Happy Mother’s Day to the Sugar Sun Moms

It is interesting that all my heroines end up with babies in their arms (or their bellies) by the end of my books because I never chose to have children myself. My life may be an unfair comparison since I have had modern science to help me avoid parenthood. Women in the Gilded Age had limited access to contraception, even if they were married and had a sterling reputation. My heroes would have had some access to condoms—called male safes or preventatives in nineteenth-century America—but even these would be harder to order in the Philippines.

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But I may be missing the point here. All my heroines want babies. I feel their biological clocks ticking—tick, tick, TICK—even though my own is silent. Nor do I think babies are required for the HEA. Even marriage is not necessary. Nevertheless, the first thing I think about when writing an epilogue is: “What are the kids going to be named?” And I guess, when you get right down to it, this is part of the answer for me: I love names. I just love them. And I love naming future children and thinking about how that name will shape the kid as he or she grows up. I know, it’s weird. But here we are, with three heroines with (more than three) babies. And Happy Mother’s Day to them all, I say! And Happy Mother’s Day to you, even if like me your “child” has four legs and a tail. Or feathers. Or fins. Or whatever.

Let’s start with the latest novella, Tempting Hymn, which has a scene with a pet carrot…

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Here’s the epilogue from the opening novella in the series, Hotel Oriente:

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And since you’ve made it this far, I have a special treat for you: a snippet of Javier and Georgina’s daughter Pilar and son Jaime from the upcoming Sugar Moon. This is told from the point of view of Allegra Alazas, who visits her cousin-in-law Georgina after the birth of the second Altarejos child.

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You can find out all about Pilar’s “competitive” conception by reading Under the Sugar Sun. And doesn’t that sound like fun? Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

Sugar Sun series glossary term #26: aswang

Sugar was such a greedy crop, drinking the lifeblood of the soil like the aswang demons that peasants feared.

Under the Sugar Sun

With the popularity of the Twilight series—or, let’s get old school with Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles—I am surprised that more writers have not widened their paranormal worlds to include the macabre supernatural folk traditions of the Philippines.

Aswangs are lady vampires…on steroids. Though legends vary, the Aswang Project website has come up with three common characteristics in them all:

  1. The aswang’s diet consists mainly of human liver and blood;
  2. It has an unholy preference for unborn children; and
  3. It is also known to prey upon children and sick people.

Um, did you notice number two? Aswangs have been blamed for miscarriages and stillborn babies all over the islands. As this website describes:

When they know of a pregnancy…they would land on the roof of the pregnant woman’s home, and, trying to remain undiscovered, dig a hole to get inside. Once close, they use their razor-sharp teeth and their tongue that can stretch out as a thin wire to drink the blood and eat the fetus through the mother’s belly button…

Even worse, there is a related creature called a manananggal, who is a beautiful woman by day, but at night she detaches the upper half of her torso, sprouts bat-like wings, and flies around with her guts hanging out, looking for victims. This is serious stuff.

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A manananggal as pictured at Florente Aguilar’s guitar project site, Aswang: Tagalog Song Cycle.

The aswang legends are particularly popular in the Western Visayas region, near where the Sugar Sun series is set. In fact, when Silliman University in Dumaguete opened their first dormitory in 1903, people thought it was haunted with these very creatures. That would be enough to keep me home, thank you very much.

Why the Visayas? I do not think that it has anything to do with infant mortality rates, which historically were high everywhere. One theory is that Spanish Catholics spread the legends to vilify female folk healers, especially those in the interior of the southern islands. These pagan women were far away from the friars on the coasts and the Crown in Manila—and, therefore, they were not to be trusted.

You may be wondering, how are aswangs created in the first place? Getting bitten, like by a European-style vampire, is not going to do it. (You would just be dead, I think.) In the Filipino version, the dying aswang vomits up a small black chick—as illustrated below—which the aswang-to-be must swallow. Waiter, check please.

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Image from Erik Matti’s “Tiktik: The Aswang Chronicles,” found at the AswangProject.

In European folktales, like those of the Brothers Grimm, the big bad wolf is eventually punished for eating children. But the victims of aswangs get no such justice. (Maybe because carrying a child to term and then actually delivering it has been the most dangerous thing a woman could do for most of history.)

This is very dark stuff. I don’t write novels this dark, but someone should. Maybe a new paranormal venture from #romanceclass? I cannot imagine an aswang hero, but maybe you can convince me. Or maybe not.

Featured image from sweet00th at DeviantArt.com.

Update:

Yvette Tan of CNN Philippines wrote a nice article on aswangs, pre- and post-Spanish, even including the demons of World War II. The only thing she left out was the American CIA’s use of aswang fears to intimidate the Huks (communists) in 1950s Luzon. Interesting stuff.