The ground she had trodden on sang to her in all its glory.

It had been like this ever since she could remember, as soon as she touched the earth with her bare skin she would know where and how it came to be.

Today her feet rested on the island of Panay.

It only took a moment for a torrent of senses to come grasping at her.

She could see the sky being covered by gigantic wings and the great hero that came up to the challenge.

She could feel the reverberation of the blows coming from both combatants.

She could hear echoes that reached great distances, of grit and determination on one side and a cacophony of feral gibbering on the other.

She could smell the stench of blood in the air.

She could taste his victory.

The sensations were more vivid this time, barely giving her room to rest. She gripped the soil in her hands and waited for another vision.

And the earth responded in kind.

The hero’s name was Dumalapdap, the monster, Ayutang.

Their fight took seven long months as their power and prowess seemed to be equal. But the hero was able to discover the weakness of the monster.

With his magic dagger called Daniwan, he struck with all his might, the armpit of Ayutang.

When it fell the earth opened and swallowed the bat-like creature whole.

The ground shifted.

The rocks in the area sank into the newly formed sea, but jutting out to the surface were two new islands, a symbol of the hero’s victory.

And thus, it was not only the island of Panay that reached its genesis but also of Negros.

She sighed and laid her weary head to rest.

Another story known, another day finished.

=——————————————–=

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the The Hinilawod. Clavel (1972)

Ayutang Illustration by Joel Bulagnir

*Note this story is in Cebuano

Sa makausa pa, nakig istorya kanako ang akong anino. Paniudto kadto, ug samtang nagluto ‘ko sa kusina, iya ‘kong gisuguan nga kuhaon ang kutsilyo, dayon dunggabon ang sirbidora nga mao’y mudawat sa order. Daghang pagpang-daot ang gihunghong sa akong anino bahin sa serbidora — nga sige kuno sya’g manglibak nga ako nabuang na, nga mao kini’y hinungdan nga gibiyaan ko sa akong trato, ug nga imposibleng naa’y mahigugma sa sama nako.

Nagpasidaan ko sa akong amo nga mouli na lang ko tungod kay naglain akong gibati. Inig kaabot sa apartment, kadiyot kong ning duaw sa bintana. Paminaw nako, tanang tawong miagi, tabis kaayong nagtan-aw sa ako. Wa na ko makaantos, nag impake ko aron mouli na lang sa Iloilo. Nabuang na ba kaha ko, sa pagtuong mapildi nako ang usa ka halimaw sa usa pa?

Sulod sa bus nga akong gisakyan pauli, ming sulti na usab ang anino — nga sayon ra kaayong lubaon ang drayber, dayon ibangga ang bus sa katagbong sakyanan. Wa nako tagda ang mga hunghong. Akong namatikdang nahadlok kini sa umaabot. Angay lang nga mahadlok kini.

Hapit na sa tungang gabi-i sa among pagkaabot sa munisipyo. Kinahanglang magdali. Ning dagan ko padulong sa basakan. Sigurado kong didto nako maabtan ang sigbin, kung asa niya gipatay ang akong igsoong babae. Saksi ‘ko sa pagpaak niya sa anino sa akong igsson adtong higayuna.

Nagka-dako ang hunghong sa akong anino samtang nagpaduol kami sa lugar. Nag-alingasa na kini; di na ko kahulat. Akong gigawas ang flashlight, dayon tutok sa akong  atbang. Sa wa pa magdugay, ako nang nasimhutan ang sigbin — sa nagsagol nga baho sa nadunot nga unod ug napaig nga panit. Kini ang baho sa akong kalingkawasan.

Arang kabangis sa sigbin. Gi-angil niya ang iyang mga pangil, dayon pa-dasmag nga ninglabay sa akong kiliran. Lingkawas na gyud ko!

Apan dili kini mahitabo; naa’y nasayop. Ug didto na nako naamguhan. Lahi nga anino ang gipaak sa sigbin.

=—————————————————————-=

English Version

My shadow spoke to me again.

This time it was during lunch. I was preparing the chop suey and it told me to take the knife and stab the waitress who was going to pick up the next order. It whispered terrible things about her, how she talked behind my back; how she told people I was insane and that’s why my boyfriend left me; how no one would ever love a freak like me.

I told my boss that I was feeling sick today and he let me go home. The commute back to the apartment was hell. I made the mistake of standing by the window and people stared for an hour. They looked right across me and I just kept my head down. I didn’t want the attention.

Enough is enough, I packed my bags and booked a flight back to Iloilo. The flight only lasted an hour and I took the first bus back home. A big part of me thinks I’m crazy for doing this, trying to fight back a monster with another one, but that part is quickly silenced.

The shadow spoke again.

It told me how easy it would be to go up to the driver and force the bus to hit a passing car, or better yet a building. The whispers were getting stronger but I force them away. It’s getting scared. It should be.

I reach the town late. It’s close to midnight, but I can’t waste any more time. I run towards the field. I know it will be there, just like it was when it killed my sister. She told me to run, but I didn’t want to leave her, I thought I could help her. I’ll always remember her scream when it bit her shadow.

The whispers in my ears turn into shouts. The shadow’s angry and I can’t wait. I take the flashlight from my bag and set it in front of me. A few minutes later I smell it. The smell of rotting flesh and burnt skin. The smell of my salvation.

