*Note this story is in Tagalog

Kahit na masakit ang kaniyang likod, sinabayan pa ng  pamamaga ng kaniyang paa ay nakapagbalik-balik pa rin siya sa banyo. Sa lahat ng kaniyang naranasan, ni hindi siya kailan man nagreklamo.

Nasa ikapitong buwan na si Clara sa kaniyang pagbubuntis at ngayon ay  naka-bed rest. Ang kaniyang asawa na si Angelo, hindi muna pumasok sa trabaho, pinaghahanda siya ng kaniyang almusal.

Sa tabi ng kaniyang higaan, tumunog bigla ang kaniyang telepono.

“Hello?”

Sa kabilang linya narinig niya ang namamaos na boses ng isang babaeng matanda.

“Hello, si Clara Campos po ito, sino po sila?”

“Ikaw ba yung buntis na nakatira sa Zaragosa Street?”

“Sino po sila? Pa’no niyo po nakuha ang numerong ito?”

“Huwag kang lalabas ng inyong bahay! Nasa peligro ka!”

“Prank call ba ‘to? Hindi nakakatuwa ah!”

“Para ito sa kapakanan ng nasa iyong sinapupunan! Kailangan mong makinig sa akin!

Maari namang ibaba ni Clara ang telepono. Maari naman niyang hindi na pansinin ang pinagsasabi ng nasa kabilang linya at magpatuloy sa pangkaraniwan niyang ginagawa araw-araw. Pero nagbabago ang mga bagay-bagay kapag ikaw ay magiging isang ina. Kahit gaano pa ito kakaiba, kung may dulot naman ito sa iyong anak, gagawin mo ito. Walang kahit na anong tanong.

“Ano po bang nais mong sabihin?” Tumataas na ang tono ng boses ni Clara. “Ano pong koneksyon nito sa aking baby?”

“Makinig ka!”

Sa kalagitnaan ng sasabihin nito, ay yumakap ang katahimikan. Ramdam ni Clara ang pintig ng kaniyang puso dulot ng kaba.

“May dumadating tuwing gabi. Kapag may narinig kang tunog na palapit sa inyo. Magtaklob ka. Magtabi ka ng patalim at kalamansi bilang proteksyon sa kasamaan nito. Huwag magpakasigurado na ligtas ka dahil nasa bahay ka. Kaya nitong pumasok sa mga naiwang bukas na bintana kahit pa sa mga  kasulok-sulukan ng inyong mga dinging para lamang sa iyong nasa sinapupunan.

“Ano po ito?” Saka darating para sa aking baby?”

Sa isang saglit ay nagkaroon ng mahabang katahimikan. Yinakap ng kaba si Clara na nagdulot ng kakaibang pakiramdam.

“Maghanda kayo. Darating ang tiktik!”

At biglang binaba nito ang tawag.

Matapos ang ilang minuto, pumasok si Angelo para bigyan ng almusal si Clara. Ngunit napansin nito ang ekspresyon ng kaniyang asawa. “Ayos ka lang ba, sweetheart? Para kang nakakita ng multo ah!”

“Wala, wala ito.”

Hindi niya maisip kung bakit siya nagsinungaling sa kaniyang asawa. Siguro ay nahiya siya sa kaniyang sarili na may bahagi sa kaniyang puso na naniniwala sa sinabi ng tumawag na matanda. Pero kahit ayaw niyang aminin, napansin niya ang pagyakap ng kaniyang mga kamay sa kaniyang tyan.

“Darating daw mamayang gabi.”

“Huh? Ano ‘yon, sweetheart?”

“Wala, Gelo. May naisip lang ako bigla.”

“Ahh, pero huwag ka ngang masyadong mag-aalala. Nakasasama ‘yan sa ating baby.”

“Oo, alam ko. Susubukan kong hindi masyadong mag-alala. Salamat pala sa almusal.”

“Sige na, kumain ka na. Maglilinis pa ako ng kusina.”

“Okey babe.”

Nawalan ng ganang kumain si Clara, ngunit kailangan niyang magpalakas para sa kaniyang baby. Kailangang niyang protektahan ang kaniyang baby. Ito ang pinakamahalaga para sa kaniya.

