*Note this story is in Cuyonon

Agasilabong sa angin ang paamot maintras ingboboat i’ ang padis nga pakpakan ang andang katengdanan. Agoroli ren ang mga agaloksa, agpamatbat den i’ mga pangadi ang imam, inglebeng den sa logta ang lawas apang mi isarang bagay pa ang dapat boaten.

Mabedlay andang obra, ang kamatayen pirming katabid sa kaboi. Kondan kita ingboat i’ ang Makagagaem. Ara sanda ren ipapalaman sa pilosopiang tiolohikal. Dapat boaten nanda andang katengdanan, ig kong tapos don ngani dato, boboaten nanda oman tegka maglongbos don ang adlaw ‘ang pagokom.
Akapakon sanda ren sa lebengan ‘ang mga pobri ig mga adi, sa mga mi pagtoo ig sa ara. Doto nanda nasapoan ang karoyaan i’ tao. Kong ara ang tulkin indi enged kasasabat ang minatay apang kaisan maski mi tulkin den mi iba nga indi pa ra maliag agsabat.

Nakakita sanda ren i’ mga rilihiosong mga tao nga ingpapasipalan tenged sa andang mga kakorangan ig agtaw sanda ren i’ langitneng katorog para sa mga tao nga mategas ang leba sa paneleng ‘ang ibang tao.

Sakep nanda ang pagtoo ig kamatayen. Dengan sandang agatindeg sa kilid ‘ang minatay nga ingpapatogpoan i’ ang silot ‘ang Makagagaem.
Dia maman ang kabegatan nga papasanen nanda sa maayad nga leba.
Kong parapit sanda ren ngani sa lebengan, ang minatay agamata ig agabangon. Agpakiman i’ mga pangotana ang padis ig ara ipedped sa pagsabat ang minatay.

Ingostoan sanda sa anang sabat. Pagkatapos dadi, ingpadayon nanda ren ang minatay sa anang pagparanarien. Ara iboay ingtawag sanda reman.
Dadi’ na, ang lebengan ara masiadong kaministirang logta nga itampek. Sayod sanda nga matamang loa ang agtororo para sa taong dia apang matenten sanda pa ra sa andang katengdanan.

Agbangon ang minatay ig agatobang sa mga imbistigador i’ ang Makagagaem.
Agpakiman sanda ren i’ andang mga pangotana ig agalaem sanda ostong sabat andang dadawaten. Kong sosogon, boboaten nanda andang katengdanan. Apang ara sanda ra iaangot nga tomanen ang bet ‘ang Makagagaem labi pa sa mga taong tolad kanana.

Bago na sabaten andang mga pakiman, agpakiman tana anay i’ anang pangotana:

“Ayamo ingbayan ‘ang Makagagaem nga matabo kanaken dia?”
Ara isabat ang mga anghil. Ara sanda sa logar para maglimeg para sa Makagagaem. Dian sanda para boaten andang katengdanan, ara reng iba pa. Agpakiman sanda oman i’ mga pangotana ig ingsabat da ‘ang babai nga tolad da sa mga minatay nga mi pagtoo.

Ingsalan anda ang minatay nga babai sa anang langitneng pagkatorog ig agsaka sanda ren sa langit. Ingtawag sanda oman nga magtogdon sa logta para boaten andang katengdanan.

Dadi’ na, agabatok ang minatay. Ang minatay nga dia ara’ paggalang sa anang pagtoo ig ingtabonan na ang talinga sa tulkin. Ang erang i’ ang mga minatay aganingal sa anang lebengan piro ara mi saka bilog doto nga magatabang kanana. Dan ang bales i’ ang pagkaignoranti.

Agsaka sanda roman sa langit ig ingtawag roman sa logta. Ara sanda itatakes andang obra basi sa oras, ay kapaiwan da ang oras sa mga katolad kananda?
Sa paglebas ‘ang tanan, adedemdeman nanda ang kada kalag, ang kada isara nga agpadayon sa andang katorog tegka sa Adlaw ‘ang Pagokom ig ang kada isara nga agaantos i’ kakori sa impirno.

Ingaatobang nanda andang katengdanan kong anono ang oyon sa mga anghil.

Tanan para sa bet i’ ang Makagagaem.

—————————————————————————–

English Version

The air was thick with perfume as the winged pair went on with their duty.

The mourners had gone to their homes, the imam had recited the prayers, the body had been lowered to the grave, yet one more thing still had to be done.
Theirs was a tedious task, death was ever present with life. It was something to do with the Almighty’s design. They wouldn’t concern themselves with theological philosophy. They needed to do their duty, and when that was done, they would do their duty again, until the day of judgment had passed.
They had been to the graves of paupers and kings, of the faithful and the faithless and it was there they learned of humanity’s frailness. Without the tulkin the dead would not be able to answer them, and even with the tulkin there were those that refused to answer their questions.

They had seen seemingly pious men and women tortured for their failures and they had given blessed sleep to those that others would deem hard hearted.

