Pinahiram ng buwan ang kanyang ilaw sa larawan ng isang masaker.
Kumpol-kumpol na laman-loob ang nagkalat sa kapatagan na parang bahay-katayan; napuno ang ere ng kaluskos ng
buto at nakakasindak na sigaw habang rumaragasa ang lagim ng isang halimaw sa aming nayon.
Ngunit, alam ng lahat na, pagkarating ng sunod na buwan, ito ay aming bibigyang panalangin. Dahil kapag ang ilaw
ng bilog na buwan ay sumapit sa nayon, ito ay nagiging isang maawain na nilalang na magbabantay sa pagtubo ng
mga inani.
Pagod na ako dito.
Bakit kailangan natin magdusa sa mga pakana ng buwan? Bakit kailangan ko muli maglibing ng kapamilya tapos
makiusap sa kanilang mamatay-tao na ako’y kanyang biyayaan? Bakit kailangan ko muli marinig ang kanilang mga
iyak sa aking bawat pagtulog, nagtataka kung ano sana ang nagawa ko para mailigtas sila?
Ang ‘maawain’ na anyo ng nilalang ay hindi naiiba sa atin, ngunit hindi ako malilinlang. Alam ko ang tunay nitong
anyo, ang nag-iisa nitong mata at mababagsik nitong mga pangil. Hindi ito makakatago sa likod ng mukha ng
kapayapaan upang maghasik lamang muli ng digmaan sa sunod na paglaho ng bilog na mukha ng buwan.
Sa pagtaas ng bagong buwan, ako ay nanunumpa.
Iwawaksi ko ang siklo ng pagdurusa. Itataas ko ang aking armas laban sa diyos na itong balimbing at pababagsakin
siya sa kanyang tuhod.
Sinusumpa ko.
Labis na ang nawala sa akin sa lagim at mga sigaw. Bawat gabi, nakikita ko ang mukha ng aking kapatid habang
nakasabit ang kanyang bankay sa bunganga ng Tagamaling. Ang kanyang huling mga sigaw ay hahabol sa akin
hanggang sa kamatayan.
Ako ay sinasamahan ng ibang mangangaso. Bawat isa ay nawalan ng kasintahan, kaibigan, kapatid, o magulang sa
kagat ng pangil ng baliw na diyos. Bawat isa ay wala nang kinatatakutan. Wala nang maiwawala.
Kaya sinusulat ko ang liham na ito para sa iyo, mahal kong anak.
Manatili kang matatag sa mukha ng kasamaan at huwag mo ikompromiso kailanman kung ano at sino ka sa kahit
kanino.
Paalam.

=———————–=

English Version

The full moon lends its light to the carnage.

Piles of human flesh strung across the plain like an abattoir, the crunch of bone and the screams of pain filled the air as the monster ravaged its way through my village.

Yet, we knew that in the next month it would have our worship. When the light of the full moon extends over our village shall it become a beneficent deity, watching over our crops like stoic sentinels.

I’m tired of this.

Why must we suffer with the whims of the moon? Why must I have to bury another member of my family and then ask blessings of their murderer?  Why must I hear their screams every time I sleep, wondering what I could have done to save them?

In their “benevolent” form they appeared much like we do, but that does not fool me. I know their true nature, their one eye and their terrible fangs.  They cannot hide behind their facade of peace only to bring war the next time the moon rears its next full face.

With the rise of the new moon I make a vow.

I will end this cycle of torment. I will raise arms against this confused god and bring it down to its knees.

I will.

I have lost too much to the terror, to the screams. Each night I can only see the face of my brother as he hung from the mouth of the tagamaling. His last scream will haunt me until the end of my time.

I am joined by the other hunters, each has lost a lover, a friend, a sibling or a parent to the maw of the mad god. Each has nothing left to lose. Not anymore.

So I write to you this letter, my beloved son.

Always keep yourself strong in the face of evil, and never compromise who and what you are to no one.

Goodbye.

=————————=

*Note this story is in Pangasinan

Ambelat so pakalikas to may golungolung ed saray taklay to may priso. Sikatoy inawit da ed basil na kuarto. Nen timmuntong may priso ed palasyo, anta to la a sikatoy pateyen da. Kaambagelan ingen ya ninonot to ni a onla ed syudad na Buso, balet anta to a gloria so akasalalay dia. No atakew to labat kumon iman.

Mamarlang so silew da iramay sulo dimad kuarto, balet anggapoy laban da ed samay apoy a manlalapo diman ed trono. Puro istorya labat so nadngel to may priso nipaakar ed sayan pinalsa, balet iraman a salita et ag makapangiter na hustisya ed sayan makapataktakot ya akayurong ed arapan to.

Manterter so dala ed sangi to may Datu. Akarengel may priso a makapataktakot na tanol – singa pukel a tetemeken. Nimmengneng ed sikato may Datu gamit imay saksakey ton mata a kolor ambalanga. Walay inyesaes to ed lenguahe to, tan abulos may priso ed samay golungolung to. Agto sigurado no antoy nagagawa, balet, no ibase diyad batik na kapalaran ed pinambilay to, aliwan maabig iman.

