Tree People of the Philippines – Dwende

Text and Context

DA (informant) – We have the dwende in the Philippines (I think a lot of cultures have them, even Guam). They’re kinda like dwarves and they live in anthills, tree stumps, stuff like that, which is why growing up we were taught to ask for permission before entering the woods.
My mom told me my brother got really sick to the point that they had to go to the hospital, but they couldn’t tell what was up. Apparently he peed on a tree stump and it pissed off the dwende living under it and it cursed him. He was fine in the end though. (laughs)
Interviewer – How were you supposed to ask permission to enter? And what might happen if you didn’t? Similar to what your brother experienced?
DA – You would say, “Tabi tabi po” which basically means “excuse me.” And yeah, it’s so you don’t get cursed in case you happen to disturb their home by stepping on them or something.
Interviewer – Is there anything you can do to lift the curses of the dwende?
DA – Yeah! Witch doctors (in the Philippines: albularyo, in Guam: suruhanu). First they see what’s causing whatever you’re feeling. Usually with melted candle wax and a bowl of water: they let it drip and the hardened wax would form into who caused it. And they tell you what to do based on that. But I don’t really know much about this part.
DA – I remember whenever I got sick as a kid, my mom and my grandma would bring me to an albularyo. She would do this ritual with candles over my head, but I don’t remember much.

Analysis

The informant was telling me about where they had grown up, including the Philippines and Guam, spurred on by an art project that drew upon magical creatures.
The dwende are little tree spirits who, if you disrespect, will cause harm to you, but if you are polite to them, they will leave you alone. I have heard similar stories of the tomten from my own Swedish heritage, who could cause trouble if the inhabitants of the house did not leave them offerings or respect the coexisting tompte.
Belief in the dwende demands respect and politeness for nature, as a dwende could be under any tree one passes. Dwende curses could be lifted by healers who had mastered traditional remedies and were also deeply woven into the traditional Filipino culture. There is a particular saying that can grant you access to these spaces without harm, which lets the dwende you mean no harm to them.

Traditional Arabic Dish – Koosa and Ejeh

Text/Context

EM – Koosa is a traditional Arabic dish. First, squash is hollowed out using a special scoop. My grandmother uses a scoop that belonged to her mom and grandmother. The squash is stuffed with a seasoned ground lamb meat and rice mixture and cooked in a tomato soup seasoned with spearmint.
And of course the squash seeds can’t go to waste, so they are salted to draw the water out and squeezed to drain as much as possible. They are then mixed with eggs, parsley, onions, and Syrian pepper to make an omelette-like batter. They are then deep fried into little cakes called ejeh. Fun to make and heavenly to eat.
Interviewer – Any special occasions to eat these recipes?
EM – We usually make koosa and ejeh in the summer when we can get fresh squash from the farm.
Interviewer – Are they always made side-by-side? Do you eat them at the same time in the same meal or do you eat them separately?
EM – Sitto (Arabic word for grandmother) doesn’t always make ejeh, but when she does, its always with koosa. We don’t usually eat them together, though. I like ejeh as a snack or breakfast, and koosa is always lunch or dinner.
Interviewer – If your grandmother has the special scoop, can no one but her make them “properly” or do you use whatever scoop you have? Is the scoop actually made specifically for koosa, and what does it look like?
EM – There are other scoops out there. I have my own, but Sitto’s is special because it’s been passed down. I don’t actually know if anyone uses the scoops for anything else but we call it a koosa scoop. It’s a long metal half-tube basically.
Interviewer – Does someone make them better than anyone else?
EM – Sitto makes them the best.
Interviewer – Have you learned both of the recipes?
EM – I know the recipe fo koosa, but not ejeh yet.
Interviewer – Do these recipes feel culturally significant to you personally, or are they just food you are glad you get to eat? Do you feel connected to your family through these recipes?
EM -The recipes are culturally significant to me because I feel close to my family when we make and eat them.
EM – All of my family’s recipes are either in our heads, or in the case of ka’ak and other desserts, the recipe is written down but no directions are given, so the only way to learn to make them is to observe and learn from our elders making special bonds and memories

