*Note this story is in Cebuano

Naay usa ka sugilanon nga gipasa gikan sa mga diyos labot sa higante ug ang bulan. Hinilom na tono lamang ang ilang paghisgot sa mga nahitabo kada eklipse ug di sila mudawat sa ilang responsibilidad aning ilang bahin sa storya.

Nagsukod kini sa bakilid sa  Bukid sa Macolot.

Karon, ang mga diyos kay mabinantayon sa ilang mga misteryo. Kabalo sila nga kung ang mga tao makasulod sa ilang sekreto, gubot ra ang mahitabo, ug hangtod sa hangtod ang kailibutan kay mautro.

Maong gitago nila ilang eliksir sa mapaapil-apilong mga mata sa mga mortal, ug uban niini,ang misteryo sa kinabuhing walay katapusan.

Mao to ang nahitabo hangtod niabot ang higante.

Bisan karon, wala kabalo ang mga diyos ug giunsa pagtilaw sa higante sa eliksir.

Ingon ang uban na ni suksuk ug nitago sa bato ang higante, ug naminaw samtang nagstorya ang  mga diyos. Ana ang uban na ang higante kay nagtakuban lamang na lider sa mga tao ug nag-ispiya kini sa mga diyos hangtod sa nakita niya kung giunsa paghimo sa eliksir.

Sa laing lugar, ana sila na ang higante kay demonyo nga gilimbong sa mga diyos. Diri na istorya, ang mga diyos ug demonyo gikutaw ang gatas na dagat,para makuha ang eliksir,na gitawag ug amrita. Nakita sa adlaw ug bulan ang demonyo, apan sa kani na punto, nainom na sa demonyo ang eliksir ug nahimo na kining immortal. Giputol ang ulo niini, ug matag eklipse, ginagukod sa putol na ulo ug ang kaparis na lawas niini, ang bulan ug ang adlaw.

Apan, ang higante nakahimo ug paraan para matilawan ang eliksir, ug kaparehas lamang ang resulta.

Ang kahibalo sa elixir ug sa walay katapusan nga pagkabatan-on mikalap sa kayutaan.

Syempre, wala kini tuguti sa mga diyos. Sa kasuko sa panghitabong paglapas, gipangita nila nga walay kapuslanan ang naghimo niini. Hangtod sa nitubag ang bulan sa ilang tawag.

Gisugo sa mga diyos na mutug-an ang bulan kung kinsa ang nikuha sa sekreto sa ekilsir ug gitugyan niini ang higante.

Ang higante, agi ug balos, gigukod niini ang bulan ug gisulayan pagtulon.

Ang kalibutan sa mga tao dili na mabalik sa dati kay sugod ato ila nang nakita ang gitawag na eklipse sa bulan.

Sukad ato, giampingan najud sa mga diyos ang sekreto sa iliksir na makahatag ug kinabuhing walay katapusan, gitago nila kini dili lamang sa mga tao, apan apil na pud sa mga kapares na demonyo.

=——————–=

English Version

There is a tale passed down from the gods about the giant and the moon.

They speak in hushed tones about what transpires every eclipse yet will not take responsibility for their part of the story.

It began on the slopes of Mount Macolot.

Now the gods were careful about their mysteries. They knew that if mortals would gain access to their secret pandemonium would occur and the world would be changed forever.

So, they hid their elixir away from the prying eyes of mortals, and with it, the mystery of immortality.

That is, until the giant came.

To this day the gods are unclear about how the giant tasted the elixir.

Some say the giant snuck his way in and hid beneath a rock, eavesdropping on the conversations of the gods.

Others say the giant was a mortal ruler in disguise that spied on the gods until he saw how the elixir was made.

In another land they say that the giant was a demon that was tricked by the gods. In this story the gods and demons churned the milk ocean to extract the elixir (called the amrita). The sun and moon noticed him, though at this point the demon had imbibed the elixir and was thus immortal. Its head was cut off and both the head and its body chased the moon and the sun during eclipses.

However the giant managed to get a taste of the elixir, the result was the same.

The knowledge of the elixir and of eternal youth was spread through the lands of men.

The gods did not let that stand, of course. Angered by this trespass they searched in vain for the perpetrator. That is, until the moon answered their calls.

The gods demanded that the moon tell them who took the secret of the elixir and the moon surrendered the giant.

The giant, in turn, chased the moon and tried to swallow it up.

From there the world of men would never be the same for it was then that mortals noticed the eclipse of the moon.

The gods have since been careful about the secret elixir of immortality, hiding its mysteries from mortal and demon alike.

=—————–=

*The Cebuano language, alternatively called Cebuan and also often colloquially albeit informally referred to by most of its speakers simply as Bisaya (“Visayan”, not to be confused with other Visayan languages nor Brunei Bisaya language), is an Austronesian regional language spoken in the Philippines by about 21 million people, mostly in Central Visayas, western parts of Eastern Visayas and most parts of Mindanao, most of whom belong to various Visayan ethnolingusitic groups, mainly the Cebuanos. It is the by far the most widely spoken of the Visayan languages, which are in turn part of wider the Philippine languages. The reference to the language as Bisaya is not encouraged anymore by linguists due to the many languages within the Visayan language group that may be confused with the term.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Cebuano Translation by Cristine Jane Orias
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Cristine Jane Orias

Adapted from Aurelio P. Arguelles. Batangas Folktales. From the National Library of the Philippines, H. Otley Beyer Ethnographic Collection. http://nlpdl.nlp.gov.ph/OB01/NLPOBMN0037001055/home.htm and Jose P. Caedo. “Kinain ñg Lajo.” From the National Library of the Philippines, H. Otley Beyer Ethnographic Collection. http://nlpdl.nlp.gov.ph/OB01/NLPOBMN0037001056/home.htm

Rajo Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

*Note this story is in Ilocano

Iddiay Amianan, iti lugar nga maaw-awagan Lagui, nagnaed ti maysa a billit a managan ti Apan. Ni Apan ken dagiti kapadana ket naggapu iti adayo nga amianan-a-daya, ngem gapu iti nakaro a winter iti dayta a lugar, nagturongda iti umabagatan, iti lugar dagiti “windmills.”

Maysa nga aldaw, kabayatan a waywayaan ti init ti idadateng ti bulan, nakasirpat ni Apan iti maysa a tumatayab nga saannapay a nakitkita iti napalabas.. Addan uppat a winter manipud nai-pessa, ket impapanna nga ammona aminen a klase ti billit a sumangbay iti Lagui. Daytoy a billit ket saan met a “kingfisher,”  “starling,” wenno billit-tuleng. Mangipalagip  daytoy kadagitii kuago ti ruot nga agan-anup iti asidegna, ti kinaatiddog  dagiti payak ken ti rupana, ngem ditan nga aggibus ti pagpadaanda.

Awan kadagiti billit ti naranniag kas kadagiti bituen.

Nabannogen ni Apan gapu ti nagmalmalem nga panagbirokna iti taraon. Ngem saan daytoy a nanglapped ti panagtayabna nga agturong iti ayan ti billit, tapno mapennek ti panagusiusona.

Saan unay met a  dakkel daydiay a billit, mangipalagip kadagiti pato ken ul-ullaw nga kanayonna nga ad-adayoan. Uray iti adayo, mabalinna nga suroten ti billit, banag nga nanam-ay para ken ni Apan. Inwardas ti billit dagiti payakna sa nagdisso iti maysa a sanga.

Bayat iti panangipangatona kadagiti payakna, nakita ni Apan ti paggapuan ti lawagna. Iti sirok dagiti payak ket adda saggaysa a bola nga umap-apoy, Nagsiddaaw ni Apan no kasano nga saan a mauram ti apoy ti billit. Nagtayab iti ababa ta ipagarupna nga saan a makita ti billit, ket nagdiso iti maysa a sanga iti ngatuen ti billit.

Kasla maysa nga estatwa ti billit. Ti saan nga agkutkuti nga langa daytoy ken kasla nangpaseggar kenni Apan. “ Ania ngata ti maaramid daytoy a billit,” nasaludsodna.

“ Ammok nga addaka dita,” nagsao met laeng.

Saan a naggaraw ni Apan. Ammona nga adda isuna iti disso a di makita ti billit.

“Umayka ditoy ta agsaritata, “ imbilin ti billit.

Insigida a nagtayab iti ngato ni Apan ket nagdisso iti abay ti billit. Saan a narruam a sirriing iti rabii ket kasla dumagsen ti payakna iti panagtulid ti oras, ngem saanna nga maiyebkas ti ragsakna. Naidumduma ti pannakabirokna iti maysa a baro a banag a mabalinna a sukimaten.

Sinangona ti billit ket nagsaludsod, “ Aniaka kadi?”

Nagkatawa ti billit, “ Diretso ka, ania?”

Imbabana dagiti payakna ket nalingdan dagiti bola nga umap-apoy.

“Maysaak met a billit a kasla kenka.’

“Saanka a kas kadagiti gagangay a billit a nakitkitakon, ken uppaten a winter nga um-umayak ditoy.

“Maysaak a naipangpangruna a billit, “ insungbatna.

“Apay nga adda apoy iti sirok dagiti payakmo? Kasano a dika mapuoran?”

“Maysaka a nausisa a billit,” nakunana. “ Apay a kayatmo a maammuan?”

“Saanak pay a pulos a nakaimatang ti nakadadaeg a tumatayab iti law-ang. Kayatko nga ibaga kadagiti dadduma a billit iti katiponak ti maipapan kenka. “

“ Ala ngarud, “ ti sungbat ti billit. “ Ibagak kenka ti maipapan kaniak. Ngem sakbayna, masapol nga sungbatam daytoy a saludsod.”

“ Sige, “ ti sungbat ni Apan, “ uray ania tapno mangngegko ti pakaestoriaam.”

“ Ania ti pammatim iti gasat?”