The sigbin is vicious. It bares its teeth and rushes past me and for a second I know true peace. It’s happened, I am finally free.

A moment later I feel something wrong. The sudden realization leaves me gasping for air.

It bit the wrong shadow.

=———————————————————=

*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
CebuanoTranslation by Winston
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Winston

Inspired by the Sigbin entry in Creatures of Philippine Lower Mythology. Ramos. 1971., Myth Museum. Medina. 2015. and 101 Kagila-gilalas na Nilalang. Samar. 2015

Sigbin Illustration and Watercolor by Nightmaresyrup
Tumblr: http://nightmaresyrup.tumblr.com/

*Note this story is in Waray

Kun diin kit tinuok

Didi liwat kit magtitikang

An Muya

An Bayi-Bayi

An kanya ngaran, Amburukay

An kanya tinago nga kadaragan-an

Gintatago niya sa tor-re

An Muya

An Bayi-bayi

Kun sin-o man an makakuha sa kanya tuos

Sa kanya bulawan nga dutdot

Aasawahon niya

Taghoy, an duwende

An Espiritu nga taga tugway

Ni Labaw Donggon

Ginsugaran siya nga upayon

An kanya wakay nga bidya

An tuos la

San Muya

San Bayi-bayi

Kanya ginkuha

Di siya maaram sa tuos

San Muwa

San Bayi-bayi

Dapat niya asawahon

Amburukay

An adlaw sa kasal

Sa kanya balay

Sa balay san lalaki

Gindara ngadto sa Muwa

Ngadto sa Bayi-bayi

Grabe nga haya ni Labaw Donggon

Dire an Muwa

Dire an Bayi-bayi

Dire ko siya kaya nga pakaslan

Amburukay

Wara siya didto

Kanya la binukot

Kanya la mga tinago nga mga kadaragan-an

Kanya mga anak nga babaye

Naglipay si Labaw Donggon

Kun diin kit tanan tinuok

Didi lat kit mahuhuman

=—————————————————————=

English Version

Where we all pause
Here shall we begin

The Muwa
The Bayi-bayi
Her name, Amburukay
She hides her kept maidens
Hides them in her tower

The Muwa
The Bayi-bayi
Whoever gets her tuos*
Her golden pubic hair
Will marry her

Taghoy, the duwende
The spirit guide
Of Labaw Donggon
Tells him to fix
His broken bidya

With only the tuos
Of the Muwa
Of the Bayi-bayi
He takes it

He knows not of the tuos
Of the Muwa
Of the Bayi-bayi
He must marry
Amburukay

The wedding day
His house
The house of the groom
Is brought to the Muwa
To the Bayi-bayi

Labaw Donggon cries in despair
Not the Muwa
Not the Bayi-bayi
I cannot marry her

Amburukay
Is not there
It is her binukot
Her kept maidens
Her adopted daughters
Labaw Donggon rejoices

Where we all pause
Here shall we end

=———————————————————=

*A tuos is a sacred vow or pledge. (This is in reference to the story wherein anyone that gets Amburukay’s golden pubic hair must marry her, as was the sacred magical binding contract of her parents)

*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 (In the style of a Sugidanon [Epic] of Panay)
Waray translation by Jmee Juanerio
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Jmee Juanerio

Story adapted from Amburukay: Sugidanon (Epics) of Panay. Caballero & Caballero-Castor translation by Magos. 2015.

Amburukay Illustration by Patmai De Vera
FB : Art of Patmai
TUMBLR : http://blog.patmai.net/
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I woke up again, my screams reverberate through the halls.

Sister Ella was the first to come to me, that poor woman has been with me through all my terrors.

I can’t let them know where I came from.

She takes out a rosary and we begin to pray, and in that moment, calm washes through me like a gentle wave.

I can’t thank them enough for taking me in. Not many would trust a stranger that washed up on their shores, but to the sisters it didn’t matter.

I was a soul that needed saving.

The next day was like any other, I would help do chores around the convent, do my daily meditation and try to adjust to my new life.

Reading scripture was my favorite part, even before stepping foot in the convent books were my escape. They were the only things that mattered to me in the end.

The sisters told me I would find solace in prayer. They didn’t see what I saw, how human failings would drown out even the best of people.

I shake my head and try to forget the past.

This is my life now.

Or so I thought.

There were times when we would read and discuss scripture and philosophy together. That day we discussed the seven sins. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking at the mere thought of them.

Sister Adeline saw my discomfort and called for a break. She sat next to me and asked me if I was alright.

The warm heat from my tears was all the answer she needed.

She and I excused ourselves and went to a quieter place.

She asked me if I had considered confession, that maybe that catharsis would make me feel better.

I calmly shook my head and told her she wouldn’t understand. Not with what I had been through.

She nodded her head and smiled. She wouldn’t presume to know that, but she asked me to put my feelings into words. I agreed.

It was the wind.

We were ignorant.

We didn’t listen.

Until the blackness rolled through the land.

Until…..

I paused for a moment to let my tears out.

In the silence, sister asked me, what did I mean by “we”?

I stood up and left. Stupid. I almost told her about where I came from.

In the weeks that followed the night terrors subsided, I could get through some days without screaming at all.

