Author Archives: Halah Shamdeen

Pagpag

Nationality: American
Age: 57
Occupation: Homemaker
Residence: Chino, California
Language: Tagalog/English

Title: Pagpag: When coming from a wake, a Filipino practice would be not to go home straight away as it is believed that the soul of the dead would follow one back to their house. One may stop anywhere one pleases as long as one does not go straight home.

Context: “It’s a really common belief in the Philippines. Basically, after attending a wake or a funeral, you’re not supposed to go straight home. You have to stop somewhere else first, like a restaurant, a friend’s house, or even just a store before heading back. The reason behind it is that if you go directly home, the spirit of the deceased might follow you, bringing bad luck or misfortune to your household.

I first learned about pagpag from my family when I was a kid. Anytime we attended a wake, my parents would always say, “We have to stop somewhere first, or the spirit will follow us home.” It was just something we always did, even if it was just stopping at a convenience store for a few minutes. I remember once asking my mom if skipping pagpag would actually cause something bad to happen, and she just said, “Better to be safe than sorry.” That really stuck with me because even though she wasn’t superstitious, she still followed the practice out of habit and respect for tradition.

Now that I’m older, I don’t fully believe in the supernatural aspect of it, but I still do pagpag whenever I attend a wake. It’s just ingrained in me at this point. Plus, I’ve noticed that even people who don’t believe in ghosts or spirits still follow it, mostly out of respect for elders or to avoid any potential bad luck. It’s one of those folk beliefs that continues to be passed down, even if people aren’t sure whether it’s real or not.”

Analysis: Pagpag is a prime example of folk belief in the Philippines, reflecting deep-seated cultural values about death, the afterlife, and spiritual protection. At its core, this practice serves as a ritual of separation, ensuring that mourners do not bring lingering spirits into their homes. This aligns with broader funerary folklore, where many cultures have traditions meant to protect the living from the influence of the dead. The belief that a spirit may follow someone home reveals an underlying fear of unresolved energy, a common theme in folklore that deals with death and the supernatural.

From a folkloric perspective, pagpag also functions as a preventative ritual, reinforcing the idea that small actions can influence fate. Even though many modern Filipinos may not fully believe in the superstition, they still follow it out of cultural habit or respect for elders, which shows how folklore persists even as belief systems evolve. Additionally, pagpag reflects the communal nature of Filipino traditions, where shared practices around death strengthen social bonds and provide comfort during mourning. Ultimately, it demonstrates how folk beliefs help people navigate uncertainty, providing a sense of control in the face of death, one of life’s greatest unknowns.

Sukob

Nationality: American
Age: 57
Occupation: Homemaker
Residence: Chino, California
Language: Tagalog/English

Text: Sukob: If two siblings (or sometimes even first cousins) marry within the same year, it is believed that one or both marriages will be unlucky, resulting in financial struggles, sickness, or death.

If a child gets married in the same year that a parent or grandparent dies, it is also considered bad luck, as it is believed to bring misfortune to the family.

Context:
“It’s a really well-known superstition in the Philippines. Basically, if two siblings (or even first cousins) get married in the same year, it’s believed that their marriages will be unlucky. People say it could lead to financial struggles, sickness, or even death. There’s also another version of sukob that says if someone gets married in the same year that a parent or grandparent dies, it brings bad luck to the whole family.

I first heard about sukob from my family when I was younger. I remember my aunt was supposed to get married, but she had to wait until the next year because my other aunt had already planned her wedding. My grandparents were really strict about it and didn’t want to risk bad luck. It was one of those things that everyone just followed, even if they weren’t superstitious.

Even now, some people still take sukob seriously. I know some families who will purposely delay a wedding just to avoid it. Even me and my husband were not able to get a Christmas wedding because my husband’s oldest sister had their wedding scheduled earlier that year. We had to wait for January so our weddings would not fall on the same year.”

