*Note this story is in Aklanon

Nabatyagan ko ro kaeamig it saesaeon ku siyaw nga nagaduot sa akong panit.

Nag-umpisa raya ku 5:30 it hapon. Ro hampang nga basketbol hay owa man magbuhay ag ginapauli ako it timprano ku akong nanay ngani pinaspasan ko ro pagpadueong sa baeay. Ro huni hay mahinay, apang bation nga mayad. Tumueok ako sa akong tuo ag kat hakita ko ro puno it santoe hay sayod ko eon kon ano rato.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

Bati ko gid nga mayad ro tunog sa akong mga dueunggan ag gulpi eamang hay habatian ko man ro mga limog it akong lolo ag lola, “Kon ro huni it wakwak hay mabaskug buot-hambaeon karon hay maeayo ron imaw, apang magdahan ka kon mahinay ro limog kara, bangod ro buot-hambaeon karon hay maeapit eang imaw ra nga mayad.” Maemae ro akong kakueba kat sumueod eon ako sa baeay.

Ro puno it santoe hay una git-a pa man sa ibabaw it hueot ku akong mga ginikanan, ngani sayod ko nga hikita ko gid kon may una gid man idto nga mailaan du wakwak. Kat hakita ko ro akong nabdos nga nanay nga nagapamantaw it TV, sayod ko eon. Ro away hay nag-umpisa eon.

Nagpaeangumang ako sa pagbuoe it siyaw sa kusina, matsa kaugan kara sa akong alima, bangod siguro nga sayod ko kon ano ro akong ubrahon. Tinago ko ro siyaw sa akong shorts, ag lumingkod kaiping ni nanay, hinueat ko ro pagguwa it puea nga dila ku halimaw.

Humueat ko.

Naghilinueat ko.

Mga 30 minuto akong gabilinantay. 30 minuto asta ako hay gumuwa sa liwan padueong sa puno it santoe agud pamatian kon una pa ro limog.

Hinueat ko ag daya hay owa eon.

Asta makaron, gusto kong isipon nga habatyag it tinuga nga ako hay haum sa pagsukoe ag ro akong nanay hay indi basta-basta nga hikaon. Apang ginakilinuebaan man gihapon ako sa kada pagtueok ko sa puno it santoe, naga-eaum nga hibatian ro kanamiton nga falsetto nga

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————-=

English Version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand, probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————-=

*Aklanon (Akeanon), also known as Bisaya/Binisaya nga Aklanon/Inaklanon or simply Aklan, is an Austronesian language of the Bisayan subgroup spoken by the Aklanon people in the province of Aklan on the island of Panay in the Philippines. Its unique feature among other Bisayan languages is the close-mid back unrounded vowel [ɤ] occurring as part of diphthongs and traditionally written with the letter ⟨Ee⟩ such as in the autonyms Akean and Akeanon. However, this phoneme is also present in other but geographically scattered and distant Philippine languages, namely Itbayat, Isneg, Manobo, Samal and Sagada.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Aklanon Translation by WJ Manares
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © WJ Manares

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

Batyagan ko mangud ya pagdúot kang maramig nga sundang sa pánit ko.

Nagsugod ja kayang hapon kang alas singko y medya. Natapos bai timprano ya sipal namon mu karan nga si Nanay gina pa-uli’ du ko tulad. Apang samtang ga panaw ko pa-uli’, may nabati-an ko nga daw urangol pai hinay. Gin lisó ko ya ulo ko sa tu’ú kag kang nakita ko ya púno ka Santol, man’an ko run kung ano agtong nabatían ko.

“Wak.. wak.. wak….”

Gatagring nga huní sa taringa ko. Pai naaligmatan takón kang madumduman ko ya gin kuon kanakon kang mga katigulangan kauna. “Kung ya huní kang Wakwak matúnog, marayo day’á kanimo. Pai halong timo kung maghinay ana huní kai marapit du ran tana..”

Sa huná-huná ko samtang ga parang lápsi’on takón pasulod sa balay.

