have in common. Sorcerers are supposed to be able to cure illnesses which they inflict, and this is not surprising considering the deadly nature of the forces with which the sorcerer deals and that he is subject to attack or counterattack by other sorcerers.

3

o

CEBUANO

SORCERY

But the full-fledged healer in Cebuano society treats a broad range of illnesses, with a variety of etiologies, not only those which emanate from sorcery, and this was true of all healers whom I knew or suspected to be sorcerers. In other words, for them healing was not merely a secondary activity to safeguard them against dangers associated with sorcery. Like those mananambal who were not sorcerers, the sorcerers were general practitioners of folk medicine. T h e fact that for these individuals healing was not merely a defensive arm of sorcery but a basic activity in its own right suggests that in the search for links between the roles of sorcerer and healer we should consider the entire healing role and not merely that facet of it concerned with treating sorcery cases. First, certain salient features of the healer's role should be briefly described. In Cebuano folk medicine, there are three fundamental medical roles: mananabang (midwife), manghihilot (masseur), and mananambal (general practitioner). T h e same individual may devote himself to all three roles, or he may specialize in one or two of them. It is the role of mananambal which draws our attention here. 5 O f the 30 mananambal I knew, 18 were men and 12 women. T h e youngest was 24 and the oldest 69. T h e extent of their education ranged from no schooling to completion of college. Most of them, however, had not attended school or had not gone beyond the elementary grades. Mananambal have special, personal relationships with spiritual benefactors whose power can be utilized to serve the needs of the mananambal's clients and patients. In the Cebuano area, patrons of mananambal include spirits of deceased mananambal, saints, Christ, and G o d . O f t e n the mananambal's most important methods for diagnosing and treating illnesses are those about which his spiritual mentor has informed him in dreams or visions; in some * For a more comprehensive discussion of the role of the mananambal, see Richard Lieban, "Qualification for Folk Medical Practice in Sibulan, Negros Oriental, Philippines," Philippine Journal of Science, Vol. 91 (1962), pp. 5 1 1 - 5 2 1 .

SORCERERS

31

instances, the mentor may diagnose and prescribe treatment for the illness of each patient of the mananambal. And the mananambal generally seeks more than information from his spiritual benefactor. He also tries to enlist the force of his benefactor into the treatment through prayer and utilization of symbols associated with his benefactor. No matter who the spiritual backer of the mananambal is and how the mananambal's connection with him is demonstrated and used, this connection offers the mananambal access to a source of extraordinary power. As one mananambal mixes a special medical compound, he prays to God: "Please bless this medicine because I have no power (gahum) of my own." The possession or transmission of exceptional power qualifies the mananambal and validates his continuing medical practice. It is considered the basis of his success, so each success reaffirms his power. A mananambal, exultant after the improvement of one of her patients, expressed her feelings this way: "If only my knowledge and power will stay with me to the end of my life I will save many lives." She claimed that this knowledge and power came from God and the saints. In Philippine folk medicine, the stressed attribute of Christian symbols used in healing is their power. This emphasis is epitomized in discussions about the treatment of sorcery illnesses, which ultimately can be seen as a struggle between God and the devil. One mananambal, after discussing how sorcery is effected by a spirit at the instigation of man, was speaking of the potency of his oration, a special incantation believed to possess miraculous power, in treating sorcery illnesses. "All da-ut (sorcery) is by the agents of the devil," he said. "The oration is from God, and nothing is as powerful as God." The view of the situation in which a healer treats a sorcery victim as a confrontation between God and the devil, with God's power superior, has roots in the religious history of the Philippines. Early Spanish missionaries and colonists defined

C E BUANO

SORCERY

the spirits of the pagan religious world as representations of the devil in a universe where G o d was supreme. 6 T h e effort to convert the Filipinos to Christianity was seen in terms of the struggle between G o d and the devil for the souls of Filipinos, so, ipso facto, the spread of Christianity among the Filipinos became testimony to the supremacy of G o d over the devil. T h a t God's power should so frequently have a medical locus in contemporary folk Catholicism in the Philippines is not surprising in view of the fact that one of the most important appeals persuading Filipinos to convert to Christianity was a belief in the medical efficacy of baptism, 7 and Christian symbols were utilized for their healing properties beginning early in the Spanish era. T o cite one instance, a Jesuit father, writing at the beginning of the seventeenth century about the experiences of a member of his order in a Philippine village, stated that a woman in the community had been bewitched, whereupon she was seized with trembling and paroxysms and tried to throw herself out of a window. Our brother sent to ascertain what this disturbance meant, and when he learned what had happened he called the husband and gave him a little piece of the Agnus in a reliquary, exhorting him at the same time to have faith, and promising that his wife would soon be healed. . . . The husband went home with the Agnus, and no sooner had he applied it to his wife, than she was freed of the trembling and terror and remained calm. This occurrence soon became public, and another Indian [the term, "Indios," was used by the Spaniards to refer to people of the Philippines], who had been bewitched by the same Indian wo6

John L. Phelan, The Hispanization of the Philippines (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1959), p. 53; Antonio de Morga, "Events in the Filipinas Islands," in Emma H. Blair and James A. Robertson, eds. The Philippine Islands, Vol. 16 (Cleveland: A. H. Clark, 1904), p. 1 3 1 . Father Chirino, writing from the Philippines at the beginning of the seventeenth century, said: "All other government and religion is founded on tradition and on custom introduced by the Devil himself, who spolce to them through their idols and the ministers of these." (Pedro Chirino, "Relation of the Filipinas Islands," in Emma H. Blair and James A. Robertson, eds. The Philippine Islands, Vol. 12 [Cleveland: A. H. Clark, 1904], p. 263.) 'John L. Phelan, op. cit., p. 55.

SORCERERS man, on seeing this marvel was convinced that God granted health to those who invoked Him; accordingly he asked for the same relic, and the result was conformable to his faith. 8 W h i l e the contemporary Cebuano healer may have access to God's power, directly or through saints or other spiritual intermediaries, the utilization of this power by the healer is circumscribed. Divine power can be employed by the mananambal only for constructive purposes, predominantly healing; it cannot be used to harm men. God may punish men for their transgressions. For example, through a curse called gaba people may suffer divine retribution in the form of illness if they abuse their parents or other older persons who are owed respect. Even epidemics may be attributed to divine punishment. One explanation for an outbreak of cholera in a nearby town during my research in Cebu City was that the officials of the town shortly before the outbreak had postponed the date of the town's annual fiesta for its patron saint. Divine punishment may be prophesied by men, or they may pray that it befalls those who have wronged them, but divine punishment is not at the disposal of men to use against their fellowmen. It strikes the sinner directly through divine action; it is not transmitted through the behavior of a special human agent in the sense that divine healing power may be drawn upon and channeled through the acts of a mananambal. However, whereas the use of the power that the mananambal derives from God is confined to the preservation and repair of life, if the individual who is a mananambal desires to expand his control over events, there are other, dark sources of extraordinary destructive power available to him. Both healing and sorcery share a crucial dependence on extraordinary power, ultimately spiritual in origin. Apparently many who are mananambal have recourse only to forms of this power that are ameliorative and protective. For others, this is not enough. T h e significance of power for the latter, in their practice of sorcery, will be more fully explored. 8

Pedro Chirino, op. cit., p. 186.

34

CEBUANO

M O T I V A T I O N FOR

SORCERY

SORCERY

A number of observers have posited the importance of sorcery and witchcraft beliefs and behavior as outlets for aggression in society.9 This can be true for those who practice or sponsor sorcery, as well as for those who accuse others of such behavior. For the Cebuano sorcerer, malign magic may be a means of expressing direct aggression against those who antagonize or injure him: in one case a sorcerer was reported to have victimized a boy who had destroyed his fish net and a man who stole fish from his fish trap; in another case a sorcerer was a watchman on a coconut plantation who, after catching a boy in the act of stealing coconuts several times and having the boy laugh at his warnings, finally lost patience and killed the boy with his sorcery. However, since most sorcery is practiced on behalf of a client, the sorcerer's intended victims may be people he does not know, or at least with whom he does not have personal conflict. This characteristic of Cebuano sorcery means that there are numerous opportunities for the sorcerer's hostile feelings to be displaced and expressed against persons whom his clients want sorcerized. Targets of the Cebuano sorcerer are not limited to enemies he develops on his own; his clients develop "enemies" for him to strike through his sorcery, further increasing outlets for his aggressions. T h e process is sharply illuminated in the following case, where a sorcerer is disposed toward more severe punishment of a prospective victim than one of her clients is. While I was present, four college students, members of a club, were consulting a sorcerer. A ring, valued at 70 pesos, had been stolen from a girl who belonged to the club. The ring, which was to serve as a model for a new club ring, was being passed around 0 For example, A. Irving Hallowell, "Aggression in Saultaux Society," Psychiatry, Vol. 3 ( 1 9 4 0 ) , pp. 399-407; Clyde Kluclchohn, Navaho Witchcraft (Boston: Beacon Press, 1 9 6 2 ) , pp. 8 5 - 1 0 2 passim; W . J . Wallace and E . S. Taylor, "Hupa Sorcery," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, Vol. 6 ( 1 9 5 0 ) , p. 196.

SORCERERS at a meeting, so that all the members present could see what it was like, when it was taken. Leaders of the club had then come to hire the sorcerer to see if she could get the ring back by threatening to confuse the mind of the thief unless he returned it, a threat which would be made known to all members of the club by those hiring the sorcerer. The president of the club asked one of the other members talking to the sorcerer, "Is this the woman who punished D — ? " It seems that D — was a boy who had stolen a pair of shoes and was now considered buang (insane), wandering around at times without being dressed. When the answer was affirmative, the club president told the sorcerer, " I don't want you to go that far for only a ring that cost 70 pesos. That would be too much." The sorcerer said, "That ring cost more than the shoes." Since Cebuano sorcery is performed for hire, financial gain obviously is a motive for sorcery in the area. None of my informants depended solely on sorcery for a living; all of them received fees for healing, and they had other sources of income as well. It was not feasible to secure reliable data from sorcerers on income or percentages of income derived from sorcery, since even those who were frank with me apparently did not give full reports of their sorcery activities, and when sorcerers did discuss cases with me they tended to be circumspect about fees they had received. T h e fees which they mentioned were those supposedly secured by other sorcerers. This disinclination to discuss the commercial aspects of his own sorcery is consistent with the sorcerer's claim that he does not attack for personal gain, but in order to serve justice on behalf of wronged clients. Some of the fees I heard quoted for sorcery were quite high, but the power to sorcerize is by no means necessarily an avenue to wealth. One sorcerer I knew was virtually destitute. H e spoke of how other sorcerers' knowledge was no match for his, but in the same breath he said, " I n spite of this I am a very poor man." Y e t at least part of his meager earnings came from sorcery, and in the case of another sorcerer who had attained some wealth, there was substantial evidence that sorcery made an important contribution to her income. T h e opportunity to vent his aggression and to secure fi-

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nancial gain through sorcery is dependent on the sorcerer's possession of magical power. But this power per se also attracts devotion. T h e demonstration of power is a primary theme in sorcerers' discussions of their art. According to one sorcerer, when young men first learn the techniques of sorcery, they want to try them out continuously. T h e same informant said sorcerers at times test their power against each other, and the vanquished is humbled by having to seek treatment of his illness from the victor. In such contests, the outcome depends on the healing and prophylactic as well as the destructive power the individual possesses. A sorcerer, identified here as Raymundo, told of the following experience. While Raymundo was visiting in another community, a compare of his approached him and asked him for an amulet. (A parent and the baptismal sponsor of a child are compare to each other.) Raymundo declined, telling the man, " I know you are a barangan (sorcerer), and if I give you this you will be able to do it with impunity." Raymundo said his compare was hurt by this refusal, and after his compare left the house, Raymundo felt a pain in his chest, and he fell to the floor. He treated himself, and after 30 minutes the stinger of a ray came out of his chest. He then went to his compare and asked him what was the meaning of this. His compare told him that he should not be angry, that he (the compare) had just wanted to test him, and he (Raymundo) had proved himself. Assertions of his power occupy an important place in Raymundo's consideration of himself. T o quote from an autobiographical sketch he provided: " I have tried the power of what I know against people who are sorcerers and witches and others who poison [the reference here is to persons who sorcerize through the magical poisoning techniques called hilo] and I have proved that what I have is more powerful than what these people have." From what has been said so far, it is apparent that sorcerers are strongly attracted by power. It is deadly power, yet on the whole it gives sorcerers relatively little control over the behavior of others, except that behavior which is symp-

SORCERERS

37

tomatic of illness or dying. There is a considerable gap between the Cebuano sorcerer's magical power and his social power. Power in society rests with one who is able to secure the compliance of others with his wishes. While this compliance may be given willingly, coercion is at least implicit in the concept of social power. Weber speaks of power as "the probability that one actor within a social relationship will be in a position to carry out his will despite resistance, regardless of the basis on which this probability rests." 1 0 Other definitions are explicit in making the ability to employ force an essential attribute of power in a social or political context. 11 Although the Cebuano sorcerer has the capacity to wield devastating force through magic, he does not have commensurate control over social action. As we have seen, a sorcerer may threaten at times to attack someone if that person does not assent to the sorcerer's or his client's wishes, and I was informed by sorcerers and clients of instances when such warnings had been effective in bringing about the desired behavior in the prospective victim. In addition, it is believed that once a man becomes victimized by sorcery and does not respond to medical treatment, his only possibility of recovery may lie in rectifying his behavior in accordance with the wishes of the sorcerer or his client. I was told of cases in which this had occurred. However, most Cebuano sorcery is clandestine, and if secrecy hides the sorcerer, it also hides his power. Because Cebuano sorcery is usually a covert activity, a sorcerer may attack someone who subsequently becomes ill but who does not attribute this to sorcery, or someone may ascribe his illness to sorcery when none was practiced against him, or, if sorcery was practiced against him, it is possible 10 Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organization, trans. A. M. Henderson and Talcott Parsons (New York: Oxford University Press, 1947), p. 152. 11 Robert Bierstedt, "An Analysis of Social Power," American Sociological Review, Vol. 15 (1950), p. 735; Morton H. Fried, "Anthropology and the Study of Politics," in Sol Tax, ed. Horizons of Anthropology (Chicago: Aldine, 1964), p. 1 8 1 .

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SORCERY

that the act was performed by someone other than the person whom h e suspects. T h e sorcerer, of course, is in no position to use the lethal force h e controls to compel an intended or stricken victim to comport himself in accordance with the wishes of the sorcerer or his client if t h e victim is unaware of a threat to his health or life by the particular sorcerer or client in question. M o s t of my informants who suspected specific individuals of sorcerizing them or sponsoring such attacks had not been threatened before their illnesses with sorcery by t h e individuals in question, nor had the suspects admitted instigating or practicing sorcery against them after they b e c a m e ill. In some cases when threats had been made, they were usually couched in general terms, such as, " Y o u will b e sorry for what you have done." I n most instances such warnings were promises of irrevocable retaliation for deeds done rather than pressures for modification of conduct in adherence to the wishes of the one making the threat. Such information conformed to what sorcerers themselves tend to emphasize about the use of their destructive abilities: not to control conduct, b u t to punish misconduct. Since the magical power of the sorcerer is not readily convertible into social power, he is drawn to sorcery not so much by the opportunity it provides for controlling decisions of others, but by the unusual capacity it affords to inflict illness and death on others. H e primarily asserts his special ability to control events by destruction in the name of just punishment. SORCERY

AND

"JUSTICE"

Although previous reference has been made to the sorcerer's portrayal of himself as an agent of righteous vengeance, at this point I would like to go more deeply into this phase of the sorcerer's behavior and associated moral issues. T h e Cebuano sorcerer is not a sanctioned executioner of society. In the Philippines, capital punishment is t h e prerogative of the state, so t h e sorcerer has no legal right to kill.

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39

However, he can depict himself as a supralegal instrument of ultimate justice. W h i l e the sorcerer violates basic legal and moral prescriptions of his society against injuring or killing others, his ideology affords him an important defense of his conduct by shifting the burden of guilt from the sorcerer to his victim. In discussions of his purpose and justification of his actions, the sorcerer may be very concerned with immorality: that of his victims who have transgressed against him or his clients. As the sorcerer defines it, he does not serve evil, but justice, and it is on this basis that he vindicates his sorcery. As one sorcerer expressed it, " M y conscience is clear because this is done only against those who are guilty of wrongs against their fellowmen." T h e careful investigation of his clients' claims which the sorcerer is supposed to undertake is designed to ensure that his power will not be misused in an unjust cause. And ultimately there is a guaranteed safeguard against such a mistake according to the conventional belief that sorcery will not work against an innocent party. In this system of justice, trial and punishment are one; the death of the victim establishes his guilt. T h e belief that sorcery will not take effect against the innocent helps the sorcerer to present himself as a morally concerned champion of merited retribution rather than merely a callous or malevolent killer. It is in this light that the sorcerer may attempt to reconcile his acts with religious beliefs of his society. T o illustrate, a sorcerer was talking about a case in which he served a client involved in a land dispute. T h e same piece of land was claimed by the client and another man, who became ill after he was subjected to the sorcerer's attack. "Some people," said the sorcerer, "believed that the man got sick because he claimed land that was not his, and G o d punished him. T h a t is the right idea." This statement is particularly interesting when considered in relation to the fact that divine retributive power is not directly available to the sorcerer. I never heard of an attempt to enlist and direct it through sorcery rituals. This is a char-

4

o

CEBUANOSORCERY

acteristic of Cebuano magic discussed before, and nothing in the considerable amount of information about methods of sorcery the above informant gave me contradicted it. The support he drew upon for his sorcery was that of an ingkanto; he invoked the aid of God or saints for healing purposes. Although the informant did not elaborate on this statement about God's punishing the victim the informant had sorcerized, the implication is that God had allowed the sorcery to work, rather than rendering his retribution directly through the acts of the sorcerer. Additional data from the same informant support this conclusion. Once he was discussing antiwil, a form of sorcery sponsored by a man or wife whose spouse commits adultery. (See the Appendix for a description of this method of sorcery.) If antiwil is practiced, the offending spouse and his or her lover are unable to disengage after sexual intercourse. During this discussion, I asked the sorcerer whether special oils mixed with holy symbols (such as the cross, chips off of church altars, fragments of prayer books, and drops of holy water) could be used as amulets against antiwil. These oils, representative of divine power, are widely employed for amuletic and healing purposes. The sorcerer replied that such an oil cannot prevent antiwil. "Maybe it agrees with the idea," he said. In this perspective, the principle that sorcery will only harm a guilty man implies that such a man is vulnerable because he has lost God's protection, and if the success of the sorcerer is not realized with divine commission, it is at least evidence of divine omission in the cause of justice. Having considered characteristics of the ideology and behavior of sorcerers concordant with the sorcerer's definition of his role as that of a servant of justice, we now turn to contradictory data which also concern or are from sorcerers. By so doing, we can more meaningfully assess the relationship between the purpose of the sorcerer as we have been examining it from the standpoint of the sorcerer vindicating his behavior and the motivation for sorcery as previously discussed. W e begin with a case study.

SORCERERS

4*

Danilo, a sorcerer as well as a healer, treated a woman for an illness with high fever which he suspected might have been caused by sorcery. W h e n Miguel, a distant relative of Danilo's and also a sorcerer, visited Danilo's house, Danilo asked him whether he had done this to the woman, and Miguel admitted he had. Miguel explained that he had prenda rights on a bamboo grove owned by the woman. (Under prenda arrangements, an individual lends money to another without interest in return for all rights of ownership on a piece of land possessed by the debtor. T h e owner can redeem his rights to the land when he pays off his debt.) 1 2 Miguel said that the woman's father who had made the prenda agreement with him may not have told his daughter about the arrangement. At any rate, after the father died, his survivors began to gather bamboo from the grove, which they had no right to do so long as Miguel held the prenda on it. Miguel kept quiet about this, but he performed sorcery and the woman became ill. Miguel said that the woman actually was not the one collecting the bamboo—it was her son-in-law who did this—but she was the only heir to the bamboo land, and Miguel thought she was ordering her son-in-law to gather the bamboo. W h e n Danilo was told this, he asked Miguel to stop the sorcery against this woman because she was a first cousin of his, although she was not related to Miguel. A t Danilo's request Miguel ceased the sorcery, and the patient, who had not been responding to treatment, recovered within two weeks. After the woman got well, Miguel visited her and explained about the prenda, which Danilo said the woman had known nothing about, and the woman apologized and said it would not happen again. D a n i l o was m y i n f o r m a n t f o r this case, and several points are worth noting about his account and interpretation of the situation. First, while sorcerers are supposed to investigate carefully the case against a potential victim, Miguel's reported behavior does not m e e t that standard. H e is reported to have said that it was possible his victim was unaware of the prenda before h e launched the attack, and h e only assumed she h a d ordered her son-in-law to collect the wood. According to Danilo's account, M i g u e l asked no questions to determine the actual responsibility of his victim-to-be for the u

Robert A. Poison and Agaton P. Pal, The Status of Rural Life in

the Dumaguete City Trade Area, Philippines 1952, Data Paper No. 21, Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University ( 1 9 5 6 ) , p. 93.

CEBUANOSORCERY violation of the agreement. He kept silent, and he struck. Second, as Danilo saw the situation, a mistake was made; the victim was actually innocent of any wrong-doing in the case. Yet the sorcery was effective against her. On the basis of this information from Danilo one might conclude that sorcerers are not necessarily always judicious in deciding the guilt of their victims, and neither is their sorcery. It should be emphasized that in the situation discussed by Danilo, he was not acting as a sorcerer, but as a healer, identified with his patient's interest. No comparable lapses of justice were mentioned by Danilo when he discussed his own sorcery, and this accords with the behavior of other sorcerers, who were self-righteous about their own sorcery, but who, as healers, frequently attributed the sorcerizing of their patients to malicious or envious people. In other words, at least when it is not contrary to their interests, sorcerers do recognize situations in which sorcery is not purely an instrument of justice. Other information, also from sorcerers, was inconsistent with the principle that the magic employed by the sorcerer is only effective when punishment is warranted. For example, the same informant, Danilo, said that if the mangungkong tree (Celtis luzonica), a plant with symbolically deleterious qualities employed by him in sorcery, is used for housing materials, people in the dwelling will get sick. He also said that igdalaut, a general mixture of many noxious components which he used in sorcery, could not be kept in the house, for it would make people living there ill. In other words, these ingredients used in his sorcery rituals possess a potency whose action is automatic and amoral. Discussions of tests between sorcerers indicate that these struggles also do not fit the idea that the effectiveness of sorcery is influenced by guilt or innocence. From what sorcerers say about these struggles, they are decided solely by the greater power of the victor. In these discussions and in descriptions of unrestrictedly baleful qualities of his sorcery ingredients, the sorcerer is most interested in the subject of

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43

power, frequently his own, which he exalts; and in these circumstances, it is the wonders of power and bold assertions of power, not moral restraints on power, that command his attention. Additional data disconnecting sorcery and justice pertain to the question of whether the guilty can safeguard themselves against sorcery by using sacred amulets. One sorcerer, as reported above, said that this could not be done, at least against one form of sorcery. But on other occasions the same informant said good amulets could provide the guilty with protection against sorcery, and similar observations were made by other sorcerers. These two views about amulets support the sorcerer in different situations. T h e belief that an amulet cannot immunize a guilty man against sorcery is a moral defense for the sorcerer if he succeeds; the belief that an amulet can effectively shield the guilty is a cognitive defense for the sorcerer if he fails. T h e latter belief again puts the question of success or failure strictly on a power basis. T h e sacred amulet has its own great protective strength, and he who wears it is invulnerable regardless of his moral liability. Flexibility of Cebuano beliefs about sorcery is expressed when the sorcerer, depending on the situation, either speaks conventionally of the precedence of justice over power, or describes power with priority over all else. My informants gave no indication that they were aware of anything incongruous in this, and from at least one viewpoint, which would not be that of the sorcerers, much of their diverse information pertinent to the problem of the relationship between sorcery and justice has an underlying consistency. That is, it is possible for an observer to discern power as the supreme value of the sorcerer's role not only in discussions by sorcerers of such matters as combat between sorcerers in which power is manifestly prized above all other qualities, but also in affirmations by the same sorcerers that sorcery cannot work against an innocent man. For a corollary of this is that a sorcery victim is a guilty man, and in a sense this means that

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success justifies the act. Looked at in this way, power also is valued above all other considerations, in terms of "might makes right." SKETCH OF A SORCERER

I do not want to discuss biographical data about Danilo, or examine in detail his personal characteristics and his varied current activities and associations. However, since this sketch is going to concentrate on Danilo's behavior in relation to sorcery, I would first like to strike a note of balance by indicating that Danilo is a man of considerable wit, intelligence, and charm, a devout man, a responsible family man, a man with numerous friends, and apparently a man able to find a variety of socially approved gratifications in life. Sorcery is a significant part of Danilo's life, but it is also a life that can connect with others in harmonious and supportive ways. Before I met Danilo, he had heard that I was doing research on folk medicine and talking to other mananambal in the area. Finally he sent a message: " I f that American really wants to find out something about Bisayan medicine why doesn't he come to somebody who knows?" It was this urge to impress me that apparently led Danilo to make disclosures which I am certain were against his better judgment. T h e first time I met Danilo, he made an unexpected revelation. He was treating patients when I first came in, and it was only later after he finished with his patients that we had a chance to talk. W e discussed various illnesses which he treated and I asked him whether these included illnesses caused by ancestors, witches, and barang. At first he scoffed and said he did not believe in those kinds of illness. Then suddenly he asked me if I had ever seen barang. I said no. W i t h a slight smile, but with some apparent tension, he went into the next room and came back carrying a bamboo tube. ( I have seen another Cebuano sorcerer with this same type of container, and Tan writes that one of her informants reported his uncle, who lived in Siquijor, an island famous

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45

for its sorcery, came to a fiesta in a town in Cebu with a covered bamboo tube, and when he poured out its contents there were snakes, centipedes, beetles, ants, and bees inside.) 1 3 Danilo took the top off the tube and showed me the contents, a number of small, crawling beetles. Although I tried not to show it, I was very startled at this exposure, for I had only known him for several hours. I anticipated that this would be a prelude to a fairly rapid self-unveiling of a sorcerer. I was mistaken. Danilo closed the container, took it back into the other room, and said nothing about it ever again. Actually, he did more to identify himself as a sorcerer in that moment during our first meeting than he did in days of subsequent interviews. During these early interviews, he told me a great deal about sorcery methods and the behavior of sorcerers, but he did not mention anything of his own participation in sorcery. Eventually, when he knew me better, there were further self-revelations. For example he was talking about a method of sorcery which requires a special offering to the ingkanto. He told me about certain things used in the ritual, which is performed where the ingkanto dwells, and then he said, " I cannot show you the equipment since it is on a high cliff very far away." O n another occasion we were with a close friend of Danilo's who described an incident in which Danilo performed sorcery. Danilo seemed both disturbed and pleased by this, at times dissociating himself from the activity, but also at a certain point prompting his friend to indicate that the sorcery had worked. During the months that I knew Danilo he told me a good deal about his sorcery activities, but when he did, candor was often mixed with evasion, denial, circumspection. T h e ambivalent nature of his behavior in this regard was apparent. After a time, I do not believe that he was worried I might expose him. However, I do believe he was concerned throughout our relationship that I disapproved of this side of his life, al13 Crispina Tan, " A Study of Popular Beliefs and Practices on Death and Burial in Rural Cebu" (M.A. thesis on file at San Carlos University, Cebu City, Philippines) (1962), p. 31.

