Philippines. Barangay Bawangon[1]. May 08, 2007.
The day began with a crisp sunshine, a sign of a hot festival. The street turned into a colorful race of madness—pedicab floats with chicken wings, giant fried rice and eggs, and a float made from glued-together cooking oil gallons. It seemed like the villagers were showing off art, livelihood, and a bit of craziness.
At the front, a drum and bugle corps played Britney Spears' "Toxic," arranged like Christmas music. Behind them, majorettes twisted their hips almost out of joint as they danced. One dropped her baton and her mother shouted from the sidelines, "Fix it, you're embarrassing yourself!"
But no one really stole the spotlight except for the elf truck carrying the candidates for Binibining Bawangon 2007[2]. It was like a club promo night—makeup on point, tight jeans, and white t-shirts printed with "I LOVE Bawangon." They waved, but some seemed unsure where to look—left, right, or at their own reflection in the side mirror.
Behind the elf truck was a pick-up truck that looked like a campaign vehicle. There was Barangay Captain Raul Masalin, the barrel-chested father of the village. With him was Madame Olivia, his spouse who could never just be called "missus"—there had to be a "madame," or else, you know. Holding the umbrella was Jane, the barangay secretary/liaison officer/treasurer/auditor/laundry lady/cook/umbrella holder for the captain and madame. Jane's neck was sunburned but it didn't matter—her sunscreen was thick.
After the parade came the feast! Ten—yes, ten lechon[3] lined up on a long plastic-covered table. They came from Sir Felix Tan, the local big-time businessman with a quarry business. The other food? Contributions, solicitations, and a bit of miracle from the barangay treasurer—who was also Jane.
The VIPs were at the front. Father Rey, the parish priest, looked more excited about the crispy lechon skin than the prayers. "Lord, thank you for the blessings. And thank you to our Barangay Captain who tirelessly makes this feast possible, and to Sir Felix—may more quarries... I mean, projects—open soon." he said.
"Amen!" came the unanimous reply.
Less than five seconds after the prayer, the crowd surged forward. No "ladies first," no "senior citizens priority"—everyone just rushed. Councilor Lito was like a ninja. He carried a big plastic cellophane bag and grabbed the head of a lechon as if he had a personal vendetta.
Inside the barangay office, air-conditioned and exclusive, the officials dined. "Captain, I never miss a single fiesta here." Father Rey said as he took a bite of the lechon skin. "It's like I'm at a buffet in heaven."
"That's exactly what I always tell my husband," said Madame Olivia. "People need to feel like they have a captain—not just see some pretty face on a tarpaulin!"
The celebration was interrupted when Jane walked over, sweating and holding a cellphone. "Captain, we have a problem. One of the pageant judges can't make it—there's an emergency," she said.
"I'll do it," said Madame Olivia. Everyone turned to her.
"That's right," the Captain agreed. "Madame it is. She used to be a beauty queen. 1957, right?"
"1977," Madame corrected, adjusting her hair. "Third runner-up. Miss Photogenic. And Best Performer."
"Perfect," the Captain grinned. "Looks like we already know who's going to win—Sir Felix's daughter, of course! If you bring the lechon, you get the crown too!" Everyone laughed.
"He's even more blessed with all his projects," added Councilor Lito, holding a pig's foot. "He's about to open another quarry near the river—good thing he got the municipal permit."
"Of course, his business is a big help to our barangay[4]," added the Captain. "There's jobs, development, and free lechon."
"By the way, Father," the Captain turned to Father Rey, "how's the complaint from the indigenous people about the quarry? What did your brother— the mayor— say?"
Father Rey sighed as he carefully put the lechon bone on his plate. "He didn't mention anything to me. But maybe… he already talked to the indigenous people, or maybe... he silenced them," he replied.
For a few seconds, the table fell silent, but only briefly before the conversation quickly shifted back to the raffle and who should win Binibining Bawangon 2007.