Sumapit na ang dilim. Natulog na si Clara.

Mag-isa lamang siya sa kaniyang kuwarto. At tanging mahinang tunog lamang ang naririnig niya.

Tik-Tik-Tik!

Parang may mali sa hangin. Naging maalinsangan sa buong kuwarto. Inikot niya ang kaniyang tingin sakaling may makitang bagay na para maipagtanggol ang sarili. Bagay na magbibigay ng kapanatagan sa kaniya.

Sa gilid  ng kaniyang higaan, agad-agad niyang kinuha ang nakatabing kutsilyo.

Lumipas ang ilang minuto, na naging oras, at patuloy pa rin ang pagiging alerto ni Clara. Tila naghihintay ng kung anong sunod na mangyayari.

Ramdam ni Clara ang pagod at hapo ngunit hindi ito nagging alintana sa kaniya upang gumalaw o magbago ng posisyon. Hanggat sa may napansin siyang gumagalaw sa madilim na sulok.

Isang manipis na linyang kulay pula. Parang isang laso. Bigla itong yumakap nang mahigpit sa kaniyang hita. Ramdam niya ang lamig na tumatagos hanggang sa kaniyang mga buto.

Mahigpit niyang hinawakan ang kutsilyo sabay na nilaslas ang pulang linyang yumayakap sa kaniyang hita. Pagkatapos ay narinig ang napakalakas, paimpit na tila mula sa gutom na nilalang  na ni minsa ay hindi nabuhay sa mundong ibabaw.

Pagkatapos ay nakita niya ang tunay na katauhan ng linyang pula. Tila mas kasuklam-suklam na bersyon ni Frakenstein. Ang  katawan nito ay katawan ng tao at katawan ng ibon na pinagsama.  Tumutulo sa katawan nito ang mga dugo at ang mga mata nito ay punong-puno ng galit na nakatitig sa kaniya.

Panaginip lang pala.

Basang-basa ng pawis ang kaniyang unan. Natanong si Angelo kung ayos lang siya. Binalewala niya lang ang tanong. Sinabi na lang niya na bahagi lang ito ng kaniyang pagbubuntis.

Tumayo siya upang tumungo sa kusina para uminom. Kinulit ulit siya ni Angelo at sinabing siya na ang kukuha. Ngunit hindi nagpatinig si Clara. Kayang-kaya naman daw.

Alam ni Clara na tila kabaliwan ang mga nasa isip niya. Pero para sa kasiguraduhan, dali-dali niyang kinuha ang kutsilyo sa kusina.

=——————————-=

English Version

Her back aches, her feet are sore and she just went to the bathroom for the third time this past hour, but through it all she had never been more thankful for the pain.

It was the seventh month of her pregnancy and Clara was on bedrest. Her husband, Angelo, had taken the day off work and was busy making her breakfast.

By the bedside the phone rang.

“Hello?”

It was the raspy voice of a woman, unfamiliar to Clara.

“Hello, this is Clara Campos, who is this?”

“Is this the pregnant woman that lives on Zaragosa street?”

“Who is this? How did you get this number?”

“Do not go outside your house! You’re in terrible danger!”

“Is this a prank call?! It’s not funny!”

“It’s for your baby! You have to listen to me!”

Clara should have put the phone down. She should have ignored whoever it was on the phone and continued on with her day. But things change when you’re about to become a mother. No matter how crazy things might seem, if there’s even the tiniest chance of helping your baby, you do it. No questions asked.

“What are you talking about?” Clara’s tone was sharp. “What does this have to do with my baby.”

“Listen to me!” There was a pause and, in the silence, Clara could feel her heartbeat echo in her bones.

“It comes in the night. Once you hear the sounds coming, head for cover. Keep a knife and kalamansi around you to protect yourself from its evil. Do not think that just because you are in your home you are safe. It can creep in through unseen corners and open windows and it will come for your baby!”

“What is it? What will come for my baby?!”

There was another long pause and Clara felt the anticipation seep into her skin, making it tingle.