The days spent in the convent were some of the best of my life.

But I know it wouldn’t last.

The dreams were there even without the terrors.

To go back to the island of my birth, and make amends.

Were the dreams my penance?
I needed to go back to my old home.

I gathered what meager belongings I had and left a note with only one word.

Polobulac

I took a boat and saw for myself what happened to the island of flowers.

7 black rocks stood testament to a fallen people.

As I go closer, I can hear their mixed murmurs.

Torment. Devouring.

Warning. Condemnation.

Desire. Avoidance.

Death.

I stepped on what remained of the island, the last daughter of ash and sin.

The memories came back, harsh and jagged.

The seven voices.

The seven pillars of flame.

The day the sun was hidden behind a curtain of blackness.

The tempest.

I fall on my knees and let myself be consumed by the remnants of their power.

No matter where I was, they would find me.

But now it would be on my own terms.

Thank you, sisters.

I shall now find my rest.

=———————————————————————=

Story inspired by:

THE FALL OF POLOBULAC. http://www.sacred-texts.com/asia/pfs/pfs13.htm

*This is a tale from Panay. It probably originated with the Spanish fathers, who wished to impress the doctrine of the Seven Deadly Sins on the natives. The islands are just off Iloilo.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverz

The Seven Sins Illustration by Abe Joncel Guevarra
FB: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008285862780

IG: @abe.art.ph

*Note this story is in Tagalog

Isang araw may matandang mag-asawa na nahihirapan magkaroon ng anak. Nagdarasal sila tuwing gabi hanggang sa maipanganak ang kanilang anak na babae. Natuwa ang nanay nito at sinabi na may galak, “Wala ng mas gaganda sa aking anak. Kailanman hindi maihahambing sa kaniya ang pinakamagandang tomawo!”

Dinala ng hangin ang kaniyang mga sinabi, dumaan ito sa madilim na kagubatan at sa kaulapan hanggang sa umabot ito sa pandinig ng mga tomawo na naninirahan sa balon na may kalapitan lang sa bahay ng mag-asawa.

Hindi man lang nila naisip ang maaaring mangyari dahil sa sinabi nila tungkol sa mga espirito. Kaya ngayon, napagkasunduan ng mga tomawo na kunin ang pinakamamahal nilang anak bilang kabayaran sa kanilang kasalanan.

Ang mga tomawo ay walang kamatayan. Nasubaybayan nila ang paglaki ng maliit na bata at gayon din ang taglay nitong ganda. Kahit ang mga taong naninirahan sa kalayuan ay kilala ang isang babaeng kamahal-mahal.

Mas lalong naiingit ang mga tomawo dahil sa mga kinakanta ng mga ibon sa paligid:

“Siya ay isang bukang-liwayway. Kung sino man ang mahaplusan ng kaniyang liwanag ay pagpapalain magpakailanman.”

“Masusulyapan mo sa kaniyang mga mata ang walang hanggan. Walang makakatiis sa kaniyang titig.”

“Hindi masasalamin ng tubig ang taglay niyang kagandahan.”

Mas lalong sumiklab ang galit ng mga tomawo sa huling linyang iyon, dahil para sa kanila banal ang tubig at isang kabastusan ang pagpapahayag ng ganoong bagay.

Kaya pagsapit ng ikalabinlimang kaarawan nito, nagsimula nang kumilos ang mga espirito.

Nang gabing iyon, tulog na ang mag-asawa, at ang anak nila ay nasa labas natutuwa sa kinalabasan ng kaniyang kaarawan. Nakatanggap siya ng maraming regalo mula sa kaniyang mga manliligaw, kumikinang mga alahas at ginto. Pakiramdam niya na sumasang-ayon sa gusto niya ang lahat.

Ang pagmumuni-muni ay naudlot ng isang magandang tunog na papalapit sa kaniya. Hindi niya matiis na huwag itong pansinin at naglakad siya para hanapin ito.

Nag-uusap ang mga tomawo sa balon.

“Kailangan natin siyang lunurin, at pagkatapos ipapadala natin ang kaniyang bangkay sa mga magulang niya. Tingnan nila kung gaano kaganda ang kanilang ‘prinsesa’.”

“Hindi! Kailangan natin silang parusahan ng matagal at mabagal. Sa loob ng labinlimang taon tinitiis natin ang pang-aasar nila na kumupas na ang ating kagandahan. Gusto kong maramdaman niya ang ating pagdurusa.”

Nag-aaway ang mga tomawo at nagkukutyaan sa isa’t isa, pero hindi pa sila nagkakasundo sa kung ano ang gagawin nila.

Hanggang sa may isang boses na nangibabaw.

“Aking mga kapatid na tomawo, hindi sasapat ang pagpapahirap sa nararamdaman nating galit. Naniniwala ang mga tao na wala ng mas gaganda sa kanilang anak. Kailangan nating patunayan na nagkakamali sila.

“Ano ang gusto mong gawin natin?”

“Makikita mo.”

Nakatayo ang babae sa tabi ng balon. Alam niya kung ano ang ginagawa ng kaniyang katawan, pero hindi niya ito maigalaw.

Lumabas ang isang magandang babae sa bibig ng balon. Alam ng batang babae na may kakaiba sa nakikita niya katulad ng mga kuwento sa kaniya ng kaniyang lolo.