That evening, there was a wooden stage in the middle of the plaza—slightly tilted but sturdy. It was decorated with colorful flowers and paper cutouts like those used in Flores de Mayo: white, pink, yellow, and violet. Behind it hung a somewhat wrinkled tarpaulin: BINIBINING BAWANGON 2007 – Beauty, Intelligence, and Faith.
From a rented sound system on the side, loud music blasted—a remix of a novelty song with occasional shouts from the emcee: "Testing, mic test! Check one two, one two, yeah!"
After the pageant? There was a disco for the youth. Minors only. Supposedly secret. But everyone in the barangay already knew.
The night was windy. The cold bit a little, the kind that made you want to hug yourself. Above, stars scattered here and there; the moon was half, seeming hesitant to peek out.
In front of the stage was a row of plastic chairs in red, blue, and white—borrowed from the covered court. A few early arrivals were already seated, but most were still standing at the edges, hoping to squeeze in when the program started.
And in the middle of that chaos—stood Jane.
Thin, wearing a tank top, holding a plastic container for coins. Her eyes were sharp, like a barangay watchman born to collect fines. At just one glance, you knew no one would get away.
She immediately noticed three kids sitting in the middle row.
"Three pesos per seat," said Jane, like a movie theater cashier.
"So we have to pay for this?" complained one, frowning slightly.
"If you don't have the fare, leave."
No drama— the kids immediately stood up. But those who had money? They seemed lucky—rushing to claim seats that were still unoccupied.
"We have three pesos!" Almost all at once, they placed their coins into Jane's palm.
To the left, a boy remained seated. He and Jane locked eyes. The wind blew, tousling his hair. Jane said nothing, but it felt like they were speaking without words.
"I just wanted to sit," the boy whispered, almost pleading. But eventually, he stood and slowly walked away.
Behind them, three middle-aged women stood near the halo-halo stand. One of them, Aling Linda, was fanning herself with a cloth embroidered with Siquijor1998.
"Girl, why is Lourdes's daughter even in the pageant?" she asked, swatting a mosquito from her neck.
"Aren't you cold?" asked Aling Myrna, who was wearing a thin cardigan.
"It is cold, but wasn't it scorching earlier? That's why I brought this fan." She glanced back at the stage. "But wait—didn't she get pregnant in Manila? Didn't even finish college?"
"Yeah, the baby's just three months old," chimed in Aling Helen, holding a spoon and a cup of ginataang bilo-bilo. "She left the baby with the dad, just so she could join. Maybe that's the prize for Binibini this year—the one who forgets the fastest."
"Let's see if she really looks like she just gave birth," Linda sniffed.
Like children on a mission, the three approached the front. They found empty seats. But of course—before they could sit down, Jane blocked them. No words needed. She just lifted the coin container.
Three pesos. Each.
The women grimaced. But no complaints.
That's how tough Jane was.
The wind changed— from gentle to gusty. It was as if something whispered around, though no one was nearby. Papers on the table started to lift, and some decorations on the stage fluttered in the air.
"It looks like it's going to rain," said Captain Raul, looking up at the sky.
"We will just pray," Father Rey replied. "There's nothing in the forecast about rain this week."
The program continued. Finally, Binibining Bawangon 2007 began. An emcee who looked eager for the spotlight suddenly took the stage.
"Fellow villagers! Let's give a big round of applause for the beautiful candidates of Binibining Bawangon 2007!"
Ten young women appeared, wearing summer outfits—crop tops and shorts—and almost simultaneously walked around the small stage set up in the middle of the plaza. The audience got noisy with cheers, and the nervousness caused by the weather seemed to momentarily fade.
"And there you have it—the lovely candidates of Binibining Bawangon 2007!" said the emcee. "But that's just a teaser. You'll get to see more of them later. For now, let's listen to a message from the most active, most supportive, the most competent, hardworking, and very down-to-earth Barangay Captain of Bawangon—none other than Barangay Captain Raul Masalin. Let's give him a big round of applause!"
The crowd clapped and shouted again.
Captain Raul stepped up, a bit nervous from the sudden strong wind but forcing a smile. Holding the microphone, he glanced at Madame Olivia seated upfront—his look full of confidence.
