Life of Lam-ang (Biag ni Lam-Ang)- Anatomy of an Ilocano Epic

The theme of the epic revolves around the bravery and courage of the main character
portrayed by Lam-ang, who was gifted with speech as early as his day of birth, who
embarked on a series of adventures which culminated in his heroic death and
subsequent resurrection.
This series of adventures started with his search for his lost father who was murdered
by the head-hunting Igorots in the Igorot country. While on his way, he met a certain
Sumarang, whose name connotes obstruction, who tried to dissuade him from
proceeding and who taunted him into a fight. The fight that ensued proved fatal to
Sumarang as he was blown three kingdoms away with a spear pierced through his
stomach. This encounter led to another when he met a nine-headed serpent who, like
Sumarang earlier tried to dissuade him from going any further. The serpent having been
ignored challenged him into a fight which cost the serpent its heads.
Lam-ang went on until he found it necessary to rest and take a short nap. While asleep,
he dreamed of his fathers head being an object of festivities among the Igorots. He
immediately arose and continued his journey until he found the Igorots indeed feasting
over his fathers head.
He asked the Igorots why they killed his father, but the Igorots instead advised him to go
home if he did not want to suffer the same fate which his father suffered. This was
accompanied by a challenge to a fight, despite their obvious numerical superiority. But
Lam-ang, armed with supernatural powers, handily defeated them, giving the last
surviving Igorot a slow painful death by cutting his hands and his ears and finally
carving out his eyes to show his anger for what they had done to his father.
Satisfied with his revenge, he went home. At home, he thought of taking a swim in the
Cordan River with the company of Cannoyan and her lady-friends. So he proceeded to
Cannoyans place in the town of Calanutian, disregarding her mothers advice to the
contrary. On his way, he met a woman and named Saridandan, whose name suggests
that she was a woman of ill repute. He resisted her blandishments, for his feeling for
Cannoyan was far greater for anyone to take.
When he reached Cannoyans house, he found a multitude of suitors futilely vying for
her hand. With the help of his pets - the cock and the dog - he was able to catch
Cannoyans attention. He asked her to go with him to the river along with her ladyfriends. She acceded. While washing himself in the river, the river swelled, and the
shrimps, fishes and other creatures in the river were agitated for the dirt washed from
his body was too much. As they were about to leave the river, Lam-ang noticed a giant
crocodile. He dove back into the water and engaged with the creature in a fierce fight
until the creature was subdued. He brought it ashore and instructed the ladies to pull its
teeth to serve as amulets against danger during journeys.

Acknowledgment: three versions of Lam-ang in different art

styles, from Internet, Wikipedia, and concerned artists.

Back at Cannoyans house, he was confronted by her parents with an inquiry as to what
his real intention was. He had to set aside his alibi that he went there to ask Cannoyan
and her friends to accompany him to the river, and told them, through his spokesman the cock - that he came to ask for Cannoyans hand in marriage. He was told that if he
desired to marry Cannoyan, he must first be able to match their wealth, for which he
willingly complied. Having satisfied her parents, he went home to his mother and
enjoined her and his townspeople to attend his wedding which was to take place in
Cannoyans town.
The wedding was elaborate, an event that involved practically everyone in town. There
were fireworks, musical band, and display of attractive items like the glasses, the mirror,
the slippers, clothes and nice food. After the wedding, Lam-angs party plus his wife and
her town mates went back to their town of Nalbuan, where festivities were resumed.
The guests expressed a desire to taste a delicacy made of rarang fish.
Lam-ang was obliged to go to the sea and catch the fish. Before going, however, his
rooster warned that something unpleasant was bound to happen. This warning proved
true, as Lam-ang was swallowed by a big bercacan, or shark-like fish. Cannoyan
mourned and for a while she thought there was no way to retrieve her lost husband. But
the rooster indicated that if only all the bones could be gathered back, Lam-ang could
be brought to life again.
She then enlisted the aid of a certain diver named Marcus, who was ready to come to
her aid to look for the bones. When all Lam-angs bones were gathered, the rooster
crowed and the bones moved. The dog barked, and Lam-ang arose and was finally
resurrected. Cannoyan embraced him. For his deep appreciation for the help of his pets
- the cock and the dog - and of Marcus the diver, he promised that each other would get
his or its due reward. And they lived happily ever after.
This synopsis is based on the transcription made by Jose Llanes from a recitation by
memory of the poem by an old farmer, one Francisco Magana, from Bangui Ilocos
Norte, sometime in 1947. Of the six old versions of the epic which include a Zarzuela
(folk stage play) written by Eufemio L. Inofinada, the Llanes version (206 stanzas) and
that of Leopoldo Yabes (305 stanzas) are the most popular. Many believe that the
author of the epic is Pedro Bucaneg, a blind Ilocano poet who lived during the early part
of Spanish colonization. On close examination the farmers (Magana) version pre-dates
the Bucanegs Hispanized version, because the farmer clings more closely to ethnical
culture, and is richer with indigenous and pagan influences. Historians believe that Biag
ni Lam-ang is an epic drawn out from oral tradition handed down through countless
generations in the same way the Greeks Iliad and Odyssey were handed down through
centuries to the modern world. Historians like H. Otley Beyer, Fox, Fay-Cooper Cole
and Jose R. Calip believe in the pre- Hispanic origin of the poem. Calip in his doctoral
dissertation, University of Santo Tomas, 1957, further stated that it is not a product of
any single mind but as a property of the people- a floating wisdom from the centuries

into the generations. Through a long, slow evolutionary process, it floated from one
century to another, and grew into several versions retaining a lucid mirror of the people
of the past, reflecting their own values, environment and culture. Reference: Lam-ang in
Transition by Kenneth E.Bauzon, Philippine Social Sciences and Humanities Review,
Vol XXXVIII, No.3-4.(Dr.A.V.Rotor)

The Great Flood - Myth

The Great Flood, many of us know about it from the Bible, but have you ever
wondered if there are other versions of the story?
The Tingians, a group of pagan people inhabiting the interior hills of Abra have their own story
of the Great Deluge.
The tragic incident began with the abduction of Humitau, a sea-maiden guard of Tau-mari-u, lord
of the sea, by Aponi-tolau.
One day, Aponi-tolau, god-hero of the Tingians, went down to the lowlands. He wandered
aimlessly through the plains until he reached the seashore. The calm blue sea, massive and yet
helpless beneath the morning sun which flooded it with golden light, fascinated the young man.
And unable to resist the beauty of the dancing wavelets, he made a rattan raft and rowed
seaward.
On and on he rowed until he came to the edge of the world. There, in a place where the sea and
the sky meet, Aponi-tolau saw a towering rock, home of Tau-mari-u. lord of the sea. It was
guarded by nine beautiful daughters of the seaweeds. The radiance of the ocean light reflecting
silver and gold upon the greenish hair of the nine guards as they played around the palace gates,
chasing one another in gay laughter, attracted the mountain lord.
Gathering the courage the Tingian warrior went nearer the palace gates. However, when he
inquired what place it was, the maiden guard laughed at him and lured him further inside the
palace walls. This made Aponi-tolau very angry. Taking his magic hook, he lashed at the
unsuspecting maidens.
The hook hit the youngest and the most beautiful among them, Humitau. The young diwata gave
a loud and piercing scream and struggled desperately to free herself from Aponi-tolau's grip. But
the magic oil which the mountain lord had placed at the tip of his hook weakened her blood and
soon she was helpless.
A wild uproar followed as the guards screamed and fled the gates. Aponi-tolau hurriedly picked
up the unconscious body of the sea-maiden, loaded it on his rattan raft and rowed shoreward.
Shortly after the Tingian hero had left the bauwi ( native hut ) gates, Tau-mari-u went out of his
abode to see what was the commotion was all about. But he was too late.
In his rage, Tau-mari-u summoned the waves and tunas of the sea and ordered them to bring back

the intruder. The waves lashed at the raft of the mountain warrior and the tunas pushed it back.
Alarmed, Aponi-tolau cried out to his mother, Lang-an of Kadalayapan, mistress of the wind and
rain, for help. The great goddess heard her sons plea and immediately sent down strong winds to
pull Aponi-tolau and efforts of the tunas, the Tingian warrior was able to reach the shore
unharmed.
But Tau-mari-u was furious. He immediately called a meeting of the gods and demigods of the
seas and oceans, who agreed to punish the dwellers of the land for what Aponi-tolau had done.
From the sky, Lang-an knew the plan. She immediately called for the north wind and sent him to
warn her son of the impending flood. She instructed the mountain lord to go to the highest peak
of the Cordillera mountains for safety. Obediently, Aponi-tolau took the members of his
household to the mountain top and waited. The flood came. From his bauwi Aponi-tolau saw
mighty waves sweeping across the plains, filling the valleys, and destroying the crops and
working animals of the inhabitants. Higher and higher went the water until it covered the
mountain top but for the few square meters where Aponi-tolau and his household took shelter.
Frightened, Humitau gave a desperate cry. She knew that she could no longer swim or live in the
water after having tasted the mountain food which her husband had given her. The charm
removed her seapowers. She imploted Tau-mari-u to save her.
Ako ang Daigdig I am The World

ni Alejandro G. Abadilla

I
Ako

Ang daigdig

Am the World

Ako

Ang tula

Am the Poetry

Ako ang daigdig

I am the World

Ang tula

the Poetry

Ako ang daigdig

I am the World

Na tula

of Poetry

Ang tula

The Poetry

Ng daigdig

of the World

Ako

Ang walang maliw na ako

The Never-ending Me

Ang walang kamatayang ako

The Undying Me

Ang tula ng daigdig

The Poetry of the World

II
Ako

Ang daigdig ng tula

The World of Poetry

Ako

Ang tula ng daigdig

The Poetry of the World

Ako

Ang malayang ako

The Freeborn Me

Matapat sa sarili

Honest to Myself

Sa aking daigdig

To my Own World

ng tula

Of Poetry

Ako

Ang tula

Am the Poetry

Sa daigdig

To the World

Ako

Ang daigdig

Am the World

Ng tula

Of Poetry

Ako

III
Ako

Ang damdaming

The Passionately

Malaya

Free

Ako ang buhay

I am the Life

Na walang hanggan

That is Eternal

Ako

Ang damdamin

The emotion

Ang larawan

The reflection

Ang buhay

The life

Damdamin

Emotion

Larawan

Reflection

Buhay

Life

Tula

Poetry

Ako

IV

Ako

Ang daigdig

The World

Sa tula

In Poetry

Ako

Ang tula

The Poetry

Sa daigdig

In the World

Ako

Ang tula

Am the Poetry

Daigdig

World

Tula

Poetry

ako

Footnote to Youth
by: Jose Garcia Villa
The sun was salmon and hazy in the west. Dodong thought to himself he would tell his
father about Teang when he got home, after he had unhitched the carabao from the plow, and led
it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, he wanted his father to know what he
had to say was of serious importance as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally
decided to tell it, but a thought came to him that his father might refuse to consider it. His father
was a silent hardworking farmer, who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his
mother, Dodongs grandmother.
He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the housework.
I will tell him. I will tell it to him.
The ground was broken up into many fresh wounds and fragrant with a sweetish earthy
smell. Many slender soft worm emerged from the further rows and then burrowed again deeper
into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodongs foot and crawled clammilu
over it. Dodong got tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not
bother to look where into the air, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was
not young anymore.
Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and fave it a healthy tap on the hip. The beast
turned its head to look at him with dumb faithful eyes. Dodong gave it a slight push and the

animal walked alongside him to its shed. He placed bundles of grass before it and the carabao
began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interest.
Dodong started homeward thinking how he would break his news to his father. He
wanted to marry, Dodong did. He was seventeen, he had pimples on his face, then down on his
upper lip was dark-these meant he was no longer a boy. He was growing into a man he was a
man. Dodong felt insolent and big at the thought of it, although he was by nature low in stature.
Thinking himself man grown, Dodong felt he could do anything.
He walked faster, prodded by the thought of his virility. A small angled stone bled his
foot, but he dismissed it cursorily. He lifted his leg and looked at the hurt toe and then went on
walking. In the cool sundown, he thought wild young dreams of himself and Teang, his girl. She
had a small brown face and small black eyes and straight glossy hair. How desirable she was to
him. She made him want to touch her, to hold her. She made him dream even during the day.
Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscle of his arms. Dirty. This fieldwork
was healthy invigorating, but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he
had come, then marched obliquely to a creek.
Must you marry, Dodong?
Dodong resented his fathers question; his father himself had married early.
Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray under shirt and red kundiman shorts, on the
grass. Then he went into the water, wet his body over and rubbed at it vigorously. He was not
long in bathing, then he marched homeward again. The bath made him feel cool.
It was dusk when he reached home. The petroleum lamp on the ceiling was already
lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. He and his parents sat down on
the floor around the table to eat. They had fried freshwater fish, and rice, but did not partake of
the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when one held the,, they felt more fluid than solid.
Dodong broke off a piece of caked sugar, dipped it in his glass of water and ate it. He got another
piece and wanted some more, but he thought of leaving the remainder for his parent.
Dodongs mother removed the dishes when they were through, and went with slow
careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out. But he was tired and now, feld
lazy. He wished as he looked at her that he had a sister who could help his mother in the
housework. He pitied her, doing all the housework alone.
His father remained in the room, sucking a diseased tooth. It was paining him, again.
Dodong knew, Dodong had told him often and again to let the town dentist pull it out, but he was
afraid, his father was. He did not tell that to Dodong, but Dodong guessed it. Afterward, Dodong
himself thought that if he had a decayed tooth, he would be afraid to go to the dentist; he would
not be any bolder than his father.
Dodong said while his mother was out that he was going to marry Teang. There it was
out, what we had to say, and over which he head said it without any effort at all and without selfconsciousness. Dodong felt relived and looked at his father expectantly. A decresent moon
outside shed its feebled light into the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His
father look old now.
I am going to marry Teang, Dodong said.
His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth, The silenece
became intense and cruel, and Dodong was uncomfortable and then became very angry because
his father kept looking at him without uttering anything.

