The Witch By Edilberto K. Tiempo

When I was twelve years old, I used to go to Libas, about nine kilometers from the town, to visit my favorite uncle, Tio Sabelo, the head teacher of the barrio school there. I like going to Libas because of the many things to eat at my uncle’s house: cane sugar syrup, candied meat of young coconut, corn and rice cakes, ripe jackfruit, guavas from trees growing wild on a hill not far from Tio Sabelo’s
house. It was through these visits that I heard many strange stories about Minggay Awok. Awok is the word for witch in southern Leyte. Minggay was known as a witch even beyond Libas, in five outlying sitios, and considering that not uncommonly a man’s nearest neighbor was two or three hills away, her notoriety was wide. Minggay lived in a small, low hut as the back of the creek separating the barrios of Libas and Sinit-an. It squatted like a soaked hen on a steep incline and below it, six or seven meters away, two trails forked, one going to Libas and the other to Mahangin, a mountain sitio. The hut leaned dangerously to the side where the creek water ate away large chunks of earth during the rainy season. It had two small openings, a small door through which Minggay probably had to stoop to pass, and a window about two feet square facing the creek. The window was screened by a frayed jute sacking which fluttered eerily even in the daytime.

What she had in the hut nobody seemed to know definitely. One daring fellow who boasted of having gone inside it when Minggay was out in her clearing on a hill nearby said he had seen dirty stoppered bottles hanging from the bamboo slats of the cogon thatch. Some of the bottles contained scorpions, centipedes, beetles, bumble bees, and other insects; others were filled with ash-colored powder and dark liquids. These bottles contained the paraphernalia of her witchcraft. Two or three small bottles she always had with her hanging on her waistband with a bunch of iron keys, whether she went to her clearing or to the creek to catch shrimps or gather fresh-water shells, or even when she slept.

It was said that those who had done her wrong never escaped her vengeance, in the form of festering carbuncles, chronic fevers that caused withering of the skin, or a certain disease of the nose that eventually ate the nose out. Using an incantation known only to her, Minggay would take out one insect from a bottle, soak it in colored liquid or roll it in powder, and with a curse let it go to the body of her victim; the insect might be removed and the disease cured only rarely through intricate rituals of an expensive tambalan.

Thus Minggay was feared in Libas and the surrounding barrios. There had been attempts to murder her, but in some mysterious way she always came out unscathed. A man set fire to her hut one night, thinking to burn her with it. The hut quickly burned down, but Minggay was unharmed. On another occasion a man openly declared that he had killed her, showing the blood-stained bolo with which he had stabbed her; a week later she was seen hobbling to her clearing. This man believed Minggay was the cause of the rash that his only child had been carrying for over a year. One day, so the story went, meeting his wife, Minggay asked to hold her child. She didn’t want to offend Minggay. As the witch gave the child back she said, “He has a very smooth skin.” A few days later the boy had skin eruptions all over his body that never left him.

Minggay’s only companions were a lean, barren sow and a few chickens, all of them charcoal black. The sow and the chickens were allowed to wander in the fields, and even if the sow dug up sweet potatoes and the chickens pecked rice or corn grain drying in the sun, they were not driven away by the neighbors because they were afraid to arouse Minggay’s wrath.

Besides the sow and the chickens, Minggay was known to have a wakwak and a sigbin. Those who claimed to have seen the sigbin described it as a queer animal resembling a kangaroo: the forelegs were shorter than the hind ones: its fanlike ears made a flapping sound when it walked. The wakwak was a nocturnal bird, as big and black as a crow. It gave out raucous cries when a person in the neighborhood had just died. The bird was supposed to be Minggay’s messenger, and the sigbin caried her to the grave; then the witch dug up the corpse and feasted on it. The times when I passed by the hut and saw her lean sow and her black chickens, I wondered if they transformed themselves into fantastic creatures at night. Even in the daytime I dreaded the possibility of meeting her; she might accost me on the trail near her hut, say something about my face or any part of it, and then I might live the rest of my life with a harelip, a sunken nose, or crossed eyes. But I never saw Minggay in her house or near the premises. There were times when I thought she was only a legend, a name to frighten children from doing mischief. But then I almost always saw her sow digging banana roots or wallowing near the trail and the black chickens scratching for worms or pecking grains in her yard, and the witch became very real indeed.

Once I was told to go to Libas with a bottle of medicine for Tio Sabelo’s sick wife. I started from the town at half past five and by the time I saw the balete tree across the creek from Minggay’s hut, I could hardly see the trail before me. The balete was called Minggay’s tree, for she was known to sit on one of the numerous twisting vines that formed its grotesque trunk to wait for a belated passer-by. The balete was a towering monstrous shadow; a firefly that flitted among the vines was an evil eye plucked out searching for its socket. I wanted to run back, but the medicine had to get to Tio Sabelo’s wife that night. I wanted to push through the thick underbrush to the dry part of the creek to avoid the balete, but I was afraid of snakes. I had discarded the idea of a coconut frond torch because the light would catch the attention of the witch, and when she saw it was only a little boy... Steeling myself I tried to whistle as I passed in the shadow of the balete, its overhanging vines like hairy arms ready to hoist and strangle me among the branches.

Emerging into the stony bed of the creek, I saw Minggay’s hut. The screen in the window waved in the faint light of the room and I thought I saw the witch peering behind it. As I started going up the trail by the hut, each moving clump and shadow was a crouching old woman. I had heard stories of Minggay’s attempts to waylay travelers in the dark and suck their blood. Closing my eyes twenty yards from the hut of the witch, I ran up the hill. A few meters past the hut I stumbled on a low stump. I got up at once and ran again. When I reached Tio Sabelo’s house I was very tired and badly shaken.

Somehow after the terror of the balete and the hut of the witch had lessened, although I always had the goose flesh whenever I passed by them after dusk. One moonlight night going home to town I heard a splashing of the water below Minggay’s house. I thought the sound was made by the witch, for she was seen to bathe on moonlit nights in the creek, her loose hair falling on her face. It was not Minggay I saw. It was a huge animal. I was about to run thinking it was the sigbin of the witch, but when I looked at it again, I saw that it was a carabao wallowing in the creek.

One morning I thought of bringing home shrimps to my mother, and so I went to a creek a hundred yards from Tio Sabelo’s house. I had with me my cousin’s pana, made of a long steel rod pointed at one end and cleft at the other and shot through the hollow of a bamboo joint the size of a finger by means of a rubber band attached to one end of the joint. After wading for two hours in the creek which meandered around bamboo groves and banban and ipil clumps with only three small shrimps strung on a coconut midrib dangling from my belt, I came upon an old woman taking a bath in the shade of a catmon tree. A brown tapis was wound around her to three fingers width above her thin chest. The bank of her left was a foot-wide ledge of unbroken boulder on which she had set a wooden basin half full of wet but still unwashed clothes.

In front of her was a submerged stone pile topped by a platter size rock; on it were a heap of shredded coconut meat, a small discolored tin basin, a few lemon rinds, and bits of pounded gogo bark. The woman was soaking her sparse gray hair with the gogo suds. She must have seen me coming because she did not look surprised.

Seeing the three small shrimps hanging at my side she said, “You have a poor catch.”

She looked kind. She was probably as old as my grandmother; smaller, for this old woman was two or three inches below five feet. Her eyes looked surprisingly young, but her mouth, just a thin line above the little chin, seemed to have tasted many bitter years.

“Why don’t you bait them out of their hiding? Take some of this.” She gave me a handful of shredded coconut meat whose milk she had squeezed out and with the gogo suds used on her hair.

She exuded a sweet wood fragrance of gogo bark and the rind of lemons. “Beyond the first bend,” she said pointing, “the water is still. Scatter the shreds there. That’s where I get my shrimps. You will see some traps. If you find shrimps in them they are yours.”

