“FAR away in the jungle (as I have been told, several times, in Selangor) the tiger-folk have a town of their own, where they live in houses, and act in every respect like human beings...
There are several of these tiger-villages or “enclosures” in the peninsula...” English philologist Walter Skeat’s account of were-tigers in 1900 sounds like yet another annoying colonial excitement over the superstition of the “other” in primitive lands.
More than a century later, books, films and poems by foreigners and locals alike still feature the elusive were-tiger as an integral part of communities’ belief systems in Malaysia and other parts of Asia.
Stories of were-tigers in Malay and Orang Asli folklore are rife.
The ability to transform from a man into a were-tiger is said to be exclusive to the Korinchi Malays from Sumatra.
Descendants of these Malays are today scattered throughout Peninsular Malaysia.
Although were-tigers might live in villages with humans, entire settlements of were-tigers also exist.
Sumatrans believe that were-tiger homes are made of roofs thatched with human hair, walls made of human skin, and beams of human bones.
In his paper, The Last Tiger Of East Java(1995),RobertWessingponderson the indeterminate nature of the weretiger in his relationship with humans.
On the one hand, Wessing says, the were-tiger is revered as a protector.
On the other, he’s denounced in his personification of the more amoral characteristics of man.
Traditional Malay tales tell of were-tiger shape-shifting taking place either through inheritance, via black magic, or through fasting.
Some say were-tigers only take on their animal form when they’re guarding plantations at night.
Identifying a were-tiger isn’t easy.
However, Malaysian folklore suggests that a man vomiting chicken feathers should be suspect, as chickens are were-tiger culinary favourites.
Experience grants certainty.
My photographer friend and I decided to embark on a tiger hunt of a different kind.
We’re tracking down the most baffling animal in all of Malaysia, the harimau jadian.
ANIMALS IN HUMAN DISGUISE
Arthur Locke, a Malayan colonial officer, wrote in 1954 of a were-tiger settlement at the foot of the Gunung Angsi in Negri Sembilan.
In human form, according to Locke, these weretigers studied, farmed and read the Quran.
Gunung Angsi with its Ulu Bendul Recreational Forest can be spotted from Seremban.
Bukit Putus is the old and now dormant Route 51 bypass circling Ulu Bendul.
It’s said that Bukit Putus is named after a fight between Datuk Paroi (the Gunung Angsi weretiger community leader) and another were-tiger from Johor.
Paroi lost his tail in this skirmish and subsequently the hill was dubbed Bukit Putus (Broken Tail Hill).
We approach Bukit Putus from Kuala Pilah’s side.
A back road leads us to Seri Menanti, the state’s royal capital.
Reports tell of were-tiger hamlets in this vicinity.
In our 13-yearold Honda C100 we slowly thread our way through hushed villages.
Vigilant ears alert to any strange purring dins, we think of nothing but the presence of animals in human disguise.
Just as we enter Seri Menanti, we spot an intricately carved abandoned wooden house on a corner.
Somehow we’re drawn to the place.
The dilapidated building is puzzling.
Rooms lie scattered with household objects, seemingly left overnight.
A sign reading “reception”, cassette tapes of The Eagles and other oldies, beautifully hand-carved wooden chairs, and an old television set dangling from a wall, stare at us.
What fascinates us are the custommade choppers in the yard.
The seat covering on one of the motorbikes is unmistakable tiger skin, albeit not real.
As night falls, an urge for durian overwhelms us.
Fortunately, there was a family of durian vendors next to Route 51.
I ask the friendly salesman if he knows about the were-tiger.
“The harimau jadian looks like a human with a tiger’s head.
My grandfather saw the were-tiger once.
My father used to threaten us kids with the harimau jadian whenever we were naughty.
I do the same with my three children today.” Upon asking Zaiyi, 35, if he believes in were-tiger stories, he stops smiling, looks towards Gunung Angsi and nods silently.
The next day we set out to climb Gunung Angsi.
Paroi is said to live in these mountains and his folk can be identified by their paw prints — a real tiger has four toes, but a weretiger has five.
He was said to have a boy assistant, easily identified by his human foot imprint.
After six hours of mounting and descending Gunung Angsi, we didn’t meet a single soul, nor do we see any identifiable foot or paw prints.
The jungle, save for the sound of flowing water and screeching cicadas, is still as the grave.
Standing at the summit of Gunung Angsi, the density and grandness of the jungle below captivates us.
I realise how futile it is looking for something in a physical and spiritual environment that isn’t yours.