“The tiktik will come for you. Be prepared.”

And the line went dead.

It was a few minutes before Angelo came in and gave Clara breakfast in bed. He noticed the look on her face and asked,

“What’s wrong sweetheart? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“It’s nothing. Nothing at all.”

She didn’t know why she lied to her husband. Part of her was ashamed for thinking that a crazy phone call had any effect on her, but she noticed that she was holding her stomach tight.

“It comes in the night.”

“What was that sweetheart?”

“Nothing, Gelo, just thinking about something.”

“Well don’t think too much. Worrying can’t be good for the baby.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll try not to stress myself out. Thank you for breakfast.”

“Now go eat, I’ll clean up in the kitchen.”

“Okay babe.”

Clara could feel her appetite slipping away, but she fought through it. She needed to think of the baby.

It was the only thing that mattered.

That night, Clara drifted off into a dream.

She was in her bedroom and Angelo was nowhere to be seen. She could hear a soft sound throughout the room.

Tik-Tik-Tik-Tik

There was something wrong in the air, an aura of heaviness that permeated the entire room. She looked around to see if there was anything she could use to defend herself, something that would make her feel safe.

By her bedside there was a knife and she grabbed it readily before anything could happen.

Minutes passed, maybe hours and Clara sat alert on her bed, waiting.

Her eyelids felt heavy and tiredness enveloped her body, but she would not move from her position. And in the darkness, she could notice something moving.

It was a thin, red line, almost like a ribbon. It twisted around her leg and she could feel it like ice coursing through her veins.

She took the knife and slashed at the red line and was greeted with an inhuman scream, a loud, guttural ululation that didn’t belong in this world.

And then she saw it. It was as if a bird and a man had been twisted together in some Frankenstein like abomination. Drops of red were falling from its mouth and its eyes burned with fury.

And then she awoke.

Her pillow was soaked with a cold sweat and Angelo asked her if she was okay. Clara brushed it off, saying it was just the pregnancy and hopefully she would brush it off and get more rest later.

She got up and said she was going to get a glass of water, telling Angelo she could get it herself this time.

Clara went to the kitchen and grabbed the first knife she saw and remembered, if there’s even a slightest chance, you take it.

No matter how crazy it may seem.

*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 Kenn Empuesto
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Kenn Empuesto

Story inspired by the Tiktik descriptions from Western Visayas

Tiktik Illustration by Ian Sagun
FB: Ian Sagun Art​
Instagram: @iansagunart

The post Tiktik – Tagalog Translation appeared first on Philippine Spirits.

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Walang “on the job training” sa trabaho ko. Kailangan mo lang makisama, at huwag hayaang lamunin ka ng takot.

Nasaan na ba ako?

Oo nga pala, nasa karanasan ko pagtatrabaho sa sementeryo.

Halos 40 taon na ang lumipas ng umalis ako sa Mindanao para sa magandang bukas na ng aking mga  anak. Si Carmen at Berto.

Alam mo naming nakapagtapos sila ng kolehiyo di ‘ba? Lagi nila akong pinipilit na umalis na sa aking trabaho, sa iba na lang daw. Basta malayo sa mga nitso’t buto, lalo na noong namatay ang kanilang ama, naku! Pero hindi ko nakikita ang sarili ko na umalis sa lugar na ito.

Doon ako naglagi, doon sa museleo na kulay asul.

Naging hilig ko na ang paliguan ng asul na pintura ang mga libingan. Tignan mo, masarap sa mata tignan ang  itsura ng libingan, kalmado.

Ano nga? Ay, pasensya na! Iniiba ko na naman ang usapan, kaming mga matatanda ay ganito na talaga madalas.

Ayon, na naniniwala ba ko sa mga multo?

Hindi mo naman kailangang maging baliw para maniwala!

Noong unang dating naming dito, ginigising kami ng mga tunog mula sa kadena tuwing alas tres, aba’y wala namang mga tao.

Yung asawa kong ‘yon, masayahin at mahilig uminom.

