21st Century Literature from the Regions
Learning Competencies
1.
Identify representative texts and authors from each region (e.g. engage in oral history research
with focus on key personalities from the students regions/province/town;
2. Value the contribution of local writers to the development of regional literary traditions.
BOOST YOURSELF
A.
Can you sing these songs? Fill in the blanks with the correct answer, then
try singing the songs.
1._______bayaan ta ikaw
Mapuli ako sa payaw
Ugaling kon ikaw hidlawon
Ang_____imo lang lantawon.
Kumbento sa diin ang___
__________sa diin ang hustisya
Yari si Dansoy makeha
Makeha sa paghigugma.
_________mo, sa diin panyo ko
Gisigisi-a kay tambihon ko
Ugaling kon matambi mo
_______ta ikaw, asawa mo ako.
3. Iloilo ang banwa ko, ginahingadlan
_______nga pulong ang akon ginmat-an
Dili ko ikaw ______
Banwa ko nahamut-an
Ikaw ang gintunaan sang lalipayan.
_________kami nga tunay
Nga nagapuyo sa higad sang _______
Manami magkiay kiay
Sa ________bug-os ang kalipay.
B.
Do you know any author from Western Visayas? Can you name one major writings that
he/she wrote?
READ ON!
GEOGRAPHICAL SETTING OF PHILIPPINE LITERATURE
Region 1
How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife----------------Manuel Arguilla
Page 1
Region 11
The Giantess and the Three Children---------------------------retold by Ma. Luisa Aguilar-Carino
Bonsai------------------------------------------------------------------Edith L. Tiempo
Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR)
The Great Flood-----------------------------------------------------F. Landa Jocano
The Wedding Dance-----------------------------------------------Amador T. Daquio
Region 111
Florante at Laura---------------------------------------------------Francisco Baltazar
Life’s Shortcuts-----------------------------------------------------Susan V. Ople
Faith, Love, Time, and Dr. Lazaro------------------------------Gregorio T. Brillantes
NCR (National Capital Region)
Medicine and Humanities --------------------------------------Dr. Florantine Herrera, Jr.
The House on Zapote Street------------------------------------Quijano de Manila
Montage-------------------------------------------------------------Ophelia Dimalanta
Region 1V
Mi Ultimo Adios (My Last Farewell)---------------------------Jose P. Rizal
Our Mother Tongue-----------------------------------------------Jose P. Rizal
Noli Me Tangere---------------------------------------------------Jose P. Rizal
El Filibusterismo---------------------------------------------------Jose P. Rizal
Dead Stars---------------------------------------------------------- Paz Marquez-Benitez
Money Is Not Everything---------------------------------------- Isidro Carino
The Money Makers----------------------------------------------- Emma Umali Berthelsen
The Legend of Marinduque-------------------------------------retold by Alfonso P. Santos
The Tomato Game------------------------------------------------N.V.M. Gonzales
Visayas Region
Region V1
Ang Bayong kag Banga------------------------------------------Flavio Zaragosa-Cano
Ang Binunga Sang Bisyo----------------------------------------Flavio Zaragoza-Cano
Will of the River-------------------------------------------------- Alfredo Q. Gonzales
Fray Botod---------------------------------------------------------Graciano Lopez Jaena
Piyesta de Candelaria-------------------------------------------Magdalena Jalandoni
Juanita Cruz------------------------------------------------------ -Magdalena Jalandoni
Ang Gitara----------------------------------------------------------Magdalena Jalandoni
Si Anabella---------------------------------------------------------Magdalena Jalandoni
Ang Mga Tunok Sang Isa Ka Bulak---------------------------Magdalena Jalandoni
Will of the River--------------------------------------------------Alfredo Gonzales
The Day of the Locust------------------------------------------Leoncio Deriada
Mutya Ng Saging------------------------------------------------ Leoncio Deriada
Without the Dawn----------------------------------------------Esteban Javellana
Ang Baboy--------------------------------------------------------John Iremil Teodoro
Region V11
Ug Gi Anod Ako-------------------------------------------------Marcel Navarr
Magnificence----------------------------------------------------Estrella Alfon
Ikaduhang Sugo/Higugmaa and Imong Isigkatawo----Hilda Montaire
Ang Pulahan-----------------------------------------------------Vicente Sotto
Ang Pag-ibig sa Lupang Sinilangan-------------------------Vicente Sotto
Kinabuhing Sugbuhanon------------------------------------- Piux Kabahar
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Bahin kag Yoyoy------------------------------------------------Robert Pableo Lim
Mini---------------------------------------------------------------Buenaventura Rodriguez and
Dionesio Jacosalem
Region V111
An Iroy Nga Tuna----------------------------------------------Iluminado Lucente
Mga Hudas, Herodes at Pilatong Pilipinas--------------Agustin El Amora
Panakayan------------------------------------------------------Francisco Aurelio
Hilaga------------------------------------------------------------Francisco Alvarado
Ambahan Para sa Kuratsa----------------------------------Vicente L. De Veyra
Guin Kasal Hin “Casamiento”------------------------------Casiano Trincera
Despedida kay Kirikay---------------------------------------Eduardo Macabenta
Region 1X
A Song of the Sea---------------------------------------------A.R. Enriquez
Region X
Bantugan-------------------------------------------------------(Maranao Epic)
Region X1
Cactus-----------------------------------------------------------Tita Lacambra Ayala
Paggikan sa Sumilon----------------------------------------Jeneen R. Garcia
The Gift of Naming------------------------------------------Jeneen R. Garcia
Region X11
Datu Bantay at Starbucks------------------------------Christine F. Godinez-Ortega
To a Tree Near a Boulevard---------------------------Anthony Tan
Region X111
Ulahingan (The Dream of Begyasan)---------------Elena G. Maquiso
ARMM
A House Full of Daughters----------------------------Kerima Polotan Tuvera
The Sounds of Sunday---------------------------------Kerima Polotan Tuvera
Region 1 is Ilocos which includes Ilocos Norte, Ilocos Sur, La Union and Pangasinan.
Some literary genes found in Region1 are dung-aw, burbutia, pagsasao, dalot and arikenken.