Analysis

The dishes are usually made in the summer for maximum freshness. Because I collected the story during the winter, the story was not performed with the actual food but rather in a context of discussing favorite foods.
Koosa and Ejeh are examples of food connecting a person to their family and their heritage. The informant has never traveled to Lebanon, and knows only a few words in Arabic, but is proud of their heritage and feels connected when they learn the recipes that are passed down through family, learned by memory, and made with and for their family.

Jealousy and Forgiveness

Story: George, my great great grandfather, had a neighbor was jealous of him. The neighbor was very poor, and my great great grandfather would give him bread and water. He was so jealous that one day he just shot him – right through the forehead. According to my grandfather- but I should really ask my Yaiya who knows the story better- after he shot George, he felt so much remorse for killing a kind man – he begged my great, great grandmother for her forgiveness, and she did forgive him- and he became so depressed that he never left his home and spent the rest of his life looking out across the road at George’s house.

Format: The informant told these to me in person, and I recorded them to better transcribe them later.

Context: The informant was told these stories by their father, who was handed down these stories from his father, who was told some of these stories by his father. They are stories about the informant’s great great grandfather, George, and the village he is from. The informant feels as if this story is bittersweet, and did not have much else to say about it.

Analysis: I believe that this legend shows the immense capacity for kindness that the informant’s ancestors had and show what someone is capable of when they truly care about others, but in the same story you hear about the worst that humanity can do, and where their minds are capable of going. It feels like a cautionary tale.

Work in the Tavern

Story: One story I remember, that was told to me my my father, that was told to him by my grandfather by one of his uncles, is that when George was about 10 years old and working at the tavern and he was so tired – I mean he was ten – that he sat at one of the tables one night at the very back of the tavern – so his legs were up like this so it looked like he was awake *demonstrates* – and put his head down on his arms and fell asleep. His boss found out, and sprinkled red pepper on his arm – right here *mimes* – right under his nose. When he inhaled, he inhaled the pepper which burnt the inside of his nostrils and woke him up in tears. Needless to say, he never fell asleep at work again!

Context: The informant was told these stories as bedtime stories by his father, who was handed down these stories from his father, who was told some of these stories by his father. They are stories about the informant’s great great grandfather, George, and the village he is from. The informant told these to me in person, and I recorded them to better transcribe them later.

Thoughts: When asked what this story means to them, the informant shrugs, and said they were told this story as a child, and even back then it made them want to work harder and be more like George. “He must’ve been exhausted from working so hard, right? I mean, what was I doing at ten years old?”

Analysis: Listening to this story, I was a bit shocked. My family doesn’t have any stories about our ancestors, and this informant had several! (Not all are included.) However, this struck me as folklore for the lesson that has become imbedded into it throughout the years and generations who have told them. This particular story, never put your guard down or show weakness.

You get what you get

Story: ‘You get what you get, and you don’t get upset!’ That’s the saying I heard countless times over my elementary years. Every time we got popsicles, prizes, books, or markers, it was always that saying – it didn’t matter if you got a flavor you hated, and the person next you you got your favorite. I hated that saying.

Context: The informant told me this particular story over text, and they heard this saying from teachers, their parents, and camp counselors.

Thoughts: The informant says this stuck with them because they always hated hearing it, especially since it usually meant that they couldn’t switch out whatever it is they has in the moment. However, they acknowledge that now, looking back, they understand why the saying was used by so many teachers of theirs.

Analysis: I also heard this as a kid! I also wasn’t the biggest fan, but I think the saying taught a very valuable lesson of learning to be happy for others, even if you aren’t for yourself. That seems super important to learn from an early age, especially since later in life it is so common to deal with feelings of insecurity over other people’s accomplishments.