Saan a napakadaan ni Apan daytoy. Saanna a ninamnama daytoy a saludsod ti billit, Dagiti kasla kaniana ket saan a mangdakdakamat kadagiti nangato a kapanunotan kas iti gasat. Kontentodan nga agturong kadagiti nabara a lugar ken mangbirok ti sumaruno a taraonda.

Isu nga idi sumungbat..

“Diak ammo no adda kasta.Ti gasat ket para laeng kadagiti bannuar ken ari, saan a nanumo a billit kas kaniak.”

Nagkatawa ti billit.” Pudno kadi a dayta ti patpatiem?”

“Wen, mamatiak.”

Makaassian ti billit a nangkita ken Apan.” Amin a parsua ket adda gasatda a sursurotenda.Ti panangtalikod kadayta ket panangtalikod iti bukod a bagi.”

“Ket sika? Ania ti kapanunotam maipanggep iti gasat?”

“Ti gasat ket kasla angin. Mabalinna ti agpayogpog a kasla bagyo wenno pumoyot a kas iti arasaas kadagiti dutdotmo. Saan a mapagkedkedan, mangisangpet iti masakbayan a maagka no  dimo ikaskaso.”

Nagulimek ni Apan. Awan ti mabirokna a sao nga isungbat iti billit.

Intuloy ti billit.

“Amin a biag ket parte iti maysa a nangatngato a banag.Ti apagdarikmat a panagbalbaliw ti angin a gapuen ti panagpayakpak dagiti payakmi ket mangitunda iti maysa a ngilaw iti lugar nga dina pay naad-addakan. Nalawag nga amin a biag ket  apektaran nga inaldaw dagiti puwersa nga saan tayo pulos a matukod. Inton maawatan tayon dayta, masapul nga agrukma  tayon..

“ Ket ania ngarud ti gasatmo?” sinaludsod ni Apan.

“Makitamto.” Kasla umis-isem ti billit.” Ket gaputa addaka ditoy, sungbatak ti saludsodmo.”

“Daytoyak,” kinunana.

“Maysaka nga apoy?” Ginandat nga awaten ni Apan ti kayat nga ibaga ti billit.

“Siak ti apoy ken mangallilaw.”

“Ngem maysaka a billit. Kasano koma a dua ti kinataom?

“Kumitaka iti ngato,” imbilin ti billit.”Dandanin ti orasna.”

“Oras para iti anya?”

“Para iti tudo.”

Iti dayta a kanito, narikna ni Apan ti tedted ti tudo iti ulona. Ken dagiti nagsasaruno.

Kasla nalipatan ti billit ti saritaanda ken nagtayab a nagpangato iti ayan dagiti ulep a paggapuan ti tudo.

Ginandat ni Apan a pukkawan ti billit, tapno damagenna ti kayatna a sawen.

Naawatna ti sungbat babaen iti ranniag a dandani nangbulsek kaniana.

Nagbalin nga apoy ti billit, maysa a bola ti nakarangrangrang a gil-ayab a nakabitin iti law-ang. Saanen nga ammo ni Apan no mano nga oras a mangbuybuya iti bola ti apoy. Apagapaman nga binittak ti init ti sipnget, nagpukawen ti apoy ken nagsubli metten ni Apan iti pangenna.

Saannan a mauray nga ibaga  kaniada ti maipapan iti billit.

Ngem nadagsen dagiti sao ti billit kaniana.

“ Ti kinatao tayo kadi ket maibasar laeng iti gasat tayo?

=——————————=

English Version

In the North, in a place called Lagui, there lived a bird called Apan. Apan and her kind were from the far northeast, but the harsh winters in that land made them migrate southwards to the land of windmills.

One day, as the sun was giving way to the moon, Apan caught a glimpse of a bird she had never seen before. It had been four winters since she had been hatched and she thought she knew all the birds that came to flock in Lagui. The bird was not a kingfisher, a starling, nor a sparrow. It did remind her of the grass owls that hunted near her perch, with its wingspan and face, but the similarities ended there.

None of those birds ever glowed like starlight.

Apan was tired, having spent the whole day foraging for food. That didn’t stop her from flying towards the bird to sate her curiosity.

The bird was not that large, it reminded Apan of the ducks and kites that her kind avoided. Even from far away the bird could be followed which was convenient for Apan. The bird spread its wings and perched on a nearby branch.
As it lifted its wings up Apan saw the source of its glow. Under each of its wings there was a ball of intense fire. Apan wondered how the fire didn’t consume it. She flew low thinking that the bird would not see her and roosted on a branch under the bird.

It seemed like the bird was a statue. The unmoving countenance of it gave Apan chills. “What would this bird do?” she wondered.

“I know you’re there,” it finally spoke.

Apan did not move. She was sure she was in a place where the bird could not see her.

“Come here and we shall talk,” the bird said.

With that, Apan flew above and rested beside the bird. She was not nocturnal and the hours of night felt heavy upon her wings, but she had never felt such exhilaration. It was rare to find something completely new that she could explore.

She faced the bird and asked, “What are you?”
The bird laughed, “Straight to the point, aren’t you?”
It put its wings down, covering the balls of fire.
“I am, like you, a bird.”

“You are not like any kind of bird I have ever seen, and I have been going here for four winters,” said Apan.
“I am a special kind of bird,” it replied.

“Why do you have fire under your wings? How does it not consume you?”

“You are a very curious bird,” it answered, “why do you want to know?”

“Never have I seen such majesty flying through the skies, I would like to tell the other birds of my flock about you.”
“Very well,” said the bird, “I will tell you my story. But first you must answer a question.”

“Of course!” Apan said, “anything to hear your story.”

“What do you believe about destiny?”

Apan was caught off guard. She had not expected this kind of question from the bird. Her kind did not think of grand things such as destiny, they were content to fly to warm places and find their next meals.

And thus she answered:

“I do not know if it exists. Destiny is a word that describes heroes and kings, not a lowly bird such as I.”

The bird laughed. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes, I do.”

The bird looked at Apan with pity, “Every living being has a destiny that they follow. To deny that is to deny yourself.”

“What about you? What do you think about destiny?”

“Destiny is like the wind. It can blow with the wild abandon of a hurricane or the smallest of whispers on your feathers. It cannot be denied, it brings a future that would be foolish to ignore.”

Apan fell silent. She could not find the words to reply to the bird.

The bird continued, “All life is part of something much larger. A brief change in the air caused by the flap of our wings could make it so that a fly would end up where it might never have gone. It is clear that all life is affected every day by forces beyond our comprehension. And once we realize that, we must surrender.”

“And what is your destiny?” Apan asked.

“You will see it later.” The bird almost looked like it was smiling. “And since you are here I will answer your question.”

The bird once again raised its wings so that the balls of fireballs were visible. Apan was worried that her feathers would burn being so close to fire, but she was surprised at the warm glow that washed over her form.

“This is what I am,” said the bird.

“You are the fire?” Apan tried to understand what the bird was trying to tell her.

“I am the fire and a deceiver.”

“But you are a bird. How can you be both?”

“Look up,” the bird said, “it is almost time.”

“Time for what?”

“For the rain.”

At that moment Apan could feel a raindrop hit her head. And another. And another.

The bird seemed to forget their conversation and flew high towards the rainclouds.

Apan tried to shout at the bird, to ask what it meant.

She received her answer in a luminescence that nearly blinded her.

The bird became fire, a ball of bright flame hanging in the sky. Apan didn’t know how many hours she had spent staring at the ball of fire. Once the morning sun broke through the twilight the light disappeared and Apan made her way back to her flock.

She couldn’t wait to tell them about the bird.

But the bird’s words weighed heavy on her.

Are we only what our destiny is?

————————————————————————–

*Ilocano is the third most-spoken local language of the Philippines.An Austronesian language, it is related to such languages as Malay (Indonesian and Malaysian), Tetum, Chamorro, Fijian, Maori, Hawaiian, Samoan, Tahitian, Paiwan and Malagasy. It is closely related to some of the other Austronesian languages of Northern Luzon, and has slight mutual intelligibility with the Balangao language and the eastern dialects of the Bontoc language.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Ilocano translation by Maria Jesusa Villaruz
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Maria Jesusa Villaruz

Inspired by the Sansilmo bird legends from Ilocos and “Sansilmo, the Light Deciever.” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002. and an Interview with Migo Luis (2015)

The Sansilmo Bird Illustration by Alvin Gasga
FB: Art of Alvin

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Sa Norte, sa lugar na tinatawag na Lagui, may nakatirang ibon na nagngangalang Apan. Nagmula sa malayong hilagang-silangan si Apan at ang kaniyang uri, ngunit bunsod ng marahas na taglamig sa lupaing iyon, lumipad sila patimog sa lugar na maraming molino.

Isang araw, habang nagpaparaya ang araw sa pagsikat ng buwan, may nasulyapan si Apan na ibong noon niya lamang nakita. Apat na taglamig na ang lumipas mula nang siya ay isilang, at akala niya ay alam na niya ang lahat ng ibong dumarayo sa Lagui. Ang ibong iyon ay hindi susulbot, galansiyang, o maya. Naalala niya roon ang mga ngiwngiw na nangangaso malapit sa sangang pahingahan niya dahil sa mukha at dipa ng mga pakpak niyon, ngunit hanggang doon lamang ang pagkakawangis.

Wala sa mga ibong naisip niya ang may liwanag na parang bituin.

Pagod na si Apan dahil buong araw siyang naghanap ng makakain, subalit hindi iyon naging hadlang upang lumipad siya papalapit sa ibon sa pagnanais niyang makita iyon nang mas mabuti.

Hindi kalakihan ang ibon. Naalala rito ni Apan ang mga pato at saranggola na iniiwasan ng kaniyang uri. Madaling sundan ang ibon kahit sa malayo, na magandang bagay para kay Apan. Ibinuka ng ibon ang mga pakpak nito at dumapo ito sa isang sanga sa malapit.