ONWARD JOURNEY
Our final stage of the Gunung Angsi were-tiger hunt involves the journey to Bukit Putus.
We drive the eerie Bukit Putus road, again without encountering a single vehicle or person en route.
Locke wrote that Paroi had a shrine nearby Bukit Putus.
The only thing close to a place of worship we can identify is what looks like a Taoist roadside grave with incense sticks still hot.
I later read that were-tiger transformation can take place while burning incense.
After reciting a spell, the person who makes an offering of kembang gadhing (ivory flowers) disrobes and turns into a tiger.
Winding our way down the final stretch of the old Bukit Putus road my friend suddenly saw something.
Through an opening in an overgrown fence, I see a man with a rice-hat squatting over a vegetable patch.
Weretigers assume the most unsuspecting human forms during daytime...
PUTERI GUNUNG LEDANG
A few months after the Gunung Angsi stint, we undertake a day trip to Gunung Ledang, some 20km from Tangkak in Johor.
The biggest weretiger settlement in Malaysia is said to be located here.
“By far the most celebrated of these ghost tigers, however, were the guardians of the shrine at the foot of Jugra Hill, which were formerly the pets of the Princess of Malacca (Tuan Putri Gunung Ledang)”, wrote Walter Skeat.
One version of the 15th century legend of Puteri Gunung Ledang (or the Fairy Princess) states that the Princess was married to a Malay seafarer.
When she accidentally killed her husband , the Princess cloistered herself on Gunung Ledang where she vowed to never love again.
At the time, the Sultan of Malacca, Mansur Shah, was looking for a new wife who’d outshine all the wives of the princes of the world.
A wedding between the sultan and Puteri Gunung Ledang, however, never materialised.
The Sultan couldn’t meet the conditions of the seven impossible demands set by the Princess.
To this day, the Princess is said to reside in a cave on Gunung Ledang where she transforms from a beautiful young girl in the morning to an old hag at night.
Emanuel Godinho De Eridia, a 16th century Portuguese historian, wrote that the Fairy Princess is guarded by were-tigers and that these very were-tigers liked to slay women and children in Malacca at nighttime.
It’s the chief of this were-tiger settlement in Gunung Ledang that was involved in the battle with Paroi at Bukit Putus.
ORANG ASLI TALES
Our first stop is the Gunung Ledang National Park.
On the last kilometre stretch, approaching the foot of the misty mountain, a park ranger stops us and tells us to turn back.
We rebel and continue to the park office where we get an area map.
The officer who gives us the map refuses to give his name when asked about the harimau jadian.
He knows about the harimau jadian, yes, but it’s just a story, not real, he claims.
We walk around the immediate surroundings and chance upon a waterfall called Ayer Putih.
An Orang Asli woman would later tell us that this is the bathing place of the Fairy Princess.
Next we visit the Gunung Ledang Resort where none of the visitors or staff know about the legend of the harimau jadian or Puteri Gunung Ledang.
Our best chance of getting any information is an Orang Asli village close to Tangkak.
That’s what the nameless officer at the National Park office told us.
We spot the sign Kampung Orang Asli a few kilometres short of Tangkak.
Half an hour later, through oil palm plantations, we reach Kampung Orang Asli Air Tawas.
In the small settlement, we probed about the Fairy Princess and the were-tiger.
Few villagers can speak English unfortunately and my Malay is poor.
One household, however, calls me back and a 12-year-old girl volunteers to transcribe her grandmother’s words for me.
Beedah Rampak, 64, says Orang Asli hunters used to see the longhaired princess bathing near the river cascades of Ayer Putih.
Tigers were frequently sighted in the vicinity of the princess, Rampak narrates through her granddaughter.
Tok batin Mengkek Achai, 53, the village chief, adds that were-tigers have no grooves above the upper lips, a feature confirmed by many accounts.
Tok batin gives us some petrol after a false start with the motorbike.
We make our way back to Malacca.
Some 10km from the city the motorbike stalls mid-road.
The petrol tank is three quarters full.
We’ll have to push the bike home.
I notice the cat paw-like scratches on the front mudguard.
Unbelievable, I mutter.
McNeeley and Wachtel (Soul Of The Tiger, 1988) remarked that looking for a were-tiger is “like trying to find the end of the rainbow- it’s always just over the next hill”.
Perhaps McNeeley and Wachtel were right.
But really, who knows how many were-tigers in disguise one unknowingly rubs shoulders with on such a foolish undertaking.