MYTHS, LEGENDS AND
FOLKTALES IN CENTRAL LUZON (REGION III)
2 Myths
Why the Sky is High
In the early
days, when the sky was still low, two brothers named Ingat and Daskol lived
with their parents on Earth.
As their
names indicate, Ingat was careful in everything he did and was, therefore, his
father's right hand man. He was always helping with the work in the
field, and his parents were very pleased with him.
On the other
hand, Daskol did his work sloppily. In the absence of a daughter in the
family, the house work came to be Daskol's responsibility. He fetched
water, cleaned the house, and did the cooking. He also pounded the palay
that his father and Ingat harvested. Even in pounding, Daskol lived up to
his name. Half of the grain he pounded scattered and fell to the
ground. Being naturally lazy and impatient, he did not like the work of
pounding rice.
One day,
Daskol had to pound a greater quantity of palay than usual. He was
irritated because, every time he raised the pestle, it would hit the sky.
His anger added to his strength and desire to finish the work
quickly. So he raised the pestle higher, and every time it hit the sky,
the sky would be raised. In his hurry, Daskol did not notice that the sky
was rising. When he finished pounding rice, he looked up and discovered
that the sky had risen, and that is why it is where it is today.
Why the Sun Shines More Brightly Than the
Moon
Long, long
ago there lived a fairy with two very beautiful daughters. Araw, the older daughter, was very
amiable and had a kind disposition; Buwan,
unlike her sister, was dishonest, cruel, and harsh. She was always
finding fault with Araw.
One night, when the fairy came home from her nocturnal rambles and saw Buwan badly maltreating her elder sister,
she asked God for help against her unruly daughter.
Before this
time, God had prepared very valuable gifts for the two sisters. These
gifts were two enormous diamonds that could light the whole universe.
When God heard the prayer of the fairy, he descended to Earth disguised as a
beggar. Upon learning for himself how bad-tempered Buwan was and how sweet and kind-hearted Araw was,
God gave the older sister her diamond as a reward. Buwan was greatly angered by this favoritism
on the part of the Almighty, so she went to the heavenly kingdom and stole one
of God's diamonds. Then she returned to earth with the precious stone,
but there she found that were jewel was not as brilliant as Araw's.
When God
went back to heaven and learned what Buwan had done, he sent two angels to punish
her. But the angels abused their commission; they seized both sisters and
hurled them into the sea. They they threw the two stones upward into the
sky and there they stuck. But Araw's
diamond was bigger and brighter than the one Buwanstole.
Thereafter, the bigger jewel was called Araw ("day" or "sun")
and the smaller one, Buwan ("moon").
2 Legends
The Legend of Macapuno
In pre-Hispanic days, there was a lagoon that connected with the
River Pasig, where later stood the Chinese Parian, near present Botanical
Gardens. The Pasig lapped quietly against its banks. Sailing slowly past on the
current were floating islands of water-plants, including patches of those
resembling cabbages called quiapo, which that suburb is named after.
Crocodiles--ancient, scraggy-skinned specimens--abounded, and water-fowl filled
the mornings and evenings with their calls. Where the lagoon and shore met in a
labyrinth of waterways, the green fronds of the nipa-palm flourished, and
forest trees grew about the edges, raised a few feet above the level of the
river. This lagoon was later used as a water-entry for the trading champans and
cascos with the Chinese, but gradually it filled up after the Parain was
transferred across the Pasig to the Alcayceria.