Ya sanga kang Santol nmon ga latay sa atup kang kwarto dai Nanay, muran makita ko gilayún kung may wakwak mangud o wara. Kang nakita ko ya gamabdos ko nga iloy garantaw ti TV, man’an ko run ano ana kinutuyó. Daw ma supúkay gid kami kara.

Dayon ko daragan pa kamalig kag bul’on ya sundang. Man’an ko run ya buhaton ko mu ja guro du kamag’an tana ti bit-biton. Tinago ko ya sundang sa bulsa ko kag nagpungko íngud kay Nanay samtang gahurat ka mga tini-ón nga magpakita ana marabog nga díla’.

Naghurat ko…

Kag naghurat…

Tungá’ dun sa oras nagdayon, tinak’an du ko kahurat mura nag panaw ko paagto sa puno kang Santol kag namati kung bati’on pa ti limog na.

Nadura dun ya huní na..

Asta tulad, gina binag-binag ko nga basi man’an ka wakwak nga batu-an ko gid tana kung biktímahun ya si Nanay. Pai di ko japon maributay kag gaparindog balahibu ko kada turok ko sa puno ka Santol. Inang bisán san’o, basí makabatí du man ko mahinay nga huní ka…

“Wak..wak..wak..”

=——————————————=

English Version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————————=

*The Karay-a language, or Kinaray-a is an Austronesian regional language spoken by the Karay-a people, mainly in Antique in the Philippines, Iloilo and other provinces on the island of Panay, as well as portions of the SOCCSKSARGEN region in Mindanao. It is one of the Visayan languages, mainly along with Aklanon/Malaynon, Capiznon and Hiligaynon. As of 2015, there is an estimated 1,200,000 speakers of Kinaray-a with almost half of them are from Antique and Iloilo provinces.

Written by Karl Gaverza

Translation by Arj Horlador

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Arj Horlador

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

IG: https://www.instagram.com/iq_artworks/

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Nararamdaman ko ang malamig na kutsilyo na nakadiin sa aking balat.

Nagsimula ito ng ika-5:30 ng hapon. Natapos kaagad ang laro ng basketball at nagmamadali ako dahil pinapauwi ako ng maaga ng aking nanay. Mayroon akong naririnig na mahinang tunog pero parang nakikilala ko ito. Tumingin ako sa aking kanan at sa puno ng santol nalaman ko ng tuluyan kung ano ito.

“Wak….wak….wak….”

Nagtagal ang tunog nito sa aking tenga at biglang naalala ko ang payo ng aking lolo’t lola, “Malayo ang Wak-wak kapag maingay ito, pero mag-alala ka kapag humina ang tunog nito, ibig sabihin malapit lang ito sa iyo.” Nanlamig ang buong katawan ko habang papasok ako sa bahay.

Ang puno ng santol ay nasa taas lamang ng tulugan ng aking mga magulang, kaya kailangan ko agad tingnan kung ano ang pinag-iinteresan ng Wak-wak. Noong nakita kong buntis yung nanay ko at nanonood siya ng TV, iyon yung puntong naintindihan ko ang lahat. Nagsimula na ang laban.

Tumakbo ako sa kusina para kumuha ng kutsilyo, magaan ito nang hinawakan ko, marahil ito ay sa kadahilanan na alam ko ang kinakailangan kong gawin. Tinago ko ito sa aking shorts, tumabi ako sa aking nanay, at naghihintay kung sakaling sumugod ang halimaw at ilabas ang pulang dila nito.

Naghintay ako nang naghintay.

Tatlumpong minuto akong nakabantay. Tatlumpong minuto rin bago ako lumabas para pakinggan kung nag-iingay pa rin ito.

Naghihintay ako pero wala akong naririnig.

Hanggang sa araw na ito, iniisip ko na baka naramdaman ng Wak-wak na handa akong lumaban at hindi agad mabibiktima ang aking nanay. Pero hanggang ngayon ako ay kinakabahan tuwing ako ay titingin sa puno ng santol, na baka may marinig ako na

“Wak….wak….wak….”

