Jungle Spirits... Halloween Special

Sometimes the beauty of a place can mask the frightening truth behind it; and yet it is this same truth that helps to preserve its magnificence.

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It was not just another job but a planned 5-star hotel in one of the oldest rainforests in the world. As a landscape architect it was my job to visit the site before any works began to evaluate the existing vegetation, landforms, and natural site features. My initial report would help the project team to determine what could be preserved and included in the final design master plan.

It was mid-morning when I parked my rental on the side of the road and looked down the old survey trail that led down the mountainside to the beach below. The air was humid and warm as was normal for just about any day of the year on this small island. I started down the old track passing centuries-old trees and jagged rock outcroppings. The light under the jungle canopy had a greenish tint and was sufficiently filtered to prevent a thick under-growth from developing.


braided roots of a ficus tree on the mountainside

The steep face of the mountain cradled a flat area near the beach. This was the place for the new hotel. The beach was wide at low tide but I could see from the broken shells and small pieces of driftwood that at high tide the water approached the jungle’s edge.

I walked along the beachfront, the sand blinding white, the water a cool green. Just ahead I noticed there was a cut across the beach and water was flowing into the sea, defiling the aqua green colored sea with a brown swirl.

The brownish water came from a swampy area just behind the beach. The jungle trees dispersed leaving behind stubby mangroves stooped in a shallow patch of slow moving water. Water bugs skated on the surface and unseen creatures created ripples along the edge. I walked along the edge of the swamp, my feet making suction sounds in the rich mud.

I walked further inland following the swamp, curious about it’s extent and origin. I was leaving the flat area near the beachfront now and found myself in a thicker, heavier part of the jungle. I was following a series of small streams that braided down the side of the mountain. Branches from the mangroves hung low and I had to crawl below their bony arms. Shadows were muted by the lack of light. I was sweaty. Mosquitoes, buzzing, clouded around me. My shoes and legs were muddy.


monitor lizard on the edge of the swamp

Then I entered a bright room, and the source of the water. I stood up and looked around. I was in a rounded space the size of a living room. Short, bushy Rhapis palms, a dark green low wall of vegetation, defined the circular space. The floor was made of white sand, water bubbling out feeding the stream and further down, the swamp. In the center of this space was a short, gnarled tree. Its trunk revealed its old age, but its height spoke of a life of stress. Sunlight and fresh air poured into this space.

Monkeys began laughing all around me. I could hear them taunting me from the treetops but could not see them. I looked around, marveling at this natural little room at the foot of the mountain, when I noticed the sudden quiet. The monkeys stopped their cacophony. There were no sounds of birds or bugs. It was a quiet so loud I could feel its weight. Then I felt someone behind me. I could feel someone looking at me. I could feel their breath on my neck, their fingers caressing me. It was an unpleasant presence. I turned around but saw nothing. Electricity coursed through my body, my hairs charged on end. My heart rate increased. Uncontrollable panic overcame me. And then I ran, stumbling out of the circular room and back towards the swamp. The monkeys then started laughing again, louder than before.

I made it back to the beach but didn’t stop walking until I was back at the main road and unlocking my rental car.

I cannot explain what happened to me that day. I consider myself a rational person but know that something did touch me that morning, something menacing, something powerful. It’s not an event I discussed with anyone afterwards until much later…

During the course of the construction of the hotel one worker fell off the roof to his death. The main contractor lost control of his car near the site and died when he plunged into a jungle ravine. A Japanese couple on their honeymoon and staying in a nearby hotel crashed head-on with one of the construction trucks leaving our site. Flowers are still left at the site to mark their death. And at the end of a long site meeting, on our way back to the airport, we came across a couple that ran their motorcycle off the road. One of them died as we were wrapping his cracked skull with my ‘Meat Puppets’ tee shirt, bloody bubbles gurgling from his mouth.

The hotel later opened and was a success. An additional restaurant was needed. The site identified was not far from the main hotel block, in the jungle, just up from the swamp. Three surveyors went in to measure and map the land. Three surveyors ran out in hysterics. Two were hospitalized for unexplained trauma. They told of a spirit, a power that overcame them… possessed them.

A Bomoh (Malaysian witchdoctor) was brought in and he identified the spirit that resided in the jungles near the hotel. This spirit, he said, was thousands of years old and considered one of the most powerful. We were called into a meeting and instructed to respect this spirit, were told that if we found ourselves in its presence we were to explain our good intentions and back away quickly.


the completed hotel at the base of the mountain

I haven’t met this spirit again though I’ve been back to the hotel on numerous occasions and even visited the adjacent site for a proposed third hotel (that rainy site visit ended when an engineer bumped into a bee hive on the slippery slopes, fell, and broke his leg. We all heard the “snap” and then took turns carrying him down the mountain to a boat that was waiting to rush him to the hospital).

The beauty of the jungle and surrounding mountains is still overpowering. The hotel and facilities nestled snuggly among the bottom slopes and towering trees seem to have sprouted naturally in that environment.

That timeless rainforest on the mountain slopes is a beauty that evokes awe. There is no place on that island like it. It is a beauty that will last because it comes with a guardian, a protector.

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The only similar incident I’ve experienced was years before while working on a job on a small Indonesian island off of Singapore. This was another resort, but the works included having to exhume a cemetery. I remember remarking to the project manager after the project was completed how the area where the cemetery was located evoked no feelings; it was just another area of the job site. But, I told him, that area down by the bamboo grove and little stream, that area was creepy. He told me that the workers claimed that grove was possessed and always avoided it.