This is a real story passed down to me when I was a child. A belief that eating eels should never be done. It is possible that there are other versions of this in different parts of the Philippines, but this is what I remember.

Eels are sacred within our family, not because we consider them as a deity, a god, or any other spiritual idol—it is because we honor what one of them did for our ancestors.

During World War II, Imperial Japanese started to invade the Philippines. Stories of massacres, beheadings, and violence spread from town to town. Fearing for their lives, the Flores family—my father’s ancestors—decided to flee before the soldiers reached them.

They took a small boat and took off into the nearest river. There’s no turning back or else they will meet certain death.

The river flowed peacefully, a cruel contrast to the fear gripping everyone aboard. Trembling shoulders and children crying, terrified. Unfortunately, a disaster struck them while they’re in the middle of the flowing river.

Then they noticed it.

A hole.

Each passing second the river flows freely.

It bathes their feet, their ankles…soon their lives.

They are going to die.

Their destination is still far away. They are going to die.

The water is flowing freely, now within their boat. It’s flowing quickly, threatening to drown them.

Everyone has started praying for a miracle to arrive, praying that this will not be their time. The children are too young, the adults have much time to live. God, save them from this obstacle.

The water stopped rising.

A miracle.

A miracle that allowed them to reach their destination.

When they arrived on land, they inspected the hole. Wondering what had happened, what had saved them from harm.

There, wedged within the hole was…

An eel.

Its body unmoving and cold, dark skin still glistening from the river’s water.

A miracle given by God through the body of the eel.

The family thanked the eel for giving its life so theirs could continue. From that day forward, they vowed never to harm or eat another eel, carrying that promise through each generation.

Author’s note : My memory is quite hazy since this was told to me a long time ago—as with family stories, I can’t verify every detail. Moreover, I know this is different from my usual writing style, more personal. You can say that this is a story I keep close to my heart.