=————————————————————————-=

English version

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

=——————————————=

*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 Emman Bernardino
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Emman Bernardino

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations

IG: https://www.instagram.com/iq_artworks/

*Note this story is in Cebuano

Danglog ang hangin na inubanan sa baho sa bala ug singot. Ang sundawo wa masayod kung nganong di niya ma-abot ang iyahang komander o bisan kinsa sa iyahang rihiminto, apan nasayod siyang magpabilin sa pag-atubang sa peligro. Di niya biyaan ang iyahang misyon sugo sa iyahang emperador nga angkonon ni’ng mga isla.

Ang langub nga iyahang gitaguan nanimaho’g baklag sa kahugaw apan wa siya’y mabuhat kabahin niini. Ang mga Amerikano miabot ug mihunong sa tanang suplay, wa na siya masayod sa nahitabo sa uban niyang kauban, tingali nangamatay na kini, o mas daotan nadakpan.

Sa matag gabi-i nakapamati siya ug nagkamang nga kahadlok nga adunay nagtanaw sa iyaha. Nagbutang siya ug mga lit-ag alang sa pagkaon, ug kanunay paggalantawon kini niya mataadlaw. Wala siya masayod kung unsay nagpahipi sa kabukiran sa gabi-i, apan usa isa ka sundawo ug iyang andam atubangon na adunay kaisog sa iyang kasingkasing.

Gimingaw siya sa baybayon nga iyang pinuy-anan sa kanhing bata pa siya, gimingaw siya sa pagkaon nga di siya ang mangita, apan labaw sa tanan gimingaw siya sa kahilwasan sa iyang kanhing panimalay.

Ang lumulupyo aning kabukiran nagsaysay ug sugilanon nga nagpahinumdom sa iyahang kabatan-unan, sugilanon sa ispirito sa mga kababayen-an nga adunay tag-as nga buhok. Bahin niya dili mutuo niining mga katawa-anan nga tuotuo, apan laing bahin sa iyang pagkatawo gitawag iyang kalag. Ang kagabhiun sa sundawo napuno sa pagpaabot sa taas ug buhok nga babaye aron siya kuhaon.

Kining yuta sa kalag gitawag nga Manlalayog, apan kung unsa man ang pangalan, nasayod siya kung unsay mabuhat niini sa iyaha. Ang taas nga buhok ang maong maghubas sa iyahang kabatan-unan hangtod sa panit nalang ang mahabilin.

Usa to ka mainit na hapon kanus-a nakakita ang sundawo ug mga hibla sa buhok sulod sa langob. Wala siya masayod kung diin ni gikan, apan nasayod siyang dili kini iyaha.

Kakuyaw ang nisulbong sa tibuok niyang kalawasan, nasayod siya nga adunay patrol sa mga Amerikano sa duol, ug iyang ibalibag iyang kaugalingon sa ilang kaluoy kaysa sa kaluoy nga iyahang damhon sa usa ka multo. Tanan kaisog nga iyang gidahom anaa kaniya nahilis lamang ug kalit.

Midagan siya’g sa paspas nga iyang madagan palayo sa peligro sa iyahang temporaryo nga puluy-anan ug didto sa mga bukton sa iyang labing gikasilagang mga kaaway.
Kini tanan tungod sa pipila ka mga hibla sa taas nga buhok.

English Version

The air was slick with the smell of bullets and sweat. The soldier didn’t know why he could not reach his commander or any of his regiment, but he knew he had to be steadfast in the face of danger. He would not abandon his mission by the emperor to claim these islands.

The cave he was hiding in was fetid with the smell of filth but there was nothing he could do about that. The Americans came in and stopped all line of supply, he did not know what happened to the rest of his comrades, they may have been killed, or worse captured.

Night after night he felt the creeping sense of something that was watching him. He had laid out traps for food, and he always made sure to check them every day. He did not know what lurked in the mountains during the night, but he was a soldier and he would face it with bravery in his heart.

He missed the coast that was his childhood home, he missed having food that he did not have to hunt, but most of all he missed the safety of his old home.

The people of these mountains told tales that reminded him of his boyhood, tales of spirit women with long hair. Part of him did not believe such silly superstition, but another part called out to his soul. The soldier’s nights were filled with waiting for the long haired woman to claim him.

