*Note this story is in Ilocano

Bayat ti pannakaidisso ti daton iti baba ti kayo, inted ti maysa a naulimek nga espiritu ti bendisionna.

Rimkuas ti naidumduma a pigsa ti agtutubo ket innalana ti pagan-anupna a pika tapno agrubbuat a mapan iti kabakiran.

Nangted ti bendision ti espiritu, nagtung-ed  kas pananganamongna agingga a saanen a makita ti agtutubo.

Idi metten a nagampayag  ti maysa a taripnong dagiti espiritu nga agturong iti kayo.

“Pada a bakayauwan, mabalin kadi ti makisarita kenka?” Nagallangugan ti koro dagiti espiritu.

Nagtung-ed ti naulimek nga espiritu ket nagampayag a nagturong  iti abay ti kayo.

“Intedmo kadaytoy nga agtutubo dagiti bendision iti adun nga agsapa.  Awan pay met   laeng ti natiliwanna,” kinuna ti maysa kadagiti padana nga espiritu.

“Dina pay unay ammo a biruken ti anupenna, nakitak a namimpito a nanglikmut iti maysa a bato sakbay a napanunotna a pinanawanen ti simsimadanna,” insaoang ti maysa nga espiritu.

Nagsao met ti sabali pay nga espiritu, “Kadagupan ti  amin nga aganup ditoy isu ti kakapsutan. Nakitak a pinadasna a pikaen ti baboy idi kalman ngem ti kayo ti natiruanna… namindua.”

Ket nagkatawa dagiti espiritu (wenno kas kaarngi  ti  panagkatawa dagiti espiritu).

“Awan ti naisangsangayan iti daytoy nga agtutubo,” ti pinagtutunosan dagiti espiritu ket impakaammoda iti kapatadanda ti dida pananganamong.

Iti daytoy simmungbat ti agmaymaysa nga espiritu. “Ad-adda pay a rason a tumulong tayo kaniana. Dagidiay sigud a napigsa ket saandan a kasapulan dagiti bendisiontayo. Daytoy a mangnganup ket sumarungkar iti kayok tunggal agrubbuat nga agturong iti kabakiran. Saan laeng a siak ti tratuenna  ti panagraem no di ket ti intero a daga. Ti natiliwna—-”

“—no adda masarakanna.” Inyallawat ti maysa nga espiritu.

“….Ti maanupanna ket kanayon a maidaton kadagiti espiritu, ta ammona a saan laeng nga isu ti  akinkukuana iti daga, kukuatayo amin a pagbibingayan.”

“Ammo  koman dayta dagiti tattao, ket no saanpay, maammuandanto babaen ti pungtottayo.”

“Ngem dikay kadi kaykayat ti makipagtrabaho kadagiti tattao tapno mariknada ti kinaragsak ti nakaparsuaan? Saan laeng a maipapan daytoy iti mangnganup no di pay ket ti amin a tattaona. Isuronanto ti kanta dagiti angin babaen kadagiti sanga, dagiti delikado a dalan nga agturong kadagiti kristal a karayan ken ti nalinaay a dignidad dagiti naulimek a kararag kadagiti didiosen ken espiritu.”

Nagari ti ulimek iti bunggoy dagiti espiritu bayat ti panangpanunotda dagiti sasao ti kapadada.

Ngem nagtakder ti maysa nga espiritu nga di umannugot.

“Dakami ti guardia ti panaganup! Babaen laeng iti pigsa a makitada ti pannakabalintayo! Datayo a napigsa ket ibinglaytayo ti pannakabalintayo kadagidiay natibker tapno maammuanto dagiti tattao ti tumakder! Bay-an a maparmek dagiti nakapuy ket ti darada sibugan dagiti kayo tayo.”

“Ti kayo a nasibugan iti dara saanto nga agsabong a kas iti mataripato. Dagidiay agkasapulan unay iti tulongtayo makitadanto dagiti bendisiontayo kas pammaneknek nga agbibiagtayo a kas maymaysa.”

Nagngilangil ti managduadua nga espiritu. “Aramidenyo ti masapul ket kitaenmi no ania ti mapasamak.” Ket iti kasta nagtayab nga immadayo.

Nagsasaruno a nagampayag dagiti espiritu tapno mangtedda ti bendision kadagiti mangnganup iti bukodda a sakup.

Ket nagallangugan dagiti sasao ti espiritu.

“Saan laeng nga isu ti agtagikua iti daga, kukua tay aming a pagbibingayan.”

