When tikbalang weds and old maids party

By Christian George Acevedo

When I was young, it amazed me when it rains while the sun is still in full view  and not a cloud covers it. How could that be? And then, my grandmother would explain to me when that happens, the souls of the dead are partying in heaven. Another version I heard explained that the souls of old maids are dancing or that the crow is dreaming.  Then, there’s the story that the Tikbalang is getting married. Tikbalang, one of the country’s mythical creatures, is believed to be a half-human, half-horse. They say that rain falls whenever a Tikbalang weds under the blazing sun, for the heavens do not favor their love.

But of course, it is a natural phenomenon, which is called the sunshower, or sun shower.  A sunshower occurs when rain falls even though the sun remains visible in a mostly clear sky. This usually happens when strong winds carry raindrops from a distant rainstorm into an area free of cloud cover. It can also occur when a small rain cloud passes overhead while the sun remains unobstructed because of its position in the sky. Under these conditions, sunlight passing through the falling raindrops is often refracted and reflected, creating a rainbow when the sun is low enough on the horizon.

From the perspective of ethnoscience, the different explanations for a sunshower demonstrate how communities construct systems of knowledge to interpret natural phenomena long before Western science and education became widespread. Our folk beliefs should not be dismissed simply as superstition but as an indigenous way of observing, explaining, and transmitting knowledge about the natural world through oral tradition, symbolism, and cultural narratives. Ethnoscience recognizes that every culture develops its own framework for understanding nature, shaped by its environment, history, spirituality, and collective experiences.

As a child, hearing these stories transformed an ordinary weather event into something memorable and meaningful. In many rural communities, such explanations were often a child’s first introduction to observing changes in the environment, encouraging attentiveness to the sky, the weather, and seasonal patterns. In my mind, I did not see the water droplets falling amidst a bright sky, but my imagination transported me up in the clouds and I saw people dancing and partying. I think listening to my grandmother was my first brush with storytelling.

Ethnoscience does not position indigenous knowledge and scientific knowledge as mutually exclusive. Instead, it encourages an appreciation of both as distinct yet valuable ways of knowing. While the conventional scientific explanations identify measurable physical processes through observation and experimentation, indigenous explanations preserve cultural identity, social values, and historical memory through stories and symbols. Presenting both perspectives enables us to appreciate how our communities have always sought to understand the same natural world using different knowledge systems. So instead of replacing or dispelling one with the other, ethnoscience invites dialogue between cultural wisdom and scientific inquiry, demonstrating that understanding nature can involve both empirical evidence and the rich cultural heritage that gives meaning to people’s everyday experiences.

Hocus FOLKus explores our  fascinating folklore – a product of  generations of observations, of stories passed down in the community across generations. Each column begins with a familiar belief, tale, or cultural tradition and  explores how communities have long interpreted our world through observation, experience, and storytelling. Rather than choosing between myth and science, Hocus FOLKus celebrates both as meaningful ways of understanding our world, inviting readers to appreciate the wisdom embedded in our cultural heritage while discovering the scientific truths behind everyday wonders.