*Note this story is in Bahasa Sug

In tagainüp nangdüngdüngi kākü’ sin giyatusan mata niya ampa in aku amura in kapamanhüd ku ha kulangan ku.

Di’ ku kaingatan bang unu in kabaya’an niya, malayngkan di’ ku mapikil manga awn maksud niya kamudāratan. In mahaluk timikang harap mawn kākü’ iban sā’bu ku diyürüngdüngan in baran niya magpillaw-pillaw, kiyahātihan ku ra mayan. In pangdamat bükün mattan pangdamat. Hambuuk sadja pamānda’. In daligmata (Di’ ku kaingatan bang biya’ diin in kaingat ku sin ngān, simaygpat sadja pa lawm-uw ku) simusulay namayta’ kākü’ kalagihan ku pa’gangan in pagdatüng sin linug.

“Biya’ diin in kaagi ha yan?” Iyasubu ku in daligmata. Diyüngdüngan aku nagbalik, ampa kiyaingatan ku. Kalagihan ku madtu pa pag-aawnan ha manga linug. Subay ku sila kabayta’an manattapi wayruun kuhibal. “Mahi ta’ aku?” In sambung ha pangasubu ku dimatüng biya’ sahubbu ha pikilan ku. In daligmata himühüla’ ha lawm tagainüp, ampa makakuhibal sadja bang duun ha lawm hüla’-pārkawasahan. Wayrapat niya makakadtu pa kadunyahan sin manga baranan, labi wayrapat pa duruunan sin manga linug iban manga hunus bang  niya ri’ maparuun ha kīd niya in hambuuk mananagainüp.

Ampa nakakawa’ siya hambuuk mananagainüp.

In pagkadtu bükün sibu’ in anib iban sin ha napasandung ku. In daligmata, ha pikilan ku, nagpamayta’ sadja amura kalagihan ku in managainüp supāya aku makakadtu, ampa kiyahidāyatan aku marayaw. Biyayta’an aku papanagainüpün sin dunya, sagawa’ bükün biya’ sin kiyaingatan ku. Nagbissara siya pasal  siring-langit, in pagbü’lak sin dunya iban sin nārka’ iban sin manga simud sin manga mahaluk  himühüla’ didtu. Salupa sin manga hās nanglilibüri ha dunya, tiyatayak sin sangat-lagkü’ tuhan Magbabaya, nanglīgütan ha lawm uw ku. Tiyagainüp ku in siring-langit iban manga hās ni Magbabaya. Tiyagainüp ku in hüla’  amu in piyagpaawnan ha manga linug. Tiyagainüp ku in lupa’ sin manga hangin iban sin manga hunus.

Iban hangka küdjap da, didtu na aku.

“Uwya’ mānusiya’ magkamatay”. Nangasip kākü’ in tingüg babai. “Makakita’-makakita’ kami sin  pihak mu awn sadja pārsugpatan niya pa kahinangan ni Mangilala.” Hambuuk tingüg üsüg in simambung. Kiyahantapan ku sin imaatud aku ha manga uw sin duwa hās kalap-lagkü’, kaniya-kaniya labi malagkü’ dayng ha gibayan-dakula’ sangat-taas. Apit sa yadtu ku muga’, sagawa’ in kabassaran sin duwa nagpanananam kākü’ katahammulan labi-labihan.  Nimanam aku kasalamatan ha panghādiri nila.

Sīkmu’ aku sin daligmata dayng ha ulihan hangkan kiyatümtüman ku mahi aku miyadtu. “Manga Hās Salaggü’-laggü’…” Wala’ ku kiyaingatan bang biya’ diin in panawag kanila, sagawa’ nakira ku in pagpakita’ pag-addat di’  makamula. Biyayta’an ku sila sin pangdamat ku, in linug landu’ küsüg nangjuljana’ ha dāira ku iban nanglarak ha bāy ku.

“Amu ini in hüla’an sin manga linug, mānusiya’ asibi’,” Simambung in tingüg üsüg. “In pagjügjüg maawn bang kami humibal.”  In tingüg babai simambung. “In panghibal-hibal namü makahüküt ha dunya.” Laung sin tingüg üsüg. “Unu in kapunnyahan namü’ bang in dunya matigallam na?” Nangasubu in tingüg babai.

“Bang in pangdamat ku dumatüng, in dunya ku malawa’ na. Kalu baha’ tibahagi’an asibi’ da sin katiluagan dunya, sagawa’ in tibahagi’an manahut yadtu amu in kalunlunan dunya ku. In dāira yadtu hangka sibu’ in hālga’ kākü’ iban sin hālga’ sin manga ginlupa’an-langkus kaniyu.” Amu yadtu in sambung ku.