Nang iangat ng ibon ang mga pakpak nito, nakita ni Apan ang pinagmumulan ng liwanag nito. May bolang nagbabaga sa ilalim ng bawat pakpak ng ibon. Nagtaka si Apan kung paano nangyaring hindi nilalamon ng apoy ang ibon. Binabaan niya ang kaniyang lipad sa pag-aakalang hindi siya makikita ng ibon at dumapo siya sa isang sanga sa ilalim nito.

Tila rebulto ang ibon. Kinilabutan si Apan sa bikas nitong walang-tinag. Naisip niya, “Ano ang gagawin ng ibong ito?”

“Alam kong nariyan ka,” ang sambit ng ibon, sa wakas.

Hindi gumalaw si Apan. Sigurado siyang nakapuwesto siya sa lugar kung saan hindi siya makikita ng ibon.

“Halika’t mag-usap tayo,” ang sabi ng ibon.

Kaya naman, lumipad si Apan upang tumabi sa ibon. Hindi siya sanay nang gising sa gabi at nakakaramdam na siya ng bigat sa kaniyang mga pakpak, ngunit noon lamang siya nakadama ng ganoong kagalakan. Bihirang magkaroon ng pagkakataong makahanap ng bagay na bago at maaari niyang usisain.

Humarap siya sa ibon at nagtanong. “Ano ka?”

Tumawa ang ibon. “Hindi ka nagpapaligoy-ligoy, ano?”

Ibinaba ng ibon ang mga pakpak nito at natakpan ang mga bola ng apoy.

“Tulad mo, isa akong ibon.”

“Wala kang katulad sa mga ibong nakita ko na dati, at apat na taglamig na akong pumupunta rito,” ani Apan.

“Isa akong espesyal na uri ng ibon,” ang tugon nito.

“Bakit ka may apoy sa ilalim ng iyong mga pakpak? Paano nangyaring hindi ka nilalamon nito?”

“Napakamausisa mong ibon,” ang sagot nito. “Bakit mo gustong malaman?”

“Ngayon lamang ako nakakita ng nilalang na lumilipad sa kalangitan nang may taglay na angking karingalan. Nais kitang ikuwento sa iba pang ibon sa aking langkay.”

“O, siya,” ang sabi ng ibon. “Sasabihin ko sa iyo ang aking kuwento. Bago iyon, may tanong ako na dapat mong sagutin.”

“Sige!” ani Apan. “Gagawin ko ang lahat, marinig ko lamang ang iyong kuwento.”

“Ano ang paniniwala mo sa usapin ng kapalaran?”

Nabigla si Apan. Hindi niya inaasahang magbabato ng ganoong klase ng tanong ang ibon. Hindi nag-aabala ang kaniyang uri sa mga dakilang bagay na tulad ng kapalaran. Nalulugod na silang lumipad patungo sa maiinit na lugar at maghanap ng makakain.

Kaya naman, ganito ang isinagot niya:

“Hindi ko alam kung talagang may ganoon. Isang salita ang kapalaran na naglalarawan sa mga bayani at hari, hindi sa abang ibon na gaya ko.”

Tumawa ang ibon. “Pinaniniwalaan mo ba talaga iyan?”

“Oo.”

Tumingin ang ibon kay Apan nang may awa na bakas sa mukha nito. “May kapalarang sinusundan ang bawat nabubuhay na nilalang. Kapag hindi mo iyon tinahak, malaki ang ipinagkakait mo sa iyong sarili.”

“Ikaw naman, ano ang palagay mo sa kapalaran?”

“Maihahalintulad sa hangin ang kapalaran. Maaari itong umihip nang kasinglakas ng unos o kasinghina ng dampi sa iyong balahibo. Hindi ito maaaring tanggihan; may dala itong kinabukasan na kung babalewalain ay maituturing na isang kahangalan.”

Napatahimik si Apan. Hindi niya alam kung ano ang kaniyang isasagot sa ibon.

Nagpatuloy ang ibon: “May mas malaking kinababahagian ang lahat ng buhay. Sa munting pagbabago sa hangin na bunsod ng pagpagaspas natin sa ating mga pakpak, maaaring makarating ang isang langaw sa lugar na kung hindi dahil doon ay hindi nito pupuntahan. Malinaw na naaapektuhan ang lahat ng buhay bawat araw ng mga puwersang hindi natin lubusang maiintindihan. At kapag napagtanto na natin iyon, dapat tayong sumuko.”

“At ano ang iyong kapalaran?” ang tanong ni Apan.

“Makikita mo mamaya.” Halos tila nakangiti ang ibon. “At dahil narito ka, sasagutin ko ang iyong tanong.”

Muling inangat ng ibon ang mga pakpak nito upang ipakita ang mga bola ng apoy. Nag-alala si Apan na masusunog ang kaniyang balahibo sa lapit niya sa apoy, ngunit nagulat siya sa init na bumalot sa kaniyang katawan at kaibuturan.

“Ito ako,” ang sambit ng ibon.

“Ikaw ang apoy?” Sinubukang unawain ni Apan ang sinasabi sa kaniya ng ibon.

“Ako ay apoy at manlilinlang.”

“Ngunit isa kang ibon. Paano ka naging mga bagay na iyon?”

“Tumingala ka,” ang sabi ng ibon. “Malapit na ang oras.”

“Oras ng ano?”

“Ng ulan.”

Sa sandaling iyon, may naramdaman si Apan na patak ng ulan sa kaniyang ulo. At isa pang patak. At isa pa.

Tila nakalimutan na ng ibon ang pag-uusap nila at pumailalang ito patungo sa mga ulap na may dalang ulan.

Sinubukang sumigaw ni Apan upang itanong sa ibon kung ano ang ibig nitong sabihin.

Natanggap niya ang sagot na hinahanap niya sa anyo ng liwanag na halos makabulag.

Naging apoy ang ibon—isang nag-aalab na bola sa kalangitan. Hindi alam ni Apan kung gaano katagal siyang nakatitig sa bola ng apoy. Pagsapit ng bukang-liwayway, naglaho ang liwanag ng apoy at bumalik na si Apan sa kaniyang langkay.

Nasasabik na siyang ikuwento sa kanila ang ibon.

Gayunpaman, dala niya ang bigat ng mga salitang binitiwan ng ibon.

Nakakulong ba tayo sa ating kapalaran?

=————————————-=

In the North, in a place called Lagui, there lived a bird called Apan. Apan and her kind were from the far northeast, but the harsh winters in that land made them migrate southwards to the land of windmills.

One day, as the sun was giving way to the moon, Apan caught a glimpse of a bird she had never seen before. It had been four winters since she had been hatched and she thought she knew all the birds that came to flock in Lagui. The bird was not a kingfisher, a starling, nor a sparrow. It did remind her of the grass owls that hunted near her perch, with its wingspan and face, but the similarities ended there.

None of those birds ever glowed like starlight.

Apan was tired, having spent the whole day foraging for food. That didn’t stop her from flying towards the bird to sate her curiosity.

The bird was not that large, it reminded Apan of the ducks and kites that her kind avoided. Even from far away the bird could be followed which was convenient for Apan. The bird spread its wings and perched on a nearby branch.
As it lifted its wings up Apan saw the source of its glow. Under each of its wings there was a ball of intense fire. Apan wondered how the fire didn’t consume it. She flew low thinking that the bird would not see her and roosted on a branch under the bird.

It seemed like the bird was a statue. The unmoving countenance of it gave Apan chills. “What would this bird do?” she wondered.

“I know you’re there,” it finally spoke.

Apan did not move. She was sure she was in a place where the bird could not see her.

“Come here and we shall talk,” the bird said.

With that, Apan flew above and rested beside the bird. She was not nocturnal and the hours of night felt heavy upon her wings, but she had never felt such exhilaration. It was rare to find something completely new that she could explore.

She faced the bird and asked, “What are you?”
The bird laughed, “Straight to the point, aren’t you?”
It put its wings down, covering the balls of fire.
“I am, like you, a bird.”

“You are not like any kind of bird I have ever seen, and I have been going here for four winters,” said Apan.
“I am a special kind of bird,” it replied.

“Why do you have fire under your wings? How does it not consume you?”

“You are a very curious bird,” it answered, “why do you want to know?”

“Never have I seen such majesty flying through the skies, I would like to tell the other birds of my flock about you.”
“Very well,” said the bird, “I will tell you my story. But first you must answer a question.”

“Of course!” Apan said, “anything to hear your story.”

“What do you believe about destiny?”

Apan was caught off guard. She had not expected this kind of question from the bird. Her kind did not think of grand things such as destiny, they were content to fly to warm places and find their next meals.

And thus she answered:

“I do not know if it exists. Destiny is a word that describes heroes and kings, not a lowly bird such as I.”

The bird laughed. “Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes, I do.”

The bird looked at Apan with pity, “Every living being has a destiny that they follow. To deny that is to deny yourself.”

“What about you? What do you think about destiny?”

“Destiny is like the wind. It can blow with the wild abandon of a hurricane or the smallest of whispers on your feathers. It cannot be denied, it brings a future that would be foolish to ignore.”

Apan fell silent. She could not find the words to reply to the bird.

The bird continued, “All life is part of something much larger. A brief change in the air caused by the flap of our wings could make it so that a fly would end up where it might never have gone. It is clear that all life is affected every day by forces beyond our comprehension. And once we realize that, we must surrender.”

“And what is your destiny?” Apan asked.

“You will see it later.” The bird almost looked like it was smiling. “And since you are here I will answer your question.”

The bird once again raised its wings so that the balls of fireballs were visible. Apan was worried that her feathers would burn being so close to fire, but she was surprised at the warm glow that washed over her form.

“This is what I am,” said the bird.

“You are the fire?” Apan tried to understand what the bird was trying to tell her.

“I am the fire and a deceiver.”

“But you are a bird. How can you be both?”

“Look up,” the bird said, “it is almost time.”

“Time for what?”

“For the rain.”

At that moment Apan could feel a raindrop hit her head. And another. And another.

The bird seemed to forget their conversation and flew high towards the rainclouds.

Apan tried to shout at the bird, to ask what it meant.