Naniter ya dalan iramay guardia a Buso tan da pinaulyanan a lukas so puerta. Bimmatik may priso. Agto paulyanan a nabulos iyan pankanawnawa. No sikato et ipapaekal da la, aya so labay da. Balet no aya et sananey, anggano panon et walay tsansa to.

Ngalngali to la nasabi imay sular balet sikatoy naunaan a baleg a apoy.

Say saklor na Datu ya singa garing et mankirlap ed apoy. Inegnaan toy ulo na priso tan ginmapon angan. Mankelaw iray guardia no akin et lanang a pangagalawan to may Datu iray kakanen to, balet ag lara inmesel. Gagawaen na ari so labay to.

————————————–=

English Version

The chains felt heavy on the prisoner’s wrists. He was led into a new room. The prisoner knew that he was already dead the moment he stepped in the palace. It was foolish of him to even consider going to the city of the Buso, but he knew glory was on the line. If only he had managed to steal it.

The torches in the room were burning brightly, but they were dwarfed by the blaze radiating from the throne. The prisoner had only heard stories about this creature, but those words could not do justice to the horror that sat before him.

Blood dripped from the Datu’s mouth. The prisoner heard a sickening crunch and the Datu stared at him with its one red eye. It mumbled something in its language and the prisoner’s chains were set loose. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but, with his luck, it wasn’t something good.

The buso guards gave way and left the doorway open. The prisoner ran. He wasn’t going to let his chance go to waste. If they were letting him go then this was what they wanted, if this was something else then he would at least have a chance.

He almost got to the courtyard before a large flame overtook him.

The Datu’s ivory horn pulsed with flame. It grabbed the prisoner’s head and started eating. The guards wondered why the Datu always played with his food, but they kept silent. Royalty does what it will.

=—————————————=

*Pangasinan (Salitan Pangasinan) – sometimes called Pangasinense is one of the major languages of the Philippines. It is the language spoken in the province of Pangasinan, on the west-central seaboard of the island of Luzon along the Lingayen Gulf, the northern portion of Tarlac and southwestern La Union, most of whom belong to the Pangasinan ethnic group. Pangasinan is also understood in some municipalities in Benguet, Nueva Ecija, Nueva Vizcaya, and by the Aeta or Aeta of Zambales.

Written by Karl Gaverza

Translation by Rengel Arconado
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Rengel Arconado

Inspired by the Datu of the Buso in ‘Adventures of Tuglay’ reprinted in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002.

Datu of the Buso Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

*Note this poem is in Tagalog

Dito kung saan kami tumigil

Dito kung saan kami magsisimula

Ang Muya

Ang Bayi-bayi

Ang pangalan niya ay Amburukay

Itinatago niya ang kaniyang mga dalaga

Itinatago niya dila sa kaniyang Tore

Ang Muya

Ang Bayi-bayi

Kung sino man ang makakukuha ng kaniyang tuos

Ng kaniyang gintong bulbol

Ay mapakakasalan siya,

Taghoy, ang duwende

Ang espiritung-gabay

Ng Labaw Donggon

Ay nagsabing ayusin niya

Ang sira niyang bidya

Tanging ang tuos

Ng Muya

Ng Bayi-Bayi

Kinuha niya

Alam niyang hindi ito sa tuos

Ng Muya

Ng Bayi-bayi

Ang kaniyang dapat pakasalan

Amburukay

Noong araw ng itinakdang kasal

Ang kaniyang tahanan

Ang tahanan ng lalaki

Ay ibinigay sa Muya

Sa Bayi-bayi

Umiyak ang Labaw Donggon

Hindi ang Muya

Hindi ang Bayi-bayi

Hindi ko siya mapakakasalan

Amburukay

Ito ang kaniyang binukot

Ang kaniyang tinatagong mga dalaga

Ang mga anak niyang babae

Natuwa ang Labaw Donggon

Kung saan kami huminto

Dito kami matatapos

=——————————-=-

English Version

Where we all pause
Here shall we begin

The Muwa
The Bayi-bayi
Her name, Amburukay
She hides her kept maidens
Hides them in her tower

The Muwa
The Bayi-bayi
Whoever gets her tuos*
Her golden pubic hair
Will marry her

Taghoy, the duwende
The spirit guide
Of Labaw Donggon
Tells him to fix
His broken bidya

With only the tuos
Of the Muwa
Of the Bayi-bayi
He takes it

He knows not of the tuos
Of the Muwa
Of the Bayi-bayi
He must marry
Amburukay

The wedding day
His house
The house of the groom
Is brought to the Muwa
To the Bayi-bayi

Labaw Donggon cries in despair
Not the Muwa
Not the Bayi-bayi
I cannot marry her

Amburukay
Is not there
It is her binukot
Her kept maidens
Her adopted daughters
Labaw Donggon rejoices

Where we all pause
Here shall we end

————————–————————–———————

*A tuos is a sacred vow or pledge. (This is in reference to the story wherein anyone that gets Amburukay’s golden pubic hair must marry her, as was the sacred magical binding contract of her parents)

*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 (In the style of a Sugidanon [Epic] of Panay)

Translation by Gabriela Baron
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Gabriela Baron

Story adapted from Amburukay: Sugidanon (Epics) of Panay. Caballero & Caballero-Castor translation by Magos. 2015.