“Maisüg kaw.” Laung sin tingüg babai. “Wayruun pa mānusiya’ nakabissara kāmü’ iban katulusan.” Simambung in tingüg üsüg. “Kamataüran sin mānusiya’ pagsulayan kami dupangün hipalanggana’ in manga banta nila.” Namissara in tingüg babai. “Hambuuk ini  pamindahi  tatayma’ün.” Simambung in tingüg üsüg. “Naraak kami magpatütüg sin dunya ha kiyabübütangan.” Naglapal in tingüg babai. “Pa’gahan in pagtigallam sin dunya.” Simambung in tingüg üsüg. “Sagawa’ unu in hikarayaw bang matüpük in hambuuk dunya ha lawm sin dunya?” Nangasubu in tingüg babai.

“Hinangün namü’ biya’ sin piyangayu’ niyu. Tumattap kami wayruun hibal supāya in dunya niyu  kumakkal tibuuk.” In manga Intumbangul nagdüra’  simambung. “Kadtu na kaw, mānusiya’. In hüla’an sin manga linug bükün duruunan sin biya’ sin kajinis  mu.”

Simulay aku magsukul kanila, sagawa’ timagna’ na in hangin maküsüg dimüpüy. Diyā aku ampa itungan di’ aku makanapas.  In düpüy landu’ makajuljana’ pangannal ku biya’ aku sin pīrīt.  Nakapamahit aku.

Sakali nakabati’ aku.

In jāman-magbabanda’ ku kimatingüg. Lisag pitu na sin mahinaat.  Kiyaingatan ku makaikul aku pa iskul bang aku wala’ imüws. In pagsūkbanyul sin sasakatan adlaw ini makabuga’, biya’ sin dayng angay adlaw. Nangiyaban aku iban siyulayan ku tiyümtüm in panagainüp ku. Ha kira ku mataüd hās iban tiyumpukan mata imaatud kākü’, sagawa’ di’ ku na katümtüman puas ha yadtu.

In hambuuk pa jāman-babanda’ ku hikaruwa miyagting labi pa matanug dayng sin nakauna. Siminyal na sin panagna’an sin adlaw mataud ligap.

Naangan-angan ku bang aku nakahinang labi mataüd barāpa makaraüg-küwg.

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English Version

The dream stares at me with its hundred eyes and I stay frozen on my bed.

I don’t know what it wants, but I don’t think it means any harm. The creature walks over to me and as I stare at its blinking body, I finally understand. The nightmare wasn’t a nightmare at all. It was a warning. The daligmata (I don’t know how I know its name, it just popped in my head) was trying to tell me I needed to stop the earthquake from happening.

“How do I do that?” I asked the daligmata. It stared at me again, and I knew. I had to go to the place where earthquakes were born. I had to ask them to stay still. “Why me?” The answer to my question came in a flood of thoughts. The daligmata lives in dreams, and it can only move in that realm. It could never go in the physical world, much less the home of earthquakes and storms if it didn’t have a dreamer by its side.

And a dreamer it had.

The journey wasn’t as perilous as I imagined it to be. The daligmata was in my thoughts saying I only need to dream to be there and it guided me well. It told me to dream of the world, but not as I knew it. It spoke of the horizon, the split between the earth and the underworld and the mouths of the creatures that lived there. Images of the snakes wrapped around the world, held up by the great god Magbabaya, swirled in my head. I dreamt of the horizon, of the snakes, of Magbabaya. I dreamt of the place where earthquakes were born. I dreamt of the land of the winds and storms.

And in a flash, I was there.

“Hello mortal.” A feminine voice greeted me. “Whenever we see your kind Mangilala usually has something to do with it.” A male voice answered back. I realized I was staring at the heads of two gigantic snakes, each bigger than a skyscraper. I would have been scared, but the majesty of the two was making me feel so much awe. I felt safe in their presence.

The daligmata nudged me from behind and I remembered why I was there. “Great Serpents…” I didn’t know how to address them, but I figured showing respect wouldn’t hurt. I told them about the nightmare I had, the giant earthquake that ripped through my city and shattered my home.

“This is the home of earthquakes, little human.” The male voice answered. “The shakes are caused when we move.” The female voice replied. “Our movements keep the world tethered.” Said the male voice. “What use are we if the world is gone?” The female voice asked.

“If my nightmare happens, my world would be gone. It may be a small part of the entire earth, but that tiny bit is my whole world. That city is as important to me as the continents are to you.” Was my answer.

“You are brave.” The female voice said. “No mortal has ever spoken to us with such candor.” The male voice replied. “Most mortals try to trick us into destroying their enemies.” The female voice answered. “This is a welcome change.” The male voice replied. “We are tasked to keep the world in place.” The female voice said. “To keep the earth from falling away.” The male voice replied. “But what good is that if a world within the world is broken?” The female voice asked.

“We will do as you ask. We will stay still so your world may be kept intact.” The Intumbangol replied in unison. “Go now, mortal. The home of earthquakes is no place for your kind to be.”