She received her answer in a luminescence that nearly blinded her.

The bird became fire, a ball of bright flame hanging in the sky. Apan didn’t know how many hours she had spent staring at the ball of fire. Once the morning sun broke through the twilight the light disappeared and Apan made her way back to her flock.

She couldn’t wait to tell them about the bird.

But the bird’s words weighed heavy on her.

Are we only what our destiny is?

————————————————————————–

**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 Maui Felix
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Maui Felix

Inspired by the Sansilmo bird legends from Ilocos and “Sansilmo, the Light Deciever.” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002. and an Interview with Migo Luis (2015)

The Sansilmo Bird Illustration by Alvin Gasga
FB: Art of Alvin

*Note this story is in Cebuano.

Gilikayan ni Aguihao ang panan-aw sa mumbaki* samtang nagkupot sa panapton nga nagtabon sa iyang tuong bukton.

“Kaisog gud nimong moanhi nako aron mangayo og pasaylo sa espiritu,” miingon ang mumbaki samtang nagtan-aw sa bukton ni Aguihao.

“Gibuhat nako ang kinahanglan nakong buhaton alang sa akong pamilya,” tubag ni Aguihao, nga gipalabi ang pagtan-aw sa yuta kaysa pag tan aw sa mumbaki nga mata sa mata.

“Imo’ng giyurakan ang mga tradisyon sa among mga katigulangan! Mao na ni ang paagi sa amo’ng kinabuhi sulod sa mga henerasyon ug mangahas ka sa pagkuwestiyon niini?!”

“Wala ka kasabot! Wala ka kahibalo kung unsa ka ka swerte nga gitugotan ang mga espiritu nga mosulti pinaagi kanimo samtang ang mga sama kanako kinahanglan nga maghago adlaw-adlaw tungod sa imong ‘mga balaod’.”

“Kana’ng mga balaod gidumala sa mga espiritu, ang pagsupak niini mao ang pagsupak sa kapalaran.”

“Tingali ang imong kapalaran, apan dili ang ako.”

Usa ka kalit nga kahilom ang mipuno sa hangin ug gibuak kni sa mumbaki.

“Hubua na,” mando niya kang Aguihao.

Ang mga lut-od sa panapton mipagawas sa usa ka nihubag nga samad nga nagtulo ug nana. Ang nawong ni Aguihao halos dili makatago sa kasakit ug sa unang higayon mitan-aw siya sa mga mata sa mumbaki. Adunay kaluoy didto ug gamay nga pagmahay.

“Isulti kanako ang imong istorya,” miingon ang mumbaki.

“Nagsugod kini sa pagkamatay sa akong asawa.”

“Nahinumdom ko niana. Mitambong ang mombangol**.”

“Oo, ug  wala na nako ang tanan. Gikiinahanglan nakong iprenda ang akong kabtangan aron makakuha ang ug panggasto para sa lamay.”

“Kitang tanan kinahanglang mosunod sa mga ritwal. Sulod sa lima ka adlaw ang mga baboy ug mga kabaw kinahanglang ihalad ngadto sa mga diyos ug mga spiritu.”

“Dili makatarunganon ang pagkuha gikan sa mga uyamut nga wala’y bisan unsa.”

“Imortal ang kalag. Kinahanglan natong buhaton ang tanan nga atong mahimo aron masiguro nga makaplagan niini ang dapit niini sa kinabuhi human niining kinabuhia.”

“Sa sulod sa lima ka adlaw gilamayan namo siya ug gipalingkod sa handel***.”

“Ug nahimo nimo ang kinahanglan nimong buhaton base sa atong mga tradisyon.”

“Apan dili kini patas! Mas nisamut pa ko ka uyamut kaysa kaniadto.”

“Dili lang kini bahin sa lamay, dili ba?”

“Dili, dili.”

“Isulti kanako ang uban pa sa imong istorya.”

“Ako ang ikalima nga anak sa akong mga ginikanan. Sila walay kakapoy nga nagtrabaho aron makapundar ug kabtangan alang sa ilang mga anak ug bisan sa ilang mga giagiang pagsulay nakatigom sila og lima ka humayan ug kalasangan. Sa dihang kaslon na ang akong magulang nga lalaki, nakuha niya ang katunga sa tulo ka bahin sa propiedad. Ug ang uban gibahin sa akong kamagulangang babaye ug sa akong usa pa ka igsoon nga lalaki. Gihatag pa gani nila sa akong kamagulangang igsoong babaye ang balay sa pamilya. Wala nay nabilin pa sa nahabilin kanamo.

“Miyatak ka sa peligrosong lugar. Ang pagpangutana niini mao ang paglihok batok sa panaghiusa. Ang kahigayonan sa usa ka tawo sa kinabuhi usa lamang ka gamay nga sakripisyo aron maseguro nga ang mga tradisyon masunod.”

“Aduna ko’y utang nga mosunod kanako hangtod sa akong kamatayon, nga masunod usab sa akong mga anak ug ilang mga anak. Gibuhat nako ang akong mahimo aron mahatagan sila ug higayon. ”

“Mao ba kana ang hinungdan nga miadto ka sa balay sa imong igsoon?”

“Daghan kaayo siya’y iya, dili na niya mamatikdan kung mawalaan siya sa uban niyang kwarta. Nagkinahanglan lang ko og gamay nga kantidad.”

“Ug unya gidakop ka sa espiritu.”

“Wala ko kahibalo nga ang akong igsoong lalaki adunay espiritu nga may tigpanalipod sa iyang mga butang.”

“Mosulay ka ba sa pagpangawat kon nahibal-an nimo?”

“Oo. Kung alang lang sa akong pamilya.”

Laing kahilom ang mipuno sa lawak, apan niining higayona si Aguihao na ang mibuak niini.

“Adto sa ko, mumbaki. Nakita nako sa imong mga mata nga nakalapas ko dili lang sa kabtangan sa akong igsoon kon dili sa mga tradisyon usab sa among tribo. Sobra na kaayo ang pagpangayo og pasaylo alang sa duha, ug kini ang akong penitensiya.”

Samtang nagbarog si Aguihao aron molakaw palayo, giisa sa mumbaki ang iyang kamot.

“Huwat sa,” singgit sa mumbaki.

“Buhaton ba nimo ang ritwal?” pangutana ni Aguihao.

“Nasayod ka ba nga usa ako sa kataposang mumbaki sa atong mga probinsiya?”

“Nakadungog ko nga nagkagamay ang mga tawo nga nagkupot sa kupo sa mumbaki.”

“Tingali kini ang timaan sa mga panahon, o tingali ang mga espiritu wala na magtugot sa ilang kaugalingon nga madungog. Himalatyon na ang karaang mga paagi, Aguihao. Ang mga batan-on mas gusto nga adunay usa ka piraso nga papel nga nag-ingon nga sila ‘edukado’ kaysa mopasalig sa pagkat-on sa mga pag-ampo ug pag-awit sa atong mga tawo. Nakigsulti sila sa ilang diyos nga adunay tulo ka kinaiya sa usa ug nagsimba sa mga templo nga bato.

“Ila bang sala? Unsa may nahibilin alang kanato dinhi?”

“Tingali mobati ka nga wala dinhi, apan ang mga espiritu labing kusog nga mulanog sa kahilom.”

Mibarog ang mumbaki ug mikupot sa bukton ni Aguihao.

“Sa pagkakaron, magkinahanglan kami og manok.”

*Mumbaki/Mombaki mao ang Babaylan sa kultura sa mga Ifugao

**Ang labaw sa nga mumbaki.

***Lingkuranan nga gihimo sa ilawom sa balay

=——————————————————-=

English Version

Aguihao avoids the gaze of the mumbaki* as he clutches the fabric covering his right arm.

“I am amused by the nerve you have coming to me to ask for the spirit’s forgiveness,” the mumbaki says as he looks at Aguihao’s arm.

“I did what I needed to do for my family,” Aguihao answers, preferring to look at the ground than meet the mumbaki eye to eye.

“You spit on the traditions of our ancestors! This is the way we have lived for generations and you dare question this?!”

“You don’t understand! You don’t know how lucky you are to let the spirits speak through you while those like me have to toil day after day because of your ‘laws’.”

“Those laws are governed by the spirits, to go against them is to go against destiny.”

“Your destiny maybe, but not mine.”

A pang of silence fills the air and is broken by the mumbaki.

“Take it off,” he commands Aguihao.

The layers of fabric give way to a swollen wound leaking pus. Aguihao’s face barely hides the pain and for the first time looks into the mumbaki’s eyes. There is pity there and a small twinge of regret.

“Tell me your story,” said the mumbaki.

“It started with the death of my wife.”

“I remember that. The mombangol** attended.”

“Yes, and I lost everything. I had to mortgage my property to find the funds for the vigil.”

“We all must follow the rituals. For five days pigs and carabaos must be offered to the gods and spirits.”

“It makes no sense to take from those who have nothing.”

“The soul is immortal. We must do all we can to make sure it finds its place in the life after this life.”

“For those five days we mourned her and sat her upon the hangdel***.”

“And you have done as you must do based on our traditions.”

“But it’s not fair! I have even less than what I had before.”

“This is not just about the vigil is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“Tell me the rest of your story.”

“I am the fifth child of my parents. They had worked tirelessly to save property for their children and through their trials they had accumulated five rice fields and forests. When my older brother was to be married, he got one half of three fourths of the property. And the rest was divided among my eldest sister and my other brother. They even gave my eldest sister the family home. The rest of us were left with nothing.”

“You tread on dangerous ground. Questioning this is acting against unity. One’s chance in life is but a small sacrifice to ensure that the traditions are upheld.”

“I am in a debt that will follow me until I die, that my children and their children will inherit. I did what I could to give them a chance.”

“Is that why you went to your brother’s house?”

“He has so much, he wouldn’t notice some money missing. I just needed a small amount.”

“And then the spirit caught you.”

“I did not know that my brother had the spirit invoked to protect his belongings.”