I will marry Teang, Dodong repeated. I will marry Teang.

His father kept gazing at him in flexible silence and Dodong fidgeted on his seat.
I asked her last night to marry me and she said Yes. I want your permission I
want it There was an impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at his coldness, this
indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the
little sound it made broke dully the night stillness.
Must you marry, Dodong?
Dodong resented his fathers question; his father himself had married early. Dodong
made a quick impassioned essay in his mind about selfishness, but later, he got confused.
You are very young, Dodong.
Im seventeen.
Thats very young to get married at.
I I want to marry Teangs a good girl
Tell your mother, his father said.
You tell her, Tatay.
Dodong, you tell your Inay.
You tell her.
All right, Dodong.
All right, Dodong.
You will let me marry Teang?
Son, if that is your wish of course There was a strange helpless light in his fathers
eyes. Dodong did not read it. Too absorbed was he in himself.
Dodong was immensely glad he has asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his
father, for a while, he even felt sorry for him about the pain I his tooth. Then he confined his
mind dreaming of Teang and himself. Sweet young dreams
***
Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely so that his camiseta was
damp. He was still like a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to
leave the house, but he had left. He wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was
afraid, he felt afraid of the house. It had seemingly caged him, to compress his thoughts with
severe tyranny. He was also afraid of Teang who was giving birth in the house; she face screams
that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that. He began to wonder madly if the
process of childbirth was really painful. Some women, when they gave birth, did not cry.
In a few moments he would be a father. Father, father, he whispered the word with awe,
with strangeness. He was young, he realized now contradicting himself of nine months ago. He
was very young He felt queer, troubled, uncomfortable.
Dodong felt tired of standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet close together. He
looked at his calloused toes. Then he thought, supposed he had ten children
The journey of thought came to a halt when he heard his mothers voice from the house.
Some how, he was ashamed to his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel
guilty, as if he had taken something not properly his.
Come up, Dodong. It is over.

Suddenly, he felt terribly embarrassed as he looked at her. Somehow, he was ashamed to

his mother of his youthful paternity. It made him feel guilty, as if he has taken something not
properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust off his kundiman shorts.
Dodong, his mother called again. Dodong.
He turned to look again and this time, he saw his father beside his mother.
It is a boy. His father said. He beckoned Dodong to come up.
Dodong felt more embarrassed and did not move. His parents eyes seemed to pierce
through him so he felt limp. He wanted to hide or even run away from them.
Dodong, you come up. You come up, his mother said.
Dodong did not want to come up. Hed rather stayed in the sun.
Dodong Dodong.
Ill come up.
Dodong traced the tremulous steps on the dry parched yard. He ascended the bamboo
steps slowly. His heart pounded mercilessly in him. Within, he avoided his parents eyes. He
walked ahead of them so that they should not see his face. He felt guilty and untru. He felt like
crying. His eyes smarted and his chest wanted to burst. He wanted to turn back, to go back to the
yard. He wanted somebody to punish him.
Son, his father said.
And his mother: Dodong..
How kind their voices were. They flowed into him, making him strong.
Teanf? Dodong said.
Shes sleeping. But you go in
His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his wife, asleep on the
paper with her soft black hair around her face. He did not want her to look that pale.
Dodong wanted to touch her, to push away that stray wisp of hair that touched her lips.
But again that feeling of embarrassment came over him, and before his parent, he did not want to
be demonstrative.
The hilot was wrapping the child Dodong heard him cry. The thin voice touched his heart.
He could not control the swelling of happiness in him.
You give him to me. You give him to me, Dodong said.
***
Blas was not Dodongs only child. Many more children came. For six successive years, a
new child came along. Dodong did not want any more children. But they came. It seemed that
the coming of children could not helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.
Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children tolled on her. She was shapeless and
thin even if she was young. There was interminable work that kept her tied up. Cooking,
laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had no married. She did
not tell Dodong this, not wishing him to dislike her. Yet, she wished she had not married. Not
even Dodong whom she loved. There had neen another suitor, Lucio older than Dodong by nine
years and that wasw why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong who was only seventeen.
Lucio had married another. Lucio, she wondered, would she have born him children? Maybe not,
either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He
wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He wanted to be wise about many thins.
Life did not fulfill all of Youths dreams.
Why must be so? Why one was forsaken after love?

One of them was why life did not fulfill all of the youth dreams. Why it must be so. Why
one was forsaken after love.
Dodong could not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must
be so to make youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet.
Dodong returned to the house, humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know little
wisdom but was denied it.
When Blas was eighteen, he came home one night, very flustered and happy. Dodong
heard Blas steps for he could not sleep well at night. He watched Blass undress in the dark and
lie down softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called his name and
asked why he did not sleep.
You better go to sleep. It is late, Dodong said.
Life did not fulfill all of youths dreams. Why it must be so? Why one was forsaken after
love?
Itay.. Blas called softly.
Dodong stirred and asked him what it was.
Im going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight.
Itay, you think its over.
Dodong lay silent.
I loved Tona and I want her.
Dodong rose from his mat and told Blas to follow him. They descended to the yard where
everything was still and quiet.
The moonlight was cold and white.
You want to marry Tona, Dodong said, although he did not want Blas to marry yet. Blas
was very young. The life that would follow marriage would be hard
Yes.
Must you marry?
Blas voice was steeled with resentment. I will mary Tona.
You have objection, Itay? Blas asked acridly.
Son non But for Dodong, he do anything. Youth must triumph now.
Afterward It will be life.
As long ago, Youth and Love did triumph for Dodong and then life.
Dodong looked wistfully at his young son in the moonlight. He felt extremely sad and
sorry for him.
MARIA MAKILING
Mariang Makiling is said to be the mysterious fairy guarding Mount Makiling. No one knows how old she is. It is
believed she is as old as the mountain itself. The very few people who have seen her wandering around the thick
forest of Makiling say she is tall and graceful, with brown skin, deep black eyes, and hair almost touching the ground.
Deer hunters have seen her standing on the edge of a cliff on moonlit nights, with her long hair floating in the air and
her singing echoing throughout the deep valleys.
Mariang Makiling likes to appear after a storm. She strolls around the woods to straighten broken trunks, replace
nests on the branches of trees, mend the wings of butterflies, and clear the streams of fallen twigs and logs. As she
walks around, all signs of the storm disappear; roses and orchids bloom, birds chirp with glee, and deer run around
once again.
Mariang Makiling is also known to have a good heart. She would appear as a young girl to help old women gather
firewood. She would then slip gold nuggets, coins, and jewels into their bundles of wood. She would also invite tired

hunters to her home where she will serve them a warm meal and cold drinks. She often gives them a small parting
gift of ginger, which hunters discover to have turned into gold when they arrive home.
Many of those who were granted Mariang Makilings generosity knows well how to repay her kindness. They thus
leave on the grounds of Mount Makiling a hen that is less than one year old and with feathers as white as milk. White
hens are her favourite treats.
Mariang Makiling has often appeared as an old woman begging for food from hunters. She does this to test their
kindness to those in need. People who refuse to help her are chased away from the forest with the sound of howling
monsters hiding in the shadows of the woods.
As time went by people saw less of Mariang Makiling. She no longer appears to people to bring them gifts of gold and
jewels. Hunters have no one to turn to when they are hungry and thirsty.
Many blame Mariang Makilings disappearance from the forest on the people who do not return her generosity.
Others say that the cutting of trees and excessive hunting of wild animals have greatly disappointed Mariang Makiling
that she refuses to come out anymore. But the tale of the mysterious fairy of Mount Makiling lives on.

The Legend of the Magat River

A long time ago, there lived in Bayombong a tall,
handsome man
called Magat. He was young and strong,
and fast as a hunter and sure in his spear shot. He could run as fast as a deer and strong as he was, he
could down a bull with ease. He was strong-willed and obstinate but he was also kind and gentle. Except for
a few who envied him his prowess,
everybody in the village loved and re
spected him. Magat loved outdoor
life, and roamed in the forest surrounding the struggling settlement.
One day
, fired by adventure he wandered farther than us
ual. Soon night came. Being far from home, he
kindled a fire in his crude, primitive way. he lay beside the fire and fell asleep.
Early the next morning, he pursued his solitary way. Finally he came upon the largest
stream
he had ever
seen. He stopped and crawled noisily to
the bank
of the river near the fall. Upon parting the tall grasses he
beheld a lovely sight just across the stream-beneat
h the shade of the outspreading branches of the big
balete tree was a very beautiful maiden. She was bathing and was nude from the waist up. She was the
most beautiful woman Magat had ever seen and he fell in love with her at first sight.
From where he was hiding, Magat's attention was attr
acted by a silent movement on a spreading branch;
Magat saw a great python, coiled around the branch,
which was ready to attack the beautiful woman. He
jumped backward. The noise he made drew the attention of the maiden, who, turning around, saw him poise
a spear. She mistook his attitude for hostility and ducked under water. Just as the python sprang, the spear
flew from Magat's hand. The snake was st
ruck right through the eyes and brain.
The next moment, Magat was in the water and carried the beautiful Maiden ashore. She struggled a little but
did not scream, as she modestly tried to cover her body with her long dark hair.
Magat pointed to the writhing python.
Upon seeing it, she screamed instinctively and drew close to Magat,
who put a

protecting
arm around her lovely shoulders. Gratitude and
admiration were all over her pretty face.
Magat picked up his broken spear and went back to
the young woman. They wandered about in the forest.
Under the spell of nature, Magat asked the woman to
be his wife; the woman, after making Magat promise in
the name of the great Kabunian not to see her at noon, consented.
He brought her home and made a cozy room for her. Ev
erything went well and happily for a while. But the
passing days, his curiosity mounted more and mo
re and at last, it grew out of bounds.
One noon, he broke his promise and broke into his wif
e's seclusion. In his wife's bed of soft leaves and
grasses he beheld a sight that chilled his
heart
. A great crocodile was lying on his wife's bed. Believing that
his wife had met a horrible death, he rushed to the kitc
hen, fetched an ugly weapon and returned to his wife's
room. He raised his weapon to kill the crocodile
when suddenly he saw his wife on the bed instead of the
crocodile. His wife was dying.
"you broke your promise. I can no longer be happy nor
live any longer. I must die." his wife sobbed. Slowly
life ebbed from her. On her beautiful skin, scales appeared, as she turned into a crocodile before his very
eyes. That was his
punishment
for having broken his promise made in the name of Kabunian.
Sadly, Magat buried the dead crocodile in his
front yard
. worn out by grief for his lack of fidelity to his word
and over the death of his lovely wife, he drowned himself
and his miseries in the same stream grew into the
mighty troublesome Magat river.

Love of Country
What love can be
purer and greater
than love of country?
What love? No other love, none.
Even when the mind repeatedly reads
and try to understand
the history that is written and printed
by humanity, this (love of country) can be seen
Holy love! when born
of a pure heart,
the humble and the backwoodsman, the poor, the unlettered
become great and respected.

Love of country
is always the desire of a man with honor;
In songs, in poetry, in his writings
the greatness of the country is always the theme.
Nothing dear to a person with a pure heart
is denied to the country that gave him birth:
blood, wealth, knowledge, sacrifices,
E'en if life itself ends.
Why? what is this that is so big
to which is dedicated with utmost devotion,
all that is dear
and to which life is sacrificed.
Ah, this is the Mother country of one's birth,
she is the mother on whom
the soft rays of the sun shine,
which gives strength to the weak body.
To her one owes the first kiss
of the wind that is the balm
of the oppressed heart drowning
in the deep well of misfortune and suffering.
Entwined with this is love of country,
everything that is dear to the memory,
from the happy and careless childhood
to the hour of death.
The bygone days of joy,
the future that is hoped
will free the slaves,
where can this be found but in one's native land?
Every tree and branch
of her fields and forest joyful to behold,
'tis enough to see them to remember
the mother, the loved one, and the happiness now gone.