I tried to thank them, but a strong wind started blowing. It picked me up and I almost couldn’t breathe. The gusts were so violent I thought I was being ripped apart. I screamed.

Then I woke up.

My alarm was going off. It was 7 AM. I knew I would be late for class if I didn’t hurry. The traffic would be terrible today, like every day. I yawned and tried to remember the dreams I had. I think there was a snake and a bunch of eyes looking at me, but I couldn’t recall much past that.

My backup alarm rang even louder than the first one. It signaled the start of a really long day.

I wish I did more exciting things.

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*Bahasa Sug or Tausug is an Austronesian language spoken in the province of Sulu in the Philippines and in the eastern area of the state of Sabah, Malaysia, by the Tausūg people. It is widely spoken in the Sulu Archipelago (Sulu, Tawi-Tawi, and Basilan), the Zamboanga Peninsula (Zamboanga del Norte, Zamboanga Sibugay, Zamboanga del Sur, and Zamboanga City), southern Palawan, and Malaysia (eastern Sabah).

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bahasa Sug translation by Benj Bangahan
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Benj Bangahan

Inspired by the Intumbangol description in The Soul Book. Demetrio, Cordero-Fernando &Zialcita 1991. And the Daligmata descriptions in Songs and Gifts at the Frontier : Person and Exchange in the Agusan Manobo Possession Ritual. Buenconsejo. 2002. & 101 Kagila-gilalas na Nilalang. Samar. 2015.

Intumbangol Illustration by Nadine Cabe
Tumblr: http://nadinecabe.tumblr.com/

Watercolor by Alexa Garde
Website: www.Lexa.us

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It was the last evening of the year and the rain still wouldn’t leave Danica alone. The sound of her chattering teeth joined the raindrops in a melancholy symphony. She huddled against her bare legs and naked feet to lure the last bit of warmth her body could give.

The hand me down slippers that her mother gave were much too big and they had fallen off while she ran for shelter. Danica noticed that one of them fell into the gutter and the other seemingly disappeared in the dark street.

So there Danica was, alone in the cold and damp, clutching her sampaguita flowers close to her chest. It was a slow day, not many cars were about and she hadn’t sold a single string of sampaguitas. No one had given her so much as a peso.

The lightning lit up the sky and the poor girl retreated into her corner. She didn’t dare go home, for she had sold nothing and her father would surely be angry with her. At home it was cold as well since the winds would surely come violently through here window and leave her room wet and freezing.

Her small hands were shivering. She held her flowers close and breathed in their scent. Danica always found comfort in the smell of flowers, they reminded her that there were still beautiful things in the world, if one cared to look.

The streetlights cast shadows that played in front of Danica’s eyes. She noticed that across her was a furniture shop. The lightning filled the street and for a brief second she could see into the store.

There was a table and on it was a lily white tablecloth. Beautiful silverware sat there surrounding a whole roast lechon. The pig was staring right at her and she thought she could see it smiling.

The spell of the scene broke as the thunder rang in Danica’s ears.

The roof above her began to leak and the raindrops mixed with her tears.

This year, Christmas was more somber than happy. It had been a difficult time; her father had lost his job in the factory and began to drink his problems away. Her mother tried to find work as a cleaning lady, but she wasn’t able to make enough for all their needs.

And lola Fatima, the only person who had loved her, was now no more. There was a pain in Danica’s heart that never went away after that.

Another bolt of lightning struck near, illuminating the street. Thousands of small lights danced in the air, and wonderful colors played in front of her. The little girl reached out and tried to grab them, but the light disappeared and once again, she was left alone.

She looked to the sky and waited for the lightning to come, and the sky answered her prayer. It was again light and in that radiance stood lola Fatima, so bright and lovely, with a smile that made the hurt in Danica’s heart leave.

“Lola!” The child cried out. “Please let me come with you!” She knew that her grandmother would disappear as soon as the thunder came rolling in, just like the floating lights. Danica’s breath stopped as thunder shook the windows around her.
But Lola Fatima did not disappear. She was surrounded by beautiful creatures, their skin porcelain white and their faces calm. They waved at Danica and she smiled back.

And all of them, the creatures and Lola Fatima stretched out their arms to the girl as if beckoning her to come. Danica stood up and walked to her lola. She wanted most to just feel warm again, to ignore the rain and the cold and be with someone that loved her.

The lightning struck one final time and Danica disappeared with the flash of light.

Some say that she ran away, preferring a life on the streets to her own home life. Others say a rich man found her and gave her a home and that she lives with him now as his adopted daughter.

Still one story persists, one where the girl finally finds peace in a heaven filled with beautiful faeries where she is finally safe and warm in the embrace of her lola.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the Faeries of Niza description in Tuwan Nahuda. Narrated by Muham Julasman. in Voices from Sulu A Collection of Tausug Oral Traditions. Rixhon. 2010.

