Siquijor is known across the Philippines as a mystical island full of witches and supernatural phenomena.
It was once called the “Island of Fire” by the Spanish (who colonised the country for about 400 years) because it appeared to give off an eerie glow from afar, a phenomenon now attributed to the hoards of fireflies that inhabit the island.
There was even a theory that the island rose from the sea when an earthquake struck during a thunder and lightening storm.
The island is located in the Southern Visayas (the central grouping of islands in the Philippines) and close to Mindanao (the large island at the bottom that is always in the news). Made mostly of limestone and coral, the island makes up the third-smallest province in the country.
The people speak Cebuano, though Tagalog (the main language of the Philippines) and English are widely understood. Amazingly, despite the island’s remoteness, literacy rate is among the highest in the country, and the crime rate, the lowest.
Every year, folk festivals are held on Siquijor, where wizards and witches from all over the world (who travel under the guise of ‘herbalists’ and ‘natural healers’) congregate to swap potion recipes and legends about witchcraft on the island.
The island’s famous Folk Healing Festival is held on Black Saturday each year, on the island’s highest mountain peak, Mt Bandilaan.
The festival is meant to boost a positive image of Siquijor, helping to rid it of its persona of “Island of Sorcerers”, or the “Black Magic Island”, as it is commonly known in the Philippines.
Goin’ on a witch hunt
I wake up to a hot, sunny day. Not a cloud in the sky.
I manage to score a brand new bike for 25 pesos an hour (B18). Soon enough, I am flying down the highway (when I say flying, I mean I was doing about 35kmph).
The clouds suddenly look a bit ominous but I’m not going to let that stop me. Here I am, I think to myself, on the Island of Fire itself.
As I drive along, I notice a cemetery on the side of the road.
If there’s any cemetery in the world that ought to be studied for paranormal activity, it would likely be in Siquijor, and I think it an excellent opportunity to take a photo.
But as I do so, a motorcycle passes me – a father and his two sons. The little boy calls out in nearly perfect English: “Don’t take pictures of cemetery!” Oh. I wasn’t aware of that rule.
I make my way to Siquijor Town, where I ask around for ‘magic’. Seriously. It was a first for me, but without knowing the local language I had to keep my English simple. Funnily enough, they seemed to get what I meant.
A man named Rostem says he knows some people in the mountains, and offers to take me there for 100 pesos. I immediately agree. Rostem is not the most cautious of drivers, but I daresay he gets us there in good time.
The rain starts to come down as we roar up the mountain, but it is refreshing and I actually enjoy it. It’s a far drive – about 20kms from Siquijor Town. The trees seem to fly past us and there is a thick fog on the ground. We roar further up the mountain, passing a small gasoline shops on the way.
We approach an old concrete house with the TV blasting, and two very pretty little girls watching it and giggling. We climb off the bike and poke our heads in the open doorway.
“Do you do magic?” I ask, getting straight to the point. The house is roomy but the furniture is sparse.
“Just wait here,” replies a middle-aged woman wearing a tattered apron, who I take to be the Mama. So Rostem and I wait in the hard plastic chairs, and in about five minutes, Papa emerges from some room.
“Can you just check, you know, to make sure there isn’t anything wrong with me?” I ask.
He agrees. He runs his fingers across my back in straight lines, and blows onto it. It sends goosebumps across my upper arms.
He then proclaims that I have an allergy and should stop eating chicken and eggs, and hands me some oil that smells strongly of herbs and asks me to rub it on my stomach (keep in mind that the wife, two girls, and Rostem are all standing by, watching intently).
So I do, and then he draws the same straight lines again, applying very light pressure, and then declares my internal organs disease-free.
Next he asks me to make a donation to Sr. Santo Nino (baby Jesus). I leave enough for a couple bottles of Tanduay Rum.
As Rostem and I descend the mountain, the clouds part and the sun emerges once again. Once I drop Rostem off, I decide it is a great day for a ride around the entire perimetre of Siquijor (about 120kms).
And indeed, it was. The scenery was breathtaking, the people were all smiles and waves, and a very kind gentleman even gave me free coconut juice from his barrel.
I wondered why this island, with its stunning landscape and white sand beaches isn’t a more popular holiday destination. Then I remember the witches.
When I get back to my resort, I am rewarded with a gorgeous sunset of pinks and purples to go with my fish curry. I congratulate myself on my bravery and ability to find witches, promising to return to Siquijor one day for a folk festival, when I can really get my witch hunting on.
How to get there
Fly from Manila to Cebu via Philippine Airlines or Cebu Pacific. From there, boats leave every day from Cebu (oceanjet.net), stopping first in Dumaguete, and then in Siquijor.
When to go
The island’s dry season is from January to May, and it is wet for the rest of the year. The Folk Healing Festival takes place around Easter of each year.
Koh Phangan-based Kaila Krayewski is the Managing Director of BlondeTraveler.com, a travel support service for women travelling and living in Southeast Asia.