Her clear waters -they come from the mountain springs,

the soft whisper of the rushing wavelets
enlivens the sorrowing heart.
How unfortunate to be separated from the country!
Even memory is in sorrow's embrace,
nothing is desired
but to see the country of one's birth.
If this country is in danger
and she needs defending,
Forsaken are the children,
the wife, the parents, the brothers and sisters
at the country's beck and call.
And if our land, Filipinas,*
is offended and her honor, reason, and dignity outraged,
by a traitorous foreign country;
What unhappiness and grief
will invade the heart of the Filipino?**
And will not even the most peaceful
Rise to avenge her honor?
Where will the strength
to take revenge and to throw away life come,
if none can be relied upon for help,
but those suffering from slavery?
If his suffering and slavery
are in the mire of deceit and oppression,
one holds the whip, the chains that bind,
and only tears are allowed to roll down.
Who is there to whom her condition
Will not fill the soul with sorrow?
Will the heart most hardened by treachery
Not be moved to give her its life blood?
Will not, perchance, her sorrow

Drive the Filipinos to come to the rescue

of the mother in agony, trampled
underfoot by the mean Spaniards?
Where is the honor of the Filipino?**
where is the blood that should be shed?
The country is being oppressed, why not make a move,
you are shocked witnessing this.
Go, you who have lived
in the full hope of comfort,
and who reaped nothing but bitterness,
Go and love the oppressed country.

You who, from the stream of your breast,

have lost the holy desire to sacrifice,
Once more let true love flow,
express that love for the imprisoned country.
You from whom the fruit and flowers
of your life have been plucked
by intrigues and incomparable sufferings,
once more freshen up and love thy country.
You, so many hearts that... ?*
of cheating and oppression of the mean in actions,
now rise up and save the country,
snatch it from the claws of the tyrant.
You who are poor without... ?*
except to live in poverty and suffering,
protect the country if your desire is to end
your sufferings, for her progress is for all.
Dedicate with all your love -as long there is blood -- shed every drop of it,
If for the defense of the country life is... ?*
this is fate and true glory.

THE WEDDING DANCE

There was a couple named Awiyao and Lumnay. They were married for a long time but Awiyao her
husband has to marry another girl named Madulimay because Lumnay cannot bear a child. On the night of
the wedding of Awiyao and Madulimay, Awiyao went to his and Lumnay's house where they used to live to
personally invite his ex wife to join the dance but Lumnay refuses to join. Lumnay is the best dancer in their
tribe.
They had a heart-to-heart talk about their separation, and on their conversation they found out that the
couple still had a thing on each other. They still love each other but they have to separate because their
tribes custom is--every man in that tribe should have one (or more) child that would carry his name and if
his wife cannot give him a child he can marry another woman. It's a man's necessity to have a child.
Lumnay can hardly let go of her husband. The two both agreed that if Awiyao's second marriage did not
work, he will go back to Lumnay's arms and this was sealed by the beads that Lumnay will keep. Then
Awiyao goes back to the wedding because someone is calling him already. After being fetched by others,
Lumnay decided to go to the wedding not to dance or to join the celebration but to stop the wedding. She
decided to break the unwritten law of her tribe, but when she is near all her guts to stop the wedding
suddenly disappeared. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast. Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground,
away from the village. She went to the mountain instead and in the mountain is where she diverted all her bitterness in her and she partly
reminisce their story of Awiyao.

THE STORY OF BANTUGAN

Before the Spaniards occupied the island of Mindanao, there lived in the valley of the Rio
Grande a very strong man, Bantugan, whose father was the brother of the earthquake and
thunder.
Now the Sultan of the Island had a beautiful daughter whom Bantugan wished to marry, but the
home of the Sultan was far off, and whoever went to carry Bantugan's proposal would have a
long and hazardous journey. All the head men consulted together regarding who should be sent,
and at last it was decided that Bantugan's own son, Balatama, was the one to go. Balatama was
young but he was strong and brave, and when the arms of his father were given him to wear on
the long journey his heart swelled with pride. More than once on the way, however, his courage
was tried, and only the thought of his brave father gave him strength to proceed.
Once he came to a wooden fence which surrounded a stone in the form of a man, and as it was
directly in his path he drew his fighting knife to cut down the fence. Immediately the air became
as black as night and stones rained down as large as houses. This made Balatama cry, but he
protected himself with his father's shield and prayed, calling on the winds from the homeland
until they came and cleared the air again.
Thereupon Balatama encountered a great snake in the road, and it inquired his errand. When
told, the snake said:
"You cannot go on, for I am guard of this road and no one can pass."

The animal made a move to seize him, but with one stroke of his fighting knife the boy cut the
snake into two pieces, one of which he threw into the sea and the other into the mountains.
After many days the weary lad came to a high rock in the road, which glistened in the sunlight.
From the top he could look down into the city for which he was bound. It was a splendid place
with ten harbors. Standing out from the other houses was one of crystal and another of pure gold.
Encouraged by this sight he went on, but though it seemed but a short distance, it was some time
before he at last stood at the gate of the town.
It was not long after this, however, before Balatama had made known his errand to the Sultan,
and that monarch, turning to his courtiers, said: "You, my friends, decide whether or not I shall
give the hand of my daughter to Bantugan in marriage."
The courtiers slowly shook their heads and began to offer objections.
Said one, "I do not see how Bantugan can marry the Sultan's daughter because the first gift must
be a figure of a man or woman in pure gold."
"Well," said the son of Bantugan, "I am here to learn what you want and to say whether or not it
can be given."
Then a second man spoke: "You must give a great yard with a floor of gold, which must be three
feet thick."
"All this can be given," answered the boy.
And the sister of the Princess said: "The gifts must be as many as the blades of grass in our city."
"It shall be granted," said Balatama.
"You must give a bridge built of stone to cross the great river," said one.
And another: "A ship of stone you must give, and you must change into gold all the cocoanuts
and leaves in the Sultan's grove."
"All this can be done," said Balatama. "My uncles will give all save the statue of gold, and that I
shall give myself. But first I must go to my father's town to secure it."
At this they were angry and declared that he had made sport of them and unless he produced the
statue at once they would kill him.
"If I give you the statue now," said he, "there will come dreadful storms, rain, and darkness."
But they only laughed at him and insisted on having the statue, so he reached in his helmet and
drew it forth.

Immediately the earth began to quake. A great storm arose, and stones as large as houses rained
until the Sultan called to Balatama to put back the statue lest they all be killed.
"You would not believe what I told you," said the boy; "and now I am going to let the storm
continue."
But the Sultan begged him and promised that Bantugan might marry his daughter with no other
gifts at all save the statue of gold. Balatama put back the statue into his helmet, and the air
became calm again to the great relief of the Sultan and his courtiers. Then Balatama prepared to
return home, promising that Bantugan would come in three months for the wedding.
All went well with the boy on the way home until he came to the fence surrounding the stone in
the form of a man, and there he was detained and compelled to remain four months.
Now about this time a Spanish general heard that Bantugan was preparing to marry the Sultan's
daughter, whom he determined to wed himself. A great expedition was prepared, and he with all
his brothers embarked on his large warship which was followed by ten thousand other ships.
They went to the Sultan's city, and their number was so great that they filled the harbor,
frightening the people greatly.
Then the General's brother disembarked and came to the house of the Sultan. He demanded the
Princess for the General, saying that if the request were refused, the fleet would destroy the city
and all its people. The Sultan and his courtiers were so frightened that they decided to give his
daughter to the General, the next full moon being the date set for the wedding.
In the meantime Bantugan had been preparing everything for the marriage which he expected to
take place at the appointed time. But as the days went by and Balatama did not return, they
became alarmed, fearing he was dead. After three months had passed, Bantugan prepared a great
expedition to go in search of his son, and the great warship was decorated with flags of gold.
As they came in sight of the Sultan's city, they saw the Spanish fleet in the harbor, and one of his
brothers advised Bantugan not to enter until the Spaniards left They then brought their ship to
anchor. But all were disappointed that they could not go farther, and one said, "Why do we not
go on? Even if the blades of grass turn into Spaniards we need not fear." Another said: "Why do
we fear? Even if the cannon-balls come like rain, we can always fight." Finally some wanted to
return to their homes and Bantugan said: "No, let us seek my son. Even though we must enter the
harbor where the Spaniards are, let us continue our search." So at his command the anchors were
lifted, and they sailed into the harbor where the Spanish fleet lay.
Now at this very time the Spanish general and his brother were with the Sultan, intending to call
upon the Princess. As the brother talked with one of the sisters of the Princess they moved
toward the window, and looking down they saw Bantugan's ships entering the harbor. They could
not tell whose flags the ships bore. Neither could the Sultan when he was called. Then he sent his
brother to bring his father who was a very old man, to see if he could tell. The father was kept in
a little dark room by himself that he might not get hurt, and the Sultan said to his brother:

"If he is so bent with age that he cannot see, talk, or walk, tickle him in the ribs and that will
make him young again; and, my Brother, carry him here yourself lest one of the slaves should let
him fall and he should hurt himself."
So the old man was brought, and when he looked out upon the ships he saw that the flags were
those of the father of Bantugan who had been a great friend of his in his youth. And he told them
that he and Bantugan's father years ago had made a contract that their children and children's
children should intermarry, and now since the Sultan had promised his daughter to two people,
he foresaw that great trouble would come to the land. Then the Sultan said to the General:
"Here are two claimants to my daughter's hand. Go aboard your ships and you and Bantugan
make war on each other, and the victor shall have my daughter."
So the Spaniards opened fire upon Bantugan, and for three days the earth was so covered with
smoke from the battle that neither could see his enemy. Then the Spanish general said:
"I cannot see Bantugan or the fleet anywhere, so let us go and claim the Princess."
But the Sultan said: "We must wait until the smoke rises to make sure that Bantugan is gone."
When the smoke rose, the ships of Bantugan were apparently unharmed and the Sultan said:
"Bantugan has surely won, for his fleet is uninjured while yours is badly damaged. You have
lost."
"No," said the General, "we will fight it out on dry land."
So they both landed their troops and their cannon, and a great fight took place, and soon the
ground was covered with dead bodies. And the Sultan commanded them to stop, as the women
and children in the city were being killed by the cannon-balls, but the General said:
"If you give your daughter to Bantugan we shall fight forever or until we die."
Then the Sultan sent for Bantugan and said:
"We must deceive the Spaniard in order to get him to go away. Let us tell him that neither of you
will marry my daughter, and then after he has gone, we shall have the wedding."
Bantugan agreed to this, and word was sent to the Spaniards that the fighting must cease since
many women and children were being killed. So it was agreed between the Spaniard and
Bantugan that neither of them should marry the Princess. Then they both sailed away to their
homes.
Bantugan soon returned, however, and married the Princess, and on the way back to his home
they found his son and took him with them. For about a week the Spanish general sailed toward
his home and then he, too, turned about to go back, planning to take the Princess by force. When

he found that she had already been carried away by Bantugan, his wrath knew no bounds. He
destroyed the Sultan, his city, and all its people. And then he sailed away to prepare a great
expedition with which he should utterly destroy Bantugan and his country as well.
One morning Bantugan looked out and saw at the mouth of the Rio Grande the enormous fleet of
the Spaniards whose numbers were so great that in no direction could the horizon be seen. His
heart sank within him, for he knew that he and his country were doomed.
Though he could not hope to win in a fight against such great numbers, he called his headmen
together and said:
"My Brothers, the Christian dogs have come to destroy the land. We cannot successfully oppose
them, but in the defense of the fatherland we can die."
So the great warship was again prepared, and all the soldiers of Islam embarked, and then with
Bantugan standing at the bow they sailed forth to meet their fate.
The fighting was fast and furious, but soon the great warship of Bantugan filled with water until
at last it sank, drawing with it hundreds of the Spanish ships. And then a strange thing happened.
At the very spot where Bantugan's warship sank, there arose from the sea a great island which
you can see today not far from the mouth of the Rio Grande. It is covered with bongo palms, and
deep within its mountains live Bantugan and his warriors. A Moro sailboat passing this island is
always scanned by Bantugan's watchers, and if it contains women such as he admires, they are
snatched from their seats and carried deep into the heart of the mountain. For this reason Moro
women fear even to sail near the island of Bongos.
When the wife of Bantugan saw that her husband was no more and that his warship had been
destroyed, she gathered together the remaining warriors and set forth herself to avenge him. In a
few hours her ship was also sunk, and in the place where it sank there arose the mountain of
Timaco.
On this thickly wooded island are found white monkeys, the servants of the Princess, who still
lives in the center of the mountain. On a quiet day high up on the mountain side one can hear the
chanting and singing of the waiting-girls of the wife of Bantugan.
The IBALON

A long time ago, there was a rich land called Ibalong. The hero Baltog, who came from Botavora of the brave clan of Lipod, came to this land when
many monsters were still roaming in its very dark forests. He decided to stay and was the first to cultivate its field and to plant them with gabi.
Then one night, a monstrous, wild boar known as Tandayag saw these field and destroyed the crops. Upon knowing this, Baltog decided to look for this
boar with all his courage and patient. At last, as soon as he saw it, he fearlessly wrestled with it, with all his might. Baltog was unafraid. He was strong
and brave. Though the Tandayag had very long fangs, he was able to pin down the monstrous, wild boar and break apart its very big jawbones. With
this, Tandayag fell and died.
After this fight, Baltog went to his house in Tondo, carrying the Tandayag broken bones. Then he hung it on a talisay tree in front of his house. Upon
learning of the victory of their Chief Baltog, the people prepared a feast and celebrated. The very big jawbones of the dead boar became an attraction
for everyone. Thus, came the tribes of Panikwason and Asog to marvel it.

