*Note this story is in Tagalog
Dapat kang magtiwala at maniwala sa mga tao, dahil kung hindi, mahihirapan kang mabuhay. Anton yata ang pangalan ng taong nagsabi n’on. Kung sino man siya, totoo ang mga sinabi niya. Lalo na, pagkatapos ng lahat ng nangyari.
Nagsimula ‘to noong nakaraang linggo kay Steffi Talavera. Hindi siya masyadong gusto ng mga tao sa nayon. May pagkatsismosa kasi siya, uunahin niya ang tsismis kaysa sa katotohanan. Nakita siya sa dalampasigan. Lahat ng tao, naniwala na nalunod siya, pero alam ni Lolo Angelo ang totoo.
Walang gustong makinig sa kanya hanggang sa huli na ang lahat. Sumunod na nakita si Kevin Encina, nag-aaral siya ng abugasya sa kolehiyo. Nakita ang bangkay niya sa kalye kung nasaan ang bahay nila. Hindi pa rin nakikipag-usap ang nanay niya sa kahit sino.
Nawawala pa rin si Portia Infante. Lumabas siya noong isang gabi para bumili ng kung ano sa tindahan. Hindi na siya umuwi.
Simula noon, nakinig na ang mga tao.
Ipinatawag ni Lolo Angelo ang iba pang nakatatanda at nagtakda ng pulong. Dalawang araw ang itinagal n’on at tatlong tao pa ang nawala o namatay.
Noong tapos nang magpulong ang mga nakatatanda, ipinatawag nila ang lahat ng kabaranggay at binigyan kami ng simpleng babala.
“Mag-ingat kayo sa sipol, at huwag magtiwala sa kahit sino.”
Natawa kaming mga nakababata sa payong iyon. Sa mga panahong gaya nito, kailangan nating magsama-sama at magkaisa. Akala namin, alam namin ang lahat.
Kung nakinig lang sana siya. Matigas ang ulo ni Aliah, ayaw niyang dinidiktahan siya ng kahit sino sa kung paano siya mabubuhay. Magka-text kami noong gabing nawala siya. Sabi niya sa akin, sinisipulan siya ng nanay niya galing sa labas ng bahay nila. Iyon ang huling mensaheng ipinadala niya.
Mas lumala pa ‘to noong nawala ang kambal na Alvarez, sina Marcelo at Darwin. Pinakiusapan sila ng lola nila na pumirmi sa bahay, pero naiinip na sila. Limang minuto lang ang lumipas simula noong lumabas sila ng bahay nang makarinig ng pito ang lola nila. Ni hindi siya tumakbo palabas, alam niyang wala na sila.
Kahit kapag naglalaba ako, natatakot ako. Dito sa amin, karaniwan lang ang sumipol para magtawag ng hanging magtutuyo sa nilabhan. Akala ko dati, payapang paraan ‘yon para sabihin sa kalikasan kung anong dapat gawin nito. Ngayon, hindi na ako sigurado.
Nitong hapon, nadaanan ko ang bahay ni Manang Cecilia habang nagpapatuyo siya ng kanyang mga sinampay. Halos atakihin ako sa puso nang makarinig ako ng mahinang sipol.
Sa sobrang takot, kahit sarili kong pamilya, hindi ko na pinagkakatiwalaan. Nakipag-usap ang mga nakatatanda sa nanay ko at sinabi nilang matagal pa bago ito matapos. Sabi niya sa ‘kin, huwag akong tutugon sa kanya, kahit ano’ng mangyari, kahit pa alam kong nasa kabilang kwarto lang siya.
Tiwala lang, ‘di ba?
Tinitingnan ko ang mga kaibigan ko at ni hindi ko pinapakinggan ang kanilang mga boses. Kapag tinatawag nila ako, tinitiyak kong nakikita sila ng aking dalawang mata bago ko sila puntahan.