“Nakikiusap ako, pakawalan mo na ako.” nagmamakaawa ang batang babae.

“Nakagawa ng malaking kasalanan ang mga magulang mo sa mga tomawo.”

“Ano ang ibig mong sabihin? Wala kaming ginawang masama sa inyo.”

“Hindi ba totoo na sinabi ng mga tao na ikaw ang pinakamaganda sa lupaing ito. Kung saan natatalo mo pa ang tomawo sa kagandahan?”

“Oo pero biro lang iyon, labis-labis lang sila magsalita.”

“Sa tingin ko hindi. At kasama ka na rin doon.”

“Wala akong sinasabing kahit ano!”

“Talaga? Ano yung nangyari pagkatapos ng iyong kaarawan?”

“Walang nangyari!”

“Ano yung sinabi mo pagkatapos mong matanggap ang iyong mga regalo?”

“Wala! Nagbibiro lang ako!”

“Ano. Ang. Sinabi. Mo.”

Dumadaloy ang luha ng batang babae sa kaniyang mga pisngi.

“Sinabi ko na ako lang ang mahalaga. Na wala ng ibang nilalang, tao, espirito, o diyos ang makakaabot sa taglay kong kagandahan.”

“Isa kang kabastusan sa harapan ng mga espirito. Wala ng mas tatapat sa ganda na taglay namin. Isa kang tao lamang at kailanman hindi ka magiging kapantay namin.”

Napatahimik siya. Nararamdaman niya na humihina na ang kapangyarihan nila sa kaniya, pero sa halip na tumakbo hinarap niya ang espirito.

“Hindi mo alam kung ano tinutukoy mo! Bobo ka! Hindi mo ba alam kung gaano ako kaganda o wala kang mata! Kahit ano puwede mong gawin sa akin, pero lagi mong tatandaan, na ang taong ito ay mas maganda sa kahit sino sa inyo!

“Nambabastos ka talaga?!”

“Hindi, sinasabi ko lang ang totoo. Makikilala ako bilang pinakamagandang tao sa lupaing ito, habang ang iyong walang kuwentang mukha kailanman ay walang magkakagusto!”

“Pasaway kang bata ka. Pero baka tama ka nga. Paulit-ulit mong sinasabi na maganda ka kahit na wala na akong pakialam. Ang alam ko lang magkakasundo ang mga tao at mga espirito na ang tomawo ang mas maganda kaysa sa kahit anong bagay sa lupaing ito.”

“Ano yung gagawin mo sa akin?”

“Makikita mo….Kapatid.”

Ilang taong hinahanap ng mag-asawa ang kanilang anak hanggang sa namatay sila dulot ng kalungkutan. Hindi nasagot ang kanilang dalangin at nagdurusa sila hanggang sa kamatayan. Inilibing sila ng walang puntod malapit sa kanilang bahay.

May sabi-sabi na nalunod ang batang babae sa kalapit na ilog at makikita pa rin ang kaniyang kaluluwa na naglilibot mag-isa.

Ang sabi naman ng iba na sumama siya sa isa niyang manliligaw at isa na siyang reyna sa malayong kaharian. Kung saan doon ay payapa ang kaniyang buhay at patuloy na pinapalaganap ang kaniyang kagandahan.

Pero mayroon namang mga taong nagpapakalat ng babala sa balon malapit sa kagubatan. Ang sabi nila may mga magagandang espiritong nakatira doon. May mga taong hindi pinapansin ang mga babala dahil may mga kuwento na mayroong isang magandang espirito na nangingibabaw sa lahat. Ang mga taong may isip ay hindi susuway sa mga babala, pero mayroong mga tao hindi magpapatigil para lamang masilayan ang kaniyang kagandahan.

=———————————————–=

English Version

Once there was an old couple who had a difficult time conceiving. Every night they lifted their prayers to heaven until one day the woman found herself pregnant. When their child was born, she was of such profound beauty that her parents exclaimed, “There are none more beautiful than our daughter. Even the fairest tomawo could not compare to her!”

The wind carried their words through the somber forests and lofty clouds until they settled on the ears of those that tamawo that dwelt in a shallow well a fair distance from the couple’s house.

It never crossed the couple’s mind that an exclamation such as that could inflame the envy of those spirits. The spirits agreed that the child would pay for her parent’s words.

These tomawo were as patient as they were eternal. They watched as the child matured, growing even more beautiful. Even those from far-off lands knew of the girl and her unsurpassed loveliness.

The spirits grew even more embittered. They could hear the signs carried in the melodies of the songbirds:

“She is the sun ascending from the horizon. Those who are touched by her light are blessed forever.”

“All the flowers in the world cannot match her radiance.”

“In her eyes are the flickers of the infinite. No one can resist her gaze.”

“Mere water cannot reflect her true elegance.”

Now those last words cut a deep wound in the spirits’ pride for they dwelt in a shallow well. To them, water was so sacred that to even utter that statement would invoke their wrath.

On the girl’s fifteenth birthday the spirits began their plot.

That night, after her family had gone to sleep, the girl sat outside and reflected on how amazing the day was. She had received gifts from many suitors, dazzling jewels and breathtaking gold. She felt that the sun and moon were mere dots that served to light her figure.