Isang beses sa kaniyang kalasingan, kumuha siya ng bungo at sinama niya sa paglilibot sa buong sementeryo. Nang gabing din iyon, nagpakita sa kaniya ang kaluluwa. Dali-dali akong pumunta sa kinaroroonan niya, pero wala namang ibang tao doon. Pagkatapos noon, nagkasakit siya. Syempre isa lang ang magpapagaling sa kaniya, ang paghingi ng tawad. Kaya ako’y nag-alay sa multo para sa paghingi ng tawad.

Mabisa iyon, ng araw din iyon ay gumaling ang aking asawa!

Natatawa na lang ako kapag naalala iyon.

Nawala na naman ba ‘ko sa usapan natin?

Sige na nga, sasabihin ko na sa iyo.

Hindi ko talaga, plinano na magtagal dito. Ang asawa ko talaga ang nangangalaga sa mga libingan  bago pa ako dumating galing probinsya.

May mga naririnig na akong kuwento galing sa mga lolo at lola ko. Na may mga nilalang na naniniwalang hindi dapat nirerespeto ang mga yumao.

Lalo na kung hindi sila gutom.

Sa matagal na pagtatrabaho ko rito, may iilan din naman akong nakita.

Mayroon d’yan na kayang pasabugin ang tyan ng patay sa pamamagitan lang ng paghawak sa kabaong.

Kaya lagi kong pinapaalalahanan yung mga pamilya na mag-iwan ng bukas na ilaw. Nakatutulong yan laban sa mga   ganung nilalang.

Yung mga nakalibing dito, iba-iba iyan ng karanasan. Mayroon diyan katulad sa sitwasyon ko, umalis sa sariling bayan. Kaya lagi kong nirerespeto kung ano man ang mga tradisyon nila.

Katulad ng libingan doon.

Ay, doon sa bandang kaliwa.

Tama, ayun nga.

Napansin mo ba yung malaking piraso ng metal sa libingan?  Pinakiusap ‘yan ng pamilya niyan na dapat lagi iyan nandyan.

Hindi nila sinabi kung bakit, hindi rin naman ako nagtanong kung bakit. Siguro kailangan talaga iyon. Bilang proteksyon sa mga mahal mo sa buhay kahit na sila ay patay na.

Kaya ngayon, magsisimula na ako.

Ang pinakanakakainis sa mga mga multong ito, iyon yung mga hindi marunong mag-isip nang mabuti. Sa ibang lugar, ang tawag sa kanila ay wirwir. Ako ang tawag ko sa kanila ay mga buwisit.

Binabantayan ko lagi yung mga bagong libing tuwing gabi. Para lang masigurado na hindi nila, oo nila dahil grupo-grupo sila kung pumunta, hukuyin ang libingan at kainin ang patay.

Noon e, kayang-kaya ko pa. Pero ngayong tumatanda na ako ay pinapahirapan na ako ng mga buto ko.

Dumating na nga sa puntong, gusto ko ng sumuko.

Pero may tumulong sa akin.

Pinapalibutan na ng mga wirwir yung bagong libingan.

Nang marinig ko ang tunog ng isang saksopon.

At parang kidlat, itong sementeryo ay napuno ng iba’t ibang instrumento. Hawak-hawak ito ng mga kahindik-hindik na mga nilalang.

Pero ng binuka nila ang kanilang mga bibig upang tumugtog, aba! Napapasayaw ako.

Hindi ko alam kung sa henereasyon niyo ngayon e alam niyo ang tunay na tunog ng Jazz. Pero sa mga panahong ‘yon, narinig ko.

Namangha ako. Tahimik akong nakatayo ng biglang may tumapik sa akin.  Matangkad na  Amerikano. Pumalakpak siya at malakas na sinabing “Let’s make more lovely music for our audience!”

Doon ko lang napansin na tumigil na pala sa paghuhukay ng libangan yung mga wirwir. Sumasayaw na ito sa saliw ng banda. May nakita akong trumpeta, trombonyo, tambol, mayroon pa nga atang piyano na gawa sa buto.