“Would you have tried to steal had you known?”

“Yes. If only for my family.”

Another spate of silence filled the room, but this time it was Aguihao that broke it.

“Goodbye, mumbaki. I can see it in your eyes that I have trespassed not only on my brother’s property but also on the traditions of our tribe. It is much too much to ask forgiveness for both, and this would be my penance.”

As Aguihao stood to walk away the mumbaki raised his hand.

“Stay,” the mumbaki intoned.
“Will you do the ritual then?” Aguihao asked.

“Do you know I am one of the last mumbaki among our provinces?”

“I have heard that less and less people were taking up the mantle of the mumbaki.”

“It may be the sign of the times, or maybe the spirits aren’t letting themselves be heard. The old ways are dying Aguihao. The young would rather have a piece of paper that says they are ‘educated’ than committing to learning the prayers and chants of our people. They speak to their god with three natures in one and worship in stone temples.”

“Is it their fault? What is there that is left for us here?”

“You may feel that there is nothing here, but the spirits echo loudest in the silence.”

The mumbaki stands up and clutches Aguihao’s arm.

“For now, we will need a chicken.”

=————————————————————–=

*Mumbaki/Mombaki are shamans in Ifugao culture.

**The chief mumbaki.

***An improvised chair constructed under the house.

=—————————————————=

*The Cebuano language, alternatively called Cebuan and also often colloquially albeit informally referred to by most of its speakers simply as Bisaya (“Visayan”, not to be confused with other Visayan languages nor Brunei Bisaya language), is an Austronesian regional language spoken in the Philippines by about 21 million people, mostly in Central Visayas, western parts of Eastern Visayas and most parts of Mindanao, most of whom belong to various Visayan ethnolingusitic groups, mainly the Cebuanos. It is the by far the most widely spoken of the Visayan languages, which are in turn part of wider the Philippine languages. The reference to the language as Bisaya is not encouraged anymore by linguists due to the many languages within the Visayan language group that may be confused with the term.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Cebuano Translation by Christine Rom
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Christine Rom

Inspired by the Pili description in Gibson’s Sacrifice and Sharing in the Philippine Highlands (London School of Economics Monographs on Social Anthropology,n.57); The Athlone Press: London, UK, 1986.

Pili Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

*Note this story is in Cebuano

“Daddy! Naa nasad siya!!”

Minglingi si Danilo sa iyang asawa nga wa kadungog sa sampit sa ilang anak tungod sa
ka-hinanok sa iiyang pagkatulog. Ming barog siya samtang naghandum sa gi sulti sa
Psychologist. Duha na ka bulan ang minglabay gikan sa lubong apan ang kasakit nag pabilin.

Sa edad nga sinco anyos, ilang gituhu-an nga si Maine bata pa kaayo aron makasabot sa mga
panghitabo.

Nakita gayud nila ang kausaban. Kining bataa kani-adto lagsik og lihok mingkalit lag ka hilom.
Gisamutan pani sa mga hulagway nga kanunay gi druwing sa bata.

Unang nakabantay si Miss Grade sa mga druwing paglabay sa pipila ka adlaw gikan sa
paglubong nila sa iyang lola. Pag una, gituhuan nila nga coping mechanism lang kini sa bata
tungod sa kamatayon sa iyang lola. Tingaleg gusto ni Maine nga handumon iyang lola unya
isabyag sa kalibutan.

Apan, nabantayan nalang ni Miss Grace nga hinay hinay na nga mugamit si Maine og mga
baga-on nga kolor susama sa itom og puwa sa iyang mga druwing. Ang kalmado og
mang-atimanon nga hulagway sa babae sa drawing ni Maine gipulihan man ug makahadlok nga
hulagway,hangtud sa kini aduna nay mga dagong nganga ug nagbitay nga dila.

Katong gi pangutana ang bata bahin sa iyang mga druwing igo ra kini mi tubag nga “pirme ni
siya mo Hii nako inig ka gabie. Hilabi na kung pagngon na ni mama og papa ang mga suga,
makita nako siya bintana. Mao to nangayu ko nilag suga aron dili siya ka duol nako.”

Tungod ato, gi-rekomendar ni Miss Grace kang Danilo nga ilang dalhon si Maine sa usa ka
Psychologist aron magiyahan si Maine sa iyang nasinati karon. Buot man, ilang gi timan-an ang
mga pulong sa Psychologist og ila pun’g nasag-ulo ang dapat nilang isulti kung makig-istorya
kang Maine.

Nanuktuk si Danilo sa pultahan sa iyang anak. Iya kining gipanguta kung pwede ba siyang
musulod.

“Daddy, guba ang suga di na musiga unya makita na nako siya!”

Wa na tuod nag siga ang suga sa tapad sa iyang katre. Minglingkod si Danilo tapad kang
Maine.

“Di ko ganahan niya. Hadlok kaayo siya.”

Sa tan-aw ni Danilo murag nahadlok man gyud tuod iyang anak samtang iya kining gigakos. Diri
na niya nahimunduman ang gisulti sa Psychologist. Kailangan niyang tubagon ang kahadlok sa
iyang anak pinagi sa pag agak og pag atiman. Iyang gipangutana iyang anak kung tungod ba
gyud ni sa babae sa bintana o tungod sa iyang lola.

“Ana si Lola nako nga kung palong daw ang suga unya abli ako mga mata, makita daw nako
ang babae.”

Nasayud na si Danilo aning istoryaha. Mao kini pirme balik balikon ni Maine matag gabie sukad
nga namatay iyang lola.Ming subay siya sa gitudlo sa Psychologist aron pagtubag sa iyang
anak. Iyang gi butang ang gibati sa iyang anak sa iyang mga pulong og gi-ingnan niya kini nga
kahibalo siya nga naguol siya sa iyang lola, ug unsa siya kapinangga sa tanan. Mipuno siya sa
pagsulti nga di to ganahan iyang lola nga mahadlok siya. Giduyugan ni Danilo si Maine sa
paghandum ni Lola aron maibanan ang kaguol.

Sa katong nahuman na sila sa ilang paghadum, nakita ni Danilo ang ka kapuy sa mga mata ni
Maine maong iya kining gi-ingnan nga oras na para mupahuway siya og balik. Ming tando si
Maine og mi-ingon “Okay, daddy. Pero palihug kog bilin sa suga nga nag siga. Di ko ganahan
maka kita niya.”

Ming tando si Danilo ug gi-ablihan ang pultahan aron makasulod ang kahayag. Nasayud siya
nga maghinanglan pag taas taas nga panahon si Maine aron maka lingkawas sa kaguol nga
iyang gi bati. Kailangan niyang mahimong mapasi

=————————————————–=

English Version

“Daddy! She’s here again!!”

Danilo looked to his right and saw that his wife was sound asleep, the cries of their child ineffective against her current dream. He stood up and thought about what the psychologist said to say.

The funeral had been finished about two months ago, but the scars still lingered. At 5 years old they thought that Maine was too young to understand what was happening.

But a few weeks after, Miss Grace had asked to speak to them about what Maine was doing in class.

The little girl that was so bright and filled with energy had become despondent and silent.

And that was separate from the drawings.

Miss Grace noticed the first drawing a few days after they buried her lola. At first, she thought that it was a way of coping. Maybe Maine wanted to channel her grandmother and tried to put those feelings out into the world.

Then Miss Grace saw Maine use darker colors, always red and black.; the calm, caring face of the woman in her drawings becoming more grotesque, the later ones having a gaping jaw and a long tongue.

When Maine was asked what she was drawing the girl would just reply, “She always says hi to me at night. When Mama and Papa turn the lights off, I can see her by the window so I told them to give me a light so she can’t go near me.”

Miss Grace recommended that the family see a psychologist to help Maine get through this difficult time and her parents agreed. They took the words of the psychologist to heart and memorized how they should talk to their daughter.

Danilo knocked on his daughter’s door and asked if he could come in.
“Daddy the light isn’t working and I can see her!”

Maine was right, the nightlight by her bedside was pitch black and definitely broken. He sat by her bedside and asked her what was wrong, carefully remembering to use clear words to let her understand.

“I don’t like her. She’s scary.”

She did seem scared and Danilo took his daughter in his arms. It was at this point that the advice of the psychologist kicked in. Responding to her fear with comfort and reassurance. He asked her if it was really about a woman in the window, and changed the topic to her lola.

“Lola used to tell me about her. She said that if the lights were off and if my eyes were open, I could see the woman.”

Danilo knew this part of the story well enough, it was something that Maine repeated every night since her lola passed. He returned to using the psychologist’s advice. He put her emotions into words, telling her that he knows she feels sad about her lola, and how much everyone loved her. He told her that lola wouldn’t want her to be scared. They sat together and talked about lola, thinking back to happy memories to activate positive feelings.

When they finished remembering Danilo saw the tiredness in Maine’s eyes and told her it was time to get some rest.

She nodded and said, “Okay daddy, but please put the lights on. I don’t want to see her.”

Danilo nodded and opened the door to let the light in. He knew that it would take time for her to heal from the loss and he would be as patient as he needed to be for Maine’s sake.

After all, it’s what parents do.

=—————————————————————=

*The Cebuano language, alternatively called Cebuan and also often colloquially albeit informally referred to by most of its speakers simply as Bisaya (“Visayan”, not to be confused with other Visayan languages nor Brunei Bisaya language), is an Austronesian regional language spoken in the Philippines by about 21 million people, mostly in Central Visayas, western parts of Eastern Visayas and most parts of Mindanao, most of whom belong to various Visayan ethnolingusitic groups, mainly the Cebuanos. It is the by far the most widely spoken of the Visayan languages, which are in turn part of wider the Philippine languages. The reference to the language as Bisaya is not encouraged anymore by linguists due to the many languages within the Visayan language group that may be confused with the term.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Cebuano Translation by Julius Cesar Cudera
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Julius Cesar Cudera

Inspired by a story told by  Teresita Gasga

Kulukupap Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

*Note this story is in Waray

Ginlilikayan ni Aguihao nga makipagtukuran sa mumbaki* samtang kapot-kapot niya an an tela nga nagtatakop sa kanya tuo nga butkon.