6

4

CEBUANO

SORCERY

though I did nothing consciously to indicate this. Although each exposure of himself further risked my moral judgment, these exposures were also further revelations or magnifications of the exceptional power he possessed. Danilo enjoyed savoring the sweetness of power. Once he was talking about the collection of fees by sorcerers from clients, and he said sometimes the sorcerer would not request payment until his mission had been completed. I asked what happened if the client refused to pay. Danilo laughed and said there was never any problem collecting. As Danilo described his relationship with the ingkanto who backs his sorcery, it is a strictly quid pro quo arrangement, in which Danilo is not a lowly subject of the spirit, with a broken will, but an individual who retains his independence, paying the spirit only for services rendered. Thus Danilo spoke of a type of sorcery in which the ingkanto is asked to attack a person whose name is written on a piece of paper by the sorcerer, and the sorcerer promises an offering later to the ingkanto for doing this. When I asked what happened if the ingkanto did not heed the request, Danilo replied that he would not make the offering to the ingkanto, and, as far as he is concerned, the ingkanto must fulfill his part of the mutual obligation before Danilo does his part. One morning as I was leaving Danilo's house, he and a protégé of his followed me out, and Danilo said they were going to a nearby town to see Felomino, "who only takes his roots from the west side of the tree." (Such roots are used in sorcery because the sun sets in the west.) Danilo's protégé explained that Danilo was being consulted by the other sorcerer because Felomino had taken on a case, and he had not succeeded, so he wanted to find out what he had done wrong and rectify his procedures accordingly. Nothing more was said about this until several weeks later when Danilo suggested I inquire about what happened to Antonio, indicating that this was connected with Danilo's conference with Felomino, and that Antonio was Danilo's and Felomino's victim. I did inquire and found out that Antonio had suddenly

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47

collapsed on the street and had been taken to a hospital where he died a short time later. T h e man giving me this information said that he heard Antonio had died of tuberculosis, and the next time I saw Danilo I told him this. He was only momentarily phased. Then he said, " T h a t T B was quick, wasn't it?" (A subsequent check of hospital records showed that the death of Antonio, who had a history of high blood pressure, was attributed to a cerebro-vascular accident.) Certain Cebuano areas where I did not work, such as Siquijor island or the community of Opon on Mactan island, are especially famous for sorcerers. I considered visiting these areas, but sorcery was only one of a number of problems I was studying, and I felt without a stay of some duration in a community, it was unlikely I would turn up much of value about a subject such as sorcery. Still Cebuano beliefs about sorcery in Siquijor and Opon influenced me, and consequently I had the impression that sorcerers there might be especially knowledgeable. However, as time passed and Danilo told me more and more about sorcery procedures, I became aware of what an unusually prolific source of information he was on this subject. No other informant had his breadth and precision of information about methods of sorcery. Eventually one day I was talking to the protégé of Danilo mentioned above, and I said it was hard to believe that sorcerers in Siquijor or Opon knew even more about sorcery than Danilo. T h e protégé's reply hardly seemed an exaggeration when he said of Danilo, " H e is the master of the masters."

5 Methods of Sorcery

A

LTHOUGH a spirit is the ultimate source of the sorcerer's .power, and the relationship with him is a necessary condition for the sorcerer's success, in the great majority of sorcery methods the spirit is not invoked to effect simply and directly the wishes of the sorcerer. Many methods of sorcery do not involve the spirit as a participant, or if they do, they also include objects, actions, forces, or other spirits which have pernicious qualities in their own right. Certain components recur in Cebuano sorcery methods, but the methods are quite diverse. I have data on more than 25 of them, and some of these have variant forms. Most of the information about these methods came from the sorcerers discussed in the previous chapter. None of the sorcerers had a repertory that included all of the methods discussed in this volume, and frequently a procedure whose details were known to one had never been heard of by another. These variations in knowledge were due in part to regional differences in sorcery methods between the two Cebuano areas in which I worked, and in part to individual differences in information which sorcerers in the same area had about their art. T h e six kinds of sorcery discussed in this chapter appear to 48

METHODS

OF

SORCERY

49

be t h e most significant in the areas studied, in terms of the extent to which a t least some knowledge about them is disseminated in one or both of t h e areas, a n d / o r in terms of the frequency with which illness and death are attributed to them. T h e remainder of sorcery methods about which I secured information are discussed in t h e Appendix. I t should b e noted that with one exception descriptions of sorcery procedures do not refer to behavior which I observed. A t the same time, judging from the act of sorcery I did witness and from the objects shown to m e by sorcerers which corresponded to the special objects reportedly used in these sorcery methods, I believe that t h e described procedures guide real behavior. M o s t information about these methods was provided by a few knowledgeable individuals whose accounts were similar with respect to certain core features of a particular method, but differed in the number and nature of details described. W h e n two or more versions of the same method were secured, I have used that which provides most information about the method. In this way, the reader is given a description of the method which not only indicates its general character b u t also includes more specialized information that may have been possessed by only one of my informants. O f course, it is possible that this information may b e known by other C e b u a n o sorcerers with whom I had no contact. I n any event, within limits, typical knowledge should not b e the criterion for establishing what is the " c o r r e c t " version of a method, since the most accomplished sorcerers are also those who possess extraordinary knowledge of their art. Important differences between informants on certain points have been indicated in the descriptions. In addition, data concerning counter-sorcery have been included when they apply specifically to the type of sorcery discussed. T w o principles of technique which may b e combined in the same method are discernible in these procedures. First, in some cases the sorcerer uses an agent—an object, sub-

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stance, essence, or spirit—to attack his victim. It is the agent which accomplishes the purpose of the sorcerer. Second, in other instances it is a representation of the sorcerer's purpose which accomplishes it. W h e r e this second principle is operative, a representation of the victim and/or a representation of what will befall him are fundamental components of the method. T h e symbols of the procedure are magical in that they not only represent the sorcerer's intentions, but they are used to realize them as well. In the first three methods discussed, barang, usik, and hilo> the sorcerer relies on an agent to destroy his victim. In one variant of the fourth method, paktol, representational procedures are combined with the use of an agent. In the other variant of paktol and in the last two methods described, la-ga and sampal, representation is the weapon. BARANG

Barang is the most frequently mentioned form of sorcery in the Cebuano area as a whole. 1 Sometimes the term is employed generically for sorcery; at other times it refers to a specific type of malign magic in which insects or other animals are sent into the body of a victim by the sorcerer. T h e sorcerer who practices barang is called a barangan or mamalarang. T o accomplish his purpose, he uses insects or other animals, which are also called barang. These might be centipedes, bees, wasps, beetles, small snakes, or weevils. According to the informant whose account is used here, these are not ordinary specimens of the animals in question. T h e insects, for example, have seven legs rather than six, and the sorcerer originally acquires his animals from another veteran sorcerer who breeds them. Even with their special qualities, these animals will not harm anyone unless the sorcerer com1 Reference to barang in a Cebuano area other than Cebu and Negros Oriental is made in Francisco Aparele, " T h e Care of the Sick and the Burial of the Dead in the Rural Areas of Bohol and Their Educational Implications" ( M . A . thesis on file at San Carlos University, Cebu City, Philippines) ( i 9 6 0 ) , p. 28.

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51

mands them to do so. (I was shown beetles, called tawak, by three sorcerers as examples of insects used in barang, and one informant, not the individual whose information provided the basis for this description, gave me specimens of this insect later scientifically identified as Alphitobius laevigatus Fabricus [Alphitobius piccus Olivier], a black fungus beetle found in damp situations breeding in grain and cereal products. These specimens were ordinary six-legged beetles, not seven-legged insects referred to in my informant's description of the method.) The sorcerer keeps his barang animals in a bamboo tube. On Friday at noon, preferably during or near the period of the last phase of the moon, called himatayon, the "dying moon," the sorcerer makes sure that he is alone, and he writes the name and address of his intended victim on a sheet of paper which he drops into the tube. After a time, he looks into the tube to see if the paper has been consumed by the animals. If it has, this is the first sign that the animal will accept the assignment of the sorcerer. The animals may not eat the paper if the procedure is attempted at the wrong time, or if the victim is innocent, or has an effective amulet. Even if the object of the attack is innocent, the animals might eat the paper and approach him, but they will not molest him. After the insect eats the paper, the sorcerer dips a branch of the kalamongay tree into the tube and says, "Those who will obey my commands may come up." A few will climb up the branch to the sorcerer who puts them in a porcelain plate and places the lid back on the bamboo tube. The sorcerer next ties a piece of white thread to each animal, around the seventh, rear leg if they are insects. Instructions to the animals follow, the sorcerer repeating the name and address of the intended victim, providing an exact description of him, and telling the animals where he would like them to bite the victim. After these instructions, the sorcerer tells the animals to go and return to the same spot by the following day at the same time. The animals then disappear. If they

5

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C E B Ü A N O S O R C E R Y

attack the intended victim, they enter his body invisibly through its orifices, and they bite such organs as the liver, kidney, intestines, or lungs. A t least some of the animals return the next day, and the sorcerer can tell whether they have been inside the intended victim's body if there are blood stains on the threads. If the threads are not bloodstained, this means that the animals did not carry out their mission, perhaps because the marked man is innocent or has an effective amulet. When the threads are stained, the sorcerer removes them from the animals which he returns to the bamboo tube. He then calls forth animals from the tube again, using the same procedures as those of the previous day, but this time he instructs the animals not to come back until the victim is dead. They return the same day the victim dies. Symptoms of the victim include bleeding, swelling, and pain in the areas where the animals are biting. 2 If the victim of barang goes for treatment to a mananambal who is also knowledgeable about counter-sorcery, and if the victim wants to avenge himself against his attacker, this can be done in the following way. After the mananambal extracts the barang animals, dead or alive, from the victim's body, they are wrapped in a black piece of cloth. This package is placed in a pot with water, to which has been added 3 Evidence that ideas of barang are related to comparable notions of sorcery in Malaya can be found in Richard Windstedt, The Malay Magician (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1 9 5 1 ) . On p. 25, he writes: "As a familiar, the Bajang may be the hereditary property of his owner, but more often is conjured up at night from the newly dug grave of a stillborn child. He is kept in a stoppered bamboo vessel and fed with eggs and milk; released he will cause sickness and delirium to his victims, especially children. Formerly in Perak anyone discovered by a magician to be keeping a Bajang was generally put to death." Windstedt goes on to say (p. 26) that there are familiars that will assume the form of a tiny animal, reptile, or insect, and a favorite shape is that of a house-cricket. "This vampire cricket is employed especially by jealous wives to injure a rival or that rival's children. It enters the victim's body through the ear, and if mastered by the medicine-man quits by way of the fontanel. T h e method of its acquisition was practiced by Malaya's aborigines and in Indochina."

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the sap of the following trees: badyang (Alocasia macrorrhiza), alipata (Excoecaria agallocha), gusoguso (Euphorbia tirucalli), and sorosoro (Euphorbia neriifolia). (My informant described the first plant as "itchy," and the other three as having sap that is "hot.") In this, as in all other forms of sorcery or counter-sorcery, parts of the plant used are selected from its west side, because the sun sinks in that direction, and the object is to get the intended victim to sink as well. On the other hand, parts of the eastern side of plants are employed in healing, because of the reverse analogy. In addition to the sap of the four plants mentioned above, seven pieces of the balikbalik tree (Croton sp.) are put in the pot. (The term balikbalik means "return" in Cebuano.) The pot is covered with seven leaves of gabi (Colocasia esculenta), also described by my informant as an itchy plant. Next the liquid in the pot is boiled, using branches of four trees, the balikbalik, mangungkong, kanomay (Diospyros multi-flora), and balalanti (Macaranga tanarius) for fuel. The last three trees were particularly important to one of my informants, and their use recurs in several other methods described below for which he was the principal source of information. He said these trees were utilized because mangungkong means "cramping" in Cebuano, and the kanomay and balalanti are "hot" trees. After the ingredients in the pot have been cooked until all the fuel is consumed, the procedure is finished, and the sorcerer who sent the barang animals will be stricken with the symptoms of barang himself, as well as a fever and perhaps stomach trouble. The general term for procedures such as this, through which illness sent by a sorcerer is routed back to him, is balisung. USIK

Usik means "waste, spend extravagently." The term is used to refer to a type of sorcery in the Cebu City area and to a type of witchcraft in the Sibulan area. It is in its former

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usage that the term is employed here, and discussion of the latter use of the term is deferred to the next chapter on witchcraft. I have far less data on specifics of the method of usik than of barang, perhaps because none of my informants practiced usik, although illness is attributed to this form of sorcery with some frequency in the Cebu City area. Most informants agreed that usik is akin to barang in that the usikan, the sorcerer who does usik, intrudes insects or other animals into the body of the victim. However, the animals were generally described as smaller than those used in barang, and one informant said that incantations used in the two methods were different. Another informant spoke of a form of usik called usik daginut, which is agonizingly slow in its effect, as tiny insects are introduced into the body and live in pores of the skin and hair follicles. They are exceedingly difficult to exterminate once they infest the victim. A third informant said that usik differs from barang in that lifeless matter—such as sand, glass, and pins—rather than animals, is introduced into the victim by the sorcerer. HILO

Hilo means "poison" or "venom" in Cebuano. When a man learns this method of sorcery, he agrees that he will first use it on a person in his own house. If he does not employ hilo against someone like his wife or child as his first victim, hilo will never work for him. The sorcerer who uses hilo goes to an "enchanted place," where he makes an impromptu altar of stones or branches. He surrounds the altar with long sharp blades fashioned of bagakai (Schizostachyum dielsianum), a bamboo. He prepares a special offering for his spirit sponsor, which is placed on the altar, and he asks the spirit to help him and to bring snakes to the spot. After this, poisonous snakes come, slithering over the blades of bagakai, on which they leave blood and venom. The parts of the blades coated in this way are then whittled off, and the shavings are mixed

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with parts of poisonous or itchy trees (names unspecified). When the compound is completed, it is sticky and looks something like beeswax. This poison can be introduced into the body of the victim in various ways. It can be given to him directly in food or drink. Or the sorcerer may secrete some of the hilo in his hand and simply pat his quarry on the back, with deadly effect. The hilo also may be intruded into the body through other, indirect methods. It may be put on a conductor, such as a floor slat, which carries the poison to the victim. Or it may be simply buried in the ground on a route along which the intended victim is expected to pass; when he steps over the hilo, it penetrates upward through his body. Symptoms of the hilo victim might include discharges of the blood from various parts of the body, a cough, swollen eyes, and a "muddy" stool.3 PAKTOL

The term paktol is used to refer to two different methods of sorcery. One variant of paktol, in which a human skull is used, is found in both the Sibulan and Cebu City areas. According to one informant (but not all), the skull must be that of an unbaptized person, "because when he was alive he never knew about God," and the sorcerer who practices paktol, known as a mamalaktol, should perform the ritual on a Friday, either at noon or 8:00 P.M. He goes to an "enchanted place," and there he gives a special offering to the spirit who backs him in his sorcery. The sorcerer places a 3 Ideas comparable to those of hilo are found among pagan groups in the Philippines. For example, it is reported that when Isneg of Luzon want to poison someone, they can secure the necessary ingredients from a shaman or from a snake which appears to them in a dream. "In the latter case, if they are willing, the ba-lat [snake] gives them a tryst: When they arrive at the meeting place, all they have to do is to extract the poison, which consists in chewed leaves from the mouth of the serpent. These chewed leaves . . . are mixed with the food or the betel of the person whose death is intended." (Morice Vanoverberg, "The Isneg Body and Its Ailments," Annali Lateranensi, Vol. 14 [1950], p. 2 2 1 . )

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skull on a table, and he takes seven leaves each from the mangungkong, kanomay, and balalanti trees. Seven leaves are placed on the right side of the skull, seven on the left side, and seven on the back, while a piece of paper with the name and address of the intended victim goes on the front of the skull. The leaves and paper are tied to the skull either with a piece of black cloth or a band of the nito vine (hygodium circinnatum). The sorcerer also fashions three wedges, one each from wood of the mangungkong, kanomay, and balalanti trees, and these are inserted between the black cloth or nito band and the skull. One of these three trees also provides a big branch that the sorcerer whittles into a club. The sorcerer next speaks to the skull, saying, "Now you are not a living person. You are among the dead, and I have a command for you. G o to the person written there (pointing to the paper) and kill him." Following this, he taps one of the wedges. Then he repeats the imprecation and taps another wedge. In all, he does this 21 times, with each wedge receiving a total of seven taps. If at any point the nito band breaks or the cloth tears, the victim dies immediately. When this main part of the procedure is completed, the sorcerer goes away and rests for about ten minutes. He then returns and speaks to the skull for the last time, saying, " I will go home now, and I hope you will do what I told you." This ends the procedure. If it is not effective the first time, the sorcerer can try it again. If paktol works, the victim dies in two weeks to a month. As paktol afflicts him, his symptoms are a very severe headache, tightening of the chest, great difficulty in breathing, and his tongue may retract inward its full length. The victim continually turns in torment because of the relentless head pain. In the other variant of paktol, which was described to me by informants in Cebu City but not Sibulan, a small wooden doll rather than a skull is used.4 Holes are bored in the doll 1 A report that for paktol a doll is used in northern Cebu and a skull in the southern part of the island can be found in Crispina Tan, " A Study of Popular Beliefs and Practices on Death and Burial in Rural

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in places that correspond to joints of the body, and also in the head and the neck. After the doll is prepared in this way, the sorcerer has it "baptized" by concealing it under his first child during baptism of the child. When the doll is used for sorcery, a piece of paper with the name of the intended victim is pasted on the doll. The sorcerer mentions the name written on the paper and then he says, "Now you will suffer for what you have done to me" (or to the client, if this is appropriate). The sorcerer next begins to say the Credo prayer, and when he reaches the part about the nailing of Jesus to the cross, he thrusts nails into the holes in the doll. He does not finish the prayer. So long as the nail is in a hole, the victim will feel pain in that part of his body, and the sorcerer may shift the pain by shifting the nails. If he wants the pain to be more severe, he pushes the nail in deeper, and if the nail goes through the doll the victim will die. The use of the doll in paktol exemplifies representational magic. What happens to the doll happens to the victim, and, according to one informant, the doll is baptized in order to make it "as vulnerable as the victim, to make it as much like him as possible," since the vast majority of Filipinos are baptized. Replicas, such as the doll, are so closely identified with victims that in the eyes of informants they can take on qualities of victims in more than a figurative sense. Seen in this way, the victim's vulnerability is not merely represented by attributes of the replica. The replica is as vulnerable as the victim, and the manner in which replicas are sometimes viewed can border on the animistic. To illustrate, one informant said that when a photograph of the victim is used to represent him in various types of sorcery, parts of the picture, which correspond to parts of the victim affected by the attack, may blur. The form of paktol which employs a skull combines the use of an agent with representational ideas. What is done to the skull stands for what will happen to the victim; if the C e b u " (M.A. thesis on file at San Carlos University, Cebu City, Philippines) ( 1 9 6 2 ) , p. 34.

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nito band breaks, so does the victim's life. Imprecations of the sorcerer make it clear, however, that the skull does not represent the victim. On the contrary, the spirit of the skull is sent to attack the victim at the behest of the sorcerer. LA-GA

In Cebuano, la-ga means "boil." The person who does this form of sorcery is called a manglala-ga. He first secures some part, possession, or trace of the intended victim—such as his hair, urine, feces, saliva, footprints, or garment—which serves as a representation of the victim. He is careful never to touch these things, handling them with a spoon, pin, or some other implement. The sorcerer wraps the representation of the victim in a leaf of the mangungkong, balalanti, or kanomay tree, and he carries this to an "enchanted place" where he calls to the spirit who backs his sorcery, saying, " I am here now, asking your help to kill the victim." The time chosen for the procedure should be noon or 8:00 P.M. on a Friday, especially if high tide occurs then. After alerting the spirit, the sorcerer makes a tripod of branches of one of the three trees mentioned above, on which he places a small pot. The contents of the pot are the wrapped representation of the victim and seven shellsful of igdalaut, a noxious potion mixed at 3:00 P.M. on Good Friday, "the time Christ died." Ingredients of igdalaut include three pieces each of the mangungkong, kanomay, balalanti, and bangkonay (Glochidion sp.) trees; three pieces of ginger, luy-a (Zingiber officinale); three pieces of dulaw (Curcuma longa) and paloypoy (Curcuma zedoaria), plants with properties resembling those of ginger; chopped pieces of a complete specimen of botbot halenhalen, a species of sea anemone, which the informant said will cause the skin to itch and "rot" if it is touched; a piece of starfish, called coroscoros in Cebuano; the poisonous part of the botete fish (Tetraodontidae sp.); three pieces of a cross from a cemetery; three pieces of a wooden coffin; three pieces of the skull of an unbaptized person; three hairs of a

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dead person; three teeth of a poisonous pit viper, the iliw (Trimeresurus wagleri); three pieces of the hive of wasps, kolonkolon (Vespidae sp.); and water taken from the hahagbahag (Synapta sp.), a sea animal which swells with high tide. After the representation of the victim and the igdalaut have been p u t in the pot, the pot is covered with leaves of the mangungkong, kanomay, and balalanti trees, and the leaves are fastened in place with a strip of nito that is wound seven times around the pot. For fuel, the sorcerer uses seven branches of each of the following trees: mangungkong, kanomay, balalanti, hagonoy (Wedelia biflora), alipata, sala (Lepidopetalum perrottetii), and lagondi (Vitex trifolia). H e ignites the fire using leaves of the first three trees mentioned. Once the fire begins to burn, the sorcerer must leave the scene because he will faint if he smells the smoke. W h e n the fire is out, he returns and makes sure that all of the fuel has been consumed. If la-ga works, the victim will have a high fever, body swelling, a heart attack, vomiting, and perhaps discharges of blood. SAMPAL

This procedure utilizes the characteristics of certain sea animals, such as the bahagbahag, whose bodies expand with water at high tide and reduce when the tide goes out. In some respects the method is similar to that of la-ga. It uses a representation of the victim wrapped in a leaf. T h e sorcerer brings this and long hairs of a dead woman to the sea at noon on Friday; the time is especially auspicious if the tide is high. T h e sorcerer gets a bahagbahag from the sea and puts it in a basin or pail. At high tide the bahagbahag is tumid with water, which remains in him after he is taken from the sea. T h e sorcerer ties a hair of the dead female around t h e bahagbahag near its tail. H e then uses three branches, one each from the mangungkong, kanomay, and balalanti trees. T h e sorcerer splits one of these branches enough to make it

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into a pincers, and the representation of the intended victim is held in this. T h e other two branches are used to pry open the mouth of the bahagbahag, and the representation of the intended victim is inserted into the body of the bahagbahag, where it remains after the sorcerer releases the pincers and withdraws them and the other two sticks. Another hair of the dead female is used to bind the front end of the bahagbahag. After this, the bahagbahag is returned to the sea, where it is tied to a rock or stick to keep it in place. W h e n sampal takes effect, the victim will have a very large stomach during high tide, with some, though not complete, reduction of the swelling at low tide. Eventually his body will "burst." If the sorcerer wants to kill his victim more rapidly, he puts the bahagbahag on the beach, where it dies. If this is done, before his death the victim will have very severe stomach pains and his stomach will shrink until it almost disappears. He will also have fever, highest at noon and lower when the sun goes down. If the day is cloudy, he will have no fever, but the pain will go on. Counter-sorcery in behalf of victims of sampal, as well as of la-ga and paktol, may be accomplished as follows. Shavings of the balikbalik tree are rubbed all over the patient's body, and then arranged in two piles, each of which is wrapped in a leaf of the badyang plant. One of these packages is buried in soil under a stove, and many branches of the mangungkong, kanomay, and balalanti trees are burned atop the soil covering this package. Next, the other package is taken to the sea. T h e one who does this must try to avoid meeting anyone enroute and to look only straight ahead as he walks. If he sees someone who might speak to him, he speaks first, since he must have the initiative; " h e must be in command." If he turns around at any point, "this breaks the idea." W h e n he reaches the sea he removes his clothes and wades out to where the water reaches his chin, and there he reaches down and buries the second package in the sand. If this countersorcery works, the symptoms of the illness return to the one who sorcerized the patient.

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SUPERNATURAL

While magic has been commonly defined as a means of coping with the supernatural, some serious objections have been voiced on this score. Principally at issue is the problem of whether the distinction between the natural and supernatural is only an intellectual artifact of modern Western culture and scientific thought, not applicable to many non-Western peoples among whom magical beliefs are most entrenched. A number of writers, either in general comments or with reference to specific societies, have disputed the idea that people in primitive societies, as yet untuned to modern scientific thought, distinguish the natural from the supernatural.5 Otto, who rejects the idea that the special quality ascribed to magic by its adherents can be properly called "supernatural efficacy," has this to say: "The conception of Nature as a single connected system of events united by laws is the final and most difficult outcome of abstraction; and this concept of nature, or at least some hint of it, must have been arrived at before there could be any place for its negation, the 'supernatural.' " 6 If Cebuano sorcery beliefs are examined in connection with this question, we find that when Cebuanos attribute illness or death to sorcery, witchcraft, or the actions of a spirit, they may speak of the victim's misfortune as la-in ("different"), dili natural ("not natural"), or occasionally an ins F o r example, see: S. F . Nadel, Nupe Religion (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1 9 5 4 ) , pp. 3 and 4; Jack Goody, "Religion and Ritual: T h e Definitional Problem," The British Journal of Sociology, V o l . 1 2 ( 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 1 5 5 ; Murray and Rosalie W a x , " T h e Notion of M a g i c , " Current Anthropology, V o l . 4 ( 1 9 6 3 ) , p. 498. In Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic Among the Azande (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1 9 3 7 ) , E . E . Evans-Pritchard writes: "Azande undoubtedly perceive a difference between what is considered the workings of nature on the one hand and the workings of magic and ghosts and witches on the other, though in the absence of a formulated doctrine of natural law they do not and cannot express the difference as we express i t " (p. 8 1 ) . 6 Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy (Toronto: Oxford, 1 9 3 6 ) , p. 1 2 2 .

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formant speaking English may use the term, "supernatural." Mananambal use various techniques to discover if an ailment is "natural" or not, and when a patient goes to a mananambal, frequently his rationale is that the illness is "not natural" and therefore will not be responsive to the medicine of a physician. Although Cebuanos make these distinctions, this does not necessarily refute the argument that simpler non-Western societies do not distinguish the natural from the supernatural, since the Cebuano case is not a satisfactory test. Lowland Christian Filipinos, such as the Cebuanos, do not constitute an isolated primitive society. They are peasants and town and city dwellers in a developing society who have been subject in varying degrees to major Western and modern influences, and most of my informants who believed in sorcery, or at the least in the possibility of its efficacy, had some formal schooling, ranging from one or two elementary grades to a university education. In any event, regardless of whether, or the extent to which, present Cebuano discriminations between natural and supernatural phenomena are derived from Western concepts or older, indigenous views of the universe, such discriminations are made, and they are a basic aspect of beliefs which Cebuanos have about sorcery and of their reactions to it. The exceptional qualities ascribed to sorcery by Cebuanos do not contrast directly with characteristics of the everyday world. To a certain degree, qualities of the natural environment and human adaptations to it serve as models for magical procedures. To be sure, this relationship between magic and the "real world" is largely symbolic. The symbols used in magic may be based on intrinsic properties of phenomena (e.g., the poison of an animal, or the heat of a fire), or they may derive from prior symbolic values given phenomena (e.g., the name of the balikbalik plant, or beliefs associated with the cross, described by an informant as a symbol of suffering as well as salvation and therefore usable in sorcery). In the latter case, intrinsic properties of phenomena may not be pertinent to their use as symbols in magic, and no matter

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what kind of symbol is employed, its significance is subject to the interpretation of the magician, and, with the plasticity of symbols, this can be an arbitrary process. Nevertheless, the influence of what nature is on what the sorcerer does should not be underestimated. Although the magician does not limit his designs according to the natural properties of phenomena, he harkens to them. Many of the qualities of resources used in Cebuano sorcery rituals that make them symbolically pernicious are obvious; for example, it is hardly coi n c i d e n t a l t h a t kanomay

(Diospyros

multiflora),

o n e of t h e

plants most frequently used in sorcery procedures, has strong toxic qualities and is used as a fish and arrow poison in the Philippines. 7 For the sorcerer, properties of nature that may have a certain analagous relevance to his purpose suggest supernatural properties of magic that have a causal relevance to his purpose. Thus, whereas small black beetles crawl, bite objects, and may, as an informant reported, be found in old wooden coffins that lie in cemeteries, and whereas these ordinary habits of the insects can be suggestive to the sorcerer, neither the sorcerer nor other Cebuanos who accept magical interpretations of events regard the invisible penetration of a man's body by beetles who bite vital internal organs of the man as an ordinary act of ordinary insects. T h e insects may be thought of as extraordinary versions of their natural counterparts; or if, as some informants say, they are only ordinary insects, they are believed to be empowered to accomplish their mission by a spirit at the instigation of a sorcerer. In any case, no matter how the special efficacy of barang is explained, to Cebuanos barang is "not natural." It should be emphasized that by no means would all interpretations by Cebuanos of events that they regard as natural meet canons of empirical validity, and this, of course, would also hold true for Western peoples. However, this is not the 7 Edwardo Quisumbing, Medicinal Plants of the Philippines, Republic of the Philippines, Dept. of Agriculture and Natural Resources, Technical Bulletin 16 (Manila, 1 9 5 1 ) , p. 705.