Amburukay Illustration by Patmai De Vera
FB : Art of Patmai
TUMBLR : http://blog.patmai.net/
IG: https://www.instagram.com/_patmai_/

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Mahigpit ang kapit ng mga kadena sa pulso ng bilanggong ito. Dinala siya sa isang bagong silid. Sa simula pa lang ng pag-apak niya sa palasyo, alam na niyang hindi maganda ang kahahantungan ng mga pangyayari. Napakahangal din naman kung tutuusin ang pagpunta sa lalawigan ng Buso, pero gagawin niya ito para sa kadakilaan – kung nagawa lang niyang nakawin iyon.

Nakakasilaw ang liyab ng mga sulo, ngunit natatabunan ito ng alab mula sa trono. Marami nang narinig na kwento ang bilanggo tungkol sa nilalang na ito, pero wala pa ito sa kalingkingan ng kilabot na makikita sa harapan niya.

May pumapatak na dugo mula sa bibig ng Datu. Nakarinig ang bilanggo ng nakakangalisag na tunog at bumaling ang pulang mata ng Datu sa kaniya. Hindi niya naintindihan ang winika nito, pero pinalaya ang bilanggo sa pagkakakadena. Kung ano man ang nangyayari, sa dami ng kamalasan niya, alam niyang hindi maganda ang kahihinantnan nito.

Ang mga bantay ng Buso ay nagbigay daan sa kaniya, at iniwang bukas ang pintuan. Tumakbo ang bilanggo. Hindi niya papalampasin ang pagkakataong ito. Baka pinapakawalan siya ng mga bantay, kung hindi naman ay sayang pa rin ang pagkakataon niyang makatakas.

Makakalabas na sana siya tungong patyo, ngunit bigla siyang nilamon ng malalaking apoy.

Nag-aapoy ang mga sungay ng Datu. Sinakmal nito ang ulo ng bilanggo at saka sinimulang pagpiyestahan. Isang palaisipan sa mga bantay kung bakit hilig ng Datu na paglaruan mga pagkain nito, pero pinipili nilang manahimik. Nasusunod palagi ang gusto ng isang Maharlika.

=———————=

English Version

The chains felt heavy on the prisoner’s wrists. He was led into a new room. The prisoner knew that he was already dead the moment he stepped in the palace. It was foolish of him to even consider going to the city of the buso, but he knew glory was on the line. If only he had managed to steal it.

The torches in the room were burning brightly, but they were dwarfed by the blaze radiating from the throne. The prisoner had only heard stories about this creature, but those words could not do justice to the horror that sat before him.

Blood dripped from the Datu’s mouth. The prisoner heard a sickening crunch and the Datu stared at him with its one red eye. It mumbled something in its language and the prisoner’s chains were set loose. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but, with his luck, it wasn’t something good.

The buso guards gave way and left the doorway open. The prisoner ran. He wasn’t going to let his chance go to waste. If they were letting him go then this was what they wanted, if this was something else then he would at least have a chance.

He almost got to the courtyard before a large flame overtook him.

The Datu’s ivory horn pulsed with flame. It grabbed the prisoner’s head and started eating. The guards wondered why the Datu always played with his food, but they kept silent.

Royalty does what it will.

————————–————————–————————-

*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 Jillianne Santos
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Jillianne Santos

Inspired by the Datu of the Buso in ‘Adventures of Tuglay’ reprinted in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002.

Datu of the Buso Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
FB: That Guy With A Pen

*Note this story is in Cebuano

Nagkinabuhi siya sama sa kalayo, ang tanan nga iyang nahikapan nahimong usa ka hayag nga siga.

Siyempre walay makapugong kaniya, bisan pa adunay daghan nga nakahimo niana nga sayop. Sa dihang iyang ibutang ang iyang kasingkasing sa usa ka butang, daw ingon og ang uniberso wala maglungtad. Siya lamang ug ang iyang mga angay buhaton. Mogugol ako og daghang mga gabii sa pagtan-aw sa iyang ginama, magadayeg sa mga hampak sa iyang canvas.

Ang enerhiya nga nagdan-ag gikan kaniya usa ka ihalas nga puwersa, dili kini mahilom ug wala siya maghago sa pagsulay sa pagtago niini. Nag-agas kini sa iyang matag lihok bisan unsa man ka gamay ug walay hinungdan. Gidasig niya ang uban pinaagi niana nga kusog. Pipila ka mga gabii, sa akong hunahuna, mahimo niya nga makuha ang kalibutan kung gusto niya.

