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 bl ack 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.
Tuwaang Attends A Wedding sitwasyon. Pakiramdam ng lalaki ay
A Manuvu Epic nainsulto siya. Lumabas ito sa bulwagan at
Nakatanggap si Tuwaang ng mensahe hinamon si Tuwaang sa isang laban.
buhat sahangin na nagsasabi na kailangan Ipakita mo sa akin na nararapat ka sa
niyang dumalo ng kasal ng Dalaga ng karangalang ibinigay sa iyo ng aking
Monawon. minamahal sa pagtabi niya sa iyo! sabi ng
Huwag kang pumunta, Tuwaang,babala ng galit na Binata ng Sakadna. Labanan mo ako
kanyang tiyahin. Nararamdaman ko na hanggang kamatayan!
mayroong masamang mangyayari sa iyo Tumayo si Tuwaang at tinanggap ang hamon
doon. ngunit hinawakan siya ng babaing ikakasal.
Huwag kang mag-alala, tiyang. Kaya Bayaan mong suklayin ko muna ang
kong alagaan ang sarili kosinabi niya ng iyong buhok bago mo siya labanan,sabi ng
matatag at determinadong pumunta. babaing ikakasal kay Tuwaang. At buong
Hindi mo naiintindihan, Tuwaang. pagmamahal niyang sinuklay ang kanyang
Hindi ako natatakot sa kahitano, buhok.
tiyang. Ngayon ang tanging nalalaman ko ay Tinitigan ni Tuwaang ang babae. Nakita
gusto ko makita ang kagandahan niya ang pagmamahal at paghanga nito sa
ng Dalaga ng Monawon. kanyang mga mata.
Hindi pinakinggan ni Tuwaang ang kanyang Mag-ingat ka sa pakikipaglaban sa
tiyahin. Naghanda siya sa pagdalo sa kanya, babala ng babae. Hindi siya
kasal. Isinuot niya ang damit na ginawa ng marunong lumaban ng patas.
mga diyos para sa kanya. Mayroon siyang Hinawakan ni Tuwaang ang kamay ng babae
hugis pusong basket na maaaring makagawa at hinalikan ito.
ng kidlat. Dala rin niya ang Para sa iyo binibini, mag-iingat
kanyang espada at panangga at isang ako!sabi niya at lumabas na ito sa bulwagan
mahabang kutsilyo. Sumakay siya sa kidlat at upang labanan ang lalaki.
nakarating sa kapatagan ng Tumango ang babaing ikakasal at kumaway
Kawkawangan. Doon ay natagpuan niya ang sa kanya at umaasa sa kanyang kagalingan.
Gungutan, isang nakapagsasalitang Hinarap ni Tuwaang at ng Gungutan ang
ibon. Gusto ng ibon na sumama sa kanya sa Binata ng Sakadna at ang isang daang
kasalan kaya dinala na niya ito. Nang lalaki. Lumaban sila ng buong makakaya at
makarating sa Monawon, siya ay magalang na pagkatapos ng isang maikling pagtutunggali
pinapasok sa loob ng bulwagan kung saan ay natalo niya at ng Gungutan ang
ginaganap ang kasalan. siyamnaput-apat na lalaki. Madali nilang
Nagsimulang magdatingan ang mga natalo ang anim pang natirang nakatayo
bisita. Unang dumating ay ang Binata ng hanggang siya at ang Binata ng Sikadna na
Panayangan, pagkatapos ay ang Binatang lamang ang natirang nakatayo. Binato si
Liwanon at ang Binata ng Sumisikat na Tuwaang ng lalaking ikakasal ng malaking
Araw. Huling dumating ang lalaking bato ngunit naging alikabok lamang
ikakasal, ang Binata ng Sakadna na kasama ito bago pa man nito tamaan si
ang isang daang lalaki Tuwaang. Dahil sa masidhing laban ay
Nang dumating ay iniutos ng lalaki na lumindol anglupa at lahat ng mga puno ay
paalisin ang mga bisitang hindi nararapat na nagbagsakan. Binuhat ng lalaking ikakasal si
naroon. Nainsulto si Tuwaang sa sinabi ng Tuwaang at ibinato ng malakas
lalaking ikakasal na silang lahat ay pulang sa lupa. Lumubog ito ang nakakarating sa
dahon, na ang ibig sabihin ay mga Hades.
bayani. Nagsimula ang seremonya sa pag- Sa Hades, nakita ni Tuwaang si Tuhawa,
aalay ng mga bisita ng mga mamahaling ang diyos ng Hades. Sinabi ni Tuhawa na
regalo. Dalawa ang natira para sa lalaking ang buhay ng lalaking ikakasal
ikakasal ngunit inamin ng Binata ng Sakadna ay nasa gintong plauta. Lumitaw mula
na wala silang gintong plauta at gintong gitara sa lupa si Tuwaang at pinatay ang lalaki sa
na maitutumbas sa mga natira. Tumulong si pamamagitan ng pagbili sa gintong
Tuwaang. Sa kanyang misteryosong hininga plauta. Tumakbo ng masaya ang babae sa
siya ay nakagawa ng gintong plauta, gitara kanya. Niyakap niya ito at hinalikan sa
at gong. kanyang pisngi at labi.
Lumabas na ang babaing ikakasal sa Maari ka bang sumama sa akin?tanong
kanyang silid at nagsimulang magbigay ng ni Tuwaang sa babae.
nganga sa bawa't isang bisita. Pagkatapos ay Ng buong puso, sagot nito.
tumabi ito kay Tuwaang na naglagay sa Umuwi si Tuwaang sa Kuaman kasama ang
lalaking ikakasal sa kahiya-hiyang babae at ang Gungutan at namuhay sila ng
magkakasama, magpakailanman.
 A Story of the Orphan Girl
(Subanon)