In this land the spirit was called Manlalayog, but whatever the name he knew what she could do to him. The long hair draining his youth until nothing would be left but a husk.

It was a hot afternoon when the soldier found the strands of hair in his cave. He did not know where they came from, but he knew they were not his.

Panic surged though his body, he knew there would be an American patrol nearby, and he could throw himself on their mercy, for what mercy could he expect from a ghost? All the bravery he thought he could possess melted away in that instant.

He ran, faster than he thought he ever could, he ran from the danger of his temporary home and into the arms of his most hated enemies.

All because of a few strands of long hair.

————————–————————–————————–—

*The manlalayog resembles myths of long-haired ghost women in Japanese folklore. American and Filipino soldiers used to tell these stories in hopes of scaring Japanese soldiers hiding in the mountains.

*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. The Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino, the official regulating body of Philippine languages, spells the name of the language as Sebwano.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Cebuano Translation by Dominic G. Quilantang
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Dominic G. Quilantang

Inspired by a tale told by the grandmother of Ian Quirante

Manlalayog Illustration by Maku Felix
FB: Maku Felix

Watercolor by Yanna Gemora
FB: Yannami

*Note this story is in Cebuano

“Wala pa man ‘ko gikapoy!”

“Shhh, kinahanglan na ka magpahulay kay ting-katulog na.”
“pero wala pa man ‘ko gikapoy! Mama, sulti-i ko ug istorya? Sige na….”

“Na hala sige, pero usa ra unya matulog na dayun ka paghuman ha?”

“Oo, pramis! Unsa man ang imo i-istorya nako? Naa ba ‘ni dragon o pawikan o astronot ba kaha?!”

“Ka-abtik ba sa imong huna-huna, pero kini nga istorya kay giistorya sa akoang inahan kanako kaniadto.”
“OOOOoooohhhh.”

“Hilom na kay sugdan ko na. Ginganlan kini’g Si Juana ug ang Banwaanon.”

“Kaniadto, adunay usa ka batang babaye nga ginganlag Juana, dili siya ang kina-maanyagun sa ilang baryo ug iya kining gusto makalimtan pero dili niya kini mahimo tungod sa mga tao sa iyang palibot. Tiaw-tiawan nila siya pero kini walay dautang tumong ug binuang ra. Pero adunay usa ka babaye, si Luisa, nga mapintas kaniya.

Usa ka adlaw, samtang namalantsa si Juana sa bisti ni Luisa, nasunog niya kini nga wala tuyoà. Nasukò pag-ayo si Luisa ug iyang gisagpà si Juana. Iya pa kining giingnan nga lumsan ang iyang kaugalingon didto sa dagat. Wala kini tumana ni Juana, milayas kini ug mipapaulì siya sa balay sa iyang mga ginikanan sa probinsya.

Sa wala pa siya makaabot sa iyang padulngan, mihapit usà siya sa usá ka tubod duol sa langub para muinom ug bugnaw nga tubig. Sa pag hangad niya, nakurat siya sa iyang nakita, usá ka babayeng maaninduton ug buhok nga nagbit-bit ug mga plato. ‘hugaw na ‘ning mga platoha’ ingon ang babaye ‘pwede ba nimo kining pamuakon ug ilabay sa sapà para nakò?’

Gidala ni Juana ang mga hugason sa sapà, apan nakahuna-huna siya nga anugon kaayó kung iyang pamuakon kini. Wala niya kini pamuaka ug gihugasan na lamang niya kini ug iyang giuli sa babaye.

Nagpasalamat ang maong babaye ug miingon ‘Tungod sa imong pagka-maalam, dili ka na maot pa. Pagpakita didto sa mga taga-baryo’

Sa pagbalik ni Juana sa baryo, nagpaila-ila siya sa iyang kaugalingon kay walà na siya ma-ilhi sa mga taga didto. Nabuotan pinakalit si Luisa kang Juana ug nangutana siya kung unsay nahitabo nganong nagbag-o ang hulagway niya. Giistoryahan ni Juana si Luisa bahin sa babae nga nagpabuak sa iya sa mga plato.