"The weather isn't exactly cooperating," he said, his clothes flapping in the wind. "Before I begin, let me pay respect to our honorable mayor of San Jose, Mayor Gardo 'Tata' Abrio, and his wife, our vice mayor, Vice Mayor Carmen Abrio. To our barangay officials, guests, and of course our parish priest Father Rey Abrio, who is still celebrating with us tonight. And to everyone in Barangay Bawangon, a lively good evening to all of us!"
LIGHTNING.
THUNDER.
Everyone looked up at the same time. Sudden. Close. The flash of lightning exploded across the sky, followed by thunder that shook the entire plaza.
Barangay Captain laughed, but it was clear he was startled.
"The heavens are greeting us too," he joked, but no one laughed.
Lightning and thunder came one after another, accompanied by strong winds. People there began to get worried. A makeup artist peeked from backstage and asked herself, "Will this still continue?"
Another lightning.
Louder.
Seemed dangerously close.
Someone started shouting from the audience. Some ran, but most remained rooted to their spots, as if frozen.
Madame Olivia suddenly stood up. "What's happening?" she asked.
No one answered yet.
A scream tore through the silence.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
From the middle of the audience. A woman looked like she had a fever in the middle of the night—shivering, stumbling backward. The tanods[5] rushed over. Father Rey immediately ran toward her.
"It's Jane!" a councilor shouted. "That's Jane!"
But when Father got close, she immediately recoiled.
Jane was vomiting—coins.
Literally. Pesos. Shiny pesos spewed from her mouth like a fountain of fate's mockery. One after another. Tossing onto the cement. You could hear the clinking sounds as the coins rolled on the ground.
"Is there... what is—what is this?" Father Rey muttered, barely able to believe what he saw.
The people, even more puzzled, started to panic.
Chaos erupted.
Some children cried, some elders worried.
At the other end of the stage, another scream.
A councilor—holding his own hands, trembling, his eyes wild.
"My hands!" he shouted. "My hands!"
When people looked—
His fingers had turned into electrical wires—black, bent, crackling slightly with static, as if they carried electricity.
No one was silent.
And to the right of the stage—a woman, a barangay official, fell to her knees. Her skin seemed to shine, slowly becoming glossy… until…
Glass.
Her entire body looked like crystal. You could see right through her inside—her guts, her blood, her heart behind the glassy skin.
Father Rey stiffened. No prayer was strong enough for a sight like this.
"Father!" Madame Olivia shouted. "What are you doing? What is happening?!"
And in the midst of the chaos, amid the wind, thunder, and lightning—a sound filled the plaza.
TING!
Father Rey slowly walked back to the front, watching the people who were panicking and changing forms—some people's hands and feet turned into rats. Some parts of their bodies became scarecrows, others grew fly wings. There was even a man whose head became a balloon, suddenly flying up into the sky.
Father Rey clutched his rosary tightly—as if the heavens would fall if he let go. His palms grew cold, his fingers trembled. He couldn't explain the fear, nor the sudden pounding of his chest.
"The Barangay Captain!" a woman shouted from the crowd, her prayer almost a scream.
"The Barangay Captain… has become a lechon! My God!"
Father Rey looked back toward the stage, and there—there he saw the nightmare he never included in his sermon.
Barangay Captain Raul stood there, and his head… his head was round, red, and shiny—like it was freshly taken from the roasting spit. Between his neck and shoulders, the lechon head was smiling.
Some people screamed. Some fainted. Father Rey was frozen. He made the sign of the cross, but his body had no strength. His prayer became a ritual of helplessness.
One step backward.
Another.
He didn't know if he should run.
He didn't know if this was a dream.
All he knew: something was wrong. Something evil. It was as if the sky had opened. And Barangay Bawangon—was slowly being flooded by a curse.
[1] Village of Bawangon
[2] A beauty pageant -- "Miss Bawangon 2007"
[3] A roasted whole pig. A famous dish in the Philippines.
[4] village
[5] barangay guards