Upon the arrival of the
Castilians to the Islands, the petty rajahs and rulers of the settlements
were--almost without exception--men of Borneo or, to more accurately, of the
the sultanate of Brunei, which claimed everything north to Manila Bay. Such places
as Sapa (Sta. Ana) were ruled over by Lakantagan, a Bornean, whose son by
a "Bornean woman" named Pasay--it is said--gave his name to that
settlement. So Kainta, Kalilaya, and Komintang (Tayabas and Batangas) of Panay,
and Bago and Ilo of Negros were Bornean rulers, as was possibly Lakandola, the
grandson of Lontok and Kalangitan. A daughter of Lontok married the ruler of
Sapa (Baliuag), a colony planted from the original Sapa (Sta. Ana), who was
called Balagtas. Bunayog, the ruler of Bua (Nebuy, the chief settlement of
Camarines); Panga, ruler of Lupa; Kayayao ruler of Sabang, settlements of
Bicolandia; and Sumaclob, rajah of the Cuyos were all men of Borneo who paid
tribute to Brunei before its decadence about the end of the16th century.
Its copper money, at least, was current in the beginning of this
century here in the Islands.
Some generations before
the caravels of Legaspi entered Manila Bay, this lagoon was home to a family of
the rajah class who had been exiled from Brunei for some reason connected with
the execution of the Sultan, a cruel and avaricious ruler. Reduced to the
lowest circumstances, Rajah Madia and his wife Kimay made the banks of the
lagoon their home. Without the usual regiment of slaves and with no means of
obtaining them, their household consisted of their only daughter, Macapuno, a
girl of extreme beauty and affability and a princess in her own right; the aged
brother of Madia, named Tidoy; and Tidoy's two sons, Kamanchille and Guanar,
both growing into manhood. The river, marsh, and forest supplied their simple
wants, as it did those of their neighbors on the lush banks of the Pasig.
Although many asked for
the hand of the beautiful and modest Macapuno, none was of sufficient rank to
satisfy Madia and his wife. Attractive and lovable she grew into womanhood, but
lacking a noble suitor, she busied herself solely with the tasks of the
household. If she had dreams, she kept them to herself. In time, age overtook
her parents, who died and were buried according to Bornean customs. Kamanchille
and Guanar, haughtily refusing to take service with the datus of Lusong, became
expert warriors and hunters, supporting their cousin Macapuno, and their aged
father Tidoy, a once-renowned warrior. A year or so passed in this manner for
the reduced family living in exile on the banks of the lagoon by the Pasig.
The day came when a
wandering hero (bayani) from Brunei passed by, saw the beautiful
Macapuno, and fell violently in love with her. She in turn did not discourage
his advances. Having nothing but his arms and valor and pleasing address and
appearance, Luanbakar proposed to marry her, but the cousins, Kamanchille and
Buanar, as heads of the family, were fiercely proud of their high descent and,
following age-old custom, suspicious of all strangers. After conferring with
the viejo Tidoy and Macapuno, they allowed him to follow the regular condition
of an unknown suitor of Malaysia.
This custom stated that the admirer should labor for a certain
period for the family of the maid, until the elders were satisfied that a good
choice had been made and that the suitor would prove an eligible match for the
girl. Luanbakar readily agreed, and the first task appointed him was the
construction of a long dike in order to make part of the lagoon into a fishpond.
This pond, supplied by the tides from the Pasig, would prove a profitable
undertaking in breeding the fish among the roots of the mangroves and nilad.
The work progressed for some time, the dredging and building being done by hand
alone. This was varied by hunting trips in the commons, and Luanbakar proved
his industry and dexterity on all occasions, partly allaying the suspicions of
the two cousins.
Because the fishpond was but a short distance from the house,
Macapuno would carry food to the bayani engaged in his labor of love for her,
and in the flush of youth, they were naturally attracted to each other. But the
cousins of the princess believed that the stranger had not waited for the rite
of marriage and, out of revenge planned, to kill him as he had not followed the
strict custom. They reasoned that to doing so would save their honor,
notwithstanding that the task allotted him had been practically completed and
that their cousin and the bayani were as good as married. In accordance with
Malayan custom, a wrong remains un-righted until death overtakes the guilty. It
is equally un-redressed if the avenger fails to make himself or his aims known
to the victim. The boys then plotted the death of the stranger, either singly
or in the company of each other.