Her rumination was interrupted by a sweet harmony, beckoning her near. She could not resist the sound’s charm and started walking to its source.

In the well the spirits bickered.
“We should drown that irritating upstart. A few minutes and it will all be over, then we can send her bloated corpse to the other humans to show just how pretty this ‘princess’ actually is.”

“No! We should make her punishment long and slow. For fifteen years we had to endure those insults that were thrown at our own beauty. I want to her to suffer as we have.”

The spirits fought and threw taunts at each other, but they were still no closer to an agreement.

Until one voice reverberated through the well.
“My tamawo sisters, all this talk of pain and suffering will not sate our resentment. The humans agreed that there was no spirit that could ever be as beautiful as this girl. We must prove them wrong.”

“What would you have us do then?”

“You shall see.”

The girl stood beside the well. She was fully aware of what her body was doing, but she could not control it.

From the well rose a beautiful woman. In her heart the girl new that the woman was a supernatural like her grandfather would tell of in his stories.

“Please let me go,” the girl begged.
“Your family has committed a grave sin against the spirits.”

“What do you mean? We’ve done nothing to harm you.”

“Is it not true that the humans across this land and others have proclaimed you as more beautiful than the spirits?”
“Yes but that was just a joke, they were exaggerating.”

“I don’t think they were. Or you were, for that matter.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“Oh really? Then what happened at your party?”

“Nothing happened!”

“What did you say after you received your gifts?”
“Nothing! It was just a joke!”

“What. Did. You. Say.”

Tears welled out down the girl’s cheeks.

“I said that I was the only thing that mattered. That no being, not a person, not a spirit, not even a god could ever reach the beauty I have.”

“You spit in the face of the spirits. There are none that hold beauty such as we do. You are nothing but a human and you will never equal us.”

The girl grew silent. She could feel the spell that kept her still fade away, but instead of running she faced the spirit.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You stupid cow! Do you know how gorgeous I am or do you not have eyes! You can do what you want with me, but you will always, ALWAYS, know that this human is more beautiful than any tomawo will ever be!”

“You dare throw disrespect?!”

“No, I am just telling the truth. I will be remembered as the greatest beauty in this land and others, while your stupid face can’t even interest a normal person!”

“Foolish girl. But you may be right. You are beautiful, more than I care to admit. I do know one way to have humans and spirits alike say that the tamawo are more beautiful than anything  in this realm and others.”

“What are you going to do to me?”

“You shall see…. Sister.”

The couple spent years trying to find their daughter until their heartbreak took a toll on their frail bodies. Their prayers were unanswered and they were tormented with the pain of loss until the end. They were buried near their home, in unmarked graves.

Some say the girl drowned in a river not too far away and her ghost could be seen roaming lonely paths.

Others say that one of her suitors carried her to a far-off land where she is now queen, content to spend her days sharing her beauty with her subjects.

But there are those that warn against going to an isolated well near the forest. They say that beautiful spirits make it their home. There are those that ignore those warnings for it is also said that one of those spirits is the most beautiful being in all the realms. Those with common sense would heed these warnings but for those without logic, nothing will stop them from seeing a glimpse of her beauty.

=—————————————————————————————-=

*Tomawo are beautiful spirits like the engkanto.

*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 the Manbukay description in The Remnants of the Great Ilonggo Nation. Sebastian Sta. Cruz Serag. 1997.

Manbukay illustration by Gabrielle Solera

IG: @gbsolera

Every night the bakunawas come.

It started a month ago. Our village was no stranger to the moon serpents, and we readied our gongs and our chants to safeguard the lunar light against the beasts. We rejoiced then, not knowing the hardship we would face. I think back to those happy times and weep.

We were not ready for this.

First, they came alone. The night after the first serpent came, another took its place. It was not unknown to our people that there would be multiple bakunawas in a month following each other. Their kind thought of the moon as a plaything, greedily swallowing it up when they could.

Our people knew of two kinds of moon serpent, differentiated by their bellies. One with a transparent stomach that, when it swallowed the moon, would cause a partial eclipse, and another with a thick-walled stomach that would cause the sky to darken completely.

After the first week we were exhausted. We forced ourselves to push through the pain, and there were even times when the serpents would slip past and gorge on the moon. We chanted twice as hard until we spat blood.

But they did not stop.

We consulted the spirit-talkers among us for answers. They sat beneath their Balete trees and communed with the spirits of sea and sky.

I still remember that night. The spirit talkers cried tears of blood and spoke in a voice of darkness. They told us that this was only the beginning. The bakunawas would come, until the world was completely drenched in midnight.

And there was nothing we could do about it.

I didn’t want to believe the spirit talkers. Maybe something was wrong with their visions. I know that something had to be done to rid our village, and the world of the moon serpents, at least long enough that our village could rest.

But I don’t know what to think now that it has been a month. Our village is tired and we pray to the sun that it would rid us of these loathsome beasts, yet no reprieve comes.
‘The serpents will come as harbingers of the dark. They will take everything from us and lead us into the end,’ the possessed spirit talker’s words echo in my head.

I will not take this lying down. There must be something I can do to stop the moon serpents. I gather my things, my kris, my lucky amulet and some provisions.