There was once an orphan girl. One day, she was surprised at noontime with a great
drowsiness. She wondered at this sleepiness, but not being able to resist it, she folded up her
sewing and, stretching herself out on a mat, feel asleep. As she slept she dreamed. A beautiful
woman came to her and said, “Formerly, the place where you live was full of people, instead of
uninhabited save by you, as at present. But one day, the Manamat came and devoured them all,
save you, and they are coming again to get you. So on the third day front now, leave this place
lest you be devoured also. On awakening, the orphan girl wondered at the dream, but did no act
upon it. “After all,” she said, “it was only a dream,” So she remained where she was. At dawn of
the third day a huge spider approached her and said: “I understand that you were warned in a
dream to leave this place. Why you have not done so?” The orphan girl replied, “There are two
reasons why I have not left this place; first, because her warning was merely a dream, and
second, because where my father and mother have died it is fitting that I should die also.” But the
spider reproved her and told her to leave at once, “for,” he said, “the manamat are at this moment
on the way hither to devour you.”
So the orphan girl went into her room and put on her best clothes, and weeping at the
remembrances of her father and mother she went down the notched log to join the great spider.
The spider and she went on till they came to a well. They had no sooner reached the well than
they heard a great noise of people in the house they had just left. “I shall remain here,” said the
spider, “while you had better flee this way pointing out a direction to the orphan girl. So she fled
up the path he had pointed out, for she was now filled with terror. She had scarcely disappeared
when three persons came running up the well. They wore black breeches that reached only to the
knees, and black jackets, while on their heads they wore black kerchiefs. Their chins were
bearded and their eyes were red. “What are you seeking?” asked the spider, “You are in haste.”
We are seeking the orphan girl,” replied one of the three, “but why do you ask? You must have
seen her.” “We smell her recent present here; “but where she went or we kill you. “Then the
spider pointing one of his crooked legs, said, “She went this way.” Now the spider wished to
give the orphan girl a start over the manamat, so he did not straighten out his leg when he
pointed, thus the manamat were led astray. Soon they came running back, saying, “We can not
see the tracks; we have also lot her scent. Tell us the truth.” So the spider held out a second
crooked as before. The manamat dashed off again, but soon came back with the same complaint.
After the fourth false start one of the manamat lifted up his stick to kill the spider. So the spider
straightened out his last remaining legs and showed the right direction. Then the manamat rushed
off again, and this time they could follow the scent and the footprints. Finally they caught sight
of the orphan girl who had reached the ridge of a mountain; but she looking back also caught a
glimpse of the manamat and when they reached the top of the ridge, she was in the valley on the
other side. Finally, in the middle of the afternoon of the second day, she saw a little hut. In front
of the hut was a young man, a servant who was cooking rice. She was so exhausted that she
staggered and fell on the floor and fell asleep without saying a word. Meantime, the youth saw a
multitude approaching, three persons being in front of the rest. He also noted one person of
gigantic size. This was Gunluh, chief of all the manamata. Now it happened that the hut was a
hunting lodge of the widow’s son. His serving man told him what he had seen and seized a spear.
The widow’s son took no weapon, but came out with bare hands. On one of the manamat
arriving at the hut, the widow’s son asked what was wanted.
“We are pursuing the orphan girl in order to eat her,” he replied “but since we have to encounter
you two men, so much the better we shall now have three persons to devour instead of one. “One
of the manta tired to seized the widow’s son by the waist, but receiving a great blow from his
arm went a head over heels into the air, ‘stuck a stone on falling to the ground and so was killed.
Another tried to seize him by the leg but receiving a powerful kick was likewise killed. So the
fight went on between the serving man and the widow’s son on one side and the manamat on the
other, until all the latter were killed, save the chief, the Gunluh, whose name was Makayaga.
This giant raised his club, the thick head of which was as large as calabash, to bring it down on
the head of the widow’s son; the latter dodging the blow, seized the giant, and pulling down a
rattan together with some of the several leaves and branches of the tree around which it clung,
tied him hand and foot with thorns and all. Then Makayaga gave himself up as conquered and
begged for his life. He offered to give independence and acknowledge the widow’s son as his
lord; to give up the custom of devouring human being and to assist the widow’s son at any time
he should be called upon. In addition, he offered his conqueror a great pearl.
He offered to take the widow’s son to the cave where he and his manta dwelt and to turn
over everything to him. The widow’s son released him and gave his permission to return to his
own place. Then the widow’s son turned to the girl and asked whence she came and who her
people were. The girl told all she knew, and he asked her to follow him to the home of his
mother, seeing that the girl was orphan and her people had been devoured by the manamat. So
the girl lived for a time with his mother. The widow’s son was not of chieftainly descent, but his
head and heart were so good that the chief of the settlement had taken him into the government
and the older men never held a bitchar without the widow’s son sitting at their side. Now the
sultan of a neighboring region heard of the orphan girl, for she was very beautiful, with straight
eyebrows, and very skillful in all womanly arts, such as weaving. So he sent a representative to
the chief to ask her hand for his son. The chief receive the sultan’s representative to the chief to
ask her hand for his son. The chief receive the sultan’s representative well, but said that although
he was chief he had to consult the widow’s son. So he sent a message to the latter on the subject.
But the widow’s son refused to let the girl go, saying that she might have relatives somewhere,
and in that case it wouldn’t be right to marry her off without consulting them.
When the messenger brought back this word to the sultan he was very angry, and sent a
man to bring the widow’s son by force, but on looking on him the man was afraid and came back
without him. “Coward!” exclaimed the sultan, and sent another man. But he back too returned
without the widow’s son. Meanwhile, the booming of a great gong came from the river’s mouth.
The sultan himself had arrived and a shareef from Mecca with him to witness the marriage. The
sharer remained in his boat while the sultan went to the chief’s house. He had invited the shareef
to the wedding, for being a sultan he did not think of even the possibility to the girl being
refused. When he heard of the state of things, he was angry, and sent men to bring the widow’s
son into his presence The man wished to tie the widow’s son’s hands and feet and bring him by
force, but the latter said, “Leave me free and I will follow you of my own accord,” The sultan’s
messenger said, “I am afraid you will run away into the forest.” Then the widow’s son was
angry. “Never from my childhood up have I ever run away form anyone,” he said. So the sultan’s
messenger, fearing further trouble, left him free, and the widow’s son followed of his own
accord. When he had come into the presence of the sultan the latter like his fine, manly looks. He
wished to treat him kindly, but when the sultan began to talk of the marriage and asked the
widow’s son what he had to say, the latter said, “My mouth does not say a different thing each