As Luanbakar was busy
finishing the dike, Kamanchille with his hunting spear appeared before him one
day, inquiring if the wild boar he was pursing had passed that way. The bayani
replied, "No," adding that these animals rarely take to the river to
hide. The cousin kept insisting on his story, and Luanbakar turning his head
towards the young man, saw him with his spear poised and pointed in his
direction. The same instant this was launched with such ferocity that it
entered his side below the ribs, passed through the body and hurled him into
the water, while Kamanchille taunted him for his flouting of immemorial custom.
Terribly wounded, Luanbakar climbed the dike, extracted the spear, bound the
mortal wound tightly with his sarong, and saw Kamanchille in full flight
after his treacherous deed.
Certain of him imminent
death, Luanbakar grasped the spear and pursued the flying Kamanchille, shouting
for him to wait and he would show how the wild boar could die. Gaining on the
youth, the latter glancing over his shoulder, tripped over a mangrove root and
fell. At this moment Luanbakar threw the lance with such dexterity that it
passed completely through his slayer, and at the same time, he fell exhausted
beside the body of his enemy. In the moment before their deaths, he whispered
in the ear of Kamanchille that the Great Bathala would be their judge, that he
forgave the cowardly blow, and that he would so testify. And so they died
together.
Macapuno, noting that
Kamanchille did not return after passing that way and apprehensive of his
attitude came to the dike. It was deserted, but the trail of blood told the
story as she followed it to where they lay side by side in death. Tears welled
from her eyes for the fate of her relative and her lover, and for some time, she
gave herself up to silent sorrow. Stifling her grief, she piled branches on the
pair and returned to the house resolved to say nothing and to keep silence over
the affair. Guanar, returning later, asked her about the whereabouts of the
two, and she replied that the bayani and Kamanchille had gone hunting and
awaited him in a distant part of the forest which then extended through
Paco--named after its edible ferns--to the nyun of Sapa itself. Grasping his
spear, he left hastily for the supposed rendezvous, sensing that his brother
was leading the stranger to his death.
Upon his departure
Macapuno took a wooden spade and returned to the scene of the tragedy. The
night had set and turned dark and stormy. Rain from over the distant mountain
pattered on the forest canopies and the lagoon. The wind blew in fitful gusts,
chilling her during her terrible task. Without aid of light, she excavated a
deep grave in which she placed both bodies, weeping bitterly the while, the
work taking some hours to finish. After washing herself in the waters of the
river, she returned to the house and prepared a meal for Guanar. He returned
about midnight carrying a deer which had fallen to his spear and remarking that
he had not found a trace of either his brother or the bayani, although he had
searched the entire forest. Macapuno assured him they would return the next day
without doubt. The succeeding day Guanar himself continued the work on the
fishpond. Upon noticing the traces of blood he reported it to Macapuno,
who replied that it is probably that of some wounded animal in the fight.
While the explanation did not satisfy Guanar, he said nothing.
Some months passed, and the hunters did not return nor was anything further
heard of them. The ancient warrior, Tidoy, passed on, and they were still
more alone. She took the child across the Pasig, entrusting it to an old
woman to bring up. No mention was made of its parents, but princess left
with the old crone all her ornaments as recompense--all the property she had
left in the world.
Macapuno return sadly to
her menial tasks with nothing but memories. The daily gnawing of
conscience tormented her. Unable to stand these, together with the
buffetings of fate, she arrayed herself in her best garments, carefully
weighted them with stones, went to the end of dike and threw herself into the river,
thus ending the tragedy. Guanar, finding her absent, searched for her
high and low, finally discovering her corpse on a sandbar near the mouth of the
Pasig. His sorrow was great, but no amount of remorse could alter the
facts. Recovering the body he dug a grave on the bank in which he buried
the unfortunate Macapuno, but he had nothing to mark the spot.