=—————————–=

English Version

As the offering was set below the tree a silent spirit gave its blessing.

A sense of strength surged through the young man and he took his hunting spear to set out into the wilds.

The spirit that gave its blessing nodded in approval until the young man was out of sight.

It was then that a congregation of spirits floated towards the tree.

“Fellow bakayauwan, can we speak with you?” The chorus of spirits echoed.

The silent spirit nodded and floated beside the tree.

“You have given this young man blessings for many daybreaks now. He still hasn’t caught anything,” said one of the fellow spirits.

“He can barely track prey, I saw him go around the same rock seven times before he realized his quarry had left him behind,” A spirit intoned.

Another spirit chimed “Out of all those that hunt here he is the weakest. I saw him try to spear a boar yesterday and he hit a tree… twice”

And the spirits laughed (or as close to laughing as a spirit can get).

‘There is nothing special about this young man’ was the consensus of the spirits and they let their peer know of their disapproval.

To this the lone spirit answered “All the more reason to help him. Those that are already strong have no need for our blessings. This hunter has visited my tree every time he would set out to the forest. He treats not only me with respect but the entire land. His catch—-”

“—if he can find any.” A spirit interrupted.

“—His catch is always dedicated to the spirits, for he knows the land is not his alone, it is ours to share.”

“The humans should already know that, and if they don’t, they will know through our wrath.”

“But would you not rather work with the humans to let them feel nature’s bliss? It is not just about this hunter but also his entire people. He will teach the song of the winds through the branches, the delicate pathways that lead to crystal rivers and the quiet dignity of the hushed prayers to the gods and spirits.”

Silence fell among the host of spirits as they ruminated on their fellow’s words.

One spirit still stood unconvinced.

“We are the sentinels of the hunt! It is only through strength that they will see our power! We who are strong shall share our power with those that are strong then the humans will know to rise up! Let the weak fall and their blood water our trees.”

“A tree watered with blood will not blossom as one that is tended. Those that need our help the most will see our blessings as proof that we live as one.”

The doubtful spirit shook his head. “Do what you must and we shall see what will happen.” And thus it floated away.

One by one the spirits floated away to give blessings to hunters in their own domains.

And the words of the spirit resonated.

“The land is not his alone, it is ours to share.”

=————————————————————=

Illustration by Shiela Rae Co
IG: @naitinta

Inspired by the Bakayauwan description in Jocano, F. Landa. (1969). Outline of Philippine Mythology. Manila: Centro Escolar University Research and Development Center, p. 16.

*Note this story is in Waray

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Imo siguro kabubuwason, pero dire para saak.”

Tigda nagmingaw an palibot pero ginwakay gihapon sa mumbaki.

“Tangtanga iton,” sugad niya kan Aguihao.

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

“Sugara saak im istorya,” sugad sa mumbaki.

“Nagtikang an tanan sa kamatay saak asawa.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dire ini hiunong sa lamay hano?”

“Dire ngani.”

“Hala sige ipadayon im istorya.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Pero nadakpan ka sa mga Espiritu”

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

“Mangangawat ka ba kun nahibaro ka?”

“Oo. Kun para saak pamilya.”

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

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

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

“Dida ka la” sugad sa mumbaki.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tinugbos an mumbaki kapot-kapot an bukton ni Aguihao.

“Sa yana, kinahanglan ta manok.”

=—————————————=

English Version

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your destiny maybe, but not mine.”

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

“Take it off,” he commands Aguihao.

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

“Tell me your story,” said the mumbaki.

“It started with the death of my wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it is not.”

“Tell me the rest of your story.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And then the spirit caught you.”

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

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

“Yes. If only for my family.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mumbaki stands up and clutches Aguihao’s arm.

“For now, we will need a chicken.”

=——————————————————–=

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

**The chief mumbaki.

***An improvised chair constructed under the house.

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

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

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

Pili Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga

“Go away! You’re not my real mom!”

Sister Mariam tried as hard as she could to calm him down but she knew patience was her virtue. This would pass, as all things do.

It took half an hour and the child’s tears finally dried. He sat up and finished his dinner.

Sister sighed, another small battle won.

The child had no name, at least none that he would admit to.  He was found at the footsteps of the church one evening when the clouds were low and the moon shined through.

As Sister Mariam was finishing cleaning up the table a shriek reverberated through the hallways, coming from the main entrance.

“Hold this devil!” shouted Sister Sibil.

It was the child, of course it had to be the child.

“He was trying to climb the gate but we were able to stop him,” Sister Sibil explained.