I mumbled my thanks and waded to the bend she had indicated. That part of the creek was like a small lake. One bank was lined by huge boulders showing long, deep fissures where the roots of gnarled dapdap trees had penetrated. The other bank was sandy, with bamboo and catmon trees leaning over, their roots sticking out in the water. There was good shade and the air had a twilight chilliness. The water was shallow except on the rocky side, which was deep and murky.

I scattered the coconut shreds around, and not long after they had settled down shrimps crawled from boles under the bamboo and catmon roots and from crevices of the boulders. It did not take me an hour to catch a midribful, some hairy with age, some heavy with eggs, moulters, dark magus, leaf-green shrimps, speckled.

I saw three traps of woven bamboo strips, round-bellied and about two feet long, two hidden behind a catmon root. I did not disturb them because I had enough shrimps for myself.

“No, no, iti. Your mother will need them. You don’t have enough. Besides I have freshwater crabs at home.” She looked up at me with her strange young eyes and asked, “Do you still have a mother?”

I told her I had, and a grandmother, too.

“You are not from Libas, I think. This is the first time I have seen you.”

I said I was from the town and my uncle was the head teacher of the Libas barrio school.

“You remind me of my son when he was your age. He had bright eyes like you, and his voice was soft like yours. I think you are a good boy.”

“Where is your son now?”

“I have not heard from him since he left. He went away when he was seventeen. He left in anger, because I didn’t want him to marry so young. I don’t know where he went, where he is.”

She spread the length of a kimona on the water for a last rinsing. The flesh hanging from her skinny arms was loose and flabby.

“If he’s still living,” she went on, “he’d be as old as your father maybe. Many times I feel in my bones he is alive, and will come back before I die.”

“Your husband is still living?”

“He died a long time ago, when my boy was eleven.”

She twisted the kimona like a rope to wring out the water.

“I’m glad he died early. He was very cruel.”

I looked at her, at the thin mouth, wondering about her husband’s cruelty, disturbed by the manner she spoke about it.

“Do you have other children?”

“I wish I had. Then I wouldn’t be living alone.”

A woman her age, I thought, should be a grandmother and live among many children.

“Where do you live?”

She did not speak, but her strange young eyes were probing and looked grotesque in the old woman’s face. “Not far from here--the house on the high bank, across the balete.”

She must have seen the fright that suddenly leaped into my face, for I thought she smiled at me queerly.

“I’m going now,” I said.

I felt her following me with her eyes; indeed they seemed to bore a hot hole between my shoulder blades. I did not look back. Don’t run, I told myself. But at the first bend of the creek, when I knew she couldn’t see me, I ran. After a while I stopped, feeling a little foolish. Such a helpless-looking little old woman couldn’t be Minggay, couldn’t be the witch. I remembered her kind voice and the woodfragrance. She could be my own grandmother.

As I walked the string of shrimps kept brushing against the side of my leg. I detached it from my belt and looked at the shrimps. Except for the three small ones, all of them belonged to the old woman.  Her coconut shreds had coaxed them as by magic out of their hiding. The protruding eyes of the biggest, which was still alive, seemed to glare at me---and then they became the eyes of the witch. Angrily, I hurled the shrimps back into the creek.

The Legend of Mount Kanlaon

There once lived on the island of Negros a princess named Anina who lived a very sheltered life.

One day, Anina overheard her father talking to the kingdom's chief priestess. The priestess was frantic about a report that they could not find a single maiden who was unblemished.

Later, Anina asked her father what it was all about, and the king finally broke down. There had long been a seven-headed dragon threatening the kingdom, and the monster could only be appeased if an unblemished maiden was sacrificed to it.

In fear, all the women in the kingdom had cut themselves to disqualify themselves from the sacrifice. Parents cut their own baby girls so as to spare the infants from the sacrifice. But the king and the queen couldn't bring themselves to mar their daughter's beauty, and so Anina was the only remaining unscarred female in the kingdom.

Anina did not weep. Instead, she willingly offered herself for the sacrifice. Fortuitously, on the day she was to be brought to the mountain where the dragon lived, a man calling himself Khan Laon appeared. (Khan in his language meant a noble lord.) He said he came from a kingdom far away in order to slay the dragon and spare Anina's life.

No one believed the dragon could be killed, but Khan Laon insisted that his ability to talk to animals would help him. He asked the help of the ants, the bees and the eagles.
 
The ants swarmed over the dragon's body and crept under its scales to bite its soft, unprotected flesh, while the bees stung the fourteen eyes of the dragon till it was blind. The largest eagle carried Khan Laon to the mountain where he was able to easily chop off the seven heads of the writhing beast. 

In gratitude, the king gave Khan Laon his daughter Anina to be his bride, and the people named the mountain after the noble lord.

And that is how, according to the story, Mount Kanlaon got its name. That it is a volcano is because of the spirt of the dead dragon.

How the First Head Was Taken a Folk tales of the Igorot`s

One day the Moon, who was a woman named Kabigat, sat out in the yard making a large copper pot. The copper was still soft and pliable like clay, and the woman squatted on the ground with the heavy pot against her knees while she patted and shaped it.

Now while she was working a son of Cal-chal, the Sun, came by and stopped to watch her mold the form. Against the inside of the jar she pressed a stone, while on the outside with a wooden paddle dripping with water she pounded and slapped until she had worked down the bulges and formed a smooth surface.

The boy was greatly interested in seeing the jar grow larger, more beautiful, and smoother with each stroke, and he stood still for some time. Suddenly the Moon looked up and saw him watching her. Instantly she struck him with her paddle, cutting off his head.

Now the Sun was not near, but he knew as soon as the Moon had cut off his son's head. And hurrying to the spot, he put the boy's head back on, and he was alive again.

Then the Sun said to the Moon, "You cut off my son's head, and because you did this, ever after on the earth people will cut off each other's heads."

A Lesson for the Sultan a folktales of the Maranaos

Long ago in Agamaniyog, the best-known, wealthy couple were Solotan sa Agamaniyog and his wife, Ba'i sa Agamaniyog.  They were so wealthy that they owned almost half of the land in Agamaniyog.  They had large herds of cows, carabaos, and horses.  One morning, when the couple went down to the lakeshore to pray, they happened to pass by the small hut of a poor couple, Lokes a Mama and Lokes a Babay, who were quarreling and shouting at each other.

The quarreling couple blamed each other for their misfortune in life.  Lokes a Babay blamed Lokes a Mama for being lazy and not knowing how to raise a family and to make a good living.  On the other hand, Lokes a Mama put the blame on his wife who, he said, did not know how to be thrifty.

Overhearing the quarrel, the Sultan and Ba'i of Agamaniyog stepped in and admonished Lokes a Mama and Lokes a Babay.  When they got home, the Sultan and Ba'i of Agamaniyog talked about the quarrel between the poor couple until they themselves began to argue.  Solotan sa Agamaniyog blamed Lokes a Mama for being incapable of making life prosperous for his family.  Ba'i sa Agamaniyog put the blame on Lokes a Babay.  She said, "If Lokes a Mama were well managed by a good wife, he could be a good husband who could make a good living."

The Sultan and Ba'i could not keep from arguing, each one insisting at being right, until their argument resulted in a serious quarrel.  Each swore that he/she could reform the poor couple by managing one of them.  In the heat of their argument, the Sultan and the Ba'i of Agamaniyog agreed to part ways.

The Sultan brought Lokes a Babay to live with him and Ba'i sa Agamaniyog in turn went to live with Lokes a Mama.  Before she left the torogan (royal house), she said, "Someday Solotan sa Agamaniyog will pick up the leftovers of Lokes a Mama."  The sultan smiled and swore that, as long as he had the strength and the means, such an event would not happen.