Niadto si Luisa sa sapa duol sa langob ug nakita niya ang maong babaye ug giingnan usab siya bahin sa mga plato. Dali-dali niyang gituman ang maong sugo sa babaye ug iyang gipamuak ang nga hugason. ‘Salamat, pwede na ka mulakaw’ ingon ang babaye kaniya.

Mibalik si Luisa sa barrio apan wala siya mahibalo nga nabag-o na diay ang iyang panagway nga mas ngil-ad pa kang Juana sa wala pa siya nahimong maanyagon.”
“Mura mag lain ang imong istorya mommy, unsay buot ipasabot ani?”

“Kini nga istorya usa ka pasidaan, langga. Kung imong matabo ang Banwaanon, dili ka gayud makabalo unsay imong dangaton, pero kung imong ipakita ang imong pagkamaalamun, mamahimo kang mas maayo pa kaysa sauna.

Oras na para matulog, alì na ngare.”

English Version

“I’m not tired yet!”

“Shhh, it’s bedtime already and you need your rest.”

“But I’m not tired! Mama, can you tell me a story? Pleeeeassse…..”

“All right, all right, but just one and you go right to bed after okay?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what story are you going to tell me? Can it have dragons and turtles and spacemen?!”

“You have such an active imagination, but I’m going to tell you a story that my mother used to tell me.”

“OOOOoooohhhh.”

“Hush now, let’s start the story. It’s called Juana and the Banwaanon.

Once upon a time there was a girl named Juana, she was not the prettiest girl in the town, and she always tried to forget the fact. Unfortunately, the people around her would not let her forget. Most of their jokes would be good natured, though, but one girl, Luisa, was nothing but cruel.

One day, Juana was ironing one of Luisa’s gowns and accidentally burned it. Luisa was furious, she slapped Juana right across the face and even told her to go drown herself in the sea. Juana, who wasn’t about to take advice from someone that just beat her, left the house and went back to her parent’s home in the province.

Before she reached her destination, she decided to stop by a spring near a cave to have a drink of cool water. As she looked up, she was surprised to see a beautiful, fair haired woman carrying some plates. ‘These dishes are all very dirty,’ the woman said ‘would you be so kind as to break them and throw them in the river for me?’

Juana did the favor for the woman and brought the plates by the river, but then she thought how wasteful it would be to just destroy the lovely porcelain and decided to wash them and return them to the woman instead.

The woman thanked her and said ‘For your wisdom you will be rewarded, you shall be ugly no more. Show yourself to the townspeople.’

When Juana went back to own she had to identify herself to the townspeople because of how different she looked. Luisa, who was suddenly nice to her, desperately asked her how this happened. Juana related her experience with the woman who had told her to break the porcelain plates.

Luisa went to the stream by the cave, met the woman and was told the same thing about the plates. In her hurry, she obeyed the woman to the letter, breaking the plates in the river. ‘Thank you, you may go now’ was the only thing the woman said to Luisa after.

Luisa went back to the town, not knowing she had been transformed into something uglier than Juana had ever been.”

“That seems like a very strange story mommy. What does it mean?”

“It’s less of a story and more of a warning, sweetie. When you deal with the Banwaanon, you never know what you’re going to get, but as long as you show wisdom and think about things, you may manage to come out better than before.

Now it’s bedtime, let me tuck you in.”

*Banwaanon are sometimes called Katsila

*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. The Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino, the official regulating body of Philippine languages, spells the name of the language as Sebwano.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Translation by Modelle Turrobia
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Modelle Turrobia

Story adapted from ‘Denizens of Fairyland’ in Philippine Folk Literature: The Legends. Eugenio. 2002.

Banwaanon Illustration and Watercolor by Marc Magpantay
Tumblr: Glassy-draws.tumblr.com
FB: Murcy Murc Art

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Malagkit ang ere sa amoy na bala at pawis. Hindi alam ng sundalo kung bakit hindi niya maabot ang kanyang kumander, o ang kanyang mga kapwa sundalo, pero alam niyang kailangan niyang maging matatag sa mukha ng panganib. Hindi niya isasantabi na lang ang kanyang misyon sa emperador na sakupin ang mga isla na ito.