As children, we were warned not to stray in too far into the bamboo forest, for there are beings there that are not what they seem. Among these are the muwa, old men and women in one of their forms, and large, hairy creatures once they set aside their illusions.

The answer must lie with them, for if the spirits will not help us, maybe the monsters will.

The wind whistles through the bamboo forest and I am still.
Here is where I find them, the monsters that hold the answers. The spirit talkers in my village cannot help, they are blinded by the serpent’s power and their spirit guides do not reply.

Something must be done.

I hear rustling from a nearby bush and I jump to investigate.
I come face to face with an old woman. She graciously bows to me, but I do not respond. I know what she is.

“Get up, I have no time for your tricks,” I say. The old woman laughs, a loud, guttural sound that sends jolts down my spine. But there is no time for fear. It is almost sundown and the bakunawas will come again. I have to do this, for my people.
“Here he is. Who is that fearless one? Who is so brave that he seeks out the people of the forest?” The old woman’s illusion disappears. She is now a creature of the forest, covered in hair and magic.

“I am Adlaw, and I seek you for answers.”

Again, the muwa laughs, echoing through the bamboo. I notice that more of their kind is watching us.

“The child of the sun. Many have heard about him. He takes his weapons. Charges into the forest. And for what? A quick death maybe?”

“I am not here to fight,” I say as I lay down my kris. “I need to know about the bakunawas.”

“The serpents they come. To play with the moon. The lunar orb. They come all nights. And do not tire.”

“Yes, they seek the moon. Every night my village ring the gongs and shout to make the serpents spit out the sun. But we grow weary. Soon we will not be able to hold them off, and the night will be plunged into darkness.”

“The hubris of humans. Thinking that the duty belongs solely to them. We muwa. We bayi-bayi. Know of the moon serpents. And we do not want to see the nights lose their light.”

“Will you help me then? Please tell me what I should do,” I say falling to my knees. My heart skips a beat, rejoicing that I may have finally found the answer.

“It will come at a cost. There is payment to be done,” the muwa approaches me and looks into my eyes. Her hairy face and monstrous visage make me take a step back.

“I will pay whatever price you require,” I say.

“It is not to us that you will pay,” the muwa says. Her face contorts into a macabre grin. “It is to the serpents.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“To stop them from taking the brightness of night. You must go to the cliffs. The serpents will see you. And they will make a choice.”

“What choice?”

“They will decide if your sacrifice is suitable. If it is acceptable to the serpents. They will stop playing with the orb. If you give them your life.”

Her words strike me deep the moment I realize what she is asking of me. I ask her if there is another way and she replies with a blunt “You must choose between yourself and your village, and all other villages.

The muwa picks up my kris and hands it to me.

“Go, child of the sun. Son of the human tribes. It is up to you to stop the serpents. To stop the endless night.”

I take the kris and exhale.

I know what I must do.

I am here at the cliffside, waiting for the sun to set.

On any other day I would have just sat here and enjoyed the view, the pink-orange haze across the horizon is beautiful.
But this was not that day.

The sun sinks below the sea and I prepare myself. The serpents will be here soon.

I think of happier times. I think of my friends. I think of futures I wish I had and pasts I no longer regret.

The village has come with the gongs and I can hear them prepare in the distance.

I chose to do this alone, not telling any soul. I did not want to be a martyr. It is not for my name that I do this. It is for every child that will grow to be a warrior. It is for every family that will now stay together. It is for my mother, that she will live a full life.

It is for them that I do this.

In my final minutes I shout to the skies and goad the serpents towards me.

They fly to me and I smile.

My sacrifice was enough.

In the bamboo forest, a laugh is heard echoing through the branches.

An old woman looks to the sky and basks in the moonlinght. She says to herself, “The child of the sun. Too foolish for his own good. Heeding words he does not know are true. His sacrifice will be remembered. Not by those he saved. But by those he believed.”

*In Kinaray-a folklore there are two kinds of bakunawas, one that has a transparent belly, blamed for partial lunar eclipses and one with an opaque belly, blamed for total lunar eclipses

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the bakunawa description in The Soul Book. Demetrio & Cordero-Fernando 1991.

Bakunawa (Kinaray-a) Illustration by Julius Arboleda
Online Portfolio: https://juliusarbo.weebly.com/

Inspired by the Muwa legends from Panay

Muwa Illustration by Billy Joe Pana Fragata
Instagram: @kuy_beige

Pt 2 of Appeasing the Moon Serpents

The wind whistles through the bamboo forest and I am still.

Here is where I find them, the monsters that hold the answers. The spirit talkers in my village cannot help, they are blinded by the serpent’s power and their spirit guides do not reply.

Something must be done.

I hear rustling from a nearby bush and I jump to investigate.
I come face to face with an old woman. She graciously bows to me, but I do not respond. I know what she is.

“Get up, I have no time for your tricks,” I say. The old woman laughs, a loud, guttural sound that sends jolts down my spine. But there is no time for fear. It is almost sundown and the bakunawas will come again. I have to do this, for my people.
“Here he is. Who is that fearless one? Who is so brave that he seeks out the people of the forest?” The old woman’s illusion disappears. She is now a creature of the forest, covered in hair and magic.

“I am Adlaw, and I seek you for answers.”

Again, the muwa laughs, echoing through the bamboo. I notice that more of their kind is watching us.