The Sultan offered his new companion everything she wanted.  Lokes a Babay demanded to have livers of a cow and carabao to eat every day at every meal, and these were given her.

One day the Sultan of Balantankairan came to visit.  Solotan sa Agamaniyog was very embarrassed at the dry welcome that Lokes a Babay showed his royal visitor.  She served neither his visitor nor him.  It was at this time that he became convinced that Lokes a Babay was lazy and capricious.  He also realized that his wealth had gradually vanished.

Meanwhile, Ba'i sa Agamaniyog could not even climb up the small hut of Lokes a Mama because it had no ladder.  When she told him to make one, Lokes a Mama answered that he had no tools.  She said, "You're really silly. Why don't you have any?" She gave him her knife and told him to use twigs if that were what it would take to make a ladder.  Once inside the hut, Ba'i sa Agamaniyog told Lokes a Mama not to come near her, because in reality she was not yet divorced from her husband but had only a temporary arrangement with him.  She asked him for food, but Lokes a Mama could not offer any.   She told him to gather ferns from the forest for dinner.

 

Ba'i sa Agamaniyog would often send Lokes a Mama to the forest to gather plenty of firewood.  Sitting by the window one day, she saw a huge tree that stood out from the others.  She asked Lokes a Mama about it and learned that it was kaya-o sandana (sandalwood), a very useful tree.  She told him to cut down the tree, chop it to pieces, separate the branches from the trunk, and store all the pieces under their hut.
The Sultan of Balantankairan was looking for sandalwood.  Lokes sa Mama told him about the sandana stored in his hut.  He said that in Agamaniyog no one would find such a tree except the one he had.  The Sultan, very much interested, said he was willing to pay any price provided there was enough sandalwood to fill his boat.   He said he was willing to leave behind all that he had in the boat, including his seven maids and seven servants.  Lokes a Mama immediately led the Sultan to his stored sandalwood and the Sultan took all aboard his boat, paid Lokes a Mama generously and left.

Ba'i sa Agamaniyog and Lokes a Mama became rich. A beautiful torogan was soon erected, and Ba'i sa Agamaniyog ordered two kanter (beds).  She bought a sultan's tobao (headdress) for Lokes a Mama and changed his name to Maradiya Dinda. She was always surrounded by her seven maids, and Lokes a Mama, now Maradiya Dinda, was always escorted by his seven male servants.

One morning Solotan sa Agamaniyog found a tobao and was told that it was Maradiya Dinda's.  Taking it with him, he went up the torogan of Maradiya and saw him lying in bed like a sultan, while on the side was his former wife, whose demeanor teasingly reminded him of the good fortune they had before they were separated.   Upon seeing him she said, "My dear Solotan, do you remember when I said that someday you will pick up leftovers from Lokes sa Mama?"

Blinded with tears, the Sultan hardly found his way out and went home. He then became sickly and nearly died from all his heartaches.

THE FAITHLESSNESS OF SINOGO

Somewhere off the northern coast of Mindanao a strong current begins to travel northward. It runs to the island of Siquijor and then, turning slightly to the east, goes racing between the islands of Cebu and Negros. At the narrow entrance between San Sebastian and Ayucatan it breaks up into hundreds of small whirlpools that make the water hiss and bubble for a distance of nearly three miles.

For steamers and large boats there is not the slightest danger, but to the native in his little sacayan with its bamboo outriggers these whirlpools are objects of dread and fear. He will go miles out of his way to escape them. If you inquire as to the reason, he will explain that the Liloan, or whirlpool, is a thing always to be avoided, and then he will tell you the story of Sinogo.

Years and years ago, when Maguayan ruled the sea and the terrible Captain launched his thunderbolts from above, the water and air were filled with swimming and flying monsters. Those that lived in the air were armed with great teeth and sharp claws; but, though they were fierce and savage, they lived together in peace, for they feared the anger of their master Captan.

In the sea, however, all was not so peaceful, for some of the monsters were so huge and savage and so confident in their strength that Maguayan could do nothing with them. He lived in constant fear of attack from these fierce subjects and finally, in despair, called on Captan to help him in his trouble.

Accordingly Captan sent his swift messengers to every part of the earth, air, and sea, and ordered that a council of all the creatures in the world should be held. He named the little island of Caueli in the center of the Sulu Sea as the meeting place, and commanded all to hasten there without delay.

Soon the members of the council began to arrive, and the sky was darkened by flying monsters, and the water boiled as the terrible reptiles of the sea rushed to the place appointed.

In a short time the little island was crowded with these dreadful creatures. There were huge Buayas from Mindanao, fierce Tikbalangs from Luzon, savage Sigbins from Negros and Bohol, hundreds of Unglocs from Panay and Leyte, and great Wak-waks and other frightful monsters from Samar and Cebu. They grouped themselves in a large circle around a golden throne on which sat Captan and Maguayan, and while waiting the commands of their master filled the air with shrieks and howls.

At length Captan raised his hand and the noise instantly stopped. Then he announced his decree. He said that Maguayan was his brother god and should be treated with the same respect. He commanded all his subjects to obey the god of the sea and told them that he would kill with a thunderbolt any that disobeyed this order. Then he desired all to return to their own regions, and again the air was filled with a noise of thunder and the sea roared and foamed as the monsters went back to their homes.

Soon there remained on the island only Captan, Maguayan, and three messengers of Captan, who were called Sinogo, Dalagan, and Guidala. These were giants in size and had large wings which enabled them to fly with great swiftness. They had long spears and sharp swords and were very brave and powerful. Of the three, Dalagan was the swiftest, Guidala the bravest, and Sinogo the handsomest and best loved by Captan.

When all the creatures were gone Maguayan thanked Captan, but the great god said that he had only done his duty in helping his brother. Then he gave Maguayan a little golden shell and explained to him its wonderful power. Maguayan had but to put it in his mouth and he could change his form to that of any creature he pleased. In case a monster, defying Captan's orders, should attack him, he had simply to change himself into a stronger monster of twice the size of his enemy, and then fight and kill him easily.

Again Maguayan thanked his brother god and, taking the shell, placed it on the throne beside him. Then Captan ordered his messengers to bring food and drink, and soon the two gods were feasting merrily.

Now it happened that Sinogo had been standing behind the throne and had heard all that had been said. He was filled with a desire to own the wonderful shell, and in spite of the many favors he had received from Captan he resolved to steal it. The more he thought of its great power, the more he longed for it. With it he could rule the earth and sea as a god, and, by hiding, he might avoid the anger of Captan. So he watched for an opportunity to make away with it. Finally his chance came. While handing Maguayan some food, he slyly caught up the shell, and soon afterwards quietly slipped away.

For some time his absence was not discovered, but all at once Captan called for his favorite messenger and, receiving no reply, ordered Dalagan to search for him. Soon Dalagan returned and reported that Sinogo could not be found on the island. At the same time Maguayan noticed that the golden shell was gone.

Then Captan knew that his messenger had stolen the shell and escaped. He flew into a great rage and swore he would kill Sinogo. He ordered Dalagan and Guidala to hasten to the north in search of the faithless messenger and to bring him back a prisoner.

Swiftly northward over the blue sea flew the messengers, and near the island of Guimaras caught sight of Sinogo. He saw his pursuers and flew all the swifter, but he was no match for them in speed. Nearer and nearer they came and then, drawing their swords, rushed forward to seize him.

But Sinogo was not to be easily caught. Quick as a flash, he placed the shell in his mouth and dived down into the water, at the same time changing himself into a huge crocodile-shaped Buwaya with scales like armor of steel.