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point under discussion. What I am concerned with is whether Cebuanos make a distinction between phenomena they see as natural and those they think of as unnatural or supernatural. They do, and sorcery falls in the latter category. Even when a sorcery procedure contains the description of an act which is not magical, such as slipping the hilo mixture into the food or drink of a victim, as any poisoner might do, the hilo poison itself is a magical product which the sorcerer sees as supernatural and which can be administered by magical, as well as direct, means.

4 Witches

T

means "destroy," but it may also be used to refer generally to malign activities, including those of spirits and human beings capable of harming others through the use of supernatural power. However, in the Cebuano area, it is possible to differentiate broadly two kinds of destructive supernatural power attributed to human beings: that which derives from utilization of resources outside the individual, such as magical procedures and a relationship with a spirit; and that which is, or becomes, rooted in the individual, a constitutional resource. In this study, acts based on the former type of power are called sorcery; those based on the latter, witchcraft. 1 Although witches may also employ magical objects, and in some areas of the Philippines this is not uncommon, 2 in the communities where I worked, there HE CEBUANO T E R M da-ut

1 For comparable distinctions between sorcery and witchcraft see Notes and Queries on Anthropology, 6th and rev. ed. (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1 9 5 1 ) , p. 189; E . E . Evans-Pritchard, Witchcraft, Oracles and Magic Among the Azande (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1 9 3 7 ) , p. 21; and John Middleton and E . H . Winter in their introduction to the volume which they edited, Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa (New York: Praeger, 1 9 6 3 ) , pp. 1 - 2 5 passim. 2 For example, in an Uokano community of northwestern Luzon, the Nydeggers found that "some witches are thought to use mysterious and potent objects, others apparently do not. In either case it is the

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were no indications that any of those who told me about sorcery they performed thought of themselves as witches, nor did any of my informants who charged others with practicing forms of sorcery accuse these suspects of being witches as well. One phase of Cebuano witches' activities, which will be discussed and exemplified later, is somewhat ambiguous with respect to the above distinction between sorcery and witchcraft. This is a method by which the power of witchcraft is passed on from a witch to his victim when the latter eats something that has been hidden in his food by the witch. However, this object which engenders the power of witchcraft, unlike materials employed by sorcerers, is not available to all those who might want to practice malign magic. It is an exclusive possession of witches, and its effectiveness is linked to the power that resides in the witch. T h e distinction made between Cebuano sorcery and witchcraft has interesting social concomitants, but, before considering them, we will first discuss the two kinds of witches believed to exist in the Cebuano area. T H E A S W A N G OR

ONGO

The most fearsome witches are called aswang in Negros Oriental and ongo in the Cebu City area. From informants' descriptions, aswang and ongo are thought of by and large as possessing the same characteristics, and the former term, which seems to be more widespread in the Philippines, will be used here. 3 innate power of the witch that propels the evil force into the victim, the object providing the specific kind of illness or acting only as a reinforcement. If one is a witch, all the necessary power with which to do harm is present—magic objects and devices serve only to elaborate and refine." (William F . Nydegger and Corinne Nydegger, "Tarong: An Ilocos Barrio in the Philippines," in Six Cultures, ed. Beatrice B . Whiting [New York: John A. Wiley & Sons, 1963], p. 775.) 3 The term ongo is used in rural areas of Cebu island as well as in Cebu City (see Crispina Tan, " A Study of Popular Beliefs and Practices on Death and Burial in Rural Cebu" [M.A. thesis on file at San Carlos University, Cebu City, Philippines] [1962], p. 38). Richard Arens in

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The aswang, when he is not transformed into one of his special witch guises, looks like an ordinary human being, and he may begin life as such, without the power of a witch. Once he has this power, however, he can perform miraculous feats, and he can be a deadly menace to others. Waylaying people at night in isolated places, he may try to suffocate them by getting his long hair in their nostrils and overcoming them with the bad odor of a special oil he applies to himself when he attacks people. He may bite live men or feed on their dead flesh after killing them. His attacks may come after he has changed his body into that of an animal—a dog, pig, bird, and the like. To illustrate, I was told that some years before a woman thought to be an aswang attended a cockfight one afternoon, and as she sat watching the activities it was noticed that she wore no pants. A man present told her, "You are disturbing the people." She did not answer. Several people asked the man if the suspected witch wanted to wrestle with him would he consent. He said that if he did he would twist her head around. The incident went no further at the cockpit, and after the cockfight the man departed for home on horseback. When he reached a bamboo grove, a crow began to fly at him from behind. The crow went away, and immediately afterward the man was attacked by a big bat. The man fell from his horse, which found its way home. The man's son became worried and went out to look for his father, whom he found lying on the road in a very weakened condition. "Witches and Witchcraft in Leyte and Samar Island, Philippines," The Philippine Journal of Science, Vol. 85 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , p. 4 5 1 , reports that in the Waray-waray dialect of Samar and eastern Leyte the term for witch is aswang. Aswang beliefs among Tagalogs of Luzon and Bisayans of Panay are discussed respectively in Fletcher Gardner, "Philippine (Tagalog) Superstitions," Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 19 ( 1 9 0 6 ) , pp. 1 9 3 - 1 9 4 ; and W . H. Millington and Berton L . Maxfield, "Philippine (Bisayan) Superstitions," Journal of American Folklore, Vol. 19 ( 1 9 0 6 ) , p. 206. An account of aswang beliefs in the Bikol region of Luzon can be found in Francis X . Lynch, " A n Mga Asuwang: A Bicol Belief," The Philippine Social Sciences and Humanities Review, Vol. 1 4 ( 1 9 4 9 ) , pp. 4 0 1 - 4 2 7 .

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When the son brought his father home, he saw the woman suspected of being an aswang sitting under a nearby coconut tree. The man was treated by a mananambal, and he subsequently recovered. In addition to his ability to convert himself into an animal, an aswang may keep special animals, called sigbin, as pets. Sigbin can also cause illness, or they can kill with their bite. According to one informant, if a child is born to an aswang, the sigbin of the aswang will also have an offspring for the aswang's child. Descriptions of sigbin vary. Some say they can have the appearance of any animal; others say they look like rabbits or kangeroos.4 They are supposed to have special powers of disappearance and reappearance, and it is said they can be seen most frequently during the last phase of the moon. One informant said that a witch can change an ordinary cat or dog into a sigbin. He also said that if anyone killed a sigbin, the body should be burned, and that even if a hair of the sigbin is left, the whole animal can be resuscitated by the witch. Various names are given to the aswang, depending on his behavior or the particular form in which he appears. He is called a kaskas or wakwak when he makes those sounds. As a balbal, he preys particularly on sick people because their spirits are more vulnerable at that time. He secretes himself under the house, directly beneath the patient. He particularly likes to feed on human liver, which he attacks invisibly; or, also unseen, he sucks the blood of the patient. The aswang may fly without changing himself into a bird, with only his head and intestines aloft, and the rest of his body left behind. In this form he is called a mananangal. Or he may transform himself into a small, fierce bird, called a kiki. Some informants believed that one can be either born or made an aswang; others asserted that the witch's power cannot be passed on by heredity, but can only be acquired after birth through some kind of transference or contamination from another witch. One informant said an aswang can ei4

C f . Arens, op. cit., p. 453 and Tan, op. cit., p. 4 1 .

WITCHES

6

9

ther have an aswang or a normal offspring, but an aswang cannot be born to normal parents. W h e n the source of an aswang's power is transmitted to an ordinary person, he may become a witch himself, or he may become ill or die. Processes by which this transmission takes place are called salab, or, more frequently in the Cebu City area, takod sa ongo. Several kinds of salab were described to me. In one, an aswang may merely look at a person in a certain way, and the victim becomes weak and loses his appetite. Then he begins to act strangely and tries to fly, jumping from a window to the ground. Salab may also be effected by secreting something—described variously as a small bird, the liver of a sigbin, or some special scrapings—in the food of a prospective victim, and when he consumes this, it contaminates him. 5 A mananambal and a former patient of his, who both believed that the latter had been victimized in this way, described the situation when this occurred as follows: Eduardo is said to be an aswang, inheriting his power from his parents, who were also Said to be witches. There are a number of stories circulated in the neighborhood that express this belief about Eduardo. For example, a young man was courting Eduardo's sister, and after he left her house one night, he saw a cat which he chased. When he cornered the cat, it began chasing him, and then the suitor saw that the cat had changed into a man, and it was Eduardo. The suitor fled the scene in great haste, and discontinued his courtship of Eduardo's sister. This is background for a situation recounted by Armando and his interpretation of it. The suspected witch, Eduardo, was a friend of Armando's brother, and once brought some goat meat and a piece of roasted pig to Armando's house as a gift. Although Armando had heard stories about Eduardo's being a witch, he did not firmly believe them at that time, and besides he craved the pig meat and he knew Eduardo was a friend of his brother's, so he did not believe Eduardo would do anything to him. After he finished eating the 6 T h e idea that one becomes an aswang when he absorbs substance that becomes a bird or bird-like monster inside common feature of witchcraft beliefs in the Philippines. F o r see L y n c h , op. cit., pp. 4 1 0 - 4 1 1 ; Arens, op. cit., p. 4 5 5 ; and cit., p. 38.

a bird or him is a example, T a n , op.

CEBUANOSORCERY

7°

pig meat, he felt something funny inside him, "something flapping inside." The next day he had a headache, and he felt dizzy. Things he looked at went around in circles, he lost the ability to stand up, and he began to become confused in his speech. When he was approached by his sister, she appeared upsidedown to him, and he tried to throw her out the window because he thought she had turned into a witch. The mananambal who came to treat Armando said that his patient had begun to lose his senses, and was talking of nonsensical things, singing songs, delivering speeches in English and Cebuano, even saying that he would go to the moon. Armando was treated with prayers and incantations for five days by the mananambal, who said that Armando kept flapping his arms like the wings of a bird, and that he (the mananambal) would speak silent incantations and blow them into the armpits of the patient to "cripple the wings of the bird." After being treated by the mananambal for five days, Armando said he defecated a small, dead animal that looked like a lizard, and following this he felt better and soon recovered. Armando is the only informant who told me about his experience when he thought he had been a victim of salab, and his and the mananambal's accounts provide an interesting example of how relevant symptoms may appear and be diagnosed according to folk medical beliefs about sorcery and witchcraft, a point to which we will return later. Although an aswang may practice salab simply out of malevolence or caprice, it becomes imperative for him, on the verge of death, to pass on his power to someone else. Until he does, he suffers torture without the release of death, 6 an assurance that witchcraft will be perpetuated. It is said that before death an aswang will try to transfer his power to one of his children or to someone else in his family. If a dying aswang has been unable to convey his power to a successor, and if someone who sees the witch suffering approaches him in pity and is touched by the witch, a new aswang will be created as the old one dies. While I was in Cebu City, it was rumored that a nurse in one of the hospitals had become an aswang when an old woman passed the power to her before expiring. It is even said that if an aswang 8

The same idea can be found in Tan, ibid., p. 22.

WITCHES before he dies is unable to find a person who will receive his power, he can give it to a dog or cat, which then becomes an aswang. I was told of one dying aswang who touched a cat which was thrown in the room, and the neighbors subsequently killed the cat after it began to attack people. THE

BUYAGAN

OR

USIKAN

A different order of witch from the aswang is the buyagan or usikan, who inflicts a curse on his victim through words which are usually spoken but which may be only thought and unsaid. The curse is called buyag, and the term buyagan is used in Cebu City for the witch who gives the curse. However, the word usikan is employed for this type of witch in parts of Negros Oriental, and the same term is also used in Cebu City for the sorcerer who practices usik? This overlap in terminology is not difficult to understand, since both the usikan who is a sorcerer and the usikan who is a witch can send objects into the bodies of their victims; however, in the case of the former this is done through magical procedures that are learned, whereas the foreign objects intruded into someone by a usikan who is a witch objectify a curse that stems from qualities inherent in the witch, A buyagan may attack someone out of malice, as in the following case. Luz, a dressmaker, had a chronic redness and scaling of the scalp which she believed was the result of the buyag of a witch. Years before a girl with short hair who Luz indicated had homosexual intentions had approached Luz and asked her if Luz would allow her to cut her hair the same way. Luz refused, and within a few hours Luz had developed a severe headache. This lasted for

two months, and finally Luz was treated by a mananambal who told her that there was a girl in love with her who wanted Luz to

7 Materials in Francisco Aparele, "The Care of the Sick and the Burial of the Dead in the Rural Areas of Bohol and Their Educational Implications" (M.A. thesis on file at San Carlos University, Cebu City, Philippines, i960), pp. 26-27, show that the terms buyagan and usikan are employed in the same fashion among Cebuanos of Bohol island as they are in Cebu City.

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get her hair cut. After treatment by the mananambal, Luz's headache disappeared, but her hair began to behave strangely, matting in such a way that she could not comb it. Finally, her husband cut her hair, after which her scalp felt "starchy," and the skin broke. She had had trouble with her scalp ever since. Although she attributed this to the curse of the girl, she was afraid to go to see the girl about it because "she might have added more." In this case, the curse presumably was precipitated by antagonism directed at the victim by a buyagan. However, in many instances, buyag is thought of as emanating from good will rather than ill will, and it is usually believed that the curse is carried by a compliment rather than an imprecation. Children are particularly subject to the praise of a buyagan, with damaging results. For example, I was told of a young boy who, on his way to school, encountered a strange woman whom he had never seen before. The woman said to him, "You are handsome. You will grow up to be a big, handsome fellow." After the boy returned home, he felt itchy all over, his skin turned red, and he became seriously ill. It was believed that the woman had given him buyag. In another case, I saw a mananambal treating an infant whose skin around the penis was irritated. According to the mananambal, a buyagan had made the comment that although the boy was still only an infant, he already had a large organ, and, the mananambal said, wherever the buyagan directs his remarks, "there the buyag will stick." The words of the buyagan can harm not only people but any living thing. Plants or animals which are admired by a buyagan may sicken and die as a result. A woman who was dependent on tomatoes as a cash crop guarded her fields by magical means against buyag, and she said that if someone admires tomatoes on the stalk, "It is not good." Another informant told me that a known buyagan had once visited him and commented how big and stout several trees in the yard were. Subsequently, he said, these trees withered and died. Although only a buyagan can disseminate buyag on his own, it is thought that any person can inadvertently be an instrument of buyag if he happens to say something flatter-

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ing about someone while a spirit is at hand, and the spirit "seconds" the compliment. Because of this, people who believe in the existence or possibility of buyag often respond to a compliment by saying, "pwira buyag" ("go away, buyag"), or simply "buyag," as an antidote to a possible curse, even if they have no suspicion that the person who flattered them is a witch. Often this is done in a jesting manner, but this is by no means always the case. For example, I was witness to an incident at a mananambal's when some patients were waiting to be treated, one of them with her little boy. Another woman looked at the boy and said to his mother, "You have a healthy boy. He is stout and has a round face." The mother was obviously annoyed when she responded, "Buyag." An individual who is a dangerous buyagan is supposed to have a dark tongue, and according to some informants when a buyagan loses his teeth he also loses the ability to transmit his curse. One informant said that if a child is born with teeth, this is a sign that he will be a buyagan. The special power of the buyagan may be hereditary, or it may be a consequence of contamination by someone else who is a buyagan. Supposedly most individuals who are cursed by a buyagan do not as a result become witches themselves, but in some instances this can happen. The following is a case in point. The woman discussed is the only individual I was able to interview who believed she was a buyagan, a view shared by others. (I never talked with anyone who admitted to being an aswang.) As this informant's story unfolded, it offered some opportunity for an appreciation of how it feels to accept a belief in the reality of witches and then, involuntarily, to find oneself to be a witch. The case also is a vivid example of the power which social and cultural influences can exert over the behavior of the individual. One morning I was interviewing a mananambal in the presence of an old woman, and the mananambal said the old woman's daughter was a buyagan. I said I had never talked with a buyagan, and I asked whether it might be possible to meet this one. The mananambal and the old woman were

74

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cooperative, and she went to a nearby house to persuade daughter to talk to me. T h e daughter, whom I shall Paulina, proved to be an attractive woman of 47 who married and had completed three grades of school. This her story.

her call was was

One day when she was 16 years old she was sent by her mother to purchase some rice, and on the way she encountered a man selling fish. Paulina said this man was known as a very powerful buyagan. "He could even split a stone with his words," she said. This man asked Paulina who she was, and she identified her parents for him. The man then said, "So Pedro has a big child and a beautiful one." Paulina said that right after this she felt weak, and when she reached home she lay down. She said that her bones felt as if they were dislocated, and that she had a hard time breathing. " I did not feel as if I could reach the next day," she said. Her mother began questioning her, asking whether she had met someone on the way, and she recalled the incident with the old man. Her mother asked her to describe the old man, and when she did, her mother ran out, confronted the old man, and insisted that he come to the house immediately. The old man then treated Paulina with tutoh, wherein a buyagan chews certain ingredients, in this case betel and ginger, and spits them on the person he has cursed. This is supposed to be the most efficacious treatment for buyag, and Paulina said that after the old man did this she immediately felt better and rapidly recovered. According to Paulina, this was her only contact with the old man. A few months after this incident, parents started coming to her house with their sick children who they claimed had been victimized by her, and they asked her to do tutoh for the children. Paulina said she denied she was a buyagan, but the parents were very insistent. She said that when these first people approached her for tutoh, she was very reluctant to do it, but after she discovered that she could cure people of buyag, she was willing to perform tutoh. Paulina said that when she found out she was a buyagan, " I t changed my way of thinking." Prior to that time, she said, she had been unrestrained in her conversation, free with compliments. After she became identified as a buyagan, she said she became much more guarded in her speech, and from then on she never offered compliments. Sometimes, Paulina said, she found herself thinking a child was pretty, but she kept silent about it. Even such thoughts of a buyagan, Paulina said, could project buyag, and if this happened, it was more dangerous because the parents

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75

could not pinpoint the witch who had cursed their child and therefore would be less likely to go to the best source for treatment of the buyag. After telling me that buyag could be given with words of anger or criticism as well as compliments, Paulina immediately emphasized her good relations with her neighbors. She said that she never quarreled with them, that she "always will greet them with a smile," and she invited me to check with them to see if this were not the case.

WITCHCRAFT,

SORCERY AND SOCIAL

RELATIONS

Considering the touchy circumstances in which she finds herself, it is not difficult to see why Paulina stresses her good relations with her neighbors, and I have no reason to doubt that her description of the situation was accurate. The mananambal who introduced me to Paulina had been a reliable informant of mine for some time. In addition to being a mananambal, he was the neighborhood barber, and he and his wife told me when Paulina was not present that she did not have trouble with her neighbors. The individual believed to be a buyagan may, because of that, have a delicate status in his community. However, since many illnesses attributed to him seem to be skin ailments that are not too serious, and also because the buyagan often is thought of as a witch who does not intend harm but is as much a victim of witchcraft as those he makes sick, the buyagan may be viewed with some tolerance by others. At least the buyagan need not be perceived as an enemy of his victim, and the attribution of an illness to the curse of a buyagan does not necessarily evoke serious hostility against him so long as he does not appear to be deliberately attempting to injure others. Reaction to someone believed to be an aswang is apt to be more intense and hostile due to the extremely aberrant characteristics ascribed to this type of witch, and the fact that the aswang is more likely to be conceived of as inherently evil than the buyagan is. However, like the buyagan, the aswang need not have a grievance against the person he bewitches, and this has an important bearing on

76

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the fact that social conflict is more frequently associated with Cebuano sorcery than with witchcraft. As will be seen from later case materials on sorcery, when an individual believes he has been sorcerized, he tends to attribute his illness to the actions of someone who has been alienated from him as a result of social circumstances. As far as he is concerned, the assault against him may be completely unjustified, but nevertheless it is an understandable consequence of a disagreement he has had with a sorcerer or his client, or of some other social situation through which the instigator of the attack against him has become his enemy. For the sorcery victim, motivation for the attack is a significant element in the causality of the illness, and that motivation stems from an enmity which he has incurred in social relations. In contrast, the motivation of the witch and the relationship between the witch and his victim may be irrelevant to the damage the former causes the latter. In the case of the buyagan, the harm he inflicts upon his victim is frequently a mockery of his good intentions, and whereas the antagonism a witch feels for his victim may provoke an attack by the witch, it is not necessary to look for such antagonism to explain bewitchery. Ultimately the source of the trouble is in the witch, regardless of what happens to him externally in his relations with others. In contrast, in a sorcery case social discord is usually the heart of the matter. This is reflected in the dictum that sorcery will not work unless the victim is guilty of wrong-doing against the sorcerer or his client. On the other hand, the effectiveness of witchcraft is not thought to be contingent on social considerations. The greater pertinence of specific social antagonisms to sorcery than to witchcraft is also demonstrated in the identification of sorcerers and witches. Most informants who believed they had been sorcerized spoke of actual adversaries who they thought had sponsored or carried out attacks against them. Witches, in contrast, were much less frequently identified as known persons with known animus against their victims. Often in stories about them, witches

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77

are anonymous and without previous connection with their victims, appearing as strangers (such as the woman mentioned previously who admired a boy just before he became ill) or as animals unidentified with their human form (such as a crow who once flew into an informant's house "murmuring" and was regarded as an aswang whose effect was soon manifested when the informant's son grew ill within a few hours). Let it be emphasized that these distinctions between sorcery and witchcraft in their Cebuano setting are not absolute. Witches can act because they are socially provoked, and sorcerers or their clients can be regarded as intrinsically wicked. But the evil of the witch assumes the form of an aberrant power that often is activated for no reason other than because it exists, whereas when the wickedness of the sorcerer or his client is expressed in sorcery this is usually because of a social stimulus, dissension between the instigator of the attack and the object of the attack. The aswang resembles some witches elsewhere whose behavior in certain respects antithesizes or inverts normal behavior in the societies where they are found. 8 Illustrations of this inversion appear at several points in the cases discussed previously: the female aswang who exposed her genitals in a society which emphasizes female modesty; the girl who was perceived by her brother to be upside-down, and thereupon was thought to be a witch. This principle of inverted behavior is exemplified in a range of aswang characteristics. The aswang flies; ordinary human beings are grounded. The aswang eats human flesh; ordinary men are repelled by the idea. The aswang becomes an animal; ordinary men define their humanity in contrast to the behavior of animals. The aswang is nonselective in his reactions to people—he may attack a stranger or neighbor, friend or foe alike; the ordinary 8 For example, see T . O. Beidelman, "Witchcraft in Ukaguru," and E. H. Winter, "The Enemy Within: Amba Witchcraft and Sociological Theory," both in Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa, eds. John Middleton and E. H. Winter (New York: Praeger, 1963), pp. 67 and 292-293, respectively.

78

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man is highly selective in his relations with others—he makes fundamental distinctions between friends and enemies, and his obligations to those with whom he has special ties are basic determinants of his behavior. As reversals of moral behavior, actions of the aswang are evil. But they are reversals not only of moral behavior; they often are reversals of understandable social behavior as well, and in this respect they differ from sorcery. A sorcery attack may be condemned as immoral, but socially it is explicable, perhaps as an act of vengeance or an effort to eliminate a rival. However, there is no way of explaining an indiscriminate act of evil by an aswang, except as a manifestation of evil per se. In contrast to the aswang, the buyagan does not necessarily have evil intentions, and except for the power to curse, usually by means of a compliment, the buyagan is an ordinary human being. It is helpful to examine briefly this association of curse and compliment against the background of certain broader beliefs in Philippine society. Lynch, in a paper on values of the 80 percent of lowland Filipinos who live in small rural settlements, 9 discusses two Filipino beliefs as follows: A. Good is limited—one individual or segment cannot advance except at the expense of another, since there is only one source of good common to all. This belief, found in many societies, is the basis of the common human failing of envy. B. Success is undeserved—to claim success as a personal achievement, to take pride in it, or to refuse to share it with others is to make oneself not only undeserving of good luck (which everyone is) but positively deserving of failure. Sharing of success, and ascribing it to luck or fate, serve to avert the envy of those who have been "deprived" by the success of the lucky person. This behavior is also an assurance that the good luck will not be withdrawn from the recipient of the windfall because of the latter's having attributed his success to personal effort or merit.10 ' Lynch makes a distinction between the values of these Filipinos and those who are "urban, well-educated and economically secure." 10 Frank Lynch, "Lowland Philippine Values: Social Acceptance" in Proceedings of the Fourth Annual Baguio Religious Acculturation Conference ( 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 1 1 8 .

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79

Good fortune, then, is a tremulous thing, vulnerable to envy and not to be flaunted. Anxiety about envy, a characteristic of Cebuano society that will be examined more fully later, finds expression in beliefs about the buyagan, for where there is admiration, there also may be envy, 11 just as the compliment of the buyagan is coupled with his curse. To attract admiration is to risk attracting envy; to attract the compliment of the buyagan is to attract his curse which turns good fortune to bad. The buyagan may not be known as a particularly envious or resentful person, and he may be a stranger whose curse is inflicted in a casual encounter. In other words, his personality and personal involvement with the victim are not necessarily relevant to the damage the buyagan does. In essence, he is a carrier of the blight of envy, which may be attracted by anyone's good fortune, and which is epitomized in the buyagan's curse, not his character. To summarize, as representations of wanton evil and of the danger of envy, the witchcraft of the aswang and of the buyagan may be asserted regardless of the relationship between the witch and his victim, and Cebuanos are not particularly inclined to think of social difficulties when accounting for the occurrence of witchcraft. Sorcery, on the other hand, is preeminently associated with social conflict and is thereby more reflective of divisive issues in Cebuano society. u For a discussion of this point, see George M. Foster, "Cultural Responses to Expressions of Envy in Tzintzuntzan," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, Vol. 21 ( 1 9 6 5 ) , pp. 2 4 - 2 5 .

5 The Medical Background of Sorcery

S

ORCERY is a social phenomenon, but it is a medical phenomenon as well. Since an effective sorcery attack is "known" by the illness of the victim, sorcery is significantly connected with the prevention, diagnosis, and treatment of illness. Two medical systems compete in Cebuano society: modern, scientific medicine, and folk medicine. Sorcery is one of the causes of illness according to folk medical etiology, whereas modern medicine does not attribute illness to magic. However, since Cebuanos have a choice between folk medicine and modern medicine, and since that choice may crucially affect, and be affected by, suspicions of sorcery, the competition between folk medicine and modern medicine in Cebuano society will be fully considered in this chapter. However, first we begin with a discussion of the folk medical system. THE

FOLK

MEDICAL

SYSTEM

Cebuano folk medicine is extremely complex, rich in various concepts, diagnoses, and treatments of disease. T o do the 80

MEDICAL

BACKGROUND

8 i

folk medical system justice in its own right would require a major treatment that is far beyond the scope of this work. Under the circumstances, we will limit ourselves to a brief summary that will indicate something of the general character of folk medicine and its relationship to sorcery. As indicated in Chapter 2 there are three medical roles in the Cebuano folk medical system. They may be assumed by either men or women, and the same individual may combine two or all of them in his practice. The masseur (manghihilot) primarily treats what are diagnosed as bone dislocations and fractures, but he may minister to other ailments as well, such as respiratory illnesses, swollen lymph nodes, or certain gastric and nervous disorders called kabuhi. (A Filipino physician identifies the kabuhi syndrome as gastro-intestinal neurosis.) 1 The manghihilot also massages the abdomen of expectant mothers to make sure that the fetus is properly placed in the womb. The midwife (mananabang) is concerned with the actual act of delivery, as well as with the pre- and postnatal problems. The mananambal is a general healer, and, as the practitioner who handles illnesses imputed to sorcery, he will be the focus of our discussion of folk medicine. The great variety of illnesses treated by mananambal fall into two broad categories. First, there are those maladies which are regarded as "natural," attributed to physical or psychic phenomena of the everyday world and not initiated by any spiritual being, sorcerer, or witch. In folk medical etiology, the causes of natural ailments may include change or irregularity in habits; faulty diet; fatigue; exposure to wind, cold, or heat; fright; worry; relapses; and complications or vulnerability arising from previous ailments. In the second category of illnesses are those which are regarded as "not natural" in provenance. These may be ascribed to sorcery, witchcraft, possessive or neglected ancestral spirits, other dangerous spirits outside the pale of God, and gaba, a curse 1 Nestor R. Canoy, "Gastro-Intestinal Neurosis," Journal of the Philippine Medical Association, Vol. 36 (i960), pp. 5 0 3 - 5 1 2 .