time. What I had to say before, I say again. The girl may have some relatives somewhere and I
can not give her in marriage without consulting them, although I recognize you as sultan. “Then
the sultan was very angry and ordered him seized by one of his men. But on trying to seize the
widow’s son his hand would not go around the latter’s wrists, nor his arms around his waist.
Then the sultan was furious. He ordered the widow’s son killed. A man tired to bring down his
kris, but it refused to descent. The widow’s son did nothing. The sultan finally crying out that all
his men were cowards, dew his own kris, saying “So you are greater than I, are you?” But on
bringing down his own kris flew over the widow’s son’s head. A second attempt resulted the
same way.
Finally, the sultan in despair sent for the shareef. The sharer came, bringing with him his
book. Looking into the book he said it was not right to kill the widow’s son and that in case the
sultan insisted on killing him, he the shareef, would return to THE WHITE HORSE OF ALIH
(Egnidio Alvarez Enriquez) ALIH MOVED ALONG with the crowd which flowed like a river to
the edge of the town where the big parade was to wind up. The town was made up of a hodge-
podge of races—brown, yellow, and white, brown-yellow and brown-white; and its culture was a
mixture of Malay, Spanish, Chinese, and American. Alih was brown but he did not feel he
belonged in the town. He walked its concrete sidewalks strolled on its wooden-planked wharf,
rode its pony-drawn rigs, drank the fermented coconut juice, the tuba and ate pork in its
restaurant like a Christian still, he felt he did not belong. Alih lived in the village across the river
on the edge of the sea where the nipa thatched houses were perched on posts above the water;
where the women sat in rows on the bamboo cat-walks combing their long, glossy hair, chewing
betel nuts, or gossiping; where the children played naked on the beach all day; where the men
came home for the night smelling of fish from the open sea or the market place; for Alih was a
Moto, a non-Christian, and today, he felt all the more alien to the town because he was there to
kill! The day was the Fourth of July, the nig American holiday that the town celebrated with a
huge parade followed by cock-fighting, pony-racing, hog catching, pole climbing, and dancing in
the streets. Nobody within reach of the town would miss the great spectacle. Nobody who could
walk, ride, or crawl, would be left out of the fun. Nobody cared about Alih. Nobody knew he
was in town, sworn to kill-not the men who had wronged him and his brother Omar-but anyone
and everyone he could until he was killed! As he moved with the crowd he felt pushed and
pulled one away and another. It filled him with resentment but he locked his jaw and damned hid
feeling. His time had not yet come. The heat down on him and drew the sweat from the pores of
his lean and hard body, soaking the light, white cotton shirt he wore. When he came to an acacia
tree spreading its branches across the ditch on the roadside, he broke out of the crowd and took
refuge in its shade. But soon after, hunger began pitching his stomach. All week long he played
and fasted. From new moon to full moon he had not eaten a grain of rice, nor drunk a drop of
water under the watchful eye of the sun. What little he ate and drank he did under the cover of
night. Gathering saliva from his mouth he swallowed a gob of it to relieve his insides. Before the
sun was up this morning, he had risen with his Omar and together they had slipped naked into
the sea and washed their bodies clean all impurities-even the heady smell of the girl in Balere
who had shared a mat and sheet. He had gloried in her smell, but the memory of it was all that
was necessary to urge his blood to thicken and his flesh to grip his bones with passion and give
him courage to die-and live forever in the arms of a woman! Would she have blue-black eyes
and a little black mole on a corner of her mouth like Fermina, the Christian girl who served
drinks at the night market by the dock? Or would she have brown eyes and corn-silk hair like the
wives of the Americans who lived in the big houses across the river? Ah, she must be lovelier by
far. His body had to be clean, very clean for her. He rubbed his skin with a small round stone
until he almost bleeds, and then poured fragrant water where he had scraped the hair off. Not
stubble of hair was on his arms, nor on his chest, nor on his loins. When he sallied into the town
he was as clean as an infant just out of the womb, but now the sweat was running grimily down
his armpits. He could feel it gathering around his waist and tricking down his crotch. Now his
flesh was stinking like rotting fish fouler than the carrion of pork eaters! Suddenly little knots of
cold began to climb behind his knees. Would he falter and fail? Would fear overcome him? No!
His scrotum was firmly bound at the roots and his genitals held fast with a white loin cloth
against his groin. A man could not be afraid. Omar said, of his testicles could not withdraw
inside the body. He was just a little tired. He could have drunk the strong tuba bajal to keep his
body hit, but the drink would make his breath foul to his houri, and Omar would smell it too and
think he had been afraid. Perhaps, he should have bound his legs and arms tightly with copper
wires as Omar said the sworn killers, or juramentados, as the Christian called them, had done in
ancient times to keep their flesh turgid and their blood thick. The man Sampang, a mountain
warrior, had defied a whole squad of soldiers and had continued to kill with forty bullets in his
body! Alih’s hand moved stealthily to the slit under the double folds of his wide silk pants which
he wore wrapped around the waist under a heavy leather belt. His fingers closed around the
hardwood handle of the sheathed long blade that was strapped to the inside of his left leg. The
feel of the weapon’s handle in his grasp sent the blood rushing back into his limps. No, he was
not afraid! He needed neither drink nor leg bands! He wished he could kill the men who had
dispossessed him and his brother of their but he did not know who they were. Only killing men
of their kind, men of their faith, would atone for the crime that had put them to shame. Their
blood would wash off the resentment he felt and cleanse his spirit for his reward in heaven! The
Imam, the village priest, had tried to dissuade him and his brother. “ it is wrong to kill,” the old
man had said as he sat facing them on his prayer tug in the large boar which was his house, his
voice rand in Alih’s ears like shell horn sending signals to the sail boats on the sea-faint,
unsteady, pleading, not compelling. “The prophet did not teach it.” But Omar had whispered in
his ears,” He is getting old in the head. We cannot listen to him.” The shrill blast of a whistle
somewhere down the road jarred his thoughts and awoke his senses. Two men wearing sun
helmets started pushing the people to the sides of the road. Alih’s hand released his weapon. His
blade was true. He had tested its edge on the nail of a thumb. He had worked on it all week long
while keeping the fast. His blade would not fail him. But it made him hungrier. He had nothing
to eat or drink since daybreak. During the week he had kept himself from thinking about food by
working on his blade, by watching it grow keener, whiter and whiter. Now that he did not have
to work on the blade, he was hungry, very hungry. His mind was accepting death, but his body
was rebelling. By Allah, he wanted to eat. His hunger was like an octopus in his middle
extending tentacles to his throat, to his limbs, to his brains. Struggling with his hunger he learned
against the tree to stay on his feet. The band going by made uproarious sounds like the rattling of
empty cans. The clangor perked him up momentarily. A group of girls dressed in white and
wearing veils with red crosses on their foreheads walked nu talking loudly, beating paper flags in
the air. When the band stopped playing, the clatter of the girl’s wooden shoes rose maddeningly
over the rattle of their flags and the sound of their voices. Now pushed back the black round fez