In vain Dalagan and Guidala rained blows on the monster. The swords could not pierce the heavy scales.

Up through Guimaras Strait the chase went on, and Sinogo tore up the water in his flight. So great was the disturbance of the ocean that, as they rounded the northern coast of Negros, the waves dashed completely over the little island of Bacabac, sweeping away the hills and bringing the land to the level of the sea.

Still the rapid flight went on. Straight for Bantayan headed Sinogo, but suddenly changing his course he dashed into the narrow channel between Negros and Cebu. Then Dalagan, leaving Guidala to continue the chase alone, flew swiftly back to Caueli and told Captan that Sinogo was in the little strait. Up sprang the god and, flying directly east, he posted himself at the southern entrance of the channel. In his hand he held an enormous thunderbolt, and thus armed he waited for the appearance of Sinogo.

Down into the narrow entrance sped the faithless messenger, tearing up the water in his mad flight, while the brave Guidala struck in vain at his huge body. Suddenly a roar of thunder sounded and the thunderbolt fell on the back of the monster, bearing him down beneath the waves and then, stiffening like a bar of iron, pinning him to the bottom far below.

 In vain he struggled to free himself; the bar held him fast and sure. In his struggles the shell fell from his mouth, but a little Tamban caught it and brought it safely to Captan.

Thousands of years have passed, but far under the water, like a fly on a pin, Sinogo struggles in the form of a huge Buaya. The water bubbles around him and for three miles little whirlpools go racing up the channel. And the native in his little sacayan avoids the narrow entrance where the water boils and foams, for Sinogo still twists and squirms, and the Liloan is a thing to be feared and dreaded.

The Fall of Polobulac

This is a tale from Panay. It probably originated with the Spanish fathers, who wished to impress the doctrine of the Seven Deadly Sins on the natives. The islands are just off Iloilo.
A little way from Iloilo there once was a beautiful island called Polobulac, or Isle of Flowers. Its shores were covered with beautiful trees and plants; splendid gardens of flowers were found everywhere; fruits grew in abundance; fountains sparkled in the sunlight; and the people were the happiest in the world. They danced and sang to gay music, and were free from every care and sorrow.
Filled with confidence in their good fortune, and proud of their beautiful island, they began to slight the people of the neighboring islands, and to treat them with insolence and scorn.
One night the sky was darkened, the lightning flashed, the rain fell in torrents, and a voice cried from the clouds, above the roar of the thunder:
"I am Pride. Avoid me or perish."
Terrified, they prayed to God for protection, but with the morning sun their fears left them and they continued as before.
Days passed and the people grew richer, but, not satisfied with their wealth and with their own beautiful island, they longed to possess the lands of their neighbors.
Again came the storm, and again a voice cried from the heavens:
"I am Covetousness. Come to me and die."
Once more they appealed for protection, but they did not change their ways.
Weeks went by, and with wealth came low and base desires. The storm came as before and brought the warning:
"I am Evil Desire. Fly from me or be lost."
But again it sounded to sealed ears. Months rolled on. The people quarreled with their neighbors, and sent forth an army to make war upon them. The voice thundered:
"I am Anger. I give eternal torment."
Years followed, and the tables of the people of Polobulac were loaded with the finest foods and wines. Day and night found them feasting. The cry sounded above them:
"I am Gluttony. I devour my children."
The winds alone echoed the warning.
Time flew by. Each man sought to outdo the others in display of luxury and magnificence. The poor grudged the rich their fortunes, and sought in every way to injure them. Again a voice came through the darkness:
"I am Envy. My people are condemned."
But they closed their ears and would not hear.
More wealth brought greater luxury. They lolled in idleness. They idled in the midst of magnificence. The voice warned:
"I am Sloth. I bring final warning."
They were used to the voices now, and gave them not the slightest heed. Their insolence and greed grew greater. The fair island shook with dissension and strife.
One day the sun was hidden by blackness. A fearful tempest burst over the land. The people on the other islands saw Polobulac wrapped in seven huge pillars of flame.
When the sky cleared, Polobulac was nowhere to be seen. In its place, seven blackened rocks marked the spot where stood the beautiful isle.
They are there to this day. You can see them as you leave the harbor for southern ports. Sometimes they appear as one. Again they seem to group in twos and threes. But there are seven.
They are called the Deadly Sins.

Bayan Ko Ni Jose Corazon de Jesus

Ang bayan kong Pilipinas
Lupain ng ginto't bulaklak
Pag-ibig na sa kanyang palad
Nag-alay ng ganda't dilag.

At sa kanyang yumi at ganda
Dayuhan ay nahalina
Bayan ko, binihag ka
Nasadlak sa dusa.

Ibon mang may layang lumipad
kulungin mo at umiiyak
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di magnasang makaalpas!

Pilipinas kong minumutya
Pugad ng luha ko't dalita
Aking adhika,
Makita kang sakdal laya.

THE ANTING-ANTING OF MANUELITO

The Anting-Anting is a stone or other small object covered with cabalistic inscriptions. It is worn around the neck, and is supposed to render its owner impervious to knife or bullet. Many are wearing these charms, especially the Tulisanes or outlaws. The Anting-Anting must not be confused, however, with the scapular, a purely religious symbol worn by a great number of the Christian Filipinos.

Many of the older Filipinos remember Manuelito, the great Tulisane, who, more than fifty years ago, kept all the Laguna de Bai district in a state of fear. His robber band was well organized and obeyed his slightest wish. He had many boats on the lake and many hiding places in the mountains, and throughout the country there was no villager who did not fear to oppose him, or who would refuse to help him in any way when required to do so.

In vain the Guardia Civil hunted him. Many times they surrounded the band, but Manuelito always escaped. Many shots were fired at him, but he was never hit; and once, when he was cut off from his men and surrounded, he broke through the line, and though fifty bullets whistled around him he did not receive a scratch.

The officers of the Guardia Civil blamed their men for the bad marksmanship that allowed Manuelito to escape. They told all the people that it should never occur again, and promised that the next fight should end in the death of the outlaw. The people, however, did not believe that Manuelito could be killed, for he wore on his breast a famous Anting-Anting that he had received from Mangagauay, the giver of life and death.

This charm was a stone covered with mysterious signs. It was wrapped in silk and hung by a string from the robber's neck, and even if a gun were fired within a few feet of him the Anting-Anting was sure to turn the bullet in another direction. It was this charm that always saved him from the Guardia Civil.

Manuelito was very proud of his Anting-Anting, and many times, when a fiesta was being held in some town, he and his band would come down from the mountains and take part in the games. Manuelito would stand in the town plaza and allow his men to shoot at him, and each time the Anting-Anting would turn aside the bullets. The people were very much impressed, and though a few of the wiser ones secretly thought that the guns were only loaded with powder, they were afraid to say anything; so the greater number thought it very wonderful and believed that there was no charm so powerful as the Anting-Anting of Manuelito.

For years the Tulisane, protected by his charm, continued to rob and plunder. The Guardia Civil hunted him everywhere, but could never kill him. He grew bolder and bolder, and even came close to Manila to rob the little towns just outside the city.

At last the government grew tired of sending out the Guardia Civil, and ordered a regiment of Macabebes to hunt and kill the Tulisane and his men.

Manuelito was at Pasay when news was brought to him that the Macabebes were coming. Instead of running from these fierce little fighters, he decided to meet them, and many people offered to help him, believing that the Anting-Anting would turn away all bullets and give them victory. So Manuelito and many men left the town, built trenches in the hills near San Pedro Macati, and waited for the Macabebes to appear.

They had not long to wait. The Macabebes, hurrying from Manila, reached San Pedro Macati and soon found that Manuelito was waiting to fight them. They left the town at once and advanced on the Tulisane trenches.