CEBUANOSORCERY

that comes from God as a punishment for certain moral offenses, especially disrespect for parents and other elders or abuse of natural resources. For diagnosis of illness, mananambal depend on diverse sources of information. Symptoms of patients—such as pain, lesions, swelling, or fever—are primary clues. For most mananambal, the pulse of the patient is a key sign of his condition. In the words of one practitioner, "The pulse is the best spot to tell the illness of the patient because it is an outlet, a 'substation' of the heart. If the pulse lies, then the heart lies." The character of the pulse is an important criterion for determining whether an illness is natural or supernatural, since it is widely believed that if a patient has symptoms which ordinarily are accompanied by an abnormal pulse, and if his pulse instead is normal, this is an indication that his illness is not natural. In addition to present symptoms of the patient, knowledge of his medical history and experiences he has had which may be relevant to the inception of his illness can be of great diagnostic value to the mananambal. But whereas the diagnosis of the mananambal may be based on manifestations of illness in his patient or on the background of illness in his patient, the mananambal's knowledge about his patient's condition often is said to come from spirits, saints, or God, whom he consults about the case. Sometimes the mananambal gains this information through devices that are used to secure responses from supernatural sources to questions the mananambal asks about his patient's illness. To cite just one example, a mananambal embeds the tip of a large pair of scissors in a winnower, called a nigo, and he secures the scissors with string. He and another individual stand on either side of the winnower, and each holds a finger under one of the handle loops of the scissors, so that the winnower is suspended on their fingers. The mananambal then asks questions about his patient's illness, such as, "Is the illness natural?" If the answer is "no," the winnower remains in the same position; if the answer is "yes," the winnower turns. Other mananambal do not depend on instru-

MEDICAL

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83

ments to transmit diagnoses from spiritual sources; they "hear" what they need to know directly from these sources. For instance, one mananambal said he puts his hand on a new patient's head, and a voice whispers in his right ear informing him what the illness is. Information from spiritual sources may include prognosis as well as diagnosis. One mananambal said that his mentor, St. Joseph, always tells him when it is time for a patient to die. Another mananambal said he burns candles when he prays in the night for his patients, and if the candle burnt for a particular patient droops, or if the flame decidedly flickers, this means the patient will die. Mananambal may utilize a wide variety of treatments for their patients, including decoctions, poultices, fumigation, anointing, cupping, prayers, incantations, and diverse magical procedures. Most mananambal are herbalists, and the pharmacopoeia of Cebuano folk medicine contains a great number of medicinal plants. Such plants are employed primarily for the treatment of what are regarded as natural malfunctions, but some of them may also be used, in a magical context, for the treatment of supernatural maladies. Thus, there are mananambal who collect plants and other ingredients during Holy Week, and these are mixed with coconut oil on Good Friday. Such "sacred" medicinal oils, usually rubbed on the patient but at times prescribed in small amounts for internal use, may be employed by some mananambal for the treatment of virtually any illness; these sacred oils are among the most important medicines for healing illnesses diagnosed as supernatural. Illnesses attributed to sorcery may be treated with prayers and incantations, sacred medicinal oils, and a variety of other means, some of which are applicable to a range of illnesses (for example, palina, a fumigation technique, is designed to purge the patient's body of foreign objects, regardless of whether they were introduced there by spirits, witches, or sorcerers), whereas others are specific for maladies produced by certain types of sorcery. To illustrate, the feces of tawak,

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an insect used in barang, are supposed to be efficacious for the treatment of illnesses attributable to that form of sorcery. Or, to take another example, for illnesses caused by paktol, in which nails are pushed into a doll representing the victim, the patient drinks water which has been boiled with nails in it. Patients go to mananambal not only for the treatment of illness but for its prevention as well, and some mananambal provide amulets for those who wish to safeguard themselves against afflictions that might come from spirits, witches, or sorcerers. Things considered magical or holy, such as mutya, stones thought to possess miraculous properties, or fragments of religious objects secreted from churches (e.g., a chip from an altar or threads from vestments of a priest), are sewn in small pouches or put in miniature bottles filled with coconut oil. These amulets, called sumpa, are generally secured from mananambal and are among the most popular amulets in the area. From what has been said to this point, the prevalence of magico-religious elements in Cebuano folk medicine is obvious. This, however, is not to slight the importance of empirical knowledge and procedures in the folk medical system. Mananambal generally possess detailed information about folk disease categories. Empirical evidence of their patients' illnesses is examined in the light of this information when mananambal make diagnoses and prognoses or solicit them from their spiritual patrons, and the curing properties of medicinal plants are known and frequently relied upon in treatment. But often even what is seemingly only a direct physical treatment of illness is partly magical, and the mananambal may have acquired information about the treatment through mystical experiences. A mananambal may prescribe a relatively simple decoction for an illness, using leaves of a few plants. However, the leaves will have been picked from the east side of plants because, as mentioned previously, that is the direction in which the sun rises. And the prescription itself, although it might contain only leaves of plants that are

ABOVE. A bottle containing parts of medicinal plants, three crosses, and "sacred oil" used for curing. LEFT. A mananambal using an oracion (incantation) to treat an alleged victim of sorcery. BELOW. A mananambal rubbing roots along a rough surface to secure shavings that are used in medicinal decoctions.

A b a m b o o tube coninsects used in barang. B E I . O W . A nigo (winnower) used to secure information from supernatural sources about a patient's illness. T h e picture is posed, b u t the m a n on the right is a mananamhal. RIGHT.

taining

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85

commonly known in the area for their medicinal qualities, may have been "revealed" to the mananambal as an efficacious cure by his spiritual mentor in a dream or vision. In such cases, empirical knowledge is defined as divine knowledge, and the role of the mananambal in general is predicated upon divine sanction, as demonstrated in the special aid he derives from spiritual sources and the cures credited to him. Folk medical practice is culturally defined as a role of service, and the practitioner is not supposed to profit from the medical aid he offers. 2 It is often said that healing knowledge and power are conferred upon a practitioner by a spiritual mentor on the condition that he will use them only to help others and not for personal gain. However, if the practitioner is supposed to treat his patients for the sake of service rather than profit, the patient has the obligation to offer at least some token of gratitude to the practitioner, and this debt is given greater force by a folk medical belief that the medicine will not work unless something is given to the healer on behalf of the patient. 3 This payment is usually made in cash, although patients from rural areas sometimes bring farm produce to a practitioner instead. Some healers emphasize that their purpose in practicing medicine is not financial gain by avoiding any overt action to take money from their patients, and they will not accept money if it is put in their hands by patients. Their patients may leave money on a table or stuff it in the shirt pocket of the healer, who seemingly ignores the payment at the time, although he will not refuse it. Other healers are quite explicit in making it known to ' C f . Agaton P. Pal, " A Philippine Barrio," University of Manila Journal of East Asiatic Studies, V o l . 5 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , p. 433; Ethel Nurge, "Etiology of Illness in Guinhangdan," American Anthropologist, Vol. 60 ( 1 9 5 8 ) , p. 1167; Richard Arens, " T h e Tambalan and M i s Medical Practices in Leyte and Samar Islands, Philippines," The Philippine Journal of Science, V o l . 86 ( 1 9 5 8 ) , p. 121; and Robert A. Poison and Agaton P. Pal, The Status of Rural Life in the Dumaguete City Trade Area, Philippines 1952, Data Paper N o . 21, Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University ( 1 9 5 6 ) , p. 46. 3 C f . Poison and Pal, ibid, and Nurge, op. tit., p. 1167.

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their patients that they expect to be paid, and they show no hesitation in accepting money directly from their patients. In fact, regardless of the ideals of folk medical practice, it is often strongly commercialized, especially in Cebu City. M O D E R N M E D I C I N E A N D FOLK

MEDICINE

The growth of modern medicine in the Philippines was rapid after the American regime in the islands began, and the effects of this development are reflected in sharply reduced disease and death rates during the present century.4 Today modern medical facilities and personnel are found in all the provinces, there are medical schools, and the teaching of modern health practices is an important part of the public school curriculum. Sibulan has a rural health unit, with a physician, trained nurse, licensed midwife, and sanitation inspector, and there are hospitals and physicians in nearby Dumaguete City. Cebu City is a major center of modern medicine in the Philippines, and in i960 there were 19 hospitals or major clinics, 157 private physicians, 66 private nurses, 101 pharmacies, 184 pharmacists, 14 X-ray laboratories, and seven clinical laboratories in the city. 5 Modern medicine draws some patients from Sibulan, and it has a much more substantial following in Cebu City. Yet many patients still rely on folk healers, and households which utilize the services of physicians may seek help from folk healers as well. In Sibulan, a survey of one barrio showed that during 1958, of 47 households in which there had been illness in that year, 19 used folk medical treatments exclusively, 10 used modern medicine exclusively, and 18 used both folk medicine and modern medicine. Even in Cebu City, with its impressive concentration of 'John Donoghue, "Health and Sanitation," Area Handbook on the Philippines, The University of Chicago for the Human Relations Area Files, Vol. 3 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , pp. 1 2 2 0 - 1 2 2 1 . " Data secured from the Cebu City Health Department.

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modern medical resources, there is still a vigorous, competitive folk medical system which serves people in the metropolitan area and others who come to the city from other parts of the province as well as other islands. This persistence of folk medicine as an alternative to modern medicine is an important problem, but it would be beyond our considerations were it not fundamentally related to the continuation of sorcery in the area. For in numerous cases when a patient goes to a mananambal and accepts his diagnosis of the illness, the patient also accepts a designation of himself as a victim of sorcery; this does not happen when a patient accepts the diagnosis of a physician. Furthermore, when an individual becomes ill and he believes his condition is due to sorcery, he will go to a mananambal rather than a physician. This is less likely to happen, other things being equal, if the individual does not suspect that his illness is a result of sorcery. In other words, sorcery and folk medicine are mutually sustaining, and the folk medical system, which bears the responsibility for combating sorcery, actually helps perpetuate it by providing an etiology, diagnoses, and treatments that stimulate and confirm beliefs in magical causes of illness. Thus, the persistence of sorcery is directly linked to the persistence of folk medicine in its competition with modern medicine. Many therapeutic activities of folk medical practitioners in the Cebuano area, and in the Philippines as a whole, incur official disfavor of state and church, and professional medical organizations and individual physicians condemn much of folk medicine as superstition and quackery. Yet, although on the defensive, folk medicine survives and still retains considerable popular support. To understand the basis of this support, it is necessary to examine a number of relevant factors. W e begin with considerations which are not directly related to whether people believe modern medicine or folk medicine is more likely to cure them, but which can still influence their choice of therapy.

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GEOGRAPHICAL MEDICAL

ACCESSIBILITY

OF

FACILITIES

Overwhelmingly, modern medical resources of the Philippines are located in cities and towns. There are rural health clinics dispersed in the countryside, but they have small staffs, limited facilities, and often serve sizable areas. Therefore, for those in rural communities, comprising the majority of the Philippine population, it is generally more difficult to get to physicians than to folk medical practitioners, who are usually close at hand in rural barrios. In a survey conducted in 1958-1959 by Dr. Amanda V . Valenzuela of the Institute of Hygiene, University of the Philippines, and by me, a questionnaire was sent to physicians and other professional medical personnel who had graduated from the Institute and who were subsequently serving in public health units throughout the country. One of the questions asked was whether there were any difficulties in getting people to use modern medical facilities; 30 of the 106 respondents mentioned distance from and/or lack of transportation to such facilities as difficulties. Because of the extensive modern medical facilities in Cebu City, and Sibulan's proximity to the hospitals and physicians of Dumaguete City, the problem of physical access to medical facilities is less important in determining the choice between modern medicine and folk medicine in these communities, especially Cebu City, than it is in many other areas of the country. But in Cebu City there are outlying districts, rural in character, which are marginal to the urban heart of the community where modern medical facilities are concentrated, and for many of those in Sibulan who do not live adjoining or near the provincial highway which links Sibulan to Dumaguete City, a trip to the city is not an easy, commonplace venture. Poison and Pal, writing about the Dumaguete City trade area, which includes Sibulan, state that one of the conditions which discourages greater utilization of modern medicine by people of the area is that "transportation be-

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tween the trade center where modern medical facilities are available and some parts of the trade area is difficult and often dangerous for a patient." 6 The fact that folk medical practitioners are usually within easy reach and that often this is not true of physicians undoubtedly favors the practice of the former. However, the importance of this factor should not be overestimated in accounting for the perpetuation of folk medicine. Many patients seeking medical aid come to Cebu City from other communities, including hinterland barrios. Some of these patients go to physicians or hospitals for treatment, but others put themselves in the hands of mananambal of the city, and there is evidence to show that a higher proportion of the patients of Cebu City mananambal come from outside the city than is the case with patients who utilize modern medical services of the city. In 1963,1 made a survey of patients treated by three of the most popular mananambal in Cebu City. Each of the mananambal is located in a different part of the city, not far from the downtown district. While conducting the survey, I visited each of the mananambal on at least three different days of the week during the hours when patients visited; the total amount of time spent with the three mananambal combined amounted to 30 hours. A record was made of the age, sex, residence, and education of all patients treated by the mananambal during the hours in question. At the time the survey was made, I had worked with each of the mananambal for about eight months, and I was familiar with the patterns of their patients' visits; to my knowledge, no systematic biases were introduced into the sample. Data were recorded on 397 patients, of whom 204 (51 % ) resided outside Cebu City and 193 (49%) in Cebu City. In contrast, the majority of the patients of two of the most popular physicians in Cebu City, one a general practitioner and the other an eye, ear, nose, and throat specialist, apparently resided in the city. Random samples were taken of the case records of these physicians, 6

Poison and Pal, op. cit., p. 48.

CEBUANO

9o

SORCERY

and data were recorded on the residence of 483 of their patients, of whom 297 ( 6 2 % ) resided in C e b u City and 186 ( 3 8 % ) outside the city. It is quite common to find patients who travel for hours by bus or overnight by boat to be treated by C e b u City mananambal. In these instances, treatment from a mananambal is sought not because he is near, but because it is believed he may cure the patient. In other words, when the quest for health, or survival, is strong enough, it can lead across municipality and even provincial boundaries, and it can lead to distant mananambal as well as to distant physicians. O n e individual's feelings on this score were expressed by a man of 54 who was believed to be a sorcery victim. H e was a farmer from Bohol island, east of the island of Cebu. A t the time I met him, he had had his illness for three years, and he said that he had been treated by mananambal and physicians in Bohol and also at a hospital in C e b u City. N o w he had returned to C e b u City again and put himself in the care of a mananambal he had heard about in Bohol. H e said, "I am not ready to die yet, so I will try anything to recover from my illness."

ECONOMIC

ACCESSIBILITY

OF

MEDICAL

FACILITIES

In a developing society such as the Philippines, where cash income for much of the population is still meager, the cost of consultation and treatment can be a consideration in selecting folk rather than modern medical service. In the survey of Institute of Hygiene graduates discussed above, the main difficulty respondents saw in getting people to utilize modern medical facilities was the inability of many to afford the costs involved (this was mentioned by 83 of the 106 respondents). T h e fees of physicians, which usually run between three and five pesos a visit in C e b u City, contrast with the typical payments of 20, 30, or 50 centavos (there are 100 centavos to a peso) that are made per visit to many of the mananambal of the city. Hospital and clinical fees further

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increase the discrepancy between costs to patients of the two medical systems. In addition, the cost of drugs impedes the use of modern medicine by the poor. A mananambal's prescription often consists of nothing more than a decoction of leaves which are free for the picking, or which may be provided by the mananambal himself. Several patients of mananambal said they had first gone to physicians, but they found the cost of drugs prescribed prohibitive, and consequently decided to turn to a mananambal for treatment. Philippine folk medicine, however, is sustained by far more than the fees and drug costs of modern medicine. In the first place, there are free or minimal-cost modern medical services for the indigent, but many poorer patients treated by mananambal do not use these services, or, if they do use them, they subsequently or concurrently go to mananambal for treatment. Also, although on the basis of an overall comparison folk medical services are cheaper than those of modern medicine, in Cebu City the most popular mananambal are also the most expensive, and I have seen a patient pay a mananambal as much as 12 pesos for a single treatment, which is more than double the ordinary fee that would be paid a private physician. In addition, whereas patients of mananambal rarely have drug expenses (a few mananambal on occasion prescribe pharmaceuticals for their patients), they sometimes incur other expenses that they would not have under modern medical care, such as the cost of an amulet, which may be as high as 25 pesos, or the cost involved in having a special Mass recited for the soul of an ancestor whose spirit is said to be causing the illness of his descendant. Furthermore, whereas a greater proportion of the patients of mananambal, in contrast to physicians' patients, come from lower income groups, mananambal still attract a not inconsiderable number of patients from the middle-toupper economic range of the society. Evidently, in the light of these data, the economic factor has definite limitations as an explanation of the selection of medical services. I am inclined to agree with the judgment of Poison and Pal, who

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point out that although families with small incomes in the Dumaguete City area shudder at the prospect of medical bills of 50 to 100 pesos, they willingly pay for a burial ceremony and butcher a pig, carabao, or cow to feed guests attending prayers for the deceased. Poison and Pal conclude that "If they will come fully to accept the use of modern medical facilities, they will be as willing to spend money for a member of the family when he is sick as when he is dead." 7 Next we turn to another consideration which can affect the patient's selection of therapy, and in which, again, the issue is not whether the patient believes that one of the medical systems holds more promise of curing him than the other. THE R E L A T I O N S H I P B E T W E E N THE AND

THE

PRACTITIONER

PATIENT

Observers have noted in various societies that medical professionals of superior status often demonstrate a lack of understanding in dealing with patients of lower status, and that the latter show distrust of these practitioners. 8 T h e problem is pertinent to the competition between modern medicine and folk medicine for public support in the Philippines, since physicians generally are of a considerably higher status than the great majority of Filipinos. There are not comparable status distinctions between mananambal and most other Filipinos. Several responses in the survey of Institute of Hygiene graduates to the question about difficulties in getting people to use modern medical facilities indicate that problems of rapport between practitioner and patient may inhibit some persons from going or returning to modern medical practitioners. T o illustrate, one physician said, "They are very shy or ashamed to tell what they want." Another reIbid., pp. 48-49. George M. Foster, Problems in Intercultural Health Programs, Memorandum to the Committee on Preventive Medicine and Social Science Research, Social Science Research Council (1958), p. 25. 7

8

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93

spondent cited the "wrong approach of health personnel toward the public." Poison and Pal do not directly discuss the effects of status differences on medical practice in the Dumaguete area, but they do find the relationship between practitioner and patient more intimate in folk medicine than in modern medicine, and they see this as one of the reasons why modern medicine does not have a larger following in the area.9 A similar opinion is expressed by Arens with respect to the continued flourishing of folk medicine in the Philippine islands of Leyte and Samar, which he attributes in part to the "personal approach" of the folk healer, contrasted with the "cool professional attitude which often characterizes that of the doctor or health inspector. . . ." 1 0 Although there are indications that some patients may be diverted from modern medicine to folk medicine because of difficulties they experience or anticipate in contacts with physicians, it seems doubtful that the nature of the therapeutic relationship has a large effect on the perpetuation of folk medicine in the Cebuano area. Evidence from observations of folk medicine bears on this point. Two of the most successful mamnambal in Cebu City are frequently overbearing and harsh in their behavior toward their patients, particularly those of lower status who constitute the majority of their patients and who are most susceptible to social difficulties in therapeutic relationships with physicians. One of these mananambal often accuses individual patients of moral lapses (e.g., cohabitation without marriage or failure to attend church), and he vigorously rebukes them in front of other patients who are waiting to be treated. The humiliating situation in which this mananambal places his censured patients is particularly striking in view of Filipino hypersensitivity to criticism and personal embarrassment. The mananambal himself once told me that he may have gone too far in criticizing a certain patient, and that probably was the reason why the patient had never returned. However, if the mana• Poison and Pal, op. cit., p. 48. " A r e n s , op. cit., p. 1 2 1 .

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nambal loses patients in this fashion, he still retains an impressive following, including patients who have been reproached by him. The other mananambal frequently bullies her patients and is haughty and contentious in her relations with them. Yet, with a reputation for miraculous healing, she probably has more patients than any single practitioner in the city, physician or mananambal, treating as many as 75 to 100 persons in a single afternoon (by my count). Many of her patients travel hours to reach her, pay her more for treatments than they would pay a physician, and suffer verbal abuse from her as well. Hers is a dramatic demonstration that folk medicine does not require the geographical, economic, and social advantages we have discussed to survive in its competition with modern medicine. Even when these advantages exist, the fact that a mananambal is nearer, can be paid less, or seems more considerate than a physician is hardly in itself enough to bring patients to a mananambal if the patients do not believe they will, or might, be helped by the visit. Persistence of the folk medical system is rooted in this belief, which has the following cognitive supports. First, in some cases folk medical therapy can be legitimately successful. Professional medical opinion concerning folk medical practices was secured in the survey of Institute of Hygiene graduates discussed previously. Respondents, most of whom were in active competition with folk medical practitioners, were asked whether there were any traditional medicines and therapy in their areas which were effective. Fifty-six percent of the 106 replies were affirmative, with respondents specifying therapies and the conditions they were used to treat (for example, decoctions of leaves of the banaba tree [Lagerstroemia speciosa] as a diuretic, and the bark of the dita tree [Alstonia macrophylla] for malaria; some respondents also thought folk treatments could be psychologically therapeutic in certain cases). Second, in certain cases, folk medicine may be given credit for cures it does not effect. Two ambiguous cognitive situations lend themselves to such misinterpretations.

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95

A. Most diseases eventually end in spontaneous self-recovery. 11 In cases where this is so and the patient has been under the care of a mananambal, a causal relationship may be ascribed to what is actually only a fortuitous association between treatment and recovery. B. In numerous cases, a patient will go to both physicians and folk medical practitioners for treatment during the course of a single illness. His treatments by a physician and a mananambal may be only a day, even an hour apart, and he may alternate between folk medicine and modern medicine over a considerable period of time until the outcome of his illness is resolved. Under these circumstances, if modern medicine is effective and folk medicine is not, the cure may still be attributed to the latter. Thus, unrecognized successes of modern medicine can help perpetuate the folk medical system. Third, traditional medical knowledge helps sustain belief in the folk medical system. Thus far we have been concerned with cognitive supports of folk medicine that are based on direct experience, and we have centered our attention on stimuli external to the observer. But these stimuli are not the only influences on what the observer perceives. His view of medical events is also shaped by the medical knowledge he has assimilated from his culture, information about the etiology, nature, and appropriate treatment of disease, and for most Cebuanos this is predominantly folk medical knowledge. A few Western medical terms, such as cancer and T B , have become fairly widely established in the medical vocabulary of Cebuanos, but, except for a minority who have gone well beyond an elementary school education, most Cebuanos have little or no knowledge of modern medical theories of disease and treatment. Moreover, the little knowledge that does filter through to them may be transformed as it is assimilated into folk medical knowledge. For example, one informant, in discussing takod sa ongo, the process by which a 11 William S. Beck, Modern Science and the Nature of Life (London, Reading, and Fakenham: Penguin, 1961), p. 96.

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witch transfers his power to a person by touching him, said that if the witch and his victim are different blood types, the victim will become insane and die; if they have the same blood type, the victim will become a witch. Another informant said that a mananambal could only be effective if he and the patient had the same blood type. The fact that most Cebuanos have little comprehension of modern medical theories of disease and its treatment does not prevent them from seeking therapy from physicians. Many go to physicians not because of an understanding of what modern medicine is, but because of an appreciation of what it can do, on the basis of demonstrated results. The opportunity for such appreciation, however, is far more restricted than it might be were the signs of illness not so frequently interpreted in terms of folk medical knowledge. Thus, cases of illness which are thought to be supernatural in origin ipso facto fall under the jurisdiction of the mananambal. A number of similar incidents occurred while I watched patients being treated by mananambal for illnesses diagnosed as induced by spirits. When I asked patients whether they had been to a doctor for the illness, they replied that the doctors did not know how to cure this kind of illness. Furthermore, according to folk medical belief, not only is modern medicine ineffective against supernatural maladies, it is likely to exacerbate them. Even the germ theory of disease has been adapted to the folk medical dichotomy between natural and supernatural causes of illness. Several mananambal differentiated between germs (kagaw) which are natural and those which are supernatural, with the latter immune to modern medicine. It is not only concepts of supernatural diseases that support the folk medical system; folk concepts of natural diseases can also predispose patients who accept them to utilize the services of a folk practitioner. To illustrate, if an American child wakes in the morning with a running nose, cough, and fever, its mother will probably think it has a respiratory infection and seek a physician's services. Many a Cebuano

MEDICAL

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97

mother whose child displays comparable symptoms is likely to think that the child has piang and will take the child for a massage by a manghihilot. (Piang is a malady of the bone—a fracture, curvature, or dislocation. When the term is applied to a syndrome of respiratory symptoms in a child, it is believed that the child fell on its chest, pushing in or curving the soft bones of the rib cage, which adversely affects the lungs and produces such symptoms as coughing and chest pains. 12 The massage of the manghihilot is designed to restore the rib cage to its normal shape.) If the child with piang does not improve under the manghihilot's care, its mother may take it to a physician. One physician, a pediatrician, said that when she gets such a case she discusses the illness with the mother in terms of modern medical knowledge. However, if the child recovers under her care, the mother may well say, "Oh, then it was not piang after all." In other words, a modern medical success may eliminate a specific case of illness originally diagnosed according to a folk disease category, but it does not necessarily eliminate from the observer's mind the folk disease category which possibly will be used as a basis for interpreting symptoms in the future. This is true not only with respect to piang, but to folk disease categories in general, including sorcery. The importance of directly observable results in the competition between modern medicine and folk medicine should not, however, be overlooked. Observers working in areas other than the Philippines have made the point that, regardless of folk medical beliefs, modern medical practices will be utilized if there is an opportunity to judge their effectiveness on an empirical basis.13 Medical behavior in the Philippines 12

Since small children frequently fall, there is usually a fall to link to the illness; even if no fall is observed, the association can still be made. For example, a mother brought a small child with fever to a mananambal. "Did he fall?" the mananamhal asked. " I don't know," the mother replied. "Where were you?" the mananambal asked. " C h a r l e s J . Erasmus, "Changing Folk Beliefs and the Relativity of Empirical Knowledge," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, Vol. 8 ( 1 9 5 2 ) , pp. 4 1 8 - 4 1 9 , and Ozzie G . Simmons, "Popular and Modern Medicine in Mestizo Communities of Coastal Peru and Chile," The

9

8

CEBUANO

SORCERY

bears this out. A physician in Dumaguete City who has a number of patients in Sibulan told me that modern medicine had made large gains in the area since the development and employment of antibiotics, inasmuch as people can now see many cases in which striking cures or improvements are effected overnight. In this connection, when I asked informants in a rural barrio of Sibulan why they had gone to physicians rather than mananamhal for treatment of certain illnesses, several replied "the cure is quick" or "the medicine is fast." If the importance of empirical evidence in the competition between modern medicine and folk medicine is demonstrated by the way in which physicians gain patients, this importance is also indicated by circumstances in which physicians lose patients to mananambal. To illustrate, in 13 cases where a patient had been to a physician before being treated for the same illness by a mananambal who made a diagnosis of sorcery, I was able to secure a record of the professional medical diagnosis by the physician. In one case the diagnosis was not definitive. The symptoms were epigastric pain and vomiting; X rays were taken of the gastro-intestinal tract and gall bladder; and the patient was given anti-spasmodics and tranquilizers. Diagnoses in the other 12 cases are set forth in Table 2. In most of these cases, the diagnosed maladies are often refractory or completely unresponsive to modern mediJournal of American Folklore, Vol. 68 ( 1 9 5 5 ) , p. 7 1 . Another viewpoint, that of Hsu, emphasizes the central importance of cultural conditioning rather than empirical observation in determining popular reactions to scientific medicine and science in general. Hsu, relating his argument to his study of medical behavior in a community in southwest China that underwent a cholera epidemic during World War II, asserts that "man fails to differentiate between magic and science not because he lacks any power of rationality, but because his behavior in general is dictated by faith generated out of the pattern of his culture. If this pattern is dominated by science, man's behavior will be scienceoriented. If it has magic as a chief ingredient, his behavior will be magicoriented." (Francis L. K. Hsu, Religion, Science and Human Crisis [London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1952], p. 8.) For a critique of this position, see Charles J. Erasmus, Man Takes Control (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1 9 6 1 ) , pp. 33-38.