on his head and unbuttoned his shirt to the waist uncovering his hard-fleshed chest to the breeze.
He must not look dangerous; he must not arouse suspicion in any way. Omar had cautioned him
emphatically. Wiping his low forehead and high cheek bones on the sleeves of his shirt, he
leaned back against the acacia tree looking like one whose only concern was his physical
comfort in the stifling weather. Nobody watching him would have known underneath his calm
exterior, his body was alive to the hair roots, and his mind was counting the seconds like a stop
watch. His disguise was perfect. The outcropped hair of his head that showed in wisps under the
fez curled about his ears like a schoolboy’s. there was nothing uncommon about his face. He had
not plucked his eyebrows as the traditional sworn killers of old had done. Omar had said that
they did not have to wear the mask of death on their faces. They had not taken the oath to kill
before a datu. The datu, Omar said, was bound by law to notify the authorities and the authorities
would post men with guns and clubs all over the town wherever people gathered- in schools, in
marketplace , in churches, in plazas. The town would be awake at all hours, and the men would
carry weapons strapped to their waists when they went out in the streets. They would jeep the
women and the children in their houses and would be ready to jump upon any suspicious looking
Moro at banking of a dog, or the slamming of a door. Once when a dog fought with another over
a bone, an innocent Moro was clubbed to death. A sworn killer today would not stand a chance
to kill if he followed the ritual of the past. No, either he or his brother Omar would be caught and
thrown into jail before they could use their blades. By the sun, the all seeing eye, they would not
be outwitted this time! A clatter of hook shook the crisp noon air. A horse came galloping down
the road. The horseman wore polished boots that reached to his knees. His shirt was right on his
body, and across his chest was a band of glittering ornaments like the metal caps of beer bottles.
The man sat on his horse like the Son of Zoro, whom he had seen many times in the movies.
Shouting orders to a group of boy scouts to help the policeman push the crowd back, the man
spurred his horse ahead of the parade in the direction of the plaza. Alih’s eyes followed the horse
with feverish intensity. Soon he would be on a horse himself. And his horse would have wings
like the horse on the billboard at the gas station near the ice plant just outside the town. It would
have a silver mane and a silky flowing tail, its body and legs as white as milk fresh from the
udder. Omar had said that was what the prophet had promised the faithful- a white horse ride to
heaven, and as many chaste damsels or houris as the number of infidel heads he could lay before
Allah. The harsh voices of women shouting the invectives at the boy scouts who were pushing
them back, and the angry shriek of children who had fallen into the muddy ditch along the road
failed to claim his attention. A barefoot boy peddling ice cream in a box ringing a bell close to
his face did not succeed either. For Alih’s fancy had captured his white horse and already he was
covering with it with a caparison of gold making ready to set off on his journey. Would he look
good on his stallion as the man on his? . You are like a beautiful colt yourself!.” Omar knew all
about horses. He had worked at the stables of the datu of the village and had even driven a
calesa. He, Alih had never even gone close to a horse. “Stay away,” Omar had shouted at him
every time he came close to a horse. “It will kick you, It will kick you!” If he had only learn to
mount! All he had ever ridden was a wooden horse in a merry-go-round. An expression of joy
admired with pain swept across his face. He had ridden beside Lucy! Lucy was the little girl in
the reservation across the river where the Americans lived. She was all white and pink and gold.
Like the dolls in the cardboard boxes on the shelves in the Japanese toy stores in town. He had
come upon her one morning in the guava bush where she was playing with some shells. He was
in the first grade in school then, learning to read and write. He remembered he had trouble with
little black tugs called words. He could not make with his mouth the strange sounds that matched
the words in the little red book. He had not wanted to go to school, but a policeman had come to
the village and had spoken to the datu and the datu of the village had told Omar that his little
brother would have to go to school. The school was across the river the other side of the town.
There was no bridge spanning the river. The Moros were not allowed to set foot on the
reservation. To go into the town, they had to use their vintas and anchor behind the stone
breakwater at the foot of the government dock. Padding was very tiresome for a little boy like.
Alih, so he would swim across the river to the stone steps behind the big grey house with the
wire nets on the windows. One day, he came upon the little girl. He was so frightened that he
dropped his clothes which he had held in a bundle above his head and leapt back into the river.
The little girl picked up his clothes and ran to the stone steps holding them out to him. She called
to him like a datu’s daughter , and he found himself doing her bidding. Cupping himself with one
hand, he swam close and stretched out the other hand for his bundle. When he came back that
day, he wandered along the beach and picked the prettiest shells he could find. He strung them
together and left them on the stone steps of the horse. When he returned in the afternoon , the
shells were gone. But the little girl was never here again. One afternoon, though, many days
later, he saw her with her maid, a Christian girl, at the fair. He had been blacking boots earlier in
the day and his pocket was heavy with coins. He emptied his pocked to the man seated on the
crate at the gate and then climbed on the horse next to the girl. He looked at the girl only from
the corners of his eyes. He was afraid the maid would move her to another horse if he showed
any interest in her. But the little girl had recognized him and began to talk to him. He did not
understand a word she said, but he pretended he did by laughing together. They went round to
the rhythm of cymbals and he measured beats of drum. When he was up, she was down, when he
was down, she was up. He felt very light-like a piece of cotton in the air. The servant girl who
stood behind the little girl holding her to the horse had called her Lucy! In the evening, he had no
money to show Omar for his work during the day. Omar made him drop his pants and lie on his
stomach on the floor. “ This will teach you not to spend your money foolishly,” he said as he
gave him three lashes with his leather belt. He could only squat to eat his supper that night, his
flesh felt raw, but he was strangely happy. A company of khaki-clad men were walking down the
road, their heavy leather shoes pounding the macadam pavement in unison. The rifles on their
shoulders held naked steel blades that glinted the handle of the weapon between his legs again.
He raised himself on his toes and looked over the heads of the crowd. He could not see Omar
anywhere. Suddenly, he felt the little knots of cold behind his knees again. He knew that Omar
was reckless and without fear. Omar was quick with his fists when the little scar on his right
eyebrow turned livid. But where was he? Had he betrayed himself and been taken? Omar would
not be taken without a fight. He had warrior blood in him although he had lived like a sea rover
and fished for a living. Omar had been with their father and uncles in the big fight at the cottas in
the mountains of Jolo a long time ago. Their father had been accused of killing a man he had not
killed and the men who were working for the American governor had wanted to put him in
prison. Their father had sent word that he had not killed the man but the soldiers would not honor
his word. They had no respect for him although he had been to Mecca and was a hadji of his