It was a great fight. From the other hills close by many people watched the battle. Five times the Macabebes advanced, and were forced to fall back before the fierce fire of the Tulisanes. But the Macabebe never knows defeat, and once more their line went forward and in one terrible charge swept over the trenches and bayoneted the outlaws. In vain Manuelito called on his men to fight. They broke and ran in every direction. Then, seeing that all was lost, Manuelito started to follow them; but a volley rang out, and, struck by twenty bullets, he fell to the ground dead. The Macabebes chased the flying Tulisanes and killed that of all the band only a few many, safely reached the mountains.

While the Macabebes were chasing the outlaws, many people came down from the hills and stood around the body of Manuelito. They could hardly believe their eyes, but the many wounds and the blood staining the ground proved that the great Tulisane was indeed dead.

What of the Anting-Anting? Had it lost its power?

One man timidly unbuttoned the shirt of the dead robber and pulled out the charm. The mystery was explained. Fixed firmly in the center of the Anting-Anting was a silver bullet. There was but one explanation. The Macabebes had melted a statue of the Virgin and used it to make bullets to fire at Manuelito. Against such bullets the charm was useless, but against ordinary lead it never would have failed. Had not the people seen Manuelito's own men fire at him?

The charm was taken from the neck of the dead Tulisane and many copies were made of it. Even to this day hundreds of people are wearing them. They will tell you about Manuelito's great fight and also about his famous Anting-Anting.

"But," you say, "the Anting-Anting was useless. Manuelito was killed."

They answer, "Yes, Senor, it is true; but the Macabebes used bullets of silver. Had they used lead the story would have been different. Poor Manuelito!"

When the Lilies Return

A legend of the Chinese Invasion. Quiapo, even at the time of the early Spaniards, and for years after, was a deserted field. The story is an old one and generally known to the Tagallos.

At the time when the Pasig flowed peacefully along between flowery banks; when its breast was not torn by puffing steamers; and when only a few clustering huts marked the present site of Manila, there grew on the banks of the river a beautiful field of lilies.

The lilies glistened like silver in the sunlight, and their sweet odor filled the air with delicious perfume. No hand plucked them from the earth, and no foot trampled out their fragrance; for an ancient prophecy had said that while the lilies stood the happiness of the people should endure.

But after a time there came dark days in the history of the Philippines. Yellow hordes swept across the water and carried all before them. The people could hardly expect to resist the invaders, for their warrior king, Loku, had profaned the word of the god, and, in the form of a lizard, was fulfilling his punishment. Their armies were weak and scattered, and the conquerors marched on in triumph.

As report after report of disaster reached Luzon, the people trembled for the safety of their fair land. Warriors gathered hastily for the defense of the nation, and all waited for the enemy to appear.

One day the water was dotted with the junks of the invaders. They came slowly down the bay, and anchored near the mouth of the Pasig.

Then from the boats poured the yellow warriors. Spears rained upon them, stones and arrows laid them low, but their numbers were countless. The people were swept back along the river banks.

Fiercely they fought, but numbers told against them. Foot by foot they were pressed back, till they stood on the border of the field of lilies, where they made their last stand. But it was to no purpose.

The invaders poured from the ships, and in one desperate charge drove back the ranks of the people, who fought and died among their sacred lilies.

All through the night the battle raged, and at daybreak, when the victorious invaders rested on their spears, the beautiful field was no more.

The lilies were crushed and torn. The bodies of dead and dying warriors lay everywhere, and the crushed flowers were stained with the blood of friend and foe. The peace of the land was lost.

Many years have passed since then. New races have come to the Islands, and new manners and customs have been introduced. The Pasig still flows on to the sea, but its banks are harnessed by bridges. Lofty dwellings and stores take the place of the little huts, and a great city marks the site of the little village.

Where once was the beautiful field is now a busy part of the great city. It is called Quiapo, after the lilies. Many of the older people remember the prophecy and wonder if the lilies will ever return.

The land is now a peaceful and contented one. Comfort and happiness may be found among its inhabitants. Perhaps the fair, strange women from the great land over the sea are the lilies. Who can tell?

THE CHILDREN OF THE LIMOKON Mandaya (Mindanao)

In the very early days before there were any people on the earth, the limokon (a kind of dove)   were very powerful and could talk like men though they looked like birds. One limokon laid two eggs, one at the mouth of the Mayo River and one farther up its course. After some time these eggs hatched, and the one at the mouth of the river became a man, while the other became a woman.
The man lived alone on the bank of the river for a long time, but he was very lonely and wished many times for a companion. One day when he was crossing the river something was swept against his legs with such force that it nearly caused him to drown. On examining it, he found that it was a hair, and he determined to go up the river and find whence it came. He traveled up the stream, looking on both banks, until finally he found the woman, and he was very happy to think that at last he could have a companion.
They were married and had many children, who are the Mandaya still living along the Mayo River.

THE WIDOW'S SON Subanun (Mindanao)

In a little house at the edge of a village lived a widow with her only son, and they were very happy together. The son was kind to his mother, and they made their living by growing rice in clearings on the mountain side and by hunting wild pig in the forest.

One evening when their supply of meat was low, the boy said: "Mother, I am going to hunt pig in the morning, and I wish you would prepare rice for me before daylight."

So the widow rose early and cooked the rice, and at dawn the boy started out with his spear and dog.
Some distance from the village, he entered the thick forest. He walked on and on, ever on the lookout for game, but none appeared. 

At last when he had traveled far and the sun was hot, he sat down on a rock to rest and took out his brass box to get a piece of betel-nut. He prepared the nut and leaf for chewing, and as he did so he wondered why it was that he had been so unsuccessful that day. But even as he pondered he heard his dog barking sharply, and cramming the betel-nut into his mouth he leaped up and ran toward the dog.

As he drew near he could see that the game was a fine large pig, all black save its four legs which were white. He lifted his spear and took aim, but before he could throw the pig started to run, and instead of going toward a water course it ran straight up the mountain. The boy went on in hot pursuit, and when the pig paused he again took aim, but before he could throw it ran on.

Six times the pig stopped just long enough for the boy to take aim, and then started on before he could throw. The seventh time, however, it halted on the top of a large flat rock and the boy succeeded in killing it.

He tied its legs together with a piece of rattan and was about to start for home with the pig on his back, when to his surprise a door in the large stone swung open and a man stepped out.

"Why have you killed my master's pig?" asked the man.

"I did not know that this pig belonged to anyone," replied the widow's son. "I was hunting, as I often do, and when my dog found the pig I helped him to catch it"

"Come in and see my master," said the man, and the boy followed him into the stone where he found himself in a large room. 

The ceiling and floor were covered with peculiar cloth that had seven wide stripes of red alternating with a like number of yellow stripes. When the master of the place appeared his trousers were of seven colors, as were also his jacket and the kerchief about his head.

The master ordered betel-nut, and when it was brought they chewed together. Then he called for wine, and it was brought in a jar so large that it had to be set on the ground under the house, and even then the top came so high above the floor that they brought a seat for the widow's son, and it raised him just high enough to drink from the reed in the top of the jar. He drank seven cups of wine, and then they ate rice and fish and talked together.

The master did not blame the boy for killing the pig, and declared that he wished to make a brother of him. So they became friends, and the boy remained seven days in the stone. At the end of that time, he said that he must return to his mother who would be worried about him. In the early morning he left the strange house and started for home.

At first he walked briskly, but as the morning wore on he went more slowly, and finally when the sun was high he sat down on a rock to rest. Suddenly looking up, he saw before him seven men each armed with a spear, a shield, and a sword. They were dressed in different colors, and each man had eyes the same color as his clothes. The leader, who was dressed all in red with red eyes to match, spoke first, asking the boy where he was going. The boy replied that he was going home to his mother who would be looking for him, and added:

"Now I ask where you are going, all armed ready for war."