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M E D I C A L

99

cine. Apropos of the frequency of cancer diagnoses in these cases, one mananamhal says "cancer, barang" when treating some patients. Asked about this, she replied, " W h a t the doctors call cancer, I call barang." TABLE 2 PROFESSIONAL M E D I C A L DIAGNOSIS OF SORCERY

Diagnosis Cancer Peptic Ulcer Sinusitis and Retinitis Glaucoma Pneumonia Liver Cirrhosis Intestinal Ascariasis (Roundworms) Total

CASES

Number of Cases 5

2

1 1 1

1 1 12

Although results of modern medical therapy that have been directly observed may exercise a decisive influence on future choice of therapy, the fact that such results are susceptible to diverse interpretations brings us back to the importance of general medical knowledge in the contemporary Cebuano medical scene. T h e consequences of treatment may be readily apparent, but they also may be obscure or not up to people's expectations. T o illustrate, the same physician who told me about the increased following won by modern medicine in rural Negros after the introduction of antibiotics also said that in cases where it might take a week or more for the effects of therapy to become apparent, the patient may seek care from a mananambal only a day or two after treatment by a physician. This indicates that if modern medicine wins patients on the basis of their expectation that it will work quickly if it is effective, it can lose them for the same reason. Ordinarily, a patient in the Philippines, or in any other society, is not in a position to understand precisely the intrica-

10 0

CEBUANOSORCERY

ties involved in the relationship between treatment and illness. In some cases, the results of treatment may appear to speak for themselves; however, if they do not, or if they do and the signs are open to misinterpretation, general medical knowledge possessed by the patient that might be applicable to his case assumes a greater significance in his judgment of the merit of a particular treatment. Given the highly technical nature of much of the specialist's modern medical knowledge, influence of that knowledge on cognition in the society at large is related to formal education and literacy. In general, education better enables the public to become conversant with nontechnical versions of expert knowledge of modern medicine, as well as to accept such knowledge as the appropriate basis for medical therapy. O n the basis of what has been said, formal education should be related to the utilization of modern medicine in the Philippines, and data both from Cebu City and from Sibulan and immediately adjacent areas indicate that education can have a significant influence on the choice between folk medicine and modern medicine. In Cebu City, two sets of patients were compared with respect to education. One set of patients consisted of all those of school age (six years old and above) who were in the sample of patients of the three mananambal mentioned previously. T h e other set of patients consisted of all those of school age who were seen in the office hours during two days by a physician who is one of the most popular general practitioners of the city and all those of school age who were seen during four days by physicians of the Cebu Skin C l i n i c . " T h e data, set forth in Table 3, show that, on the whole, 14 This clinic was selected because many of the cases treated by mananambal are dermatological. Furthermore, consultation at the clinic is free, although patients may have to purchase medicine, and this helped minimize differences in medical costs as a possible factor in the selection of practitioners in the cases represented in the table. The private physician whose 72 patients were combined with the 88 of the clinic in the analysis does charge fees, but the three mananambal are among the most expensive in the city.

MEDICAL

BACKGROUND

i 0 1

the level of education of the physicians' patients is higher than that of patients of the mananambal. This is consistent with information from the Dumaguete City trade area, which includes Sibulan, where Poison and Pal found that the higher the education of the head of the family, the more likely the family was to use modern medical facilities.15 TABLE

3

COMPARISON OF THE EDUCATION OF P A T I E N T S OF W I T H T H O S E OF PHYSICIANS IN C E B U

Education • 0 - 4 Grades 5-7 Grades High School College Total

Patients of Mananambal

Percentage

214 57 41 327

MANANAMBAL

CITY

Patients of Physicians

65

38 39 40

5 100

43 160

Percentage 24 24 2 5 27 100

* Refers to the level of school attended, but not necessarily completed.

The Cebu City data show that education does not necessarily cancel reliance on folk medicine, since some who attended high school and college were among the patients of the mananambal, although persons in these categories comprised a much smaller proportion of the mananambal's patients than of the physicians' patients. In this respect, the data conform with my observations of medical belief and behavior in Cebuano society. Formal education by no means automatically eliminates belief in folk medical knowledge. Such knowledge is tenacious, rooted in certain aspects of religion and traditional Cebuano beliefs about the nature of man and the universe, and with cognitive protection provided by certain types of everyday medical experience that we have discussed. However, if formal education does not necessarily erase acceptance of folk medical knowledge, it does increase the frequency with which such knowledge is ques" Poison and Pal, op. cit., p. 23.

10 2

C E B UANO

SORCERY

tioned, doubted, or rejected, as well as receptivity to modern medical knowledge, and this in turn increases the likelihood that those afflicted with illness will select a physician rather than a mananambal. Another consequence of education works to the same effect. There is a definite association between higher education and higher status or status aspirations in Cebuano society. In general, Cebuanos regard prestigious behavior as that which is enlightened and sophisticated in terms of modern standards, and this includes utilizing physicians rather than mananambal, who are called "quacks" and whose practices are denounced as "ignorant" and "superstitious" by proponents of Philippine modernization. Those with the most chance to lose or gain status are most sensitive to the denigration of the mananambal, and although this may not be enough to stop the use of a mananambal if his help is believed necessary, it can be dissuasive. Education, then, supports modern medicine in Cebuano society by making it more appropriate to select physicians to treat illness, both for therapeutic and prestige reasons. Cebuanos live in a highly complicated medical situation, with their interpretations of medical events subject to alternative explanations of two medical systems and, not infrequently, differences of opinion by different practitioners within the same system. In these circumstances, patients' choices of practitioners and treatments are sometimes based on what might be more aptly described as unstable inclinations rather than decisions. It is not unusual for patients to vacillate between folk medicine and modern medicine, or, with insufficient confidence in either, to use both concurrently for the same illness. It is against this complex medical background that we now turn to an examination of situations in which illness is attributed to sorcery.

6

The Attribution of Illness to Sorcery

I

N THE ASCRIPTION ot illness to sorcery, the perceptual situations are quite different for those who were party to an act of malign magic that is supposed to have produced the illness and for those who were not. T h e former possess real knowledge that an attack occurred; the attack surmised by the latter may be imaginary. T h e former begin with an act of sorcery and look for the illness they expect will follow; the latter usually begin with an illness and postulate an act of sorcery which they believe preceded it. In this chapter, we will begin by discussing the attribution of illness to sorcery from the perspective of those who are party to a sorcery attack which is thought to cause illness, and then we will examine the problem from the standpoint of those who have no firsthand knowledge that such an attack occurred. Sometimes sorcery is practiced against an unknown offender, usually a thief or vandal, who can be punished by certain forms of sorcery, such as la-ga or sampal, which do not require that the target be identified before he is attacked. Anyone who becomes ill after the sorcery is performed and who might be considered an appropriate suspect by the sorcerer and the client can become their "victim." 103

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CEBUANOSORCERY

T h e sorcerer, Danilo, and an old friend of his from a community on the southern tip of the island of Cebu were my informants. During the night of the annual fiesta in the community, Danilo's friend and his house guests had gone to bed late, and while they were asleep, a robber broke in and took a "Petromax" kerosene lamp, a revolver, and about 600 pesos belonging to one of the guests. T h e robber escaped undetected. T w o days after the robbery, Danilo arrived in the community in response to a request from his friend. Once there, Danilo cut off a piece of the purse from which the money had been stolen, with the "fingerprints" of the thief on it, and Danilo used this in performing la-ga. T w o days later, Danilo took a bus to a town in northern Cebu where he had a first cousin. After arriving, Danilo found out during a conversation with his cousin that a man suspected of being a thief was seriously ill in a house nearby. Danilo went there, and he saw a "Petromax" lamp. H e did not see a revolver, and he felt that the "money was all gone." Danilo described the symptoms of the sick man as "a swollen stomach and turning black all over." Soon afterward, the man died, and Danilo and his friend assumed that this was the robber who had suffered the retribution of Danilo's sorcery. In talking about how he had found out who the victim was, Danilo said he did not know why he had decided to go to the town in northern Cebu, but " i t must have been God's will." 1 In cases such as this, where sorcery is performed against an unknown person, the association between sorcery and the illness of the victim can b e m a d e almost a t random. However, m y data f r o m sorcerers and clients would indicate that it is f a r more c o m m o n f o r the client and the sorcerer to k n o w in advance the identity of the person they intend to victimize. I n these circumstances, a designated individual must b e c o m e ill after the attack, or the sorcery cannot b e credited with accomplishing the purpose of the sorcerer and the client. T h e s e situations represent the most severe tests of the belief that sorcery works, although a n u m b e r of factors can help protect belief in the validity of sorcery in such instances. 1

This case and the case of Maria, which appears later in this chapter, were published earlier in my article, "Sorcery, Illness and Social Control in a Philippine Municipality," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, Vol. 16 (i960), pp. 1 2 7 - 1 4 3 .

ATTRIBUTION

OF

ILLNESS

105

T o begin with, if the sorcerized person does not become ill, there are explanations for failure which were discussed earlier: an oversight in the sorcery procedure; possession of an effective amulet by the intended victim; the innocence of the intended victim; or, from the client's point of view, the hiring of an incompetent sorcerer. I once heard some women discussing sorcery while they were waiting to be treated by a mananambal. One woman said that she had been to many mananambal, and the one they were waiting for was the best for treating illness caused by sorcery. A second woman agreed. A third said, "Yes, but there are fake da-utan (sorcerers) as well as fake mananambal." During the course of the ensuing conversation, she explained she knew this because she had hired sorcerers on three occasions to punish a man with whom she was involved and who was mistreating her, but there had been no visible effects on the man who was still "as healthy as the strongest carabao." T h e other women laughed at the remark about the carabao, and it is difficult to say how seriously they took all this. B u t regardless of whether the third woman did what she said, it is interesting to note that she discussed a succession of sorcery failures in terms of the spuriousness of certain sorcerers, not in terms of the spuriousness of sorcery. In this perspective, the burden of proof falls on the practitioners, rather than on the system. For a sorcerer and client, confirmation that sorcery works can occur when an individual who is the object of a sorcery attack contracts an illness coincidentally. T h e likelihood of this happening is increased by the amount of time some observers allot sorcery to work. Although sorcery is generally supposed to take effect shortly after it is performed, I have heard of cases in which illnesses were attributed to sorcery attacks that presumably took place up to seven years before the patient's symptoms appeared. Apparently sorcery can also "work" in the sense that if a person under attack knows or suspects he is being sorcerized,

i o6

CEBUANOSORCERY

h e c a n suffer adverse p s y c h o s o m a t i c c o n s e q u e n c e s . 2 A n

in-

s t a n c e in w h i c h this m a y h a v e o c c u r r e d is r e c o u n t e d b e l o w . O n e sorcerer told me that the night before she was consulted by a friend whose husband was having an affair with another woman. W h e n the husband returned home, he f o u n d out from a servant where his wife was, and he hastened to the sorcerer's himself, arriving while his wife was still there. According to the sorcerer, the husband was furious, saying to his wife, " G o d damn you, that is why I have been having trouble." H e said that he was nervous, had difficulty sleeping, and the areas under his eyes were swollen. T h e sorcerer said the husband had asked his wife to come home with him, b u t she at first refused, telling h i m that he should go to his mistress. Finally he persuaded her to return h o m e with h i m and talk things over. T h e sorcerer said that before the husband left he promised to reform and asked that she remove the spell she had placed against h i m . T h e day after the sorcerer told m e about this, I met the wife in question, and she confirmed the sorcerer's story. I saw the wife again, a week later, at the sorcerer's. T h e wife was very perturbed. She had gone to the sorcerer the night before and asked her to punish her husband again because he had resumed his affair with the other w o m a n . B u t this time the husband's symptoms were more severe. T h e husband had wakened early that morning with abdominal pains and he had gone to the hospital where he was given medicine and released. N o w the worried wife wanted the sorcerer to once again take off the spell. T h e sorcerer agreed to do this, b u t she told the wife, " Y o u are responsible for this. Y o u asked m e to hit h i m hard, and I did." T h e wife told m e that at first she did n o t really believe in such things, but now after these experiences, she believed. Sorcery is generally a c o v e r t a c t i v i t y in C e b u a n o society, a n d this case was u n u s u a l in t h e e x t e n t to w h i c h t h e person u n d e r a t t a c k was i n f o r m e d a b o u t w h a t was transpiring. U s u ally if a m a n believes h e is t h r e a t e n e d b y sorcery, h e h a s m u c h less to go o n t h a n this, a n d his suspicions m a y b e w i t h o u t f o u n d a t i o n . B u t if t h e y are n o t , a n d h e d e v e l o p s psycho2 For a medical analysis of how individuals aware of sorcery threats or other forms of magical menace to themselves can, under consequent stress, suffer psychosomatic damage and death, see Walter B. Cannon, "Voodoo Death," American Anthropologist, Vol. 44 (1942), pp. 169181.

ATTRIBUTION

OF ILLNESS

io7

somatic symptoms, then the victim's suspicions accomplish the sorcerer's purpose. From the attribution of illness to sorcery by sorcerers and clients, we now turn to the same causal explanation of illness from the perspective of those who do not have firsthand knowledge that there has been a sorcery attack pertinent to the illness they perceive. For them, unlike the client and the sorcerer, the basic question is not whether the sorcery will or has succeeded, but whether an attack took place, and who was behind it. T h e y "have evidence" that the sorcery worked, if they can establish that relevant sorcery was performed. Such deductions may be based on either medical or social evidence, but are usually based on both. T o start with, with rare exception sorcery illnesses are adult maladies. In the more than 100 sorcery cases on which I have data, only one child's illness was blamed on sorcery, and he belonged to a household whose entire membership was supposed to have been sorcerized on behalf of someone who wanted to wipe out the household in order to acquire its land. All others who were supposed to have been victimized by sorcery were over 1 5 years old. From what I observed, certain medical symptoms which might have evoked suspicion of sorcery in an adult were attributed to other causes if they showed themselves in children. This being so, we must look to the social role of the child, rather than characteristics of the illness he develops, in seeking to understand why he is usually disqualified as a sorcery victim. Social situations that give rise to or confirm suspicions of sorcery are generally those in which one party in a relationship could be, or has been, responsible for disadvantaging another: for example, the rejection of a suitor, or a dispute over land rights. Adults in such relationships are personally and fully accountable for their actions, and, as such, they may suffer the consequences, including sorcery. On the other hand, children are not responsible agents in the same degree, a quality of the child's role which appears to be accentuated in the Philippines. (Submission of the child to the strong au-

io8

CEBUANOSORCERY

thority of parents and other older relatives, with concomitant inhibitions on assertions of the child's independence, seems to be emphasized in Philippine socialization. 3 Guthrie, on the basis of a comparison of responses by Philippine and American college and university female students to questions on a parental-attitude questionnaire, concludes that "the Philippine subjects place more emphasis than American subjects upon a relationship in which children are controlled and protected, where they are encouraged to tell all their thoughts to their parents and submit to their parents' direction and advice." 4 Guthrie goes on to say, "There is an authoritarian trend in the Filipino family in which parents exercise much more influence over their children to a much later age than is true in the United States." 5 ) If a Cebuano child becomes involved in a conflict, it is very unlikely that this will lead to sorcery, unless an adult member of the child's family, ultimately responsible for the child's behavior and the defense of the interests of the child and his family, is drawn into the conflict. If this happens and sorcery takes place, it is the adult, not the child, who is the more appropriate target. A woman was being treated for a large boil on her back by a mananambal. The woman said that this ailment had first developed about two years before, and after treatment by a physician it had cleared up. However, three months before the time I saw her, the boil appeared again. She said that she had been treated by two other mananambal, with no improvement, and both of them had told her that the boil had been caused by a spirit. But the mananambal under whose treatment I saw her told the woman her ailment was due to sorcery. The woman told me that 3 For example, see Jaime Bulatao, "Philippine Values I: The Manileno's Mainsprings," Philippine Studies, Vol. 10 ( 1 9 6 2 ) , pp. 5 4 - 6 7 passim; Agaton P. Pal, " A Philippine Barrio," University of Manila Journal of East Asiatic Studies, Vol. 5 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , pp. 3 7 2 - 3 7 5 ; Robert A . Poison and Agaton P. Pal, The Status of Rural Life in the Dumaguete City Trade Area, Philippines 1 9 5 2 , Data Paper No. 2 1 , Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University ( 1 9 5 6 ) , pp. 3 0 - 3 2 ; and Ethel Nurge, Life in a Leyte Village (Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1 9 6 5 ) , pp. 7 6 - 8 6 passim. 4 George M . Guthrie, The Filipino Child and Philippine Society (Manila: Philippine Normal College Press, 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 20. 'Ibid., p. 22.

ATTRIBUTION

OF

ILLNESS

109

even before she came to this mananambal she had suspected it might be sorcery instigated by a neighbor. She said that the neighbor's child and her child had quarreled, and when she intervened, the mother of the other child quarreled with her, and told her, "You watch out because one of these days you will be finished." As I have mentioned previously, illness may be attributed to sorcery on the basis of medical evidence as well as social evidence. Four of the best known forms of Cebuano sorcery —barang,

usik (in t h e C e b u C i t y areas), la-ga, a n d

sampal

—are supposed to produce swelling, and, thus, sorcery is somewhat more likely to be suspected if symptoms of the patient include a perceivable tumorous mass or some other form of body swelling. W e have previously made reference to the frequency with which cancer cases are attributed to sorcery. On the basis of his experience in the area, a Dumaguete physician stated that among diseases involving abdominal enlargement that might be attributed to sorcery were: cancer of the liver or any abdominal tumor, portal cirrhosis, ovarian cysts, and peritonitis. Sensations of sorcery patients, as well as visible symptoms of their maladies, may correspond in highly specific ways to the expected results of certain sorcery procedures. This is quite common among those who are believed to be victims of barang or other types of sorcery in which insects are supposed to attack the victim. T o illustrate, one such individual said that he could not sleep at night, because he felt as if insects were crawling on and in him. Another said that her pain "ran from side to side" and even to her throat, and "it feels as if an insect is crawling and biting." She said that she felt as if she could spit the insect out when it rose to her throat, but it would not come out. W h e n I asked another informant who had recovered from an illness ascribed to sorcery to describe his symptoms, he said, "Those insects were all inside me." In cases of this kind, visible as well as "unseen" insects can confirm a sorcery attack. For example, one woman whose illness was imputed to sorcery said that around the time she

110

CEBUANO

SORCERY

became sick she noticed an unusual number of insects in the house, including beetles. Another informant said that three days after treatment she found a bee in her bed, "still struggling for life." A man who regarded himself as a victim of sorcery said that after he began to be treated by a mananambal, he felt ticklish when he went to bed at night, "as if insects were coming out," and he lit a match and saw some small insects in his bed. T h e next day on a bus he suddenly felt a tickling at the back of his neck, and he pulled off an ant which he regarded as a sorcery insect. As far as these kinds of cases are concerned, the correspondence between what the patient experiences and what he might be expected to experience according to culturally defined characteristics of Cebuano sorcery is obvious. This cannot be said of the following case, in which an unusual symptom of the patient precipitated an interpretation that was consistent with traditional beliefs about sorcery, but not provided by them. On August 21, 1955, Maria began to vomit frequently, and her stomach felt very painful. She had stopped menstruating by this time. When vomiting and pain continued, she was taken to the Provincial Hospital, where she remained for two weeks and was treated with injections and tablets. After two weeks, Maria felt no better, and, though the hospital was reluctant to release her, she forced her husband to bring her home so she could get a mananambal. Maria's brother went to a mananambal in Dumaguete, and when the mananambal heard about the case, he performed a tigi, a term applied to a number of procedures used to secure supernatural guidance in making decisions. In this tigi, the mananambal, in a fairly dark room, took a full glass of water, put a flat plate on top of it, inverted the glass, and placed another plate on top of it. Lighted candles were placed on either side of the glass. He then asked Maria's brother to see if he could find the image of anyone in the glass. (This "projective test" is one of the ways of identifying the enemy of the victim in a sorcery case.) Maria's brother looked in the glass and saw the face of a second cousin involved in a serious dispute over land ownership with Maria. (When I asked another informant who used this kind of tigi about the clarity of such images, he compared them to a photographic negative.) After the tigi, the mananambal vis-

ATTRIBUTION

OF

ILLNESS

i 1J

ited Maria and said she had been "attacked by a supernatural idea." He gave her some powder to put in water to be taken until the sickness was cured, and for more than a month she took the medicine, with her nausea and pain gradually subsiding. However, her abdomen was swelling, and she began to discharge blood vaginally. At this point, Maria secured another mananambal, who used a form of treatment called bulobulo, in which the practitioner blows through a bamboo tube into a glass of water held over the patient; if the illness is supernatural, vegetable, animal, or mineral matter appears in the water, "extracted" from the patient. A bumble bee, considered in this case to be a barang insect, was found in the water. Maria's abdomen continued to swell, and finally it was assumed that she was pregnant. On November 1, she felt she was having labor pains, and a local midwife was sent for. But after the midwife came, instead of having a child, the patient began to expel vaginally what were described by the midwife as clusters of "shiny eggs." The midwife, who was also a mananambal experienced in treating sorcery cases, believed that these were eggs of the barang insect previously removed from the patient. These "eggs" were burned with oil specially prepared for treatment of supernatural illnesses. The patient continued to have slight bleeding for several months, but she finally completely recovered. A physician with whom I later discussed Maria's symptoms believed that the patient may have suffered from hydatitiform mole. (The following are excerpts from a description of hydatitiform mole in a volume on clinical obstetrics: "Hydatitiform, hydropic or vesicular degeneration of the chorion constitutes a tumor of the fetal membranes characterized by proliferation and cystic degeneration of chorionic villi and an increase of the syncytium. The tumor resembles a bunch of grapes of irregular size and shape . . . Three fairly common symptoms of mole are uterine bleeding, pain and excessive nausea and vomiting . . . In the majority of cases the patient considers herself normally pregnant until she begins to have abnormal bleeding. The diagnosis is rarely made until the patient herself observes the passage of typical grapelike vesicles.") 6 This case exemplifies the elasticity with which symptoms of the patient may be linked to specific forms of sorcery. Information possessed by laymen and the more comprehensive knowledge which mananambal have about putative consequences of sorcery are suggestive, not prescriptive, in their * Clifford B. Lull and Robert A. Kimbrough, eds. Clinical Obstetrics (Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1953), pp. 265-266.

112

CEBUANOSORCERY

influence on diagnosis of symptoms, and there is considerable latitude for improvisation in such interpretations. T o cite another example, one manatiambal sometimes diagnosed patients who had throat trouble or found it difficult to swallow as barang victims. T h e mananambal in question explained that although barang insects are supposed to penetrate deep into the body and attack visceral organs, sometimes these animals stop in the throat of the victim. W h e n we take into consideration the flexibility of diagnosis and the fact that collectively t h e sorcery procedures decribed to m e are supposed to produce a wide variety of effects (see Appendix as well as Chapter 3 ) , it is not surprising that t h e symptoms which can b e imputed to sorcery are highly diverse. F r o m my observations, they include, in addition to swelling, pain in virtually any part of the anatomy, bleeding, vomiting, fever, paralysis, constriction, difficulties in breathing or swallowing, loss of appetite, impairment of vision or hearing, suppuration, coughing, loss of weight, difficulty urinating, dysmenorrhea, numbness, trembling, itchiness or tickling sensations, flatulence, rashes, halitosis, insomnia, uneasiness, and confused behavior. T h u s , although certain symptoms are more likely to b e ascribed to sorcery than others, such diagnoses may b e induced by a great variety of pathological signs, which also could b e attributed to causes other than sorcery according to C e b u a n o folk etiology. Given this range of symptoms and the diagnoses alternative to sorcery that could account for them, an enmity incurred by the patient that might have motivated an attack against him becomes a crucial factor in initiating or confirming the attribution of the patient's illness to sorcery. In other words, when sorcery is diagnosed, the social history of t h e patient, as well as the syndrome of his illness, is symptomatic. In some instances, as in the first two cases below, reaction of the patient to an inimical social relationship predisposes the patient to b l a m e his illness on sorcery before this is confirmed by a mananambal's diagnosis of his symptoms; in the third case, the order is reversed, and the

ATTRIBUTION

OF

ILLNESS

113

mananambal's attribution of the patient's symptoms to sorcery prods the patient to think of an inimical social relationship that substantiates the diagnosis of the mananambal. A woman discussed with me an affliction that she had suffered several years before. Her symptoms were a swollen and itchy face, uneasiness, and insomnia. The woman, who had completed three years of high school, told me that previously when she had had "flu" she had gone to a physician for treatment, but when she got this later illness she "did not bother to go to the doctor," because just before this she had quarreled bitterly with her sisterin-law, whose father was known as a barangan. The woman said she was cured by a mananambal, and after she recovered, the mananambal gave her special sacred oil which she used as an amulet whenever her face began to itch again. Elena, a nursing student in one of the universities in Cebu City, was being treated by a mananambal for a sorcery illness. Elena said that she felt pain on both sides of her body, and the pain was extreme when she urinated. She said she had been to two physicians who treated her for a kidney infection, but she had failed to improve. After that, she sought help from the mananambal. She said that even before she visited the mananambal she suspected this might be sorcery because a girl friend of hers had been going with a man who, when he found out about the girl friend's "questionable past," shifted his attentions to Elena, whereupon the rejected girl warned Elena that she would get revenge. I met a supervisor of school teachers while he was visiting a mananambal, and he told me about the time he was victimized by sorcery. He said that for almost a year he had been weak and tired continually, with frequent stomach pains. Examinations by physicians and blood and urine tests failed to disclose the trouble. Finally he went to the mananambal, who, after divination, told him that he had been sorcerized. He said that he did not suspect anything like this before he went to the mananambal. The mananambal asked him to think over his past life and name those he considered unfriendly. One of those mentioned was identified as the guilty party by the mananambal. The suspect's wife was a teacher in the supervisor's school, and the supervisor had once reprimanded her for gossiping. Furthermore, the supervisor's wife said that although the suspect was also a supervisor of teachers, he was envious of the alleged victim because of the latter's better fortune. The victim said he had never spoken to the suspect

ii 4

CEBUANOSORCERY

about this, and after three to four months treatment by the mananambal, he gradually recovered. Now he had returned to the mananambal again because he had received an anonymous letter a few days before accusing him of practicing favoritism. Divination by the mananambal showed that it was the same couple responsible for the sorcery against him who had sent him the letter. The letter contained no threat, but he secured an amulet from

the mananambal.