Famous authors in Region 1 are Manuel Arguilla from La Union, Leona Florentino from Ilocos
Sur and F. Sionil Jose from Pangasinan.
BIAG NI LAM-ANG
(The Life of Lam-ang)
Lam-ang, probably the best known among Philippine epics, is the epic of the Christianized
Ilocanos of Ilocos Norte, Ilocos Sur, La Union and Abra. It is sung in Ilocano during festivals even
today.
The epic unfolds in Nalbuan (La Union) where lived a couple, husband and his wife
Namongan. Namongan gives birth to Lam-ang, a baby of incredible strength and courage. By
some magic, the boy could speak “right away at the moment of birth.”The boy tells his mother
that he should be named Lam-ang. He also asks his motherabout his father’s whereabouts and
learns that he has gone to pursue, with the intention of punishing a runaway Igorot band. LamPage 3
ang arms himself with charms and decides to look for his father. From a dream, he learns that
his father, Don Juan Panganiban has been killed by the Igorots. Later, Lam-ang finds the Igorots
in a sagang, a feast celebrating a successful head-hunting expedition. His father’s head is
displayed in a feast. Except for a single Igorot whom Lam-ang has tortured, the rest of the band
was killed.
When Lam-ang returns home, nine-nine maidens give him a bath in the Amburayan river.
The dirt and the foul smell from his body kill all the fish in the river. He then kills a crocodile
and carries it on his shoulder ashore amid the applause of his companions.
Lam-ang begins another quest when he hears of a beautiful maiden named Ines
Kannoyan, daughter of the richest man in the town of Kalunutian. He tells his mother of his
desire to court the maiden. Although his mother discourages him, he goes anyway, dressed in
gold and accompanied by his pet rooster and white dog.
The giant Sumarang blocks his way and belittles him. Lam-ang defeats him in a duel
and hurls him nine hills away. Later, Sarindadan tries to seduce him, but Lam-ang rejects her
advances.
Reaching Kalanutian, he impresses Ines with his magic. His rooster crows and topples a
small outhouse. His dog barks and the outhouse is rebuilt. Ines invites him to the house where
his rooster serves as Lam-angs spokesman. Ines’ parents ask for a dowry equivalent to their
wealth which Lam-ang agreed to give. Lam-ang returns home to prepare for the wedding and
the presents. He and his townfolk sail on two golden ships to Kalunutian where Lam-ang and
Ines have a Catholic wedding. The townpeople board the ships to Nalbuan to continue the
celebration.
After the celebration, the village headman reminds Lam-ang that the time has come for
him to hunt the rarang a kind of fish. While fishing, a big fish called berkakan (probably of the
shark family) lunges and swallows him. Lam-ang’s death does not surprise Ines for she has
been told by Lam-ang of a premonition that this is going to happen. However, a diver named
Marcos recovers and retrieves his bones. The pet rooster flaps its wings and resurrects Lamang. Lam-ang rewards the diver and lives happily with his wife and pets.
Folk Speech
Folk speech which includes proverbs, riddles, short poems (folk songs) are the shortest
forms of folk literature. Proverbs give teaching and advice or counsel which come in the form of
conversations or sayings. Also known as “ salawikain” , these sayings which have a didactic
value speak of truths about human nature and rules of conduct or morals.
Ilocano
Good men die, but their names do not die.
(Matay dagiti naimbag a tao,
Ngem dagiti naganda saan a matay.)
All who give will benefit.
(Ti amin nga mangtid mapaburan.)
No matter how much you pray, if you don’t plow
You will not harvest anything.
(Uay lualoka a lualo
No daika net agarado
Awanto’t maapitno.)
Pangasinan
It is not the gift but the giver which is important.
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(Aliwan say inter no agsay angiter.)
If it is bad for you, so it is for your fellowman.
(No mauges ed sika
Ontan met ed toon kapara.)
Riddles are a form of Filipino guessing game played by both young and old alike. They are
descriptions of objects using metaphoric language. A pre-colonial literary form, riddles develop
the imagination and sharpen the senses. They are literary games that challenge the mind and
become battles of the wits.
Ajjar tangapakking nga niuk
Awaya ipagalliluk (danum)
(When you cut it, It is mended without a scar)
Answer: water
Folk songs which are handed down orally from generation to generation are short poems
to capture the spirit of the people. These folk composition are sung spontaneously in lyrical
and melodious tempo. They are expressions of peoples’ faith, joy, and hope on varied aspects
of life and its cycle such as work and activity, rituals and religion.
PAMULINAWEN
Pamulinawen, pusok indengamman
Toy umag-asug, agrayo ita sadiam;
Panunotemman, di ka pagintutulagan
Toy agayat agrayo ita sadiam
(Repeat)
Essemo’t diak kalipatan
Toy nasudi unay a nagan
Uray sadin ti ayan, lugar (sadinoman)
Awagakto nga awagan
(no malagipka), Pusok ti mabang-aran)
(Repeat)
Pamulinawen, pusok indengamman
Toy umag-asug, agrayo ita sadiam;
Panunotemman, di ka pagintutulagan
Toy agayat agrayo ita sadiam.
How My Brother Leon Brought Home A Wife
(American Colonial Literature)
By Manuel E. Arguilla
She stepped down from the carretela of Ca Celin with a quick, delicate grace. She was lovely. SHe was
tall. She looked up to my brother with a smile, and her forehead was on a level with his mouth.
"You are Baldo," she said and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Her nails were long, but they were
not painted. She was fragrant like a morning when papayas are in bloom. And a small dimple appeared
momently high on her right cheek. "And this is Labang of whom I have heard so much." She held the
wrist of one hand with the other and looked at Labang, and Labang never stopped chewing his cud. He
swallowed and brought up to his mouth more cud and the sound of his insides was like a drum.
I laid a hand on Labang's massive neck and said to her: "You may scratch his forehead now."
She hesitated and I saw that her eyes were on the long, curving horns. But she came and touched
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Labang's forehead with her long fingers, and Labang never stopped chewing his cud except that his big
eyes half closed. And by and by she was scratching his forehead very daintily.