Tuguti ko nga mubalik sa sinugdanan.

Nahimamat nako si Leonora duha (2) ka tuig ang milabay. Kaniadto ug karon, usa ako ka naglisud nga artista, naningkamot sa pagpangita og inspirasyon bisan asa ko moadto. Usa na siya ka dako nga ngalan sa eksena sa pagpinta nga adunay daghang mga eksibit sa ilawom sa iyang bakus.

Naghiusa kami sa mga aso nga panganod ug sa napakyas nga mga paglaom.

Gusto nako hunahunaon sa dihang kami nahimong higala. Kada semana human niana moadto ko sa iyang studio ug maningkamot og kat-on kung unsa man akong makat-onan gikan kaniya.

Ulahi nako nakaamgo nga dili nimo makat-onan kung unsa ang anaa niya.

Usa ka gabii, pila ka bulan ang milabay, kauban nako siya samtang naggama siya sa iyang labing bag-o nga piraso. Kini giulohan og ‘usa ka langay nga sayaw sa pula’ (‘A slow dance of red’). Usa kadto ka talan-awon nga piraso, talagsaon alang kaniya nga buhaton, apan siya miingon nga gusto niyang hinumdoman ang kabukiran sa iyang panimalay sa pagkabata.

Siya gikan sa Kiokong, Bukidnon, usa ka lugar nga wala pa nako maadtoan, ug usa ka lugar nga akong nahibal-an pag-ayo. Pinaagi sa iyang mga dibuho nga akong nalantawan ang lig-on nga katahom sa bato ug ang mga suba nga ilang gisagngan.

Kanunay niya kong ginapangutana kung husto ba ang hitsura niini ug akoa siyang ginapahinumduman nga iyang balay ug dili sa akoa ang iyang gipinta, bisan pa, sa pagbalik-lantaw, sa akong hunahuna, ang pangutana wala gitumong kanako.

Mas malipayon kadto nga mga panahon.

Wala ko kabalo unsa akong isulti sa nahitabo. Gikakurat kini sa tanan, ilabina sa mga suod kaniya.

Kaming tanan nahibalo nga siya aduna’y kaugalingong mga demonyo nga ginalabanan, ug kaming tanan nagpahibalo kaniya nga kami ania kon siya mapandol.

Apan wala siya misangpit.

Ako… Gusto nakong pahimuslan kining higayona para pasalamatan ang tanan nga nagtapok aron sa paghinumdom kang Leonora. Aduna siya’y luná sa atong mga kasing-kasing ug kini motubo lamang karon nga siya mipanaw na.

Samtang nagtan-aw ko sa mga nawong dinhi, pipila ka pamilyar ug pipila ka estranghero kanako, dili nako malikayan nga maghunahuna sa kung unsang paagi gusto unta ni Leonora sa pagpinta niini. Siya ang talagsaon nga talento sa pagkuha sa esensya sa emosyon sa pipila lamang ka mga hampak sa pinta.

Ang pipila ka… maanindot….nga mga hampak…. Ako… Dili nako kini mahimo.

Sayop kining tanan.

Si Leonora wala mamatay tungod sa overdose.

Gisulayan niya nga isulti kanamo kung unsa ang iyang giagian, pinaagi sa iyang mga dibuho, apan nagmagahi kaayo kami sa pagpaminaw.

Tan-awa ang iyang kataposang mga buhat. Ang mga kamot nga gikunis,ang talinis nga mga ngipon, ang taas nga dila. Naa didto ang tanan.

Ug gisulayan niya nga pahunongon kini.

Giingnan ko niya nga namati kini sa mga tingog sa kamatayon, tingali mao kana ang hinungdan nga naggugol siya og daghang oras sa sementeryo. Kaming tanan, giisip lamang namong susama kini sa binuhatan sa usa ka artista, diin, dili kita makahukom kung asa nagagikan ang inspirasyon nilang mga artista.

Oh Dios… kung naminaw lang unta kami.

Tan-awa ninyo! Walay bisan unsa sa lungon!

Walay subay kaniya bisan asa. Giingon nila nga nawala ang iyang lawas sa morge, apan karon nahibal-an ko na.

Kadto nga…. butang ang nagbuhat niini.

Katapusan niyang hangyo nga hugasan og suka ang iyang lawas.

Wala’y mibuhat sa hangyo. Katingad-an kaayo. Abi namo og binuang lamang kadto.

Karon wala’y usa nga mikatawa.

Leonora pasayloa ko. Naminaw unta ko. Namati unta kaming tanan. Ang sala dili ra nako. Wala ka namo makit-i labaw pa sa imong pagka-artista, ug karon tan-awa kung unsa ang nahitabo, nagabantay sa usa ka lungon nga walay sulod, nagalaum nga mutaas kanimo ang among mga pag-ampo.

