Linggo, Pebrero 27, 2011

"Si AnabeLLa " By: M. Jalandoni

"Si AnabeLLa " By: M. Jalandoni
“SI ANABELLA” ni Magdalena
Jalandoni
Rosario Lucero
Unang inilathala ang maikling kuwentong “Si Anabella” ni
Magdalena Jalandoni sa libro ni Corazon Villareal,
Translating the Sugilanon (1994, 135-141). Kalakip ang
orihinal nito sa isang lupon ng mga makiniladyong maikling kuwento
ni Jalandoni, na pinamagatang Hinugpong nga mga Sugilanon 1936-
1938. Nailathala din ang saling Filipino ni Villareal sa nirebisang
edisyon ng antolohiyang Philippine Literature: A History and
Anthology (1997, 151-154) ni Bienvenido Lumbera.
Sa unang pagsipat ng kuwentong “Si Anabella,” ating iisiping
taglay nito ang pormula ng mga romantikong kuwentong laganap
noong panahong ito’y nasulat, sa pagitan ng mga taong 1936-1938.
Magsisimula ang melodramatikong banghay sa pag-iibigan ng
dalawang magkaiba ng estado sa buhay, hahadlangan ito ng palalong
ina ng mayaman, susubukin ang katapatan ng magkasintahan, aangat
ang estado ng mahirap sa di inaasahang paraan upang sa wakas ay
magsasama uli sila, at magtatagumpay ang kanilang wagas na pag-
ibig.
Sa pagbubuod ni Villareal sa banghay ng kuwento, may
naidagdag siyang ilang detalyeng hindi binabanggit sa kuwento.
Halimbawa, na sumayaw ang magkasintahan sa tahanan ng binata,
at kinainggitan sila ng lahat; na nagsanib ang liwanag ng buwan at
ningning ng bituin sa loob ng isang gabi (1994, 13; aking salin mula
sa Ingles):
4748
“Si Anabella”
Isang pagunitang paglalakbay sa panahon ng dekada
treinta ang kuwentong “Si Anabella.” Isang gabing
maliwanag ang buwan at mga bituin, hinarana ng
binata ang dilag ng kaniyang biyolin. Sa himig ng
isang buong orkestra, sumayaw sila sa malawak na
sala ng malapalasyong tahanan ng binata. Nguni’t
ang binata’y mayaman, at inilayo siya ng kaniyang
ina sa kaniyang pinupusuan. Subalit buong tiyagang
naghintay si Anabella sa pagbabalik nito, at sa wakas
sila ay muling nagsama. (“Anabella” is a nostalgic
trip to the ‘30s. The beau serenades his love with a
violin on a moonlit and starry night, they dance in
the spacious sala of his palatial home to the strains
of a full orchestra, they are the envy of everyone
on the dancefloor. But he is rich and his mother
takes him away from his lover. Anabella, however,
waits patiently for his return and eventually they
are reunited.)
Kung magpatianod ang isang mambabasa sa romantikong
tradisyon, maaari ngang aakalin niyang may taglay itong mga
romantikong sangkap na sa katunayan ay hindi naman makikita sa
kuwento mismo. Hindi naman lubhang mali ang ganitong paraan
ng pagbasa kung ipinapalagay na ang kuwentong “Si Anabella” ay
akmang halimbawa ng isang makaluma’t romantikong kuwento.
Dagdag pa ni Villareal bilang komentaryo sa kuwento (1994, 13):
Maaaring sabihing pinapatibay ng “Si Anabella” ang
puna ng mga manunuri hinggil sa kahinaan ng
panitikang bernakular sa Pilipinas: na ito’y dulot
ng “malagkit na romantisismo,” “walang kaingatan
sa teknik,” pagkabuhaghag ng estruktura,
“didaktisismo,” at “sentimentalismo.” (In a way,
“Anabella” confirms what critics have listed as the
weaknesses of vernacular literature in the
Philippines: “a cloying romanticism,” “

The Happy Hoi PoLLoi By: kerima Polotan Tuvera

The Happy Hoi PoLLoi By: kerima Polotan Tuvera
The Happy Hoi Polloi:
“In the Luneta, all colors blend ‚ the brown and the white and yellow of people; the green and blue and red of shrubs. Towards the sea, the great sward stretches, and the globes of light hang like huge pearls, are caught in the waters of the lake. People flow by, stop and eddy, break and whirl again. Across the pond, a band plays; a balloon breaks loose from some child’s grasp and floats towards an early star. Here, the land lies flat and green, broken only by stone; there, it rises in a series of small hills that hide the curving tips of a pagoda. The doves come, cooing and beating their wings around a man, dressed in a tiger’s suit, and giving away candy. The lovers try not to be conspicuous. A family spreads the contents of a bag — kropeck, juice, biscuits. One mother lies on a mat, unashamedly nursing her baby. On other mats, men and their wives, kicking their heels at the sky. The park guards watch when they can but soon grow weary and give up. The sky is like a canvas washed clean, gray along the edges, and you think, looking over the heads around you, how distant the heat of living is — tonight’s dishes, tomorrow’s bundy clock. Joy is a fitful moment, but better that than nothing.”

Ako ang Daigdig ni Alejandro Abadilla

Ako ang Daigdig ni Alejandro Abadilla

I
ako
ang daigdig

ako
ang tula

ako
ang daigdig
ng tula
ang tula
ng daigdig

ako
ang walang maliw na ako
ang walang kamatayang ako
ang tula ng daigdig

II
ako
ang daigdig ng tula
ako
ang tula ng daigdig

ako ang malayang ako
matapat sa sarili
sa aking daigdig
ng tula

ako
ang tula
sa daidig

ako
ang daigdig
ng tula
ako

III
ako
ang damdaming
malaya

ako
ang larawang
buhay

ako
ang buhay
na walang hanggan

ako
ang damdamin
ang larawan
ang buhay

damdamin
larawan
buhay
tula
ako

IV
ako
ang daigdig
sa tula

ako
ang tula
sa daigdig

ako
ang daigdig

ako
ang tula

daigdig
tula
ako....

The New Yorker in Tondo : A Satiric Comedy Play

The New Yorker in Tondo : A Satiric Comedy Play
"New Yorker in Tondo" is a classic Filipino Play by Marcelino Agana, Jr. It is a satire written in the 50's. It is a story about a girl named Kikay who goes to New York and fell in love with it. She acquires all the New Yorkish things - style, looks, language and manners. These things are very obvious when she arrives in the Philippines specifically in Tondo.

Aling Atang, mother of Kikay, has been carried away by her daughters way of living. She tries to converse with everybody in broken English.

Tony, childhood sweetheart of Kikay, decides to visit and catch things up with her friend. He is a simple guy who got secretly engaged with their other childhood friend, Nena.

Nena is a tomboyish type of girl. On her visit in Kikay's house, she finds her friend different and weird. She gets irritated and even imitates Kikay's ways.

Totoy, the Tondo "canto boy" is their other friend who is funny and has a secret love for Nenan which has only been revealded when the two females had a clash.

Near the end, the secret love of the characters in the story is revealded. And the two pairs end up in each other's arms. Kikay is back to her old self -- simple and kind. Most of all, the Filipino value learned by the protagonist which is "there is no place like home", is a lesson on love of country and its culture.

AnOTHER INVITATION TO THE POPE TO VISIT TONDO (EmManuel TorRes)

Next time your Holiness slums through our lives,
we will try to make our poverty exemplary.
The best is a typhoon month. It never fails
To find us, like charity, knocking on
all sides of the rough arrangements we thrive in.
Mud shall be plenty for the feet of the pious.

We will show uoi how we pull things together
from nowhere, life after life,
prosper with children, whom you love. To be sure,
we shall have more for you to love.

We will show you where the sun leaks on
our sleep,
on the dailiness of piece meals and wages
with their habit of slipping away
from fists that have holes for pockets.

We will show you our latest child with a sore
that never sleeps. When he cries,
the dogs of the afternoon bark without stopping,
and evening darkens early on the mats.

Stay for supper of turnips on our table
since 1946 swollen with the same hard tears.
The buntings over our one and only window
shall welcome a short breeze.

And lead prayers for the family that starves
and stays together. If we wear roasries round
our nexks
it is not because they never bruise our fingers,
(Pardon if we doze on a dream of Amen.)

But remember to remember to reward us
with something . . . more lush, greener than all
the lawns of memorial parks singing together.
Our eyes shall belss the liveliness of dollars.

Shed no tears, please, for the brown multitudes
who thicken on chance and feast on leftovers
as the burning garbage smuts the sky of Manila
pile after pile after pile.

Fear not. Now there are only surreal assassins
about who dream of your death in the shape
of a flowering kris.

Gabi ng iSang piYon (Lamberto E. Antonio)

Gabi ng iSang piYon (Lamberto E. Antonio)


Paano ka makakatulog?
Iniwan man ng mga palad mo ang pala,
Martilyo, tubo’t kawad at iba pang kasangkapan,
Alas-singko’y hindi naging hudyat upang
Umibis ang graba’t semento sa iyong hininga.
Sa karimlan mo nga lamang maaaring ihabilin
Ang kirot at silakbo ng iyong himaymay:
Mga lintos, galos, hiwa ng daliri braso’t utak
Kapag binabanig na ang kapirasong playwud,
Mga kusot o supot-semento sa ulilang
Sulok ng gusaling nakatirik.
Binabalisa ka ng paggawa —
(Hindi ka maidlip kahit sagad-buto ang pagod mo)
Dugo’t pawis pang lalangkap
Sa buhangin at sementong hinahalo na kalamnang
Itatapal mo sa bakal na mga tadyang:
Kalansay na nabubuong dambuhala mula
Sa pagdurugo mo bawat saglit; kapalit
Ang kitang di-maipantawid-gutom ng pamilya,
Pag-asam sa bagong kontrata at dalanging paos.
Paano ka matutulog kung sa bawat paghiga mo’y
Unti-unting nilalagom ng bubungang sakdal-tayog
Ang mga bituin? Maaari ka nga lamang
Mag-usisa sa dilim kung bakit di umiibis
Ang graba’t ‘semento sa iyong hininga...
Kung nabubuo sa guniguni mo maya’t maya
Na ikaw ay mistulang bahagi ng iskapold
Na kinabukasa’y babaklasin mo rin.