“Di ak makatoo sa imo sa pagduok saak para mangaro pasaylo sa mga espiritu” sugad sa mumbaki samtang gintutukod an butkon ni Aguihao.

“Kinahanglan ko himuon ak angay himuon para sa ak pamilya” baton ni Aguihao nga mas ginpili nga manukod sa salog kaysa sa makipagtukuran sa mumbaki.

“Gintitiawan mo an tradisyon sa at mga kaapuyan! Sugad na kit sini nabuhi sa pira ka-henersayon tapos yana ginkekwestyon mo?!”

“Di ka nasabot! Di ka maaram kun nano ka kaswerte nga nakikihampang saim an mga Espiritu samtang an mga pareho saam, kinahanglan maningkamot adlaw adlaw tungod sa iyo mga balaod.”

“Iton nga mga balaod kay balaod sa mga Espiritu, an dire pagsunod sa mga balaod kay dire pagsunod sa kabubuwason nga para saim.”

“Imo siguro kabubuwason, pero dire para saak.”

Tigda nagmingaw an palibot pero ginwakay gihapon sa mumbaki.

“Tangtanga iton,” sugad niya kan Aguihao.

Natatangtang an doble-doble nga tela ngan tinambad an nagtutubig ngan nagnanana nga samad. Dire matago ni Aguihon an sakit ngan sa una nga beses, nakatukod na gihapon siya sa mata sa mumbaki. Maiimdan an pagkalooy ngan tala nga pagbasol.

“Sugara saak im istorya,” sugad sa mumbaki.

“Nagtikang an tanan sa kamatay saak asawa.”

“Nahinumdom ak siton. Adto pa ngani an mombangol**.”

“Oo, ngan nawara saak an tanan. Ginprenda ko an ak mga tutuna para yaon ak panggastos sa lamay.”

“Kinahanglan ta sundon an mga ritwal. Sa sulod sa lima kaadlaw, kinahanglan maghalad mga baktin ngan karabaw sa mga ginoo ngan espiritu.”

“Waray pulos nga kuhaan an mga waray na daan.”

“Imortal an kalag. Kinahanglan ta himuon an tanan para sigurado nga mahingadto sa karadtuan sa sunod nga kinabuhi.”

“Sa sulod sa lima kaadlaw ginhayaan namo siya ngan ginbutang sa hangdel***.”

“Ngan ginhimo mo kun nano an dapat himuon nga basi sa tradisyon.”

“Pero dire patas! Mas nawaraan pa ak kaysa sa una.”

“Dire ini hiunong sa lamay hano?”

“Dire ngani.”

“Hala sige ipadayon im istorya.”

“Ikalima ak sa magburugto. Gindurutuhan saak ak kag-anak para makatirok tutuna para sa kanra mga anak, ngan bisan sa kadamo sa kakurian nga gin-again, nakatirok sira lima nga taranuman ngan mga bukid. San ikarasal ak gurang nga lalaki, ginhatag sa kanya an tunga sa sobra sa tunga sa mga tutuna. An nahibilin kay gintunga-tunga sa am tigurangi nga bugto nga babaye ngan sa ak sayo nga bugto nga lalake. Ginhatag lat nira saam magurang nga babaye an amon balay. Wara nahibilin saam nga iba nga magburugto.”

“Delikado im ginaagihan nga dalan. An pagpinangutana sin-sine kay dire maupay sa pagkasarayo. An sayo nga tsansa sa kinabuhi kay ditoy la nga sakripisyo para masigurado nga nasusunod an tradisyon.”

“Damo ura-ura ak utang nga susundan ak abot sa ak kamatay, ngan maeeredar pa saak mga anak hangtod sa kanra pa mga anak. Ginhimo ko la ak kaya para mahatagan sira tsansa.”

“Mao iton an rason kun nano kinadto ka sa balay saim bugto nga lalake?”

“Damo an kanya kwarta ngan dire niya mapapansin nga may kulang. Nanginahanglan la ak tala nga kantidad.”

“Pero nadakpan ka sa mga Espiritu”

“Dire ak maaram nga gintawag sa ak bugto an mga Espiritu para bantayan an kanya mga butang.”

“Mangangawat ka ba kun nahibaro ka?”

“Oo. Kun para saak pamilya.”

Nagmingaw na lat an kanra palibot pero yana, si Aguihao na an binuong sa kamingaw.

“Makadto na ak, mumbaki. Naiimdan ko saim mata nga dire la an mga butang saak bugto ak nalabtan kundi pati an tradisyon saat tribo. Dako nga butang an pangaro pasaylo sa duha, ngan mao ini akon angay buhaton.”

Sa titugbos na si Aguihao para lumakaw, gin-igbaw sa mumbaki an kanya kamot.

“Dida ka la” sugad sa mumbaki.

“Hihimuon mo na an ritwal?” pangutana ni Aguihao.

“Maaram ka ba nga sayo ak sa mga nahitutura nga mumbaki sa amo probinsya?”

“Nabatian ko ngani nga tagditoy nala an nasunod sa pagigin mumbaki.”

“Mao na siguro an senyales sa panahon, di ngani, mao an paagi sa mga Espiritu nga dire sira mabatian.  Tikamatay na an daan nga mga paagi, Aguihao. Mas pipilion pa sa mga kabatan-on yana an ditoy nga papel nga nagsusugad nga “edukado” sira kaysa sa mahibaro sa mga ampo ngan kanta saat mga tawo. Nakikihampang sira sa kanra ginoo nga tulo an pagkatawo ngan mag dayaw sa mga bato nga templo.”

“Kanra ba iton sala? Nano pa an nahibilin para saat didi?”

“Sa im pag-abat wara na nahibilin didi, pero makaburungol la gihapon an mga Espiritu sa kamingawan didi.”

Tinugbos an mumbaki kapot-kapot an bukton ni Aguihao.

“Sa yana, kinahanglan ta manok.”

=—————————————=

English Version

Aguihao avoids the gaze of the mumbaki* as he clutches the fabric covering his right arm.

“I am amused by the nerve you have coming to me to ask for the spirit’s forgiveness,” the mumbaki says as he looks at Aguihao’s arm.

“I did what I needed to do for my family,” Aguihao answers, preferring to look at the ground than meet the mumbaki eye to eye.

“You spit on the traditions of our ancestors! This is the way we have lived for generations and you dare question this?!”

“You don’t understand! You don’t know how lucky you are to let the spirits speak through you while those like me have to toil day after day because of your ‘laws’.”

“Those laws are governed by the spirits, to go against them is to go against destiny.”

“Your destiny maybe, but not mine.”

A pang of silence fills the air and is broken by the mumbaki.

“Take it off,” he commands Aguihao.

The layers of fabric give way to a swollen wound leaking pus. Aguihao’s face barely hides the pain and for the first time looks into the mumbaki’s eyes. There is pity there and a small twinge of regret.

“Tell me your story,” said the mumbaki.

“It started with the death of my wife.”

“I remember that. The mombangol** attended.”

“Yes, and I lost everything. I had to mortgage my property to find the funds for the vigil.”

“We all must follow the rituals. For five days pigs and carabaos must be offered to the gods and spirits.”

“It makes no sense to take from those who have nothing.”

“The soul is immortal. We must do all we can to make sure it finds its place in the life after this life.”

“For those five days we mourned her and sat her upon the hangdel***.”

“And you have done as you must do based on our traditions.”

“But it’s not fair! I have even less than what I had before.”

“This is not just about the vigil is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“Tell me the rest of your story.”

“I am the fifth child of my parents. They had worked tirelessly to save property for their children and through their trials they had accumulated five rice fields and forests. When my older brother was to be married, he got one half of three fourths of the property. And the rest was divided among my eldest sister and my other brother. They even gave my eldest sister the family home. The rest of us were left with nothing.”

“You tread on dangerous ground. Questioning this is acting against unity. One’s chance in life is but a small sacrifice to ensure that the traditions are upheld.”

“I am in a debt that will follow me until I die, that my children and their children will inherit. I did what I could to give them a chance.”

“Is that why you went to your brother’s house?”

“He has so much, he wouldn’t notice some money missing. I just needed a small amount.”

“And then the spirit caught you.”

“I did not know that my brother had the spirit invoked to protect his belongings.”

“Would you have tried to steal had you known?”

“Yes. If only for my family.”

Another spate of silence filled the room, but this time it was Aguihao that broke it.

“Goodbye, mumbaki. I can see it in your eyes that I have trespassed not only on my brother’s property but also on the traditions of our tribe. It is much too much to ask forgiveness for both, and this would be my penance.”

As Aguihao stood to walk away the mumbaki raised his hand.

“Stay,” the mumbaki intoned.
“Will you do the ritual then?” Aguihao asked.

“Do you know I am one of the last mumbaki among our provinces?”

“I have heard that less and less people were taking up the mantle of the mumbaki.”

“It may be the sign of the times, or maybe the spirits aren’t letting themselves be heard. The old ways are dying Aguihao. The young would rather have a piece of paper that says they are ‘educated’ than committing to learning the prayers and chants of our people. They speak to their god with three natures in one and worship in stone temples.”

“Is it their fault? What is there that is left for us here?”

“You may feel that there is nothing here, but the spirits echo loudest in the silence.”

The mumbaki stands up and clutches Aguihao’s arm.

“For now, we will need a chicken.”

=——————————————————–=

*Mumbaki/Mombaki an tawag sa paragbulong sa barang sa Ifugao. (Mumbaki/Mombaki are shamans in Ifugao culture.)