My brother Leon put down the two trunks on the grassy side of the road. He paid Ca Celin twice the
usual fare from the station to the edge of Nagrebcan. Then he was standing beside us, and she turned to
him eagerly. I watched Ca Celin, where he stood in front of his horse, and he ran his fingers through its
forelock and could not keep his eyes away from her.
"Maria---" my brother Leon said.
He did not say Maring. He did not say Mayang. I knew then that he had always called her Maria and that
to us all she would be Maria; and in my mind I said 'Maria' and it was a beautiful name.
"Yes, Noel."
Now where did she get that name? I pondered the matter quietly to myself, thinking Father might not
like it. But it was only the name of my brother Leon said backward and it sounded much better that way.
"There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother Leon said, gesturing widely toward the west.
She moved close to him and slipped her arm through his. And after a while she said quietly.
"You love Nagrebcan, don't you, Noel?"
Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse loudly. At the bend of the camino real where the big duhat
tree grew, he rattled the handle of his braided rattan whip against the spokes of the wheel.
We stood alone on the roadside.
The sun was in our eyes, for it was dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide and deep and very blue
above us: but along the saw-tooth rim of the Katayaghan hills to the southwest flamed huge masses of
clouds. Before us the fields swam in a golden haze through which floated big purple and red and yellow
bubbles when I looked at the sinking sun. Labang's white coat, which I had wshed and brushed that
morning with coconut husk, glistened like beaten cotton under the lamplight and his horns appeared
tipped with fire.
He faced the sun and from his mouth came a call so loud and vibrant that the earth seemed to tremble
underfoot. And far away in the middle of the field a cow lowed softly in answer.
"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed with him a big
uncertainly, and I saw that he had put his arm around her shoulders.
"Why does he make that sound?" she asked. "I have never heard the like of it."
"There is not another like it," my brother Leon said. "I have yet to hear another bull call like Labang. In
all the world there is no other bull like him."
She was smiling at him, and I stopped in the act of tying the sinta across Labang's neck to the opposite
end of the yoke, because her teeth were very white, her eyes were so full of laughter, and there was the
small dimple high up on her right cheek.
"If you continue to talk about him like that, either I shall fall in love with him or become greatly jealous."
My brother Leon laughed and she laughed and they looked at each other and it seemed to me there was
a world of laughter between them and in them.
I climbed into the cart over the wheel and Labang would have bolted, for he was always like that, but I
kept a firm hold on his rope. He was restless and would not stand still, so that my brother Leon had to
say "Labang" several times. When he was quiet again, my brother Leon lifted the trunks into the cart,
placing the smaller on top.
Page 6
She looked down once at her high-heeled shoes, then she gave her left hand to my brother Leon, placed
a foot on the hub of the wheel, and in one breath she had swung up into the cart. Oh, the fragrance of
her. But Labang was fairly dancing with impatience and it was all I could do to keep him from running
away.
"Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay and hold on to anything."
Then he put a foot on the left shaft and that instand labang leaped forward. My brother Leon laughed as
he drew himself up to the top of the side of the cart and made the slack of the rope hiss above the back
of labang. The wind whistled against my cheeks and the rattling of the wheels on the pebbly road
echoed in my ears.
She sat up straight on the bottom of the cart, legs bent togther to one side, her skirts spread over them
so that only the toes and heels of her shoes were visible. her eyes were on my brother Leon's back; I saw
the wind on her hair. When Labang slowed down, my brother Leon handed to me the rope. I knelt on
the straw inside the cart and pulled on the rope until Labang was merely shuffling along, then I made
him turn around.
"What is it you have forgotten now, Baldo?" my brother Leon said.
I did not say anything but tickled with my fingers the rump of Labang; and away we went---back to
where I had unhitched and waited for them. The sun had sunk and down from the wooded sides of the
Katayaghan hills shadows were stealing into the fields. High up overhead the sky burned with many slow
fires.
When I sent Labang down the deep cut that would take us to the dry bed of the Waig which could be
used as a path to our place during the dry season, my brother Leon laid a hand on my shoulder and said
sternly:
"Who told you to drive through the fields tonight?"
His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I did not look at him or utter a word until we were on the rocky
bottom of the Waig.
"Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay the rope of Labang on you. Why do you follow the Wait instead
of the camino real?"
His fingers bit into my shoulder.
"Father, he told me to follow the Waig tonight, Manong."
Swiftly, his hand fell away from my shoulder and he reached for the rope of Labang. Then my brother
Leon laughed, and he sat back, and laughing still, he said:
"And I suppose Father also told you to hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with him instead of with
Castano and the calesa."
Without waiting for me to answer, he turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you think Father should do
that, now?" He laughed and added, "Have you ever seen so many stars before?"
I looked back and they were sitting side by side, leaning against the trunks, hands clasped across knees.
Seemingly, but a man's height above the tops of the steep banks of the Wait, hung the stars. But in the
deep gorge the shadows had fallen heavily, and even the white of Labang's coat was merely a dim,
grayish blur. Crickets chirped from their homes in the cracks in the banks. The thick, unpleasant smell of
dangla bushes and cooling sun-heated earth mingled with the clean, sharp scent of arrais roots exposed
to the night air and of the hay inside the cart.
"Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep surprise and gladness were in her voice. Very low in the west,
almost touching the ragged edge of the bank, was the star, the biggest and brightest in the sky.
"I have been looking at it," my brother Leon said. "Do you remember how I would tell you that when you
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want to see stars you must come to Nagrebcan?"
"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she murmured, half to herself. "It is so many times bigger and brighter
than it was at Ermita beach."
"The air here is clean, free of dust and smoke."
"So it is, Noel," she said, drawing a long breath.
"Making fun of me, Maria?"
She laughed then and they laughed together and she took my brother Leon's hand and put it against her
face.
I stopped Labang, climbed down, and lighted the lantern that hung from the cart between the wheels.
"Good boy, Baldo," my brother Leon said as I climbed back into the cart, and my heart sant.