"We are warriors," replied the man in red.

 "And we go up and down the world killing whatever we see that has life. Now that we have met you, we must kill you also."

The boy, startled by this strange speech, was about to answer when he heard a voice near him say: 

"Fight, for they will try to kill you," and upon looking up he saw his spear, shield, and sword which he had left at home. Then he knew that the command came from a spirit, so he took his weapons and began to fight. 

For three days and nights they contended, and never before had the seven seen one man so brave. On the fourth day the leader was wounded and fell dead, and then, one by one, the other six fell.

When they were all killed, the widow's son was so crazed with fighting that he thought no longer of returning home, but started out to find more to slay.

In his wanderings he came to the home of a great giant whose house was already full of the men he had conquered in battle, and he called up from outside:

"Is the master of the house at home? If he is, let him come out and fight."

This threw the giant into a rage, and seizing his shield and his spear, the shaft of which was the trunk of a tree, he sprang to the door and leaped to the ground, not waiting to go down the notched pole which served for steps. He looked around for his antagonist, and seeing only the widow's son he roared:

"Where is the man that wants to fight? That thing? It is only a fly!"

The boy did not stop to answer, but rushed at the giant with his knife; and for three days and nights they struggled, till the giant fell, wounded at the waist.

After that the widow's son stopped only long enough to burn the giant's house, and then rushed on looking for someone else to slay. Suddenly he again heard the voice which had bade him fight with the seven men, and this time it said: 

"Go home now, for your mother is grieved at your absence." In a rage he sprang forward with his sword, though he could see no enemy. Then the spirit which had spoken to him made him sleep for a short time. When he awoke the rage was spent.

Again the spirit appeared, and it said: "The seven men whom you killed were sent to kill you by the spirit of the great stone, for he looked in your hand and saw that you were to marry the orphan girl whom he himself wished to wed. But you have conquered. Your enemies are dead. Go home now and prepare a great quantity of wine, for I shall bring your enemies to life again, and you will all live in peace."

So the widow's son went home, and his mother, who had believed him dead, was filled with joy at his coming, and all the people in the town came out to welcome him. When he had told them his story, they hastened to get wine, and all day they bore jarsful to the widow's house.

That night there was a great feast, and the spirit of the great stone, his seven warriors, the friendly spirit, and the giant all came. The widow's son married the orphan girl, while another beautiful woman became the wife of the spirit of the stone.

Mansumandig a Visayan Tale.

One day a man said to his wife: "My wife, we are getting very poor and I must go into business to earn some money."

"That is a good idea," replied his wife. "How much capital have you?"
"I have twenty-five centavos,"   answered the man; "and I am going to buy rice and carry it to the mines, for I have heard that it brings a good price there."

So he took his twenty-five centavos and bought a half-cavan of rice which he carried on his shoulder to the mine. Arriving there he told the people that he had rice for sale, and they asked eagerly how much he wanted for it.

"Why, have you forgotten the regular price of rice?" asked the man. "It is twenty-five centavos."
They at once bought the rice, and the man was very glad because he would not have to carry it any longer. He put the money in his belt and asked if they would like to buy any more.
"Yes," said they, "we will buy as many cavans as you will bring."

When the man reached home his wife asked if he had been successful.

"Oh, my wife," he answered, "it is a very good business. I could not take the rice off my shoulder before the people came to buy it."

"Well, that is good," said the wife; "we shall become very rich."

The next morning the man bought a half-cavan of rice the same as before and carried it to the mine and when they asked how much it would be, he said:

"It is the same as before—twenty-five centavos." He received the money and went home.
"How is the business today?" asked his wife.

"Oh, it is the same as before," he said. "I could not take the rice off my shoulder before they came for it."

And so he went on with his business for a year, each day buying a half-cavan of rice and selling it for the price he had paid for it. Then one day his wife said that they would balance accounts, and she spread a mat on the floor and sat down on one side of it, telling her husband to sit on the opposite side. When she asked him for the money he had made during the year, he asked:

"What money?"

"Why, give me the money you have received," answered his wife; "and then we can see how much you have made."

"Oh, here it is," said the man, and he took the twenty-five centavos out of his belt and handed it to her.

"Is that all you have received this year?" cried his wife angrily. "Haven't you said that rice brought a good price at the mines?"

"That is all," he replied.

"How much did you pay for the rice?"

"Twenty-five centavos."

"How much did you receive for it?"

"Twenty-five centavos."

"Oh, my husband," cried his wife, "how can you make any gain if you sell it for just what you paid for it."

The man leaned his head against the wall and thought. Ever since then he has been called "Mansumandig," a man who leans back and thinks.

Then the wife said, "Give me the twenty-five centavos, and I will try to make some money." So he handed it to her, and she said, "Now you go to the field where the people are gathering hemp and buy twenty-five centavos worth for me, and I will weave it into cloth."

When Mansumandig returned with the hemp she spread it in the sun, and as soon as it was dry she tied it into a long thread and put it on the loom to weave. Night and day she worked on her cloth, and when it was finished she had eight varas. This she sold for twelve and a half centavos a vara, and with this money she bought more hemp. She continued weaving and selling her cloth, and her work was so good that people were glad to buy from her.

At the end of a year she again spread the mat on the floor and took her place on one side of it, while her husband sat on the opposite side. Then she poured the money out of the blanket in which she kept it upon the mat. She held aside her capital, which was twenty-five centavos, and when she counted the remainder she found that she had three hundred pesos. Mansumandig was greatly ashamed when he remembered that he had not made cent, and he leaned his head against the wall and thought After a while the woman pitied him, so she gave him the money and told him to buy carabao.

He was able to buy ten carabao and with these he plowed his fields. By raising good crops they were able to live comfortably all the rest of their lives.

THE STRIPED BLANKET From The Tinguian`s

Three Tinguian once went to the mountains to hunt deer. They took their blankets with them, for they expected to be gone several days, and the nights in the mountains are cold.


The blankets of two of the men were of the blue-and-white designs such as are commonly worn by the Tinguian, but that of the third was covered with red and yellow stripes like the back of a little wild pig.

At night the men rolled up in their blankets and lay down under a tree to sleep; but while the one in the striped blanket was still awake two spirits came near and saw him.

"Oh," he heard one spirit say to the other, "here we have something to eat, for here is a little wild pig."


Then the man quickly took the blanket off one of his sleeping companions and put his own in its place. Very soon the spirits came and ate the man under the striped blanket.

Since that time the Tinguian never sleep under that kind of a blanket if they are where the spirits can get them.

The Mariners and the Four Asuangs of Capiz

Once a small boat containing one commandant, a captain and six sailors landed on the island of Capiz. They sought refuge in a house owned by a widow and her three lovely daughters. These women were very accommodating, and during their meals there was much gay talk and laughter. The meals themselves were of the highest quality. Never had the sailors been extended such hospitality!

          And then one of the sailors noticed that his fork was shaped like a human hand. This observation prompted the mariners to quickly be done with the meal. The mariners began to form suspicions as to the true nature of the women in the house with them. They decided to watch out for strange happenings during their stay in Capiz.

          The more curious three of the sailors investigated the lower rooms of the house they were staying in. There, they found the three lower halves of the bodies of women. The upper halves had simply broken away and disappeared. The sailors gave way to temptation and fear and smeared ashes on the top parts of these lower halves and changed their positions, to prevent the upper and lower halves from coming together again.

