Episode 4 of Eerie Tales with Cosette - Il-Gawgaw – The Midnight Curse of Christmas Eve. Here's the video transcript.
Imagine this: It's Christmas Eve in a quiet Maltese village, the air thick with the scent of honey rings baking in ovens. The clock strikes midnight. You’re in church, surrounded by the solemn hymns of the Christmas Eve Mass, when a low, guttural groan echoes through the streets outside—like an enraged bull dragging chains across stone. Your heart pounds. Is it the wind? Or has il-Gawgaw awakened, sniffing out those who stray from the sacred light of the midnight Mass?"
Good evening, fellow seekers of the strange and sinister. I am Cosette, your guide through the shadows of folklore and forgotten fears. As a proud Maltese storyteller, I draw from the whispers of our islands' ancient winds to bring you tales that linger long after the telling. Tonight, in this fourth episode of Eerie Tales with Cosette, we unearth a legend born from our very own soil—or perhaps from distant shores that shaped it. Prepare yourselves for "Il-Gawgaw: The Midnight Curse of Christmas Eve". A story of birth, transformation, and terror that turns the joy of Yuletide into a night of dread.
Let us begin at the heart of the matter. Il-Gawgaw, known also as il-KawKaw or the Christmas Monster: "il-Waħx tal-Milied", is no mere bogeyman conjured to frighten naughty children. No, this creature embodies a curse as old as Malta's crossroads of cultures. Its origins trace back to mediaeval times, when Greek Christian settlers arrived on our shores, carrying with them tales of the kallikantzaros: black, hairy goblins that dwell underground, sawing at the roots of the world tree, only to emerge during the twelve days of Christmas to wreak havoc on the living.
In Malta, this myth evolved, blending with our Semitic roots and influences from North Africa and the Arab world. The name "Gawgaw" itself may echo the Arabic "Gougou", a term for mischievous troublemakers in Sudanese and Tunisian folklore, or even hark back to Mesopotamian astrology. Picture this: the star Canopus, the second brightest in the night sky, reaches its zenith around midnight on Christmas Eve. In ancient lore, Canopus is part of the constellation Carina, once called the "Harrow"—a farming tool symbolised by a minotaur-like beast. Il-Gawgaw, screeching like a furious bull while dragging a spectral harrow through the fields, marks the onset of winter ploughing, a time when the earth is torn open and secrets spill forth.
But the true horror lies in the curse's personal sting. Maltese folklore holds that any child born precisely at midnight on the 24th of December is doomed. Why? Because their birth dares to rival that of Christ himself. God's punishment, they say, for such audacity. As adulthood dawns, on every Christmas Eve thereafter, if the cursed one dares to sleep at midnight, they transform. Their skin turns grey and slimy, their hair grows wild and unkempt, and their nails curve into talons like twisted thorns. They become a zombie-like beast, shambling from their home with horrible groans that curdle the blood. Roaming the streets, il-Gawgaw torments the unwary—those who linger after the first mass, perhaps sneaking a late-night feast or whispering secrets under the stars. It plays cruel pranks: overturning carts, stealing livestock from farmers' pens, or worse, dragging the naughty into the shadows, never to be seen again, as they wander the streets instead of attending the Midnight Mass.
Whispers persist of its lairs in the wild places of our islands—the rugged Dingli Cliffs, where the sea crashes eternally against limestone, or deep caves hidden in Gozo's hills. There, it is said to feast on animals, its cries echoing like thunder, terrorising shepherds and villagers alike. One chilling variant claims il-Gawgaw emerges not just at Christmas but during il-Gandlora—the feast of Candlemas in early February. Like a twisted groundhog, it touches its moustache: if dry, winter drags on with more cold and woe; if wet with dew, the worst has passed, and spring whispers near.
Yet, there is hope in the lore—a ritual to break the spell, passed down through generations. The afflicted must stay vigilant through the witching hour, armed with a simple wheat sieve, or "għarbil" in our tongue. This humble tool, borrowed from ancient Egyptian and Moroccan birth rites, symbolises purification. The cursed one counts every hole in the sieve—hundreds upon hundreds—until dawn breaks or the first Paternoster rings from the church bells on Christmas morn. Some tales speak of counting grains of rice instead, each one a bead in a rosary of endurance. Fail, and the transformation grips you for seven long years, or perhaps forever, condemning you to a half-life of monstrosity.
Let me share a tale to illustrate, drawn from the annals of our oral traditions. In a village near Mdina, centuries ago, lived a woman named Marija. Born under the fateful stars of Christmas Eve, she grew into a kind soul, unaware of her doom. On her first adult Yuletide, as midnight tolled, exhaustion claimed her. Her family awoke to screams—Marija was gone, the door ajar. Outside, villagers barricaded their homes as groans rent the night. Come dawn, Marija returned, dishevelled and silent, her eyes haunted. For seven Eves she endured until an old wise woman taught her the sieve ritual. Counting the holes, Marija outlasted the curse, but the memory scarred her forever. "The Gawgaw is within us all," she whispered, "waiting for the dark to call."
Such stories remind us Maltese of our fragile place between sea and sky, where pagan echoes mingle with Christian rites. Il-Gawgaw warns against hubris, urges us indoors during winter's bite, and ties our fates to the cycles of stars and soil. In my own childhood, grandparents would hush us with threats of its coming, ensuring we slept early on Christmas Eve. Even now, as the festivities approach, I wonder: do you hear it in the wind?
If this tale of Mediterranean midnight terror has left you shivering, brace yourselves for our next journey. We'll delve deeper into Malta’s shadowy folklore, unravelling another chilling tale from our ancient islands.
Until then, stay vigilant in the shadows.