The second hero who came to the land of Ibalong was Handyong. Together with his men, he had to fight thousands of battles, and face many dangers
to defeat the monster. As warriors, they first fought the one-eyed monster with the tree necks in the land of Ponong. For ten months, they fought without
rest. And they never stopped fighting until all these monsters were killed.
Handyong and his men made their next attack against the giant flying sharks called Triburon which had hardly flesh and sawlike teeth that could crush
rocks. They continued fighting until the defeat of the last Triburon.
They tamed the wild carabaos. They even drove away the giant and very fierce Sarimao which had very sharp fingernails. And using their spears and
arrows, they killed all the crocodiles which were as big as boats. With all these killings, the rivers and swamps of Ibalong turned red with blood. It was
at this time that the savage monkeys became frightened and hid themselves.
Among the enemies of Handyong and his men, the serpent Oryol was the hardest to kill. Having a beautiful voice, Oryol could change its image to
deceive its enemies. To capture it, Handyong tried different ways. But Oryol escaped every one of it and disappeared.
So alone and unafraid, Handyong decide to look for Oryol in the heart of the forest. He followed the beautiful voice and was almost enchanted by it in
his pursuit. Days and nights passed until Oryol came to admire Handyongs bravery and gallantry. Then the serpent helped the hero to conquer
monsters, thus restoring peace to the entire Ibalong.
In one the areas of Ibalong called Ligmanan, Handyong built a town. Under his leadership and his laws, slaves and masters were treated equally. The
people planted rice and because of their high regard of him they named this rice after him. He built the first boat to ride the waves of Ibalongs seas.
Through his good example, his people became inspired and came up with their own inventions. There was Kimantong who made the plow, harrow and
other farming tools. Hablom who invented the first loom for weaving abaca clothes, Dinahong an Agta, who created the stove, cooking pot, earthen jar
and other kitchen utensils, and Sural who brilliantly thought of syllabary and started to write on a marble rock. This was a golden period in Ibalong.
Then suddenly, there came a big flood caused by Unos, with terrifying earthquakes. The volcanoes of Hantik, Kulasi and Isarog erupted. Rivers
changed their direction and the seas waves rolled high. Destruction was everywhere. Soon, the earth parted, mountains sank, a lake was formed, and
many towns in Ibalong were ruined.
Then appeared the giant Rabot, half-man and half-beast, with awesome and terrifying powers.
People were asking who will fight against Rabot. So Bantong, the third hero was called. He was a good friend of Handyong. He was ordered to kill the
new monster on Ibalong. To do this, he took with him a thousand warriors to attack Rabots den. But using his wisdom against Rabot, he did not attack
the giant right away. He first observed Rabots ways. Looking around the giants den, he discovered that there were many rocks surrounding it, and
these were the people who were turned into rocks by Rabot.
Bantong also learned that Rabot loved to sleep during the day and stayed awake at night. So, he waited. When Rabot was already sleeping very
soundly, Bantong came hear him. He cut the giant into two with his very sharp bolo and without any struggle, Rabot died. So Ibalong was at peace
once more.

Characters of the story:

o
o

Baltog - First hero of Ibalon who defeated the Tandayag.

Handyong - Second hero who fought thousands of battles and defeated lots of monsters particularly the One-eyed monster,
Triburon, the Giant Carabaos, Sarimao, Crocodiles, and Serpent Oryol.

Bantong - Third hero of Ibalon; a good friend of Handyong.

Kimantong - He made the farming tools.

Hablom - He invented the first loom for weaving abaca clothes.

Dinahong - an Agta; created the kitchen utensils.

Sural - he is the one who brilliantly thought of syllabary; he started to write on a marble rocks.

Tandayag - a monstrous wild boar killed by Baltog.

One-eyed monster - a monster with three necks killed by Handyong.

Triburon - a giant flying shark at the same time defeated by Handyong.

Giant Carabaos & Crocodiles - monster enemy killed by Handyong.

Sarimao - a monster with sharp fingernails.

Serpent Oryol - a serpent; hardest enemy of Handyong.

Giant Rabot - half-man and half-beast; last enemy of Bantong.

HINILAWOD
When the goddess of the eastern sky Alunsina (also known as Laun Sina, The Unmarried One)
reached maidenhood, the king of the gods, Kaptan, decreed that she should marry. All the
unmarried gods of the different domains of the universe tried to win her hand to no avail. She
chose to marry a mortal, Datu Paubari, the mighty ruler of Halawod.
Her decision angered her other suitors. They plotted to bring harm to the newlyweds. A meeting
of the council of gods was called by Maklium-sa-twan, god of the plains, where a decision by
those present was made to destroy Halawod by flood.
Alunsina and Paubari escaped harm through the assistance of Suklang Malayon, the goddess and
guardian of happy homes and sister of Alunsina, who learned of the evil plot and warned the two
so they were able to seek refuge on higher ground.
After the flood waters subsided, Paubari and Alunsina returned to the plains secretly. They
settled near the mouth of the Halawod river.
Several months later Alunsina became pregnant and told Paubari to prepare the siklot, things
necessary for childbirth. She delivered a set of triplets and summoned the high priest BungotBanwa to perform the rites of the gods of Mount Madya-as (the mountain abode of the gods) to
ensure the good health of the children. The high priest promptly made an altar and burned some
alanghiran fronds and a pinch of kamangyan. When the ceremony was over he opened the
windows of the north side of the room and a cold northernly wind came in and suddenly the three
infants were transformed into strong, handsome young men.
Labaw Donggon, the eldest of the three, asked his mother to prepare his magic cape, hat, belt and
kampilan (sword) for he heard of a place called Handug where a beautiful maiden named Angoy
Ginbitinan lived.
The journey took several days. He walked across plains and valleys, climbed up mountains until
he reached the mouth of the Halawod river. When he finally met the maidens father and asked
for her hand in marriage, the father asked him to fight the monster Manalintad as part of his

dowry. He went off to confront the monster and with the help of his magic belt Labaw Donggon
killed the monster and to prove his feat he brought to Angoy Ginbitinans father the monsters
tail.
After the wedding, Labaw Donggon proceeded home with his new bride. Along the way they
met a group of young men who told him that they were on their way to Tarambang Burok to win
the hand of Abyang Durunuun, sister of Sumpoy, the lord of the underworld and whose beauty
was legendary.
Labaw Donggon and his bride continued on their journey home. The moment they arrived home
Labaw Donggon told his mother to take care of his wife because he is taking another quest, this
time he was going to Tarambang Burok.
Before he can get to the place he has to pass a ridge guarded by a giant named Sikay Padalogdog
who has a hundred arms. The giant would not allow Labaw Donggon to go through without a
fight. However, Sikay Padalogdog was no match to Labaw Donggons prowess and skill in
fighting so he gave up and allowed him to continue.
Labaw Donggon won the hand of Abyang Durunuun and also took her home. Before long he
went on another journey, this time it is to Gadlum to ask for the hand of Malitong Yawa
Sinagmaling Diwata who is the young bride of Saragnayan, the lord of darkness.
This trip required him to use his biday nga inagta (black boat) on which he sailed across the seas
for many months, went across the region of the clouds, and passed the land of stones until finally
he reached the shores of Tulogmatian which was the seaside fortress of Saragnayan. The moment
he set foot on the ground Saragnayan asked him, Who are you and why are you here?
To which he answered, I am Labaw Donggon, son of Datu Paubari and goddess Alunsina of
Halawod. I came for the beautiful Malitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata.
Saragnayan laughed. He told Labaw Donggon that what he wished for was impossible to grant
because she was his wife. Labaw Donggon then challenged Saragnayan to a duel saying that
whoever wins will have her.
The challenge was accepted and they started fighting. Labaw Donggon submerged Saragnayan
under water for seven years, but when he let go of him, Saragnayan was still alive. The latter
uprooted a coconut tree and started beating Labaw Donggon with it. He survived the beating but
was not able to surpass the powers of Saragnayans pamlang (amulet) and eventually he gave up
and was imprisoned by Saragnayan beneath his house.
Back home Angoy Ginbitinan and Abyang Durunuun both delivered sons. Angoy Ginbitinans
child was named Aso Mangga and Abyang Durunuuns son was called Abyang Baranugon.

Only a few days after they were born, Aso Mangga and Abyang Baranugon embarked to look for
their father. They rode their sailboats through the region of eternal darkness, passed the region of
the clouds and the land of stones, finally reaching Saragnayans home. Saragnayan noticed that
Abyang Baranugons umbilical cord have not yet been removed, he laughed and told the child to
go home to his mother.
Abyang Baranugon was slighted by the remarks and immediately challenged Saragnayan to a
duel. They fought and Abyang Baranugon defeated Saragnayan and won his fathers freedom.
Labaw Donggons defeat and subsequent imprisonment by the Lord of Darkness also angered his
brothers. Humadapnon was so enraged that he swore to the gods of Madya-as that he would
wreak revenge on all of Saragnayans kinsmen and followers.
Humadapnon prepared to go to Saragnayans domain. He employed the aid of Buyong
Matanayon of Mount Matiula who was well-known for his skill in swordsmanship. For their
journey they rode on a sailboat called biday nga rumba-rumba. They travelled through the region
of the clouds, passed by the region of eternal darkness and ended up at a place called Tarambang
Buriraw. In this place was a ridge called Talagas Kuting-tang where a seductive sorceress named
Piganun lived.
Piganun changed herself to a beautiful maiden and captured the heart of Humadapnon. Buyong
Matanayon begged with Humadapnon to leave the place with him but the latter refused. After
seven months passed, Buyong Matanayon remembered that they have brought with them some
ginger. One evening at dinner time Buyong Matanayon threw seven slices of ginger into the fire.
When Pinganun smelled the odor of burning ginger she left the dinner table because sorcerers
hated the odor of ginger. Immediately Buyong Matanayon struck Humadapnon, who became
unconscious. He dragged his friend with him and they were able to escape.
They continued with their trek and everywhere they went they exacted revenge on all of
Saragnayans people and relatives. One day they reached a place called Piniling Tubig who was
ruled by Datu Umbaw Pinaumbaw. There was a big gathering in the village and when they asked
what was going on they were told that the datu was giving his daughter for marriage to whoever
could remove the huge boulder that rolled from a mountain into the center of the village. Many
men tried their luck but no one so far was able to even move the stone.
Humadapnon took off his magic cape and used it to lift the stone and threw it back into the
mountain. The datu kept his word and Humadapnon married his daughter. During the wedding
feast Humadapnon heared about the beauty of the goddess of greed Burigadang Pada Sinaklang
Bulawan from a guest minstrel who sang at the celebration.

