*Note this story is in Bicol – Naga
“Selamat pagi!” bati ni Aish sa local niyang taramon asin nagsimbag ako na “Maray man mahiling ka.” Siya bago pa sana, sarong estudyante haling Malaysia na muya mahiling ang igwa ang Pilipinas kaya uni kami ngonyan. Nasa katahawan ning Negros, masakat pasiring sa kabuludan. Yay.
Dae man sa habo kung maging tour guide pero mahambog lang ako kung masabi akong iyo. Saro akong taga syudad, pinangaki asin nagdakula duman kaya habo ko sa arog kani igdi. Kadakulon mga kahoy, kadakulon maray masitas asin dae pa ko nainom kape sa limang oras na nakaagi. Dae ko maisip na kakayahon kong mabuhay sa arog kani.
Pagkatapos kang lakaw na garo mayong katapusan, nakaabot man kami sa campsite. Naglibot si Aish sa lugar para magkua ning mga magagayon na litrato para sa saiyang souvenir book asin ako man nawalat sa campsite habang minaisip kung panong ang arog kaning bagay naging pamuso sa arog kaning panahon. Ang pagsakat sa mga tukad bako ko talagang ideya ning kaogmahan asin pagkatapos kaning lakaw na ni, dae ko maisip na maulit pa ko.
Naglatag ako ning duyan asin nagpurbar magturog nguna bago magpreparar ning pamanggihan. Naglubog na ang aldaw ning amay ngonyan na banggi pero ang bulan bilogon kaya dae man problema. Nagsara ako ning mata asin nag-isip na mangiturugan ning marhay na bagay.
“Penanggalan! Penanggalan!” namata ako sa kurahaw ni Aish asin dae ko aram kung saro pa ini sa mga gawi ning Malaysian, pero mayo akong interes ngonyan sa pag-aadal kultura. Pigyugo ako ni Aish sa sakuyang duyan asin naghapot, “Haen si mga kakanon!?”
“Aram mo Aish—” nagpundo ako sa katahawan ning taram kang mahiling ko siya. Ito. Aram ko kung ano ito. Sarong ungga-ungga o kung ano mang apod saiya sa parteng ini, pero sa Bikol inaapod mi ining anananggal. Ang mga tour groups madalas tinatakot ang mga turista kang mga istorya kang bruhang naglalayog na naglalaylay ang lamang loob. Dae na ko nag isip isip asin nagdalagan ning abang rikas. Dapat talagang ngpirmi na lang ako sa harong.
“Hain si kakanon?!” Kurahaw ni Aish giraray. “Dae ini oras para mag-isp kang tulak mo!” Kurahaw ko man habang nagdadalagan kasabay niya. Dae ko maisip na maiintindihan ko ang mga Malaysians talaga. “Seryoso ako!” kurahaw niya giraray, kaya tano dae, kung gusto niya ang huri niyang pagkakan, dae ko siya pupugulan. “Yaon sa likod kang tent.”
Nagdalagan si Aish pasiring sa tent asin pigsusog siya kang ungga-ungga. Bako ako itong maisog na tawo pero barkada ko man giraray si Aish. Garo arog kayan, kaya kaipuhan ko magdalagan pabalik para kuanon siya. Nahiling ko siya na may kapot pinya asin pigdaklag ini sa ungga-ungga asin tinamaan ini. Dae ko aram kung anong nangyayari pero nagkurahaw ang ungga-ungga asin naglayog parayo.
Nagtindog lang ako duman, ribaraw.
“Sa pinaghalian ko, ang pinya pigtatanom gibo kang ang mga tunok kang dahon kani pinapahali ang Penanggalan. Ang mga tunok napasiring sa mga baga asin laman loob kani kaya nasasakitan sindang maglayog. Aram kong mabisa ini dawa igdi.” Nagngingirit si Aish sin nag-abot sako ning mga isnakan.
“Gutom ka?”
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English Version
“Selamat pagi!” Aish greets me in his native language and I reply “Nice to see you.” He’s a new guy, an exchange student from Malaysia who wanted to see what the Philippines had to offer so here we are. In the middle of Negros backpacking through the “great” outdoors. Yay.
It’s not that I don’t like being a tour guide, but that would be a lie. I am a city boy, born and raised and I do not like it here. There are too many trees, there’s too much green and I haven’t had coffee in 5 hours. I don’t think I’ll survive this.
After a trek that seemed to last forever we finally hit camp. Aish goes around the area to take some nice pictures for his souvenir book and I’m left at the campsite wondering how this sort of thing is popular these days. Trekking through the mountains is just not my idea of fun and after this trip I don’t think it will ever be.
I lay out a hammock and try to take a small nap before preparing dinner. The sun set early tonight but the moon is full so it isn’t that inconvenient. I close my eyes and hope that I get to dream about something good.
“Penanggalan! Penanggalan!”Aish’s shouts wake me up and I don’t know if it’s another one of his Malaysian customs, but right now I am not interested in a cultural exchange. Aish shakes me from my hammock and says, “Where is the food!?”
“Look Aish—“ I stop mid-sentence when I see her. It. I know what that is. An ungga-ungga or at least that’s what they call it in these parts, back in Bikol we just call them anananggal. The tour groups would always try to scare tourists with stories of the witch that flies with its guts hanging out. I don’t take another moment before I run like hell. I should have stayed in my house.
“Where is the food?!” Aish shouts again. “This is no time to think about your stomach!” I scream as I run alongside him. I don’t think I’ll ever get Malaysians. “I’m serious!” he shouts again, so why not, if the guy wants his last meal then I won’t stop him. “It’s behind the tent.”
Aish dashes to the tent and the ungga-ungga follows him. I was never the brave one but Aish is still my friend. Kind of. I have to run back and get him. I see him with a pineapple and he throws it at the thing and hits it. I don’t know what’s happening but the ungga-ungga screams and flies away.
I just stand there, confused.
“Where I come from, pineapples are grown because their thorns keep the Penanggalan away. The thorns go into their lungs and intestines which makes it harder for them to fly. I knew that would work just as well here.” Aish smiles and hands me some snacks.
“You hungry?”
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*Central Bicol, commonly called Bicol Naga, is the most-spoken language in the Bicol Region of southern Luzon, Philippines. It is spoken in the northern and western part of Camarines Sur, second congressional district of Camarines Norte, eastern part of Albay, northeastern part of Sorsogon, San Pascual town in Masbate, and southwestern part of Catanduanes. Central Bicol speakers can be found in all provinces of Bicol and it is a majority language in Camarines Sur.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Monmon Nietes
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Monmon Nietes
Inspired by the Ananaggal entry in Bikol Beliefs and Folkways: A Showcase of Tradition. Nasayao 2010.
Anananggal Illustration by Leandro Geniston fromAklat ng mga Anito
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Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
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