Hindi ko na maalala ang mga sumunod na nangyari. Parang sinabi pa nga ng Amerikano na kailangan pa niya ng miyembro para makompleto ang tunog na nais nito. Ano ibig niyang sabihin? Ay, hindi ko alam!

Siguro, yung Amerikano at kaniyang banda ay nandyan lang. Napapasayaw sa mga wirwir.

=————————————————–=

English Version

There’s no “on the job training” for what I do. You just have to adapt and not take let the fear overtake you.

Now where was I?

Oh yes, my experiences in the Cemetery.

Nearly 40 years ago I left Mindanao to search for a better life, it was for my children, you see.

Carmen and Berto. You know they both finished college? They kept (and keep) trying to get me to move somewhere else, away from the bones and coffins, especially after their father died. But I can’t imagine leaving this place.

I stay in a small mausoleum over there by the blue one.

My favorite thing to do is giving the tombs a fresh coat of paint, and well, I think blue is really calming.

Yes? Oh I’m sorry! I keep changing the topic, I get that way sometimes. Most people do when they’re my age.

Do I believe in ghosts?

Well you would have to be crazy not to!

The first time I arrived from the province my husband and I would wake up at 3 in the morning to the sound of chains. No one was there of course. No person, at least.

My husband was a happy man that also liked to drink a lot.

One time he played with a skull and carried it around the cemetery.

That night the ghost showed itself to him. I rushed to where he was, of course, but there was nothing there. Then he got really sick. I did the only thing I could think of and asked for forgiveness, and gave an offering to the spirit.

It worked and my husband managed to get better within the day.

Those were good times, me and him and the graves.

I got off topic again, didn’t I?

Alright, let me tell you about it.

I never planned to be here for long. My husband took care of the graves before I came here from the province.

There were stories I knew from my lolos and lolas. Creatures that didn’t think that the dead were something to be respected.

Not if they were hungry.

In my years I’ve come across a few kinds.

There were the ones that would make a corpse’s belly bust just by touching the coffin.

I’d always tell the families at the wake to leave bright lights. That always helped against these creatures.

The dead buried here come from all walks of life. Some of them travelling far from their roots like I did. I always made sure to respect their traditions.

Like the grave over there.

No, the one to the left.

Yes, that one.

If you look closely you can see a big piece of metal on the grave. The family requested that it be on there at all times.

I didn’t ask, and they didn’t tell. It was just something that had to be done. To protect your loved one even after they passed.

And now I get to my story.

The most aggravating of these spirits were the ones that were too stupid to know better. In some places they called them the wirwir. I just called them annoying.

Every night after a new coffin was buried, I would have to keep watch to make sure they (yes they travel in packs) keep from digging through the grave and eating the body.

It was tolerable when I was younger, but these old bones ache.

There was a point where I didn’t think I could handle it anymore.

But on one strange night I had help.

The wirwir were clumped together around the newly set grave

Then I heard the saxophones.

In a flash the cemetery was filled with instruments.

Grotesque creatures of all shapes and sizes opened their mouths.

And it made me want to dance.

I don’t know if you young people know what real jazz sounds like, but it was there.

I stood silent, overwhelmed by what I was seeing, then someone tapped my shoulder.

It was a tall American (I could tell by his accent). He was dressed like he just stepped out of a movie.

He clapped his hands and shouted to the creatures, “Let’s make more lovely music for our audience!”

Then I noticed the wirwir were joining in. They had stopped digging for their next meal and were dancing to the beat of the bone-drums. I saw trumpets, trombones, bass and even a piano made of polished white bone.

I don’t remember much after that. I think the American said he needed more members to make the sound complete. What that meant I didn’t know.

I’d like to think that the American and his band are still out there somewhere.

Giving the ghouls the time of their lives.

=——————————————————————-=

*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 Kenn Empuesto
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Translation Copyright © Kenn Empuesto

Inspired by the Wirwir description in Vanoverbergh, Morice. (1938). “The Isneg Life Cycle II: Marriage, Death, and Burial.” PCAC 3 (3)

Wirwir Illustration by Ethan of @Mangkukulang

FB:@Mangkukulang

IG:@Mangkukulang

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