“The child of the sun. Many have heard about him. He takes his weapons. Charges into the forest. And for what? A quick death maybe?”

“I am not here to fight,” I say as I lay down my kris. “I need to know about the bakunawas.”

“The serpents they come. To play with the moon. The lunar orb. They come all nights. And do not tire.”

“Yes, they seek the moon. Every night my village ring the gongs and shout to make the serpents spit out the sun. But we grow weary. Soon we will not be able to hold them off, and the night will be plunged into darkness.”

“The hubris of humans. Thinking that the duty belongs solely to them. We muwa. We bayi-bayi. Know of the moon serpents. And we do not want to see the nights lose their light.”

“Will you help me then? Please tell me what I should do,” I say falling to my knees. My heart skips a beat, rejoicing that I may have finally found the answer.

“It will come at a cost. There is payment to be done,” the muwa approaches me and looks into my eyes. Her hairy face and monstrous visage make me take a step back.

“I will pay whatever price you require,” I say.

“It is not to us that you will pay,” the muwa says. Her face contorts into a macabre grin. “It is to the serpents.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“To stop them from taking the brightness of night. You must go to the cliffs. The serpents will see you. And they will make a choice.”

“What choice?”

“They will decide if your sacrifice is suitable. If it is acceptable to the serpents. They will stop playing with the orb. If you give them your life.”

Her words strike me deep the moment I realize what she is asking of me. I ask her if there is another way and she replies with a blunt “You must choose between yourself and your village, and all other villages.

The muwa picks up my kris and hands it to me.

“Go, child of the sun. Son of the human tribes. It is up to you to stop the serpents. To stop the endless night.”

I take the kris and exhale.

I know what I must do.

I am here at the cliffside, waiting for the sun to set.

On any other day I would have just sat here and enjoyed the view, the pink-orange haze across the horizon is beautiful.
But this was not that day.

The sun sinks below the sea and I prepare myself. The serpents will be here soon.

I think of happier times. I think of my friends. I think of futures I wish I had and pasts I no longer regret.

The village has come with the gongs and I can hear them prepare in the distance.

I chose to do this alone, not telling any soul. I did not want to be a martyr. It is not for my name that I do this. It is for every child that will grow to be a warrior. It is for every family that will now stay together. It is for my mother, that she will live a full life.

It is for them that I do this.

In my final minutes I shout to the skies and goad the serpents towards me.

They fly to me and I smile.

My sacrifice was enough.

In the bamboo forest, a laugh is heard echoing through the branches.

An old woman looks to the sky and basks in the moonlinght. She says to herself, “The child of the sun. Too foolish for his own good. Heeding words he does not know are true. His sacrifice will be remembered. Not by those he saved. But by those he believed.”

Continued from the Bakunawa’s (Kinaray-a) Tale

Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the Muwa legends from Panay

Muwa Illustration by Billy Joe Pana Fragata
Instagram: @kuy_beige

Part 1 of Appeasing the Moon Serpents

Every night the bakunawas come.

It started a month ago. Our village was no stranger to the moon serpents, and we readied our gongs and our chants to safeguard the lunar light against the beasts. We rejoiced then, not knowing the hardship we would face. I think back to those happy times and weep.

We were not ready for this.

First, they came alone. The night after the first serpent came, another took its place. It was not unknown to our people that there would be multiple bakunawas in a month following each other. Their kind thought of the moon as a plaything, greedily swallowing it up when they could.

Our people knew of two kinds of moon serpent, differentiated by their bellies. One with a transparent stomach that, when it swallowed the moon, would cause a partial eclipse, and another with a thick-walled stomach that would cause the sky to darken completely.

After the first week we were exhausted. We forced ourselves to push through the pain, and there were even times when the serpents would slip past and gorge on the moon. We chanted twice as hard until we spat blood.

But they did not stop.

We consulted the spirit-talkers among us for answers. They sat beneath their Balete trees and communed with the spirits of sea and sky.

I still remember that night. The spirit talkers cried tears of blood and spoke in a voice of darkness. They told us that this was only the beginning. The bakunawas would come, until the world was completely drenched in midnight.

And there was nothing we could do about it.

I didn’t want to believe the spirit talkers. Maybe something was wrong with their visions. I know that something had to be done to rid our village, and the world of the moon serpents, at least long enough that our village could rest.

But I don’t know what to think now that it has been a month. Our village is tired and we pray to the sun that it would rid us of these loathsome beasts, yet no reprieve comes.
‘The serpents will come as harbingers of the dark. They will take everything from us and lead us into the end,’ the possessed spirit talker’s words echo in my head.

I will not take this lying down. There must be something I can do to stop the moon serpents. I gather my things, my kris, my lucky amulet and some provisions.

As children, we were warned not to stray in too far into the bamboo forest, for there are beings there that are not what they seem. Among these are the muwa, old men and women in one of their forms, and large, hairy creatures once they set aside their illusions.

The answer must lie with them, for if the spirits will not help us, maybe the monsters will.

*In Kinaray-a folklore there are two kinds of bakunawas, one that has a transparent belly, blamed for partial lunar eclipses and one with an opaque belly, blamed for total lunar eclipses
.
Written by Karl Gaverza
Copyright © Karl Gaverza

Inspired by the bakunawa description in The Soul Book. Demetrio & Cordero-Fernando 1991.