Araw-araw, tinatanong ko ang sarili ko kung ako na ba ang susunod. Kung papatawarin ba ng nanay ko ang sarili niya na hinayaan niyang mawala ako sa paningin niya, sobrang hirap na para bang hindi ko kakayanin.
Tinanong ko ang kaisa-isang taong kilala ko na makakapagsabi sa akin tungkol sa kung ano ang nangyayari.
Matanda na si Lolo Angelo, mas matanda sa kahit sino sa Dulag. Walang nakakaalam kung ilang taon na talaga siya, pero iginagalang siya ng mga tao.
Malapit lang ang bahay niya sa bahay namin. Pumunta ako roon nang tanghali, hindi ako pinapalabas ng nanay ko tuwing gabi at hindi ko rin naman iyon gugustuhin, hindi pagkatapos ng lahat ng nangyari.
Pumasok ako at nagmano sa kanya. Hindi na ako nag-abalang itago ang takot sa mukha ko. Malalaman din naman niya.
Tiningnan niya ako at sinagot ang hindi ko pa nasasabing tanong. “Hindi ‘to titigil hanggang sa matapos ito.” Tinanong ko siya kung ano ba ‘ito’ at umiling siya.
Hindi niya alam, walang nakakaalam. Ni walang nakakaalam sa kung anong hitsura nito. Basta’t kukunin ka nito sa gabi at sipol lang ang babala.
Nagsimula akong umiyak. Hindi ‘yon patas. Gusto ko lang namang tumigil na ito. Gusto ko lang na bumalik na ang mga kaibigan ko.
Niyakap ako ni Lolo Angelo para subukang patahanin. Sinabi niya sa akin na nangyari na ito dati at malamang na mangyayari ‘tong muli.
Limampung taon na ang nakalipas, kinuha rin ‘nito’ ang kanyang kapatid na babae. Pitong taong gulang lang ang kapatid niya. Lumabas lang ang kanyang kapatid para buksan ang pinto. Narinig nilang pareho ang sipol ng kanilang nanay at lumabas ang kapatid niya para papasukin ito. Doon ito nagsimula.
Tumagal ng ilang buwan ang mga insidente ng pagkawala at pagkamatay. Takot na takot ang mga taong lumabas sa gabi.
Sabi ni Lolo Angelo, baka iyon ang gusto ‘nito,’ na makita ang takot at kawalan ng tiwala na kaya niyang idulot sa mga taga-nayon.
Kung anuman ang gusto nito, hindi ako maghihintay na makita kung ano’ng ginagawa nito.
Ayaw iwanan ng mga nakatatanda at ng nanay ko ang buhay na nakagisnan nila, kahit na may panganib pa ito ng kamatayan.
Nag-impake ako at nagpaalam. Ayokong maging susunod na biktima ng hindi kilalang pumapatay.
Pagsakay ko sa bus, gumaan ang pakiramdam ko at napabuntong-hininga. Sa wakas, tapos na.
Tinanaw ko ang bago kong buhay at sa loob ng mahabang panahon, naramdaman kong muli na ligtas ako.
Hanggang sa narinig ko ito.
Muntik nang huminto ang pagtibok ng puso ko at nagmakaawa ako sa katawan kong huwag gumalaw. Sinabi sa akin ni Lolo Angelo na maaaring may anino muna akong makita bago ko marinig ang sipol at ipinagdasal ko sa Diyos na sana ay mali siya.
Tumingala ako sa langit, hindi mo matatanaw ang buwan, at narinig ko ang matamis na tinig ng aking nanay.
Dapat ay nakinig ako.
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English Version
You must trust and believe in people, or life becomes impossible. I think someone named Anton said that. Whoever he was, his words ring true. Especially after what happened.
It started last week with Steffi Talavera. She was never the most well liked person in town. She had the attitude where gossip came first above everything, including the truth. She was found by the beach. Everyone else assumed she had drowned, but lolo Angelo knew.
No one would listen to him until it was too late. Kevin Encina was the next one found, he was a college student studying to be a lawyer. His lifeless body was set on the street of his house. His mother still hasn’t spoken to anyone.