After the wedding Humadapnon went to seek the hand of the goddess in marriage. Along the
way he encountered Buyong Makabagting, son of the mighty Datu Balahidyong of Paling Bukid
who was also travelling with the same purpose in mind. Upon learning of Humadapnons intent,
Buyong Makabagting challenged him to a duel. They fought and Buyong Makabagting was no
match to Humadapnons strength and skill. The fight ended when Buyong Makabagting
surrendered and even promised to aid Humadapnon in his quest. Humadapnon married the
goddess and brought her home.
Meanwhile, right after Humadapnon left to seek Saragnayans followers and relatives his brother
Dumalapdap left for Burutlakan-ka-adlaw where the maiden Lubay-Lubyok Hanginun si
Mahuyokhuyokon lived. For the trip he brought along Dumasig, the most powerful wrestler in
Madya-as.
Several months later they came to a place called Tarambuan-ka-banwa where they encountered
the two-headed monster Balanakon who guarded a narrow ridge leading to the place where the
maiden lived.
With the aid of Dumasig, Dumalapdap killed Balanakon. However, upon approaching the gate of
the palace where the maiden lived he was confronted by Uyutang, a bat-like monster with sharp
poisonous claws. There ensued a bloody battle between the Dumalapdap and the monster. They
fought for seven months and their skill and prowess seemed to be equal. But on the seventh
month, Dumalapdap was able to grab on to Uyutangs ankle and broke it. Then he took his iwang
daniwan (magic dagger) and stabbed Uyutang under the armpit. Uyutang cried out so loud that
the ridge where they were fighting broke into two and there was an earthquake. Half of the ridge
became the island of Buglas (Negros) and the other became the island of Panay.
Dumalapdap married Lubay-Lubyok Hanginun si Mahuyokhuyokan and then took her home.
Datu Paubari was very happy when he was reunited with his three sons and he prepared a feast in
their honor. After the celebration, the three brothers left for different parts of the world. Labaw
Donggon went to the north, Humadapnon went south, Dumalapdap to the west and Datu Paubari
remained in the east.

Sicalac and Sicavay

(A Visayan Creation Myth)
Once there were two gods, Captan and Maguayan.One day, Captan planted a bamboo in
agarden. It grew and split into two sections, and stepped out a man who was named Sicalac
andwoman named Sicavay.Sicalac asked Sicavay's hand for marriage because there were no
other people on earth.She refused because they were brother and sister, having been conceived
out of the same reed.Sicalac persistently pleaded with her and finally they decided to consult the
tunas of the sea, thedoves of the air and the earthquake, who agreed that they should marry so
that the world will be populated. Finally, they decided to go ahead and got married and had a son

named Sibo. Thenthey had a daughter named Samar. Sibo and Samar had a daughter named
Luplupan who grewup and married Pandaguan, who was also a son of Sicalac and Sicavay.
Lupluban and Pandaguanhad a son named Anoranor.Pandaguan invented the fishing net and he
caught a shark when he used it but the shark did not survive for long out of the water. He cried
loudly to the Gods.The god Captan, sent the flies to find out why Pandaguan was making such a
loud lamentation but the flies refused to obey so they were condemned to scavenge among filthy
and rotten thingsfrom then on. Then, the god sent the weevils and he discovered about
Pandaguans grief and he
struck him dead by a thunderbolt. Pandaguan stayed in the infernal regions but the gods took
pityon him and brought him back to the world.Pandaguan discovered that his wife Luplupan
became the concubine of Maracoyrun.Pandaguan got angry and went back to infernal regions,
vowing never to return to the world.
______________________________________________________________________________
MYTH--a myth is defined as a sacred narrative explaining how the world and humankind came
to be in their present form.
Theme:
The story is about how the first people appeared on earth*It tells a story of equal
birthing of man and woman throughout the archipelago that assert a womans equal
position with a man within the tribal systems.
Moral Lesson:
We should only do things or decisions as long as it is necessary and acceptable.*We
should always accept that things happen for a reason and that all things on Earth come to an
end*We should obey the authority for us to be safe but, we should also remember to obey only
those that obey the moral policies or rules.*We should be careful not to love or marry somebody
else other than the one we married and we have promised to love forever because it is one of
Gods will.
Bowaon and Totoon
Once upon a time, there were two friends, Bowaon and Totoon. They couldnt
find work so they decided to go away from their place to look for their
fortune somewhere. They brought with them some rice and then they
mounted their horses. As they went on, they got hungry. From a distance,
they saw a coral reef. They got off their horses and headed for the reef to
catch some fish. They caught schools of fish but these were very tiny. Totoon
forgot his hunger. He returned the fish he caught to the reef. Bowaon got
angry. How will we able to eat? he scolded Totoon. Never mind Bowaon,
they are so tiny; they will still grow bigger, Totoon replied.
They rode on their horses again. After a distance, they saw a dead man.
Totoon asked Bowaon to stop so they could bury the body. But Bowaon got
angry, Are you out of mind? If somebody sees us, hell think we killed him.
But we should show mercy. There is a way of finding the truth. Well, if you
wont help me, then I will bury him by myself. You may go onward if you
please. Ill follow later, said Totoon.

Bowaon went ahead while Totoon dug a grave for the body. Then he carried
the dead person and buried him. He prayed over it then went on his journey.
Bowaon could not bear to leave him so he returned for Totoon. They
therefore, set out together again. Trotting along, they heard babies crying.
They went towards the direction of the sounds. They found hungry baby
eagles in a nest.
Lets stop for a while and feed the eagles, suggested Totoon. Then Bowaon
saw that Totoon was going to kill his horse. Are you foolish? When they grow
up theyll prey on you. Lets go on, were already delayed, Bowaon said.
Dont mind me. I pity these baby eagles. Anyway, no debt goes unpaid. Go
ahead, Ill just follow.
If you go on with your silly ideas, Ill not give you a ride, threatened
Bowaon.
Then Ill walk, decided Totoon. Even if I go slowly, Ill still reach my
destination.
After killing his horse, he fed the eagles. When they feel asleep, Totoon left.
Bowaon again returned to give Totoon a ride. Far ahead, they sighted a
palace. Lets go, suggested Bowaon. Lets ask the king for work.
They knocked at the palace door. They were told to enter, but since it was
late, they were not granted any audience with the king. They slept in the
palace. You see, taunted Bowaon, if you did not delay our trip, we
shouldve been able to eat. You are the cause of all this. They went to sleep
nevertheless since they were so tired from their journey.
After a while, Totoon heard someone calling his name. Rise, Totoon, and
listen: In the morning, when the king calls you for breakfast, dont eat at
once. On the table youll see a pen and some cooking utensils. Sit near the
pen, and your future will be bright. Dont be surprised. I am the dead person
whom you have buried. I have come back to pay you back the favor you
showed me. Everything went silent and Totoon feel asleep again.
In the morning, the two friends were called for breakfast by the king. As he
was told the night before, he saw the pen and some cooking utensils on the
table. Bowaon sat down and just as soon began eating.
You, Totoon, will become my secretary; while you, Bowaon, will become my
cook, announced the king.
At first, Bowaon was glad with his work for it meant plenty of food. He would
not go hungry. But as time went on, he began to envy Totoon for the latter
was not fatigued much. He thought of smearing the name of his friend.

One day, Bowaon went to the king to report that he heard Totoon say that
the latter would be able to find the ring the king lost within three days and
that the reward will be marriage to the princess. Of course, the king got
angry for he did not say anything like that. He had Totoon summoned to his
hall. Totoon protested the accusation but the angry king would not listen to
him.
Go, look for the ring then and if you find it you will have the princess for a
reward but, if you fail you will lose your head, announced the king.
Totoon did not say anything. He got a paddle and rode far out to the sea.
There, he cried because of his fate. No longer after, he heard a voice. It was
a fish asking him why he as crying. Totoon unburdened his problem. After
listening, the fish dived deep into the sea. When it surfaced, many fishes
came up with it, each one with a ring in its snout. Totoon looked among the
rings. The kings ring was not there. The fishes dived again. When they came
up, they were bringing the kings ring. Totoon thanked the fish.
Dont mention it, said the fish. Actually we are only paying the favor you
showed us before when you threw us back into the reef. Then they left.
The king rejoiced that the ring had been found. He held a banquet. Now,
Bowaon had plenty of work again. He did not like it. In the banquet, the king
announced the forthcoming marriage of Totoon and the princess. Bowaon
was very angry. There would be much work ahead. He thought of a plan to
thwart the wedding. But it did not succeed.
After the wedding, Bowaon went to the king. Your majesty, he said. I
heard Totoon say that on the third day, the princess will give birth.
The king got mad. He once more summoned Totoon. Do you mean to say
that you had an affair with the princess even before you got married? You
scoundrel! But since youre already my child, I cant do anything. However,
do what youve said---that the princess will give birth three days from now. If
not, youll surely lose your head.
Totoon cried in despair. The princess comforted him by saying shed talk with
her father, but he couldnt be calmed. After a while, an eagle came. Dont
cry, Totoon, she began. This time Ill help you in payment for help you
extended my children. Get a midwife and talk to her. Ill bring you a newlyborn child. Then the eagle flew away.
When she came back, she had an infant, still dripping with blood. In the
bedroom, the midwife acted as if there really was a delivery. When the king

awoke he heard the ones of an infant. He was amazed that the princess did
give birth. He forgot his anger. It must be a miracle, he muttered.
Dead star
THROUGH the open window the air-steeped outdoors passed into his room,
quietly enveloping him, stealing into his very thought. Esperanza, Julia, the
sorry mess he had made of life, the years to come even now beginning to
weigh down, to crush--they lost concreteness, diffused into formless
melancholy. The tranquil murmur of conversation issued from the brick-tiled
azotea where Don Julian and Carmen were busy puttering away among the
rose pots.
2.

"Papa, and when will the 'long table' be set?"

3.

"I don't know yet. Alfredo is not very specific, but I understand Esperanza
wants it to be next month."

4.

Carmen sighed impatiently. "Why is he not a bit more decided, I wonder.

He is over thirty, is he not? And still a bachelor! Esperanza must be tired
waiting."

5.

"She does not seem to be in much of a hurry either," Don Julian nasally
commented, while his rose scissors busily snipped away.

6.

"How can a woman be in a hurry when the man does not hurry her?"
Carmen returned, pinching off a worm with a careful, somewhat absent air.
"Papa, do you remember how much in love he was?"

7.

"In love? With whom?"

8.

"With Esperanza, of course. He has not had another love affair that I know
of," she said with good-natured contempt. "What I mean is that at the
beginning he was enthusiastic--flowers, serenades, notes, and things like
that--"

9.

Alfredo remembered that period with a wonder not unmixed with shame.
That was less than four years ago. He could not understand those months of
a great hunger that was not of the body nor yet of the mind, a craving that
had seized on him one quiet night when the moon was abroad and under the
dappled shadow of the trees in the plaza, man wooed maid. Was he being
cheated by life? Love--he seemed to have missed it. Or was the love that
others told about a mere fabrication of perfervid imagination, an
exaggeration of the commonplace, a glorification of insipid monotonies such
as made up his love life? Was love a combination of circumstances, or sheer
native capacity of soul? In those days love was, for him, still the eternal
puzzle; for love, as he knew it, was a stranger to love as he divined it might
be.

10. Sitting quietly in his room now, he could almost revive the restlessness of
those days, the feeling of tumultuous haste, such as he knew so well in his
boyhood when something beautiful was going on somewhere and he was
trying to get there in time to see. "Hurry, hurry, or you will miss it," someone
had seemed to urge in his ears. So he had avidly seized on the shadow of
Love and deluded himself for a long while in the way of humanity from time
immemorial. In the meantime, he became very much engaged to Esperanza.
11. Why would men so mismanage their lives? Greed, he thought, was what
ruined so many. Greed--the desire to crowd into a moment all the enjoyment
it will hold, to squeeze from the hour all the emotion it will yield. Men commit
themselves when but half-meaning to do so, sacrificing possible future
fullness of ecstasy to the craving for immediate excitement. Greed-mortgaging the future--forcing the hand of Time, or of Fate.
12. "What do you think happened?" asked Carmen, pursuing her thought.
13. "I supposed long-engaged people are like that; warm now, cool tomorrow. I
think they are oftener cool than warm. The very fact that an engagement has
been allowed to prolong itself argues a certain placidity of temperament--or
of affection--on the part of either, or both." Don Julian loved to philosophize.
He was talking now with an evident relish in words, his resonant, very nasal
voice toned down to monologue pitch. "That phase you were speaking of is
natural enough for a beginning. Besides, that, as I see it, was Alfredo's last
race with escaping youth--"
14. Carmen laughed aloud at the thought of her brother's perfect physical
repose--almost indolence--disturbed in the role suggested by her father's
figurative language.
15. "A last spurt of hot blood," finished the old man.
16. Few certainly would credit Alfredo Salazar with hot blood. Even his friends
had amusedly diagnosed his blood as cool and thin, citing incontrovertible
evidence. Tall and slender, he moved with an indolent ease that verged on
grace. Under straight recalcitrant hair, a thin face with a satisfying breadth of
forehead, slow, dreamer's eyes, and astonishing freshness of lips--indeed
Alfredo Salazar's appearance betokened little of exuberant masculinity;
rather a poet with wayward humor, a fastidious artist with keen, clear brain.
17. He rose and quietly went out of the house. He lingered a moment on the
stone steps; then went down the path shaded by immature acacias, through
the little tarred gate which he left swinging back and forth, now opening, now
closing, on the gravel road bordered along the farther side by madre cacao
hedge in tardy lavender bloom.