Apan ang pag-ampo dili na makatabang kanato.

Nagahangyo ako kaninyong tanan nga nagtigom dinhi sa paghinumdom sa iyang katapusang mga buhat. Hibalo-a ninyo kung unsa ang iyang gilabanan.

Balik sa inyong mga panimalay ug damgoha siya.

Mao kana ang labing gamay na atoang mahimo.

=——————————————–=

English Version

She lived like fire, everything she touched turned into a bright blaze.

There was no stopping her of course, though there were many that made that mistake. When she put her heart into something it was as if the universe didn’t exist. It was only her and what she needed to do. I would spend many nights watching her work, admiring the brushstrokes on the canvas.

The energy that radiated from her was a wild force, it wouldn’t be kept silent and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. It leaked through her every movement no matter how small and inconsequential. She inspired others with that energy. Some nights I think she could have taken over the world if she wanted to.

Let me go back to the start.

I met Leonora 2 years ago. I was then and now, a struggling artist, trying to find inspiration wherever I went. She was already a big name in the painting scene with many exhibits under her belt.

We bonded over smoke clouds and failed expectations.
I’d like to think that’s when we became friends. Every week after that I would go to her studio and try to learn what I could from her.

I realized too late that you couldn’t learn what she had.
One night, a few months ago, I was with her while she was working on her latest piece. It was entitled ‘A slow dance of red’. It was a landscape piece, unusual for her to do, but she said she wanted to remember the mountains of her childhood home.

She was from Kiokong, Bukidnon, a place that I’ve never been, and a place I know all too well. It was through her paintings that I was able to glimpse the rugged beauty of the rock walls and the rivers they stood guard over.

She would always ask me if it looked right and I had to remind her that it was her home and not mine that she was painting, though, looking back, I don’t think the question was directed at me.

Those were happier times.

I don’t know what to say about what happened. It was a shock to everyone, especially those closest to her.

We all knew she had her own demons to fight, and all of us let her know that we would be there if she ever stumbled.

But she never asked.

I… I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone that gathered to remember Leonora. She had a place in all our hearts and it will only grow now that she’s gone.

As I look over the faces here, some familiar and some strangers to me, I can’t help but think of the way Leonora would have wanted to paint this. She the rare talent of capturing the essence of emotion in a few strokes of paint.

A few… beautiful…. Strokes…. I… I can’t do this.

It’s all wrong.

Leonora didn’t die from an overdose.

She tried to tell us what she was going through, through her paintings, but we were too stubborn to listen.

Look at her final works. The clawed hands, the pointed teeth, the long tongue. It was all there.

And she tried to stop it.

She told me it listened for the sounds of death, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in the cemetery. We all brushed it off as an artistic peculiarity, after all we can’t judge where artists get their inspiration from.

Oh God… if only we had listened.

Look for yourselves! There’s nothing in the coffin!

No trace of her anywhere. They said her body was lost at the morgue, but now I know better.

It was that…. thing that did this.

Her last wish was that her body be washed with vinegar.

No one did the request. It was too strange. We thought it was a joke.

Now no one’s laughing.

Leonora I’m sorry. I should have listened. We all should have listened. The fault is not mine alone. We couldn’t see past the artist in you and now look what happened, watching over an empty coffin hoping that our prayers would be lifted to you.
But prayer can’t help us anymore.

I beg all of you gathered here to remember her last works. Look for yourselves what she was fighting against.

Go back to your homes and dream of her.

That’s the least we can 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 Arcy Salvacion
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Arcy Salvacion

Illustration by Edson Espiritu
IG: @blackink.es

Inspired by the busaw/buso description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

*Note this story is in Tagalog

“Anong nakita mo?!”

“Lolo, tama na, marami na siyang pinagdaanan.”

“Inilalagay niya sa panganib ang pamilya natin. Hindi pa ba sapat na namatay ang tatay niya?! Ngayon naman binubulabog niya ang mga kaluluwa. Hindi ninyo naiintindihan kung gaano ito delikado.

“Lolo, hindi niya alam kung ano ang ginagawa niya. Curious lang siya.”

“Ni hindi natin alam kung anong ginawa niya, baka—”

“Nakita ko.”

“….Kuya, anong nakita mo?”

“Anong ginawa mo?”

“Sinunod ko yung instruction. Pinuntahan ko ang pinutol na puno para sa ataul ni Papa tapos inilagay ko ron yung mga gamit na dala ko.”

“Anong mga gamit kuya?”

“Galing sa ataul ni Papa. Noong gabi ng lamay niya, pumunta ako ron at nakita ko mismo.”

“Sabihin mo sa akin anong nakita mo.”

“Nakakita ako ng mga alitaptap at nakita ko rin ang pagtapon ng mga bituka. Mayroon ding lumulutang na mga ulo, mga braso at mga binti. Nakita ko uli si Papa, pero nilampasan niya ako. Nakita ko ang mga anino na nabuhay at pinalibutan ako. At doon nakita ko.”

