*Note this story is in Tagalog-Marinduque
Kuminang ang dagat na para bagang mga dinurog na diyamante, nasisinagan ito ng mga liwanag ng bituin.
Ngayong gab-i, gaya ng iba pang mga gab-i, ito na ang ritwal niya. Dis-oras na ng gab-i, ito ay oras nang ipagtutulog na, kung kailang ang mga tao ay nananag-inip na at ito din naman ang oras na siya ay naga-isip-isip.
Akaunti na ang natitira sa kanyang inatirhan. Nagakwento noon ang nanay niya tungkol sa mga taong nagala-gala sa isla pero makamatagal nang panahon ‘yun. Tumingin naman siya sa dagat ay napakaraming turista na pumar-on para lumayo sandali sa magulong buhay sa siyudad. Dati ang lugar na ito ay paraiso para sa mga nakatira doon pero ngay-on ay para na lamang itong baong walang laman. Inubos na ng napakaraming tao na napunta at naalis din pagkatapos.
Napaiyak siya nang kaunti at naramdaman niya ang makamatinding kalungkutan. “Ay bakit nagkaganire na? Ito na baga ang kapalaran naring mga kababayan ko? Ay parang naligaw na, palaboy-laboy na laang para mahanap kung saan baga dapat ang apar-unan”.
Pumikit siya at bumuntong-hininga. Humiga siya sa buhanginan at pinabyaang maglakbay ang kanyang diwa hanggang mapuno na siya ng kadiliman.
Nagising na siya, nakapagpahinga at handa na pero para bayang may mali.
Ang mga bituin ay hindi na nasasalamin nung dagat, hindi na din niya maramdaman ang sinag ng buwan.
Sa loob-loob niya, alam na niya ang nangyayari.
Madaling araw na, kapag ganito ay mapar-on na sa bukid ang mga kapitbahay niya at magahanap-buhay na, pero naalala niyang matagal na ngani palang hindi ganito ang nangyayari. Makamatagal na ngani palang nawala ang ganitong pamumuhay.
Bumalik na siya sa tirahan at pamilya niya habang nangangapa sa dilim. Hindi naman siya naga-alaala, ganito naman na talaga maski noon pa.
Nagdilim ang kanyang paningin hanggang sa wala na siyang maaninaw.
Hanggang sa ang tabing dagat ay tinambakan na ng mga semento at konkreto.
Hanggang ang mga gubat ay nilunod na ng mga minahan.
Hanggang ang pamilya niya ay wala nang agapilian kundi mamalimos.
Alam niyang kailangan niyang sumigaw, para makalaban ulit ang araw at makaalis sa abang kalagayan. Nananalaytay ito sa kanyang dugo, sa dugo ng kanyang mga kababayan.
Ngunit mas nanaig ang katahimikan.
“Pabayai nang kunin at kainin ng sawa ‘yang araw”. Napaluhod siya at napaluha sa gitna ng kadiliman.
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English Version
The sea glistened like a field of crushed diamonds, reflecting the soft light of the stars.
Tonight, as in all nights, was her ritual. It was late, the time when dreams fluttered in the minds of others, and it was this time that she could collect her thoughts.
There was little left for her in what should have been her home. Her mother had told her stories of when her people would move as nomads all over the island, but those times were long past. She looked at the beach, now filled with tourists escaping the drudgery of city life. This place was once a paradise for her people to live, now it was a hollow shell of its former self, chipped away at the ends by the consumption of man.
A soft tear made its way down her cheek, and her sorrow reaches its peak. How did it come to this, was this really the destiny of her people? Forever lost, forever wandering for their place in the world?
She closes her eyes and breathes in the night air. She lays her head on the soft sand, letting the thoughts fly through her mind until darkness fills her.
She awakens, rested and ready, yet something is not right.
The stars are not reflected on the sea, she cannot feel the warm glow of moonlight.
Instinctively she knows.
It is early, when her people would tend to the fields and go about the means of their survival, but no, she corrects herself, the old ways are gone.
She goes back to her home and her family stumbling through the darkness. It does not bother her, in a way it has followed her all her life.
The darkness fills her vision until nothing is left.
Until the beaches are covered with concrete.
Until the forests are drowned by the mines.
Until her family has to resort to begging.
She knows she has to shout, to make the sun fight back against its victimhood. It is in her blood, the blood of her people.
Yet silence reigns.
“Let the serpent take the sun.” She falls on her knees and her tears fall into the darkness.
=———————–=
*The version of Tagalog spoken in Marinduque, known as the Marinduque Tagalog, has been described as “the root from which modern national forms of speech have sprung,” where remnants of archaic Tagalog could be found, spoken in a lilting manner by its inhabitants.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Hazel Rodelas
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Hazel Rodelas
Story inspired by the Sawa description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.
Sawa Illustration by Patricia Zulueta
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