Now the shadows took fright and did not crowd so near. Clumps of andadasi and arrais flashed into view
and quickly disappeared as we passed by. Ahead, the elongated shadow of Labang bobbled up and
down and swayed drunkenly from side to side, for the lantern rocked jerkily with the cart.
"Have we far to go yet, Noel?" she asked.
"Ask Baldo," my brother Leon said, "we have been neglecting him."
"I am asking you, Baldo," she said.
Without looking back, I answered, picking my words slowly:
"Soon we will get out of the Wait and pass into the fields. After the fields is home---Manong."
"So near already."
I did not say anything more because I did not know what to make of the tone of her voice as she said her
last words. All the laughter seemed to have gone out of her. I waited for my brother Leon to say
something, but he was not saying anything. Suddenly he broke out into song and the song was 'Sky
Sown with Stars'---the same that he and Father sang when we cut hay in the fields at night before he
went away to study. He must have taught her the song because she joined him, and her voice flowed
into his like a gentle stream meeting a stronger one. And each time the wheels encountered a big rock,
her voice would catch in her throat, but my brother Leon would sing on, until, laughing softly, she would
join him again.
Then we were climbing out into the fields, and through the spokes of the wheels the light of the lantern
mocked the shadows. Labang quickened his steps. The jolting became more frequent and painful as we
crossed the low dikes.
"But it is so very wide here," she said. The light of the stars broke and scattered the darkness so that one
could see far on every side, though indistinctly.
"You miss the houses, and the cars, and the people and the noise, don't you?" My brother Leon stopped
singing.
"Yes, but in a different way. I am glad they are not here."
With difficulty I turned Labang to the left, for he wanted to go straight on. He was breathing hard, but I
knew he was more thirsty than tired. In a little while we drope up the grassy side onto the camino real.
"---you see," my brother Leon was explaining, "the camino real curves around the foot of the
Katayaghan hills and passes by our house. We drove through the fields because---but I'll be asking
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Father as soon as we get home."
"Noel," she said.
"Yes, Maria."
"I am afraid. He may not like me."
"Does that worry you still, Maria?" my brother Leon said. "From the way you talk, he might be an ogre,
for all the world. Except when his leg that was wounded in the Revolution is troubling him, Father is the
mildest-tempered, gentlest man I know."
We came to the house of Lacay Julian and I spoke to Labang loudly, but Moning did not come to the
window, so I surmised she must be eating with the rest of her family. And I thought of the food being
made ready at home and my mouth watered. We met the twins, Urong and Celin, and I said "Hoy!"
calling them by name. And they shouted back and asked if my brother Leon and his wife were with me.
And my brother Leon shouted to them and then told me to make Labang run; their answers were lost in
the noise of the wheels.
I stopped labang on the road before our house and would have gotten down but my brother Leon took
the rope and told me to stay in the cart. He turned Labang into the open gate and we dashed into our
yard. I thought we would crash into the camachile tree, but my brother Leon reined in Labang in time.
There was light downstairs in the kitchen, and Mother stood in the doorway, and I could see her smiling
shyly. My brother Leon was helping Maria over the wheel. The first words that fell from his lips after he
had kissed Mother's hand were:
"Father... where is he?"
"He is in his room upstairs," Mother said, her face becoming serious. "His leg is bothering him again."
I did not hear anything more because I had to go back to the cart to unhitch Labang. But I hardly tied
him under the barn when I heard Father calling me. I met my brother Leon going to bring up the trunks.
As I passed through the kitchen, there were Mother and my sister Aurelia and Maria and it seemed to
me they were crying, all of them.
There was no light in Father's room. There was no movement. He sat in the big armchair by the western
window, and a star shone directly through it. He was smoking, but he removed the roll of tobacco from
his mouth when he saw me. He laid it carefully on the windowsill before speaking.
"Did you meet anybody on the way?" he asked.
"No, Father," I said. "Nobody passes through the Waig at night."
He reached for his roll of tobacco and hithced himself up in the chair.
"She is very beautiful, Father."
"Was she afraid of Labang?" My father had not raised his voice, but the room seemed to resound with it.
And again I saw her eyes on the long curving horns and the arm of my brother Leon around her
shoulders.
"No, Father, she was not afraid."
"On the way---"
"She looked at the stars, Father. And Manong Leon sang."
"What did he sing?"
"---Sky Sown with Stars... She sang with him."
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He was silent again. I could hear the low voices of Mother and my sister Aurelia downstairs. There was
also the voice of my brother Leon, and I thought that Father's voice must have been like it when Father
was young. He had laid the roll of tobacco on the windowsill once more. I watched the smoke waver
faintly upward from the lighted end and vanish slowly into the night outside.
The door opened and my brother Leon and Maria came in.
"Have you watered Labang?" Father spoke to me.
I told him that Labang was resting yet under the barn.
"It is time you watered him, my son," my father said.
I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall. Beside my brother Leon, she was tall and very still.
Then I went out, and in the darkened hall the fragrance of her was like a morning when papayas are in
bloom.
On a separate sheet of paper, answer the following questions correctly:
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
Who is narrating the story? Why did the author make him the narrator?
Describe Maria physically as seen by Baldo.
What tests did Leon’s father give to Maria as evidenced in the story?
Why did Maria call Leon Noel? How do you describe their relationship?
What characteristics of Maria are seen from the fact that she also memorized the
family’s song “Sky Sown with the Stars”?
Region 11 is Cagayan Valley composed of Batanes , Cagayan, Isabela, Nueva Viscaya and
Quirino. It was in the historic town of Palanan that General Emilio Aguinaldo was captured by
the Americans.
.
“BONSAI”
Edith L. Tiempo
Edith L. Tiempo was born in Bayombong Nueva Viscaya on April 22, 1919. Considered as one
of the finest Filipino writers, she is s poet, factionalist, teacher and literary critic. She is the daughter of
Salvador T. Lopez.
All that I love
I fold over once
And once again
And keep it in box
Or a slit in a hallow post
Or in my shoe.
All that I love?
Why, Yes but for the moment
And for all the time, both
Something that folds and keeps easy
Son’s note, Dad’s one gaudy tie
A roto picture of a young queen
A blue Indian shawl, even
A money bill.