Masangsang dahil sa amoy ng dumi ang kwebang pinagtataguan niya pero wala naman siyang magagawa ukol dun. Dumating ang mga Amerikano at tinigil ang lahat ng daloy ng mga padalang pagkain o armas, hindi niya alam kung ano ang kinahinatnan ng kanyang mga kasamahan, maaaring pinaslang na sila, o mas malala, nahuli.

Gabi gabi nararamdaman niya ang nakakakilabot na pakiramdam na may nanonood sa kanya. Naglagay siya ng mga patibong para sa pagkain, at sinisigurado niyang tinitignan niya ang mga ito araw araw. Hindi niya alam kung ano ang nagmamasid at nagtatago sa kabundukan, ngunit siya ay sundalo at haharapin niya ito nang may tapang sa puso.

Nangulila siya sa dalampasigan na kaniyang tinirahan nang kanyang pagkabata, nangulila siya sa pagkakaroon ng pagkain na hindi kinakailangang mangaso pa, ngunit higit sa lahat nangulila siya sa ligtas na piling ng kaniyang tahanan noon.

Ang mga tao sa kabundukan ay may mga alamat na nagpapaalala sa kanya ng kanyang kabataan, mga alamat ukol sa kaluluwa ng mga babaeng mahahaba ang buhok. May maliit na banda sa kanyang sarili na hindi naniniwala sa pipitsuging mga pamahiin, pero may banda rin na bumubulong sa kanyang isipan. Puno ang gabi ng mga sundalo ng paghihintay sa pagkuha sa kanya ng babaeng may mahabang buhok.

Puna niya na sa ibayong iyon ang espirito ay tinatawag na Manlalayog, pero hindi niya mapuna ang mga maaring gawin sa kanya nito. Ang mahabang buhok na hihigop sa kanyang sigla at kabataan hangga’t wala nang natira kundi balat.

Mainit ang tanghali nang makakita ang sundalo ng kumpol ng buhok sa kaniyang kuweba. Hindi niya alam kung saan galing ang mga ito, ngunit alam niya na hindi ito sa kanya.

Napuno siya ng kaba, alam niyang may gumagalang patrol ng Amerikano na malapit, at maaari niyang ipaubaya ang sarili niya sa awa ng mga ito, dahil anong awa ang aasahan mo sa isang multo. Lahat ng katapangan na akala niya’y makakamit niya ay natunaw nang biglaan.

Tumakbo siya, hindi niya inaasahan ang sarili niyang bilis, tinakbuhan niya ang panganib sa kanyang pansamantalang tirahan at papunta sa kamay ng kanyang mga pinakakinasusuklamang mga kaaway.

Lahat ng ito dahil sa kumpol na buhok.

————————–————————–———————–

English Version

The air was slick with the smell of bullets and sweat. The soldier didn’t know why he could not reach his commander or any of his regiment, but he knew he had to be steadfast in the face of danger. He would not abandon his mission by the emperor to claim these islands.

The cave he was hiding in was fetid with the smell of filth but there was nothing he could do about that. The Americans came in and stopped all line of supply, he did not know what happened to the rest of his comrades, they may have been killed, or worse captured.

Night after night he felt the creeping sense of something that was watching him. He had laid out traps for food, and he always made sure to check them every day. He did not know what lurked in the mountains during the night, but he was a soldier and he would face it with bravery in his heart.

He missed the coast that was his childhood home, he missed having food that he did not have to hunt, but most of all he missed the safety of his old home.

The people of these mountains told tales that reminded him of his boyhood, tales of spirit women with long hair. Part of him did not believe such silly superstition, but another part called out to his soul. The soldier’s nights were filled with waiting for the long haired woman to claim him.

In this land the spirit was called Manlalayog, but whatever the name he knew what she could do to him. The long hair draining his youth until nothing would be left but a husk.

It was a hot afternoon when the soldier found the strands of hair in his cave. He did not know where they came from, but he knew they were not his.

Panic surged though his body, he knew there would be an American patrol nearby, and he could throw himself on their mercy, for what mercy could he expect from a ghost? All the bravery he thought he could possess melted away in that instant.