Portia Infante is still missing. She went out two nights ago to buy something from the sari-sari store. She never returned home.
At that point people started to listen.
Lolo Angelo gathered the rest of the elders and set a meeting. It lasted two days and at that point three more people were either missing or dead.
When the elders were finished they gathered the barangay and gave us a simple warning.
“Beware the whistle, and trust no one.”
The younger generation, myself included, laughed at the suggestion. In times like these we needed to band together and stay united. We thought we knew everything.
If only she listened. Aliah was stubborn, she wouldn’t let anyone tell her how to live her life. We were texting the night she disappeared. She told me that her mother was whistling to her from outside the house. That was the last thing she ever sent.
It only got worse once Marcelo and Darwin, the Alvarez twins, went missing. Their lola begged them to stay home, but they were getting too bored at home. They were only gone for five minutes when their lola heard a whistle. She didn’t even run outside, she knew they were already gone.
I’m even scared when I do my laundry. In these parts it’s common to whistle to summon a breeze to dry clothes. I always thought it was a peaceful way to tell nature what to do. Now I’m not so sure.
This afternoon I walked by manang Cecilia’s house and she was drying her clothes. I almost had a heart attack the moment I heard her soft whistle.
It’s getting to the point where I don’t even trust my own family. The elders talked to my mother and told her that this won’t end soon. She told me not to respond to her, no matter what happens, even if I knew she was in the next room.
It’s just trust right?
I look at my friends and don’t even listen to their voices. When they call to me I make sure I see them with my own two eyes before I go to them.
Every new day I ask myself if I’m next. If my mother will ever forgive herself for letting me out of her sight, it’s almost too much to bear.
I ask the one person who I know will tell me what’s going on.
Lolo Angelo was old, older than anyone in Dulag. No one really knows how old he is, but they talk about him in words of respect.
His house is near mine, along the same street. I go at noon, my mother wouldn’t let me go out at night and I don’t think I’d even consider it, not after everything that’s happened.
I walk inside and take his hand to my forehead. I didn’t bother to hide the fear on my face. He would find out one way or another.
He looks at me and answers my unasked question. “It won’t stop until it is finished.” I ask him what ‘it’ is and he shakes his head.
He doesn’t know, no one does. No one even knows what it looks like. It just takes you in the night with only a whistle as warning.
I start to cry. It’s not fair. I just want this to stop. I just want my friends back.
Lolo Angelo tries to comfort me with an embrace. He tells me this has all happened before and it will probably happen again.
Fifty years ago he lost his sister to ‘it’. She was just seven years old. She had just gone outside to answer the door. They both heard their mother’s whistle and she went out to let her in. That was when it started.
The disappearances and the dead lasted for months. People were too scared to go out at night.
Lolo Angelo said maybe that’s what ‘it’ wanted, to see the fear and mistrust it could create among the village.
Whatever it wants I won’t wait to see what it does.
The elders and my mother won’t leave the life they know behind, even if it’s tainted by death.
I pack my bags and say my goodbyes. I refuse to be another victim to an unknown killer.
As I take the bus to the city I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s finally over.
I look out to my new life and fell safe for the first time in a long time.
Until I hear it.
My heart nearly stops and I beg my body to stay where it is. Lolo Angelo told me that there might be a shadow before I hear the whistle and I pray to God he’s wrong.
I look at the moonless sky and hear my mother’s sweet voice.
I should have listened.
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*Tagalog is an Austronesian language spoken as a first language by a quarter of the population of the Philippines and as a second language by the majority. Its standardized form, officially named Filipino, is the national language of the Philippines, and is one of two official languages alongside English.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Ninya Zulueta
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Ninya Zulueta
Aghoy description given by Oreon Peregrino
Aghoy Illustration and Watercolor by Marc Magpantay
FB: Murcy Murc Art
Tumblr: Glassy-draws.tumblr.com