It’s utter sublimation
A feat, this heart’s control
Moment to moment
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To scale all love down
To a cupped hand’s size.
Till seashells are broken pieces
From God’s own bright teeth
And life and love are real
Things you can run and
Breathless hand over
To the merest child.
Ibanag Folksongs
Ibanag folksongs are composed of harana or serenade in rustic communities. These songs
are both a form of nocturnal recreation among the “babbagitolang” and a way of starting a
courtship for a “magingnganay”. These love folksongs are common during wedding and other
social events.
“O LAPPAWA MAKAYAYA”
Nga inimmi-imimian ng mata,
Para nakuantu ari ka matay,
Tape manayuk ka gugammay.
(O lovely flo’er
My eyes behold forever,
May you not wither, nor die
That long you be gem of my eye.)
Some Ibanag folk songs were inspired by the reaction of people toward their
environment, expression of feelings and emotion caused by their work, labors, government
leaders and relationship among fellowmen.
“PAGAYAYA”
Pagayaya ay a metallugaring
I pattaradde tam ngaman
Pagayaya, Palu panggia
Pangawanan ta zaranga,
Para Nakuan tu yao nga gayon,
Makeyawa tam kapawa
Na zigi ngafulotan
(Rejoicing)
Happiness is the end
Of our being together
Happiness is the well-being
And elimination of suffering
May it be that this occasion,
Bring us satisfaction
Which will make us forget
Our hatred and suffering.
Answer the following correctly:
1. What is a rustic community?
2. What are the two forms of the Ibanag harana?
3. When is an Ibanag folk song commonly sung?
4. What are the common sources of inspiration for Ibanag love folk song?
Page 11
The Cordillera Administrative Region (CAR) is composed of six provinces namely Abra,
Benguet, Ifugao, Kalinga, Mountain Province and Apayao. The regional center is Baguio City.
Among the literary forms in CAR are myths, riddles, oggood, sudsud and ullalim. One
outstanding writer from CAR is Ma. Luisa Aguilar Carino from Baguio.
Wedding Dance
By Amador Daguio
Amador T. Daguio was born in 1912 in Mountain Province which became the setting for
most of his stories. He studied at the University of the Philippines and took up a graduate course at
Stanford University. His works have been included in many anthologies.
Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the headhigh threshold.
Clinging to the log, he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow door. He slid
back the cover, stepped inside, then pushed the cover back in place. After some moments during which
he seemed to wait, he talked to the listening darkness.
"I'm sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry. But neither of us can help it."
The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls of the dark house like muffled roars of falling waters.
The woman who had moved with a start when the sliding door opened had been hearing the gangsas for
she did not know how long. There was a sudden rush of fire in her. She gave no sign that she heard
Awiyao, but continued to sit unmoving in the darkness.
But Awiyao knew that she heard him and his heart pitied her. He crawled on all fours to the middle of
the room; he knew exactly where the stove was. With bare fingers he stirred the covered smoldering
embers, and blew into the stove. When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces of pine on them,
then full round logs as his arms. The room brightened.
"Why don't you go out," he said, "and join the dancing women?" He felt a pang inside him, because
what he said was really not the right thing to say and because the woman did not stir. "You should join
the dancers," he said, "as if--as if nothing had happened." He looked at the woman huddled in a corner
of the room, leaning against the wall. The stove fire played with strange moving shadows and lights
upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her sullenness was not because of anger or hate.
"Go out--go out and dance. If you really don't hate me for this separation, go out and dance. One of the
men will see you dance well; he will like your dancing, he will marry you. Who knows but that, with him,
you will be luckier than you were with me."
"I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't want any other man."
He felt relieved that at least she talked: "You know very well that I won't want any other woman either.
You know that, don't you? Lumnay, you know it, don't you?"
She did not answer him.
"You know it Lumnay, don't you?" he repeated.
"Yes, I know," she said weakly.
"It is not my fault," he said, feeling relieved. "You cannot blame me; I have been a good husband to
you."
"Neither can you blame me," she said. She seemed about to cry.
"No, you have been very good to me. You have been a good wife. I have nothing to say against you." He
set some of the burning wood in place. "It's only that a man must have a child. Seven harvests is just too
long to wait. Yes, we have waited too long. We should have another chance before it is too late for both
of us."
This time the woman stirred, stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the blanket
more snugly around herself.
"You know that I have done my best," she said. "I have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have sacrificed many
chickens in my prayers."
"Yes, I know."
"You remember how angry you were once when you came home from your work in the terrace because
I butchered one of our pigs without your permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan, because, like you, I
wanted to have a child. But what could I do?"
"Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child," he said. He stirred the fire. The spark rose through the
crackles of the flames. The smoke and soot went up the ceiling.
Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo flooring
in place. She tugged at the rattan flooring. Each time she did this the split bamboo went up and came
Page 12
down with a slight rattle. The gong of the dancers clamorously called in her care through the walls.
Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat, paused before her, looked at her bronzed and sturdy
face, then turned to where the jars of water stood piled one over the other. Awiyao took a coconut cup
and dipped it in the top jar and drank. Lumnay had filled the jars from the mountain creek early that
evening.
"I came home," he said. "Because I did not find you among the dancers. Of course, I am not forcing you
to come, if you don't want to join my wedding ceremony. I came to tell you that Madulimay, although I
am marrying her, can never become as good as you are. She is not as strong in planting beans, not as
fast in cleaning water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You are one of the best wives in the
whole village."
"That has not done me any good, has it?" She said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost seemed to
smile.
He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and came closer to her. He held her face between his hands
and looked longingly at her beauty. But her eyes looked away. Never again would he hold her face. The
next day she would not be his any more. She would go back to her parents. He let go of her face, and
she bent to the floor again and looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the split bamboo floor.
"This house is yours," he said. "I built it for you. Make it your own, live in it as long as you wish. I will
build another house for Madulimay."
"I have no need for a house," she said slowly. "I'll go to my own house. My parents are old. They will
need help in the planting of the beans, in the pounding of the rice."
"I will give you the field that I dug out of the mountains during the first year of our marriage," he said.
"You know I did it for you. You helped me to make it for the two of us."