Faith and death were their domains. Together they would stand beside the recently passed and rain the Almighty’s judgment upon them.
It was a burden they were both willing to bear.

As they approached the grave the dead awoke and took its position. The pair asked their questions and the dead replied without hesitation.

The pair was satisfied with his answer. They let the dead continue his rest and it was not long before they were called again.

This time the grave didn’t need much earth to cover it. They could tell that many tears were shed for this one, but they were steadfast in their duty.
The dead rose and faced the Almighty’s investigators.

They asked their questions and hoped that they would receive the proper answers. If they were asked, they would do their duty, but they took no pleasure in pursuing the Almighty’s will, especially on one such as this.
Before she would answer their questions, she asked them one of her own:
“Why would the Almighty let this happen to me?”

The angels would not answer her. It was not their place to speak for the Almighty. They were there to do their duty and nothing more. They asked their questions again and she answered them, as one that died in the faith.
They left her with blessed sleep and ascended into heaven. Again, they were called down onto earth to do their duty.

This time they were met with hostility. The dead did not respect his faith in life and closed his ears during the tulkin. The screams of the dead echoed in his grave, but there was no one there to help him. Such was the price of ignorance.

Again they ascended and again they were called down. They did not measure their duty in time, for what was time to those such as them?

Through it all they remembered each soul, each one that continued their sleep until the day of judgment and each one that faced tortures in the realms of hell.

They faced their duty as angels should.

All for the will of the Almighty.
————————–————————–————————–————
*The Tulkin is the set of special instructions in preparation for the dead’s investigation toward his or her final judgment.

*Cuyonon is a regional Visayan language spoken on the coast of Palawan, and the Cuyo Islands in the Philippines.

Written by Karl GaverzaCuyonon

Translation provided by Ryan D. Ibañez

Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Ryan D. Ibañez

Story inspired by the descriptions in Munabi. Narrated by Mullung.Voices from Sulu A Collection of Tausug Oral Traditions. Rixhon (ed). 2010.

Nakir Illustration by emirajujuIG: https://www.instagram.com/emirajuju/

The air was thick with perfume as the winged pair went on with their duty. The mourners had gone to their homes, the imam had recited the prayers, the body had been lowered to the grave, yet one more thing still had to be done.

Theirs was a tedious task, death was ever present with life. It was something to do with the Almighty’s design. They wouldn’t concern themselves with theological philosophy. They needed to do their duty, and when that was done, they would do their duty again, until the day of judgment had passed.

They had been to the graves of paupers and kings, of the faithful and the faithless and it was there they learned of humanity’s frailness. Without the tulkin the dead would not be able to answer them, and even with the tulkin there were those that refused to answer their questions.

They had seen seemingly pious men and women tortured for their failures and they had given blessed sleep to those that others would deem hard of heart.

Faith and death were their domains. Together they would stand beside the recently passed and rain the Almighty’s judgment upon them.

It was a burden they were both willing to bear.

As they approached the grave the dead awoke and took its position. The pair asked their questions and the dead replied without hesitation.

The pair was satisfied with his answer. They let the dead continue his rest and it was not long before they were called again.

This time the grave didn’t need much earth to cover it. They could tell that many tears were shed for this one, but they were steadfast in their duty.

The dead rose and faced the Almighty’s investigators.

They asked their questions and hoped that they would receive the proper answers. If they were asked, they would do their duty, but they took no pleasure in pursuing the Almighty’s will, especially on one such as this.

Before she would answer their questions, she asked them one of her own:

“Why would the Almighty let this happen to me?”

The angels would not answer her. It was not their place to speak for the Almighty. They were there to do their duty and nothing more. They asked their questions again and she answered them, as one that died in the faith.

They left her with blessed sleep and ascended into heaven. Again, they were called down onto earth to do their duty.
This time they were met with hostility. The dead did not respect his faith in life and closed his ears during the tulkin. The screams of the dead echoed in his grave, but there was no one there to help him. Such was the price of ignorance.

Again they ascended and again they were called down. They did not measure their duty in time, for what was time to those such as them?

Through it all they remembered each soul, each one that continued their sleep until the day of judgment and each one that faced tortures in the realms of hell.

They faced their duty as angels should.

All for the will of the Almighty.

*The Tulkin the set of special instructions in preparation for the dead’s investigation toward his or her final judgement

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the descriptions in Munabi. Narrated by Mullung.Voices from Sulu A Collection of Tausug Oral Traditions. Rixhon (ed). 2010.

Nakir Illustration by emirajuju
IG: https://www.instagram.com/emirajuju/

Fatima’ clutched her hijab tight. The waiting was starting to get to her. She knew she would get scolded by her mother if she kept fidgeting, so she tried to think of other things to calm her mind.

It had only been a few hours since Munabi had passed and they were preparing his body with the rituals. His was a peaceful death. He had been sick for a long time and God the merciful had finally decided it was time for him to go to the hereafter.