He ran, faster than he thought he ever could, he ran from the danger of his temporary home and into the arms of his most hated enemies.

All because of a few strands of long hair.

————————–————————–————————–—

*The manlalayog resembles myths of long-haired ghost women in Japanese folklore. American and Filipino soldiers used to tell these stories in hopes of scaring Japanese soldiers hiding in the mountains.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Tagalog Translation by Ghost Kendrick
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Ghost Kendrick

Inspired by a tale told by the grandmother of Ian Quirante

Manlalayog Illustration by Maku Felix
FB: Maku Felix

Watercolor by Yanna Gemora
FB: Yannami

The air was slick with the smell of bullets and sweat. The soldier didn’t know why he could not reach his commander or any of his regiment, but he knew he had to be steadfast in the face of danger. He would not abandon his mission by the emperor to claim these islands.

The cave he was hiding in was fetid with the smell of filth but there was nothing he could do about that. The Americans came in and stopped all line of supply, he did not know what happened to the rest of his comrades, they may have been killed, or worse captured.

Night after night he felt the creeping sense of something that was watching him. He had laid out traps for food, and he always made sure to check them every day. He did not know what lurked in the mountains during the night, but he was a soldier and he would face it with bravery in his heart.

He missed the coast that was his childhood home, he missed having food that he did not have to hunt, but most of all he missed the safety of his old home.

The people of these mountains told tales that reminded him of his boyhood, tales of spirit women with long hair. Part of him did not believe such silly superstition, but another part called out to his soul. The soldier’s nights were filled with waiting for the long haired woman to claim him.

In this land the spirit was called Manlalayog, but whatever the name he knew what she could do to him. The long hair draining his youth until nothing would be left but a husk.

It was a hot afternoon when the soldier found the strands of hair in his cave. He did not know where they came from, but he knew they were not his.

Panic surged though his body, he knew there would be an American patrol nearby, and he could throw himself on their mercy, for what mercy could he expect from a ghost? All the bravery he thought he could possess melted away in that instant.

He ran, faster than he thought he ever could, he ran from the danger of his temporary home and into the arms of his most hated enemies.

All because of a few strands of long hair.

————————–————————–————————–—

*The manlalayog resembles myths of long-haired ghost women in Japanese folklore. American and Filipino soldiers used to tell these stories in hopes of scaring Japanese soldiers hiding in the mountains.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by a tale told by the grandmother of Ian Quirante

Manlalayog Illustration by Maku Felix
FB: Art of Maku Felix

Watercolor by Yanna Gemora
FB: Yannami

I could feel the cold steel of the knife pressing against my skin.

It started at 5:30 pm. The basketball game didn’t take too long and my mom wanted me home early so I rushed home as soon as I could. The sound was faint, but very distinct. I looked towards my right and when I saw the santol tree I knew exactly what it was.

“Wak….wak…..wak….”

The sound rang in my ears and suddenly I was hit with my grandparents voices, “If the wakwak sound is loud then that means the creature is far, but be careful if the voice is soft, for that means it is very near.” My blood ran cold the moment I entered the house.

The santol tree was right above the bedroom of my parents, so I knew I had to see if there was anything there that the wakwak might want. When I saw my pregnant mother watching TV, that’s when I knew. The fight had begun.

I raced to the kitchen to get a knife, it felt light in my hand,
probably because I was sure of what I had to do. I hid the knife in my shorts, and sat next to my mother, waiting for the moment the monster would let loose its red tongue.

I waited.

I waited.

It was 30 minutes that I stayed on guard. 30 minutes until I ventured outside to the santol tree to hear if the voice persisted.

I waited and it was gone.

To this day, I’d like to think the creature sensed that I was ready for a fight and that my mother wouldn’t be easy prey. But there are still shivers down my spine every time I look at that santol tree, half expecting to hear a soft falsetto of

“Wak…..wak…..wak….”

————————–————————–————————––

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by a story told by Ian Quirante

Wak-wak Illustration by Ian Quirante
FB: Ian Quirante Illustrations