"I have no use for any field," she said.
He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a time.
"Go back to the dance," she said finally. "It is not right for you to be here. They will wonder where you
are, and Madulimay will not feel good. Go back to the dance."
"I would feel better if you could come, and dance---for the last time. The gangsas are playing."
"You know that I cannot."
"Lumnay," he said tenderly. "Lumnay, if I did this it is because of my need for a child. You know that life
is not worth living without a child. The man have mocked me behind my back. You know that."
"I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay."
She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, and sobbed.
She thought of the seven harvests that had passed, the high hopes they had in the beginning of their
new life, the day he took her away from her parents across the roaring river, on the other side of the
mountain, the trip up the trail which they had to climb, the steep canyon which they had to cross. The
waters boiled in her mind in forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the waters tolled and growled,
resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away now from
somewhere on the tops of the other ranges, and they had looked carefully at the buttresses of rocks
they had to step on---a slip would have meant death.
They both drank of the water then rested on the other bank before they made the final climb to the
other side of the mountain.
She looked at his face with the fire playing upon his features---hard and strong, and kind. He had a sense
of lightness in his way of saying things which often made her and the village people laugh. How proud
she had been of his humor. The muscles where taut and firm, bronze and compact in their hold upon his
skull---how frank his bright eyes were. She looked at his body the carved out of the mountains
five fields for her; his wide and supple torso heaved as if a slab of shining lumber were heaving; his arms
and legs flowed down in fluent muscles--he was strong and for that she had lost him.
She flung herself upon his knees and clung to them. "Awiyao, Awiyao, my husband," she cried. "I did
everything to have a child," she said passionately in a hoarse whisper. "Look at me," she cried. "Look at
my body. Then it was full of promise. It could dance; it could work fast in the fields; it could climb the
mountains fast. Even now it is firm, full. But, Awiyao, I am useless. I must die."
"It will not be right to die," he said, gathering her in his arms. Her whole warm naked naked breast
quivered against his own; she clung now to his neck, and her hand lay upon his right shoulder; her hair
flowed down in cascades of gleaming darkness.
"I don't care about the fields," she said. "I don't care about the house. I don't care for anything but you.
I'll have no other man."
"Then you'll always be fruitless."
"I'll go back to my father, I'll die."
"Then you hate me," he said. "If you die it means you hate me. You do not want me to have a child. You
do not want my name to live on in our tribe."
Page 13
She was silent.
"If I do not try a second time," he explained, "it means I'll die. Nobody will get the fields I have carved
out of the mountains; nobody will come after me."
"If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder. "No--no, I don't
want you to fail."
"If I fail," he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both of us will die together. Both of us will vanish from the
life of our tribe."
The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and faraway.
"I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me keep my beads," she half-whispered.
"You will keep the beads. They come from far-off times. My grandmother said they come from up North,
from the slant-eyed people across the sea. You keep them, Lumnay. They are worth twenty fields."
"I'll keep them because they stand for the love you have for me," she said. "I love you. I love you and
have nothing to give."
She took herself away from him, for a voice was calling out to him from outside. "Awiyao! Awiyao! O
Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!"
"I am not in hurry."
"The elders will scold you. You had better go."
"Not until you tell me that it is all right with you."
"It is all right with me."
He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the tribe," he said.
"I know," she said.
He went to the door.
"Awiyao!"
He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. In pain he turned to her. Her face was in agony. It pained him
to leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it that made a man wish for a child? What was it in
life, in the work in the field, in the planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in the communing
with husband and wife, in the whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish for the laughter and
speech of a child? Suppose he changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law demand, anyway, that a
man, to be a man, must have a child to come after him? And if he was fruitless--but he loved Lumnay. It
was like taking away of his life to leave her like this.
"Awiyao," she said, and her eyes seemed to smile in the light. "The beads!" He turned back and walked
to the farthest corner of their room, to the trunk where they kept their worldly possession---his battleax and his spear points, her betel nut box and her beads. He dug out from the darkness the beads which
had been given to him by his grandmother to give to Lumnay on the beads on, and tied them in place.
The white and jade and deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. She suddenly clung to him, clung to
his neck as if she would never let him go.
"Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she closed her eyes and huried her face in his neck.
The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried out into the night.
Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. Then she went to the door and opened it. The moonlight
struck her face; the moonlight spilled itself on the whole village.
She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other houses. She
knew that all the houses were empty that the whole tribe was at the dance. Only she was absent. And
yet was she not the best dancer of the village? Did she not have the most lightness and grace? Could she
not, alone among all women, dance like a bird tripping for grains on the ground, beautifully
timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men praise her supple body, and the women envy the way
she stretched her hands like the wings of the mountain eagle now and then as she danced? How long
ago did she dance at her own wedding? Tonight, all the women who counted, who once danced in her
honor, were dancing now in honor of another whose only claim was that perhaps she could give her
husband a child.
"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not right,"
she said.
Suddenly she found courage. She would go to the dance. She would go to the chief of the village, to the
elders, to tell them it was not right. Awiyao was hers; nobody could take him away from her. Let her be
the first woman to complain, to denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take another woman. She
would tell Awiyao to come back to her. He surely would relent. Was not their love as strong as the
river?
She made for the other side of the village where the dancing was. There was a flaming glow over the
whole place; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamored more loudly now, and it seemed they
Page 14
were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The man leaped lightly
with their gangsas as they circled the dancing women decked in feast garments and beads, tripping on
the ground like graceful birds, following their men. Her heart warmed to the flaming call of the dance;
strange heat in her blood welled up, and she started to run. But the gleaming brightness of the bonfire
commanded her to stop. Did anybody see her approach?
She stopped. What if somebody had seen her coming? The flames of the bonfire leaped in countless
sparks which spread and rose like yellow points and died out in the night. The blaze reached out to her
like a spreading radiance. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast.
Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground, away from the village. She thought of the new clearing
of beans which Awiyao and she had started to make only four moons before. She followed the trail
above the village.
When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hand, and the stream
water was very cold. The trail went up again, and she was in the moonlight shadows among the trees
and shrubs. Slowly she climbed the mountain.