            Later in the night the three upper halves returned and found the rest of their bodies defiled. The captain of the mariners heard their despaired weeping and hastened downstairs. He found the three daughters of the widow who owned the house he slept in – in the form of flying night-creatures, or aswangs. The asuangs begged for him to wash the ashes from the lower halves of their bodies, and so moved was the captain by their pleas that he himself washed the ashes off with a piece of cloth and water. The asuangs were able to reunite with their lower halves before daylight, when, they said, they would die a horrible death. They thanked the captain profusely, but were angry at the sailors who had done them wrong.

        The captain tried to confront the three sailors who had played the trick on the asuangs, but they had run away. The asuangs pursued them, threatening to kill them unless they atoned for their crime by marriage. At last the three sailors had to submit to fate and return to Capiz as spouses to asuangs.

       Anyway, the asuangs made them good wives. The three sailors who were never mean to the asuangs settled with women from Capiz and became happy. The captain and the commandant stayed in Capiz for a long while.

Creation Myth of the Igorots

ALAMAT -NG PAGLIKHA NG MGA IGOROT

Si Lumawig ang pinaka-makapangyarihan sa lahat ng mga ‘diwata.’ Sa langit siya nakatira ngayon, subalit may isang panahon nuong nakaraan nang tumira siya sa Bontoc, isang nayon ng Igorot, at nag-asawa ng isang dalagang Bontoc. Ang mga bato ng kanilang bahay ay nakikita sa nayon hanggang ngayon.

Si Lumawig ang lumikha sa Igorot, at mula nuon, lagi na niyang inalagaan ang mga ito, tinuruan kung paano malabanan ang mga panganib sa kalikasan, kung paano magtanim, mag-ani at, katunayan, lahat ng alam ng mga Igorot ngayon. Buwan-buwan, pinaparangalan siya sa isang pagdiriwang sa banal (sagrado, holy) na kumpol ng mga puno. Sa paniwala ng mga Bontoc, ang mga puno ay tumubo sa ibabaw ng mga libingan ng mga anak ni Lumawig. Sa buwanang pagdiriwang, nagdarasal ang mga tao na maligtas sa sakit, mag-ani ng maraming pagkain, at magtagumpay sa bakbakan.

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NUONG simula, walang tao sa daigdig. Si Lumawig, ang pinaka-makapangyarihang diwa (espiritu, god ), ay bumaba mula sa langit at pumutol ng maraming yantok (cañas, reeds). Pinaghiwa-hiwalay niya ang mga ito nang tig-2 bago ikinalat sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng daigdig.

Tapos, inutusan niya ang mga ito.
“Magsalita kayong lahat!”

Walang kaabog-abog, ang mga yantok ay naging mga tao, - naging isang babae at isang lalaki ang bawat tig-2 ikinalat sa daigdig. At lahat sila ay nagsimulang magsalita subalit magka-kaiba ang kanilang mga wika.
“Mag-asawa kayong lahat!”
Ito ang sunod na utos ni Lumawig. Sumunod ang mga bagong tao at pagkaraan ng panahon, maraming mga anak ang isinilang. Pagtagal pa, nag-asawa-asawa rin ang mga anak kaya lalong dumami ang mga tao sa daigdig. Lahat ay nagsalita ng wika ng kanilang mga magulang kaya magka-kaiba ang usap-usapan sa iba’t ibang bahagi ng daigdig.

Napansin ni Lumawig na may mga kailangan ang mga tao, at lumapag siya muli sa lupa upang magbigay ng biyaya. Nilikha niya ang asin, at inutos sa mga tao sa isang puok na pakuluan ito hanggang matuyo at tumigas, at ipagbili sa mga kalapit-pangkat. Hindi naunawaan ng mga tao duon kung paano sumunod sa utos kaya nuong pagbalik ni Lumawig, nakita niyang ni hindi hinipo ang asin. Dinala niya ang asin sa puok na tinawag na Mayinit at ang mga tagaruon ang inutusan. Sinunod siya ng mga tagaruon at, dahil dito, ipinahayag ni Lumawig na sila ang laging mag-aari sa asin habang panahon, at sa kanila bibili ng asin ang ibang mga tao.

Tapos, nagpunta naman si Lumawig sa Bontoc at inutusan ang mga tagaruon na kumuha ng luwad (arcilla, clay) at gumawa ng mga palayok (ollas, pots) at banga (tinajas, jars). Nag-ipon ng luwad ang mga tagaruon subalit hindi nila alam kung paano maghugis kaya tabi-tabingi ang ginawang mga banga. Dahil dito, inutos ni Lumawig na lagi na silang kailangang bumili ng banga mula sa ibang tao. Sa puok ng Samoki nagtuloy si Lumawig at ang mga tagaruon ang pinagawa ng mga banga at palayok. Mainam at maganda ang natapos ng mga taga-Samoki kaya inutos ni Lumawig na sila na ang magiging may-ari ng pagpa-paso (alfareria, pottery), na dapat silang gumawa ng maraming palayok at banga na ipagbibili sa ibang tao.

Sa ganitong paraan, naturuan ni Lumawig ang mga tao ay naibigay sa kanila ang kanilang mga kailangan at gamit pa hanggang ngayon.

Alamat Ng Bulkang Mayon

Ang kwentong ito ay nangyari sa Bicol. May isang pinuno roong ang pangalan ay Raha Karawen. Siya ay may anak na napakaganda. Ito ay si Daraga. Mahal na mahal ng raha ang kaisa-isang anak. Ang kagandahan ni Daraga ay napapabalita rin sa iba't-ibang lupain. May isang masugid na manliligaw si Daraga. Ito ay si Kawen. Ginagawa niya ang lahat para mapaibig lang niya ang dalaga. Kahit ano ang gawin ni Kawen, hindi siya makuhang ibigin ni Daraga sapagkat may iniibig na itong iba. Ito ay si Mayun. Siya ay nakatira sa ibang lupain. Nalaman ni Raha Karawen ang tungkol sa mga mangingibig ng kanyang anak. Maayos niyang kinausap ang mga ito. "Kailangang ipakita muna ninyo sa akin na kayo ay karapat-dapat sa pag-ibig ng aking anak. Magsisilbi kayo sa akin," ang sabi ni Raha Karawen. Hindi nagustuhan ni Kawen ang sinabi ng raha. Ayaw niyan magsilbi dahil siya ay anak din ng isang raha. Gumawa siya ng paraan para mapasakanya si Daraga. Tumawag siya ng mga kawal at marahas niyang ipinadukot ito. Itinago nila si Daraga. Nakarating ang balita kay Raha Karawen pati na rin sa binatang si Mayun. Nang matagpuan ni Mayun ang kinalalagyan ni Daraga ay matapang siyang nakipaglaban upang mabawi ito. Takot na takot na yumakap si Daraga kay Mayun. Subalit tinamaan sila ng palaso ni Kawen. Doon na namatay ang nag-iibigang sina Mayun at Daraga. At lumipas ang maraming taon, sumulpot ang magandang bulkan sa lugar na kinamatayan nina Mayun at Daraga. Ito ay tinawag na Bulkang Mayon. Ang kagandahan ng bulkan ang nagpapakita ng kagandahang loob nina Mayun at Daraga.

Alamat Ng Tagalog

Alamat ng Lahing Tagalog Noong araw ay may dalagang nagngangalang Simang. Napakaganda niya kaya’t maraming binatang nangingibig sa kanya. Halos wala na siyang itulak-kabigin sa mga ito. Isang araw ay nagpasya si Simang: “Sinuman sa inyo ang makapagdala sa akin ng isang malaki at buhay na sawa ay pakakasalan ko.” Hindi agad nakasagot ang ga binata. “Sawa? Mahirap humuli ng isang sawa.” Sa wakas ay tumaya ng binatang si Ilog. “Mahal kong Simang,” sabi niya. “Ang lahat ay gagawin ko para sa iyo.” Humanga ang lahat sa salitang binitiwan ni Ilog. Nang tumayo at umalis ang binata, ni isa man ay walang nagkalakas ng loob na sumunod. Matagal na panahon ang nagdaan. Sabik ang lahat na malaman kung ano na ang nangyari kay Ilog. Kakaba-kaba rin si Simang. “Huwag po sanang mapahamak si Ilog,” bulong niya sa sarili. Iyon pala’y mahal na mahal na rin ni Simang ang binata. Naghiyawan sa saya ang lahat ng bumalik si Ilog. Hawak niyasa isang kamay ang ulo ng nagpupumiglas na sawa habang ang isang kamay ay pumipigil sa buntot nito. Nagpalakpakan ang mga tao. “Mabuhay si Ilog! Mabuhay!” Dinala ni Ilog ang sawa kay Simang. “Para sa iyo, mahal ko,” wika niya. Noon naman ay dalawang sundalong Espanyol ang dumating. Napansin nila ang kaguluhan. Lumapit sila upang mag-usyoso. Ngunit hindi nilanapansin ang pinagkakaguluhang sawa na hawak ni Ilog. Ang napansin nila’y ang kagandahan ni Simang. Lumapit pa ang mga dayuhan kay Simang. Itinanong nila sa dalaga ang pangalan ng lugar na iyon. Ngunit hindi sila napansin ni Simang dahil sa buong paghanga itong nakatingin kay Ilog. Itinaas ni Ilog ang ulo ng sawa saka binitiwan ng isang kamay ang buntot nito. Biglang nilingkis ng sawa si Ilog. “Eeeek!” sigawni Simang. “Ilog! Tagain mo!” Hinugot ni Ilog ang itak sa kanyang baywang at tinaga ang sawa. Naputol kaagad ang buntot ng sawa. Tumalsik ang masaganang dugo, ngunit tila buhay na gumagalaw-galaw pa ito. “Eeeek!” muling sigaw ni Simang. “Taga, Ilog! Taga, Ilog!” Sakabila ng kaguluhang naganap, hindi naalis ang pagkatitig ng mga Espanyol sa dalaga. Muli, tinanong nila si Simang. Sumigaw si Simang, “Taga, Ilog! Taga, Ilog!” “Taga, Ilog! Taga-Ilog!” sigaw din ng mga taong nakasaksi sa nangyari kay Ilog. Nang sumunod na araw ay isinalaysay ng dalawang dayuhan ang tungkol sa magandang dalagang kanilang nakita. Sabi pa ila’y nakita nila ang dalaga sa Taga-Ilog. Taga-Ilog. Nang lumaon ito ay naging Tagalog.

Biag ni Lam-Ang ni Pedro Bukaneg (Epikong IlokaNo)

Sina Don Juan at Namongan ay taga Nalbuan, ngayon ay sakop ng La Union. May isa silang anak na lalaki. Ito'y si Lam-ang.

Bago pa isilang si Lam-ang, ang ama nito ay pumunta na sa bundok upang parusahan ang isang pangkat ng mga Igorota na kalaban nila.

Nang isilang si Lam-ang, apat na hilot ang nagtulong-tulong.

Ugali na nga mga Ilokano noong una na tumulong sa mga hilot kung manganganak ang maybahy nila ngunit dahil nga wala si Don Juan, mga kasambahay nila ang tumulong sa pagsilang ni Namongan.

Pagkasilang, nagsalita agad ang sanggol at siya ang humiling na "Lam-ang" ang ipangalan sa kaniya. Siya rin ang pumili ng magiging ninong niya sa binyag. Itinanong pa rin niya sa ina ang ama, kung saan naroron ito, na di pa niya nakikita simula pa sa kanyang pagkasilang. Sinabi na ina ang kinaroroonan ng ama.

Makaraan ang siyam na buwan, nainip na si Lam-ang sa di pagdating ng ama kaya't sinundan niya ito sa kabundukan. May dala siyang iba't- ibang sandata at mga antng-anting na makapag-bibigay-lakas sa kamiya at maaaring gawin siyang hindi makikita.

Talagang pinaghandaan niya ang lakad na ito. Sa kaniyang paglalakbay, inabot siya ng pagkahapo kaya't namahinga sandali. Naidlip siya at napangarap niyang ang pugot na ulo ng ama ay pinagpipistahan na ng mga Igorote. Galit na galit si Lam-ang sa nabatid na sinapit ng ama kaya mabilis na nilakbay ang tirahan ng mga Igorote. Pinagpupuksa niya ang mga ito sa pamamagitan ng dalang mga sandata at anting-anting. Ang isa ay kaniyang pinahirapan lamang saka inalpasan upang siyang magbalita sa iba pang Igorote ng kaniyang tapang, lakas at talino.

 Umuwi si Lam-ang nang nasisiyahan dahil sa nipaghiganti na niya pagkamatay ng ama niya. Nang siya'y magbalik sa Nalbuan, taglay ang tagumpay, pinaliguan siya ng ilang babaing kaibigan sa ilog ng Amburayan, dahil ito'y naging ugali na noon, na pagdating ng isang mandirigma, naliligo siya. Matapos na paliguan si Lam-ang, nanagmatay ang mga isda at iba pang bagay na may buhay na nakatira sa tubig dahil sa kapal ng libag at sama ng amoy na nahugasan sa katawan nito.

Sa kabutihan naman may isang dalagang balita sa kagandahan na nagngangalang Ines Kannoyan. Ito'y pinuntahan ng binatang si Lam-ang upang ligawan, kasama ang kaniyang puting tandang at abuhing aso. Isang masugid na manliligaw ni Ines ang nakasalubong nila, Si Sumarang, na kumutya kay Lam-ang, kaya't sila'y nag-away at dito'y muling nagwagi si Lam-ang.

Napakaraming nanliligaw ang nasa bakuran nina Ines kaya't gumawa sila ng paraan upang sila ay makatawag ng pansin. Ang tandang ay tumilaok at isang bahay ang nabuwal sa tabi. Si Ines ay dumungaw. Ang aso naman ang pinatahol niya at sa isang igalp, tumindig uli ang bahay na natumba. Nakita rin ng magulang ni Ines ang lahat ng iyon at siya'y ipinatawag niyon.

Ang pag-ibig ni Lam-an kay Ines ay ipinahayag ng tandang. Sumagot ang mga magulang ng dalaga na sila'y payag na maging manugang si Lam-ang kun ito'y makapagbibigay ng boteng may dobleng halaga ng sariling ari-arian ng magulang ng dalaga. Nang magbalik si Lam-ang sa Kalanutian, kasama si Namongan at mga kababayan, sila Ines ay ikinasal.

Dala nila ang lahat ng kailangan para sa maringal na kasalan pati ang dote. Ang masayang pagdiriwang ay sinimulan s Kalanutian at tinapos sa Nalbuan, kung saan nanirahan ang mag-asawa pagkatapos ng kasal nila.

Isa parin sa kaugalian sa Kailukuhan, na pagkatapos ng kasal, ang lalaki ay kinakalilangang sumisid sa ilog upang humuli ng Rarang (isda). Sinunod ito ni Lam-ang subalit siya ay sinamang palad na makagat at mapatay ng Berkakan (isang uri ng pating).

 Ang mga buto ni Lam-ang na nasa pusod ng dagat ay ipinasisid at pinatapon ni Donya Ines sa isang kalansay at tinakpan ng tela. Ang tandang ay tumilaok, ang aso ay kumahol at sa bisa ng engkanto, unti-unting kumilos ang mga buto. Sa muling pagkabuhay ni Lam-ang, ang mag-asawa ay namuhay nang maligaya, maluwalhati at matiwasay sa piling ng alagang putting tandang at abuhing aso.