18. The gravel road narrowed as it slanted up to the house on the hill, whose
wide, open porches he could glimpse through the heat-shrivelled tamarinds
in the Martinez yard.
19. Six weeks ago that house meant nothing to him save that it was the
Martinez house, rented and occupied by Judge del Valle and his family. Six
weeks ago Julia Salas meant nothing to him; he did not even know her name;
but now-20. One evening he had gone "neighboring" with Don Julian; a rare enough
occurrence, since he made it a point to avoid all appearance of currying
favor with the Judge. This particular evening however, he had allowed
himself to be persuaded. "A little mental relaxation now and then is
beneficial," the old man had said. "Besides, a judge's good will, you know;"
the rest of the thought--"is worth a rising young lawyer's trouble"--Don Julian
conveyed through a shrug and a smile that derided his own worldly wisdom.
21. A young woman had met them at the door. It was evident from the
excitement of the Judge's children that she was a recent and very welcome
arrival. In the characteristic Filipino way formal introductions had been
omitted--the judge limiting himself to a casual "Ah, ya se conocen?"[So, you
know each other already?--Ed.]--with the consequence that Alfredo called her
Miss del Valle throughout the evening.
22. He was puzzled that she should smile with evident delight every time he
addressed her thus. Later Don Julian informed him that she was not the
Judge's sister, as he had supposed, but his sister-in-law, and that her name
was Julia Salas. A very dignified rather austere name, he thought. Still, the
young lady should have corrected him. As it was, he was greatly
embarrassed, and felt that he should explain.
23. To his apology, she replied, "That is nothing, Each time I was about to
correct you, but I remembered a similar experience I had once before."
24. "Oh," he drawled out, vastly relieved.
25. "A man named Manalang--I kept calling him Manalo. After the tenth time or
so, the young man rose from his seat and said suddenly, 'Pardon me, but my
name is Manalang, Manalang.' You know, I never forgave him!"
26. He laughed with her.

27. "The best thing to do under the circumstances, I have found out," she
pursued, "is to pretend not to hear, and to let the other person find out his
mistake without help."
28. "As you did this time. Still, you looked amused every time I--"
29. "I was thinking of Mr. Manalang."
30. Don Julian and his uncommunicative friend, the Judge, were absorbed in a
game of chess. The young man had tired of playing appreciative spectator
and desultory conversationalist, so he and Julia Salas had gone off to chat in
the vine-covered porch. The lone piano in the neighborhood alternately
tinkled and banged away as the player's moods altered. He listened, and
wondered irrelevantly if Miss Salas could sing; she had such a charming
speaking voice.
31. He was mildly surprised to note from her appearance that she was
unmistakably a sister of the Judge's wife, although Doa Adela was of a
different type altogether. She was small and plump, with wide brown eyes,
clearly defined eyebrows, and delicately modeled hips--a pretty woman with
the complexion of a baby and the expression of a likable cow. Julia was taller,
not so obviously pretty. She had the same eyebrows and lips, but she was
much darker, of a smooth rich brown with underlying tones of crimson which
heightened the impression she gave of abounding vitality.
32. On Sunday mornings after mass, father and son would go crunching up the
gravel road to the house on the hill. The Judge's wife invariably offered them
beer, which Don Julian enjoyed and Alfredo did not. After a half hour or so,
the chessboard would be brought out; then Alfredo and Julia Salas would go
out to the porch to chat. She sat in the low hammock and he in a rocking
chair and the hours--warm, quiet March hours--sped by. He enjoyed talking
with her and it was evident that she liked his company; yet what feeling
there was between them was so undisturbed that it seemed a matter of
course. Only when Esperanza chanced to ask him indirectly about those
visits did some uneasiness creep into his thoughts of the girl next door.
33. Esperanza had wanted to know if he went straight home after mass. Alfredo
suddenly realized that for several Sundays now he had not waited for
Esperanza to come out of the church as he had been wont to do. He had
been eager to go "neighboring."
34. He answered that he went home to work. And, because he was not
habitually untruthful, added, "Sometimes I go with Papa to Judge del Valle's."
35. She dropped the topic. Esperanza was not prone to indulge in unprovoked
jealousies. She was a believer in the regenerative virtue of institutions, in

their power to regulate feeling as well as conduct. If a man were married,

why, of course, he loved his wife; if he were engaged, he could not possibly
love another woman.
36. That half-lie told him what he had not admitted openly to himself, that he
was giving Julia Salas something which he was not free to give. He realized
that; yet something that would not be denied beckoned imperiously, and he
followed on.
37. It was so easy to forget up there, away from the prying eyes of the world,
so easy and so poignantly sweet. The beloved woman, he standing close to
her, the shadows around, enfolding.
38. "Up here I find--something--"
39. He and Julia Salas stood looking out into the she quiet night. Sensing
unwanted intensity, laughed, woman-like, asking, "Amusement?"
40. "No; youth--its spirit--"
41. "Are you so old?"
42. "And heart's desire."
43. Was he becoming a poet, or is there a poet lurking in the heart of every
man?
44. "Down there," he had continued, his voice somewhat indistinct, "the road is
too broad, too trodden by feet, too barren of mystery."
45. "Down there" beyond the ancient tamarinds lay the road, upturned to the
stars. In the darkness the fireflies glimmered, while an errant breeze strayed
in from somewhere, bringing elusive, faraway sounds as of voices in a
dream.
46. "Mystery--" she answered lightly, "that is so brief--"
47. "Not in some," quickly. "Not in you."
48. "You have known me a few weeks; so the mystery."
49. "I could study you all my life and still not find it."
50. "So long?"
51. "I should like to."

52. Those six weeks were now so swift--seeming in the memory, yet had they
been so deep in the living, so charged with compelling power and sweetness.
Because neither the past nor the future had relevance or meaning, he lived
only the present, day by day, lived it intensely, with such a willful shutting
out of fact as astounded him in his calmer moments.
53. Just before Holy Week, Don Julian invited the judge and his family to spend
Sunday afternoon at Tanda where he had a coconut plantation and a house
on the beach. Carmen also came with her four energetic children. She and
Doa Adela spent most of the time indoors directing the preparation of the
merienda and discussing the likeable absurdities of their husbands--how
Carmen's Vicente was so absorbed in his farms that he would not even take
time off to accompany her on this visit to her father; how Doa Adela's
Dionisio was the most absentminded of men, sometimes going out without
his collar, or with unmatched socks.
54. After the merienda, Don Julian sauntered off with the judge to show him
what a thriving young coconut looked like--"plenty of leaves, close set, rich
green"--while the children, convoyed by Julia Salas, found unending
entertainment in the rippling sand left by the ebbing tide. They were far
down, walking at the edge of the water, indistinctly outlined against the gray
of the out-curving beach.
55. Alfredo left his perch on the bamboo ladder of the house and followed. Here
were her footsteps, narrow, arched. He laughed at himself for his black
canvas footwear which he removed forthwith and tossed high up on dry
sand.
56. When he came up, she flushed, then smiled with frank pleasure.
57. "I hope you are enjoying this," he said with a questioning inflection.
58. "Very much. It looks like home to me, except that we do not have such a
lovely beach."
59. There was a breeze from the water. It blew the hair away from her
forehead, and whipped the tucked-up skirt around her straight, slender
figure. In the picture was something of eager freedom as of wings poised in
flight. The girl had grace, distinction. Her face was not notably pretty; yet
she had a tantalizing charm, all the more compelling because it was an inner
quality, an achievement of the spirit. The lure was there, of naturalness, of
an alert vitality of mind and body, of a thoughtful, sunny temper, and of a
piquant perverseness which is sauce to charm.

60. "The afternoon has seemed very short, hasn't it?" Then, "This, I think, is the
last time--we can visit."
61. "The last? Why?"
62. "Oh, you will be too busy perhaps."
63. He noted an evasive quality in the answer.
64. "Do I seem especially industrious to you?"
65. "If you are, you never look it."
66. "Not perspiring or breathless, as a busy man ought to be."
67. "But--"
68. "Always unhurried, too unhurried, and calm." She smiled to herself.
69. "I wish that were true," he said after a meditative pause.
70. She waited.
71. "A man is happier if he is, as you say, calm and placid."
72. "Like a carabao in a mud pool," she retorted perversely.
73. "Who? I?"
74. "Oh, no!"
75. "You said I am calm and placid."
76. That is what I think."
77. "I used to think so too. Shows how little we know ourselves."
78. It was strange to him that he could be wooing thus: with tone and look and
covert phrase.
79. "I should like to see your home town."
80. "There is nothing to see--little crooked streets, bunut roofs with ferns
growing on them, and sometimes squashes."

81. That was the background. It made her seem less detached, less unrelated,
yet withal more distant, as if that background claimed her and excluded him.
82. "Nothing? There is you."
83. "Oh, me? But I am here."
84. "I will not go, of course, until you are there."
85. "Will you come? You will find it dull. There isn't even one American there!"
86. "Well--Americans are rather essential to my entertainment."
87. She laughed.
88. "We live on Calle Luz, a little street with trees."
89. "Could I find that?"
90. "If you don't ask for Miss del Valle," she smiled teasingly.
91. "I'll inquire about--"
92. "What?"
93. "The house of the prettiest girl in the town."
94. "There is where you will lose your way." Then she turned serious. "Now, that
is not quite sincere."
95. "It is," he averred slowly, but emphatically.
96. "I thought you, at least, would not say such things."
97. "Pretty--pretty--a foolish word! But there is none other more handy I did not
mean that quite--"
98. "Are you withdrawing the compliment?"
99. "Re-enforcing it, maybe. Something is pretty when it pleases the eye--it is
more than that when--"
100.

"If it saddens?" she interrupted hastily.

101.

"Exactly."

102.

"It must be ugly."

103.

"Always?"

104.
105.
106.

Toward the west, the sunlight lay on the dimming waters in a broad,
glinting streamer of crimsoned gold.
"No, of course you are right."
"Why did you say this is the last time?" he asked quietly as they turned
back.

107.

"I am going home."

108.

The end of an impossible dream!

109.

"When?" after a long silence.

110.

"Tomorrow. I received a letter from Father and Mother yesterday. They

want me to spend Holy Week at home."

111.

She seemed to be waiting for him to speak. "That is why I said this is the
last time."

112.

"Can't I come to say good-bye?"

113.

"Oh, you don't need to!"

114.

"No, but I want to."

115.

"There is no time."

116.

117.
118.
119.

The golden streamer was withdrawing, shortening, until it looked no more

than a pool far away at the rim of the world. Stillness, a vibrant quiet that
affects the senses as does solemn harmony; a peace that is not contentment
but a cessation of tumult when all violence of feeling tones down to the
wistful serenity of regret. She turned and looked into his face, in her dark
eyes a ghost of sunset sadness.
"Home seems so far from here. This is almost like another life."
"I know. This is Elsewhere, and yet strange enough, I cannot get rid of the
old things."
"Old things?"

120.

121.
122.

"Oh, old things, mistakes, encumbrances, old baggage." He said it lightly,

unwilling to mar the hour. He walked close, his hand sometimes touching
hers for one whirling second.
Don Julian's nasal summons came to them on the wind.
Alfredo gripped the soft hand so near his own. At his touch, the girl turned
her face away, but he heard her voice say very low, "Good-bye."
II

123.

ALFREDO Salazar turned to the right where, farther on, the road
broadened and entered the heart of the town--heart of Chinese stores
sheltered under low-hung roofs, of indolent drug stores and tailor shops, of
dingy shoe-repairing establishments, and a cluttered goldsmith's cubbyhole
where a consumptive bent over a magnifying lens; heart of old brick-roofed
houses with quaint hand-and-ball knockers on the door; heart of grass-grown
plaza reposeful with trees, of ancient church and convento, now circled by
swallows gliding in flight as smooth and soft as the afternoon itself. Into the
quickly deepening twilight, the voice of the biggest of the church bells kept
ringing its insistent summons. Flocking came the devout with their long wax
candles, young women in vivid apparel (for this was Holy Thursday and the
Lord was still alive), older women in sober black skirts. Came too the young
men in droves, elbowing each other under the talisay tree near the church
door. The gaily decked rice-paper lanterns were again on display while from
the windows of the older houses hung colored glass globes, heirlooms from a
day when grasspith wicks floating in coconut oil were the chief lighting
device.

124.

Soon a double row of lights emerged from the church and uncoiled down
the length of the street like a huge jewelled band studded with glittering
clusters where the saints' platforms were. Above the measured music rose
the untutored voices of the choir, steeped in incense and the acrid fumes of
burning wax.

125.

The sight of Esperanza and her mother sedately pacing behind Our Lady of
Sorrows suddenly destroyed the illusion of continuity and broke up those
lines of light into component individuals. Esperanza stiffened selfconsciously, tried to look unaware, and could not.

126.
127.

The line moved on.

Suddenly, Alfredo's slow blood began to beat violently, irregularly. A girl
was coming down the line--a girl that was striking, and vividly alive, the

woman that could cause violent commotion in his heart, yet had no place in
the completed ordering of his life.
128.