Bakunawa (Kinaray-a) Illustration by Julius Arboleda
Online Portfolio: https://juliusarbo.weebly.com/

*Note this story is in Bisaya

Moabót ang mgá tigsugílon susáma sa mgá bitúon.

Naglíngkod kó sa tábay nagpaábot níla. Nasáyod kó sa sáysay, kiníng gamayóng mgá babáyë mgá tigsugílon tanán mag-íwag sa ílang agiánan. Murá og diláab ang ílang buhók úg maglupád siláng daw bulákaw.

Sa báta pa kó kádtong uyoán kóng babáyë misúgid náko nga mopadángat ní silá sa igsusúmbong kó ngádto sa nagkadaíyang diwáta. Bísan únsa kunóng igsusúmbong ílang isúgid, ipadángat sánglit maó may búgtong nílang táhas.

Luyó níng tanán siyá ráy nahúnàhúnà kó, ang matahóm níyang kinabúhì gipúong sa panghitabô. Ngánong nákò siyá lámang úg walâ nay láin. Gitugótan kóng mokúpò nákong mgá pagmãhay ingón bukòt níng matúgnaw nga gabíi níng ting-inít.
Nangalígdig ang mgá lúhà, matág usá níla handománan níya. Ang íyang tinan-awán, ang íyang pinahiyomán, ang íyang mgá pangindáhay, tanán nákò mituhóp, gihímo kóng húyang úg háw-ang.

Naaláan kóng búang sa ákong mgá kaíla níng ákong gibúhat, apán waláy láing paági. Dílì kó kasúlti sa búhì pa siyá, úg dílì kó modáwat nga ulahí nang tanán. Dílì mahitabóng ulahí nang tanán sa pag-ángkong mahál mo ang usá ka táwö. Nán, nía kó rón naglíngkod níng tábay, nag-atáng mgá tigsugílon nga mopakítà ingón mgá bulákaw miláom tugótan níng ihángyò.

May síga kóng nalántaw sulód sa tábay, namilók ang ákong kásingkásing, nía na ang mgá gamáyong babáyë. Úg sa gianínaw kó aninípot lámang diáy kádto.

Makapalúya, apán nagmalíg-on ko. Magpaábot kó hángtod úg táman usá niadtóng mgá tigsugílon mopakítà.

Nakapanghupáw kó, bísan kiní na lámang mabúhat kó álang sa ákong gihigúgma.

English Version

The messengers come like the stars.

I sit by the well and I wait for them to come. I know the legends, how the small women, messengers all would come forth and light the path to their destination. They had hair like a flame and would fly like a shooting star.

Lola told me about them when I was young, how they would deliver messages from and to the different diwatas. She said that no matter where their message would take them, they would go, for that was the only duty that they knew.

Through it all I can only think of her, how her beautiful life was cut short by circumstance. How she made me feel like no one else ever could, or ever has since. I let regret envelop me like a blanket, warming me through this chill summer night.

My tears flow, each drop a different memory I have of her. The way she looked, the way she smiled, the ideas she would have about the future, all draining out of me, leaving me feeling weak and empty.

My friends think I’m crazy for doing this, but there’s no other way. I could never tell her when she was alive, and I refuse to believe that it’s too late. It will never be too late to tell someone you love them.

So here I sit, next to the well, waiting for the messengers to come like shooting stars, hoping they will grant my one request.

I see a light from inside the well and my heart stops, the small women are finally here. Until I look closer and see that it’s only a firefly.

I feel crushed, but I keep my resolve. I will wait as long as I have to until one of the messengers shows herself.

I breathe and think to myself it’s the least I could do for someone I love.

*Visayan (Bisaya or Binisaya) is a group of languages of the Philippines that are related to Tagalog and Bikol, all three of which are part of the Central Philippine languages. Most Visayan languages are spoken in the whole Visayas section of the country, but they are also spoken in the Bicol Region (particularly in Masbate), islands south of Luzon, such as those that make up Romblon, most of the areas of Mindanao and the province of Sulu located southwest of Mindanao. Some residents of Metro Manila also speak Visayan.

Written by Karl Gaverza
Bisaya Translation by Joseph Vincent (Josefwintzent) M. Libot
Copyright © Karl Gaverza
Translation Copyright © Joseph Vincent (Josefwintzent) M. Libot

Inspired by the Burulakaw myths from Central Panay. Described in Sta. Cruz Serag, Sebastian. (1997). The remnants of the great Ilonggo nation. Quezon City: Rex Book Store, Inc., p. 61. and Tagbanuwa Religion and Society. Fox. 1982

Burulakaw Illustration by Maku Felix
FB: Art of Maku Felix

Watercolor by Yanna Gemora
FB: Yannami

The sea glistened like a field of crushed diamonds, reflecting the soft light of the stars.

Tonight, as in all nights, was her ritual. It was late, the time when dreams fluttered in the minds of others, and it was this time that she could collect her thoughts.

There was little left for her in what should have been her home. Her mother had told her stories of when her people would move as nomads all over the island, but those times were long past. She looked at the beach, now filled with tourists escaping the drudgery of city life. This place was once a paradise for her people to live, now it was a hollow shell of its former self, chipped away at the ends by the consumption of man.