The child had calmed down and seemed to have given up his escape plan.

Sister Sibil shot the child a withering gaze but Sister Mariam knew how to deal with her.

“Come on now, time for bed,” Sister Mariam said.

They left Sister Sibil and headed for the dormitory.

“You know you shouldn’t keep doing that.”

“…..”

“Now you’re quiet? After the day that you put us through?”
“You’re not…” the child whispered.

“Not your real mother, is that what you were going to say?”

The child turned his head away.

“If I was your mother you’d probably end up more behaved.”

“Don’t you dare say that about my mom! She took care of us!”

Sister Mariam’s eyebrow rose. “Us? You have brothers or sisters?”

The child tensed up.

“Oh well if you don’t want to talk about it then I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sister led the child to his bed and turned out the light.

So full of mystery, this child. She thought to herself.  But nothing that the good Lord can’t save.

=————————————————=

“Pssst!”

Ramil was groggy, he had spent the last few hours as king of his dreamland all to be woken up by a noise. To his surprise it was the no-named kid that they found a few days before.

“It’s past your bedtime, it’s past MY bedtime, let me sleep.”

But the kid would not let up.

“Pssst! Psssst!!”

Ramil sighed, his sleep was ruined anyway so he might as well see what was happening.

He felt the tug of the kid leading him to a corner of the dormitories. It looked like they weren’t alone either. Rows of orphans greeted them as the kid took his place in front.

“The sisters don’t want what’s best for you, they’re content with keeping you in this prison.”

“We’re prisoners?” A small voice came from the back.

“Yes!! Don’t you see we are all here because the sisters don’t want us to know real freedom! They feed us slop and gruel and make us pray all hours of the day just to keep us quiet!”

Ramil shook his head. He was old enough to know the type of person the kid was: Young and headstrong, the only story that mattered was his. But this would turn out different from all the other times.

“Stop! Don’t say another word.”

“Listen to me—–”

“How dare you! How dare you assume you know anything about us. The sisters give us meals to eat and a roof above our heads.”

“But the sisters give you nothing but—-”

“Before the sisters came this happened to me.”

Ramil unbuttoned his shirt to reveal a nasty scar on his right shoulder.

“And I was one of the lucky ones.”

Silence stilled around the orphans.

“Every one of us has a reason to be here and all of us can agree that we were way worse off than we are now with the sisters.”

The orphans nodded.

“If we leave who will protect us?”

“My mom will protect us, I know she will!”

“Your mom is just one person, how can she take care of all of us?”

“You’ve never met my mother then. Please, just listen to me.”

The orphans’ eyes settled on the child with no name.

The child regaled them with a tale all too familiar. How a small boy lost his only family and was left stranded in the jungle. He was lost, alone and hungry until his prayers were answered by the flap of golden wings.

“Your mom is an angel?!”

In tears, the child continued his story. About how the angel shielded him from the elements and taught him how to live with the land. About how he was never alone because there were other children she looked after. About how he felt truly loved and part of a family.

“If she was so great why are you here? You’re an orphan just like the rest of us.”

The child’s voice cracked and tears streamed down his face. He told of a fire that ravaged his home and how they had no choice but to run. How he ended up on the steps of the church as a last resort, begging them to help his mother.

They didn’t listen.

No one did.

=——————————————————————=

The child managed to convince a few other orphans to escape with him and to everyone’s surprise they made it out of the church grounds.

Ramil always wondered what happened to the kid with no name and his followers.

But he did hope.

That they found their mother.

=—————————————————————–=

Story inspired by Vanoverbergh, Morice. (1936). “The Isneg Life Cycle I: Birth, Education, and Daily Routine.” PCAC 3 (2):81-186, p. 98.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Laglagemin Illustration by Abe Joncel Guevara
FB: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008285862780

IG: @abe.art.ph

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your destiny maybe, but not mine.”

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

“Take it off,” he commands Aguihao. 

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

“Tell me your story,” said the mumbaki.

“It started with the death of my wife.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it is not.”

“Tell me the rest of your story.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And then the spirit caught you.”

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

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

“Yes. If only for my family.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mumbaki stands up and clutches Aguihao’s arm.

“For now, we will need a chicken.” 

——————————————————————————————————————

*Mumbaki/Mombaki are shamans in Ifugao culture.

**The chief mumbaki.

***An improvised chair constructed under the house.

Written by Karl Gaverza

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

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

Pili Illustration by Alvin Gasga

FB: The Art of Alvin Gasga