Fatima’ quietly thought to herself about the five rituals observed after death. * She wondered if the same would be done to her when she passed, though she brushed those thoughts aside. Fatima’ reminded herself that she was too young to think about death. All things would come in their time and she hoped that hers would be far into the future.

They were starting with the ligu’un siyam, the nine bathings. The imam said that this was to cleanse the nine bodily orifices of all dirt and polluting matter. “At least the dead will be clean when they go to heaven,” Fatima’ smiled at the thought.

Tradition was important to her, as it was with everyone in her village. Uncomfortable as she was with the idea of death, there were at least some things that she could appreciate in the ceremonies.

————————–————————–————————–——-

“I order you to get the dead.” A booming voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“We will go and investigate, as is our duty.” Wings stretched out and headed across the infinite.

Two figures raced like shooting stars from the firmament, both headed towards the earth.

————————–————————–————————–————-
It was time for the sa’putun, where the dead would be wrapped in a single seamless white cloth. Fatima’ was still unsettled. Soon it would be the sambahayang, the recitation of prayers. She would be with the procession since Munabi was a relative of hers.

She never saw him much while he was alive, one regret that would stay with her throughout the day. They were cousins, but he was much older and there was nothing that connected them other than blood. Fatima’ told herself that she would pray for him, it was the least she could do.

Throughout the sambahayang Fatima’ stayed alert. She listened intently to the imam’s words and breathed in the perfume. Munabi’s mother was crying a few feet away from Fatima’ and this made thoughts of the future weigh heavy on the young girls mind.

“If I died tomorrow, what would happen?” Fatima’ thought.
Would my friends cry for me as Munabi’s mother did? What would happen to the people I would leave behind? Would they still think of me?

Fatima’ shook off the thoughts plaguing her mind. She concentrated on the ritual happening before her. It was time for the hikibul, the lowering of the dead into the grave itself. Her father told her that the hole needed to be dug with a niche running north to south so the body would be facing Mecca, as you would in prayer.

As the sun started to set and the imam recited the teachings of Islam, Fatima’ wondered if this would be the way she would be ushered into the afterlife. She imagined her future would be with a family of her own. They would be feeling the pain of loss, yes, but also the happiness of having had a life with her.

She thought to what her husband would be like. Fatima’ wished he would be a kind man and a good father to their children. She thought of what she might name them, if her firstborn was a boy she wanted to name him Maduh, after her grandfather and she hadn’t yet decided a name if she was a girl.

There would still be time for her to live her life, she had to remind herself. For now, it was time to remember Munabi’s.

The grave was closed and the imam threw a handful of soil onto the boards, all the people did the same and when it was Fatima’s turn she lingered for a moment. Her eyes looked not at the grave but at the people surrounding it.

She could see faces of pain and sadness, devastated by a loss they would bear their whole lives. She saw quiet faces locked in contemplation, thinking about deaths long passed or, like herself, deaths yet to come. She could also see those few whose brows were heavy with questions.

Fatima’ breathed in deep and threw her handful of dirt on the grave. In the end no one will need more than the space of a small wooden box.

“Pray in death as you would in life,” her thoughts were louder now as silence filled the burial procession, only broken by one voice.

It was time for the tulkin, preparation of the dead’s investigation towards their final judgment. Abdulla was the man under whose direction the grave was dug, and thus the responsibility fell to him. Fatima’ craned her neck to give a better view of him whispering into the ear of the dead.

This part was to give the dead instructions to prepare the dead for their visit with the investigators of God. The whispers were the answers to the questions that will be asked of the dead. Fatima’ knew the answers, like any faithful person should, but she couldn’t help repeating the questions in her own head.

“Who is your God?”

“Who is your prophet?”

“What is your religion?”

“In what direction should you pray?”

“Who is your guide?”

“Who are your brothers?”

She could feel her body shiver when she remembered that wrong answers to these questions would result in torture in the tomb as well as more tortures in hell. But she didn’t need to worry, Munabi was a pious man, she reminded herself. He would be able to answer the questions, even without the need for preparation.

Fatima’ was startled away from her thoughts when her mother gripped her arm. “It is time to go, inda.”

The sun bathed the fields in a brick red glow and Fatima’ and the rest of the procession returned to their homes to ruminate.

Fatima’ tried to chase her chaotic thoughts. She didn’t know why Munabi’s death affected her so much, maybe it was a sign that everyone was growing older. She would probably have to hear the rituals in the future, maybe sooner rather than later.

She curled herself onto her bed. She sighed as she carried these thoughts into the land of dreams.

What Fatima’ didn’t know was that at that moment, two figures approached Munabi’s grave, ready to carry out their mission.

————————–————————–——————-

*In rural Jolo there are five rituals observed immediately after death.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Story inspired by the descriptions in Munabi. Narrated by Mullung.Voices from Sulu A Collection of Tausug Oral Traditions. Rixhon (ed). 2010.

Munkal Illustration by emirajuju
IG: https://www.instagram.com/emirajuju/