“Anong nakita mo?!”

“Nakita ko ang buso.”

=—————————————=

English Version

“What did you see?!”

“Lolo, please, he’s been through enough.”

“He’s put this family in great danger. Wasn’t it enough that his father died?! Now he goes invoking the spirits. Neither of you understand how dangerous this is.”

“Lolo, he didn’t know what he was doing, he was just curious.”

“We don’t even know what he did, he could have—“

“I saw.”

“….Kuya what did you see?”

“What did you do?!”

“ I followed the instructions. I went to the tree that was cut down for Papa’s coffin then I put the pieces that I took there.”

“What pieces kuya?”

“The ones that I took from Papa’s coffin. On the night of his funeral I went there and I saw.”

“Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw the swarm of fireflies and I saw the intestines being spilled. I saw floating heads and arms and legs. I saw Papa again, he walked right past me. I saw the shadows come alive and wrap around me. And then I saw it.”

“What did you see?!”

“I see the buso.”

=——————————————-=

*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 Reina Mikee
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Reina Mikee

Story inspired by the Buso entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971. and Bagobo Myths. Journal of American Folklore. 1913.

Buso Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito

Watercolor by Mykie Concepcion
Tumblr: http://mykieconcepcion.tumblr.com/

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She lived like fire, everything she touched turned into a bright blaze.

There was no stopping her of course, though there were many that made that mistake. When she put her heart into something it was as if the universe didn’t exist. It was only her and what she needed to do. I would spend many nights watching her work, admiring the brushstrokes on the canvas.

The energy that radiated from her was a wild force, it wouldn’t be kept silent and she didn’t bother trying to hide it. It leaked through her every movement no matter how small and inconsequential. She inspired others with that energy. Some nights I think she could have taken over the world if she wanted to.

Let me go back to the start.

I met Leonora 2 years ago. I was then and now, a struggling artist, trying to find inspiration wherever I went. She was already a big name in the painting scene with many exhibits under her belt.

We bonded over smoke clouds and failed expectations.
I’d like to think that’s when we became friends. Every week after that I would go to her studio and try to learn what I could from her.

I realized too late that you couldn’t learn what she had.
One night, a few months ago, I was with her while she was working on her latest piece. It was entitled ‘A slow dance of red’. It was a landscape piece, unusual for her to do, but she said she wanted to remember the mountains of her childhood home.

She was from Kiokong, Bukidnon, a place that I’ve never been, and a place I know all too well. It was through her paintings that I was able to glimpse the rugged beauty of the rock walls and the rivers they stood guard over.

She would always ask me if it looked right and I had to remind her that it was her home and not mine that she was painting, though, looking back, I don’t think the question was directed at me.

Those were happier times.

I don’t know what to say about what happened. It was a shock to everyone, especially those closest to her.

We all knew she had her own demons to fight, and all of us let her know that we would be there if she ever stumbled.

But she never asked.

I… I want to take this opportunity to thank everyone that gathered to remember Leonora. She had a place in all our hearts and it will only grow now that she’s gone.

As I look over the faces here, some familiar and some strangers to me, I can’t help but think of the way Leonora would have wanted to paint this. She the rare talent of capturing the essence of emotion in a few strokes of paint.

A few… beautiful…. Strokes…. I… I can’t do this.

It’s all wrong.

Leonora didn’t die from an overdose.

She tried to tell us what she was going through, through her paintings, but we were too stubborn to listen.

Look at her final works. The clawed hands, the pointed teeth, the long tongue. It was all there.

And she tried to stop it.

She told me it listened for the sounds of death, maybe that’s why she spent so much time in the cemetery. We all brushed it off as an artistic peculiarity, after all we can’t judge where artists get their inspiration from.

Oh God… if only we had listened.

Look for yourselves! There’s nothing in the coffin!

No trace of her anywhere. They said her body was lost at the morgue, but now I know better.

It was that…. thing that did this.

Her last wish was that her body be washed with vinegar.

No one did the request. It was too strange. We thought it was a joke.

Now no one’s laughing.

Leonora I’m sorry. I should have listened. We all should have listened. The fault is not mine alone. We couldn’t see past the artist in you and now look what happened, watching over an empty coffin hoping that our prayers would be lifted to you.
But prayer can’t help us anymore.

I beg all of you gathered here to remember her last works. Look for yourselves what she was fighting against.

Go back to your homes and dream of her.

That’s the least we can do.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Illustration by Edson Espiritu
IG: @blackink.es

Inspired by the busaw/buso description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

*Note this story is in Bicol

Magabat sa pagmati kan preso an kadena sa saiyang mga kamot. Dinara siya sa bagong kwarto. Sa paglaog niya siya sa palasyo, aram niya na magagdan siya. Kapatalan an pagkonsiderar sa pagduman sa ciudad nin Buso pero nakataya an saiyang kamuwarayan. Kung nahabon niya lang kuta.