When Lumnay reached the clearing, she cold see from where she stood the blazing bonfire at the edge
of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-off clamor of the gongs, still rich in their
sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they seemed to call far
to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their gratitude for her
sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.
Lumnay though of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy carrying his
heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. She had met him one day as she was on her
way to fill her clay jars with water. He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest; and she had made
him drink the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After that it did not take him long to decide
to throw his spear on the stairs of her father's house in token on his desire to marry her.
The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to stir the leaves of the bean
plants. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to sit down. The bean plants now surrounded her, and
she was lost among them.
A few more weeks, a few more months, a few more harvests---what did it matter? She would be holding
the bean flowers, soft in the texture, silken almost, but moist where the dew got into them, silver to
look at, silver on the light blue, blooming whiteness, when the morning comes. The stretching of the
bean pods full length from the hearts of the wilting petals would go on.
Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.
Answer the following questions correctly:
1, Describe and analyze the main characters in the story.
2. How did the setting of the story contribute to the development of the mood and atmosphere of the
poem?
3. Explain the title “Wedding Dance”.
4. Compare and Contrast the beliefs of the people in the story with other ethnic group in the
Philippines.
Region 111 is Central Luzon composed of Aurora, Bataan, Bulacan, Nueva Ecija,
Pampanga, Tarlac and Zambales. Riddles and balagtasan are among the literary forms found in
Region 3. Some famous writers of Region 3 are Francisco Baltazar, Virgilio Almario and Jose
Corazon de Jesus all from Bulacan, and Martin Magsano from Pangasinan.
“FLORANTE AT LAURA”
Francisco Baltazar
Born on April 2, 1788 in Bigaa, Bulacan, Francisco Baltazar was a moralist, philosopher
and a poet. His work Florante at Laura is the most famous metrical romancein Philippine
literary history while his famous korido, “Ang Ibong Adarna”, was in octosyllabic quatrain, each
fine consisting of eight syllables. Dedicated to a woman “Selya”, Florante at Laura an awit, was
written in dodecasyllabic quatrains, or four lines, each line in twelve syllables. This awit is rich
proverb-like texts and sayings on varied social themes. The following are excerpts of most
quoted and remembered stanzas from the poem translated by Trinidad Tarrosa Subido.
On exploitations of evil leaders:
Page 15
14
“Sa loob at labas ng bayan kong sawi,
Kaliluha’y siyang nangyayaring hari,
Kagalinga’t bait ay nalulugami,
Ininis sa hukay ng dusa’t pighati.”
“There hapless state, and even ‘yond
Treason has flung his tyrant-bond;
Virtue the while less moribund,
Stifled in sloughs of deep despond.”
19
“O taksil na pita sa yama’t mataas!
O hangad sa puring hanging lumilipas!
Ikaw ang dahilan ng kasam-ang lahat,
At niring nasapit sa kahabag-habag.”
On Greed for wealth and pow’r and praise:
(Which are but winds at fleeting pace)
One may to you, these evils trace,
With all the ills I now embrace.”
On passion and love:
80
“O pagsintang labis na makapangyarihan
sampung mag-aama’y iyong nasasaklaw
pag ikaw ang nasok sa puso nunuman,
Hahamaking lahat masunod ka lamang.
“O Love! Thou-all omnipotent one,
Who sporteth ev’n with sire and son,
Once sworn top thee, a heart then on
Defies all else; thy will be done.”
On child discipline:
197
“Pa’ibig anaki’y aking nakilala,
Di dapat palakihin ang bata sa saya;
At sa katuwaa’y kappa namihasa
Kung lumaki’y walang hihinting ginhawa.”
“Love doth reveal to me it is
Wrong to bring up a child in bliss;
If happiness be always his,
In age true comfort will he miss.”
“Ang laki sa layaw karaniw’y hubad
sa bait at muni’t sa hatol ay salat;
masaklap na bunga ng maling paglingap,
habag ng magulang sa irog na anak.”
“Who grows in ease is often bare
virtue, sense, and judgment fairSour fruit of misdirected careHis loving parents despair.”
Page 16
NCR means National Capital Region or the Metropolitan Manila which is the
Administrative region situated on an isthmus bounded by Manila Bay to the west and Laguna
de Bay to the southeast and divided by Pasig River that links the two bodies of water. Metro
Manila is the general term for the metropolitan area that contains the City of Manila as well as
sixteen surrounding cities and municipalities.
Some of the prominent writers from NCR are: Nick Joaquin, Francisco Arcellana, Lualhati
Bautista, Cirilo Bautista, Ruth Mabanglo, Buenaventura Medina Jr., Amado Hernandez,
Genoveva Matute and Rosario de Guzman.
THE HOUSE ON ZAPOTE STREET
Quijano de Manila
Dr. Leonardo Quitangon, a soft-spoken,mild-mannered, cool-tempered Caviteno,was still fancy-free at 35
when he returned to Manila, after six years abroad. Then, at the University of Santo Tomas, where hewent to
reach, he met Lydia Cabading, amedical intern. He liked her quiet ways and began to date her steadily. They
went to the movies and to baketballgames and he took her a number oftimes to his house in Sta. Mesa, to meet
his family.
Lydia was then only 23 and looked like a sweetunspoiled girl, but there wasa slight air of mystery about her.
Leonardo and his brothers noticed that she almost never spoke of her home life orher childhood; she seemed to
have no gay early memories to share with her lover, as sweethearts usually craveto do. And whenever it looked
as if she might have tostay out late, she would say: "I'll have totell my father first". And off she would go,
wherever she was, to tell herfather, though it meant going all the way to Makati, Rizal, where shelived with her
parents in a new houseon Zapote Street.
TheQuitangons understood that she was an only child and that her parents were, therefore, over-zealous
inlooking after her. Her father usually took her to school and fetched her after classes, and had been known to
threaten to arrest young men who stared at heron the streets or pressed too closeagainst her on jeepneys. This
high-handedness seemed natural enough, for Pablo Cabading, Lydia's father was a member of theManila
Police Depatment.