As in the above case, often when a mananambal attributes a patient's illness to sorcery, he also identifies the culprit for the sorcery victim. Generally this is done after the mananambal talks to the patient about his possible enemies, and the mananambal subsequently has recourse to information from a supernatural source designating the guilty party. Although the patient may accept the mananambal's diagnosis of sorcery, it is possible for his idea of who is responsible to differ from that of the mananambal. The patient's illness began four years before, with pain in her left ear and a feeling that "something was crawling around inside the ear." She also had persistent headaches and felt "as if there were grass" in her throat. The mananambal said that it was a man in Opon, a community notorious for sorcerers, who had done this to her, but the patient suspected someone in another town in Cebu island, a former tenant on some coconut land she owned. She said that she had cancelled this man's tenancy rights when he held back part of her rightful share of the crop, and it was a week after this that her illness commenced. Such a discrepancy between the identification of the culprit by the mananambal and the patient is exceptional. Commonly there is a kind of reflexive accord between the two in this matter. Often the patient may have definite suspicions that become apparent to the mananambal before he diagnoses sorcery, or just afterward, and the mananambal confirms these suspicions. Or, if the patient has singled out no suspect, the accusation of the mananambal may change a possibility into a probability or a certainty in the patient's mind.

ATTRIBUTION

OF

ILLNESS

Sometimes the mananambal does not identify the person responsible for the sorcery, leaving this up to the patient. If this happens and the patient is uncertain about whom to blame, he may be led into a kind of "roulette of suspicion." The mananambal told a new patient who had difficulty swallowing that he had been sorcerized, and the mananambal asked him to think who might have done this to him. The patient made no suggestions. When he was asked whether he had any suspicions that this might be sorcery before he came to the mananambal, he said no, that he "did not believe in this sort of thing," that he "believed in God." But he then went on to say that in his business of operating a cargo launch between Leyte and Mindanao there were many men who did not keep their word, and he had had a number of quarrels. He said that he could not pinpoint anyone yet. Some patients diagnosed as sorcery victims denied that there could be anyone who would want to have them sorcerized. An older man who had been ill for eight years with a multiplicity of symptoms, including dizziness, failing vision, weakening of his limbs, and numbness in the left side of his body, was being treated by a mananambal, who diagnosed this as a sorcery case but did not tell the patient who was responsible for his condition. Later the patient told me that he had no suspicion this was sorcery. He said, "Only those who have enemies will suspect bad things from other people. As for me, I have no enemies, so I suspect nothing bad from anyone." According to my experience, such denials by the patient are infrequent. When made in my presence, denials often reflected an initial reluctance by the patient to talk about personal, sensitive matters with me or others whom the patient might be seeing for the first time, rather than an absence of suspicion that he had been sorcerized. Such reticence was likely to dissolve under the urging of the mananambal, or when someone else present who knew the patient started discussing the case. Usually when this happened, the patient began to talk feelingly about his side of the case as an injured party.

i i6

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Jose was a stevedore. He had abdominal swelling and pain. He had previously been to the hospital with this ailment, but it still persisted after treatment there. (Hospital records showed that Jose had been admitted twice, and on both occasions he had been treated for a bleeding peptic ulcer and discharged improved.) Two other mananambal had diagnosed Jose's illness as a natural ailment before he came to the third mananambal, who told him that he had been sorcerized. When Jose talked to me, at first he said that he had no idea who could have done this to him, since he had no enemies. Later his wife joined us, and she said that the diagnosis of the mananambal confirmed her suspicion. She and Jose then told me the following. Jose had a niece who was a vendor at the docks. Carlos, a fellow worker of Jose's, began making romantic advances to Jose's niece. Jose said that for the good of his niece and Carlos he reminded Carlos that his niece was already married, and her husband might kill Carlos if he found out what was going on. Carlos told Jose that he should mind his own business, they quarreled, and this led to a fight. Jose's wife volunteered the information that they found out Carlos had a cousin who lived in Opon. Apparently they believed the cousin was the sorcerer. Often the patient diagnosed as a sorcery victim has had a dispute or hostile relationship with someone who comes to mind as an obvious suspect. T h e chances of this happening are enhanced by the fact that such conflicts do not have to be current or to have occurred immediately prior to development of the illness. They could have preceded it by months or even years. A conflict which was only a memory can resume an immediate relevance to the patient's life if he is defined as a sorcery victim. Delfina, who was accompanied by her husband, was being treated by the mananambal for the first time. Delfina complained of a loss of appetite, pain at the base of her neck and in her shoulders, dizziness, and chills. When the mananambal said that this was sorcery, Delfina's husband was startled by the information. After talking with Delfina, the mananambal told her that she had been sorcerized long before by someone on the island of Masbate. Later Delfina and her husband, who had moved from Masbate five years before, told me about the trouble they had had there which they now believed was behind the attack. They were not originally from Masbate, but had moved there to farm some land owned by Delfina's brother. While there, they had

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quarreled with a neighbor, also a farmer, because the neighbor's carabao kept straying into their fields and eating their young corn. Finally, they said, after many such incidents, Delfina's husband killed the neighbor's carabao. They said that the neighbor sued them and collected damages, and after the trial he threatened to wipe them out unless they left Masbate. If a patient diagnosed as a victim of sorcery by a mananambal cannot recall any major dispute that could explain the attack, what originally might have been regarded as an unimportant argument by the patient may, upon reflection, assume major significance for him in the light of the diagnosis. Simon, an old man with a swollen side, had been brought to the mananambal by his son-in-law the day before I saw him receiving his second treatment. Simon told me that he did not think this was sorcery until the mananambal made her diagnosis. Simon said there had been some question the year before about the exact location of a stone marking the boundary between part of his land and land belonging to his niece and her husband, an incident which Simon described as a misunderstanding, "not a serious quarrel." However, as Simon and his son-in-law continued to discuss the case, it was apparent that the husband of Simon's niece had become their suspect. The man in question was described by Simon's son-in-law as one who always seemed to be friendly, but who operated in an underhanded and clever way. He went on to say that people in his community did not like the niece's husband despite his friendliness, because it was suspected that his mother, who lived in another town, was a sorcerer. These and other data show that in sorcery cases, the perception of social situations influences the perception of medical symptoms, and vice versa. After a diagnosis by a mananambal, the patient's original assessment of some disagreement as inconsequential may undergo revision if there is a possibility that the other party to the disagreement considered it serious enough to have the patient sorcerized. Sorcery feeds, as well as feeds on, suspicion, and a diagnosis of sorcery is an invitation to suspect the worst of others. Vicente, who complained of stomach pain and numbness and stiffness in his neck, said that he had been to three physicians be-

CEBUANOSORCERY fore coming to the mananambal. (Hospital records showed that Vicente had been examined, and the "impression" of diagnosis was gastritis and a peptic ulcer.) According to the mananambal, Vicente was suffering from a combination of a natural ailment and sorcery. A cousin of Vicente's had accompanied him to the mananambal's, and when the mananambal said Vicente had been sorcerized, his cousin ventured the opinion that this was hard to believe, because Vicente had no enemies. T h e mananambal responded, "You cannot tell who your enemies are. I have no enemies, but there are plenty of people who want to harm me." Aggression, as well as suspicion, characterizes sorcery cases. W h e n a patient suspects an enemy of sorcerizing him, h e suspects his enemy of this form of aggression. B u t beyond that, t h e patient, through t h e psychological process of projection, may b e expressing his own aggression by attributing hostile impulses that h e himself feels to another. 7 I n sorcery cases, then, the roles of victim and aggressor may fuse. T h e y may also, as in t h e following example, mirror each other in the suspicions of antagonists. Lourdes, my informant, had been treated for a swollen and painful abdomen by a mananambal, and he told her it was caused by sorcery. Lourdes believed Isidra was behind the attack. They both worked as dressmakers in the same shop. Lourdes said that her sister in the United States had sent her some dollars, which Lourdes entrusted to Isidra to change for pesos. Lourdes said Isidra delayed turning over the pesos to her, and they had a big quarrel about this before Lourdes became ill. Lourdes said that after she recovered, Isidra became ill and was treated for hemorrhaging. W h e n this happened, Lourdes said, Isidra, who had heard of Lourdes' suspicions, asked her whether she had had this done to Isidra as revenge. In this, as in most other cases discussed in this chapter, sorcery may have been suspected when none was practiced, but the full potentiality of t h e relationship between suspicion and aggression in C e b u a n o sorcery cases cannot b e appreciated without examining the implications of the fact that 7

Cf. Clyde Kluckhohn, Navaho Witchcraft (Boston: Beacon Press,

1 9 6 2 ) , pp. 1 0 0 - 1 0 1 .

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the practice of sorcery is a real rather than a completely imaginary activity in Cebuano society. Sorcery does not have to be practiced to be believed in, but the fact that sorcery is actually attempted in Cebuano society (probably far less frequently than is suspected) means that at least some Cebuanos have the example of their own behavior to attest to the fact that the sponsorship or practice of sorcery can be an appropriate form of aggression. This can be highly pertinent in situations where aggressor and victim roles spawn each other. The man who believes he has been sorcerized may assume the aggressor's role not only through an accusation but also through the vengeance of sorcery. (In several instances, I was aware of patients who believed they had been sorcerized seeking to inflict the same or worse injury on their enemy through the patient's mananambal who was also a sorcerer.) Conversely, the man who has previously practiced, instigated, or considered the possibility of sorcery against an enemy can easily suspect an enemy of initiating sorcery against him. In this respect, he sees his suspect in his own image, and should he develop an illness that he ascribes to sorcery, it might be said that the sorcery he was party to earlier had an impact later against himself. In discussing medical factors in sorcery cases, we have concentrated on diagnosis, but the treatment, as well as the interpretation, of symptoms can have an important bearing on the attribution of illness to sorcery, since the outcome of the mananambal's therapy can support or invalidate his diagnosis. This does not necessarily mean that the failure of a patient to recover under the care of a mananambal who diagnosed sorcery will discredit the diagnosis of the mananambal, since it may be believed that the sorcery was too powerful for the mananambal to overcome. Lucio, a farmer and peddler of chickens, had become ill a month before. He had back pain, and he found himself gasping for breath, with a feeling that something inside his throat was choking him. He had first gone to a mananambal in his own

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barrio, who diagnosed the trouble as sorcery. Lucio said that the mananambdl told him who was responsible, a man who had agreed to supply Lucio with chickens. Lucio said that he had made a payment in advance to the man, but the man failed to provide any chickens, or return the money, whereupon Lucio and the man quarreled. Lucio said that he did not accuse the man when he found out about the sorcery, since, after considering what the man had already done to him, Lucio thought "he might do more." Lucio said that after a month of treatment by the mananambdl, his condition was somewhat improved, but he had not completely recovered, and he had gone to a second mananambal because she had more power than the mananambal in his barrio. In this case, t h e diagnosis of t h e second mananambal agreed with t h a t of t h e first, b u t frequently o n e mananambal may i m p u t e a particular illness to sorcery, a n d a n o t h e r may not. W h e n this occurs, t h e p a t i e n t will t e n d to believe t h e diagnosis of t h e practitioner w h o cures h i m , regardless of w h e t h e r t h e diagnosis is sorcery. If a mananambal does n o t a t t r i b u t e a patient's symptoms to sorcery at the start of an illness, a n d if t h e p a t i e n t fails to recover a n d continues to seek medical h e l p f r o m other mananambal, obviously t h e chances increase t h a t a t some p o i n t his illness may b e b l a m e d on sorcery. Flora became ill two months before. She had pain in her side and in the small of her back, difficulty sleeping, and morning nausea. She said that when she ate, "the food does not go down to my stomach, but stays in my chest." Flora, who had finished two years of high school, thought she had appendicitis, and she went to the hospital. She said that she was told to go to a clinic for a blood test and a urine test, but she did not go. W h i l e she was being examined by a hospital physician, he felt her right side, and when she winced, he asked her whether she had had a recent fall. She answered no, but later she remembered that she had slipped and fallen about four months before while taking a bath. At this point, she decided that she had piang, which, she said, "cannot be treated by the doctors," so she went to a manghihilot. He massaged her side, which subsequently got worse. By now she had developed a fever, and she next went to a mananambal, who simply diagnosed her case as hilanat (fever). Treatment by this mananambal brought no improvement in Flora's condition, and she went to a second mananambal, who diagnosed her case

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as sorcery. Flora said the mananambal did not tell her who did this to her, but Flora "knew." She said there was a man in Cebu City who could not get along with his wife, and they had been separated for more than five years when Flora met the man, and they decided to become "common-law husband and wife." Flora said that several times before this, the man's mother had tried to effect a reconciliation between him and his legal wife, but neither the wife nor he wanted it. However, Flora said, once she and the man started living together, the man's legal wife decided she wanted him back. Flora was convinced that this woman, who had an uncle in Opon, had instigated the sorcery against her. Flora said that after the mananambal told her she had been sorcerized, the man's wife came to her, saying that she had heard about the diagnosis and demanding to know who the mananambal was. Flora said she told the wife she was going to see the mananambal that day, and she invited her to come with her, but the wife declined. In cases of this kind, the failure of previous treatment paves the way for a sorcery diagnosis. A social situation appropriate for sorcery suspicions may be constantly in the background to serve as an explanation for illness when medical circumstances help foster such perception. Although the sorcery case materials presented have included some examples of patients' utilizing the services of physicians, my discussion of medical influences on the perception of sorcery illnesses has primarily considered the problem with reference to folk medicine. However, although modern medical etiology does not recognize supernatural pathogenesis, such as sorcery, in Cebuano areas modern medicine is frequently involved in a sequence of events which culminates in a diagnosis of sorcery. T h e following is only one of many illustrative cases which could be cited. Francisco, a farmer 65 years old, first noticed his illness three years before when his head began to ache and his vision blurred, first in one eye, and then in the other. The first mananambal he went to told him it was sorcery and treated him accordingly, without success. Francisco said he then went to a succession of other mananambal, some of whom informed him that the illness was natural, whereas others told him it was due to sorcery. Francisco said that none of their treatments helped, his vision grew

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worse, and all he could see was "a speck of light." Francisco told me that finally he went to a physician, who operated on his eyes. After the operation, Francisco said, there seemed to be a little improvement, but then his vision failed again, and he went to another mananambal, who said it was bughat (a relapse). (Records of the physician who performed surgery on Francisco showed that prior to surgery Francisco's case was diagnosed as bilateral chronic glaucoma, congested in the right eye. In the right eye there was light perception; in the left eye the patient was able to count fingers at the distance of a foot. Two years after surgery, Francisco was reexamined. His right eye was soft, with negative vision; his left eye was still hard.) When I saw Francisco, he was under the treatment of a new mananambal, who told him that he had been sorcerized. Francisco told me that before his illness began he and another man had quarreled about the location of the boundary between their plots of land, and after that they had stopped speaking to each other. Francisco said that when he first became ill he did not think that it was this man who was behind his trouble, but when so many mananambal told him the man was responsible, he began to believe that it was this man, and the latest mananambal to diagnose his case had confirmed this. The medical situation in Cebuano areas is such that in numerous cases the potentiality for illness to be attributed to sorcery is contingent on the results of modern medicine as well as those of folk medicine. A physician's cure may eliminate an illness before there is an opportunity to blame it on sorcery, or may have the effect of canceling a previous sorcery diagnosis. Conversely, negative results of modern medicine in certain cases may expose them to subsequent diagnosis as sorcery, or leave the way open for confirmation of such a diagnosis. In these circumstances, the whole Cebuano medical field, in both its modern and folk dimensions, is implicated in the attribution of illness to sorcery, which can be an unintended consequence of the acts of a physician or the result intended by a mananambal. From some of the cases discussed, it is apparent that for the patient sorcery as an explanation of his symptoms may come and go during the course of his illness. A decision he makes about the cause of his illness may be only temporary, subject to change on the basis of new medical evidence; beset

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by alternatives, he may remain indecisive; or sometimes, as in the following case, contrasting interpretations of his illness may induce him to follow different courses of medical behavior concurrently. Fernando, a foreman of a crew working on cargo barges, finished the third year of high school. Several weeks before he noticed a swollen place on his tongue, which surprised him, since he had felt no pain. Fernando said that he went to a hospital, and a biopsy showed he had cancer. (A check of hospital records later showed that he had been treated there for a squamous cell cancer of the tongue.) Fernando told me that right after this report he went to the mananambal under whose care I met him, and she told him that his illness was due to panghasol (a type of sorcery; see Appendix). Fernando said that he decided to undergo a series of cobalt treatments at the hospital, but after each treatment there, he also came to the mananambal for treatment, which consisted of the mananambal's massaging his neck with a sacred oil while she said an oration and had him chew leaves of guava (Psidium guajava). In discussing his case with me, Fernando said, "Because you cannot see this (sorcery), some people believe it and some don't." With respect to who might have sorcerized him, he said that in his work he could have antagonized several members of the crew he bossed. On a later occasion, when Fernando was discussing the reason why he wanted treatment from the mananambal as well as the hospital, he said that a cousin of his wife's developed lumps in her breast which were diagnosed as cancer, and after treatment with surgery and cobalt she died. "This could be very serious," Fernando said. It was evident that treatment by the mananambal was an important source of security for Fernando in this situation. Once after receiving therapy from her he said, " I am sure that if she had not been treating me I would be worse by now." T h e case of Fernando shows that although logically, in terms of medical theory, cancer and sorcery are mutually exclusive explanations of disease, receptivity of the patient to one diagnosis need not necessarily preclude his receptivity to the other; in fact, he may follow what for him is a more significant logic: maximizing his chance for survival by adapting his behavior to two different sets of diagnosis and treatment, either of which might be correct in his case.

7 Sorcery and Cebuano Society

C

forces in Cebuano society, and the larger Philippine society, include: kinship and friendship; common culture and nationality; mutual economic, social, political, and religious interests; and governmental and nongovernmental sanctions that enforce norms and laws. In this study of sorcery, we are concerned with situations in which these cohesive forces are ineffective or inoperative, situations in which social controls are inadequate to prevent individuals from being menaced, or feeling menaced, by others with hostile intentions. In societies where beliefs in malign magic persist, these are situations in which sorcery accusations or the practice of sorcery takes place. OHESIVE

T h e connection between sorcery and social control has been underscored in other analyses of sorcery and witchcraft. In a major study of sorcery, Whiting investigated the importance of sorcery in societies with coordinate and superordinate social controls. 1 In the former, no special authorities exist to settle disputes or punish offenders, and retaliation by peers is the principal means of social control; in the latter, there are individuals vested with authority to settle disputes 1 Beatrice B . Whiting, Paiute Sorcery, Viking Fund Publications in Anthropology, N o . 1 5 ( 1 9 5 0 ) . 124

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2

and enforce punishment. Whiting postulated that, as a practice associated with retaliation, sorcery would be more important in societies with coordinate rather than superordinate social controls, and this hypothesis was given statistically significant support in a comparison of 50 non-Western societies.3 In a sociological analysis of religious and magical beliefs, Swanson stated that widespread use of black magic (for which he uses the term witchcraft) "suggests a serious lack of legitimate means of social control and moral bonds." 4 Swanson hypothesized that witchcraft would be prevalent in situations characterized by intimate but "unlegitimated" social relations, 5 that is, "situations in which people must interact closely with one another for the achievement of common ends," and "in which the relations among people were not developed with the consent, tacit or explicit, of all concerned; or in which persons with conflicting objectives cannot resolve their differences through commonly agreed upon means such as the courts or community councils." 6 Swanson found statistical confirmation of his hypothesis in a sample of primitive societies.7 Our focus will be on sorcery as a product of social discord and as an index of the inadequacy of social controls. W e are not unmindful, however, that sorcery has stabilizing as well as divisive aspects, and that sorcery beliefs may be instruments of social control, preventing conflicts as well as giving expression to them. Kluclchohn, in his study of Navaho witchcraft 8 (he uses the term witchcraft to refer to supernatural techniques that are socially disapproved), sees witchcraft beliefs as contributing to Navaho social control through their effect as sanctions which restrain individuals from so2

Ibid., p. 82. ' Ibid., pp. 82-83 a n d 8 7' G u y E. Swanson, The Birth of the Gods (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1960), p. 146. 'Ibid. "Ibid., p. 126. 7 Ibid., p. 147. "Clyde Kluclchohn, Navaho Witchcraft (Boston: Beacon Press, 1962).

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dally disruptive behavior, behavior that could make them vulnerable to charges of practicing witchcraft, or prey to having witchcraft practiced against them. In Kluckhohn's words, "Realization that someone who 'acts mean' is likely to be accused as a witch acts as a deterrent of hostile acts. T h e corollary is that an offended person may avenge himself by witchcraft." 9 Y e t Kluckhohn, who fully examined adaptive phases of Navaho witchcraft, also noted the maladaptive side of witchcraft beliefs. " T h a t most Navahos believe in witchcraft is, up to a point, a danger not merely to the solidarity but to the very existence of the society. T h e informant's remark, 'If the white people hadn't stopped us, we'd have killed each other off' has more than a grain of truth in it." 1 0 Just how corrosive the effects of sorcery beliefs can be on social relations is demonstrated by Cebuano data. Here are a few examples: Ines believed that she had been sorcerized by Paula, a neighbor, who, Ines said, was known to be able to do sorcery. According to Ines several weeks before she became ill Paula's son received a knife wound in a fight, and Paula decided to bring charges against the one believed to have done this to her son. Ines said that Paula asked her to appear as a witness against the accused, but she (Ines) had refused because, she said, "How could I do that when I didn't even see it?" After this, Ines became ill, and the mananambal said Paula had sorcerized her. Ines said when the mananambal told her this, she had approached Paula about it, careful to do so in a joking manner. Ines said she told Paula what the mananambal had said, and she asked Paula to take off the insects or snakes which she sent. According to Ines, Paula replied, "Don't you believe that mananambal. I can't do anything like that, and even if I could, how could I do it to you when we are friends." After Ines told me this about Paula, she said, " I don't want to see her face anymore." A woman was convinced that she had been sorcerized at the instigation of a second cousin because of a dispute over land inheritance. She said that her cousin knew someone who could practice sorcery, and although her cousin had visited her before • Ibid.., p. 113. 10 Ibid., p. 110.

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she became ill, the visits stopped after that. The woman said that she and her cousin no longer speak, and each spits after they pass each other. Diego, a man from Siquijor who was treated by a mananambal in Cebu City for an illness attributed to sorcery, suspected that Artemio was behind the attack. Diego said that he and Artemio were involved in a dispute over land inheritance, which the court decided in Diego's favor. Diego said that Artemio had then appealed the case, and following that, Diego became ill. Diego said that at one point he had threatened to kill Artemio. According to Diego, he no longer speaks to Artemio, and when he sees Artemio his "blood boils." From these and other materials previously discussed, it is evident that if sorcery beliefs can inhibit social conflict, they also can exacerbate it. And, no matter what the overall effects of sorcery cases are, the occurrence of these cases is usually precipitated by dissension that threatens or ruptures social bonds. SORCERY CASES F R O M

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Data on 22 sorcery cases were secured from informants in Sibulan. 1 1 T w o of the alleged victims in these cases were from Dumaguete City; the remainder were residents of Sibulan or nearby rural municipalities. Twelve of the 22 cases involved disputes over land ownership or use; in the other 10 cases, the issues were varied, including theft, vandalism, political rivalry, disagreements between a shopkeeper and her customers and suppliers, adultery, and the rejection of a suitor. W e will concentrate our discussion on land disputes, which are the issue most frequently underlying sorcery attacks, real or putative, in these rural areas. Various studies of the Philippines have emphasized land 11 Analysis of these materials from Sibulan substantially follows that published earlier in my article, "Sorcery, Illness and Social Control in a Philippine Municipality," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, V o l . 16 ( 1 9 6 0 ) , pp. 140-142.

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problems as a source of social stress. 12 W h e n the United States assumed control of the islands, it is estimated that 400,000 Filipino farmers were without land titles; furthermore, records of titles which had been issued were incomplete, and land surveys supporting titles were inaccurate. 13 In Spencer's opinon, neither the United States, nor the Philippine government after independence, implemented an effective land policy in the islands. 14 Even today, most farm lands in the Philippines are without titles. 15 Occupation of land, usually validated by tax receipts, is increasingly regarded as the legal basis for land claims. 16 In Sibulan, a cadastre has been carried out. T h e government has had the land surveyed, claimed it, and now requires validation of individual claims before title is granted. Yet many continue to "own" land, basing their claim solely on possession, and the government does not challenge this practice. When land is sold in the area, the transaction may be either filed with the Register of Deeds of Negros Oriental province, or it may be notarized without formal registration; or the buyer and seller may simply sign an agreement recording a transfer of the land. Sometimes tenure claims are so vague and intricate that fraud is encouraged, but regardless of whether conscious deception takes place, the informal and indefinite nature of many land claims is conducive to misunderstandings. T h e following is a case in point. Maria believed she had been sorcerized because of a dispute with her second cousin, Cerila, over land ownership. From what Maria said, the land in question was purchased by her father 12 See, for example, Joseph E. Spencer, Land and People in the Philippines (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1 9 5 4 ) , p. 1 1 2 ; and D o n n V . Hart, "Barrio Caticugan: A Visayan Filipino C o m m u n i t y " (Ph.D. dissertation on file at Syracuse University) ( 1 9 54) > P- 4 7 8 13 Karl J. Pelzer, Pioneer Settlement in the Asiatic Tropics (New York: American Geographical Society, 1 9 5 4 ) , p. 89. " Spencer, op. cit., p. 120. lr' A]den Cutshall, "Problems of Land Ownership in the Philippine Islands," Economic Geography, V o l . 28 ( 1 9 5 2 ) , p. 36. " S p e n c e r , op. cit., p. 1 1 9 .

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from two brothers who owned it jointly; one of the brothers signed a receipt for the transfer, but the other, Cerila's father, did not. According to Maria, Cerila's father was very ill at the time, and he asked only part payment for his share of the land, with the understanding that the rest of the money would be used to finance his funeral, and that his daughter, Cerila, at that time only three or four years old, would sign the receipt when she came of legal age. Maria said Cerila's father died the year after this agreement was made, and Maria's father paid for the funeral; Cerila, however, upon reaching legal age, would not sign the receipt waiving her right to her father's original share of the land. W h e n I later checked with Cerila about this situation, she said she did not believe her father ever made an agreement with Maria's father forfeiting her right to the land. T h e lack of formality and precision that frequently characterizes the definition of land-ownership rights sometimes applies to tenancy rights as well. Consequently, in both situations there is potential for misunderstandings and for the possibility of sorcery. T h e following case, in which a w o m a n f r o m a rural community in C e b u province was diagnosed as a sorcery victim by a C e b u C i t y mananamhal, is illustrative. Jovita, a widow, lived with her brother, and they had an argument with a neighbor over land-use rights. Jovita said her brother had purchased the right to farm a plot of land for one harvest from a tenant who was pressed for immediate cash. However, Jovita said, their neighbor claimed that he had tenancy rights over part of this plot of land, and there had been a quarrel about it. After consultation with Jovita, the mananambal told her that her neighbor was responsible for the sorcery. O f t e n the disputants are reluctant to take serious disagreements over land to court because of the costs; in some instances, this reluctance is due to the wariness of barrio people concerning involvement with the formal, impersonal legal institutions of the state. In this connection, Pal's vivid description of h o w people react to law in a Bisayan rural community in L e y t e is illuminating. " I n the concept of the barrio people, 'leaders (partisan) are good if they put joints in the law in order to m a k e it flexible; eyes to the law with which each person can be judged on his unique merits; ears to the law

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which will enable it to hear the cries of the wife and children of the person who is to be punished by the law; and a heart to the law which will enable it to feel the anxieties and sorrows of the persons who are castigated.' In other words, they want the law to be humanized." 1 7 When a land dispute is taken to court, there is no assurance that the litigants will consider the case settled after a legal decision is made. In five sorcery cases of which I knew (two of them involving informants from Sibulan and the other three involving rural informants who had been diagnosed by Cebu City mananambal), the patient's illness developed after the decision of the court. In one of these cases, that of the Siquijor informant discussed earlier in this chapter, a legal appeal showed that the verdict had not been accepted; in the other cases, the illness itself sufficed to tell the patient that his opponent was not reconciled to the judgment of the court. Thus, although Sibulan and other rural Phillippine commuities are subject to formal legal controls over land problems, these controls often are ignored or ineffective and do not prevent or settle numerous land disputes that can lead to the practice or suspicion of sorcery. 18 In cases of conflicting land interests, sorcery is associated with the limitations of mechanisms of social control other than those of the government. This is most apparent with respect to the usually solidary influence of kinship. Land problems often involve inheritance disputes between relatives, and in these circumstances, kinship ties sometimes are placed under a greater strain than they can withstand. Hart stated that in the Cebuano community he studied in southern Negros, land disputes "often rend the strong web of kinship." 1 9 17 Agaton P. Pal, " A Philippine Barrio," University of Manila Journal of East Asiatic Studies, Vol. 5 (1956), p. 424. " I n a different context, Marwick finds that among the Cewa of Northern Rhodesia, in cases where judicial mechanisms fail, "persisting tensions may be expressed through the medium of sorcery." (M. G. Marwick, Sorcery in Its Social Setting [Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1965], p. 210.) u Hart, op. cit., p. 449.

