Each feather a story and each story a life.
The patterns flutter, but always remind them of home.
A home far away, but always near.
=—————————-=
When I was young we didn’t have the comforts of a modern home.
Every afternoon our elders would tell us tales from a forgotten time, our imaginations stoked by their flair for the dramatic.
My favorite one was about the M’ra Bolawan.
It is our Maratabat, our pride.
From the Sdpan* to the Sbangan** it would journey.
My elders would say that no matter where we are, the M’ra Bolawan would know and under its wings we would find comfort.
I am now far away from the land where I was born, in the kingdom of the shifting sands.
And here I wait for its wisdom to reach me.
=————————–=
“These are my people and I will not leave them.” The golden bird scoffed at the very idea.
“I meant no disrespect, wise one.” The Adarna bowed their head.
“We were just wondering about your journey, when will it end?” Sumayang Galura, first of all birds, reached out with their wing.
“Every century I travel through the lands of earth and sky, learning much and imbibing the wisdom that persists above all.”
“But what is that for?” The Adarna asked sheepishly.
“My people are a proud breed and in recent times they are far away from their home. I visit them as a reminder.”
“A reminder of what?”
“That the world is smaller than they think.”
“How do you mean, great peacock?”
“In the lands of my people, once subjugated by foreign rule, life is difficult. Many crocodiles steal the future of the people they claim to represent. Because of that they travel to the far off lands of the east, making a living among foreign words and the scorching sun.”
“And what wisdom can you give them then?”
“That they are not alone. Even among the sands there are bonds formed by the blood of our community. They may be far from the lake, but they are never far from their family.”
“You say that with such longing.”
“I feel for my people. It is not easy being in unfamiliar situations. I make sure they are protected.”
“As you should. They are fortunate to have a spirit as great as you looking out for them.”
“Of course, no matter where I am, I will always return to them.”
“Let us talk about our journeys then. I apologize for the interruption of your tale. Ou said you visited the realms of the Skyworld?”
“I sojourned to the edge of the horizon, yes.”
“What wisdom did you glean from there?”
“I learned about the lengths one can go through to sacrifice for their people.”
“This tale is known to me. Is it the goddess of mercy from the land of the hills?” The Sumayang Galura asked.
“The very same.”
“I am not familiar with this story.” The Adarna bowed their head. “Who is this goddess?”
“Her name is Sappia and this is her tale.”
=————————————=
In a time long past the goddess of mercy walked among her human charges. She saw their toil and felt their pain.
In their hunger they cried out to the heavens.
And Sappia was there to answer their prayers.
She noticed weeds growing around the breadths of her lands.
There she made her sacrifice.
Life giving milk showered the weeds, turning them to rice as white as ivory.
Her people rejoiced.
She was not finished.
Her breasts would no longer make milk and she forced herself and red watered the weeds.
The people could still eat what she had watered.
And thus red rice was made. ***
=——————————-=
“A grand tale,” the Adarna said.
“One with much to teach.” The Mra Bolawan looked almost forlorn. “I only hope to measure up to her love for her people.”
“Where else have you journeyed?”
“I have another tale from the lands of the north. This tale shows that obedience and fealty is sometimes necessary for the good of all.”
=—————————————=
It is said that in the north, Kadaklan is the pinnacle of the spirit born. He is feared throughout his lands, terror following in his wake. Obedience is demanded because of his power, yet even he has a being stronger than he.
The supreme being of those lands was called Bagatulayan, and it was known that even Kadaklan would bow to him. Kadaklan would punish those that would offend the great god, keenly aware of his place.
Kadaklan is the thunder. He is the lightning.
The punisher of the wicked
The always obedient. ****
=—————————————–=
“What do you make of the tale, great bird?” The Mra Bolawan asked Sumayang Galura.
“I have many subjects that obey me as Kadaklan obeys Bagatulayan. We must all know our place, for it is there we can flourish.”
“You are wise, though not as wise as me.”
“Know your place, peacock.” The Sumayang Galura furrowed its feathered brow.
The Mra Bolawan scoffed.
“What other tales do you have, great peacock?”
“I have one, about the glory one can reach in the soul of their community.”
“Do you mean the spirit talkers?” The Adarna asked.
“Yes, they give up much to be able to see the spirit world, but to them there is no higher glory than using their newfound gifts to serve their people. I have had the opportunity to talk to a spirit talker about her journey.”
“This is her tale.”
=—————————————=
Agboboni***** was the name they had for those that commune with the spirits.
She was pushed into the calling, not like the others who prepared since birth, but she answered the call anyway.
Instead of her initiation she was possessed by a great spirit, and after, she was cast aside. Her new gifts shredding her with fear.
They looked at her differently then, but she did not mind.
The voices of the spirits preoccupied her thoughts.
I talked to her during a ritual. I knew she had power when she ignored me, instead focusing on looking for the soul of one of her people.
After the success of the ritual, we talked.
She told me,
To the spirits be the glory.
I am but a vessel.
=————————————–=
“I have not heard many spirit talkers give the spirits that much credit,” the Adarna said.
“That is why I remember her story. Giving glory to those above you is one of the truest signs of humility.”
“We could all use more humans like them.” The Sumayang Galura laughed.
“I have spent much time in the north, though I could live without talking to their gods.”
“I do not like them as well, all too free in being tricksters to their own people.”
“Have you heard about the goddess of chaos?”
“The patron of Assassins, spies, thieves, kidnappers and arsonists?” The Sumayang Galura looked amused.”
“There is such a goddess?”
“Yes, a sharp reflection of their people.”
“The humans she watches over have a history of warfare amongst themselves, having kingdoms called Balen. The conflicts would be blood feuds, clan warfare and territorial disputes. It is because of this that the goddess arose. She filled a need and the rest followed.”
“Do they still fight amongst themselves?”
“Not in current times, but the call for blood still remains.” *****
=——————————————–=
“It is time.” The M’ra Bolawan flapped their wings. “I must leave you both.”
“Goodbye great peacock. May we cross paths again soon.” The Sumayang Galura nodded.
“Thank you for sharing your wisdom.” The Adarna bowed their head.
=——————————————–=
I saw it and my heart was full.
Before me was our Maratabat, our pride.
It told of wonderous places and old gods.
It told me of community and family.
It told me all its collected wisdom.
It told me of our homes on the lake.
It told me of love.
The M’ra Bolawan left after what seemed like time flowing through an eternity.
I have received its wisdom and now I will share it to my people.
For our Maratabat.
=——————————-=
*A place where the sun is set
** A place where the sun is rising
***Retold from Damiana Eugenio
**** Retold from The Tinguians and Their Old Form of Worship. Philippine Studies, Vol. 3, No. 4 (DECEMBER, 1955), pp. 403-414
*****A Kapampangan myth
=—————————-=
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by the M’ra Bolawan myths from the M’ranaw People and Jamal Mananggolo
M’ra Bolawan Illustration by Pat Zulueta
IG: @patzulueta_art
FB: patriciazuluetaart
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