**The chief mumbaki.

***An improvised chair constructed under the house.

*Waray is the fifth-most-spoken native regional language of the Philippines, native to Eastern Visayas. It is the native language of the Waray people and second language of the Abaknon people of Capul, Northern Samar and some Cebuano-speaking peoples of eastern and southern parts of Leyte island. It is the third most spoken language among the Visayan languages, only behind Hiligaynon and Cebuano.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Waray translation by Jmee Juanerio
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Jmee Juanerio

Inspired by the Pili description in Gibson’s Sacrifice and Sharing in the Philippine Highlands (London School of Economics Monographs on Social Anthropology,n.57); The Athlone Press: London, UK, 1986.

Pili Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

*Note this story is in Bicol-Naga

“Papa, oya na naman siya!!!”

Kuminiling sa tuo si Danilo asin naheling niya ang saiyang agom turogon pa, ang manga hibe kan saindang aki dae man naka-purisaw sa nangingi-turugan.  Nagtingdog si Danilo asin naisip ang sinabi kan psychologist.

Natapos ang lubong magkaka-duwang bulan na ang naka-agi pero manga pila nagu-unog pa.  Ini-isip ninda na ang singko aῆos na si Maine akion pa para maintindihan ang manga nangyari.

Alagad makatapos nin perang semana,  nagpasing-tabi si Miss Grace na kaulayon sinda manungod sa gibo-gibo ni Maine sa klase.

Ang dating neneng na madunong y pano nin enerhiya nagging mamundo asin mayong girong.

Asin iyan suway  pa sa manga drawings.

Na notisya ni Miss Grace ang enot na drawing ni Maine magka-perang  aldaw pakatapos ilubong ang lol ani kaine.  Kan enot inisip niya na eto paagi nin pag-atubang. Siguro gusto ni Maine na maging medio ang saiyang lola asin iluwas sa kinaban ang saiyang manga namamatean.

Dangan naheling ni Miss Grace ang pag-gamit ni Maine nin madidiklom na kolor, pirmeng pula asin itom; ang kalmado, maataman na lalaogon kan babaye nagiging mas abnormal, sa huring manga drawings iguang naka-nganga asin halabaon ang dila.

Kan hinapot si Maine kung ano ang pigdro-drawing niya ine ang simbag, “Sa banggi pirme na siya na hi sakuya.  Pagpig-parong nina Mama asin Papa ang manga ilaw, naheheling ko siya sa may bentana kaya sinabii ko sainda na ilawan ako sa cuarto para dae ang babaye makarane sako.”

Ni-rekomendar ni Miss Grace sa family na magpaheling si Maine sa psychologist para matabangan alpasan ineng oras nin kadeficilan asin ine inuyonan kan manga magurang.

Nagtoktok si Danilo sa puertahan kan aki asin naghapot kung puedeng mag-laog.

“Daddy ang ilaw dae nag-gagana asin naheheling ko siya.”

Totoo na ang nightlight sa may katre ni Maine may diperensya asin itom-kadiklom ang cuarto. Nagtukaw sa gilid kan katre si Danilo asin naghapot kung ano ang problema, mariparo siya sa gamit nin klarong tataramon para maintindihan kan aki.

“Habo ko saiya. Nakaka-takot siya,”

Garo takot na takot talaga si Maine asin kinugos ni Danilo ang aki.  Sa oras na ine suminipa ang advice kan psychologist. Ranga, karinyo, asin asertasyon ang mga simbag niya sa takot ni Maine. Hinapot niya ang aki kung ine talaga manungod sa babaye sa may bentana, asin iniba niya ang urulay para sa lola.

“Pig-istoryahan man ako ni lola kaidto manungod sa babaye. Sabi niya na pagparong ang mga ilaw asin bukas ang sakong manga mata, maheheling ko ang babaye.”

Aram-araman na ni Danilo ang istorya, ta ine bara-banggi nire-repitir ni Maine magpuon na nagadan ang lola niya.  Balik si Danilo sa advice kan psychologist.  Inihatag sa sayod ang manga mate kan aki, ginigimata na aram niya ang namamatean kaine na pagmundo para sa lola, asin ang orog na pagmamahal saiya kan gabos.  Sinabi ni Danilo na si lola habo na matakot siya. Nagtukaw sinda asin nagulay-ulay manungod ki lola, ni-recuerdo ang mga maogmahon na naka-agi para mabuhay ang manga positibong kamatean.

Pagkatapos pag-girumdom naheling ni Danilo ang kapagalan sa manga mata ni Maine kaya oras na para magpahingalo.

Tuminango ang aki asin sinabi, “Okay daddy, pero paki-bukas kan ilaw.  Habo Kong maheling siya.”

Nagtango si Danilo asin binukas ang puerta para maglaog ang liwanag kan ilaw hale sa kasunod na cuarto. Nai-intindihan niya na kaipuhan ni Maine ang panahon para marahay asin magigin pasensyoso siya para sa aki.

Total iyan ang magi-ginibo kan mga magurang.

=——————————————————————=

“Daddy! She’s here again!!”

Danilo looked to his right and saw that his wife was sound asleep, the cries of their child ineffective against her current dream. He stood up and thought about what the psychologist said to say.

The funeral had been finished about two months ago, but the scars still lingered. At 5 years old they thought that Maine was too young to understand what was happening.

But a few weeks after, Miss Grace had asked to speak to them about what Maine was doing in class.

The little girl that was so bright and filled with energy had become despondent and silent.

And that was separate from the drawings.

Miss Grace noticed the first drawing a few days after they buried her lola. At first, she thought that it was a way of coping. Maybe Maine wanted to channel her grandmother and tried to put those feelings out into the world.

Then Miss Grace saw Maine use darker colors, always red and black.; the calm, caring face of the woman in her drawings becoming more grotesque, the later ones having a gaping jaw and a long tongue.

When Maine was asked what she was drawing the girl would just reply, “She always says hi to me at night. When Mama and Papa turn the lights off, I can see her by the window so I told them to give me a light so she can’t go near me.”

Miss Grace recommended that the family see a psychologist to help Maine get through this difficult time and her parents agreed. They took the words of the psychologist to heart and memorized how they should talk to their daughter.

Danilo knocked on his daughter’s door and asked if he could come in.
“Daddy the light isn’t working and I can see her!”

Maine was right, the nightlight by her bedside was pitch black and definitely broken. He sat by her bedside and asked her what was wrong, carefully remembering to use clear words to let her understand.

“I don’t like her. She’s scary.”

She did seem scared and Danilo took his daughter in his arms. It was at this point that the advice of the psychologist kicked in. Responding to her fear with comfort and reassurance. He asked her if it was really about a woman in the window, and changed the topic to her lola.

“Lola used to tell me about her. She said that if the lights were off and if my eyes were open, I could see the woman.”

Danilo knew this part of the story well enough, it was something that Maine repeated every night since her lola passed. He returned to using the psychologist’s advice. He put her emotions into words, telling her that he knows she feels sad about her lola, and how much everyone loved her. He told her that lola wouldn’t want her to be scared. They sat together and talked about lola, thinking back to happy memories to activate positive feelings.

When they finished remembering Danilo saw the tiredness in Maine’s eyes and told her it was time to get some rest.

She nodded and said, “Okay daddy, but please put the lights on. I don’t want to see her.”

Danilo nodded and opened the door to let the light in. He knew that it would take time for her to heal from the loss and he would be as patient as he needed to be for Maine’s sake.

After all, it’s what parents do.

=—————————————————————=

*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
Bicol Translation by Patricia P SanJose
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Patricia P SanJose

Inspired by a story told by  Teresita Gasga

Kulukupap Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Iniiwasan ni Aguihao ang tingin ng mumbaki habang hawak niya ang telang nakabalot sa kanang braso niya.

“Nagulat ako sa lakas ng loob mong magpunta sa akin para humingi ng tawad sa espiritu,” sinasabi ng mumbaki habang nakatingin sa braso ni Aguihao.

“Ginawa ko ang kinakailangan kong gawin para sa aking pamilya,” sagot ni Aguihao, na piniling tumingin sa lupa kaysa harapin ang mumbaki ng mata sa mata.

“Niluraan mo ang tradisyon ng ating mga ninuno! Sa ganitong paraan tayo namuhay sa loob ng ilang henerasyon at kinukuwestiyon mo ito?!”

“Hindi mo naiintindihan! Hindi mo alam kung gaano ka kasuwerte na hinahayaan mong magsalita ang mga espiritu sa pamamagitan mo habang ang mga katulad ko ay kailangang magtrabaho araw-araw dahil sa inyong ‘mga batas’.”

“Ang mga batas na iyon ay pinamamahalaan ng mga espiritu, at ang pagsuway sa kanila ay pagsuway sa tadhana.”

“Ang tadhana mo siguro, pero hindi ang sa akin.”

Napuno ng katahimikan ang paligid at binasag ito ng mumbaki.

“Tanggalin mo iyan,” utos niya kay Aguihao.

Ang mga suson ng tela ay nagbigay daan sa isang nagnananang, magang sugat. Halos hindi maitago ng mukha ni Aguihao ang sakit at sa unang pagkakataon ay tumingin siya sa mga mata ng mumbaki. May pagkahabag doon at maliit na kirot ng panghihinayang.

“Sabihin mo sa akin ang kuwento mo,” sabi ng mumbaki.

“Nagsimula ito sa pagkamatay ng aking asawa.”

“Naaalala ko iyon. Dumalo ang mombangol.”

“Oo, at nawala ang lahat sa akin. Kinailangan kong isangla ang mga ari-arian ko para makahanap ng pera para sa lamay.”

“Lahat tayo ay kailangang sundin ang mga ritwal. Sa loob ng limang araw, kailangang mag-alay ng mga baboy at mga kalabaw sa mga diyos at mga espiritu.”

“Walang saysay ang pagkuha mula sa mga walang-wala.”

“Ang kaluluwa ay imortal. Dapat nating gawin ang lahat ng ating makakaya para masigurong mahahanap nito ang lugar nito sa buhay pagkatapos ng buhay na ito.”

“Sa loob ng limang araw na iyon ay pinagluksa namin siya at iniupo siya sa hangdel.”

“At ginawa ninyo ang nararapat base sa ating mga tradisyon.”

