How to survive Ghost Month
“I don’t believe in ghosts, but I am afraid of them.” — Edgar Allan Poe
August arrives over the Philippines like a wet, threadbare curtain—humid, rainy and smelling faintly of floodwater, frying garlic and political promises.
Though not religious, I am a Christian. I believe in God, miracles and the resurrection. But not every bad day requires a ghost.
When “Ghost Month” (from Aug. 13 to Sept. 11 this year) arrived, I ate pandesal with two eggs and coffee or hot choco, said my prayers and turned on the news—only to discover that politicians frightened me more than any aswang.
At least the aswang has the decency to reveal itself.
So here is my practical Ghost Month survival guide: keep the useful traditions, laugh at superstition, and use common sense.
Don’t start something major if you don’t have to. Chinese and Filipino traditions often advise against starting a business, moving house or getting married during Ghost Month. Major decisions deserve careful timing. Don’t sign a questionable lease or buy a problematic property because somebody says, “Boss, sure thing.”
Ghost Month will pass. Political shouting will become yesterday’s noise. Floodwaters will recede. And morning will come.
If the ground floor floods every time it rains, don’t blame the spirits.
Blame the floor. If your relationship can survive our topsy-turvy Philippine politics, it can survive anything. Postpone the wedding if tradition demands it. Don’t postpone the love.
Avoid unnecessary nighttime adventures—especially near water. Some traditions warn against swimming or wandering near water during Ghost Month. Either way, this is excellent advice during typhoon season.
Don’t swim in flooded streets. Don’t walk through floodwater or drive into water of uncertain depth.
The diwata may be imaginary.
Leptospirosis is not.
Clean your home—and your conscience. Traditional beliefs encourage order. Excellent advice. Clean gutters and drains. Check electrical wires, secure loose roofing, and store water, flashlights and medicines.
If a ghost finds your house organized, perhaps it will leave.
If a politician visits, hide the receipts.
Don’t whistle at night. Your neighbors will thank you. Some Chinese and Filipino traditions say whistling at night attracts spirits. Maybe. But your neighbors might.
Don’t blast karaoke at 2 a.m. or rev your motorcycle.
You may not summon an aswang.
But you can certainly summon the barangay tanod.
Don’t let superstition make you neglect your health. Some people avoid medical procedures during Ghost Month. Pray if it gives you peace, but seek medical care when needed.
God gave us doctors, dentists, medicine and common sense for a reason.
The ghost can wait. The doctor shouldn’t.
Be careful with money—and suspicious of “sure things.” Don’t lend money you cannot afford to lose. Don’t invest in something you don’t understand. Don’t sign contracts under pressure. Don’t buy property because somebody whispers, “Rare opportunity — today only!”
That isn’t a ghost.
That’s a salesman.
If he says, “Trust me,” check the documents again.
Respect traditions without surrendering your faith. Some ethnic Chinese families across Asia avoid certain activities, offer food to ancestors and burn incense this month.
Christians can respect these as beautiful, ancient cultural and civic traditions without rejecting them as religious doctrine; European Jesuits led by Italian Fr. Matteo Ricci, SJ, did that in the 1590s.
Respect elders, don’t mock other people’s beliefs and place your faith in God.
Don’t let politicians become the real ghosts. Some politicians disappear after elections, reappear during ribbon-cuttings and become mysteriously invisible when floodwaters rise.
They promise bridges, drainage and miracles.
Then the rain comes.
Suddenly, everybody is searching for them.
Perhaps the Filipino ghost story isn’t the aswang.
It’s the “ghost” project that was funded, announced, photographed — and somehow never materialized.
Don’t become cynical. Demand accountability. Vote wisely. Help your neighbors.
Final thought, for the faithful and the hopeful
Ghost Month will pass. Political shouting will become yesterday’s noise. Floodwaters will recede.
And morning will come.
The baker will rise before dawn. The dough will rise after him.
A mother will cook breakfast, a child will laugh, a neighbor will clear the mud.
Bread rises because someone gives it warmth, time and faith. Perhaps nations do, too.
We are damp, tired, angry and frustrated.
But we are still here.
We have survived storms, earthquakes, volcanoes, colonizers, crises—and politicians who turn every problem into a campaign slogan.
Yet we keep rebuilding, praying, laughing and planting after the flood.
Perhaps that is our real Filipino magic: not that we are never haunted, but that we refuse to live like ghosts.
Keep your house clean, drainage clear, wallet guarded, family close and faith strong.
Respect the old traditions. Use your common sense. Laugh at the ghosts — and the politicians.
And when the storm comes, stay afloat — not only in the water, but in hope.
The spirits may be watching.
Heaven certainly is.
And somewhere between the cigar smoke of the kapre and the rain-soaked streets of Metro Manila, I have a feeling they are both betting on us.
Tabi-tabi po.
