A Eulogy: Of the Mothman, Higad Season, and Killer Sting Rays

Disclaimer: All facts about the Mothman and the circumstances of Steve Irwin's death were plagiarized from Wikipedia.

I. Lore: Everybody Loves a Conspiracy

The Mothman is one of the more famous figures of modern cryptozoology. Described as a six- to seven-foot tall humanoid creature with moth-like, flight-capable wings, its claim to fame was when it appeared to at least a dozen people in West Virginia in the late 1960s. Shortly after, the Silver Bridge – which connected West Virginia and Ohio – collapsed, bringing down 47 people with it. These events inspired the 2002 film, The Mothman Prophesies.

Several theories have arisen to explain what the Mothman is, and perhaps more importantly, why it appears to people. The most feasible explanation is that the witnesses all mistook a large bird – perhaps a Great Horned Owl, a Great Grey Owl, or a Sandhill Crane – for a humanoid figure with wings. However, the more sensational (and hence more interesting) explanation is that the sightings were modern apparitions of a moth-like creature that figures in the mythology of some Far Eastern and Native American tribes – that of a “pre-ordained, archetypical” entity which tries to warn humans about impending heinous crimes at “pivotal moments in mankind’s cyclical history”. This is the interpretation that the aforementioned film seems to sell.

I think that I’m actually starting to believe in it.

II. Analysis: Mothbabies? Mothboys?

I saw three higads today.

Higads are the general Filipino term for any species of hairy moth caterpillars (sometimes called itchyworms in other cultures), which tend to cause a range of annoying to severe skin allergies on any human beings who are unfortunate enough to come into physical contact with them.

To say that I am frightened of higads is an understatement. I absolutely despise, abhor, loath, scorn, hate them. Aside from my extreme phobia of jellyfish (I almost died from a jellyfish sting), they are the creatures that I hate the most. Just seeing one makes my neck break out in rashes. And yet, they seem to love me. I’ve been predisposed to higad attacks since starting formal schooling, you see, and they have this tendency to land on any patch of skin that I leave bare – underneath my collar, on the front of my neck, on my nape, or on either arm – and crawl a couple of feet around my body before I actually notice that they’re there, and at which point I break out in nasty red hives which only an overdose of antihistamines, three good baths, and two bottles of calamine lotion seem to cure. And it certainly doesn’t help that I now study in a school whose campus practically crawls with higads from August to October every year.

I saw my first higad while running to my Theology class from the West parking lot. It was rather small - hanging conspicuously from a tree in the courtyard between De La Costa and the SocSci building - and so I easily avoided it, secretly scoffing to myself that I got the best of it.

Nothing eventful happened directly after that.

I saw my second higad after my Operations Research class. It was 10:30 AM, and I had an 11:30 interview in Makati, so you probably imagine how badly I was rushing. I sprinted to the car from my classroom in JGSOM, jumped into the driver’s seat, and as I was just about to turn on the engine I noticed this huge one-and-a-half inch long higad on the windshield right in front of me. I couldn't stop thinking how disgusting it was – dude, it had these beady black eyes on its front end and a yellow forked slimy tail on the other. It made me cringe, so I turned my wipers on and flashed my secret, evil smile while I watched it get steamrolled to higad hell.

Bad move, Jonat. Let’s just say that – in spite of twenty minutes of continuous wiper operation and draining my car’s whole store of water-detergent mix – there’s still a sickly green streak on my windshield.

And my Shell interview for the Gourami Business Challenge – well, I completely bombed it. I got stuck in traffic, got lost, and had trouble parking, so I arrived almost twenty minutes late, which practically guarantees that I’m not getting the slot. And the interview itself – God, it only lasted fifteen minutes. That was the weirdest interview I’ve ever sat through. It made me feel really bad, though.

The idea of the higad sightings being portents of doom came to me while I was smoking my post-interview cig in the parking lot. Maybe they served the same purpose as the Mothman, only on a smaller, more trivial scale. Maybe when you see them you’re supposed to say to yourself, “Hey, something bad might happen to me today. I’d better keep my guard up.”

True enough – less than five minutes later, a crazy bus driver almost sideswept me off Ayala Avenue (one more inch and he would’ve ripped my right side mirror off). That pissed me off so I drove right beside him, rolled down the window, and gave him the finger while screaming: “Putangina mo, gago! Marunong ka ba magdrive, tangina ka bumaba ka nga para sagasaan kita, impakto! Puta ka, ano sumagot ka, leche”, which I can’t really sorry translate into English without retaining its impact, sorry. Anyway, the asshole didn’t go down to talk to me, but I felt better anyway, so I drove on.

I got to school uneventfully (relatively. that is – I saw a white M5 on McKinley Road which drove slower than my mom, what a shame; and still took the wrong exit from The Fort and ended up on the south-bound lane of C-5), and arrived at least five minutes early for my next class, so I decided to hang out in the CTC SPG while waiting for the bell.

My friend Javin was there, and the first thing he did when he saw me was to pull his collar down to reveal a huge red higad rash. I laughed at him, saying that I had a few close calls that day too, while lighting up a cig. A few puffs later, my roommate Tony comes along and asks for a light; I didn’t have my lighter with me, so I handed him my cig. And get this – when he returned my cig to me there was a fucking higad on his hand! What the fuck. That was the tipping point. I told him to keep my cig, and I ran for cover in my classroom.

Things suddenly made sense to me. Higads – moth babies – are mini Mothmen, sent to both torment and shock us into becoming more aware of the crazy, dangerous world which we live in. And being me, I just felt that I had to share my epiphany with the world, and so I was composing this entry in my head while driving from school back to the condo.

III. Fact: The Mothbabies’ Message

I was in my condo lobby, waiting for the elevator to reach the ground floor, when I got a message from my baby brother, who never ever texted me before.

namatay si steve erwin :(

Shocked, I replied: Ha? Ano? Teka check ko yung internet. Paano daw?

He replied: jellyfish raw

I found out later on that he died because a stingray’s barb pierced his chest (allegedly lethally piercing either his heart or a lung) while he was filming an underwater documentary. He was forty-four.

I swear that I was almost brought to tears when I heard that. Steve Irwin cannot die. He is invincible, and I expected him to live forever – like Batman, Ozzy Osbourne, and Imelda Marcos – and yet he died. Because of a fucking sting ray. Hell – it wasn’t even a shark or a crocodile – it was a motherfucking sting ray.

And yet he’s dead. I may have always made fun of his redneck-ness and his stupid accent, but deep down I was envious of him, because he was doing his heart’s delight and he was undeniably happy because of it.

I wish I could say that about myself.

So here’s to Steve Irwin, to childhood heroes, and to lives well-lived – CHEERS.

Rest in peace, mate.