#ProjectLarawan. Profiles of the Filipino. One portrait at a time. Project Larawan is an initiative of Gabriel “Gabby” Malvar, a documentary filmmaker, writer and photographer, whose narratives are nuanced with unique, inventive perspectives to provoke an inquisitive look at his favorite subject, the Philippines. Become a part of Filipino identity every other Saturday on the DAILY TRIBUNE.

“Tabi-tabi po. Nakikiraan po.” Excuse me. Just passing through. The words flowed out continuously as I maneuvered from one exposed appendage to another knot within the hollowed-out trunk of the massive balete tree. Making my way to the top of the tree utilizing vines, branches and roots as grips and foothold, I was concurrently seeking the indulgence of its residents -- dwende, engkanto, tikbalang, kapre and other elementals and spirits harbored in the cavities and ancient branches. My superstitious upbringing guaranteed my familiarity with decorum with the infamous tree and its mystical creatures. I was deliberate with my behaviour around their lair, avoiding loud noises, crass words, sudden movements or anything that could be considered a provocation. I knew better than to unwittingly offend them lest some harm, illness or misfortune might befall me. | wasn’t taking any chances. I negotiated the vertical tunnel more preoccupied with supernatural notions than with the climb itself. I exited the core to an overhang where branches now shot upward along with twisting roots and coiling stems, lending itself to a languid and easy climb the rest of the way to the top.

The balete is known for its menacing nature. It cannot thrive on its own, its survival hinging on a nurturing host it destroys as it grows. Knotted tendrils eventually shrouded and overwhelmed the host, literally strangling the life out of the support tree, a hollow core the only thing that remains.

The type of beings that would inhabit such an ominous habitat would be similar in disposition to the dwelling place. Evil attracts evil, I suppose, comprehending the draw of the balete to malevolent creatures.

But I was not fooled by daylight. I knew the kapre and tikbalang were there, out of sight and hidden among the gnarled tendrils for now, more tolerant perhaps and passively taking in all the activity. Silent. And watching.

Perhaps I should return to climb the tree at night, in total darkness with only the light from a full moon to keep me company. In that less than ideal setting, what creatures may reveal themselves? Now that would be something else.