Her glance of abstracted devotion fell on him and came to a brief stop.

129.

The line kept moving on, wending its circuitous route away from the
church and then back again, where, according to the old proverb, all
processions end.

130.

At last Our Lady of Sorrows entered the church, and with her the priest
and the choir, whose voices now echoed from the arched ceiling. The bells
rang the close of the procession.

131.

A round orange moon, "huge as a winnowing basket," rose lazily into a

clear sky, whitening the iron roofs and dimming the lanterns at the windows.
Along the still densely shadowed streets the young women with their rear
guard of males loitered and, maybe, took the longest way home.

132.

Toward the end of the row of Chinese stores, he caught up with Julia Salas.
The crowd had dispersed into the side streets, leaving Calle Real to those
who lived farther out. It was past eight, and Esperanza would be expecting
him in a little while: yet the thought did not hurry him as he said "Good
evening" and fell into step with the girl.

133.

"I had been thinking all this time that you had gone," he said in a voice
that was both excited and troubled.

134.

"No, my sister asked me to stay until they are ready to go."

135.

"Oh, is the Judge going?"

136.

"Yes."

137.

The provincial docket had been cleared, and Judge del Valle had been
assigned elsewhere. As lawyer--and as lover--Alfredo had found that out long
before.

138.

"Mr. Salazar," she broke into his silence, "I wish to congratulate you."

139.

Her tone told him that she had learned, at last. That was inevitable.

140.

"For what?"

141.

"For your approaching wedding."

142.

Some explanation was due her, surely. Yet what could he say that would
not offend?

143.

"I should have offered congratulations long before, but you know mere
visitors are slow about getting the news," she continued.

144.

He listened not so much to what she said as to the nuances in her voice.
He heard nothing to enlighten him, except that she had reverted to the
formal tones of early acquaintance. No revelation there; simply the old
voice--cool, almost detached from personality, flexible and vibrant,
suggesting potentialities of song.

145.

"Are weddings interesting to you?" he finally brought out quietly

146.

"When they are of friends, yes."

147.

"Would you come if I asked you?"

148.

"When is it going to be?"

149.

"May," he replied briefly, after a long pause.

150.

"May is the month of happiness they say," she said, with what seemed to
him a shade of irony.

151.

"They say," slowly, indifferently. "Would you come?"

152.

"Why not?"

153.

"No reason. I am just asking. Then you will?"

154.

"If you will ask me," she said with disdain.

155.

"Then I ask you."

156.

"Then I will be there."

157.

The gravel road lay before them; at the road's end the lighted windows of
the house on the hill. There swept over the spirit of Alfredo Salazar a longing
so keen that it was pain, a wish that, that house were his, that all the
bewilderments of the present were not, and that this woman by his side were
his long wedded wife, returning with him to the peace of home.

158.

"Julita," he said in his slow, thoughtful manner, "did you ever have to
choose between something you wanted to do and something you had to do?"

159.
160.

"No!"
"I thought maybe you had had that experience; then you could understand
a man who was in such a situation."

161.

"You are fortunate," he pursued when she did not answer.

162.

"Is--is this man sure of what he should do?"

163.

"I don't know, Julita. Perhaps not. But there is a point where a thing
escapes us and rushes downward of its own weight, dragging us along. Then
it is foolish to ask whether one will or will not, because it no longer depends
on him."

164.

"But then why--why--" her muffled voice came. "Oh, what do I know? That
is his problem after all."

165.

"Doesn't it--interest you?"

166.

"Why must it? I--I have to say good-bye, Mr. Salazar; we are at the house."

167.

Without lifting her eyes she quickly turned and walked away.

168.

Had the final word been said? He wondered. It had. Yet a feeble flutter of
hope trembled in his mind though set against that hope were three years of
engagement, a very near wedding, perfect understanding between the
parents, his own conscience, and Esperanza herself--Esperanza waiting,
Esperanza no longer young, Esperanza the efficient, the literal-minded, the
intensely acquisitive.

169.

He looked attentively at her where she sat on the sofa, appraisingly, and
with a kind of aversion which he tried to control.

170.

She was one of those fortunate women who have the gift of uniformly
acceptable appearance. She never surprised one with unexpected
homeliness nor with startling reserves of beauty. At home, in church, on the
street, she was always herself, a woman past first bloom, light and clear of
complexion, spare of arms and of breast, with a slight convexity to thin
throat; a woman dressed with self-conscious care, even elegance; a woman
distinctly not average.

171.

She was pursuing an indignant relation about something or other,

something about Calixta, their note-carrier, Alfredo perceived, so he merely
half-listened, understanding imperfectly. At a pause he drawled out to fill in
the gap: "Well, what of it?" The remark sounded ruder than he had intended.

172.

173.
174.

"She is not married to him," Esperanza insisted in her thin, nervously

pitched voice. "Besides, she should have thought of us. Nanay practically
brought her up. We never thought she would turn out bad."
What had Calixta done? Homely, middle-aged Calixta?
"You are very positive about her badness," he commented dryly. Esperanza
was always positive.

175.

"But do you approve?"

176.

"Of what?"

177.

"What she did."

178.

"No," indifferently.

179.

"Well?"

180.

He was suddenly impelled by a desire to disturb the unvexed orthodoxy of

her mind. "All I say is that it is not necessarily wicked."

181.

"Why shouldn't it be? You talked like an--immoral man. I did not know that
your ideas were like that."

182.

"My ideas?" he retorted, goaded by a deep, accumulated exasperation.

"The only test I wish to apply to conduct is the test of fairness. Am I injuring
anybody? No? Then I am justified in my conscience. I am right. Living with a
man to whom she is not married--is that it? It may be wrong, and again it
may not."

183.

"She has injured us. She was ungrateful." Her voice was tight with
resentment.

184.

"The trouble with you, Esperanza, is that you are--" he stopped, appalled
by the passion in his voice.

185.

"Why do you get angry? I do not understand you at all! I think I know why
you have been indifferent to me lately. I am not blind, or deaf; I see and hear
what perhaps some are trying to keep from me." The blood surged into his
very eyes and his hearing sharpened to points of acute pain. What would she
say next?

186.

"Why don't you speak out frankly before it is too late? You need not think
of me and of what people will say." Her voice trembled.

187.

Alfredo was suffering as he could not remember ever having suffered

before. What people will say--what will they not say? What don't they say
when long engagements are broken almost on the eve of the wedding?

188.

"Yes," he said hesitatingly, diffidently, as if merely thinking aloud, "one

tries to be fair--according to his lights--but it is hard. One would like to be fair
to one's self first. But that is too easy, one does not dare--"

189.

"What do you mean?" she asked with repressed violence. "Whatever my

shortcomings, and no doubt they are many in your eyes, I have never gone
out of my way, of my place, to find a man."

190.

Did she mean by this irrelevant remark that he it was who had sought her;
or was that a covert attack on Julia Salas?

191.

"Esperanza--" a desperate plea lay in his stumbling words. "If you-suppose I--" Yet how could a mere man word such a plea?

192.

"If you mean you want to take back your word, if you are tired of--why
don't you tell me you are tired of me?" she burst out in a storm of weeping
that left him completely shamed and unnerved.

193.

The last word had been said.

III

194.

AS Alfredo Salazar leaned against the boat rail to watch the evening
settling over the lake, he wondered if Esperanza would attribute any
significance to this trip of his. He was supposed to be in Sta. Cruz whither the
case of the People of the Philippine Islands vs. Belina et al. had kept him, and
there he would have been if Brigida Samuy had not been so important to the
defense. He had to find that elusive old woman. That the search was leading
him to that particular lake town which was Julia Salas' home should not
disturb him unduly Yet he was disturbed to a degree utterly out of proportion
to the prosaicalness of his errand. That inner tumult was no surprise to him;
in the last eight years he had become used to such occasional storms. He
had long realized that he could not forget Julia Salas. Still, he had tried to be
content and not to remember too much. The climber of mountains who has
known the back-break, the lonesomeness, and the chill, finds a certain
restfulness in level paths made easy to his feet. He looks up sometimes from
the valley where settles the dusk of evening, but he knows he must not heed
the radiant beckoning. Maybe, in time, he would cease even to look up.

195.

He was not unhappy in his marriage. He felt no rebellion: only the calm of
capitulation to what he recognized as irresistible forces of circumstance and

of character. His life had simply ordered itself; no more struggles, no more
stirring up of emotions that got a man nowhere. From his capacity of
complete detachment he derived a strange solace. The essential himself, the
himself that had its being in the core of his thought, would, he reflected,
always be free and alone. When claims encroached too insistently, as
sometimes they did, he retreated into the inner fastness, and from that
vantage he saw things and people around him as remote and alien, as
incidents that did not matter. At such times did Esperanza feel baffled and
helpless; he was gentle, even tender, but immeasurably far away, beyond
her reach.
196.

Lights were springing into life on the shore. That was the town, a little uptilted town nestling in the dark greenness of the groves. A snub-crested
belfry stood beside the ancient church. On the outskirts the evening
smudges glowed red through the sinuous mists of smoke that rose and lost
themselves in the purple shadows of the hills. There was a young moon
which grew slowly luminous as the coral tints in the sky yielded to the darker
blues of evening.

197.

The vessel approached the landing quietly, trailing a wake of long golden
ripples on the dark water. Peculiar hill inflections came to his ears from the
crowd assembled to meet the boat--slow, singing cadences, characteristic of
the Laguna lake-shore speech. From where he stood he could not distinguish
faces, so he had no way of knowing whether the presidente was there to
meet him or not. Just then a voice shouted.

198.

"Is the abogado there? Abogado!"

199.

"What abogado?" someone irately asked.

200.

That must be the presidente, he thought, and went down to the landing.

201.

It was a policeman, a tall pock-marked individual. The presidente had left

with Brigida Samuy--Tandang "Binday"--that noon for Santa Cruz. Seor
Salazar's second letter had arrived late, but the wife had read it and said,
"Go and meet the abogado and invite him to our house."

202.

Alfredo Salazar courteously declined the invitation. He would sleep on

board since the boat would leave at four the next morning anyway. So the
presidente had received his first letter? Alfredo did not know because that
official had not sent an answer. "Yes," the policeman replied, "but he could
not write because we heard that Tandang Binday was in San Antonio so we
went there to find her."

203.

San Antonio was up in the hills! Good man, the presidente! He, Alfredo,
must do something for him. It was not every day that one met with such
willingness to help.

204.

Eight o'clock, lugubriously tolled from the bell tower, found the boat
settled into a somnolent quiet. A cot had been brought out and spread for
him, but it was too bare to be inviting at that hour. It was too early to sleep:
he would walk around the town. His heart beat faster as he picked his way to
shore over the rafts made fast to sundry piles driven into the water.

205.

How peaceful the town was! Here and there a little tienda was still open,
its dim light issuing forlornly through the single window which served as
counter. An occasional couple sauntered by, the women's chinelas making
scraping sounds. From a distance came the shrill voices of children playing
games on the street--tubigan perhaps, or "hawk-and-chicken." The thought
of Julia Salas in that quiet place filled him with a pitying sadness.

206.

How would life seem now if he had married Julia Salas? Had he meant
anything to her? That unforgettable red-and-gold afternoon in early April
haunted him with a sense of incompleteness as restless as other unlaid
ghosts. She had not married--why? Faithfulness, he reflected, was not a
conscious effort at regretful memory. It was something unvolitional, maybe a
recurrent awareness of irreplaceability. Irrelevant trifles--a cool wind on his
forehead, far-away sounds as of voices in a dream--at times moved him to an
oddly irresistible impulse to listen as to an insistent, unfinished prayer.

207.

A few inquiries led him to a certain little tree-ceilinged street where the
young moon wove indistinct filigrees of fight and shadow. In the gardens the
cotton tree threw its angular shadow athwart the low stone wall; and in the
cool, stilly midnight the cock's first call rose in tall, soaring jets of sound.
Calle Luz.

208.

Somehow or other, he had known that he would find her house because
she would surely be sitting at the window. Where else, before bedtime on a
moonlit night? The house was low and the light in the sala behind her threw
her head into unmistakable relief. He sensed rather than saw her start of
vivid surprise.

209.

"Good evening," he said, raising his hat.

210.

"Good evening. Oh! Are you in town?"

211.

"On some little business," he answered with a feeling of painful constraint.

212.

"Won't you come up?"

213.

He considered. His vague plans had not included this. But Julia Salas had
left the window, calling to her mother as she did so. After a while, someone
came downstairs with a lighted candle to open the door. At last--he was
shaking her hand.

214.

She had not changed much--a little less slender, not so eagerly alive, yet
something had gone. He missed it, sitting opposite her, looking thoughtfully
into her fine dark eyes. She asked him about the home town, about this and
that, in a sober, somewhat meditative tone. He conversed with increasing
ease, though with a growing wonder that he should be there at all. He could
not take his eyes from her face. What had she lost?