village. They had wanted him to submit to the judgment of the Americans. Their father had taken
his family to the old stone fort that their grandfather had taken from the Spanish and there had
made his stand. Omar had helped to dig pits at the foot of the hill around the fort. They drove
sharp stakes in the ground and covered them with vines in the same way they trapped the wild
board that came to eat he root crops in the clearing at the outskirts of the village. The black of
Omar’s eye had close to points like heads of pins when he told him the story, “ Every one
perished except our mother and me,” he had told Alih, his words sounded like pebbles dropping
from his mouth. “ But you should have seen how the government soldiers were killed,” Omar
had exalted.” They look like pigs on the spit that the Christians roast to eat in their fiestas! You
were there, too, Alih but you did not see what happened because you were asleep in the body of
our mother.” Alih had often wished he had not been asleep in the of their mother when it
happened. He had never been in a real fight, and he did not have the courage that his brother had.
Often he was afraid- but afraid to sow that he was afraid- like now with the little knots of cold
growing behind his knees. Sometimes, he felt Omar’s eyes praying into him. They picked the
very pores of his body. Omar’s eyes had made him do things. His eyes had made him do what he
did one night at a beer garden at the dock. Alih had just come in for a smoke, and to watch
Fermina, the bar maid. She was pretty and good to watch. Besides the mole on the corner of her
mouth, her eyes were big and alive. And when she smiled, her teeth shoed white like a coconut
meat. He had not meant to bother her, but Omar was at a table in a corner looking at him through
rings of smoke, across a pile of bottles and glasses. He did not join Omar but he felt his eyes
following him. He took another table and called for beer, and more beer! He drank quickly so
that the ugly taste would not stay long in his mouth. He clenched his fist under the table to keep
his face straight while he drank. And soon he began to feel all man. Omar had said the brave
Moro was the Moro who could make masses all Christian girls. When Fermina came back to
pour him another drink, he grabbed her by the wrist and drew to her to him. “ Just one kiss,” he
begged bravely, “just one kiss.” “Let me go, let me go,” the girl cried pulling away. Alih flung
an arm around her waist and pulled her down to his lap. The girl swung the pitcher of beer at
him. He tried to reach her mouth with his, but a stream of saliva shot at his face. The girl
wrenched herself free and ran behind the counter. Mocking laughter broke Omar and Alih felt
the roof of the house falling on his head. The light went out of his mind, and he began tearing the
place apart-upsetting tables, smashing chairs, breaking glasses…. He was thrown in jail for six
months. Later he was put to work on the road, digging ditches and carrying loads. But worse than
the hot eye of the sun upon his bare back during his punishment were the eyes of Omar on his
nape, and the ring of his laughter in his ears on that fearful night. The parade was passing rapidly
by a group of barefoot laborers bearing placards in bamboo frames; two rows of women in pina
cloth blouses and long skirts, shading their faces with Japanese paper fans; young girls four
abreast balancing themselves on high-heeled shoes carryi8ng flowers in their arms… Soon there
would be only the long rows of ears and jeeps and calesas trailing the parade. Soon Alih would
be on the outer fringe of the crowd, not in the middle of it. There would not be many within
teach so kill. Where was Omar? This was his plan! He had said- “ Like the way we drop sticks of
dynamite in a school of fish. Alih, right in the middle - “ . He could not kill alone. He must not
be killed alone. He must not be killed alone. He did not know about horses! Suddenly a terrible
thought like a big wave when the sea was furious struck him on the face. What if there were no
horses? What if the village priest were right and there were no horses? “ The white horse as a
reward for killing, my sons, is an allusion conjured by fanatics in their attempt to give reason to
their behavior. The prophet never taught it, he was a man of peace. You will not find favor with
him if you do this!” the man told them. Alih remembered the old man’s face in the wavering
light of the oil lamp. His sunken cheeks were spectral, but the tears in his eyes and the sadness of
his voice had made him feel sorrier for him than for themselves over what had happened to them.
Several months ago Omar had decided they should venture out as merchants. They sold their
house, their boats and fishing nets, even their rare cloths and their mother’s pearls. A neighbor,
who was now prosperous enough to keep a radio in his house, had told them that foreign goods
were cheap in Sandakan in British North Borneo and could be sold for twice as much in town.
Omar and Alih had set to sea in a small kumpit with a motor and outriggers. They had bought
French perfumes, English soaps and pomades, American cigarettes, Persian rugs, and native
cloths. Lim Ching, the rich Chinese merchant had given them seventeen barrels of crude oil for
their motor, three bales of dried fish, and a sack of rice on their promise to sell the goods to no
one but him. “You will sell to me.” Lim Ching had said to them greedily, beating his palms on
his fat stomach. “You will not regret.” The trip had been without danger. The rough sea did not
turn their stomachs and the winds, the sun, and the rain were not unkind to their bodies. They
laughed at the day, and as they drifted by them with a dead motor without a light during the
night. But when they arrived at Curuan, a village so far out of town that the roads did not reach
it, a group of men with straw hats pulled over their ears, hiding their faces behind masks, had
come from the coconut grove with guns and clubs, and had taken all they had except their boat
and food. The bitterness in their hearts was like a drink that was too strong for the stomach to
hold down. They went back to the sea and stayed there for a long time. And when they had eaten
all their food and had drunk all the rain water in their earthen jar, Omar spoke about killing and
dying.
“Only by killing, Alih, can we wash away our shame…” he said, starring into space from
the prow of their boat. Alih’s heart had almost stopped beating. He leaned back and stretched
himself full length on the long narrow deck, and watched the vaulted sky lower itself about him.
A cloud floating above spread a white mourning sheet across it-and he listened to his heart
beating over the graveyard silence of the sea. But the little winds were astir and tingled the bare
flesh of his sensitive body. Gripping the edge of his straw mat to still a trembling within him, he
said. “Omar, I am not afraid to kill, but I am too young to die. I have not yet slept with a
woman!” “That is true,” Omar said. “It is time you knew a woman. I shall take you to a girl in
Balete who can sleep with you. Then you will have your hour in paradise. A burst of hand
clapping and boisterous cheering turned Alih’s attention towards a slow, lumbering truck coming
down the road. The truck was hung with colored ribbons, paper flowers, and the yellow fronds of
coconut palms. The American and Philippine flags were spread over its chassis side by side.
Mounted on the vehicle was a glove covered with Manila paper. Crudely painted in water colors
on the globe were maps of the two Americas and the Philippines. Holding on to a pole on the
globe stood a beautiful girl. In her right hand, she held, uplifted a gilt torch hung with long
cellophane streamers, that caught the sunlight in splinters. Alih gazed at the girl like a man just
come out of his blindness. Her graceful uplifted was long and full and the skin of her underarm
which the parted sleeves of her gown exposed was of pink and white hue-like the inside of a
shell. How soft and supple her body must be under that gauzy dress that caught the wind like the