The Faeries of Niza Illustration by emirajuju
IG: https://www.instagram.com/emirajuju/

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“A spark of Gugurang’s fire.”

The lambana knew this would end badly if she didn’t follow proper procedure. The last time something tried to take the fire of Gugurang without permission was the whole Asuang debacle, and she didn’t want this to be anything like that. She approached his servants and made a formal request for the spark. The lambana was representing her Diwata, and it was a request directly from Her. It only took a few years’ wait before the request was granted and the lambana was overjoyed that it was so fast.

“A coconut from the tree of Galangkalulua.”

Working her way through the children of Ulilangkalulua was no small feat. The lambana had to be very careful to be sure she wasn’t seen. Thankfully, her mistress told her that one of the small coconuts would suffice, thought it had to be. With the lambana’s small size, she couldn’t carry anything else. She crept among the clouds in the cover of night and snatched the coconut away before anyone was the wiser.

“A whisper of Saragnayan.”

Every creature knew of what happened to Saragnayan, how he loved his wife, Malitung Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata, and how he was defeated by the sons of the hero, Labaw Donggon. What they didn’t know was that Saragnayan still lived in the form of his spirit. His whispers echoed in the minds of those tempted to do evil and sow chaos. The Lambana didn’t have to go far to find a whisper, for Saragnayan voice could be heard in all places where humans lived. She snatched it as it was about to enter the ear of a young boy wondering whether he should steal a new toy.

“A grain of Sappia’s blood.”

This was the easiest thing to get on her list. The grains of red rice were plentiful in the field and the lambana took a moment to think about the mission that had been given to her. She did not know why her mistress wanted these diverse items, and the lambana had not known her mistress to be a great collector of oddities, but the lambana knew that it wasn’t her place to make judgments on the whims of her mistress.

“Soil from the birth of the world.”

In the beginning, there lived four beings on an island no larger than a hat. Nothing grew on this island, there were only those three beings and one bird. One day they sent the bird out across the waters and it returned with some earth, a piece of rattan and some fruit. The lambana knew that that soil would eventually become the earth that every being was standing on. She would have to go to the great god Melu to petition her mistress’ request. It took moments, then years, maybe even centuries. Time was not what it was in other places. In the end, the lambana got her request.

She returned triumphantly to her mistress’ side, clad in all the items she was sent to procure. Even getting one would have been a great accomplishment, but her mistress just took the items without giving the lambana a second glance.

“Good work, faithful servant,” said her mistress.

“I live to serve and I serve to live,” was the lambana’s reply.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Lambana myths and

“Asuang steals fire from Gugurang” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Myths. Eugenio. 2001.

“The First Coconut Tree and the Creation of Man” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Myths. Eugenio. 2001.

“The Rice Myth” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Myths. Eugenio. 2001.

“The Epic of Labaw Donggon.” in Philippine Folk Literature:The Epics. Eugenio. 2001.

“IN THE BEGINNING” Philippine Folklore Stories. Cole. 1916. http://www.sacred-texts.com/asia/pft/pft42.htm

Lambana illustration by Dyani Lao:
Website: www.dyanilao.com
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/dyanilaotattoos/?hl=en
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The soul is a very fragile thing.

Throughout life it is shaken. It can sense the world through a million different lenses. It speaks without voice, it can hear through the deepest silence, it can touch from mountains away. The body is but a pale reflection of what the soul can achieve.

A soul is a hungry creature. It craves more than it could ever hope to get. It quests for truth, it searches for beauty, it seeks out wonder, it longs for love. It forces you to feed its hunger through romance and revolution, through bitterness and burdens. The soul can never be satisfied, not in any life that is lived.

It breaks into a billion pieces in a trillion ways each lifetime. Every moment shifts the soul into a spectrum of possibilities. Will your soul be set off with a spark? Will it reflect the beauty you possess? Will you lose your soul to the world’s problems? Will you bare your naked soul to the world? Will your soul need to be healed? Will your soul seek its missing piece? Will your soul be the truth of who you are?

Life bleeds the soul dry. Life only brings suffering to the soul, covering it in layers upon layers of torment and pain. The soul was never made for the earth, it can only know true peace in the heavens.

Life will end as it inevitably does and it is only then that the soul can finally be secure. It will rest in its jar, among countless others like it and it will know freedom from the pain it so desperately ran from in life. In the shadow of its guardian the soul can breathe like it never could. Under the watchful gaze of a thousand eyes, it can forget the pain and the burden and the hunger.

The soul will be safe.

Forever.

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Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by “Origin of This World (Maranao)” in Philippine Folk Literature: The Myths. Eugenio. 2001.

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

Colors by Alexa Garde
Website: Lexa.us

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