“Ngunit hindi ito makatarungan! Mas kaunti na lang ang natira sa akin kaysa sa kung ano ang mayroon ako dati.”

“Hindi lang ito tungkol sa lamay, ‘no?”

“Oo, hindi lang ito tungkol doon.”

“Sabihin mo sa akin ang natitira pa sa kuwento mo.”

“Panglima akong anak ng aking mga magulang. Walang tigil sila sa pagtatrabaho para makapag-ipon ng mga ari-arian para sa kanilang mga anak, at sa kanilang pagpupursigi ay nakaipon sila ng limang palayan at kagubatan. Noong ikakasal ang kuya ko, kinuha niya ang kalahati sa tatlong kapat ng mga ari-arian. At ang natira ay hinati para sa ate ko at isa ko pang kuya. Binigay pa nga sa ate ko ang bahay. Walang naiwan para sa aming mga natira.

“Mapanganib ang tinatayuan mo ngayon. Ang pagkuwestiyon dito ay pagkilos laban sa pagkakaisa. Ang pagkakataon ng isang tao sa buhay ay datapwa’t isang maliit na sakripisyo upang matiyak na nasusunod ng mga tradisyon.”

“Nakalubog ako sa utang na susundan ako hanggang sa kamatayan, na mamanahin ng aking mga anak at ng aking mga apo. Ginawa ko ang makakaya ko para bigyan sila ng pagkakataon.”

“Kaya ba pumunta ka sa bahay ng kuya mo?”

“Sagana naman siya, hindi niya mapapansin ang kaunting perang mawawala. Kailangan ko lang ng maliit na halaga.”

“At nahuli ka ng espiritu.”

“Hindi ko alam na hinimok ng kuya ko ang espiritu na protektahan ang kanyang mga ari-arian.”

“Susubukan mo pa rin bang magnakaw kahit alam mo?”

“Oo, kung para sa pamilya ko.”

Muling napuno ng katahimikan ang paligid, pero sa pagkakataong ito, si Aguihao ang bumasag nito.

“Paalam, mumbaki. Nakikita ko sa iyong mga mata na hindi lang bahay ng kuya ko ang pinanghimasukan ko, kung hindi pati na rin ang mga tradisyon ng ating tribo. Labis ang paghingi ng kapatawaran para sa dalawang ito, at ito ang magiging penitensiya ko.”

Noong tumayo si Aguihao para lumakad palayo, itinaas ng mumbaki ang kamay nito.

“Manatili ka,” sabi ng mumbaki.

“Gagawin mo na ang ritwal?” tanong ni Aguihao.

“Alam mo bang isa ako sa mga natitirang mumbaki sa ating probinsiya?”

“Narinig kong paunti nang paunti ang mga taong gustong maging mumbaki.”

“Maaaring tanda ito ng mga oras, o maaaring hindi na hinahayaan ng mga espiritu na sila ay marinig. Namamatay na ang mga dating kinagawian, Aguihao. Mas gusto ng mga bata ngayon ang isang pirasong papel na nagsasabing sila ay “edukado” kaysa pag-aralan ang mga dasal at awit ng ating bayan. Nakikipag-usap sila sa diyos nilang may tatlong persona sa isa at sumasamba sa mga templong bato.”

“Kasalanan ba nila iyon? Ano pa ba ang natitira dito para sa atin?”

“Maaaring nararamdaman mong wala na, pero pinakamalakas ang alingawngaw ng mga espiritu sa katahimikan.”

Tumayo ang mumbaki at hinawakan ang braso ni Aguihao.

“Sa ngayon, kailangan natin ng manok.”

=—————————————————————–=

English Version

Aguihao avoids the gaze of the mumbaki* as he clutches the fabric covering his right arm.

“I am amused by the nerve you have coming to me to ask for the spirit’s forgiveness,” the mumbaki says as he looks at Aguihao’s arm.

“I did what I needed to do for my family,” Aguihao answers, preferring to look at the ground than meet the mumbaki eye to eye.

“You spit on the traditions of our ancestors! This is the way we have lived for generations and you dare question this?!”

“You don’t understand! You don’t know how lucky you are to let the spirits speak through you while those like me have to toil day after day because of your ‘laws’.”

“Those laws are governed by the spirits, to go against them is to go against destiny.”

“Your destiny maybe, but not mine.”

A pang of silence fills the air and is broken by the mumbaki.

“Take it off,” he commands Aguihao.

The layers of fabric give way to a swollen wound leaking pus. Aguihao’s face barely hides the pain and for the first time looks into the mumbaki’s eyes. There is pity there and a small twinge of regret.

“Tell me your story,” said the mumbaki.

“It started with the death of my wife.”

“I remember that. The mombangol** attended.”

“Yes, and I lost everything. I had to mortgage my property to find the funds for the vigil.”

“We all must follow the rituals. For five days pigs and carabaos must be offered to the gods and spirits.”

“It makes no sense to take from those who have nothing.”

“The soul is immortal. We must do all we can to make sure it finds its place in the life after this life.”

“For those five days we mourned her and sat her upon the hangdel***.”

“And you have done as you must do based on our traditions.”

“But it’s not fair! I have even less than what I had before.”

“This is not just about the vigil is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“Tell me the rest of your story.”

“I am the fifth child of my parents. They had worked tirelessly to save property for their children and through their trials they had accumulated five rice fields and forests. When my older brother was to be married, he got one half of three fourths of the property. And the rest was divided among my eldest sister and my other brother. They even gave my eldest sister the family home. The rest of us were left with nothing.”

“You tread on dangerous ground. Questioning this is acting against unity. One’s chance in life is but a small sacrifice to ensure that the traditions are upheld.”

“I am in a debt that will follow me until I die, that my children and their children will inherit. I did what I could to give them a chance.”

“Is that why you went to your brother’s house?”

“He has so much, he wouldn’t notice some money missing. I just needed a small amount.”

“And then the spirit caught you.”

“I did not know that my brother had the spirit invoked to protect his belongings.”

“Would you have tried to steal had you known?”

“Yes. If only for my family.”

Another spate of silence filled the room, but this time it was Aguihao that broke it.

“Goodbye, mumbaki. I can see it in your eyes that I have trespassed not only on my brother’s property but also on the traditions of our tribe. It is much too much to ask forgiveness for both, and this would be my penance.”

As Aguihao stood to walk away the mumbaki raised his hand.

“Stay,” the mumbaki intoned.
“Will you do the ritual then?” Aguihao asked.

“Do you know I am one of the last mumbaki among our provinces?”

“I have heard that less and less people were taking up the mantle of the mumbaki.”

“It may be the sign of the times, or maybe the spirits aren’t letting themselves be heard. The old ways are dying Aguihao. The young would rather have a piece of paper that says they are ‘educated’ than committing to learning the prayers and chants of our people. They speak to their god with three natures in one and worship in stone temples.”

“Is it their fault? What is there that is left for us here?”

“You may feel that there is nothing here, but the spirits echo loudest in the silence.”

The mumbaki stands up and clutches Aguihao’s arm.

“For now, we will need a chicken.”

=——————————————————————————————————————=

*Mumbaki/Mombaki are shamans in Ifugao culture.

**The chief mumbaki.

***An improvised chair constructed under the house.

Inspired by the Pili description in Gibson’s Sacrifice and Sharing in the Philippine Highlands (London School of Economics Monographs on Social Anthropology,n.57); The Athlone Press: London, UK, 1986.

Pili Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

“Daddy! She’s here again!!”

Danilo looked to his right and saw that his wife was sound asleep, the cries of their child ineffective against her current dream. He stood up and thought about what the psychologist said to say.

The funeral had been finished about two months ago, but the scars still lingered. At 5 years old they thought that Maine was too young to understand what was happening.

But a few weeks after, Miss Grace had asked to speak to them about what Maine was doing in class.

The little girl that was so bright and filled with energy had become despondent and silent.

And that was separate from the drawings.

Miss Grace noticed the first drawing a few days after they buried her lola. At first, she thought that it was a way of coping. Maybe Maine wanted to channel her grandmother and tried to put those feelings out into the world.

Then Miss Grace saw Maine use darker colors, always red and black.; the calm, caring face of the woman in her drawings becoming more grotesque, the later ones having a gaping jaw and a long tongue.

When Maine was asked what she was drawing the girl would just reply, “She always says hi to me at night. When Mama and Papa turn the lights off, I can see her by the window so I told them to give me a light so she can’t go near me.”

Miss Grace recommended that the family see a psychologist to help Maine get through this difficult time and her parents agreed. They took the words of the psychologist to heart and memorized how they should talk to their daughter.

Danilo knocked on his daughter’s door and asked if he could come in.
“Daddy the light isn’t working and I can see her!”

Maine was right, the nightlight by her bedside was pitch black and definitely broken. He sat by her bedside and asked her what was wrong, carefully remembering to use clear words to let her understand.

“I don’t like her. She’s scary.”

She did seem scared and Danilo took his daughter in his arms. It was at this point that the advice of the psychologist kicked in. Responding to her fear with comfort and reassurance. He asked her if it was really about a woman in the window, and changed the topic to her lola.

“Lola used to tell me about her. She said that if the lights were off and if my eyes were open, I could see the woman.”

Danilo knew this part of the story well enough, it was something that Maine repeated every night since her lola passed. He returned to using the psychologist’s advice. He put her emotions into words, telling her that he knows she feels sad about her lola, and how much everyone loved her. He told her that lola wouldn’t want her to be scared. They sat together and talked about lola, thinking back to happy memories to activate positive feelings.

When they finished remembering Danilo saw the tiredness in Maine’s eyes and told her it was time to get some rest.

She nodded and said, “Okay daddy, but please put the lights on. I don’t want to see her.”

Danilo nodded and opened the door to let the light in. He knew that it would take time for her to heal from the loss and he would be as patient as he needed to be for Maine’s sake.

After all, it’s what parents do.

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Written by Karl Gaverza

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by a story told by  Teresita Gasga

Kulukupap Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga