*Note this story is in Bicol-Albay

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Ngunyan, sabihon mo iyan na sabay kita”

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Nyan, maray. Pirmi mo iyan tataramon kada maagi kita sa lugar na ini”

“Dai man kita pwede magsigid digdi hadi, mama?”

“Iyo, maray ta narumduman mo. Matalion talaga an aki kong ini!”

“Pero nata ta kaipuhan tang sundon ang mga iyan, mama? Huna ko sadiri ta ining harong?”

“Iyo, iyo satuya ining harong pati ining mga gamit, pero sain nakatugdok ang harong na ini?”

“…sa daga?”

“Uratihon! Ngunyan, an daga, an kinaban, bako satuya asin bako ta pagsadiri”

“Pero huna ko satuya ining daga? Bako satuya ining kaumahan? Buda bako baga digdi ako nagkakawat?”

“Iyo, iyo, binakal ta ining daga buda may mga papel kita na katunayan para duman, pero nagigin kumplikado. Huni, an daga nagin pagsadiri kaito kan ibang…tawo, haloy na panahon pa bago kita nagdigdi, bago pa nagpuon mag-istar an mga tawo digdi”

“Nata dai ta na sana bakalon sainda?”

“May mga bagay na dai mo mababakal ki kwarta. An lugar na ini sainda asin pirming magiging sainda, maski pa man ako buda ika magadan na. Kaipuhan ta pag-adalan pano mabuhay kairiba sinda.”

“Pano kun habo ko? Garo maurihon sinda. Pag dai ta tinaram ini, buda pag naglinig kita sa palibot kan sadiri tang harong, magkakahilang kita. Pano nagin patas ito?”

“…”

“Bako ini man talaga ini marhay asin magayon na sitwasyon maski sisay satuya, pero kaipuhan ta magin mabuot sa lambang saro. Pag mabuot kita sainda, mabuot man sinda satuya. Ngunyan, ano nganeng sasabihon ta?”

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Nyan, marhay.”

=———————–=

English Version

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Now say it with me.”

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Good. Now remember, we always have to say that whenever we pass this place.”

“We also can’t sweep here right mama?”

“Yes, it’s good you remembered. I have such a smart boy!”

“But why do we have to follow these rules mama? I thought this was our house?”

“It is, it’s our place with all our things, but what is the house on?”

“….the ground?”

“Good job! Now the ground and all the earth, doesn’t belong to us.”

“But I thought this was our land? Isn’t this our farm? And isn’t this where I play?”

“Yes, yes, we bought this land, and we have all the papers to prove it, but then it gets complicated. See the land belonged to some other… people, long before we came here, before any humans started a town in this area.”

“But can’t we just buy it from those people?”

“There are just some things you can’t buy with money. This place is their home and always will be, long after you and I are gone. We have to learn to live with them.”

“What if I don’t want to? They seem mean. If we don’t say these things and if we just clean around our house we get sick. How is that fair?”

“How is it fair that they have to share their home with us?”

“…”

“It isn’t an ideal situation for either of us, but we have to learn to be kind to one another. If we are kind to them, they will be kind to us. Now what do we say?”

“Kayu-kayu, madayu kayu.”

“Good boy.”

=—————————-=

Albay Bikol, or simply Albayanon is a group of languages and one of the three languages that compose Inland Bikol. It is spoken in the southwestern coast of Albay, (Pio Duran, Jovellar) and northwestern Sorsogon. The region is bordered by the Coastal Bikol and Rinconada Bikol speakers.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bicol Translation by Danielle Serrano Dayog
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Danielle Serrano Dayog

Ansisit Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

Watercolor by Catherine Chiu
FB: Wildling Child
IG: https://www.instagram.com/wildlingchild/

*Note this story is in Bicol-Albay

Mas magaan ang yapak niya kaysa sa paripong nakapalibot sa Laguna de Bay. Namuyahan kang babaeng magayon huruphurupon ang saiyang mga nakaaging lakaw-lakaw, lalo na sa palibot kang saiyang kakusugan na lugar. Nangalas ang ibang mga espiritu saiya kung niyata pipilion niya ang sarong lugar kung sain dakol na tawo sa palibot ang magiging lokus niya, kung sain dai ninda maaraman ang kaugmahan na pwedeng makua dara kang pagkakaraw sa mga tawong nakairistar sa lugar. Ang pagkalangkag dangan ang buhay na daing-kagadanan magkasurugpon, kaipuhan niyang hampangon ang mga dati maski papawnu.

Mas magaan ang mga water lily munyan. Ang malipot na parus ang nagtaram saiya na nagahihibi na naman si Larina. Narumduman kang engkanta ang krimen kung sain pinasakitan niya ang madunong na babaye, mga pirang buhay na kaito.

Narumduman niya kaito kang si Larina na sarong magayong daraga na may bulaw na buhok dangan mahuring boot. Kabaliktaran man kaini ang tugang niyang babaye, na ang buhok kasing itom kang banggi kung nuarin ang Laho gigiguhon ang mamuyahan saka mas maboot kaysa sa sarong Kamanan Daplak. Si Mara baya ito? Maria?… Mangita, siyempre, sa kahaluyan halos nalingawan na niya ang pangaran kaini.

Huminuyop giraray ang malipot na parus saka pinugulan kang engkanto ang sadiring mapa-ulok. Igwang arug kaining parus na tuminabang saiyang ipalakop ang kasakitan na nadakop ni Mangita, na nagtao saiya ki kadahilanan para isalbar ini dangan pasakitan man lugod ang saiyang tugang.

Dai man narahay kang mga pisog si Mangita syempre, nyaon lang sinda para magpalakop ki sumpa sa pagbalik kang engkanta. Dapat makainom ki doseng pisog, doseng beses kung sain imbes na tawanan kaini ki kamarahayan ang saiyang tugang, si Larina kinaganan ki pisog ang buhok kaini. Naumawon ang engkanta, bagayon ang arug kaining kahurian sa sarong dalaketnon. Itatao kuta niya ang daraga sa mga espiritung ito kung bako sana dahil sa paghihiganti na pighahagad kang engkanta.

Baku ang kahurian na ipinahiling ni Larina kay Mangita an kinasusuklaman kang engkanta, maski na ang kamaturan na daing nirerespeto ni Larina ang espiritu sa paagi kang dai pagtulod ki pagkaon saiya. Iyo ini so kaitong igwa pang kusog ki boot ang daraga na ituklang ang engkanta sa daga.

Igwang dikit na leksyon para sa mga tawo ang gabos na ini:

Dai magduotan ang sarong engkanta.

=—————-=

English Version

Her footsteps were lighter than the mist surrounding the Laguna de Bay. The beautiful woman liked to reminisce about her previous adventures, especially around her place of power. The other spirits wondered why she would choose a place with so many humans around to be her locus, they would never know the joy that one could acquire through toying with the denizens of the earthrealm. Boredom and immortality were intertwined, and she had to deal with the former somehow.

The water lilies were lighter today. A chill in the air told her that Larina had been crying again. The engkanta remembered the crime for which she had punished the spoiled girl, it was many human lifetimes before.

She remembered when Larina was a beautiful maiden with golden hair and cruel intentions. The sister was the complete opposite, hair as black as a night when the Laho would do its business and kinder than a Kamanan Daplak. Was it Mara? Maria?… Mangita, of course, it had been so long she had almost forgotten her name.

The cold wind blew again and the engkanto stopped herself from laughing. It had been a wind like this that helped her spread the sickness that Mangita caught, which gave her an excuse to save her and punish her sister.

The seeds would have never healed Mangita of course, they were just there to spread the curse when the engkanta returned. It had taken twelve seeds, twelve times when instead of giving a cure to her sister, Larina put a seed in her hair. The engkanta was impressed, that kind of cruelty befitted a dalaketnon. She would have given the girl to those spirits had it not been for the revenge the engkanta craved.

It wasn’t the cruelty that Larina showed to Mangita that the engkanta loathed, not even the fact that Lariana had disrespected the spirit by not offering her food. It was when the girl had the audacity to push the engkanta to the ground.

There was a small lesson for the humans in all this:

Never touch an engkanta.

=———————-=

*Albay Bikol, or simply Albayanon is a group of languages and one of the three languages that compose Inland Bikol. It is spoken in the southwestern coast of Albay, (Pio Duran, Jovellar) and northwestern Sorsogon. The region is bordered by the Coastal Bikol and Rinconada Bikol speakers.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bicol Translation by Chai Mendi
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Chai Mendi

Story continued from “Mangita and Larina” http://www.sacred-texts.com/asia/pfs/pfs08.htm

Story inspired by Philippine Folklore Stories. Miller. 1904. (Full text can be accessed at http://www.sacred-texts.com/asia/pfs/index.htm)

The Engkanta of  Laguna de Bay Illustration by Marc Samuel Magpantay
FB: Murcy Murc Art
Tumblr: Glassy-draws.tumblr.com

*Note this story is in Bicol-Albay

Pagkadisganar. Iyan sana an taramon na nagdadalagan sa isip ni Ari.

Baku dahil sa dai siya tatao magbayle, an saiyang mga hiro pareho pa man gilayon kan dati. Nawara na an saiyang mahika. Garu de numero ang saiyang mga hiro. Maski anong pirit niya dai niya maisapuso an pagbayle.

Sinabihan siya kan mga barkada niya na bumalik sa pinakaprimero ngani maiparumdom sa sadiri kung nata namomo’tan niya an pagbayle. Dai na mabilang an palabas buda mga video na may mangiba-ibang istilo an saiyang hiniling, pigaporbaran na mahanap an silyab ta ngani maging masuripot gilayon an nawarang pagkamoot.

Kada banggi nagapraktis siya, buda kada banggi na naghahale man siya sa studio nakakamati siya ki pagkadisganar. Napapahiling sa salming buda pigsasabi sa sadiri na namemental block sana siya, saro pa na pagsubok na malalampasan niya.

Nasa isip mo sana iyan. Ibayle mo, aram mo na kaya mo.

Pauruutro niyang pigasabi bago magpoon an kada palabas. Wara siya ki labot kung ini garu hababaw pagdangungon, kaipuhan niyang may gibuhon, maski ano na pwedeng makatuwang ngani magpadagos.

Habang patapos na an pagparakpakan kan sa pangSabado na palabas siya paduman na man sa dressing room. Si Ari namamanhid na nagtukaw sa hampang kan saiyang salming. Wara siya ki labot sa iba pa na mga parabayle, maski an pangbanggi na dyanitor dai niya namati kan nagsabi na palsukon ang ilaw pag tapos na siya.

“Kumusta, nawawara ka?” Sarong boses ki babaye an nagalingawngaw sa kasilensyohan.

Dai nagsimbag si Ari, nagtukaw na garu warang labot sa saiyang tukawan. Dai man lamang siya nakigkig kan nagtukaw an babaye sa may kataning niya.

“Kakaiba ka.” An tono kang boses kan babaye nangiinsulto.

Nakapirmi sana an parabayle, nagtatagdo an mga luha sa mata, dangan nagtukaw habang nakahiling sa sadiri niyang repleksiyon.

“Dai ako makabayle,” sabi ni Ari sa sadiri. “Nata dai ako makabayle?!” tuminusok an mga pidaso kan pasa na salming sa saiyang kulit kang sinuntok niya an saiyang repleksiyon diretso sa pandok.

“Ahh saro ka sainda.” Namumundo na pighiling kan babaye an problemado na daraga. “Mari digdi.” An babaye nagpasabot na makupo buda si Ari nagsunod man.

“Nata dai ako makabayle!?” An hibi ni Ari nagalingawngaw sa teatro na ngunyan wara na ki ibang tawo. Nakamati ki lipot an kulit kan babaye sa saiyang hapros dangan naisip ni Ari kung nakalakop na man ang pamamanhid sa kulit niya.

“Yan, yan. Iluwas mo, iluwas mo. Warang saysay na itago an gabos.” Ginibo kan babaye an makakaya niya na pakalmahon si Ari, pero an daraga dai namamatunong. An mga suriyaw kan kapagalan huminalo sa saiyang hibi kan kamunduan.

Labi-labi na an kulog kan boot ni Ari. Pirmi niya pigahanap an pagbayle para mabuhay siya. Yaon na ini kan nagadan ang mga magurang niya, yaon sa kada pakikipagbulagan sa soltero na dai pigasimbag an saiyang mga apod. Dai niya mamatian an koneksiyon sa sarong bagay na nagtao ki katuyuhan sa saiyang buhay.

Naghiling siya sa saiyang tagapagpala. Magayon an babaye. Igwa siyang maitom, hararom na mga mata na makakahali kan mga panlaban ni Ari.

Namangnuhan niya na sana na ipigaistorya niya an saiyang pagkatawo sa babaye, manungod sa kung nata wara na siyang namamatian maski ano pag nagabayle.

“Parabayle man ako dati, pero haluyon na itong panahon.” Luay-luay na inaprus kan babaye an buhok ni Ari. “Dai ko maisip kung ano an dapat na mamatian mo.”

An pagistorya ni Ari kan entablado garu ini na an naging buhay niya. Naistorya niya an saiyang primero na padis kang sapatos na pangbayle buda an kaogmahan na namamatian niya pag nahihiling na nagaliwanag an pandok kan mga parahiling sa kada pagbayle niya na solo. Naistorya niya man an mga banggi buda agang atabon siya nagaunat kan lawas niya antos sa saiyang limitasyon. Nagsabi siya tungkol sa pagkamoot dangan kung pa’no namamatian niya sana ini pag siya nagabayle.

“Dapat mo ining dumanan, padaba ko.” May itinurol an babaye ki sarong pidaso na papel “May nagsabi sakuya na natutuwangan an nagadigdi na mga tawo arog saimo.”

Napahiling siya sa kamot niyang may dugo dangan binasa ki makusog, “Kiblawan.” Nagtangad si Ari dangan nagpoon maghapot sa babaye kung ano an muyang sabihon kaito, pero nawara na siya. Nangiinsulto an tukawan sa kataning niya sa kawaraan kaini.

An saiyang adrenaline pahale na dangan nagpopoon ng mamatian ang kulog kan kamot. Pinuntok niya an pidaso kan papel dangan pagkatapos siya namili.

Natuparan ni Ari an sadiri sa sarong saday na banwa na matutuparan sa probinsiya kan Davao Del Sur. Natuparan niya an pamati na matuninong sa katahawan kan mga poon ki niyog dangan mga tindahan.

Tibaad digdi siya nararapat.

Nagpirmi siya sa nagsosolo na hotel sa lugar dangan napapahanga sa mga tawo na nasa palibot niya. Wara sindang ginibo kundi kabootan. Nagpapasalamat siya na dai sinda naghahapot kung pa’no siya nagkaigwa ki benda sa tuong takyag.

Sa kabilugan, matuninong ang lugar, harayo sa ribok kan siyudad, bagaman baku sa warang selebrasyon. Nagabot siya sa oras kan sarong kapistahan, maski na dai niya masabi kung para sa ano. Maski digdi an mga tawo naghahanap ki dahilan para magporma dangan magbayle kaya siya naoogma sa katotohanang ini.

Nariparo niya an sarong grupo ki mga babaye na nagabayle pabilog. Pigsabi saiya kan mga tawo na ini an Maral Fieu awas, an bayle kan magagayon na mga nimpa.

Dai mapugulan ni Ari na arugon an saindang mga hiro. Pinabwelo siya kan mga tawo na nasa palibot niya habang pigapahiro niya an saiyang mga takyag dangan utro pigarog an saindang bayle.

Duman niya ito namatian.

Garu mainit na kupo ki sarong dati na barkada. Suminaklob saiya an pamati dangan naglakop sa saiyang lawas. Buminulos dangan nagpatakig sa mga guramoy.

Napangirit siya sa enot na pagkakataon sa kahaluyan na panahon.

Natapos an bayle buda nagautnga siya sa katahawan kan mga tawo buda mga parabayle. Nakamati siya ki supog, sarong turista na dai aram an saiyang lugar, pero an mga tawo todo ngirit, pati an mga parabayle pinarakpakan siya.Kan bangging ito dai si Ari nangangaturog, an kaogmahan garu dai mawara. Nagluwas siya sa tinampo dangan nagpoon baylehon an Maral Fieu Awas.

Nagirumduman kan kalamnan niya an kada hiro na garu saro siya sa parabayle kasubago. Warang tugtog para baylehan niya, pero ini bakung importante.

Pagkamoot. Kuryente. Kagayonan. Katuyuhan.

Baku ito an eksaktong namatian niya buda dai niya maipaliwanag an nakakabua na crescendo na nakakapano sa saiyang puso.

Habo niyang matapos an saiyang namamatian. An kada hiro nakakaparumdom saiya kung ano talaga an muyang sabihon kan pagbayle sa buhay niya. Hiniro niya an saiyang takyag paitaas dangan bigla siyang naging sadayot na aki na limang taon, nagaadal kung pa’no ang pirouette. Ilinuwas niya an saiyang bitis dangan siya naman kinse anyos, nagapreparar para sa saiyang audition para sa Swan Lake an paghadit may halong kaogmahan. Nagtalibong siya dangan niya narumduman an banggi na si Rolly inagda siyang magpakasal, nagbayle siya ta ngani malingawan an hitsura kan pandok kaini kan sinabi niya na habo.

Kakulugan. Kakalmahan. Kapagalan. Katrangkiluhan.

Ini an saiyang mga namamatian buda iba pa na nagalakop poon sa mga guramoy sa bitis hanggang sa gulugod. An kada pangyayari garu sarong kapalaran na dai niya pighahaditan na mapaghurup-hurupan.

Namangnuhan niya na sana na dai siya nagsosolo. An paghuna ni Ari sinda an mga parabayle na babaye kasubago. Nagiba sinda saiya sa pagbayle kan Maral Fieu Awas.

Warang bulan kan bangging ito buda an mga bituon sana an testigo sa kaelegantehan na nabukasan. An kada miyembro nakisuksukan sulog an saindang mga puti na bado, nagintra sa iristoryahan na warang taramon kundi mga parabayle sana an nakakasabot.

=—————————-=

English Version

Frustration. That was the only word racing through Ari’s mind.

It’s not that she couldn’t dance, her moves were still as sharp as ever. She had lost her magic. Her movements felt mechanical. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t put her heart into her dancing.

Her friends told her to go back to the basics to remind herself why she loved to dance. Ari watched countless shows and videos of every style, trying to find the spark to reignite her lost love. There wasn’t even a flicker.

Every night she would train, and every night she would leave the studio disappointed. She would look in the mirror and tell herself that it was only a mental block, another challenge that she could overcome.

It’s all in your head. Dance through it, you know you can.
She repeated these words before every show. She didn’t care that they sounded hollow, she just needed to do something, anything to push her through this obstacle.

As the audience’s applause faded from Saturday night’s show she retreated to the dressing room. Ari sat numb in front of her mirror. She didn’t mind the rest of the dancers, she didn’t even hear the night janitor tell her to switch the lights off when she was done.

“Hello, are you lost?” A woman’s voice pierced through the silence.

Ari did not answer, she sat unmoved in her chair. She didn’t even flinch when the woman sat next to her.

“You’re a strange one.” The woman’s voice had a mocking tone.

The dancer remained still, tears were rolling down her eyes, but she sat gazing at her reflection.

“I can’t dance,” Ari said to herself. “Why can’t I dance?!” shards of glass dug into her skin as she punched her reflection straight in the face.

“Ahh you’re one of those.” The woman gave a sad look to the troubled girl. “Come here then.” The woman motioned for a hug and Ari complied.

“Why can’t I dance!?” Ari’s sobs echoed through the now empty theater. The woman’s skin felt cold to her touch and Ari wondered if the numbness had spread to her skin.

“There, there. Let it out, let it out. No sense in keeping it all in.” The woman tried her best to comfort Ari, but the girl was inconsolable. Her screams of anguish mixed with her sobs into a mournful aria.

Ari was broken inside and out. She had always looked to dancing to get her through life. It was there when her parents died, there for every breakup with a boy that wouldn’t return her calls. She couldn’t feel connected to the one thing that gave her life purpose.

She looked at her benefactor. The woman was beautiful. She had dark, deep set eyes that seemed to strip away Ari’s defenses. She found herself baring her soul to the woman, about how she couldn’t feel anything when she danced.

“I was a dancer once too, but that was very long ago.” The woman gently stroked Ari’s hair. “I can’t imagine what it is you must be feeling.”

Ari spoke of the stage like it was her entire life. She spoke of her first pair of dancer’s shoes and the rush she would get when the audience’s faces lit up during her solos. She spoke of late nights and early mornings stretching her body to its limits. She spoke of love and how she only felt that way when she danced.

“You should go here, my dear.” The woman handed Ari a piece of paper “I’ve been told that going here helps people like you.”

She looked at her bloody hand and read out loud, “Kiblawan.” Ari looked up and began to ask the woman what it meant, but she was gone. The chair beside her mocked her with its emptiness.

Her adrenaline was leaving her and she started to feel the pain from her hand. She stared at the piece of paper and made a choice then and there.

Ari found herself in a small town nestled in the province of Davao del Sur. She found a feeling of peace in between the coconut trees and the sari-sari stores.

Maybe this was where she was supposed to be.

She stayed at what seemed to be the only hotel in the area and came to admire the people around her.
They treated her with nothing but kindness. She appreciated that they didn’t ask her how she came to get bandages on her right arm.

All in all it was a peaceful place, far away from the troubles of the city, though not without celebration. She had come at the time of a festival, though for what she couldn’t tell. Even here people wanted an excuse to dress up and dance and she stood comforted with that fact.

What caught her eye was a group of girls dancing in a circle. The people told her that it was Maral Fieu Awas, the dance of the beautiful nymphs.

Ari could not help but imitate their movements. The people around her gave her room as she moved her arms and recreated their steps.

That was when she felt it.

It was like the warm embrace of an old friend. The feeling enveloped her and coursed through her body. It flowed through her and made her fingertips tingle.

She smiled for the first time in ages.

The dance finished and she stood breathless between the crowd and the dancers. She felt embarrassed, a tourist that didn’t know her place, but the people were all smiles, even the dancers gave her a round of applause.
That night Ari couldn’t sleep, the rush didn’t seem to fade. She walked outside to the street and started to dance the Maral Fieu Awas.

Her muscles remembered each movement as if she was one of the dancers from earlier in the day. There was no music for her to dance to, but it didn’t matter.

Love. Electricity. Beauty. Purpose.

That wasn’t exactly how she felt and words failed to describe the maddening crescendo that filled her heart.

She wanted these feelings to never end. Each action made her recall what dance had meant to her all her life. She moved her arms upward and suddenly she was a little girl of five, learning how to do her first pirouette. She put her leg out and she was fifteen, preparing for her audition for Swan Lake the nervous energy mingling with excitement. She twirled and remembered the night Rolly had asked her to marry him, she danced then to forget the look on his face when she told him no.

Pain. Comfort. Torment. Peace.

These feelings and more flowed from her toes through her spine. Each moment felt like a destiny she was not afraid to realize.

She soon noticed she was not alone. Ari thought they were the dancer girls from earlier in the day. They joined her in the Maral Fieu Awas.

There was no moon that night and the stars were the only witness to the elegance that unfolded. The starlight was dim compared to the warm glow that permeated the euphoric dance. Each new member flowed through the throng with their white robes, joining a wordless conversation that only dancers could understand.

Ari woke up the next morning in the middle of the street. Dirt surrounded one side of her face and soreness blanketed her muscles.

She greeted the new day with newfound purpose. She noticed her hand didn’t hurt anymore and was not surprised to find her wounds healed.

She said a soft prayer of thanks to the woman that told her to come here.

“I can dance.”

She rushed to her room to pack her bags. If she hurried she could make it back in time for the matinée.

————————–————————–————————–—–
Albay Bikol, or simply Albayanon is a group of languages and one of the three languages that compose Inland Bikol. It is spoken in the southwestern coast of Albay, (Pio Duran, Jovellar) and northwestern Sorsogon. The region is bordered by the Coastal Bikol and Rinconada Bikol speakers.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bicol Translation by Judy Azul
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Judy Azul

Inspired by the B’laan Fieu Awas legends

Fieu Awas Illustration by Colleen Matti

FB: The Art of Colleen