215.

Or was the loss his? He felt an impersonal curiosity creeping into his gaze.
The girl must have noticed, for her cheek darkened in a blush.

216.

Gently--was it experimentally?--he pressed her hand at parting; but his

own felt undisturbed and emotionless. Did she still care? The answer to the
question hardly interested him.

217.

The young moon had set, and from the uninviting cot he could see one
half of a star-studded sky.

218.

So that was all over.

219.

Why had he obstinately clung to that dream?

220.

So all these years--since when?--he had been seeing the light of dead
stars, long extinguished, yet seemingly still in their appointed places in the
heavens.

221.

An immense sadness as of loss invaded his spirit, a vast homesickness for

some immutable refuge of the heart far away where faded gardens bloom
again, and where live on in unchanging freshness, the dear, dead loves of
vanished youth.
THE SECOND CREATION
Tiruray also believe that should a religious leader have sufficient wit, power and
goodness, he could lead all of his followers "beyond the sky" to live in the land of Tulus
(or Sualla) . . . In the days of Lagey Lingkuwos (their greatest legendary hero), people
had a difficult time with their farming. They wanted to please Tulus by farming well, but
they were never sure when the winds would be right for burning; they had trouble
predicting the arrival of the rainy season, and thus were unsure when they should plant;
and they lacked a way of calling for the good or bad agricultural omens. Farming was,
therefore, a matter of guess work regarding timing, and the swidden cycle for those

unfortunate people was seldom properly keyed to the yearly seasons as it so clearly
needed to be.
Lagey Lingkuwos was aware of this serious problem and was determined to do
something about it.
Near his place was a settlement where six people lived. They were, like all people,
farmers. And, like all human beings at that time, they were followers of Lagey
Lingkuwos. Three were young unmarried men-all first cousins-whose names were
Kufukufu, Baka, and Seretar. Each lived in his own house, near the houses of their
uncles: the widower, Keluguy, who was the leader of the settlement, and Singkad, the
group's only married man who lived with his wife, Kenogon. As a pet, these people had a
variety of forest dove, which the Tiruray called lemugen.
When it came time for Lagey Lingkuwos to lead his followers to the place of Tulus,
beyond the sky, he asked the special favors of the six people. Knowing that Tulus would
not leave the world without human beings to make swiddens in the forests, and wanting
the next creation to have an easier time than the last, he asked those six followers to leave
their pet bird behind in the forest, where its call could become the needed giver of omens.
He further asked them to live in the sky for as long as there should be a world and people
to farm it. They agreed to both requests of their esteemed leader, and so it is today that
the lemugen's call gives the farmers much needed agricultural omens, and the six
constellations move across the night sky, assisting this new creation of people to properly
anchor their swidden cycle in the annual round of seasons. Tiruray said that the six seem,
like themselves, to be always proceeding to work in their swiddens-the three young
cousins ahead, followed by their uncle and headman. Singkad comes next, prudently
keeping himself between his attractive wife and the splendid Keluguy, whom Tiruray
never refer to by name-that would be too disrespectful-but call by his nickname,
Fegeferafad.

Urbana at Feliza
Ang sumulat ng Urbana at Feliza ay si P. Modesto de Castro na ipinanganak sa Bian, Laguna,
noong unang hati ng ika-19 na dantaon. Nag-aral siya sa Colegio Real de San Jose, naging Kura
sa Catedral ng Maynila at pagkatapos ay sa Naik, Kabite. Bukod sa Urbana at Feliza ay sinulat
din niya ang Plticas Doctrinales (1864), Exposicion de las Siete Palabras en Tagalo, at
Novena a San Isidre en Tagalo, atb. Sa pamamagitan ng Urbana at Feliza ay natagurian
siyang Ama ng Tuluyang Klasika sa Tagalog.

Ang Urbana at Feliza na ang buong pamagat ay Pagsusulatan nang Dalawang Binibini na si
Urbana at si Feliza ay binubuo ng palitan ng liham ng dalawang magkapatid. Ang nakatatanda,
si Urbana, ay nag-aaral sa isang kolehiyo ng mga babae sa Maynila, at ang mas bata, si Feliza, ay
nagnanais na matuto mula sa kaniyang kapatid hinggil sa kung ano ang dapat ugaliin sa ibat
ibang pagkakataon. Binabanggit niya ang mga tukso at panganib sa landas ng kabataan at
sinasabi kung paano maiilagan ang mga ito. Sa Paunawa sa Babasa ng aklat ay ipinaliliwanag
ni P. Modesto de Castro ang nilalaman:
Sa pangalang Urbana mababasa ang magaling na pakikipag-kapwa tao. Sa kanyang mga sulat
sa kapatid na Feliza, ay maka pupulot ang dalaga, maka pag aaral ang bata, maka aaninaw ang
may asawa, maka tataho ang binata nang aral na bagay sa kalagayan nang isa,t, isa.
Kay Feliza, mag aaral ang dalaga nang pag ilag sa panganib na ikasisira nang kalinisan; at ang
kaniyang magandang asal ay magagawang uliran nang ibig mag ingat nang kabaitan at loob na
mataimtiman.
Sa manga sulat ni Urbana, na ukol sa pag tangap nang estado nang matrimonio, ang dalaga ay
makapag aaral, at gayon din ang baguntauo, at makapupulot nang hatol na dapat alinsunorin
bago lumagay sa estado, at kung nasa estado na.
Sa manga sulat ni Feliza kay Urbana, na ang saysay: ay ang magandang asal nang kapatid na
bunso na si Honesto, makapag aaral ang bata, at makatatanto nang kaniyang katungkulan sa
Dios, pagka tanaw nang kaliwanagan nang kanilang bait
Ang mga pangalan ng mga panauhan sa Urbana at Feliza ni P. Modesto de Castro ay mga
sagisag ng aral na nais maparating ng sumulat sa mga mambabasa. Ang pangalang Urbana ay
sagisag ng Urbanidad o kabutihang asal (good manners). Ang pangalang Feliza ay galling sa
Kastilang feliz (maligaya) at ang sinasagisag ay ang kaligayahang natatamo dahil sa
pagpapakabuti at pagka-masunurin. Ang pangalang Honesto ay sagisag ng kalinisang-budi at
karangalan. Sinabi ni P. Modesto de Castro sa aklat na kung ang mga aral ng kaniyang Urbana
at Feliza ay pakinabangan ng mga tao:
Ang wiwikain ko ay pinapalad ako, at ang kahalimbawa ko ay nagsabog nang binhi, ay ang
tinamaan ko ay mabuting lupa.
At sa kinakamtan kong tuwa ang nakakaparis ko ay isang magsasakang kumita nang aliw, uupo
sa isang pilapil, nanonood ng kaniyang halaman, at sa kaniyang palayan na parang inaalon sa
hirap nang hangin, at sa bungang hinog na anak ay butil na gintong nagbitin sa uhay, ay kumita
nang saya.

Munti ang pagod ko, munti ang puyat ko; at palibhasa ay kapus na sa lakas na sukat pagkunan,
ngunit ang pakinabang ko sa pagod at puyat ay na ibayuhan

Carmen Guerrero Nakpil The Filipino woman

Carmen Gurero Nakpil (b. July 19, 1922) is a Filipino journalist, author, historian and public servant.
She was born in Ermita, Manila, into the Guerrero clan of that town, who were painters and poets, as
well as scientists and doctors.
Her paternal grandfather was Leon Maria"Tang ina" Philippine Assembly, who was likewise born in
Ermita, Manila. He was the younger brother of Lorenzo Guerrero, the painter and mentor to Juan
Luna. Dr. Jose P. Bantug referred to Leon Ma. Guerrero as the "Father of Philippine Botany", having
classified and described hundreds of Filipino medicinal plants.
Her maternal grandfather was Gabriel Beato Francisco (b. March 18, 1850), Tagalog writer,
journalist, novelist, playwright, born in Sampalok, then a town independent of Manila. Francisco's
contribution to the development of Tagalog literature lies in the novel. Chronologically considered
his Cababalaghan ni P. Bravo might be regarded as the first novel to be published in Tagalog
literature. (This fact appears to be unknown to students and historians of Tagalog literature, not
mentioned in Inigo Ed. Regalado's Ang Pagkaunlad ng Nobelang Tagalog (1939). Secondly,
Francisco was responsible for introducing the historical genre in the beginning and early
development of the Tagalog novel.[1]
Parents were the prominent doctor Alfredo Guerrero and Filomena Francisco, who was celebrated
as one of the Philippines' first female pharmacists.
She studied at St. Theresa's College, Manila and graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in 1942.
Between 1946 and 2006, she worked as either staff member, editor or editorial columnist at the
Evening News, The Philippines Herald, the Manila Chronicle (where she had a daily column for 12
years), the Manila Times, Asia magazine, and Malaya, in addition to contributing lectures, essays,
short stories to other publications in the Philippines and the rest of the world. She has published a
total of ten books : Woman Enough, A Question of Identity, History Today, The Philippines and the
Filipinos, The Rice Conspiracy (a novel), the Centennial Reader and Whatever; as well as a wildly
successful autobiographical trilogy Myself, Elsewhere; Legends & Adventures; and Exeunt.
In the 1960s, she served as Chairman of the Philippine National Historical Commission and in the
1990s, the Manila Historical Commission, and director-general of the Technology Resource Center

from 1975 to 1985. She was elected to the Executive Board of the UNESCO, Paris in 1983 by
popular vote of the international assembly.
Mrs. Nakpil was married to Lt. Ismael A. Cruz in 1942 and to architect and city planner Angel E.
Nakpil in 1950 and was widowed twice. She has five children, Gemma Cruz Araneta, Ismael G.
Cruz, Ramon Guerrero Nakpil, Lisa Guerrero Nakpil, and Luis Guerrero Nakpil, two step-daughters
Nina Nakpil Campos and Carmina Nakpil Dualan, numerous grandchildren and a few greatgrandchildren. Her family includes her brother, lawyer and diplomat, Len Mara Guerrero, best
known for his translations of Rizal's two novels, Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, as well as
the prize-winning work on Jose Rizal, The First Filipino: her second brother Mario X. Guerrero, was
one of the country's first foreign-trained cardiologists. Other well-known Guerreros include the poet
and revolutionary Fernando Mara Guerrero and Dr. Manuel Guerrero and Dr. Luis Guerrero, both
eminent physicians. Cousin Wilfrido Mara Guerrero was a playwright and stage director.

THE LEGEND OF MOUNT MAYON

There once lived a chieftain in a village in the Province of Albay. He had a daughter named
Magayon who was not only beautiful but was also kind to rich and poor alike.
Because of Magayons beauty and kindness, she had many suitors who vied for her love. The
suitor she fell in love with was a young named Matapang. His father was one of the fighters of
Magayons father. Since Matapang was not of noble birth, Magayons father did not favor of him
as a suitor of her daughter. But this did not prevent her from accepting Matapang.
Another of Magayons suitors was Maraut., a son of another chieftain who ruled a neighboring
village. He was overbearing and boastful and because his parents were rich and powerful,
Magayons father favored him among all the suitors. Magayon was not happy over her fathers
decision. She went to Matapang and told him about it. So the two lovers thought of was by which
they might solve the problem.
After considering the matter for some time, Magayon and Matapang Decided that the best
solution to the problem was for them to elope. They agreed on a certain date for carrying out
their plan. Magayon told her lover that on the night of the appointed date, he should wait for her
near the river.
The lovers didnt know that Maraut was able to learn of their plan. Without delay, Maraut went
to Magayons father and informed him of what Magayon and Matapang intended to do.

On the night of the appointed date, Matapang returned and, as agreed upon, he waited for
Magayon near the river. No sooner had the two lovers met than the men of Magayons father
went after them.
Upon seeing the group of men approaching them, Magayon and Matapang run as fast as they
could to the forest. But since it was dark and they could not see the way very well, they were
overtaken by the men of Magayons father. One warrior hit Matapang with an arrow and the
lover of Magayon fell and died instantly.
Upon seeing her lover fall, Magayon grieved and with tears flowing down her face, she
continued to run. Then she got entangled in a thorny bush which was the abode of fierce and
poisonous snakes. The snakes bit Magayon and, despite the efforts of medicine men to save her,
she died.
Magayons father grieved over his daughters death, and he and his men buried her right on the
spot where she died. Then they went back to the village. That night, a violent storm suddenly
came, and there was rain and thunder and lightning.
When morning came, Magayons father returned to the place where Magayon had been buried.
To his amazement, he saw that the mount on top of Magayons grave had risen to become a
mountain with a perfect cone. The mountain is now called Mount Mayon, in honor of Magayon,
the unfortunate lover of Matapang.