sail of a little vinta, he thought. A boy seated with the driver was picking from huge cardboard
box handfuls of candies and cigarettes and throwing them to the crowd. As the float came closer,
Alih thought he saw a little black mole on a corner of the girl’s mouth; she smiled-and it was him
she smiled-and it was sweet. If he could only reach her mouth with his! Her hair tumbled down
her shoulders to waves and little wisps, touching her cheeks-and it was like the silk of corn when
the ear was young. Its pungent fragrance seemed to reach him and fill his nostrils. Suddenly it
climbed to his head-and it was like the smell of the girl in Balete who had shared his mat and
sheet. The blood thickened in his veins and the muscles of his body gripped his bones with
passion. The head of the parade had now reached the big monument to Rizal-the hero of the
country-where the important men of the town were going to make speeches. The people pushed
at one another as they rushed to the sand, breaking up the group formations. With a loud spurting
of the motor, the big float shook to a stop not far from Alih. The boy who had been throwing
candies and cigarettes alighted and called to the girl on the float. Throwing the girl torch to the
boy below, the girl began to climb down the paper globes. When she reached the floor of the
vehicle, the boy came to the side of the float and held out his arms to her. As the girl bent down,
Alih held his breath. The girl was holding out her arms to the boy but somehow it seemed the
boy was he-Alih! It was then that a strong hand reached out from behind and clapped him on the
shoulder. He turned around and a trembling-as the earth when many guns were fixing-seized
him. It was his brother Omar! His face was dark and shining with sweat, his feet were unsteady-
and on his breath was the unmistakable smell of the native drink, the tuba. He had been drinking!
His soul instinctively recoiled. Drunk! Omar was drunk! He who had spoken of white horses and
houris was drunk! He who had defied the holy man of the village saying-“Shame, shame, Man of
Mohammed, your blood has turned to water or you would not put in the prophet the heart of a
chicken”-was drunk and afraid! “Now! cried Omar as he leapt into the street drawing from
the folds of his pants the fatal blade. The crowd screamed. Fear and panic seized everyone.
Shrieks of terror tore out of many throats. The people dispersed from Omar’s path like children
at a fair on the approach of an escaped elephant or tiger. The boy making ready to help the girl
down turned around and took to his heels. The girl jumped to the ground, fell, picked herself up
and started to run. But her along flowing robe caught on the edge of the bamboo frame of the
float and held her. Frantically she struggled to set herself free, pulling and tearing at their skirt
with her fingers. Terror, cold, and stark was on her face as she was Omar coming toward her
swinging aloft his naked blade.
Scream after scream broke from her throat. The scrams struck Alih like blows on the
head. They jolted his memory. The girl was his, his-Alih’s!And she was not to die. She was
Fermina, the Christian maid he had wanted to kiss, the little American girl who had smiled at
him and laughed with him, the woman of Balete who had shared her mat and sheet… she was
not to die! Drawing his blade from its sheath between his legs, he leaped after his brother like a
horse gone wild. A savage cry sprang from his lips as he caught the sun in his razorsharp blade
and swung it down on his brother’s back again and again, until a volley hot lead ripped through
his flesh, blowing up the fire of his veins that geysered up to the sky in spouts of deep, dark red.
The town spoke about the strange tragedy for many days after. But nobody could figure out why
he turned against his brother. Some said that the rigid fasting must have made him lose his head,
others that, perhaps, he had always hated his brother, but I who was not even there, declare that-
like many other men-Alih, simply, did not love his white horse as he did his hour.
 Tungkung Langit and Alunsina
F. Landa Jocano
One of the stories about the creation of the world, which the old people of Panay,
especially those living near the mountains, do not tire relating, tells that in the beginning there
was no sky or earth ?only a bottomless deep and a world of mist. Everything was shapeless and
formless ?the earth, the sky and the sea were almost mixed up. In a word, there was confusion.
Then, from the depths of this formless void, there appeared two gods, Tungkung Langit ("Pillar
of the Sky") and Alunsina ("The Unmarried One). Just where these two deities came from, it was
not known. However, it was related that Tungkung Langit had fallen in love with Alunsina; and
after so many years of courtship they got married and had their abode in the highest realm of
ethereal space, whre the water was constantly warm and the breeze was constantly cool. It was in
this place where order and regularity first took place. Tungkung Langit was an industrious,
loving and kind god whose chief concern was how to impose order over the whole confused set-
up of things. He assumed responsibility for the regular cosmic movement. On the other hand,
Alunsina was a lazy, jealous and selfish goddess whose only work was to sit by the window of
their heavenly home and amuse herself with her pointless thoughts. Sometimes, she would go
down the house, sit down by a pool near the doorsteps, and comb her long jet-black hair all day
long. One day, Tungkung Langit told his wife that he would be away from home for some time
to put an end to the chaotic disturbances in the flow of time and the position of things. However,
despite this purpose, Alunsina sent the breeze to spy on Tungkung Langit. This made the latter
very angry upon knowing about it. Immediately after his return from his trip, he called this act to
her attention, saying that it as ungodly of her to be jealous, there being no other creature in the
world except the two of them. This reproach was resented by Alunsina and a quarrel between
them followed. Tungkung Langit lost his temper. In his rage he divested his wife of powers and
drove her away. He did not know where Alunsina went; she merely disappeared. Several days
after Alunsina had left, Tungkung Langit felt very lonely. He realized what he had done.
Somehow, it was too late even to be sorry about the whole matter. The whole place, once vibrant
with Alunsina's sweet voice, suddenly became cold and desolate. In the morning when he woke
up, he would find himself alone; and in the afternoon when he came home, he would feel the
same loneliness creeping deep in his heart because there was no one to meet him at the doorstep
or soothe the aching muscles of his arms. For months, Tungkung Langit was in utter desolation.
He could not find Alunsina, try hard as he would. And so, in desperation, he decided to do
something in order to forget his sorrows. For months and months he thought. His mind seemed
pointless; his heart weary and sick. But he must do something about his lonely world. One day,
while he was sailing across the regions of the clouds, a thought came to him. H would make the
sea and the earth, and lo! The earth and the sea suddenly appeared. However, the somber sight of
the lonely sea and the barren land irritated him. So he came down to earth and planted the ground
with trees and flowers. Then he took his wife's treasured jewels and scattered them in the sky,
hoping that when Alunsina would see them she might be induced to return home. The goddess's
necklace became the stars, her comb the moon and her crown the sun. However, despite all these
Alunsina did not come back. Up to this time, the old folk say Tungkung Langit lives alone in his
palace in the skies. Sometimes, he would cry out his pent-up emotion and his tears would fall
down upon the earth. The people in Panay today say the rain is Tungkung Langit's tears.
Incidentally, when it thunders hard, the old folk also say that it is Tungkung Langit sobbing,
calling for his beloved Alunsina to come back, entreating her so hard that his voice reverberates
across the fields and the countryside.
Ambahan
Hanunoo-Mangyan