Analysis: Sukob is a powerful example of folk belief in the Philippines, reflecting deep cultural values surrounding family, fate, and the supernatural. At its core, this superstition highlights the importance of harmony and balance within the family unit, a key aspect of Filipino culture. The idea that two weddings in the same year could bring misfortune suggests that major life events must be carefully spaced to maintain order and avoid upsetting spiritual forces. Similarly, the belief that a marriage following a death brings bad luck reflects a respect for mourning periods, reinforcing the idea that certain events should not overlap out of reverence for both the living and the dead.

From a folkloric perspective, sukob functions as a cautionary tale that influences real-life decisions, much like other folk beliefs meant to guide behavior. It operates as a form of social control, ensuring that traditions are followed and family members prioritize collective well-being over individual desires. Even though some people no longer believe in sukob, many still follow it out of cultural respect or fear of tempting fate. This demonstrates how folklore persists and adapts, continuing to shape traditions and beliefs even when its original supernatural explanation may no longer hold the same weight.



Don’t give empty wallets

Nationality: American
Age: 57
Occupation: Homemaker
Residence: Chino, California
Language: Tagalog/English

Text: Don’t give empty wallets.

Context: In the Philippines, we have a superstition that you should never give someone an empty wallet or purse as a gift. If you do, it’s believed that the person will struggle financially or always have an empty wallet in the future. Instead, you should always put at least a small amount of money inside, like a coin or a bill, because it symbolizes prosperity and ensures that their wallet will never truly be empty.

I first heard about this from my parents when I was younger. Anytime someone in my family gifted a wallet, they would always slip a little money inside. I remember one time my uncle gave me a really nice leather wallet for my birthday, and before handing it to me, he made sure to put a few pesos in it. He told me, “Money attracts money,” and that starting with something inside the wallet would bring good luck and financial stability. It’s something I’ve always remembered.

I still follow this tradition today. Even though I don’t really believe in superstitions, I think it’s a meaningful gesture. If I ever give someone a wallet, I always put at least a small bill or coin inside, just to continue the tradition. I also feel like it makes the gift feel more complete, like I’m not just giving them an empty item but setting them up for success. And honestly, even if someone doesn’t believe in it, who wouldn’t want a little extra money with their new wallet?

Analysis: The belief that you should never give an empty wallet as a gift is a folk superstition rooted in the idea that money attracts money. By placing a small amount of money inside, the giver symbolically ensures the recipient will always have financial prosperity. This practice reflects a broader cultural emphasis on luck and abundance, similar to traditions like giving red envelopes in Chinese culture or placing coins in a new home for good fortune. It highlights how folk beliefs often provide rituals for ensuring success and warding off misfortune, especially in areas like financial stability, which can feel uncertain.

As a folk custom, this belief is passed down through generations, often reinforced by family members who practice it out of tradition rather than strict superstition. Over time, its meaning has evolved, while older generations may see it as a true protective measure, younger people often continue the practice out of respect or habit. This demonstrates how folk traditions persist and adapt, maintaining their cultural significance even as beliefs shift.

Nazar (Blue Evil Eye)

Nationality: American
Age: 50
Occupation: Homemaker
Residence: Dallas, Texas
Language: Arabic/English

Title: نَظَر‎

Romanization: Nazar

English Translation: sight, surveillance, attention

Context: The nazar, or evil eye is a deeply rooted folk belief that has been passed down through generations in many cultures. When I was younger, I saw it as a real force, something that could cause harm if you weren’t careful. People around me treated it seriously, using folk objects like the blue eye amulet. This is why we say Mashallah after complimenting someone, as we don’t want to place any bad or envious energy on them.
As a folk object, the nazar charm functions as a physical object that embodies cultural beliefs and practices. The evil eye charms are commonly worn as jewelry, displayed in homes, or placed in cars to provide protection. Even though they are small, their presence carries deep symbolic meaning. They serve as a constant reminder of the belief that unseen forces, like envy or negative energy, can influence our lives.
Beyond the object itself, the belief in the evil eye is reinforced through folk narratives, stories of sudden misfortunes blamed on envious glances, or tales of people who used protective symbols to escape harm. These stories serve as cautionary tales, warning people to be mindful of their successes and to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves. As I got older, I stopped believing in the nazar in the same way. Even though I don’t personally believe in it anymore, I still respect its role culturally as a symbol of how people use objects to explain and control the uncertainties of life.”

Analysis: The nazar boncuk, or evil eye charm, is a classic example of a folk object a tangible representation of a widespread belief system that transcends generations and geographical boundaries. It exists as a material expression of the folk belief in the nazar, or evil eye, which is found in Middle Eastern, South Asian, and even Latin American cultures.

As a folk object, the nazar serves a protective function. People wear it as jewelry, hang it in their homes, place it on newborns, or even attach it to animals and possessions to shield them from harm. The object’s blue color and eye-like shape are significant, blue is traditionally seen as a protective color in many cultures, and the eye shape is thought to reflect or “block” harmful gazes. These characteristics demonstrate how folk objects often incorporate symbolic imagery to reinforce their purpose.

Beyond its protective role, the nazar also functions as a marker of identity and tradition. Its widespread use connects individuals to their cultural heritage, making it an object that carries both personal and communal meaning. Even people who may not strongly believe in the evil eye still wear or display the charm as a nod to their cultural roots.

Like many folk objects, the nazar has evolved over time. Traditionally made of glass and handcrafted, modern versions are now mass-produced in different styles, including bracelets, necklaces, keychains, and even phone accessories. Despite these adaptations, the nazar still carries its original protective symbolism, showing how folk objects can maintain cultural significance even when their form changes.

The nazar is deeply embedded in folklore, not only as a physical object but as part of a larger belief system that includes folk narratives, superstitions, and rituals. The act of saying Mashallah after a compliment or tying a black thread on a baby’s wrist are examples of verbal and customary folklore that work alongside the nazar charm to reinforce protection against the evil eye.

Photo of Nazar:

Time is like a sword

Nationality: American
Age: 50
Occupation: Homemaker
Residence: Dallas, Texas
Language: Arabic

Orignial Script: الوقت كالسيف إن لم تقطعه قطعك 

Romanization: alwaqt kalsayf ‘iin lam taqtaeh qiteuk

English Translation: Time is like a sword. If you do not cut it, it will cut you

Context: “I first heard this saying when I was younger, probably from my parents or elders in the family. It was something that was repeated in conversations about being disciplined and making the most of my time. Back then, I didn’t fully understand its weight, but as I grew older, I realized how true it was. It wasn’t just a phrase, it was a reminder, almost like a warning, that time doesn’t wait for anyone. If you don’t take control of it, it will slip away before you even notice. For me, this quote has always meant that time is precious, almost like money, you have to spend it wisely, or you’ll regret wasting it. It shaped the way I think about productivity and responsibility. When I was in school, I would hear this and remind myself to focus on my studies instead of putting things off. It’s a saying that stuck with me because it makes you realize that time isn’t something you can control, it keeps moving whether you do something meaningful with it or not. If you don’t take charge of your time, life will move forward without you, and you’ll be left wondering where all the time went. So I always try to be mindful of how I spend my days. I think about this saying often, and I’ve even repeated it to others when I see them struggling with time management or feeling like they can just put things off. It’s a lesson I carry with me, and I hope you do too.”

Analysis: From a cultural perspective, this saying emphasizes the importance of productivity and time management, which are deeply rooted in many societies, particularly in Middle Eastern and Islamic traditions. Many classical Arabic proverbs stress the value of hard work, wisdom, and self-discipline, often framing time as something that must be controlled rather than wasted. This reflects a broader worldview where time is seen as a finite resource, and one’s success is directly tied to how well they manage it.

From a historical standpoint, the use of the sword as a metaphor is significant. Swords were historically symbols of power, precision, and urgency. By comparing time to a sword, the proverb suggests that time, like a weapon, must be wielded skillfully, or else it will turn against the person who fails to take control of it. This imagery evokes a sense of duty and urgency, reinforcing the idea that individuals must take action in their own lives or risk being “cut down” by wasted opportunities.

This saying operates as a verbal tradition, a piece of wisdom that is passed down orally and becomes embedded in the cultural consciousness. Proverbs like this are often repeated within families and communities to teach younger generations essential life lessons. In this case, the proverb serves an educational function, warning people of the dangers of procrastination while promoting discipline and self-control.