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Poison and Pal, referring to Cebuano communities in southern Negros, including Sibulan, found: "Many brothers and sisters who cannot agree on the division of their land inheritance prefer to lose their goodwill relationships rather than their small share of the inheritance." 20 In 10 of the 28 sorcery cases of which I knew that involved land disputes (data on these cases were collected in both Sibulan and Cebu City), the alleged victim and the instigator of sorcery were relatives. When serious land disputes occur and the means of orderly social control are inoperative or ineffective, the parties involved may resort to force. During the period of my research in Sibulan, a man was incarcerated in the provincial jail in Dumaguete for assault with intent to kill a neighbor in a land dispute. (Interestingly enough, the prisoner said the neighbor had threatened to sorcerize him.) However, whereas the use of open, direct force makes one subject to legal punishment, the use of covert, indirect force against one's antagonist does not. For example, a man who believed that he had been sorcerized told me that he had discussed the case at the police station, where he was asked, " W h a t kind of evidence could there be for something like this?" Under the circumstances, for some, sorcery might be a tempting way of dealing with an enemy, a thought not without relevance to an individual who believes he is a victim of sorcery. As the husband of a Sibulan woman who was believed to have been sorcerized during a land dispute expressed it: " I n land troubles, some people think it is a good idea to turn to that (sorcery)—it eliminates the expense of a lawyer, and it eliminates your enemy. Then the only enemy you have is G o d . " SORCERY

CASES F R O M

CEBU

CITY

Data were collected on 34 cases in which the illness of a resident of Cebu City was attributed to sorcery. Data were se20 Robert A. Poison and Agaton P. Pal, The Status of Rural Life in the Dumaguete City Trade Area, Philippines 1952, Data Paper No. 2 1 , Southeast Asia Program, Cornell University (1956), p. 53.

i32

CEBUANO

SORCERY

cured on another 55 cases in which the alleged victim of sorcery was from another community but was treated by a mananambal in Cebu City. I will first discuss the cases of those living in Cebu City., In the Cebu City cases, courtship and marital difficulties predominated as the issues that informants believed precipitated sorcery attacks (see Table 4 ) . In the one case where a patient's and a mananambal's versions of the cause of the sorcery were discrepant, the version of the patient was used, since he was the individual more directly affected by the putative sorcery. TABLE PROBLEMS

UNDERLYING

CEBU

4 CITY

SORCERY

CASES

Problem

Number of Cases

Difficulties connected with courtship or marriage Land disputes Business rivalry Employer-employee dissension Resentment against labor supervisor Refusal to serve as witness In-law hostility Delayed repayment of borrowed funds Quarrel of children Problem not designated

21 3 2 2

Total

34

T h e greater number of land cases in Sibulan than in Cebu City is expectable, since the former is an agricultural community and the latter is mainly not. However, the fact that our data show that 21 Cebu City residents, as against two Sibulan residents, were alleged victims of sorcery in courtship and marital cases is not evidence that such cases occur with greater frequency, in ratio to population, in Cebu City than in Sibulan, since the former community is more than 20 times as populous as the latter. In fact, the few cases available for comparison do not permit any conclusion in this respect. W e shall return to the problem of comparing the

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number of sorcery cases in Cebu City with that in other areas, but first we want to examine social facets of the Cebu City courtship and marital cases. In this discussion, the decision to place courtship and marriage cases in one category was influenced by three factors. First, certain cases have their roots in both courtship and marital relationships. For example: Oliva's husband had a serious misunderstanding with his fiancée shortly before he married Oliva. According to Oliva, the former fiancée was heard to say that if she could not have Oliva's husband, no one would, and she told Oliva, "Your married life will not be happy." When Oliva became ill, she believed her husband's former fiancée had hired a sorcerer to victimize her. Hilaria believed that a former suitor was responsible for her being sorcerized. She married another man, and she said that about the time this happened, the unsuccessful suitor threatened that if she did not marry him, he would take revenge. Second, sexual rivalry is often the issue of contention in both courtship and marital cases. Third, problems of social control of sexual relations are applicable to both types of cases. Difficulties linked to courtship and marital relationships may generate a variety of hostilities, as well as actual or alleged sorcery attacks from a variety of directions. Some indication of the range of possibilities can be seen in Table 5. Although the number of cases is small, it is interesting to note that in six of the seven sorcery cases involving husband and wife in a triangle, the illicit relationship was between the husband and an unmarried woman. This is consistent with stronger social controls over the behavior of Cebuano wives than husbands. In lowland Philippine society, emphasis is placed on the virtue and stability of the wife, who is viewed as the rock of the family; husbands are not subject to equivalent pressures to behave as responsibly. 21 If a husband is unfaithful, a wife should forgive and forbear in order to keep the family intact. 22 Philippine law accords with other social 21 See Jaime Bulatao, "Philippine Values I: The Manileno's Mainsprings," Philippine Studies, Vol. 10 (1962), pp. 56-57. 22 Ibid., p. 57.

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sanctions by dealing less stringently with the infidelity of husbands than that of wives. A husband can charge an unfaithful wife with adultery, which is defined as follows: "Adultery is committed by any married woman who shall have sexual intercourse with a man not her husband and the man who has carnal knowledge of her, knowing her to b e TABLE

5

R O L E S OF A L L E G E D V I C T I M S AND INSTIGATORS OF SORCERY IN C E B U C I T Y COURTSHIP AND M A R I T A L

Role of Sorcery Victim Wife Mistress Wife Wife Husband Husband Bachelor Bachelor Unmarried girl Unmarried girl Mother Uncle Total

Role of Instigator of Sorcery Mistress Wife Husband's pre-marital romantic interest Wife's pre-marital romantic interest W i f e (because he was having an affair) Husband's pre-marital romantic interest Former romantic interest Girl he flirted with in presence of her fiancé Jilted rival for man's affections Former romantic interest Suitor of her daughter Man having affair with victim's married niece

CASES

Number of Cases 4 1 1 2 1

3 4 1

1 1 1 1 21

married, even if t h e marriage b e subsequently declared v o i d . " 2 3 A wife may charge an unfaithful husband with concubinage if h e "shall keep a mistress in the conjugal dwelling, or shall have sexual intercourse, under scandalous circumstances, with a woman n o t his wife, or shall cohabit with her in any place . . ." 2 4 Conviction for concubinage brings a lighter sentence, six months and one day to four 23 The Revised Penal Code (Act No. 3 8 1 5 ) , annotated and commented on by Vicente J. Francisco (Manila: East Publishing, 1 9 5 2 ) , p. 7 8 6 . M

Ibid., p. 796.

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years and two months, than adultery, two years and one day to six years, 25 and the qualifications applicable to concubinage and a man's liability in adultery make it more difficult to legally establish the infidelity of a husband than a wife. For the Cebuano wife with an errant husband, legal action is hardly a practicable remedy in any event. It would not free her for remarriage, since divorce is prohibited in the Philippines. Furthermore, a suit in court involves scandal and expense, and concubinage is difficult to prove. Court records show that during the entire year of 1962, only one Cebu City wife had filed a suit against her husband for infidelity, this in a concubinage case, and the case had been dismissed. T h e wife whose husband takes a mistress may attempt to rectify the situation by bringing church or family pressures to bear on her spouse, but these are not necessarily effective sanctions in such situations. For example, one wife said she had urged her unfaithful husband to attend church with her and their children, but he refused. She said her mother-inlaw was sympathetic to her, but had advised her to remain with her husband even if he brought another woman into the house, counsel consonant with an important value of the wife's role: sufferance for the sake of the family. Indications are, then, that when infidelities of husbands or wives are at the root of sorcery cases, husbands, whose extramarital behavior is subject to weaker social controls, are more frequently the transgressors. Sorcery cases connected with courtship, like the marital cases, reflect a double standard of social control over the behavior of persons of the opposite sex. Among Cebuanos and other lowland Philippine groups, modest, chaste behavior of daughters is a strong motif of family life. Stress is placed on the family's responsibility to protect the daughter from possible premarital misadventures, and there is concern about the vulnerability of the daughter when she is away from the shield of the family. 26 When possible, close family supervi25

Ibid., pp. 787 and 796. ""Cf. Pal, op. cit., pp. 391-397; Bulatao, op. cit., pp. 54 and 57; and George M. Guthrie, The Filipino Child and Philippine Society (Manila: Philippine Normal College Press, 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 335.

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sion is exercised over the courtship of a daughter, and fickle behavior with young men is generally disapproved. In contrast, young men have much more latitude for errant premarital behavior, and success with the ladies is an important source of bachelor prestige.27 Given these circumstances, we would expect that when sorcery is believed to be connected with the dissolution of a romance at the initiative of one of the parties, in most instances it is the male who has made the break, leaving the girl rejected, and in nine of the 13 cases involving Cebu City residents as reputed victims of sorcery in such situations, this was the pattern. Actually, for some, sorcery seems to be an expected hazard of the adventures of bachelorhood. To illustrate, a man who said his illness had been diagnosed as an ulcer by a physician had come to a mananambal who said he had pasmo, a natural illness. The man said he had come to the mananambal at the urging of his mother and sister, who thought he might have been sorcerized. The man joked and said, "Maybe it was one of my former girl friends." On another occasion, when someone said that a certain man might be a bayot (a male who is a homosexual or appears to have homosexual tendencies), a woman present disagreed, saying, "Oh, no, he has already been given barang because of his affairs with women." In this perspective, sorcery can serve as a certification of manhood. In the 13 cases mentioned above, although all of the putative victims were residents of Cebu City, eight of them had been living elsewhere when the circumstances to which the sorcery was traced had occurred. This is not surprising, considering that the population of the city contains many who have migrated there, and frequently the time for such mobility is before marriage when young adults seek economic opportunities in the city. Furthermore, the decision to move to the city may precipitate, or be precipitated by, difficulties in or the severance of a romantic relationship. For example, one of those said to be a sorcery victim had migrated from a com27

See Pal, op. cit., pp. 353 and 391-397.

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S O C I E T Y

137

munity where he had not fulfilled his promise to marry a girl, who supposedly subsequently had him sorcerized. A second was alleged to have been sorcerized because he had deserted a woman with whom he had been living when he moved to the city. A third said he came to Cebu City when the father of a girl with whom he had an affair in Mindanao put him under great pressure to marry the girl. He believed that after he left the girl, she hired someone to sorcerize him. SORCERY IN A DEVELOPING

SOCIETY

T h e Philippines, like other developing, but still basically agrarian, societies, increasingly changes as it undergoes the transition toward economic modernization. 28 At this point, we want to consider the influence of these changes on Cebuano sorcery, and what this influence may indicate about the process of development in Cebuano society. A number of observers have reported or ventured the opinion that changes now occurring in various non-Western societies as they begin to be drawn more fully into the modern world have resulted in an increase rather than a decrease in sorcery and witchcraft. 29 T h e most generic explanations of this phenomenon have stressed the disruptive, disorganizing effect of change on traditional societies. Other, more specific factors cited have included: an increase in competition for land, resulting from the introduction of cash cropping and population expansion; new prohibitions against tribal warfare 28 For a discussion of some of the basic aspects of Philippine development, see Thomas R. McHale, " T h e Philippines in Transition," The Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 20 ( 1 9 6 1 ) , pp. 3 3 1 - 3 4 1 . 29 For example, see Robert Redfield, The Folk Culture of Yucatan (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1 9 4 1 ) , pp. 3 2 6 - 3 3 7 ; articles in John Middleton and E . H. Winter, eds. Witchcraft and Sorcery in East Africa (New York: Praeger, 1 9 6 3 ) ; Max Gluckman, Custom and Conflict in Africa (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1 9 5 5 ) , p. 102; Max Marwick, " T h e Continuance of Witchcraft Beliefs," in Africa in Transition, ed. Prudence Smith (London: Reinhardt, 1 9 5 8 ) , pp. 106 and 1 1 2 ; and R. E . S. Tanner, " T h e Sorcerer in Northern Sukumaland, Tanganyika," Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, Vol. 1 2 ( 1 9 5 6 ) , p. 442.

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and blood feuding, reducing opportunities for direct aggression against outsiders, with a consequent increase in indirect or covert aggression within the local group; interdictions by modern governments against traditional sanctions formerly employed against persons suspected of sorcery and witchcraft; and the opportunities for greater profit, with the establishment of a cash economy, in divining and treating illnesses attributed to sorcery and witchcraft. In attempting to assess how development of Cebuano society is influencing the frequency of sorcery or suspicions of sorcery among Cebuanos, we could consider several types of evidence. Older informants could be asked their opinions as to how the amount of sorcery in the present compares with that in the past. But information elicited in this fashion would be impressionistic and subject to bias. Some individuals might wish to emphasize contemporary progress and enlightenment in Cebuano society, and this could lead them to underestimate the significance of sorcery in the present as contrasted with the "superstitious" past. T h e opposite could be true of others who might idealize a past of tranquility and moral stability as against a present which they see pejoratively as a time of social strain and moral disorder. Another approach might be to make a geographical rather than a temporal comparison: that is, compare the frequency of sorcery in the relatively conservative rural community of Sibulan with that in the major Cebuano center of change and development, C e b u City. T h e fact that with research methods used, over comparable periods of time, data were collected on 1 1 sorcery cases in which putative victims were residents of Sibulan, with a population of 12,000, as against 34 cases of residents of Cebu City, with a population more than 20 times as large, might suggest a higher rate of sorcery in relation to population in Sibulan. However, these figures were not secured through systematic sampling of equivalent portions of the populations in the two communities—for reasons explained in the Introduction—and they cannot be treated quantitatively. Furthermore, if proportionately there

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139

are more attributions of illness to sorcery in Sibulan than in Cebu City, our sample of cases would not enable us to unravel medical from social factors in attempting to account for this situation. Thus, from all we know on the basis of a comparison of the Sibulan and Cebu City case data, if people in Sibulan are more susceptible to suspicions of sorcery, this may not be because they feel more threatened by hostility, but because they are more dependent on folk medical diagnoses, due to the fact that on the whole they are less educated and physicians are geographically and economically less accessible to them. W e do have, however, other data, which exclude the influence of the choice between folk and modern medicine, and permit us to make a comparison of the relative frequency of sorcery cases among persons living in Cebu City and individuals residing in less developed communities. Data on 68 of the 89 sorcery cases that came to my attention in Cebu City were secured while patients were being treated by either of two mananamhal who were among my informants in the city. In each of these 68 cases, the reputed victim was a patient of one of the two mananambal, and data on these cases were gathered over a period of nine months, whenever the opportunity arose to learn about a case while I was visiting the mananambal. In addition to these sorcery cases, a sample of all the patients of these same mananambal was obtained during the general survey of patients of mananambal discussed in Chapter 5. Cebu City mananambal draw their patients both from the city and other communities, and data on residence were obtained both for the sorcery patients and for all patients in the general survey. To my knowledge, the sample of patients secured during the general survey should be representative, and there was no conscious bias in the collection of sorcery cases, since every case about which I could secure information was recorded. Therefore, if residence of patients were not a factor in the sorcery cases of these two mananambal, the proportions of those who lived in and outside the city should have

i

4

o

CEBUANO

S O R C E R Y

been equivalent for the sorcery patients and patients included in the general survey. This, however, was not the case. T h e ratio of patients living outside the city to those living in the city was significantly higher for sorcery patients than for general survey patients, the level of significance being beyond .025 using chi-square analysis (see T a b l e 6 ) . TABLE

6

R E S I D E N C E OP G E N E R A L S U R V E Y P A T I E N T S AND S O R C E R Y

Residence Cebu City Outside City Total

General Survey Patients * 98 190

PATIENTS

Sorcery Patients

Total

22 46 68

120 138 258

" O n l y patients 1 6 years old and above are included for purposes of this comparison because of the rarity of younger sorcery patients. N o patient under 1 6 is represented among the sorcery patients enumerated in the table.

For purposes of considering the social rather than the medical effects of societal development on the prevalence of Cebuano sorcery, this approach offers the great advantage of presenting an analysis in which the influence of the choice between modern medicine and folk medicine on the perception of sorcery is neutralized. In other words, in a comparison of this kind, it cannot be said that of the cases considered more patients residing outside the city than those within the city became putative victims of sorcery because, regardless of the state of their social relationships, more of the former selected mananambal for treatment than the latter did. This consideration is not pertinent here, since only patients who went to mananambal are enumerated in the table. However, this method does not provide a sample of informants residing outside Cebu City who are as clearly and uniformly contrastive to Cebu City informants anent development of their respective communities as we would like. Reputed sorcery victims residing outside the city who are enumerated in Table 6 came from diverse communities and were

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SOCIETY

141

diversely exposed to changes taking place in Cebuano society. Fifteen dwelled in municipalities bordering Cebu City; 18 in other municipalities in Cebu province; and 13 in other provinces. None of them was a resident of a city, but some had urban employment, mainly in commercial or industrial enterprises in or near Cebu City. Nevertheless, the group of sorcery patients residing outside Cebu City was decidedly more rural in its overall composition than the group of sorcery patients who lived in the city. This is clearly indicated by the fact that 31 of the 46 sorcery patients dwelling outside the city had rural occupations, or, if they were not employed, lived in households where the principal means of support was a rural occupation (in 26 cases, farming; four, fishing; and one, collecting tuba). In contrast, only three of the 22 sorcery patients living in the city followed rural occupations (farming, two; collecting tuba, one). Therefore, although all the sorcery patients living outside Cebu City could not be classified as rural, most of them were, and the group as a whole was closer to the traditional Cebuano peasant way of life than was the group of sorcery patients who dwelled in the city. If we contrast these two groups of patients as to the reputed causes of the sorcery attacks, an interesting difference emerges. The number of marital and courtship cases is almost identical for both groups: 14 for those residing outside Cebu City and 13 for those living in the city. The big difference between the two groups lies in the number of cases in which an economic disagreement was said to have precipitated the sorcery, or in which someone's envy of an economic gain which the patient had made was supposed to have been behind the attack against him. There were 23 such economic cases among the sorcery patients who lived outside the city ( 1 1 of them involving disputes over land ownership, boundaries, or use, and the rest varied), as against only six such cases among sorcery patients who resided in Cebu City. Comments made independently by two men of Magatas, a rural barrio in Sibulan, can help us see this difference be-

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tween the two groups in perspective. They were discussing why some young men and women leave Magatas to go to Manila, Cebu, and other cities, and why some of those who go eventually return to the barrio. Their comments were quite similar. One, who only had been able to find temporary employment in Manila as a mechanic, had returned to Magatas, where he was a collector of tuba when I knew him. He told me that he liked Manila very much because of the wonderful things he could see there, but there were some things he also disliked. He said, " I f one has no money, he cannot ask from his neighbor. And if he has nothing to eat for breakfast, he cannot ask food from his neighbor. If we are poor in Manila, it's very hard. In Magatas, if you are poor with nothing to eat, you can ask from a neighbor." T h e other, a member of the municipal council of Sibulan, said that young people went to the city to work to get money to buy clothes, but when they marry they return to Magatas. He said that it was hard to support a family in the city. "But in Magatas, even if they have nothing, they can get help. In Manila, no one will even give them a banana." Even if we allow for some exaggeration for effect in the comments of these two men, their remarks do represent a generally held belief in this area that those in need of economic assistance are more likely to receive it from their fellow residents in a rural community than from those in a city. Although this belief may seem at first to conflict with our findings regarding the high number of sorcery cases involving economic disagreements among patients living outside Cebu City, by its implication it actually could help to explain our findings. For this belief may reflect not only a greater expectation of aid for the needy in the barrio, but also a greater possibility of resentment if aid is not given. To illustrate how possibilities of animosity may exist even in situations where expectations of generosity are fulfilled, or, to put it more realistically perhaps, how possibilities of animosity may help assure that the expectations of generosity

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are fulfilled, let us examine a conventional form of assistance to the needy in rural areas. In general, low productivity on small farm plots limits the acquisition of wealth in rural barrios, and obligations to kin and neighbors have some leveling effect on differences in wealth that do emerge between households. For example, one of the ways in which needy households acquire some of their food in Sibulan is by helping, at their own initiative, to harvest the fields of others. Frequently when a farmer is ready to harvest his crop, he is joined by a number of helpers, called manalabang, most of them from poorer households and most of them unsolicited. Although the majority of these manalabang are not needed, I never saw or heard of any of them being turned away and each receives about oneeighth or more of what he harvests. Various explanations were given me as to why a Sibulan farmer should share his crop with surplus harvesters: greed is not the custom of the community; grace should be shared with others; selfishness could bring the curse, gaba, upon one's head; and the good will of neighbors should be retained. Such institutionalized food sharing by means of unsolicited harvesting is reported from other Bisayan communities, both Cebuano and Hiligaynon. 30 Although farmers with fields to harvest apparently rarely refuse such assistance, this does not necessarily mean they welcome it. Here is the way Sibley describes the situation in a community in Negros Occidental: Harvesting the rice does not present serious problems of work partner choice for the farmer, because the harvesters tend to select themselves. Often, 50 or more persons arrive to harvest a one hectare plot (2.54 acres) and the farmer can only infrequently refuse any proffered aid. Payment for this work varies between one-seventh and one-ninth of rice actually harvested by each harvester. One attempts to harvest in the fields of one's relatives; 80 See Hart, op. cit., pp. 361-362; and Willis E. Sibley, "Work Partner Choice in a Philippine Village," The Silliman Journal, Vol. 4

(1957)» PP- ^ y - ^ 8 -

1

44

CEBUANO

SORCERY

for then, one's own one-seventh of the harvested product can be made bigger than each of the other six one-seventh shares, and the farmer can do little but mutter under his breath about being cheated. To complain aloud would be to denounce the cultural imperative that one assist his relatives.31 T o follow "the cultural imperative that one assist his relatives," and to retain the good will of neighbors are important means of building social credit, an important value of Cebuano society and of lowland Philippine society generally. Of this, Pal comments: " T o invest one's increased income in accordance with the economist's ideal is to risk the disappointment of neighbors and relatives. If a person has no investment in the gratitude of neighbors and relatives, he has no sense of security in a highly personalistic society. W h o will help him in time of need? W h o will fetch an ember or boil water for him when he is sick? W h o will carry his dead body to the grave?" 3 2 Acts of generosity contribute to security not only by building social credit, but also by helping to prevent enmities, and this, too, can be an inducement to assist those who expect it. Thus, Hart, writing about responses to manalabang in a Cebuano rural community in southern Negros, observed that one of the reasons why the harvesters' assistance is not normally refused is the "widespread belief in 'envious people.' 'Envious people' can do harm to one's person or crops through magic." 3 3 Obviously if economic cooperation is seen as protection by those who have trepidation about the envious, when cooperation is lacking, there are increased grounds for trepidation. Under these circumstances, suspicions of sorcery may occur. Economic expectations in the barrio are thus linked to the development of social obligations between kinsmen and neighbors in a small rural community. But these expectations 81

Sibley, ibid. ^Agaton P. Pal, "The Philippines," in The Role of Savings and Wealth in Southern Asia and the West, eds. Richard D. Lambert and Bert F. Hoselitz (Paris: U N E S C O , 1963), p. 329. 33 Hart, op. cit., p. 365.

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also reflect claims persons feel they have on resources in the community that are controlled by their kinsmen and neighbors. So long as claims are consistent with the accepted social obligations, conflicts need not arise; but if they are not, enmities may develop, and they may be expressed through sorcery. F o r example: Rufo was given permission by Gil to plant some bamboo on part of a plot of land owned by Gil. Rufo paid no rent to Gil, but did supply him with bamboo when Gil needed it. Rufo, a poor man, depended on sale of the bamboo trunks for part of his livelihood. When Gil died, Gil's son told Rufo that he would have to give up the bamboo grove, after which Rufo is supposed to have had someone sorcerize Gil's son. In a setting where people feel they have claims on resources controlled by others even when the controls are undisputed, such feelings are subject to acute inflammation when controls over economic resources are cloudy or contested. This factor is applicable to a variety of sorcery cases precipitated by economic conflict that came to my attention. For example, in one case a dispute occurred when the owner of a net used by another fisherman claimed more than his usual 50 percent of the catch because he said he had had to pay for repair of the net; numerous other cases involved land disputes, such as those discussed earlier. Characteristics of barrio economic relationships seem consistent with the rural Filipino view that good is limited, and therefore gains can only be made at the expense of others. This view, noted by Lynch, has been previously mentioned in Chapter 4. George Foster in his analysis of what he calls the "Image of Limited G o o d , " a concept which he believes dominates cognition in peasant societies generally, says: By "Image of Limited Good" I mean that broad areas of peasant behavior are patterned in such a fashion as to suggest that peasants view their social, economic, and natural universes— their total environment—as one in which all of the desired things in life such as land, wealth, health, friendship and love, manliness and honor, respect and status, power and influence, security and safety, exist in finite quantity and are always in short supply, as

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far as the peasant is concerned. Not only do these and all other "good things" exist in finite and limited quantities, but in addition there is no way directly within peasant power to increase the available quantities. It is as if the obvious fact of land shortage in a densely populated area applied to all desired things: not enough to go around. "Good," like land, is seen as inherent in nature, there to be divided and redivided, if necessary, but not to be augmented.34 No more striking example of the pertinence of these observations to Cebuano rural life can be seen than in the case of a woman who was supposed to have been sorcerized because her household wanted to build a sailboat to use in fishing. Her grandson took the measurements of someone's boat, which angered the owner. It was explained to me that old people believe that certain measurements of a house, boat, and the like bring good fortune when the object is used, and those who have the luck to possess something with good measurements do not want others to copy them because this might "jinx" the object. Here, good fortune, which like other resources is in limited supply, cannot be reproduced but only redistributed, so that if one individual gains luck, this can only be at the expense of that possessed by another. Foster, who associates the peasant's view of Limited Good with low productivity and restricted opportunity for wealth in peasant societies, observes that in the perspective of those who have this view, disadvantaged individuals or families are regarded as a threat, since their envy, jealousy, or anger may result in overt or hidden aggression toward those who are more fortunate 3 5 (and who could have gained only at the expense of the disadvantaged). Envy serves as a ready-made, and sometimes complete, Cebuano explanation of why sorcery occurs. No overt dispute is necessary to account for an attack in these circumstances. To illustrate: 34

George H. Foster, "Peasant Society and the Image of Limited Good," American Anthropologist, Vol. 67 (1965), p. 296. Italics are Foster's. 35 Ibid., p. 302.