Ang mga KAGILA-GILALAS na PAKIKIPAGSAPALARAN ni JUAN dela CRUZ ni Jose F. Lacaba

Ang mga KAGILA-GILALAS na
PAKIKIPAGSAPALARAN ni JUAN dela CRUZ
ni Jose F. Lacaba

Isang gabing madilim
puno ng pangambang sumakay sa bus
si Juan de la Cruz
pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
BAWAL MANIGARILYO BOSS
sabi ng konduktora
at minura
si Juan de la Cruz.

Pusturang-pustura
kahit walang laman ang bulsa
nilakad ni Juan de la Cruz
ang buong Avenida
BAWAL PUMARADA
sabi ng kalsada
BAWAL UMIHI DITO
sabi ng bakod
kaya napagod
si Juan de la Cruz.

Nang abutan ng gutom
si Juan de la Cruz
tumapat sa Ma Mon Luk
inamoy ang mami siopao lumpia pansit
hanggang sa mabusog.
Nagdaan sa Sine Dalisay
Tinitigan ang retrato ni Chichay
PASSES NOT HONORED TODAY
sabi ng takilyera
tawa nang tawa.

Dumalaw sa Konggreso
si Juan de la Cruz
MAG-INGAT SA ASO
sabi ng diputado
Nagtuloy sa Malakanyang
wala naming dalang kamanyang
KEEP OFF THE GRASS
sabi ng hardinero
sabi ng sundalo
kay Juan de la Cruz.
Nang dapuan ng libog
si Juan de la Cruz
namasyal sa Culiculi
at nahulog sa pusali
parang espadang bali-bali
YOUR CREDIT IS GOOD BUT WE NEED CASH
sabi ng bugaw
sabay higop ng sabaw.

Pusturang-pustura
Kahit walang laman ang bulsa
naglibot sa Dewey
si Juan de la Cruz
PAN-AM BAYSIDE SAVOY THEY SATISFY
sabi ng neon.
Humikab ang dagat na parang leon
masarap sanang tumalon pero
BAWAL MAGTAPON NG BASURA
sabi ng alon.

Nagbalik sa Quiapo
si Juan de la Cruz
at medyo kinakabahan
pumasok sa simbahan
IN GOD WE TRUST
sabi ng Obispo
ALL OTHERS PAY CASH.

Nang wala nang malunok
si Juan de la Cruz
dala-dala'y gulok
gula-gulanit na ang damit
wala pa ring laman ang bulsa
umakyat
sa Arayat
ang namayat
na si Juan de la Cruz.
WANTED DEAD OR ALIVE
sabi ng PC
at sinisi
ang walanghiyang kabataan
kung bakit sinulsulan
ang isang tahimik na mamamayan
na tulad ni Juan de la Cruz

RegLa sa BuwaN ng hunYo (R. MabangLo)

RegLa sa BuwaN ng hunYo (R. MabangLo)
Pagbigyan ang pwersang ito:
lakas na umaahon sa sinapupunan,
init na sumusubo, dumadaloy, umiigkas,
kusang lumalaya't lumalayaw
kahit na sinusupil,
dumadanak at bumabakas
hatdan man ng hilahil.

Pagbigyan ang pwersang ito--
ito:
kabuuan ng lahat kong pagkatao,
kabuuan ng kaibhan ko't pagkakatulad
sa lahat ng tao,
kabuuan ng naimpok kong alaala't
ginagastang kasalukuyan
kabuuan ng kinabukasang isinasanla
sa kalendaryo.

Pagbigyan ang pwersang ito--
hayaang magmapa sa talaan
ng utang ko't pautang,
hayaang maglimbag ng sagutin ko't
pananagutan:
sa sarili, sa angkan at sa lipunan:
hayaang magbadya
ng karaingan ko't pangangailangan,
ngayon,
habang nilalason ng maraming kabaro
ang itlog at semilya
at binubulok naman ng iba
sa sansupot na goma
ang bunga ng pag-ibig at pagtatalik.
Ay, anong kilusan, martsa't litanya
upang mapuksa ang sanggol
nang buong laya?
Ilang liblib na klinika, basurahan at
kubeta
ang pag-iimbakan ng kapusuka't sala?
Kahit ang ampunang nagbobodega
ng pananagutang itinatwa
may sumbat ng kalikasang
di matatakasan.

Pagbigyan ang pwersang ito--
ismiran ang humuhugot na kirot,
batahin ang hagupit
habang tinatanggap, tinatanggap
ang katuturang
pumapaso sa pagtigmak.

Ito ang pagtagay sa Hunyo
sa kalis ko--
nobya,
asawa,
kerida,
o kahit ng bayarang tagapagpaligaya:
ito ang testamento, ang kontrata, ang
sumpa:
ito ang saligan,
ang kahulugan at kahungkagan
ng buhay at pag-iral.
Pagbigyan,
ito,
ang agos ng madlang pagsulong--
hininga ng pag-asa
ang namimilapil dito.

Indarapatra and Sulayman

Indarapatra and Sulayman
this epic was all about the fight of King Indarapatra's brother Sulayman,to the monsters. And this is the except of the epic:
A long, long time ago, Mindanao was covered with water, and the sea cover all the lowlands so that nothing could be seen but the mountains jutting from it. There were many people living in the country and all the highlands were dotted with villages and settlements. For many years the people prospered, living in peace and contentment. Suddenly there appeared in the land four horrible monsters which, in short time has devoured every human being they could find.
Kurita, a terrible creature with many limbs, lived partly on the land and partly on sea, but its favorite haunt was the mountain where the rattan palm grew; and here it brought utter destruction on every living thing. The second monster, Tarabusaw, an ugly creature in the form of a man, lived on Mt. Matutum, and far and wide from that place he devoured the people, laying waste the land. The third, an enormous bird called Pah, was so large that, when on the wing, it covered the sun and brought darkness to the earth. Its egg was as large as a house. Mt. Bita was its haunt; and there the only people who escaped its voracity were those who hid in the mountain caves. The fourth monster was also a dreadful bird, having seven heads and the power to see in all directions at the same time. Mt. Gurayan was its home and like the others, it wrought havoc to its region.
So great was the death and destruction caused by these terrible creatures that at length, the news spread even to the most distant lands - and all nations grieved to hear the sad fate of Mindanao.
Now far across the sea, in the land of the golden sunset, was a city so great that to look at its many people would injure the eyes of men. When tidings of these great disasters reached this distant city, the heart of King Indarapatra was filled with compassion, and he called his brother, Sulayman, and begged hem to save the land of Mindanao from the monsters.
Sulayman listened to the story and as heard it, was moved with pity. "I will go", zeal and enthusiasm adding to his strength, "and the land shall be avenged," said he.
King Indarapatra, proud of his brother's courage, gave him a ring and a sword as he wished him success and safety. Then he placed a young sapling by his window and said to Sulayman "By this tree I shall know your fate from the hour you depart from here, for if you live, it will live; but if you die, it will die also."
So Sulayman departed for Mindanao, and he neither waded nor used a boat, but went through the air and landed on the mountain where the rattan grew. There he stood on the summit and gazed about on all sides. He looked on the land and the villages, but he could see no living thing. And he was very sorrowful and cried out: "Alas, how pitiful and dreadful is this devastation."
No sooner had Sulayman uttered those words than the whole mountain began to move and then shook. Suddenly out of the ground came the horrible creature Kurita. It sprng at the man and sank its claws at his flesh. But, Sulayman knowing at once that this was the scourge of the land, drew his sword and cut Kurita to pieces.
Encourage by his first success, Sulayman went on to Mt. Matutum, where conditions were even worse. As he stood on the heights viewing the great devastation, there was a noise in the forest and a movement in the trees. With a loud yell, Tarabusaw forth leaped. For the moment they looked at each other, neither showing any sign of fear. Then Tarabusaw used all his powers to try to devour Sulayman, who fought back. For a long time, the battle continued, until at last, the monster fell exhausted to the ground and Sulayman killed him with his sword.
The nest place visited by Sulayman was Mt. Bita. Here havoc was present everywhere, and though he passed by many homes, he saw that not a single soul was left. As he walked, sudden darkness fell over the land, startling him. As he looked toward the sky he beheaded a great bird that swooped upon him. Immediately he struck, and the bird fell dead at his feet; but the wing fell on Sulayman and he was crushed.
Now at this very time King Indarapatra was sitting at his window, and looking out he saw the little tree wither and dry up.
"Alas!" he cried, "my brother is dead" and he wept bitterly.
Then although he was very sad, he was filled with a desire for revenge. Putting on his sword and belt, he started for Mindanao, in search for his brother.
He, too, traveled through the air with great speed until he came to the mountain where the rattan grew. There he looked about, awed at the great destruction, and when she saw the bones of Kurita he knew that his brother had been there. He went on till he came to Matutum, and when he saw the bones of Tarabusaw, he knew that this, too, was the work of Sulayman.
Still searching for his brother, he arrived at Mt. Bita, where the dead bird lay on the ground, and when he lifted the severed wing he beheld the bones of Sulayman with his sword biy his side. His grief now so overwhelmed Indarapatra that he wept for some time. Upon looking up, he beheld a small jar of water by his side. This, he knew had been sent from the heaven, and he poured the water over the bones, and Sulayman, came to life again. They greeted each other and talked animatedly for great length of time. Sulayman declared that he had not been dead but asleep, and their hearts were full of joy.
After some time Sulayman returned his distant home, but Indarapatra continued his journey to Mt. Gurayan where killed the dreadful bird with the seven heads. After these monsters had all been killed, peace and safety had been restored to the land: Indarapatra began searching everywhere to see if some of the people who hid in the earth were still alive.
One day, in the course of his search, he caught sight of a beautiful woman at a distance. When he hastened toward her she disappeared through a hole in the ground where she stood. Disappointed and tried, he sat down on a rock to rest when, looking about, he saw near him a pot uncooked rice with a big fire on the ground in front of it. This revived him and he proceeded to cook the rice. As he did so, however, he heard someone laugh near by, and turning he beheld an old woman watching him. As he greeted her, she drew near and talked to him while he ate the rice.
Of all the people in the land, the woman told him, only few were left, and they hid in a cave in the ground from whence they never ventured to come out. As for herself and her old husband, she went on, they had hidden in a hollow tree, and this they had never dared to leave until Sulayman killed the voracious bird Pah.
At Indarapatra's request, the old woman led him to one such cave. There he met the headmen with his family and some people. They all gathered about the stranger, asking many questions, for this was the first time they had heard about the death of the monsters. When they found out what Indarapatra had done for them, the headman gave his daughter to him in marriage, and she proved to be beautiful girl whom Indarapatra had seen at the mouth of the cave.
Then the people all came out of their hiding places and returned to their homes where they lived in peace and happiness. And the sea withdrew from the land and gave the lowlands to the people.