English Filipino

My dear baby, do not cry Huwag ka ngang umiyak

'cause the wild cat might hear us! Hala ka at mapukaw
The big one from over there, Pusang-ligaw sa gubat
with his awful long-stretched howl! Ngumiyaw, maghihiyaw
Helpless are we if he comes. Wala kitang pambugaw
Our spear is broken still Sibat nati'y nawasak
and our bolo bent and blunt! Gulok nati'y nabingaw!

You, my baby, don't make noise! Anak, 'wag kang ngumalngal

Some strange animal might come, Hala ka, may bakulaw!
coming from across the streams. Sa dahilig do'n buhat
Knocking on the house, he will, Tutuktok sa suliras
with his glittering sharp claws, Kay tulis ng galamay
No weapons for us to kill; Wala kitang pamatay
our bolo we cannot use, Tong itak walang saysay
rusty is our spear and blunt. Kinalawang 'yang sibat!

Don't be noisy, baby dear! H'wag ka ngang magulo

The wild iro might come here. May laog nanunubok
The one out of the deep woods. Mula gubat susugod
How to fight him when he comes? Wala kitang panghamok
Broken is our spear in two Sibat nati'y napulpol
and our bolo disappeared! Itak ay anong purol!
Lamge
Bilaan Dangdang-ay
Kalinga
Lamge ha, lamha wadu,
wonde gende wukelo genha Inneyam de oddiya
fambo ha wakela tun ha kanaranto kan sika
wadu wadane mande wagene han akeba patiyom ka’d din guinak ay totowaa.
han ha Sisatum somsomokko
mapadas nandom-domno
hubalyo han hadene mande hononka yon ha maed inyak indoma no adisika.
nangat hu kong dende wukilak gengen ha
wanulu han aladjuaman ha Awad ossan sabsabong
ogumupgon indi undigo han along a fon ha estay naataatan
hay ha! elamhad no lomsaka domdo manak
Maypay todan sabsabong
What can we do? Oh, what can we do? amyadongok kan sika
This is our work, this we should do. adina makibkibra obobongak.
Oh my, how, oh how is this to go on?
Continue, then come back when you reach Talayan nakkaddokyan
the top. tangadok din tangatang
mampalkos adayowan ay dagsiyan.
“Tis not here! ‘Tis not here!” they said. Tomayapak emggana
We’ll try till we can make it. ta eyak datngon sika
It’s not here, according to them, but don’t sidin tangap kalinga dadayyaan.
relax
Don’t be surprised. They’re still far. Wherever I am,
Let’s hurry! My thoughts shall always be with you.
Believe me, when I tell you,
That there is something in this peace that I
experience,
which you, too, probably feel.
There is no one that I ever adored but you.
There is a waiting flower.
Imagine it when it was in bloom.
The flowers may fade away
but my love for you never will.
If you care, let us then live together.
If I were a hawk,
I would fly to the highest mountain,
even from another village,
just to be able to reach you
in the land of Kalinga.
An Balud Dumheb Ako A Dumañis
Waray
Ivatan
Daw nasusunog sidsid han langit
Dumheb ako dumañis ta pidilban ko sira u
pati han dagat nagdadalit
kadedevan ko pa sira yan kadedekey a
Bangin ha unahan, may nagcaingin,
minted dana sira minaypakachichivaw du
may madlos huyog hinin hangin.
kayachipuhuwan a kayanunukan ñia u yaken
Inin mganga balud, mulayan han dagat aya di minayakachivaw duyu pahewalan a
nga dit na calawdan, nagbabalatbagat. kayadibutbutan; ñia vuken aku na sawen du
An gabi nga dulom, an tubig maranggat pinayasapat a yavat du kadiudiñin du nadkel
nga nacacaliaw manga dumaragat. a kadaysa ko.