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Caridad, whose husband was a farmer, had been ill for five months. Caridad's husband said his older brother was envious of him, but he did not know w h y this was so, since they inherited the same amount of land and had the same standard of living. Caridad and her husband were building a new house, and they and the mananambal thought this might have strengthened the envious feelings of Caridad's brother-in-law and his wife, and thus provoked the attack. S o m e t i m e s a mananambal

m a y explain a sorcery

attack

s i m p l y b y a t t r i b u t i n g it t o s o m e o n e w h o was envious

of

t h e p a t i e n t , w i t h o u t s p e c i f y i n g t h e c i r c u m s t a n c e s or t h e person responsible for t h e a t t a c k . S u c h a n i n t e r p r e t a t i o n is virt u a l l y self-confirming w h e n there is susceptibility to suspicions of e n v y . T o l d b y a mananambal

t h a t h e h a d b e e n sor-

cerized b e c a u s e a n u n n a m e d n e i g h b o r w a s envious of h i m , o n e old m a n , a retired farmer, said, " I h a v e a n e i g h b o r w h o fits t h a t d e s c r i p t i o n . " E n v y , t o b e sure, is n o t c o n f i n e d to t h e countryside; it is f e l t a n d suspected in C e b u C i t y as w e l l , a n d it m a y also b e a f a c t o r in sorcery there. Maxima, w h o operated a small store selling sundries in a C e b u C i t y market, was a putative sorcery victim. She blamed her condition on Eva, a competitor, who, M a x i m a said, was envious of her occupying the best place in the market area. Furthermore, according to Maxima, Eva owed her money, and they had quarreled about this. H o w e v e r , e n v y was m e n t i o n e d less f r e q u e n t l y in c o n n e c t i o n w i t h sorcery cases i n v o l v i n g C e b u C i t y residents t h a n t h o s e living outside t h e city, a n i n d i c a t i o n t h a t p e r h a p s , o n t h e w h o l e , e n v y appears less t h r e a t e n i n g to t h e u r b a n t h a n t o t h e rural C e b u a n o p o p u l a t i o n . It is u s e f u l to e x a m i n e this possibility in c o n n e c t i o n w i t h the views of C h a r l e s E r a s m u s c o n c e r n i n g w h a t h e calls " i n v i d i o u s s a n c t i o n " a n d " i n v i d i o u s e m u l a t i o n , " p h e n o m e n a w h o s e relative p r e v a l e n c e h e associates w i t h differences in e c o n o m i c d e v e l o p m e n t . " T h e strictures of invidious s a n c t i o n w e a k e n as t h e o p p o r t u n i t i e s

to

possess g o o d s spread w i t h i n a p o p u l a t i o n . M e n b e c o m e m o r e interested

in

emulating

each

other's

consumption

habits

J48

CEBUANOSORCERY

than in pressing for redistribution. As invidious emulation takes precedence over invidious sanction, the importance of conspicuous ownership grows, while conspicuous giving decreases." 3 6 Trends in this direction are discernible when Cebu City is contrasted with rural Cebuano communities. This is not to exaggerate the city's development, nor its prosperity. Most of the modern economic growth in the Philippines has been concentrated in the Manila area, and unemployment is fairly high in Cebu City, as it is in other urban communities. Nevertheless, the development of trade, transportation, commerce, and some industry, as well as associated growth in the professions, opens up more economic opportunities in Cebu City than are found in rural areas. W h e n young men and women from Sibulan and other rural communities go to cities seeking the chance to acquire goods ordinarily inaccessible to them in a rural economy, many of them are frustrated in the attempt. But opportunities for short-term gains in possession of consumer goods, as well as for longer-range improvement in standards of living, are greater in the city than in rural communities, and social mobility in the Philippines is primarily an urban phenomenon. 37 T h e more dynamic system of social stratification and the sharper social class distinctions in cities are indicative not only of more opportunity for "Charles J. Erasmus, Man Takes Control (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1 9 6 1 ) , p. 135. 87 See Robert B. Fox, "Social Organization," Area Handbook on the Philippines, University of Chicago for the Human Relations Area Files, Vol. 1 (1956), p. 452; and Agaton P. Pal, The Resources, Levels of Living, and Aspirations of Rural Households in Negros Oriental, Community Development Research Council, University of the Philippines (1963), p. 225. In his book, The Filipino Manufacturing Entrepreneur (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1965), John J. Carroll, in analyzing the social origins of Filipino industrial leaders, comments that it appears " 'getting off the land' is an essential first step toward entrepreneurship in manufacturing—a step usually taken by the grandfather or father of the entrepreneur" (p. 74). Interestingly enough, Pal finds that in the Dumaguete area "there has been a steady movement of the landed gentry from the surrounding towns into the city." (Agaton P. Pal, "Dumaguete City, Central Philippines," in Pacific Port Towns and Cities, ed. Alexander Spoehr [Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1963], p. 14.)

S O R C E R Y

AND

CEBUANO

SOCIETY

149

acquiring wealth in urban areas, but also of less equalization and more display of what is produced than is the case in the countryside. T o quote an observation of Pal's that we noted earlier, as far as people in rural neighborhoods are concerned, " T h e desire to make contacts pleasant in these face-to-face contacts has encouraged them to minimize the differences in their material possessions." 38 It is against this background that our evidence of lower prevalence of sorcery cases among C e b u City patients should be considered. For freer assertions of economic advantage in the city seem to be related to some mitigation of sanctions against such assertions. As there is a tendency for economic motivations and social status to be increasingly geared toward the acquisition and utilization of new wealth, rather than toward redistribution of what is already possessed, expectations of others with respect to the economic resources one controls may appear less threatening, and consequently the possibility of sorcery becomes more remote. CONCLUSION

Land, courtship, and marital cases discussed in this chapter indicate that the occurrence of sorcery or suspicion of it in Cebuano society is linked to deficiencies of social control. In such cases, legitimate social sanctions are inadequate to prevent serious social discords or to provide mutually acceptable means of settling such discords. W h e n this is so, an illegitimate sanction, such as sorcery, may be utilized or feared. However, the use or fear of sorcery as an alternative to other sanctions, is related not only to whether other sanctions are available or effective, but also to whether they are needed to keep the peace. Thus, with regard to the problem we have been discussing, so long as there are strong expectations by those disadvantaged in an economic situation that there should be 38 Agaton P. Pal, " T h e Philippines," in The Role of Savings and Wealth in Southern Asia and the West, eds. Richard D . Lambert and Bert F. Hoselitz (Paris: U N E S C O , 1963), p. 342.

150

CEBUANO

SORCERY

redistributions of existing wealth to benefit them, behavior which contravenes these views threatens discord, and sanctions that can effectively inhibit such behavior are significant elements of social control. However, as these views begin to diminish in importance so does the need for sanctions to enforce them in order to maintain social control. And as other sanctions become less relevant to the situation, so does sorcery. T h e fact that our evidence indicates a decrease in the importance of sorcery in the most developed and rapidly changing community in Cebuano society does not necessarily imply the converse: that the most "traditional" or conservative Cebuano communities have the highest rate of sorcery cases. Although there is no proof, I suspect that this is not so, but rather that there would be a higher incidence of sorcery in communities "somewhere in between," in which there is a stronger residue of traditional expectations of behavior than there is in communities most influenced by modern developments, but in which there is some erosion of traditional, legitimate sanctions that enforce such expectations. Certainly the rural sorcery cases we have considered do not come from populations cut off from currents of change. Sibulan's proximity to Dumaguete City and the contact that some of its residents have had with larger urban communities have exposed its people in varying degree to centers of change in the Philippines. The fact that rural patients traveled to Cebu City for treatment by mananambal is some indication that they are not among Cebuanos most isolated from influences of change. This study, however, does suggest that at some point changes which characterize the development of Cebuano society reduce the prevalence of sorcery. Growing utilization of modern medicine is an important factor in this situation. But the evidence also indicates that certain social as well as medical aspects of Cebuano development make sorcery a less relevant explanation of illness.

Appendix Additional Sorcery Methods

Angyaw: The sorcerer goes to an "enchanted place" where he communicates with the spirit who assists him in his practice of malign magic. The sorcerer has with him a black male chicken, a blowpipe and darts, a bottle of igdalaut, branches of the mangungkong, balalanti, and kanomay trees, and a piece of nito vine. After writing the name of the intended victim on a piece of paper, the sorcerer binds the paper to the left leg of the chicken with the nito vine, and uses the rest of the piece of vine to tie the chicken's leg to a branch of one of the three trees that has been stuck in the ground. He takes one branch each of the other two trees and places these two branches on either side of the branch to which the chicken is tied. The sorcerer then calls to the spirit, saying, "Please help me in this." He then utters the name of the intended victim, tells what he has done wrong, and finally says to the spirit, "Kill this person." First dipping each of them into the igdalaut, the sorcerer then blows three darts into the chicken, one under each wing and one into the throat, prefacing each shot with the words, "May the victim die just like this chicken." After this, the victim has pain on both sides of his body and in his throat. Other results are determined by the spirit: e.g., the victim may have an accident, such as falling down the stairs. To be effective, angyaw must be performed on a Friday, either at noon or eight o'clock in the evening. Antiwil: This is done at the instigation of one who believes his spouse or lover is unfaithful. The sorcerer kills a male and female turtle while they are having sexual intercourse; he takes their joined genital organs and mixes them with other ingredients (unspecified). The concoction is then wrapped in a very small piece of cloth which is fastened secretly to a piece of the in-

CEBUANO

SORCERY

tended victim's clothing. If the intended victim has sexual intercourse while wearing this garment, the partners will be unable to disengage after the sexual act. If the first person to see the joined couple immediately takes off all his clothes, the sorcery will lose its effectiveness. This form of sorcery is called antiwil in Sibulan; it is sometimes called sampakati in Cebu City. Aralan: This method employs an aralan, a device with an iron blade used for cutting abaca. Some part, possession, or other representation of the victim (e.g., something with his fingerprints) is covered with seven leaves each of the mangungkong, balalanti, and kanomay trees and is wrapped in a black cloth. The cloth is then placed under the blade of the aralan, and the blade is brought down on the cloth without cutting through it. This form of sorcery is not designed to kill the victim, but to make his body ache all over. Ban-ok: In ban-ok, a spirit intrudes objects, such as sand, stones, blades of grass, glass, dog or cat hairs, chicken feathers, or insects, into the body of the victim. The spirit may do this on his own, or at the instigation of a sorcerer. Among the symptoms of the victim could be rashes, skin ulcers, loss of weight, constipation, and insanity. Butabuta: Buta means "blind," and this method of sorcery is intended to cause the victim to lose his sight. A representation of him is placed in a butabuta shell; 1 igdalaut is then poured into the shell, which is placed in the stove under a fire that burns seven branches each of the mangungkong, balalanti, and kanomay trees. Dagpi: The term dagpi means "rap with the palm of the hand." Two informants, both from Cebu City, discussed this type of sorcery, and their information was limited. Both agreed that the attack is effected by simply touching the victim, who then becomes ill, and whose body swells. One informant said that before touching the victim, the sorcerer puts some kind of powder under his fingernail. The informant did not know the composition of the powder, but he said an imprecation was spoken over it before the attack, and the powder was thereby charged with "power words, from the devil." Dongsol: Dongsol is the name of a sea animal (Dolabella sp.?).2 A representation of the intended victim and parts of the mangungkong, balalanti, and kanomay trees are wrapped in a black cloth, and the bundle is inserted in the mouth of the animal, which expels a reddish liquid when it is touched. After this sor1 was unable to secure such a shell for scientific identification. ' I was unable to secure a specimen of this animal.

1

APPENDIX

eery takes effect, the victim has no pain or fever, but he hemorrhages, particularly when he is touched. 3 Gibuang: The term gibuang can be translated as "caused someone to become insane." There are two ways in which this type of sorcery can be performed. (1) Three hairs are secured from the victim, one from each temple and one from the top of his head. These hairs are put in a container and stirred counterclockwise.4 (2) A hair from the head of the intended victim is tied around a small piece of wood or anything that floats, and this is placed in a whirlpool found in a river or a brook. Gisal: The term gisal means "fry." The sorcerer secures lard from a pig slaughtered in a novena for a dead person. He then takes a piece of very sour citrus fruit, suwa nga kamugao (Citrus hystrix), and cuts it, but not all the way through. After inserting a photograph or some other representation of the victim into the open fruit, he closes the fruit and pierces it with the stinger of an unborn ray. Before frying the pierced fruit in lard, the sorcerer utters the intended victim's name and says, "Now I am going to fry you, and what will happen to this thing in the oil will also happen to you." After the fruit is cooked, it is placed in a black cloth and hung over the fireplace. The victim of this kind of sorcery has burning pain all over his body. Haplit: I was told by an informant from Sibulan that this is the name in that area used for the type of sorcery performed with a doll that is called paktol in Cebu City (see Chapter 3). A Cebu City informant described haplit as follows. A representation of the victim is tied to a candle, near the tip, with a black strip of cloth. The sorcerer then pours a special oil (ingredients unspecified) over the cloth strip, and he says, "Now I am going to turn my back to God because I have a victim to 3 In a description of Philippine beliefs of the eighteenth century, Friar Thomas Ortiz speaks of a form of sickness called bongsol, which was said to be caused by a sorcerer and could be cured by securing another sorcerer to treat the patient. (Thomas Ortiz, "Superstitions and Beliefs of the Filipinos," in Emma H. Blair and James A. Robertson, eds. The Philippine Islands, Vol. 43 [Cleveland: A. H. Clark, 1906], p, 108.) 4 A similar method of sorcery has been described for the Tinguian of Luzon. "Evil magic known as gamot ('poison') is also extensively used. A little dust taken from the footprint of a foe, a bit of clothing, or an article recently handled by him, is placed in a dish of water, and is stirred violently. Soon the victim begins to feel the effect of this treatment, and within a few hours becomes insane." (Fay-Cooper Cole, The Tinguian: Social, Religious and Economic Life of a Philippine Tribe, Field Museum of Natural History, Anthropological Series, Vol. 14, No. 2 [1922],

P- 3°5-)

1

54

CEBUANOSORCERY

kill." Following this, while lighting the candle, he says, "Now I am going to kill you." If the sorcery is effective, "the candle cracks, blood comes from the wrapping around the candle, and the victim collapses." If he is taken to a physician, "his illness will be diagnosed as a heart attack or high blood pressure." Hoklub: The sorcerer makes a doll of hard wood and dresses it in black, with a red sash tied diagonally across its chest and a red belt around its waist. The sorcerer is also dressed in black. He takes a stick and uses it to strike various parts of the doll which correspond to the parts of the victim's body that the sorcerer wishes to affect with the attack. Lumai: This is a term used for various ingredients employed in amatory magic.5 None of my informants professed to know any of these ingredients, but one did tell me some of the components of a mixture for counteracting lumai: ginger, garlic water from two parts of a stream where it divides, a piece from the cover of a toilet ("it is odorous"), whiskers of a dog and a cat ("they are always fighting"), and a piece from the gate to a s At different times during the colonial period, Spanish observers described Bisayan beliefs in lumai. Thus Alcina speaks of lumai as an amatory herb, a plant with large leaves, that is mixed with oils and small roots that look like hairs. He also reported an attempt of a woman to use lumai against him, without success. (Francisco Ignacio Alcina, Natural History of the Location, Fertility, and Character of the Islands and Indians of the Bisayas. Compiled by the Father Francisco Ignacio Alcina of the Society of Jesus After More Than Thirty-Three Years of Ministry In and Among Them. [Dated] 1668. Translated by Paul Lietz. M S . pp. 369-370.) Pavón states that certain amatory herbs (tangistangis, tagulilong, tagulisang, amigos, tuncos) are mixed with oil made from the nut of a solitary coconut tree which faces toward the east, and the oil, which is then filtered and placed in flasks, is called "lumay." (José María Pavón, The Robertson Translations of the Pavon Manuscripts of 1 8 3 8 - 1 8 3 9 . C — T h e Ancient Legends of the Island of Negros: Book Second. Transcript No. 5-C. Philippine Studies Program, Department of Anthropology, University of Chicago [1957], pp. 8 - 1 1 . ) Pavón describes the employment of lumay as follows: " I n order to use it, choose (the time of) a new moon, or of the waning or crescent quarter. Place a little of it on the palm of the hand or on the hair of the woman. When one is talking with the woman, he should try to select a place where there is a current of air, so that she may breathe in the vapor and the odor of the preparation. Its effects on her are almost instantaneous. Of what they say I can assert nothing with truth, for they say that as soon as she perceives it, she will follow her lover like mad. These Indios assert strongly the truth of the results of this recipe, but I have never seen them" (ibid., pp. 1 1 - 1 2 ) .

APPENDIX

»55

cemetery ("that is where the individual goes on his last trip, so he will never come back again"). Maldisyon: T h e term is borrowed from Spanish and means "curse." First an imprecation is said. Then 13 candles are broken into pieces, starting from the tip of each candle and going toward the bottom, "so that sickness will start at the top of the head and spread down to the feet." Palakad: T h e term may be translated as "let something be walked over." In this method, the sorcerer gets a match, puts it in oil and has a mock baptismal ceremony in which the match is given the same name as the intended victim. T h e match is then placed where the intended victim will walk over it, and when he does, he "collapses." Palata: Palata means "cause to rot." In this method of sorcery, a human skull is utilized. T h e sorcerer wraps a representation of the victim in a piece of cloth, which is then either inserted in an opening in the skull, such as an eye socket, or wrapped around part of the skull. It is possible to sorcerize several people simultaneously with representations of the intended victims placed in or on the skull. T h e color and placement of the cloth vary according to the kind of damage the sorcerer wishes to inflict. For example, a yellow cloth placed in the eye socket of the skull will cause the victim's eye to water and run with puss; a green cloth will cause the eye to rot; and a black cloth placed anywhere on the skull will cause death. After the skull is prepared, the act of sorcery takes place at noon, eight o'clock in the evening, midnight, or three o'clock in the morning. Candles are burned before the skull, an imprecation is said backwards, and a prayer is said for the soul of the victim as if he were already dead. This procedure is followed for nine days in a row. If the sorcery does not take effect by this time, the same procedure is followed for three more days, and if there is still no effect, the prayer for the intended victim, as well as the imprecation, is said backwards for 13 days. If a victim of palata "repents his wrong," the harm being done to him may be stopped by the following procedure. T h e sorcerer and his victim go to a cemetery where there is a church or a chapel. T h e sorcerer crawls on his knees from the cemetery gate to the altar three times. During these progressions to the altar, he repeats the imprecation and prayer used during the sorcery, saying each of them the same number of times that was necessary before the sorcery became effective. As the sorcerer reaches the altar the third time, the victim stands before the crucifix. T h e sorcerer hands the victim the representa-

CEBUANOSORCERY tion used in the sorcery (e.g., a photograph of the victim, or a piece of paper with his name written on it). The victim burns this, and as he does so, he asks God to forgive him for the wrong he has done, and he promises that his behavior will be good in the future. Following this, he asks God to remove his illness. Panghasol: The term means "cause someone to become disturbed." The sorcerer gets a full-length photograph of the victim, and he uses scissors to cut the intended victim's figure out from the rest of the photograph. He uses this figure as a model for making a paper doll of the same size and shape. He writes the name of the intended victim on the paper doll, wraps the paper doll around the figure cut out of the photograph, and puts a piece of black cloth around this, fastening it with 1 3 pins. This bundle is put in an earthen pot, the top of which is then covered with a large leaf of a banana plant or a badyang plant, and this is secured with a strip of black cloth that is tied around the top rim of the pot. Thirteen more pins are then inserted in the leaf, in the form of a cross. The pot is then shaken to make the victim ill. If the sorcerer wishes to cancel the effects of panghasol, he removes the pins from the leaf and the black cloth, uses red instead of black cloth to wrap the cutouts (which are placed back in the pot) and secure the leaf covering of the pot ("because red is the color of happiness"), and says a special incantation when he shakes the pot. A variant of panghasol is pahuot. One of the effects of pahuot is swelling, and the term pahuot can be translated as "cause to fit tight" (e.g., as a shirt that is too small would). The procedure for pahuot is the same as that for panghasol except that in the former, sea water, as well as the wrapped cutouts, is put in the pot, and the pot is thrown into the sea. The abdomen of the victim swells at high tide. Salak: The object of this form of sorcery is to make others, such as one's opponents in an athletic contest, tired. The mixture used is said to include more than 50 ingredients, but my informant knew only a few of them, including pieces of garlic, ginger, dulaw, paloypoy, mangungkong, balalanti, and magdopong (Uncaria sp.). If this mixture is wrapped in a black cloth and secreted somewhere on the individual's person, his opponents will tire as soon as he confronts them. Samsam: After the sorcerer finds a cluster of seven coconuts on a tree, he removes one of the coconuts each Friday for seven consecutive Fridays. Following this, he cuts a hole in each of the coconuts and plugs it with a piece of the biyanti tree (Homolanthus populneus). The seven coconuts are then buried in the ground, and they are dug up one at a time on seven consecutive

APPENDIX

1

57

Fridays. Each of the biyanti plugs is then soaked in oil made from a coconut that is the only one found on a tree. After the biyanti plugs are soaked, the sorcerer puts the oil on his teeth, and when he sees his intended victim the sorcerer merely has to direct some words toward him and the latter will "turn blue and collapse." It is claimed that samsam will work when all other methods of sorcery fail. Tuyob: The sorcerer finds a place where his intended victim has urinated. He speaks the name of his intended victim and says, "You have done me wrong, and this time you will pay for what you have done." He then says the Credo, and when he gets to the part about the nailing of Jesus to the cross, he sticks the stinger of a ray into the place where his intended victim urinated. The individual victimized by this form of sorcery has pain and difficulty urinating. Two other methods of sorcery, for which no name was given, are as follows: ( 1 ) A wax doll representing the intended victim is hung from a tree with hairs from the head of a dead woman. The doll can be made only on Good Friday. Branches from the mangungkong, balalanti, and kanomay trees are burned under the doll so that the smoke reaches the doll. A thorn is then pushed into the doll in a place which corresponds to that part of the victim's body the sorcerer wants to attack. During this procedure, the sorcerer makes an offering to the spirit who backs his sorcery, and he invokes the spirit's assistance. (2) The sorcerer writes the name of his intended victim on a piece of paper which he wraps in a black cloth. He then asks the spirit who helps him to afflict the person whose name is written on the paper, and he promises the spirit that he will make an offering to him after the attack is accomplished.

Index Agnus, 32 Alcina, F. I., 211., 15411. Alipata, 53, 59 Amatory herbs, 15411. See also Lumai Amulets, 25, 36, 40, 43, 5if., 84, 91, 105. See also Mutya and Sumpa Ancestral spirits: as sources of illness, 44, 81, 91 Angyaw, 151 Antiwil, 40, 15if. Ants, 45, n o Aparele, F., 5on., 71 Aralan, 152 Arens, R., 2in., 66, 6 7 ^ , 68n., 6gn., 85n., 93 Aswang, 65s., 73, 75, 77ft. Azande, 6in. Badyang, 53, 156 Bagakai, 54 Bahagbahag, 59^ Bajang, ^2n. Baldanti, 53, 56, 58ff., 15if., 156f. Balbal, 68 Bdikbalik, 53, 62 B alisung, 53

Banaba, 94 Bangkonay, 58 Ban-ok, 152 Barang, if., 8, 44, 5off., 63, 84, 99, 109, 111, 136 Barangan, 34, 50, 113 Barrio councilors, 12 Barrio lieutenant, 12 Bayot, 136 Beck, W . S., 95n. Bees, 45, 50, 11 of. Beetles, 45, 5of., 63, 110. See also Tawak Beidelman, T. O., -j-jn. Bierstedt, R., 37n. Bisayan islands, 1, 2n., 7, 2in. Biyanti, 156t. Bohol, 8, 7m., 90 Bongsol, i53n. Botbot halenhalen, 58 Botete, 58 Buang, 35 Bughat, 122 Bulatao, J., io8n., i34n., i35n. Bulobulo, 111 Butabuta, 152 Buyag, 7iff. Buyagan, 7 iff., j&ft.

i 6o

CEBUANO

Cancer, 95, 99, 109, 1 2 3 Cannon, W . B., io6n. Canoy, N . R., 8 i n . Carroll, }. J., 1 4 8 ^ Catholics, 18 Cebu City, 4L, 9, 13ÎF., 33, 53, 55f., 6gff., 86, 88ff., 93, ioof., 1 2 1 , 1 2 7 , 1 2 9 g . , 1 3 5 g . , 147ft 152s. Cebu island, 8f., 14t., 45, 104 Cebu province, 18, 5on. Cebu Skin Clinic, 100 Centipedes, 45, 50 Cewa, i 3 o n . China, 98n. Chinese in the Philippines, 7, 1 7 Chirino, P., 32n., 33n. Cholera, 33, ç8n. Christ, 30, 57t., 1 5 7 Christian Philippine groups: Bikol, 8, 67n.; Cebuano, passim; Hiligaynon, 8, 1 4 3 ; Ilokano, 8, 6çn.; Pampangan, 8; Pangasinan, 8; Samar-Leyte, 8; Tagalog, 8, 6711. Christian symbols, 3 i f . , 40, 62, 83f. Cirrhosis, 99, 109 Class distinctions: rural, iof., 143, 149; urban, 10, 1 7 , i48f. Codere, Helen, 6n. Cole, F . C., i 5 3 n .

Compare, 36 Coroscoros, 58

Countersorcery, 49, 52, 60, 1 1 9 Credo, 57, 1 5 7 Cressey, P. F., i6n. Crops, n Cuenco family, 18 Cutshall, A., 9n., i28n.

Dagpi, 152 Dalongdong, 2n. Da-ut, 31, 65

Davao, 16 De Loarca, M . , 2n. De Morga, A., 32n. Devil, 2 1 , 3 i f . See also Satan

Dita, 94 Dongsol, 152L

SORCERY Donoghue, J., 86n.

Dulaw, 58, 156 Dulot, 22

Dumaguete City, 9, i2n., 1 3 , 22n., 86, 88, gaf., 98, logf., 128, 1 3 1 , i48n., 1 5 0

Economic assistance, i42ff., 1 4 9 ^ Education: as an influence on choice of medical practitioners, iooff., 1 3 9 Eggan, F., 2n. English, 62, 70 Erasmus, C . J., 4 1 » 47- 5 2Íf -> 59f-> 98> 1 0 4> io6ff., 1 5 i f f p e r s e v e r a n c e of, 3, 6, 18; and political rivalry, 1 2 7 ; and power, 20, 3 1 , 33Íf., 42f., 4Óf.; practitioners, 4, igfF., 638., 76, i03ff., 1 1 8 , 1 5 1 f t . ; principles of technique, 49, 57f.; and a quarrel over livestock, n 6 f . ; and quarrels over money, 1 1 8 , 1 3 2 , 147; and refusal to testify in court, 1 2 6 , 1 3 2 ; and social control, i24ff., i 3 3 f f . , 149^; and societal development, 5L, 137ft.; and theft, 24, 34, 127; and a threatened loss of luck, 146; and vandalism, 34, 1 2 7 ; victims, 4, 20, 22, 24ff., 28f., 34, 36ff., 47, 5iff., 76, 83f., 103ÉF., i26ff., i3iff., 1368., 145s., 15 iff. SOTOSOTO,

53

Southeast Asia, 7 Spanish missionaries, 3 i f . Spanish period in the Philippines, 2, 1 4 , 3 1 Í , 1 5 3 ^ , 154m Spencer, J. E., 1 2 8 Sumpa, 84. See also Amulets Suwa nga kamugao, 1 5 3 Swanson, G . E., 1 2 5 Takod sa ongo, 69, 96. See also Salab Tan, C . , 44, 45n., 56n., 66n., 68n., 6gn., 7on. Tanner, R . E . S., i37n. Tartanillas, 1 7 Tawak, 51, 83. See also Beetles Taylor, E . S., 34n. T B , 47, 95. See also Tuberculosis

Tigi, 1 1 0 Tilad, 22 Tinguian, i 5 3 n . Tuba, 22, i 4 i f . Tuberculosis, 47. See also T B Tutoh, 74 Tuyob, 1 5 7 Ulcers, 99, 1 1 6 , 1 1 8 , 1 3 6 U.S. administration of the Philippines, 3, 86, 128 Usik: a form of sorcery, 50, 53t., 109; a form of witchcraft. See Buyag Usik daginut, 54 Usikan: sorcerer, 54, 7 1 ; witch. See Buyagan Valenzuela, A. V . , 88 Vanoverbergh, M., ççn. Violence: against suspected sorcerers and witches, 4, 24f., 1 3 1 Wakwak, 68 Wallace, W . J., 34n. Waray-waray, 6 7 ^ Wasps, 50, 59. See also Kolonkolon W a x , M . and R., 61 Weber, M . , 37 Weevils, 50 Wemstedt, F . L., i5n. Whiting, B . B., i24n., 1 2 5 Winstedt, R., Ç2n. Winter, E . H., 3n., i37n. Witchcraft: and aggression, 34; distinguished from sorcery, ôçf., 76®.; and envy, 79; as inversion of norms, y-jf.; perseverance of, 3; victims, 6 1 , 66ff., 83 World W a r II, 9 8 n . Zambales, 7 Zamboanga, 16