The smaLL Key ( bY: Paz Latorena)

The smaLL Key ( bY: Paz Latorena)



It was very warm. The sun, up above a sky that was all blue and tremendous and beckoning to birds ever on the wing, shone bright as if determined to scorch everything under heaven, even the low, square nipa house that stood in unashamed relief against the gray green haze of grass and leaves.

It was a lonely dwelling, located far from its neighbors, which were huddled close to one another as if for mutual comfort, it was flanked on both sides by tall, slender bamboo tress which rustled plaintively under a gentle wind.

On the porch a woman past her early twenties stood regarding the scene before her with eyes made incurious by its familiarity. All around her the land stretched endlessly, it seemed, and vanished into the distance there were dark newly plowed furrows where in due time timorous seedlings would give rise to study stalks and golden grain, to a ripping yellow sea in the wind and sun during harvest time.

Promise of plenty and reward for hard toil! With a sigh of discontent, however, the woman turned and entered a small dining room where a man sat over a belated midday meal.

Pedro Buhay, a prosperous farmer, looked up from his plate and smiled at his wife as she stood framed by the doorway, the sunlight glinting on her dark hair, which was drawn back, without a relenting wave, from a rather prominent and austere brow.

"Where are the shirts I ironed yesterday?" she asked as she approached the table.

"In my trunk, I think" he answered.

"Some of them need darning" and observing the empty plate, she added, "do you want some more rice?"

"No" hastily, "I am in a hurry to get back. We must finish plowing the south field today because tomorrow is Sunday."

Pedro pushed the chair back and stood up. Soledad began to pile the dirty dishes one on top of the other.

"Here is the key to my trunk" from the pocket of his khaki coat he pulled a string of nondescript red, which held together a big shiny key and another small, rather rusty - looking one.

With deliberate care he untied the knot, and, detaching the big key, dropped the small one back into his pocket. She watched him fixedly as he did this. The smile left her face and strange look came into her eyes as she look the big key from him without a word together they left the dining room.

Out on the porch, he put an arm around her shoulder and peered into her shadowed face.

"You look pale and tired", he remarked softly. "What have you been doing all morning?"

"Nothing," she said listlessly, "but the heat gives me a headache."

"Then lie down and try to sleep while I am gone." For a moment they looked deep into each other's eyes.

"It is really warm," he continued. "I think I will take off my coat."

He removed the garment absent-mindedly and handed it to her. The stairs creaked under his weight as he went down.

"Choleng" he turned his head as he opened the gate, "I shall pass by Tia Maria's house and tell her to come, I may not return before dark."

Soledad nodded. Her eyes followed her husband down the road, noting the fine set of his head and shoulders, the ease of his stride. A strange ache rose in her throat.

She looked at the coat he had handed to her. It exuded a faint smell of his favorite cigars, one of which he invariably smoked, after the day's work, on his way home from fields. Mechanically, she began to fold the garment.

As she was doing so, a small object fell o the floor with a dull, metallic sound. Soledad stooped down and picked it up. It was the small key! She started at it in her palm as if she had never seen before. Her mouth was tightly drawn and for a while she looked almost old.

She passes into the small bedroom and tossed the coat carelessly on the back of a chair. She opened the window and the early afternoon sunshine flooded in. On a mat spread on the bamboo floor were some newly washed garments.

She began to fold them one by one in feverish haste, as if seeking in the task

Of the moment a refuge from painful thoughts. But her eyes moved restlessly around the room until they rested almost furtively on a small trunk that was half concealed by a rolled mat in a dark corner.

It was a small, old trunk, without anything on the outside that might arouse one's curiosity. But it held the things she had come to hate with unnecessary anguish and pain, and threatened to destroy all that was most beautiful between her and her husband!

Soledad came across a torn garment. She threaded a needle but after a few uneven stitches she pricked her finger and a crimson drop stained the white garment. Then she saw she had been mending on the wrong way.

"What is the matter with me?" she asked herself aloud as she pulled the thread with nervous and impatient fingers.

What did it matter if her husband chose to keep the clothes of his first wife?

"She is dead now, anyhow, she is dead." She repeated to herself over and over again.

The sound of her own voice calmed her. She tried to thread the needle once more. But she could not, for the tears had come unbidden and completely blinded her.

"My God," she cried with a sob "make me forget Indo's face as he put the small key back into his pocket"

She brushed her tears with a sleeve of her camisa and abruptly stood up. The heat was stifling, and the silence in the house was beginning to be unendurable.

She looked out of the window. she wondered what was keeping Tia Maria Perhaps Pedro has forgotten to pass by her house in his hurry. She could picture him out there in the south field gazing far and wide at the newly plowed land, with no thought in his mind but work. Work. For. To the people of the barrio whose patron saint, San Isidro Labrador, smiled on them with benign eyes from his crude altar in the little chapel up the hill, this season was a prolonged hour of passion during which they were blind and deaf to everything but the demands of the land.

During the next half hour, Soledad wandered in and out of the rooms, in an effort to seek escape from her own thoughts and to fight down an overpowering impulse. Tia Maria would only come and talk to her to divert her thoughts to other channels!

But the expression of her husband's face as he put the small key back into his pocket kept torturing her like a nightmare, goading her beyond endurance. Then, with all resistance to the impulse gone, she was kneeling before the small trunk. With a long drawn breath she inserted the small key. There was unpleasant, metallic sound for the key had not been used for a long time and it was rusty.

II

That evening Pedro Buhay hurried home with the usual cigar dangling from his mouth, please with himself and the tenants because the work in the south field has been finished. He was met by Tia maria at the gate and was told by her that Soledad was in bed with a fever.

"I shall go to town and bring Dr.Santos," he decided, his cool hand on his wife's brow.

Soledad opened her eyes.

"Don't Indo," she begged with a vague terror in her eyes which he took for anxiety for him because the town was pretty far and the road was dark and deserted by that hour of the night. "I shall be all right tomorrow."

Pedro returned an hour later, very tired and rather worried. The doctor was not at home. But the wife had promised to send him to Pedro's house as soon as he came in.

Tia Maria decided to remain for the night. But it was Pedro who stayed up to watch over the sick woman. He was puzzled and worried - more than he cared to admit. It was true that Soledad had not looked very well when he left her early that that afternoon. Yet, he thought, the fever was rather sudden. He was afraid it might be a symptom of a serious illness.

Soledad was restless the whole night. She tossed from one side to another, but towards morning she fell into some sort of troubled sleep. Pedro then lay down to snatch a few winks.

He woke up to find the soft morning sunshine streaming through the half opened window, playing on the sleeping face of his wife. He got up without making any noise. His wife was now breathing evenly. A sudden rush of tenderness came over him at the sight of her - so slight, so frail.

Tia Maria was nowhere to be seen, but that did not bother him for it was Sunday and work in the south field was finished. However, he missed the pleasant aroma which came from the kitchen every time he woke up early in the morning.

The kitchen looked neat but cheerless, and an immediate search for wood brought no results. So, shouldering an ax, Pedro descended the rickety stairs that led to the backyard.

The morning was clear and the breeze soft and cool. Pedro took in a breath of air. It was good - it smell of trees, of the rice fields, of the land he loved.

He found a pile of logs under the young mango tree near the house, and began to chop. He swung the ax with rapid clean sweeps, enjoying the feel of the smooth wooden handle in his palms.

As he stopped for a while to mop his brow, his eye caught the remnants of a smudge that had been built in the backyard.

"Ah!" he muttered to himself. "She swept that yard yesterday after I left her. That coupled with the heat must have given her a headache and then the fever."

The morning breeze stirred the ashes and a piece of white cloth fluttered into view.

Pedro dropped his ax. It was a half - burnt panuelo. Somebody had been burning clothes. He examined the slightly ruined garment closely. A puzzled expression came into his eyes. First it was doubt groping for truth, then amazement, and finally agonized incredulity passed across his face. He almost ran back to the house. In three strides he was upstairs. He found his coat hanging from the back of a chair

Cautiously he entered the room. The heavy breathing of his wife told him that she was still sleep. As he stood by the small trunk, a vague distance to open it assailed him. Surely, he must be mistaken. She could not have done it, she could not have done that…that foolish…

Resolutely he opened trunk. It was empty.

It was nearby noon when the doctor arrived. He felt Soledad's pulse and asked questions which she answered in monosyllables.

Pedro stood by listening to the whole procedure with an expression when the doctor told him by the gate that nothing was really wrong with his wife although she seemed to be worried about something. The physician merely prescribed a day of complete test.

Pedro lingered on the porch after the doctor had mouthed his horse and galloped away. He was trying not to be angry with his wife. He hoped it would be just an interlude that could be recalled without bitterness. She would explain sooner or later, she would be repentant, perhaps she would even try to convince him that shi had done it because she loved him. And he would listen and eventually forgive her for she was young always remain a shadow in their lives.

Ambon,Ulan, Baha By: Frank Rivera

Ambon,Ulan, Baha By: Frank Rivera
AMBON ULAN BAHA” is a two-hour ethno-rock modern zarzuela that showcases twenty original musical scores inspired by kundiman, balitaw, ethnic and modern musical trends with choreography based on ethnic, folk/traditional and creative dances


An original production of the celebrated Mindanao State University –Sining Kambayoka ( founded by Theater Artist Frank G. Rivera ) in 1978, “ Ambom…” was remounted by Teatro Metropolitano through NCCA Grant in 1992, also at the helm of Rivera.
This long –time running musical which predicted the Ormoc tragedy in 1991, highlights environmental concerns and focuses on the preservation of Philippine forests. It also deals heavily on Filipino values, the importance of education, religion, family and youth. It also carries relevant commentaries on socio-economic and political issues of the times. It aims to educate its audiences especially the youth about issues of urgent and national importance To – date, ARNAI’s “ Ambon, Ulan, Baha” has been sponsored by several organizations and institutions and has seen more than 500 performances. The zarzuela’s success in depicting the Filipino lives after almost three decades after it was first staged, proved its timelessness and its relevance to the evolutions of Philippine Theater.
Its music, inspired by folk/traditional songs like balitaw and kundiman, formerly considered provincial “ bakya “ , and unsophisticated as compared to “mainstream” of legitimate theater, proved to be good venue for improvisation and fusion, thus exploring and experimenting for new forms.
Its dances: a fusion of folk/traditional, modern and creative movements showcase creative interpretation of the play’s songs and scene.