Maliwanag an mga sulo sa kwarto pero mayo an mga ini kumpara sa liyab kan liwanag na hali sa trono. Nadangog na kan preso an mga istorya tungkol sa nilalang pero mayong tataramon an makakataong hustisya sa katataktan na nakatukaw sa atubangan niya.

Nagtuturo an dugo hali sa ngabil kan Datu. Nakadangog an preso nin nakakasukang tanog. Tigtitigan siya kan Datu kan saiyang sarong pulang mata. Garo may tigsabi ini sa saiyang lenggwahe. Tigtanggal an mga kadena kan preso. Dae niya aram kung anong nangyari pero bako ining maray.

Nagtaong agihan an mga gwardya asin winalat na bukas an pintuan. Nagdalagan an preso. Dae niya papalampason an pagkakataon na ini. Kung pinapadulag man siya, ini an gusto ninda mangyari. Kung ini ay iba man, maray na na may pagkakataon siya.

Harani na siya sa luwas bago siya nilamon kan dakulang kalayo.

May pulso nin sulo an garing na tambuli kan Datu. Kinua niya an payo kan preso asin kinakan niya ini. Tano daw ta perme tigkakawatan kan Datu an saiyang pagkakan, sa paghorop-horop kan mga gwardya. Pero dae na lang sinda nagtaram. Nagigibo kan hadi an anuman na gusto niyang gibuhon.

————————–————————–————————–

English Version

The chains felt heavy on the prisoner’s wrists. He was led into a new room. The prisoner knew that he was already dead the moment he stepped in the palace. It was foolish of him to even consider going to the city of the Buso, but he knew glory was on the line. If only he had managed to steal it.

The torches in the room were burning brightly, but they were dwarfed by the blaze radiating from the throne. The prisoner had only heard stories about this creature, but those words could not do justice to the horror that sat before him.

Blood dripped from the Datu’s mouth. The prisoner heard a sickening crunch and the Datu stared at him with its one red eye. It mumbled something in its language and the prisoner’s chains were set loose. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but, with his luck, it wasn’t something good.

The buso guards gave way and left the doorway open. The prisoner ran. He wasn’t going to let his chance go to waste. If they were letting him go then this was what they wanted, if this was something else then he would at least have a chance.

He almost got to the courtyard before a large flame overtook him.

The Datu’s ivory horn pulsed with flame. It grabbed the prisoner’s head and started eating. The guards wondered why the Datu always played with his food, but they kept silent. Royalty does what it will.

————————–————————–———————–

*Central Bikol, commonly called Bikol 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 Bikol speakers can be found in all provinces of Bicol and it is a majority language in Camarines Sur.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Tagalog Translation by Angela Arnante
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Angela Arnante

Inspired by the Datu of the Buso description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

Datu of the Buso Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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*Note this story is in Kapampangan

Metung ya mu buri: daya.

Linawe na ngang Manib deng memagkalat ya bangke da reng kayang kawal. Karakal da na reng bagani na mengamate keng buso, dapot ali pa yari ing pamipamuk. Medinan lang istu mung oras na makapulayi deng manuknangan, uling mengasugat ne ing buso manibat keng karelang tabak. Mabiye ya pa ing buso, balu nang bumalik ya pa kaniti.

Pinulut neng Manib itang metagan keng baluting gindua ning kawal. Sapak neng daya ing masalat a abaka ya panyagka ning karelang katawan. Sibulan ya ing lagyu ning kawal. Aganaka neng Manib, yapin ya itang manigtigang kuglong kanitang piyesta. Ali na sana buring Sibulan ya maging kawal, oneng ala neng akarapat ning sinugud ya karela ing buso.

Tinalnan neng Manib ing kayang tabak, matalik. Pilan pa ba ing dapat mate karela bayu ya mate ining buso? Abi na ning mabalian*, menibat ya ing buso keng aliwang yatu, perala da reng dimonyu para keng kagulwan da reng manginu keng katalauran.

Ali na agyung isipang betingan da reng ginu ing kayang balen. Atin yang pamigalang i Manib kareng miglalang: Macoreret, Domacolen, Macaponguis, Tiguiama, ampong deng aliwa pa. Atin yang kasalpantayanan kareng miglalang, panwalan nang ali da la kabud paimburisan king kasakitan da ngeni.

Minta ne i Manib nung nokarin la mikit-mikit deng kayang kawal. Bitbit da na la reng karelang armas; makayadia na lang mate para king karelang pamilya, gang buso pa ing karelang kapate. Ning ikit na muring Manib keng malda reng kayang anak, sinikan ya lub; ala nang panaun para mag-adwang-isip
.
Kaibat kanita, ginulisak yang masikang-masikan. Demdam da reng sabla ing kayang siuala: “Ali ta papabureng siran na ning buso ing eganagana. Menibat ya man kang Darago—kaputol dang Colambusan, Comalay, Tagamahng, Siring ampong Abac—mate ya murin keng kekatamung tabak! Makipamuk tamu angga magus ya ngan ing kayang daya keng kekatamung tabak!”