Looking around he saw a
coconut floating past in the current. This he retrieved and planted it in
the grave to permanently mark it. Returning to the lonely house, he in
turn became disconsolate, brooding over the circumstances that left him the
sole survivor of all his exiled family. He resolved to return to the land
of his birth and take service under some datu (exiled family). He paddled
out to the island of Takaykay from whence he took passage in a boat bearing the
tribute to the Sultan of Brunei, the last of his race.
Years past and the
coconut planted on the grave of Macapuno grew up into a noble palm bearing
fruit in turn. While not so tall as its species, its graceful fronds hid
an abundance of small round nuts. But these were entirely different from
the ordinary variety, being solid, full of meat, and much sweeter to
taste. The wandering traders of Kalilaya and Bai took these nuts to propagate,
and they were thus in high demand.
May not the palm have absorbed the agreeable qualities of the
unfortunate princess--her perfection of form, her sweetness of temper?
That at least is the legend, for this variety of coconut is known by all and is
called Macapuno.
Legend
of Landas de Diablo
A long time ago, there was
a girl named Marikita, who lived in the middle of a rice field. Her home was
very far away from the main road. She was so alluring that every young man in
the village was charmed by her, even Kabanalan, the handsome heir to an enormous
fortune.
and
because of his status, he instantly won Marikita’s attention . He promised
Marikita that if she would only agree to marry him, he would give her anything
that she wants.
She said,
“If you could make me a stone path that would lead to the main road before the
night is done, for tomorrow is Sunday and I would not want to make my feet hurt
one more time, before they reach the church. Make me that bridge by tomorrow.
And tomorrow we shall wed.”
Dazzled
by her charm. Kabanalan promised her that he would build that stone path. When
he and Marikita parted, a shadow fell across his face. “I know that even with
all my wealth I could not fulfill her wish.” he thought sadly. “I would rather
kill myself than to disappoint her.”
The stranger brought out a
piece of paper on which they scrawled their pact. Afterward Kabanalan signed
his name at the bottom of the page with his own blood.
But as Marikita drew near, the mysterious
stranger from the shadows of the lone grove appeared in a whirl of dust between
her and her bridegroom. Everyone who saw him knew him at once. It was the Devil.
“I come
to claim my wage!” he cried, and seized Kabanalan. With this prize in tow, the
Devil disappeared.
Marikita
was left alone, staring after the void the builder of the stone path had left
behind.
Marikita
turn deathly pale as she came to realize what her lover had done for her sake.
She stood still for a long time. Then when her friends from town tried to
approach her, she turned and ran back into her house, and slammed the door
shut. She let no one speak to her, and even her own parents could not come near
her.
Despaired,
he stumbled into a grove where a solitary mango tree stood, and from the deep
shade a handsome stranger emerged. The stranger said to Kabanalan that he could
help him if he would give him his soul. Kabanalan did not gave it a second
thought and agreed. “Yes, I will,” he declared. “If only to please Marikita.”
The very
next morning, Marikita was no less than shocked. She was stepping out, when she
saw this sturdy stone path leading from her doorstep to the main road, where a
carriage and a handsome young man waited, ready to take her to the church. The
young man was Kabanalan. Marikita rushed across the stone path toward him, arms
outstretched.
Marikita
was found dead after that, floating in the river by which she and Kabanalan
used to take long walks. It was said that she had killed herself, but no one
was quite so sure.
2 Folktales
Abadeha,
Filipina Cinderella
Abadeha is a kind and
hardworking young woman. Her wicked stepmother and stepsisters abuse her
and ask her to carry out impossible tasks. Abadeha asks for the help of Bathala
(the creator God), her ancestors and her dead mother. At the river, her cries
for help are heard by the Spirit of the Forest (counterpart of the fairy
godmother). With her guidance, Abadeha is able to accomplish all that her
step-family demands of her.
One day, a prince out hunting
in the forest comes upon the enchanted tree by the grave of Abadeha’s mother.
