Pt 2 of Appeasing the Moon Serpents
The wind whistles through the bamboo forest and I am still.
Here is where I find them, the monsters that hold the answers. The spirit talkers in my village cannot help, they are blinded by the serpent’s power and their spirit guides do not reply.
Something must be done.
I hear rustling from a nearby bush and I jump to investigate.
I come face to face with an old woman. She graciously bows to me, but I do not respond. I know what she is.
“Get up, I have no time for your tricks,” I say. The old woman laughs, a loud, guttural sound that sends jolts down my spine. But there is no time for fear. It is almost sundown and the bakunawas will come again. I have to do this, for my people.
“Here he is. Who is that fearless one? Who is so brave that he seeks out the people of the forest?” The old woman’s illusion disappears. She is now a creature of the forest, covered in hair and magic.
“I am Adlaw, and I seek you for answers.”
Again, the muwa laughs, echoing through the bamboo. I notice that more of their kind is watching us.
“The child of the sun. Many have heard about him. He takes his weapons. Charges into the forest. And for what? A quick death maybe?”
“I am not here to fight,” I say as I lay down my kris. “I need to know about the bakunawas.”
“The serpents they come. To play with the moon. The lunar orb. They come all nights. And do not tire.”
“Yes, they seek the moon. Every night my village ring the gongs and shout to make the serpents spit out the sun. But we grow weary. Soon we will not be able to hold them off, and the night will be plunged into darkness.”
“The hubris of humans. Thinking that the duty belongs solely to them. We muwa. We bayi-bayi. Know of the moon serpents. And we do not want to see the nights lose their light.”
“Will you help me then? Please tell me what I should do,” I say falling to my knees. My heart skips a beat, rejoicing that I may have finally found the answer.
“It will come at a cost. There is payment to be done,” the muwa approaches me and looks into my eyes. Her hairy face and monstrous visage make me take a step back.
“I will pay whatever price you require,” I say.
“It is not to us that you will pay,” the muwa says. Her face contorts into a macabre grin. “It is to the serpents.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“To stop them from taking the brightness of night. You must go to the cliffs. The serpents will see you. And they will make a choice.”
“What choice?”
“They will decide if your sacrifice is suitable. If it is acceptable to the serpents. They will stop playing with the orb. If you give them your life.”
Her words strike me deep the moment I realize what she is asking of me. I ask her if there is another way and she replies with a blunt “You must choose between yourself and your village, and all other villages.
The muwa picks up my kris and hands it to me.
“Go, child of the sun. Son of the human tribes. It is up to you to stop the serpents. To stop the endless night.”
I take the kris and exhale.
I know what I must do.
I am here at the cliffside, waiting for the sun to set.
On any other day I would have just sat here and enjoyed the view, the pink-orange haze across the horizon is beautiful.
But this was not that day.
The sun sinks below the sea and I prepare myself. The serpents will be here soon.
I think of happier times. I think of my friends. I think of futures I wish I had and pasts I no longer regret.
The village has come with the gongs and I can hear them prepare in the distance.
I chose to do this alone, not telling any soul. I did not want to be a martyr. It is not for my name that I do this. It is for every child that will grow to be a warrior. It is for every family that will now stay together. It is for my mother, that she will live a full life.
It is for them that I do this.
In my final minutes I shout to the skies and goad the serpents towards me.
They fly to me and I smile.
My sacrifice was enough.
In the bamboo forest, a laugh is heard echoing through the branches.
An old woman looks to the sky and basks in the moonlinght. She says to herself, “The child of the sun. Too foolish for his own good. Heeding words he does not know are true. His sacrifice will be remembered. Not by those he saved. But by those he believed.”
Continued from the Bakunawa’s (Kinaray-a) Tale
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Inspired by the Muwa legends from Panay
Muwa Illustration by Billy Joe Pana Fragata
Instagram: @kuy_beige