Another work of Jose viLLa 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 let it to its shed and fed it. He was hesitant about saying it, but he wanted his father to know. What he had to say was of serious import as it would mark a climacteric in his life. Dodong finally decided to tell it, at a thought came to him his father might refuse to consider it. His father was silent hard-working farmer who chewed areca nut, which he had learned to do from his mother, Dodong's grandmother.

I will tell it to 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 worms emerged from the furrows and then burrowed again deeper into the soil. A short colorless worm marched blindly to Dodong's foot and crawled calmly over it. Dodong go tickled and jerked his foot, flinging the worm into the air. Dodong did not bother to look where it fell, but thought of his age, seventeen, and he said to himself he was not young any more.

Dodong unhitched the carabao leisurely and gave 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 land the carabao began to eat. Dodong looked at it without interests.

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, the down on his upper lip already 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 statue. Thinking himself a 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 you dreams of himself and Teang. 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 dream even during the day.

Dodong tensed with desire and looked at the muscles of his arms. Dirty. This field
work was healthy, invigorating but it begrimed you, smudged you terribly. He turned back the way he had come, then he marched obliquely to a creek.

Dodong stripped himself and laid his clothes, a gray undershirt and red kundiman shorts, on the grass. The 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 already was lighted and the low unvarnished square table was set for supper. His parents and he sat down on the floor around the table to eat. They had fried fresh-water fish, rice, bananas, and caked sugar.

Dodong ate fish and rice, but did not partake of the fruit. The bananas were overripe and when one held them they felt more fluid than solid. Dodong broke off a piece of the cakes 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 parents.

Dodong's mother removed the dishes when they were through and went out to the batalan to wash them. She walked with slow careful steps and Dodong wanted to help her carry the dishes out, but he was tired and now felt 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 he had to say, and over which he had done so much thinking. He had said it without any effort at all and without self-consciousness. Dodong felt relieved and looked at his father expectantly. A decrescent moon outside shed its feeble light into the window, graying the still black temples of his father. His father looked old now.

"I am going to marry Teang," Dodong said.

His father looked at him silently and stopped sucking the broken tooth. The silence became intense and cruel, and Dodong wished his father would suck that troublous tooth again. Dodong was uncomfortable and then became 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 inflexible 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 impatient clamor in his voice, an exacting protest at this coldness, this indifference. Dodong looked at his father sourly. He cracked his knuckles one by one, and the little sounds it made broke dully the night stillness.

"Must you marry, Dodong?"

Dodong resented his father's questions; his father himself had married. Dodong made a quick impassioned easy in his mind about selfishness, but later he got confused.

"You are very young, Dodong."

"I'm... seventeen."

"That's very young to get married at."

"I... I want to marry...Teang's a good girl."

"Tell your mother," his father said.

"You tell her, tatay."

"Dodong, you tell your inay."

"You tell her."

"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 father's eyes. Dodong did not read it, so absorbed was he in himself.

Dodong was immensely glad he had asserted himself. He lost his resentment for his father. For a while he even felt sorry for him about the diseased tooth. Then he confined his mind to dreaming of Teang and himself. Sweet young dream....

-------------------------------------------

Dodong stood in the sweltering noon heat, sweating profusely, so that his camiseta was damp. He was still as a tree and his thoughts were confused. His mother had told him not to leave the house, but he had left. He had wanted to get out of it without clear reason at all. He was afraid, he felt. Afraid of the house. It had seemed to cage him, to compares his thoughts with severe tyranny. Afraid also of Teang. Teang was giving birth in the house; she gave screams that chilled his blood. He did not want her to scream like that, he seemed to be rebuking him. 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 comfortable... "Your son," people would soon be telling him. "Your son, Dodong."

Dodong felt tired standing. He sat down on a saw-horse with his feet close together. He looked at his callused toes. Suppose he had ten children... What made him think that? What was the matter with him? God!

He heard his mother's voice from the house:

"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 had taken something no properly his. He dropped his eyes and pretended to dust dirt off his kundiman shorts.

"Dodong," his mother called again. "Dodong."

He turned to look again and this time 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. What a moment for him. His parents' eyes seemed to pierce him through and he felt limp.

He wanted to hide from them, to run away.

"Dodong, you come up. You come up," he mother said.

Dodong did not want to come up and stayed in the sun.

"Dodong. Dodong."

"I'll... come up."

Dodong traced 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 untrue. 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.

His father thrust his hand in his and gripped it gently.

"Son," his father said.

And his mother: "Dodong..."

How kind were their voices. They flowed into him, making him strong.

"Teang?" Dodong said.

"She's sleeping. But you go on..."

His father led him into the small sawali room. Dodong saw Teang, his girl-wife, asleep on the papag with her black hair soft 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 parents he did not want to be demonstrative.

The hilot was wrapping the child, Dodong heard it cry. The thin voice pierced him queerly. 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 Dodong's 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 the coming of children could not be helped. Dodong got angry with himself sometimes.

Teang did not complain, but the bearing of children told on her. She was shapeless and thin now, even if she was young. There was interminable work to be done. Cooking. Laundering. The house. The children. She cried sometimes, wishing she had not 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 has been another suitor, Lucio, older than Dodong by nine years, and that was why she had chosen Dodong. Young Dodong. Seventeen. Lucio had married another after her marriage to Dodong, but he was childless until now. She wondered if she had married Lucio, would she have borne him children. Maybe not, either. That was a better lot. But she loved Dodong...

Dodong whom life had made ugly.

One night, as he lay beside his wife, he rose and went out of the house. He stood in the moonlight, tired and querulous. He wanted to ask questions and somebody to answer him. He w anted to be wise about many things.

One of them was why life did not fulfill all of Youth's dreams. Why it must be so. Why one was forsaken... after Love.

Dodong would not find the answer. Maybe the question was not to be answered. It must be so to make youth Youth. Youth must be dreamfully sweet. Dreamfully sweet. Dodong returned to the house humiliated by himself. He had wanted to know a little wisdom but was denied it.

When Blas was eighteen he came home one night very flustered and happy. It was late at night and Teang and the other children were asleep. Dodong heard Blas's steps, for he could not sleep well of nights. He watched Blas undress in the dark and lie down softly. Blas was restless on his mat and could not sleep. Dodong called him name and asked why he did not sleep. Blas said he could not sleep.

"You better go to sleep. It is late," Dodong said.

Blas raised himself on his elbow and muttered something in a low fluttering voice.

Dodong did not answer and tried to sleep.

"Itay ...," Blas called softly.

Dodong stirred and asked him what it was.

"I am going to marry Tona. She accepted me tonight."

Dodong lay on the red pillow without moving.

"Itay, you think it over."

Dodong lay silent.

"I love 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. 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's voice stilled with resentment. "I will marry Tona."

Dodong kept silent, hurt.

"You have objections, Itay?" Blas asked acridly.

"Son... n-none..." (But truly, God, I don't want Blas to marry yet... not yet. I don't want Blas to marry yet....)

But he was helpless. He could not do anything. Youth must triumph... now. Love must triumph... now. Afterwards... 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.

THE BOY WHO BECAME A STONE

THE BOY WHO BECAME A STONE

Tinguian

One day a little boy named Elonen sat out in the yard making a bird snare, and as he worked, a little bird called to him: "Tik-tik-lo-den" (come and catch me).
"I am making a snare for you," said the boy; but the bird continued to call until the snare was finished.
Then Elonen ran and threw the snare over the bird and caught it, and he put it in a jar in his house while he went with the other boys to swim.
While he was away, his grandmother grew hungry, so she ate the bird, and when Elonen returned and found that his bird was gone, he was so sad that he wished he might go away and never come back. He went out into the forest and walked a long distance, until finally he came to a big stone and said: "Stone, open your mouth and eat me." And the stone opened its mouth and swallowed the boy.
When his grandmother missed the boy, she went out and looked everywhere, hoping to find him. Finally she passed near the stone and it cried out, "Here he is." Then the old woman tried to open the stone but she could not, so she called the horses to come and help her. They came and kicked it, but it would not break. Then she called the carabao and they hooked it, but they only broke their horns. She called the chickens, which pecked it, and the thunder, which shook it, but nothing could open it, and she had to go home without the boy.

.Si Malakas at si Maganda

Si Malakas at si Maganda (The Strong and Beautiful)
This is a very popular folk tale in the country and has varied details in different provinces all over t
he Philipines. Nevertheless, i would like to share the essence of the story to all those who want to read and go back to the stories of our yesteryears.
This story was made by ancient filipinos in order to explain the mystery of the origin of humankind. According to this folk tale, there was nothing in the world but the sea, the sky, a piece of land, a bamboo tree, and a bird. The bird was on the bamboo and heard sounds in a couple of bamboo trees so it tried to break the bamboo trees through its beak. After sometime, the bamboo trees broke and a man and a woman came out. The man was called Malakas, and the woman, Maganda. They then started a family and produced children who filled the archipelago.
The name Malakas and Maganda also denote a deeper meaning and truth about Filipino culture. Filipinos consider women to be maganda or beautiful,sweet, and soft; while men as malakas or strong and sturdy human being to whom the family can depend on at all times especially in times of trouble and disasters in life...

Gagamba bY; Sionil Jose

GAGAMBA, the cripple, sells sweepstakes tickets the whole day at the entrance to Camarin, the Ermita restaurant. He sees them all—the big men, politicians, journalists, generals, landlords, and the handsome call-girls who have made Camarin famous. In mid-July 1990, a killer earthquake struck and entombed all the beautiful people dining at the Camarin. Gagamba could have easily gotten killed—but he survived the earthquake, as do two other lucky people who were buried in the rubble.