He sees a ring among the branches and puts it on. By the time he returns to the
palace, his finger has become swollen and painful. The king calls for the
Babaylan, the priest-healer of the land, but even he cannot take the ring off.
That night, the Prince learns
in a dream that only a girl can remove the ring from his finger. Upon hearing
this, the king announces to his people that any girl who can take the ring off
his son’s finger will be offered marriage to the prince.
Of all the maidens who tried, only Abadeha was successful. And
that’s how she became a princess!
The
Clever Husband and Wife
Pedro had been living as a
servant in a doctor’s house for more than nine years. He wanted very much to
have a wife, but he had no business of any kind on which to support one.
One day
he felt very sad. His look of dejection did not escape the notice of his
master, who said, “What is the matter, my boy? Why do you look so sad? Is there
anything I can do to comfort you?”
“Oh,
yes!” said Pedro.
“What
do you want me to do?” asked the doctor.
“Master,”
the man replied, “I want a wife, but I have no money to support one.”
“Oh,
don’t worry about money!” replied his master. “Be ready tomorrow, and I will
let you marry the woman you love.”
The
next day the wedding was held. The doctor let the couple live in a cottage not
far from his hacienda,
and he gave them two hundred pieces of gold. When they received the money, they
hardly knew what to do with it, as Pedro had never had any business of any
sort. “What shall we do after we have spent all our money?” asked the wife.
“Oh, we can ask the doctor for more,” answered Pedro.
Years
passed by, and one day the couple had not even a cent with which to buy food.
So Pedro went to the doctor and asked him for some money. The doctor, who had
always been kind to them, gave him twenty pieces of gold; but these did not
last very long, and it was not many days before the money was all spent. The
husband and wife now thought of another way by which they could get money from
the doctor.
Early
one day Pedro went to the doctor’s house weeping. He said that his wife had
died, and that he had nothing with which to pay for her burial. (He had rubbed
onion-juice on his eyes, so that he looked as if he were really crying.) When
the doctor heard Pedro’s story, he pitied the man, and said to him, “What was
the matter with your wife? How long was she sick?” “For two days,” answered
Pedro.
“Two
days!” exclaimed the doctor, “why did you not call me, then? We should have
been able to save her. Well, take this money and see that she gets a decent
burial.”
Pedro
returned home in good spirits. He found his wife Marta waiting for him at the
door, and they were happy once more; but in a month the money was all used up,
and they were on the point of starving again.
Now,
the doctor had a married sister whom Pedro and his wife had worked for off and
on after their marriage. Pedro told his wife to go to the doctor’s sister, and
tell her that he was dead and that she had no money to pay for the burial.
Marta set out, as she was told; and when she arrived at the sister’s house, the
woman said to her, “Marta, why are you crying?”
“My
husband is dead, and I have no money to pay for his burial,” said Marta,
weeping.
“You
have served us well, so take this money and see that masses are said for your
husband’s soul,” said the kind-hearted mistress.
That
evening the doctor visited his sister to see her son who was sick. The sister
told him that Marta’s husband had died. “No,” answered the doctor, “it was
Marta who died.” They argued and argued, but could not agree; so they finally
decided to send one of the doctor’s servants to see which one was dead. When
Pedro saw the servant coming, he told his wife to lie flat and stiff in the bed
as if she were dead; and when the servant entered, Pedro showed him his dead
wife.
The
servant returned, and told the doctor and his sister that it was Marta who was
dead; but the sister would not believe him, for she said that perhaps he was
joking. So they sent another servant. This time Marta made Pedro lie down stiff
and flat in the bed; and when the servant entered the house, he saw the man
lying as if dead. So he hurried back and told the doctor and his sister what he
had seen. Now neither knew what to believe. The next morning, therefore, the
doctor and his sister together visited the cottage of Pedro. They found the
couple both lying as if dead. After examining them, however, the doctor
realized that they were merely feigning death. He was so pleased by the joke,
and so glad to find his old servants alive, that he took them home with him and
made them stay at his house.