Heaven and sea seem to be on fire. I hide my face and weep, for when I see all
Perhaps there’s a kaingin somewhere my childhood friends, they all have grown
There’s a strong wind blowing the waves. taller than the tops of the trees in the
chipuhu and nunuk groves; but I, poor me,
These waves are toys of the sea
have not grown taller than the blades of
Coming from the ocean
grass on the pasture. Now, I am like the
Where night encounters the dark.
cast-away driftwood which none of my
Bright waters give hope to seamen.
cousins will ever find and bring home.
 so it is today that the lemugen’s call gives
the farmers much needed agricultural omen,
The Second Creation and the six constellation move across the
night sky, properly anchor their swidden
Tirury cycle in the annual round of seasons. Tiruray
Tiruray also believe that should a said that the six seem, like themselves, to be
religious leader have sufficient wit, power always proceeding to work in their
and goodness, he could lead all of his swiddens-the three young cousins ahead,
followers “beyond the sky” to live in the followed by their uncle and headman.
land of Tulus (or Sualla)… In the days of Singkad comes next, prudently keeping
Lagey Lingkuwos (their greatest legendary himself between his attractive wife and the
hero), people had a difficult time with their splendid Keluguy, whom Tiruray never refer
farming. They wanted to please Tulus by to by name-to do so would be too
farming well, but they were never sure when disrespectful-but call by his nickname,
the winds would be right for burning; they Fegeferafad.
had trouble predicting the arrival of the
rainy season, and thus were unsure when
they should plant; and they lacked a way of
calling for the good of bad agricultural
omens. Farming was, therefore, a matter of
guess work regarding timing, and the
swidden cycle for those unfortunate people
was seldom properly keyed to the yearly
seasons as it so clearly needed to be.
Lagey Lingkuwos was aware of this
serious problem and was determined to do
something about it.
Near his place was a settlement where
six people lived. They were, like all people,
farmers. And, like all human beings at that
time, they were young unmarried men-all
first cousin-whose names were Kufukufu,
Baka, and Seretar. Each lived in his own
house, near the houses of their uncles: the
widower, Keluguy, who was the leader of
the settlement, and Singkad, the group’s
only married man who lived with his wife,
Kenogon. These people kept as pet a species
of a forest dove, which the Tiruray called
lemugen.
When it came time Lagey Lingkuwos to
lead his followers to the place of Tulus,
beyond the sky, he asked the special favors
of the six people. Knowing that Tulus would
not leave the world without human beings to
make swiddens in the forest, and wanting
the next creation to have an easier time than
the last, he asked those six followers to
leave their pet bird behind in the forest,
where its call could become the needed
giver of omens. He further asked them to
live in the sky for as long as there should be
a world and people to farm it. They agreed
to both request of their esteemed leader, and
 THE GREAT FLOOD In his rage, Tau-mari-u summoned
Tinggian the waves and tunas of the sea and ordered
them to bring back the intruder. The waves
The Tinggians, a group of pagan and the tunas pushed it back.
people inhabiting the interior hills of Abra, Alarmed, Aponi-tolau cried out to
have their own story of the great Deluge. his mother, Lang-an of Kadalayapan,
The tragic incident began with the mistress of the wind and rain, for help. The
abduction of Humitau, a sea-maiden guard great goddess heard her son’s plea and
of Tau-mari-u, lord of the sea; by Aponi- immediately sent down strong winds to pull
tolau. Aponi-tolau ashored. Despite the fury of the
One day, Aponi-tolau, God-hero of waves and efforts of the tonas, the Tinggian
the Tinggians, went down to the lowlands. warrior was able to reach the shore
He wandered aimlessly through the plains unharmed.
until he reached the seashore. The calm blue But Tau-mari-u was furious. He
sea, massive and yet helpless beneath the immediately called a meeting of the gods
morning sun which flooded it with golden and demigods of the seas and ocean, who
light, fascinated the young man. And unable agreed to punish the dwellers of the land for
to resist the beauty of the dancing wavelets, what Apono-tolau had done.
he made a rattan raft and rowed seaward. From the sky, Lang-an knew the
On and on he rowed until he came to plan. She immediately called for the north
the edge of the world. There, in a place wind and sent him to warm her son of the
where the sea and the sky meet, Aponi-tolau impending flood. She instructed the
saw a towering rock, home of Tau-mari-u, mountain lord to go to the highest peak of
lord of the sea. It was guarded by nine the Cordillera mountains for safety.
beautiful daughters of the seaweeds. The Obediently, Aponi-tolau took the members
radiance of the ocean light reflecting silver of his household to the mountain top and
and gold upon the greenish hair of the nine waited. The flood came. Form his bauwi
guards as they played around the place Aponi-tolau saw mighty waves sweeping
gates, chasing one another in gay laughter, across the plains, filling the valleys and
attracted the mountain lord. destroying the crops and working animals of
Gathering his courage, the Tinggian the inhabitants. Higher and Higher went the
warrior went nearer the place gates. water until it covered the mountain top but
However, when he inquired what place it for the few square meters where Aponi-tolau
was, the maiden guard laughed at him and and his household took shelter.
lured him further inside the place walls. This Frightened, Humitau gave a
made Aponi-tolau very angry. Taking his desperate cry. She knew that she could no
magic hook, he lashed at the unsuspecting longer swim or live in the water after having
maidens. tasted the mountain food which her husband
The hook hit the youngest and the had given her. The charm removed her sea
most beautiful among them, Humitau. The powers. She implored Tau-mari-u to save
young diwata gave a loud and piercing her.
scream and struggled desperately to free Despite his anger, the water lord
herself form Aponi-tolau grip. But the magic took pity upon his favorite Humitau. So he
oil which the mountain lord had placed at called back the water and waves. But he
the tip of his hook weakened he blood and promised that henceforth he would sink
soon she was helpless. men’s boats and drown passengers until
A wild uproar followed as the guards Aponi-tolau’s crime would be appeased.
screamed and fled the gates. Aponi-tolau When the water subsided, Aponi-tolau and
hurriedly picked up the unconscious body of his wife went down to the lowlands and
the sea-maiden, loaded it on his rattan raft form them came the people of the world.
and rowed shoreward. Shortly after the
Tinggian hero had left the bauwi (native
hunt) gates, tau-mari0u went out of his
abode to see what commotion was all about.
But he was too late.
 Anthology
of the
Pre-colonial
Literary
Genres

submitted by: Cherel c. balad-on

bsce-2b

submitted to: mrs. Teresita katigbak

professor
 Anthology
of the
Pre-colonial
Literary
Genres

submitted by: john micheal parnada

bsce-2b

submitted to: mrs. Teresita katigbak

professor
 Anthology
of the
Pre-colonial
Literary
Genres

submitted by: ana marie lauson

bsce-2b

submitted to: mrs. Teresita katigbak

professor