As told by the Philippines’ most widely translated author, this novel raises a fundamental question about life’s meaning and suggests at the same time the only rational answer.
MAYNILA,PAGKAGAT NG DILIM
Ang May Akda



Jojo Devera
Ang pagsinop sa mga natatanging pelikula ng Dekada '70 at '80 ay isang paghabi sa kasaysayang pampelikula ng ating panahon. Ang proseso ng pagsusulat at pagbabalik-tanaw ay paghahain ng mga makabagong metodo para hubugin ang isang makapagbagong histriyograpiya ng Pelikulang Pilipino.
Bakit itinuturing na isa sa mga pinagpipitagang pelikula ni Direktor Ishmael Bernal ang Manila By Night (Regal Films, Inc.)? Ating balikan ang pelikulang umani ng papuri mula sa mga kritiko noong taong 1980. Kilala si Bernal sa paggawa ng mga pelikulang puno ng iba't-ibang pangunahing tauhan. Tahasang isinaad sa pelikula ang suliraning pang lipunan sa kalakhang Maynila. Mula sa isang simpleng tinedyer (William Martinez) na anak ng dating iba na nagbagong buhay (Charito Solis) hanggang sa isang tomboy na drug pusher (Cherie Gil), may bulag na masahista (Rio Locsin), nariyan din ang taxi driver (Orestes Ojeda), ang kabit niyang nagkukunwaring nars (Alma Moreno), mayroon ring probinsyanang waitress (Lorna Tolentino) at ang baklang couturier (Bernardo Bernardo) na bumubuhay sa kanyang pamilya. Iba't-ibang buhay ng mga taong pinagbuklod ng isang malaking siyudad. Tinalakay ng pelikula ang problema sa droga, prostitusyon, relihiyon at kahirapan na magpasahanggang ngayon ay mga suliraning hinahanapan pa rin natin ng solusyon. Maraming nagkumpara ng Manila By Night sa obra ni Direktor Lino Brocka ang Maynila Sa Mga Kuko Ng Liwanag. Kung saan nagkulang ang pelikula ni Brocka ito naman ang landas na tinahak ng obra ni Bernal. Hindi lamang nito ipinakita ang lumalalang situwasyon ng kahirapan sa Maynila sa halip ay hinarap nito ang ibang mga isyung hindi tinalakay sa pelikula ni Brocka. Sa aspetong ito mababanaag ang malaking pagkakaiba ng dalawang pelikula. Kung panonoorin sa ngayon ang Manila By Night masasabing may kalumaan na ang tema nito, di tulad ng unang ipinalabas ang pelikula sa mga sinehan.

Makaraan ang dalawampu't anim na taon mula ng ipalabas ang Manila By Night ay masasabing halos walang binago ang panahon kung susuriin natin ang mga suliraning pang lipunan ng Pilipinas. Nariyan pa rin ang problema sa mga ipinagbabawal na gamot, ang prostitusyon at kahirapan. Sino ba talaga ang dapat sisishin sa lahat ng mga ito? Ang pamahalaan ba? Tayong mga mamayan? Hanggang ngayon wala pang sagot sa mga tanong na ito. Nararapat nating pasalamatan ang mga direktor na tulad ni Ishmael Bernal na sa pamamagitan ng paggawa ng mga obrang tulad ng Manila By Night, isang pelikulang nagmulat sa ating kaisipan sa suliranin ng bansang Pilipinas.

Dulang Pampelikula At Direksyon: Ishmael Bernal
Sinematograpiya: Sergio Lobo
Musika: The Vanishing Tribe
Editing: Augusto Salvador
Disenyong Pamproduksyon: Peque Gallaga
Prodyuser: Regal Films, Inc.

How the Angels Built Lake Lanao

How the Angels Built Lake Lanao


Long ago there was no lake in Lanao. On the place where it is now situated, there flourished a mighty sultanate called Mantapoli. During the reign of Sultan Abdara Radawi, the greater grandfather of Radia Indarapatra (mythological hero of the Lanao Muslims), this realm expanded by military conquests and by dynastic marriages so that in time its fame spread far and wide.
The population of Mantapoli was numerous and fast increasing. At that time the world was divided into two regions: Sebangan (East) and Sedpan (West). The mighty sultanate of Mantapoli belonged to Sebangan. Because this sultanate rapidly increased in power and population as well, the equilibrium between Sebangan and Sedpan was broken.
This dis-equilibrium soon came to the attention of Archangel Diabarail (Gabriel to the Christians). Like a flash of sunlight, Diabarail flew to the Eighth heaven and told Allah, "My Lord, why have you permitted the unbalance of the earth? Because of the power of Mantapoli, Sebangan is now larger than Sedpan."
"Why, Diabarail," replied the Sohara (Voice of Allah), "what is wrong with that?"
"My Lord, Mantapoli has a vast population countless as the particles of dust. If we will allow this sultanate to remain in Sebangan, I fear that the world would turn upside down, since Sebangan is heavier than Sedpan."
"Your words show great wisdom, Diabarail," commented the Sohara.
"What must we do, my Lord, to avert the impending catastrophe?"
To this query, the Sohara replied, "Go right away to the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and to the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky and gather all the angels. I will cause a barahana (solar eclipse) and in the darkness let the angels remove Mantapoli and transfer it to the center of the earth."
Upon receiving the mandate of Allah, Archangel Diabarail, traveling faster than lightning, rallied the millions of angels from the Seven-Regions-Beneath-the-Earth and the Seven-Regions-in-the-Sky. With this formidable army, he presented himself to Allah, saying, "My Lord, we are ready to obey Your command."
The Sohara spoke, "Go to Sebangan, and lift the land of Mantapoli."
Diabarail, leading his army of angels, flew to the east. In the twinkle of an eye, the sun vanished and a terrible darkness as black as the blackest velvet shrouded the universe. The angels sped faster than arrows. They swooped on Mantapoli, lifting it with great care and carried it (including its people, houses, crops and animals) through the air as if it were a carpet. They brought it down at the center of the earth, in accordance with the command of Allah. The very spot vacated by the sultanate of Mantapoli became a huge basin of deep, blue water-the present Lanao Lake.
The waters coming from the deep bowels of the earth rose higher and higher. Archangel Diabarail, seeing the rising tides immediately returned to the Eighth Heaven and reported to Allah, "My Lord, the earth is now balanced. But the place where we removed Mantapoli is becoming an ocean. The waters are rising fast, and unless an outlet for them can be found, I fear that they might inundate Sebangan and drown all Your people."
In response, the Sohara said, "You are right, Diabarail. Go out, then, and summon the Four Winds of the World: Angin Taupan, Angin Besar, Angin Darat, and Angin Sarsar. Tell them to blow and make an outlet for the overflowing waters."
Obeying the Master's command, the faithful messenger summoned the Four Winds. "By the Will of Allah," he told them, "blow your best, and make an outlet for the rising waters of the new lake."
The four winds of the world blew, and a turbulence swept the whole eastern half of the earth. The surging waters rolled swiftly towards the shores of Tilok Bay to the southeastern direction. But the towering ranges impeded their onrush. The Four Winds blew, hurling the waves against the rocky slopes but in vain; no outlet could be cut through the mountain barrier.
Changing direction, this time eastward, the Four Winds blew harder driving the raging waters towards the shores of Sugud Bay (situated east of Dansalan, now Marawi City). Once again, the attempt to create an outlet failed because the bay was too far from the sea.
For the third time, the Four Winds changed direction and blew their hardest. The waves, plunging with ferocity, rolled towards Marawi. Day and night, the Winds blew as the waters lashed against the shoreline of Marawi. This time the attempt succeeded. An outlet now called Agus River was made, and through the outlet, that water of Lake Lanao poured out to the sea, thereby saving Sebangan from a deluge.
It came to past that there was a high cliff at the outlet, and over the cliff the waters cascaded in majestic volume. Thus, arose the beautiful falls which, aeons later, was named Maria Cristina, after a famous queen of Spain.

The Way We Live

The Way We Live


The Way We Live is a poem about the going out to town, stopping by some places in the metropolis, meeting people, and finally going home. Upon reading it, one would say that dramatic situation the poem presents captures the essence of how most young urban people spend their weekend nights. Since this is a poetry blog spot for young urban people, it is not surprising if many could relate to the fast paced lifestyle the persona describes.

The poem is written by none other than Mr. Danton R. Remoto. Mr. Remoto is an assistant professor at the Ateneo de Manila University and has published textbooks and other forms of creative writing in the Philippines and abroad. Aside from that, he also writes a column for The Manila Times and does art reviews for The Sunday Time Magazine. His column can be seen at The Manila Times Online.
- Francis Lorenz De Guzman Y Hilvano

The Way We Live
By Danton Remoto
(For Ted Nierras)

Bang the drum slowly, baby,
let us roll tremors
of sound to wake
the Lord God of motion
sleeping under the skin.

Of choosing what to wear
this Saturday night:
cool, sexy black
or simply fuck-me red?
Should I gel my hair
or let it fall like water?

Of sitting on the sad
and beautiful face of James Dean
while listening to reggae
at Blue Café.

Of chatting with friends
at The Library
while Allan shimmers
with his sequins and wit.

Of listening to stories at Cine Café:
the first eye-contact,
conversations glowingin the night,
lips and fingers touching,
groping for each other's loneliness.

Of driving home
under the flyover's dark wings
(a blackout once again plunges
the city to darkness)

Summer's thunder
lighting up the sky
oh heat thick
as desire

Then suddenly the rain:
finally falling,
falling everywhere:
to let go, then,
to let go and to move on,
this is the way it seems
to be. Bang the drum, baby.

“SA PAGKAGAT NG DILIM”

“SA PAGKAGAT NG DILIM”
Balot na balot ng karimlan ang napakalawak na himpapawid. Napakalamlam ng ipinahihiwatig na kapusyawan ng maharlikang mukha ng buwan na nakasabit sa kalangitan, umiinog katulad ng mundo ngunit hindi napapansin ng mga taong nagsisipaglakad sa ganitong disoras ng gabi. Iilang maningning na mga bituin ang masisilayan mula sa malayo, na kung mamamasdang malapitan ay mapatutulala ang kahit sinong hamak dahil sa likha nitong kabigha-bighaning liwanag. Tahimik ang paligid maliban sa panaka-nakang pagharurot ng mangilan-ngilang sasakyan sa lansangan, karamihan ay mga traysikel na pinaaandar ng masisipag na tsuper para sa ikaaahon ng kani-kaniyang pamilya, pandagdag kita upang pantustos sa kani-kaniyang naghihikahos na anak. Ngunit kaunti na lamang ang mga nilalang sa lansangan—isa o dalawang palaboy na gusgusin, mga pagala-galang aso at pusa, atbp.
Pumasok tayo sa isang eskinita na natatanglawan ng isang nakabiting parol ng ilaw-dagitab. Tulad ng inyong nalaman, tahimik ang paligid at walang kung anu-anong alingasngas. Iyan ay dulot ng pagkagat ng isang mapayapang gabi. Luminga-linga tayo sa ating paligid at makatatagpo tayo ng mga simpleng bahay na ang ilan ay gawa sa kahoy, ang iba’y sa semento at bato. Magkakadikit ang mga bahay. Hindi makipot ang ating dinaraanan; gayong maaari ngang makalusot ang isang traysikel sa landas na iyon. Pansinin natin ang isa sa mga bahay sa lugar na iyon: may pundasyon ng kahoy at semento, yero ang bubong, may dalawang palapag, nakadikit sa dalawang magkalapit na kapitbahay, mataas ang unang palapag kaysa sa lupang ating kinatatapakan. Walang tarangkahan ang bahay na ito. Nakapinid ang dalawang bintanang nasa kaliwang bahagi ng pintuan. Kung ating bubuksan ang pinto, makatatagpo tayo ng pangalawang pinto na paloob, ang una ay palabas. Pumanhik tayo ng isang maingat na hakbang at huwag na munang suriin ang sala na ating madadaanan bagkus ay panhikin—sa kabila ng kadiliman na batid natin—ang gawa sa kahoy na hagdan, may sasampung hakbangin patungo sa itaas.
Maririnig natin ang isang ungol. Nanggagaling ito sa loob ng isang silid. Ang paghungos ay hindi tiyak na pagkabagabag, takot, pagkasuklam, paninilakbo ng damdamin o sadyang karaniwan. Sa loob ng isang silid ay natutulog ang isang lalaki, binata sa kaniyang hitsura. Hindi siya mapakali sa kaniyang higaan. Iilang butil ng pawis ang namumuo mula sa kaniyang bumbunan. Maya-maya’y naihulog niya sa sahig ang isang malambot na unang kanina’y kaniyang sinasandalan. Bumibilis ang tibok ng kaniyang puso kaalikbay ng sunod-sunod na buntong-hininga at paghabol dito. Kumunot ang kaniyang noo, hindi siya mapakali—siya ay nananaginip. Hindi ito isang bangungot sapagkat kapagdaka ay namulat ang kaniyang bilugang mata at nasabi sa sarili na “Panaginip lamang.”
Siyang tunay. Umayos sa pagkakaupo ang binata. Halatang nagmumuni sapagkat nakatutula ito sa isang dako. Nawala ang pagkakapako ng kaniyang tingin at minarapat na alalahanin ang kaniyang napanaginipan. Manapa’y hindi pa rin maliwanag sa kaniya ang panaginip ngunit ito ang kaniyang napagtanto:
Siya ay nagbibisikleta sa isang pamilyar na pook, ngunit hindi niya alam kung saan ito. Datapwat, bigla siyang nagtaka. Hindi siya marunong nito pero patuloy pa rin siya sa pagbibisikleta, waring walang iniisip. Siya lamang mag-isa, tumatahak sa isang hindi batid na patutunguhan. Patuloy pa rin siya sa pagpadyak sa pedal, hindi alam kung saan patungo ngunit unti-unting bumagal ang takbo.
Tumigil ang binata at sa isang iglap ay unti-unting dumilim ang paligid. Naaninag niya ang pumapalibot sa kanya. Napagtanto niyang siya ay nasa isang liblib na pook, marahil ay isang probinsya. Maraming puno sa kanyang paligid at mga kung anu-anong baging sa nagmumula sa itaas, gumagapang sa daan o dili kaya’y bumabalot sa mga sanga. Sinubukan niyang maglakad nang bigla siyang mapatid ng isang bato at mabilis na hinablot ng isang malakas at nakapangingilabot na hanging bumaybay sa kaniya. Pagkuwan, napagmasdan niya ang isang maliit na kubo. Madamo ang kagilid-giliran ng daan hanggang sa makalapit siya sa kubong iyon. Sa katahimikan ay kumanlong ang mga nagsipag-ingayang kuliglig. Hindi na maalala ng binata kung naroon pa ba siya ng matanaw mula sa isang hindi gaanong bukas na dungawan ang pangyayari sa loob.
“Handa ka na ba?” tanong ng isang matandang babae.
Sa kanyang harapan ay naroon, nakahiga sa papag, ang isang dalaga na malamang ay dalawampung taong gulang na. Pinagmasdan ng dalaga ang kabuuang ng kubo at namalas ang kung anu-anong uri ng bagay na karaniwang ginagamit ng isang albularyo. Sa isang mesita nakalapag ang isang lamparang napalooban ng nagngangalit na apoy, na nagkataong matiwasay sa gabing iyon (para siguro sa dalaga). Hindi siya nagtungo upang humanap ng lunas para sa isang di-maipaliwanag na karamdaman—sanhi man ito ng pagkakaapak sa mga dwende o ang pagkakatawag sa mga espiritung ligaw. Disin sana’y kung albularyo ang matandang babae—gayong nakagayak siya ng mas malala pa sa isang apotekaryo, maituturing nang hukluban dahil sa katandaan, at sa isang kisapmata ay maaaring himatayin sa lawa habang bitbit ang isang bakol na paglalagyan ng mga kinuhang sari-saring halamang-gamot, damo, at bulaklak sa parang—ay makaaasa tayong mabalitaan ang kaniyang kagila-gilalas na mga ritwal at huni, sa ikaaayos ng kalusugan ng isang nilalang. Napasigaw nang bahagya ang dalaga. Maling pakiwari tungkol sa matanda! Bakit nga ba siya naroon at ano ang kinalaman ng kaniyang pag-iyak sa kabila ng mga daing at pag-iri na atin nang naririnig?
“Handa ka na ba talaga?” muling naitanong ng matandang babae para lamang mabasag ang kawalan ng boses sa paligid. “Huwag kang mag-alala. Matagal ko nang ginagawa ito. Hindi ka dapat matakot dahil sanay na ako. Maging matapang ka nga! Ano’t umiiyak ka pa samantalang ninais mo namang mangyari ito.” Hindi nagawang patapangin ng matanda ang dalaga kaya’t naitanong niyang “Gusto mo bang umatras?” sa isang mababang tono.
Animo’y nakadikit sa isa’t isa ang mga labi ng dalaga kaya’t hindi siya nakatugon, sa halip ay umiling na lamang.
“Mabuti naman dahil handa na ako, ineng.”
Hindi maikaila ng matanda ang nadamang kaba mula sa dalaga. Dahil sa hindi man lamang bumubulalas ng kahit anong pantig ang dalaga ay ikinasiya ng matanda na usisain ito.
“Ayaw ba ng mga magulang mo? O baka naman hindi kayo kasal ng nakabuntis sa iyo? Hindi ka naman siguro ginahasa sapagkat alam ko ang anyo ng—eh—ehem—kaselanan ng isang babae kapag ito ay halos lumuwa na sa pagkakawarat…”
Hindi na nakapagtimpi ang dalaga—hindi siya nagsalita hanggang sa umagaw-aw na ang katinisan ng kaniyang boses.
Wala nang maalala ang binata.
Yumanig sa kaniya ang malamig na hangin gayong nakasarado ang mga bintana sa kaniyang silid. Nakatingin pa rin siya sa kalaliman ng karimlan, humihingal sa kaniyang kaloob-looban at pilit na kinalma ang sarili. Batid niya ang isang paulit-ulit na pakiramdam ng takot at hinagpis na kinahantungan ng gabing iyon. Hinayaan niyang lambungin siya ng hihip ng nakanginginig na hanging patuloy ang pagyao’t parito sa loob ng isa o dalawang minuto. Kung may sapat lamang na ilaw ay matutunghayan ninyo sana, mga mambabasa, ang nakaaawang mukha ng binata. Maya-maya, mula sa dalawang butas ng kaniyang ilong ay umagos dahan-dahan ang hindi sukat malabnaw o malapot na dugo. Napakagat-labi ang binata matapos damhin ang likidong mula sa kaniyang ilong. Kinapa niya ang isang bimpo sa paligid at marahang dinampian ang dugo. Ilang minuto pa ang lumipas bago siya matauhan sa pangyayari ngunit nilamon ng pagkakahimbing ang inakalang bangungot. Ilang sandali lamang ang lumipas at bumagsak siya sa kaniyang higaan at natulog muli.
Sa yaring gabi, habang hinahayaan nating matulog ang binatang nabanggit, dumako tayo sa isang hindi kalayuan pook. Sa taglay nitong kariktan, sa kaayusan ng mga kalat sa paligid, sa mga kabigha-bighaning halaman, bulaklak na gaya ng santan at gumamela, matatayog na punong mangga, niyog, santol, at banaba, mga salungpuwetang parihaba, at sa pagiging angkop nito bilang isang pasyalan, madaling maunawang isa itong parke, na sadyang pinarulan ng iilang mga matitingkad na ilawan. Walang isa mang mamang sorbetero sa paligid, ni walang tindero ng lobo sa kahit saang sulok. Sa mismong tapat ng pook-pasyalan ang isang lumang pook-dasalan na kalimitang tinatawag na Malaking Simbahan dahil sa pagiging malaki nito at sa dami ng taong nagsisimba. Kapansin-pansin ang malalaking kampana sa tore ng simbahan, na aakalaing kinaroroonan pa rin ng batang si Crispin, at, marahil, ng sakristan mayor na umapi at pumaslang sa kaniya. Malapit sa dakong ibaba ng mga kampanang bumabatingaw sa kalaliman ng gabi ay ang isang malaking orasan na may mga tila ginintuang kamay at numero: alas-dos na ng umaga.
Buhay na buhay pa rin ang paligid. Tila isang karaniwang eksena tuwing umaga ang nabubuhay: ang pagkakaiba lamang ay wala sa kaniyang trono ang Haring Araw.
Sa pusod ng parke, o sa isang lugar na hindi masyadong naiilawan, naroon ang isang lalaki. Nakatayo siya sa may bangketa, animo’y may hinihintay ngunit ang katotohona’y mayroong inaabangan. Maayos ang kaniyang gayak: tamo ang magandang hubog ng mukha, katangkarang bagay sa kaniyang alindog, at di-maikakailang karisma. Hindi siya isang menor de edad upang palayasin sa kaniyang kinatatayuan at pauwiin sa kaniyang tirahan. Marahil ay labinsiyam na taong gulang na. Maya’t maya ang kaniyang paglinga-linga sa paligid. Sa kaniyang kaliwa, siyam o sampung metro mula sa kaniya, ay nakaabang din ang isang naninigarilyong lalaki na pakikiwariang mas matanda kaysa sa binata.
Ilang minuto pang nakatindig ang binata; napangiti siya nang dumatal na ang kaniyang kanina pang inaabangan. Sa lansangan ay tumakbo ang isang itim na kotse at habang humaharurot ito ay siya namang pag-aayos ng T-shirt ng binata, na ginaya ng naninigarilyong lalaki. Nang gumawi ang kotse doon sa naninigarilyong lalaki ay bumagal ang pagmamaneho. Napatingin ang naninigarilyong lalaki sa binata, bumuga ng usok at ipinamalas ang isang ngiti at pagkunot ng kilay na hindi pinansin ng huli. Umandar ang sasakyan at huminto sa tapat ng binata. Humigit ang pagkunot ng kilay ng naninigarilyong lalaki na dagling dumistansya. Bumukas nang bahagya ang maitim na salamin ng pinto ng kotse.
“Pwede ka ba?” mabilis na tanong ng maykotse.
Hindi na sumagot pa ang binata. Luminga siya sa kaliwa’t kanan bago maingat na pumasok sa sasakyan. Matapos magkakilanlan at magkakilatisan ng anyo at katawan, walang ano-anong nagsiliparan sa iba’t ibang dako ang mga saplot ng dalawang binata.

Morning in Nagrebcan

Morning in Nagrebcan


It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills, the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on theri perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early mornig the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the ladder of the house. Four puupies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a pitch of hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring, aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top.
Baldo stood at the treshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with his fists. He must have been about ten yeras old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other. Bending down, he reached between his legs for the blak-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue,lapping the air. It whined eagerly. Baldo laughed—a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly. “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth. Baldo straightened up, raised the puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of women split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch. When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand, feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down. The whistle excited the puppies, they ran to the boy as fast theri unsteady legs could carry them, barking choppy little barks.
Nana Elang, the mother of Baldo, now appeared in the doorway with a handful of rice straw. She called Baldo and told him to get some live coals from their neighbor.
“Get two or three burning coals and bring them home on the rice straw”, she said. “Do not wave the straw in the wind. If you do, it will catch fire before you get home.” She watched him run toward KA Ikao’s house where already smoke was rising through the nipa roofing into the misty air. One or two empty carromatas dawn by sleepy litte ponies rattled along the pebbly street, bound for the railroad station.
Nana Elang must have been thirty, but she looked at least fifty. She was a thin, wispy woman, with bony hands and arms. She had scanty,straight, graying hair which she gathered behind her head in a small,tight knot. It made her look thinner than ever. Her cheekbones seemed on the point of bursting through the dry, yellowish brown skin. Above a gray-checkered skirt, she wore a single wide-sleeved cotton blouse that ended below her flat breats. Sometimes when she stooped or reached up for anything,a glimpse of the flesh at her waist showed in a dark, purplish band where the skirt had been tired so often.
She turned from the doorway into the small, untidy kitchen. She washed the rice and put it in a pot which she placed on the cold stove. She made ready the other pot for the mess of vegetables and dried fish. When Baldo came back with the rice straw and burning coals, she told him to start a fire in the stove, while she cut the ampalaya tendrils and sliced the eggplants. Ehen the fire finally flamed inside the clay stove, Baldo’s eyes were smarting from the smoke of the rice straw.
‘There is the fire, mother.” He said. “Is father awake already?”
Nana Elang shook her head. Baldo went out slowly on tiptoe.
There were already many people going out. Several fishermen wearing coffee-colored shirts and trousers and hats made from the shell of white pumpkins passed by. The smoke of their home made cigars floated behind them like shreds of the morning mist. Women carrying big empty baskets were going to the tobacco fields. They walked fast, talking among themselves. Each woman had gathered the loose folds of her skirt in front, and twisting the end two or three times, passed it between her legs, pulling it up at the back, and slipping it inside her waist. The women seemed to be wearing trousers that reached only to their knees and flared at the thighs.
Day was quickly growing older. The east flamed redly and Baldo called to his mother, “Look, mother, God also cooks his breakfast.”
He want to play with the puppies. He sat on the bridges and took them on his lap one by one. He searched for fleas which he crushed between his thumbnails. You, puppy.” He murmured soflty. When he held the balck-spotted puppy he said, “My puppy. My puppy.”
Ambo, his seven year old brother, awoke crying. Nana Elang could be heard patiently calling him to the kitchen. Later he came down with a ripe banana in his hand. Ambo was almost as tall as his older brother and he had stout husky legs. Baldo often called him the son of of an Igorot. The home-made cotton shirt he wore was variously stained. The pocket was torn, and it flopped down. He ate the banana without peeling it.

Valediction sa hill crest

Valediction sa hill crest

Pagkacollect ng Railway Express sa aking things
(Deretso na iyon sa barko while I take the plane.)
Inakyat kong muli ang N-311, at dahil dead of winter,
Nakatopcoat at galoshes akong
Nagright-turn sa N wing ng mahabang dilim
(Tunnel yatang aabot hanggang Tundo.)
Kinapa ko ang switch sa hall.
Sa isang pitik, nagshrink ang imaginary tunnel,
Nagparang ataol.
Or catacomb.
Strangely absolute ang impression
Ng hilera ng mga pintong nagpuprusisyon:
Individual identification, parang mummy cases,
De-nameplate, de-numero, de-hometown address.
Antiseptic ang atmosphere, streamlined yet.
Kung hindi catacomb, at least
E filing cabinet.
Filing, hindi naman deaths, ha.
Remembrances, oo. Yung medyo malapot
Dahil alam mo na, I’m quitting the place
After two and a half years.
After two and a half years,
Di man nagkatiyempong mag-ugat, ika nga,
Siyempre’y nagging attached, parang morning glory’ng
Mahirap mapaknit sa alambreng trellis.
At pagkabukas ko sa kuwarto,
Hubo’t hubad na ang mattresses,
Wala nang kutson sa easy chair,
Mga drawer ng bureau’y nakanganga,
Sabay-sabay nag-ooration,
Nagkahiyaan, nabara.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paggaralgal:
Nasa New York na si Bob and the two Allans,
Yung mga quarterbacks across the hall
Pihadong panay ang display sa Des Moines.
Don ang Cosntance aren’t coming back at all.
Gusto ko nang magpaalam–
to whom?
The drapes? The washbowl? Sa double-decker
Na pinaikot-ikot naming ni Kandaswamy
To create space, hopeless, talagang impossible.
Of course, tuloy ang radiator sa paglagutok.
(And the stone silence,
nakakaiyak kung sumagot.)
Bueno, let’s get it over with.
It’s a long walk to the depot.
Tama na ang sophistication-sophistication.
Sa steep incline, pababa sa highway
Where all things level, sabi nga,
There’s a flurry, ang gentle-gentle.
Pagwhoosh-whoosh ng paa ko,
The snow melts right under:
Nagtutubig parang asukal,
Humuhulas,
nagsesentimental.
-Rolando Tinio

Sabado, Pebrero 19, 2011

Essay : Literature (Spanish Colonization) by : Kareen Cruz BEEd IA

During the pre-spanish period literature was mostly oral, because they just write some on paper, grounds and stones which would easily break. They past their folksongs, epic, shortstory, myths and riddles. Orally their literature in these period is full of ideology and phraseology. Their main subject are nature, animals and experiences. During the Spanish period literature had a major shift from using nature and environment as their subject to christianism, saints and Christian activities. The brought of christianism in the Philippines influenced the writers to make bloodless and non-violence writings, cenaculo, zarzuela and pasyon, emerged this era. During the propaganda periods, writers like Marcelo H. Del Pilar, Graciano Lopez-Jaena and Jose Rizal uses writings as on instrument in requesting for reforms and changes in the treatment of Spanish in our society. They had produced, La Solidaridad, and Diariong Tagalog also emerged in this period some are the works of Rizals Noli me Tangere and El Filibusterismo. Historical events like the martyrdom of Gomburza and opening of suez Canal influenced, the propagandists to ask reforms and try to awaken the fellow Filipinos through their works. During the Revolutionary period, this is the time when katipunan was founded by Andres Bonifacio.
Because of the loss triumphof the propagandists, The revolutionaries agreed to have reform and freedom. To a much higher level, which is through Battles and Revolution. Jose Rizals martyrdom becomes their inspiration. Apolinario Mabini becomes the brain of the katipunan and Emilio Jacinto becomes the brain of the Revolution who wrote the “kartilya ng katipunan”. writings produced in this era mostly talk about revolt againsts discrimination of the Filipinos freedom. It can only be achieved through battles and they are using writings to awaken the Filipino and join them in the revolution. Critics agree that although Filipino literature in English is but one of the literatures in our tri-lingual culture, and youngest at that,. it is nevertheless the most creative, the most substantial and the most promising. In fact, it is this segment of our literature that has caught the attention of the world and was reaped laurels for its writers. However, before taking up Filipino literature in general in order to enable him to have a better understanding and appreciation of the Filipino of his heart and soul. In spite of the fact that the pre-spanish Filipinos had an alphabet so that “all islanders are much less a woman who does not read and write” unfortunately, not all their writings were preserved because they wrote on materials that were easily destroyed.
They wrote on bamboos and barks of trees, on palm leaves and even on the ground. What we know about these people came mostly from oral tradition handeddown from generation to generation by local poets and old folks. Expressed in poetic form, riddles are still very popular today. Filipinos love riddling because it is really a battle of wits among the participants. The tagalong have the greatest number of collected riddles. Tales also proliferated during this period. They came in the form of myths, legends and fables. The origin myths explained the origin of the surroundings world the beginning of the sky, the sea, the earth and other natural phenomena. The epics however dominated the literature of this period Filipino epics are long characters displaying superhuman strength. From Filipino natural traditions and aspirations at certain stages of life history of the people.

Biyernes, Pebrero 18, 2011

A world is an apple" by Alberto Florentino

A world is an apple" by Alberto Florentino
Can one man's world revolve in an apple? Can all his flaws be magnified a million times beyond the naked eyes? Can he see his mistakes no matter how he avoid confronting his own conscience?
Alberto Florentino did just that.
One of the stories written by a Filipino author, "The World is an Apple", has reached the conscience of even an ordinary man whose willpower to view life is anchored mainly on a three-square round meals a day. Alberto Florentino managed to tap the inner voice of man through the used of a symbolism to inject a deeper sense of purpose in life, which is rising from one's frailties.
A poor worker of an apple factory was fired from work after stealing one apple which he said was for his sick daughter. He had to steal to feed his daughter for he used his salary to spend nights with prostitutes, hence, the money that was intended for the family was diverted to satisfy his lust for the flesh.
Unmindful of his own sin, the poor worker blamed the management of the apple factory for firing him just only because of the one apple that he stole. He opined that the company had plenty of apples to share and asserted that he was treated unfairly.
He questioned the act done to correct his mistake, but he failed to examine himself for the bad thing he did as a wayward and selfish husband.
What is the moral lesson of this story: that man's ineptness is the cause of his own misfortune. Man can choose to become bad because he wanted the pleasures of life and he does not exercise control over his reactions to the evils that life could bring.
He should have prevailed over his temporal desires for the flesh and not spent all his money for prostitutes. His family should have been his priority more than anything else.

Linggo, Pebrero 13, 2011

,Sino ang baliw by : Kuh Ledesma

Ang natutuwang baliw yaman ay pinagyabang
Dahil ari niya raw ang araw pati ang buwan
May isang sa yaman ay salapi ang hinihigan
Ngunit ang gintong baul panay kasalanan ang laman

Sinasambit ng baliw awit na walang laman
Ulo mo'y maiiling tatawagin mong hangal
May isang hindi baliw, iba ang awit na alam
Buong araw kung magdasal, sinungaling rin naman

Sinong dakila
Sino ang tunay na baliw
Sinong mapalad
Sinong tumatawag ng habag
Yaon bang sinilang na ang pag-iisip ay kapos

Ang kanyang tanging suot ay sira-sirang damit
Na nakikiramay sa isip niyang punit-punit
May binatang ang gayak panay diyamante at hiyas
Ngunit oras maghubad kulay ahas ang balat

Sinong dakila
Sino ang tunay na baliw
Sinong mapalad
Sinong tumatawag ng habag
Yaon bang sinilang na ang pag-iisip ay kapos

Ooh.....Ahh.......

Sa kanyang kilos at galaw tayo ay naaaliw
Sa ating mga mata isa lamang siyang baliw
Ngunit kung tayo ay hahatulang sabay
Sa mata ng Maykapal, siya'y higit na banal

Sinong dakila
Sino ang tunay na baliw
Sinong mapalad
Sinong tumatawag ng habag
Yaon bang sinilang na ang pag-iisip ay kapos

Kaya't sino, sino, sino nga
Sino nga ba
Sino nga ba
Sino nga ba ang tunay na baliw

Biyernes, Pebrero 11, 2011

Spanish Colonization

SPANISH COLONIZATION
The invasion of the Filipinos by Spain did not begin in earnest until 1564, when another expedition from New Spain, commanded by Miguel López de Legaspi, arrived. Permanent Spanish settlement was not established until 1565 when an expedition led by Miguel López de Legazpi, the first Governor-General of the Philippines, arrived in Cebu from New Spain. Spanish leadership was soon established over many small independent communities that previously had known no central rule. Six years later, following the defeat of the local Muslim ruler, Legazpi established a capital at Manila, a location that offered the outstanding harbor of Manila Bay, a large population, and closeness to the sufficient food supplies of the central Luzon rice lands. Manila became the center of Spanish civil, military, religious, and commercial activity in the islands. By 1571, when López de Legaspi established the Spanish city of Manila on the site of a Moro town he had conquered the year before, the Spanish grip in the Philippines was secure which became their outpost in the East Indies, in spite of the opposition of the Portuguese, who desired to maintain their monopoly on East Asian trade. The Philippines was administered as a province of New Spain (Mexico) until Mexican independence (1821).

Manila revolted the attack of the Chinese pirate Limahong in 1574. For centuries before the Spanish arrived the Chinese had traded with the Filipinos, but evidently none had settled permanently in the islands until after the conquest. Chinese trade and labor were of great importance in the early development of the Spanish colony, but the Chinese came to be feared and hated because of their increasing numbers, and in 1603 the Spanish murdered thousands of them (later, there were lesser massacres of the Chinese).

The Spanish governor, made a viceroy in 1589, ruled with the counsel of the powerful royal audiencia. There were frequent uprisings by the Filipinos, who disliked the encomienda system. By the end of the 16th cent. Manila had become a leading commercial center of East Asia, carrying on a prosperous trade with China, India, and the East Indies. The Philippines supplied some wealth (including gold) to Spain, and the richly loaded galleons plying between the islands and New Spain were often attacked by English freebooters. There was also trouble from other quarters, and the period from 1600 to 1663 was marked by continual wars with the Dutch, who were laying the foundations of their rich empire in the East Indies, and with Moro pirates. One of the most difficult problems the Spanish faced was the defeat of the Moros. Irregular campaigns were conducted against them but without conclusive results until the middle of the 19th century. As the power of the Spanish Empire diminished, the Jesuit orders became more influential in the Philippines and obtained great amounts of property.

Occupation of the islands was accomplished with relatively little bloodshed, partly because most of the population (except the Muslims) offered little armed battle initially. A significant problem the Spanish faced was the invasion of the Muslims of Mindanao and the Sulu Archipelago. The Muslims, in response to attacks on them from the Spanish and their native allies, raided areas of Luzon and the Visayas that were under Spanish colonial control. The Spanish conducted intermittent military campaigns against the Muslims, but without conclusive results until the middle of the 19th century.

Church and state were inseparably linked in Spanish policy, with the state assuming responsibility for religious establishments. One of Spain's objectives in colonizing the Philippines was the conversion of Filipinos to Catholicism. The work of conversion was facilitated by the absence of other organized religions, except for Islam, which predominated in the south. The pageantry of the church had a wide plea, reinforced by the incorporation of Filipino social customs into religious observances. The eventual outcome was a new Christian majority of the main Malay lowland population, from which the Muslims of Mindanao and the upland tribal peoples of Luzon remained detached and separated.

At the lower levels of administration, the Spanish built on traditional village organization by co-opting local leaders. This system of indirect rule helped create in a Filipino upper class, called the principalía, who had local wealth, high status, and other privileges. This achieved an oligarchic system of local control. Among the most significant changes under Spanish rule was that the Filipino idea of public use and ownership of land was replaced with the concept of private ownership and the granting of titles on members of the principalía.

The Philippines was not profitable as a colony, and a long war with the Dutch in the 17th century and intermittent conflict with the Muslims nearly bankrupted the colonial treasury. Colonial income derived mainly from entrepôt trade: The Manila Galleons sailing from Acapulco on the west coast of Mexico brought shipments of silver bullion and minted coin that were exchanged for return cargoes of Chinese goods. There was no direct trade with Spain.

Decline of Spanish rule

Spanish rule on the Philippines was briefly interrupted in 1762, when British troops invaded and occupied the islands as a result of Spain's entry into the Seven Years' War. The Treaty of Paris in 1763 brought back Spanish rule and the British left in 1764. The brief British occupation weakened Spain's grip on power and sparked rebellions and demands for independence.

In 1781, Governor-General José Basco y Vargas founded the Economic Society of Friends of the Country. The Philippines by this time was administered directly from Spain. Developments in and out of the country helped to bring new ideas to the Philippines. The opening of the Suez Canal in 1869 cut travel time to Spain. This prompted the rise of the ilustrados, an enlightened Filipino upper class, since many young Filipinos were able to study in Europe.

Enlightened by the Propaganda Movement to the injustices of the Spanish colonial government and the "frailocracy", the ilustrados originally clamored for adequate representation to the Spanish Cortes and later for independence. José Rizal, the most celebrated intellectual and essential illustrado of the era, wrote the novels Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo, which greatly inspired the movement for independence. The Katipunan, a secret society whose primary principle was that of overthrowing Spanish rule in the Philippines, was founded by Andrés Bonifacio who became its Supremo (leader).

The Philippine Revolution began in 1896. Rizal was concerned in the outbreak of the revolution and executed for treason in 1896. The Katipunan split into two groups, Magdiwang led by Andrés Bonifacio and Magdalo led by Emilio Aguinaldo. Conflict between the two revolutionary leaders ended in the execution or assassination of Bonifacio by Aguinaldo's soldiers. Aguinaldo agreed to a treaty with the Pact of Biak na Bato and Aguinaldo and his fellow revolutionaries were exiled to Hong Kong.

It was the opposition to the power of the clergy that in large measure brought about the rising attitude for independence. Spanish injustices, prejudice, and economic oppressions fed the movement, which was greatly inspired by the brilliant writings of José Rizal. In 1896 revolution began in the province of Cavite, and after the execution of Rizal that December, it spread throughout the major islands. The Filipino leader, Emilio Aguinaldo, achieved considerable success before a peace was patched up with Spain. The peace was short-lived, however, for neither side honored its agreements, and a new revolution was made when the Spanish-American War broke out in 1898.

The Spanish-American war started in 1898 after the USS Maine, sent to Cuba in connection with an attempt to arrange a peaceful resolution between Cuban independence ambitions and Spanish colonialism, was sunk in Havana harbor. After the U.S. naval victory led by Commodore George Dewey defeated the Spanish squadron at Manila Bay on May 1, 1898, the U.S. invited Aguinaldo to return to the Philippines, which he did on May 19, 1898, in the hope he would rally Filipinos against the Spanish colonial government. By the time U.S. land forces had arrived, the Filipinos had taken control of the entire island of Luzon, except for the walled city of Intramuros Manila, which they were besieging. On June 12, 1898, Aguinaldo declared the independence of the Philippines in Kawit, Cavite, establishing the First Philippine Republic under Asia's first democratic constitution. Their dreams of independence were crushed when the Philippines were transferred from Spain to the United States in the Treaty of Paris (1898), which closed the Spanish-American War.

Concurrently, a German squadron under Admiral Diedrichs arrived in Manila and declared that if the United States did not grab the Philippines as a colonial possession, Germany would. Since Spain and the U.S. ignored the Filipino representative, Felipe Agoncillo, during their negotiations in the Treaty of Paris, the Battle of Manila between Spain and the U.S. was alleged by some to be an attempt to exclude the Filipinos from the eventual occupation of Manila. Although there was substantial domestic opposition, the United States decided neither to return the Philippines to Spain, nor to allow Germany to take over the Philippines. Therefore, in addition to Guam and Puerto Rico, Spain was forced in the negotiations to hand over the Philippines to the U.S. in exchange for US$20,000,000.00, which the U.S. later claimed to be a "gift" from Spain. The first Philippine Republic rebelled against the U.S. occupation, resulting in the Philippine-American War (1899–1913).