Welcome to Capiz: Not Just a Place, But a Legend
Capiz — a coastal province famous for its seafood and scenic sunsets — carries a deeper reputation among locals. To outsiders, it may seem like a sleepy town. But to many Filipinos, it’s known as the land of witches, aswangs, and mangkukulams. The kind of place where superstition lives not just in the stories of lolas, but in the way people move after dark.
Why Capiz?
Maybe it’s the thick mangroves that seem to whisper as you pass. Maybe it’s the quiet isolation. Or maybe it’s because too many things happen there that no one can quite explain.
One of those things?
The story of Aling Rosa.
The Midwife of Barangay Dungon
Aling Rosa wasn’t your average neighbor. She lived alone, without a husband or children. She didn’t chitchat at the sari-sari store, didn’t join barangay events, and yet somehow — she always knew when a woman was about to give birth… even before the woman did.
She was known as a healer. She cured fevers with crushed leaves. She helped breech babies come into the world like she’d done it a hundred times — and she probably had.
People called her “maparaan” — resourceful.
Others called her “delikado.”
She was helpful, no doubt. But she was also… different.
The Night Everything Changed
One stormy night, a child in the barangay fell dangerously ill — pale, freezing, and nearly unresponsive. The mother, desperate and drenched in rain, ran to Rosa’s hut.
Before she could even knock, Rosa opened the door.
She handed the mother a bundle of herbs and said only:
“Boil this. Give it to your child. And whatever you do… don’t let anyone in until sunrise.”
The mother obeyed.
But a neighbor, Mang Tibo — known for his loud gossip and wandering eyes — didn’t.
He crept up to the hut to take a peek.
What he saw made his knees give out.
Something Was Hanging From the Ceiling
Through the window, Mang Tibo saw a creature — black and crouched — hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat. Its eyes glowed red. Its mouth moved in a low, eerie lullaby.
In the corner of the room stood Rosa.
Just watching.
By morning, the child was miraculously healed.
But Mang Tibo?
He never spoke another word.
The Town Remembers Too Much
Suddenly, the barangay remembered things they’d brushed aside:
- The chickens drained of blood.
- The carabaos found gutted like lechon.
- The fact that Rosa never cast a shadow during full moons.
And because this is the Philippines, of course someone swore they saw baby oil in her house.
Not the Johnson’s kind — the kind “made from unborn babies.”
The Disappearance
A week later, a mob formed.
People held torches in one hand and rosaries in the other. They stormed Rosa’s nipa hut — but she was already gone.
Her home was burned to ashes. Her body? Nowhere to be found.
All they discovered buried in the ground was a small wooden box.
Inside: dried herbs, nameless bones…
And a mirror.
A mirror that smiled back — even when you didn’t.
The Legend Lives On
They say that if you walk through the Dungon forest at dusk, you might smell burnt guava leaves.
You might hear a lullaby — soft and familiar.
You might feel eyes watching you… even when you’re alone.
Some say it’s just the wind.
Others say…
“She’s still watching.”
Final Advice from Capiz
So next time you find yourself in Capiz, and someone offers you tea made from special herbs — smile politely and say:
“Salamat po.”
But maybe look up first…
Just to be sure.