Masikan muring gulisak ing pekibat da reng kawal. Anggang nang malyari, ali la murung deng bagani. Kaibat deng begut keng kaluban deng karelang tabak, memanyugud na la keng pisalikutan ning mangaynang buso.

Daya ing buri na ning buso—dapot deng kawal, sane la keng dayang miyayagus keng gabun.

————————–————————–————————–—–

English Version

All it knows is blood.

Manib looked at the valley littered with the bodies of his warriors. Too many bagani* had succumbed to the battle with the beast and he knew it wasn’t over. His men were able to wound the buso long enough to give time to the rest of the villagers to escape but he knew it would be back.

He crouched and picked up the remnants of a warrior’s gindua armor. The ragged edges of the abaca strips that they used for inner protection was soaked red. Sibulan, that was his name. Manib remembered that he saw him during the last festival and he was playing his two stringed kuglong. Sibulan never meant to become a warrior, but there were no other options when the buso struck.

Manib clenched his bolo. How many more would have to die before the buso was finished? The priestess said that it was a warning from the other world. The great demons were sending their messengers to wreak havoc on the worshippers of the just.

He didn’t believe that the gods would be so cruel to leave them alone. Manib had always respected the creators, Macoreret, Domacolen, Macaponguis,Tiguiama and all the rest. He knew they wouldn’t forsake his people in their darkest time.
Manib walked to where his remaining men were gathered. They had their weapons and were prepared to die trying to save their families from the buso. He saw a few of his sons in the crowd and he knew that it was no time to falter.

He prepared his voice and shouted as far as the last man could hear “We will never allow this creature to destroy what we have. This agent of Darago, brother to Colambusan, Comalay, Tagamahng, Siring and Abac will fall to our swords! We will fight until its blood runs through our swords!”

His warriors responded with a loud shout. His bagani would never consider retreat as an option and they drew their weapons and charged at the wounded beast’s hiding place.
This buso may know blood, but his warriors were also used to spilling it.

————————–————————–————————–

• Kapampangan, Pampango, or the Pampangan language is one of the major languages of the Philippines. It is spoken in the province of Pampanga, most parts of Tarlac and Bataan. Kapampangan is also understood in some municipalities of Bulacan and Nueva Ecija and by the Aitas or Aeta of Zambales. The language is also referred to honorifically in the Kapampangan language as Amánung Sísuan, meaning “breastfed/nurtured language.” In 2012, Kapampangan was one of the major languages of the Philippines, taught and studied formally in schools and universities.

*The warrior class of the Bagobo people

*Colambusan, Comalay, Tagamahng, Siring and Abac are names of demons in Bagobo cosmology.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Translated by Joseph Argel Gania Galang
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Joseph Argel Gania Galang

Inspired by the Bagobo Buso myths and the Buso/Busaw/Busao description in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971.

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

All it knows is blood.

Manib looked at the valley littered with the bodies of his warriors. Too many bagani had succumbed to the battle with the beast and he knew it wasn’t over. His men were able to wound the buso long enough to give time to the rest of the villagers to escape but he knew it would be back.

He crouched and picked up the remnants of a warrior’s gindua armor. The ragged edges of the abaca strips that they used for inner protection were soaked red. Sibulan, that was his name. Manib remembered that he saw him during the last festival and he was playing his two stringed kuglong. Sibulan never meant to become a warrior, but there were no other options when the buso struck.

Manib clenched his bolo. How many more would have to die before the buso was finished? The priestess said that it was a warning from the other world. The great demons were sending their messengers to wreak havoc on the worshipers of the just.

He didn’t believe that the gods would be so cruel to leave them alone. Manib had always respected the creators, Macoreret, Domacolen, Macaponguis,Tiguiama and all the rest. He knew they wouldn’t forsake his people in their darkest time.

Manib walked to where his remaining men were gathered. They had their weapons and were prepared to die trying to save their families from the buso. He saw a few of his sons in the crowd and he knew that it was no time to falter.

He prepared his voice and shouted as far as the last man could hear “We will never allow this creature to destroy what we have. This agent of Darago, brother to Colambusan, Comalay, Tagamahng, Siring and Abac will fall to our swords! We will fight until its blood runs through our blades!”

His warriors responded with a loud shout. His bagani would never consider retreat as an option. There was a second of silence before they drew their weapons and charged at the wounded beast’s hiding place.

This buso may know blood, but his warriors were also used to spilling it.

————————–————————–————————-

*Bagani is the name of the warrior class of the Bagobo people.
*Colambusan, Comalay, Tagamahng, Siring and Abac are names of demons in Bagobo cosmology.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Bagobo Buso myths.

Buso Illustration by Leandro Geniston from Aklat ng mga Anito
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