After Lydiafinished her internship, Leopardo Quitangon became a regular visitor at the house on Zapote Street:
hewas helping her prepare for the board exams. Her family seemed to like him. The mother
Anunciacion,struck him as a mousy woman unable to speak save ather husband's bidding. There wasa foster
son, a little boy the Cabadings had adopted. As for Pablo Cabading, he was a fine strapping man, an Ilocano,
whogave the impression of being taller than he was and looked every inch an agent of the law: full of brawn
andguts and force, and smoldering with vitality. Hewas a natty dresser, liked youthful colors and styles,
decorated his house with pictures of himself and, at50, looked younger than his inarticulate wife, who was
actually two yearsyounger than he.
WhenLeonardo started frequenting the house on Zapote Street, Cabading told him: ill be frank with you. None
of Lydia's boyfriends ever lasted ten minutesin this house. I didn't like them and I told them so and made them
getout." Then he added laying a hand on the young doctor's shoulder:"But I like you. You are agood man."
Therest of the household were two very young maids who spoke almost no Tagalog,and two very fierce dogs,
chained to the front door in the day time, unchained in the front yard at night.
The house of Zapote Street is in the current architectural cliché: the hoity-toity Philippine split-level
suburbanstyle—a half-story perched above the living area, to which it is bound by the slope of the roof and
which it overlooksfrom a balcony, so that a person standing inthe sala can see the doors of the bedrooms and
bathroom just above his head. The house is painted, as isalso the current fashion, in various pastel shades,a
different color to every three or four planks. The inevitable piazza curvesaround two sides of the house, which
has a strip of lawn and a low wall all around it. The Cabadings did notkeep a car, but the house provides for an
eventualgarage and driveway. This, and the furniture, the shell lamps and thefancy bric-a-brac that clutters the
Page 17
narrow house indicate that the Cabadingshad not only risen high enough to justify their split-level pretensions
but were expecting to gohigher.
Lydia took the board exams and passed them. Thelovers asked her father'spermission to wed. Cabading laid
down two conditions: that the wedding would ba a lavish one and that was topay a downy of P5.000.00. The
youngdoctor said that he could afford the big wedding but the big dowry. Cabading shrugged his shoulders; no
dowry, nomarriage.
Leonaradospent some frantic weeks scraping up cash and managed to gather P3.000.00. Cabading agreed to
reducehis price to that amount, then laid down a final condition: after the wedding, Lydia and Leonardo must
make their home at the house on Zapote Street.
"I built this house for Lydia," said Cabading,"and I want her to live here even when she's married. Besides, her
mother couldn't bear to beseparated from Lydia, her only child."
Therewas nothing. Leonardo could do but consent.
Lydia and Leonardo were on September 10 last year,at the Cathedral of Manila,with Mrs. Delfin Montano,
wife of the Cavitegovernor, and Senator Ferdinand Marcos as sponsors. The reception was at theSelecta. The
status gods of Suburdia were properly propitiated. Then thenewlyweds went to live on Zapote Street -- and
Leonardo almost immediately realizedwhy Lydiahad been so reticent and mysterious about her home life.
The cozy family group that charmed him in courtship days turned out to be rather too cozy. The entire
householdrevolved in submission around Pablo Cabading. The daughter, mother, thefoster-son, the maids and
even the dogs trembled when the lifted his voice. Cabading liked to brag that was a"killer": in 1946 hehad shot
dead two American soldiers he caught robbing a neighbor's house in Quezon City.
Leonardo found himself within a family turned in on itself, self-enclosedand self-sufficient — in a house that
had no neighbors and no needfor any. His brothers say that he made morefriends in the neighborhood within
the couple of months he stayed there than the Cabadings had made in a year. Pablo Cabading did not like what
his to stray out of,and what was not his to stray into,his house. And within that house he wanted to be the
center of everything, even of his daughter's honeymoon.
WheneverLeonardo and Lydiawent to the movies or for a ride, Cabading insisted on being taken along. If they
seated him on the back scat whilethey sat together in front,be raged and glowered. He wanted to sit in front
with them.
WhenLeonardo came home from work, he must not tarry with Lydia in the bedroom chatting: both of them
must comedown at once to the sala and talkwith their father. Leonardo explained that he was not much of a
talking: "That's why I fell in love with Lydia, becauseshe's the quiet type too". No matter, said Cabading. They
didn't have to talk at all; he would do allthe talking himself, so longas they sat there in the sala before his eyes.
So, his compact family group sat around him at night, silent, while Cabading talked and talked. But, finally,
thetalk had stop, the listeners had to rise and retire - and it was this moment that Cabading seemed unable
tobear. He couldn't bear to see Lydia andLeonardo rise and go up together to their room. One night, unable to
bear it any longer he shouted, as they roseto retire:
"Lydia,you sleep with your mother tonight. She has a toothache." After a dead look at her husband, Lydia
obeyed.Leonardo went to bed alone.
Theincident would be repeated: there would always be other reasons, besides Mrs. Cabading's toothaches.
What horrified Leonardo was not merely what being done to him but his increasing acquiesces. Had his spirit
been soquickly broken? Was he, too, like the rest of the household, being drawn to revolve, silently
andobediently, around the masterof the house?
Page 18
Once,late at night, he suddenly showed up at his parents’ house in Sta. Mesa and hisbrothers were shocked at
the great in him within so short a time. He looked terrified. What had happened? Hiscar had broken down and
he had hadit repaired and now he could not go home. But why not?
"Youdon't know my father-in-law," he groaned. "Everybody in that house must be in by a certain hour.
Otherwise, the gatesare locked, the doors are locked, thewindows are locked. Nobody can get in anymore!”
A younger brother, Gene offered to accompany him home and explain to Cabading what had happened. The
two rode toZapote and found the house darkand locked up.
Says Gene: "That memory makes my blood boil -- my eldest brother fearfully clanging and clanging the gate,
andnobody to let him in. 1 wouldn't have waited a second, but he waited five, ten, fifteen minutes, knockingat
thai gate, begging to be let in. I couldn't haveit!"
In the end the two brothers rode back to Sta. Mesa, where Leonardo spentthe night. When he returned to the
house onZapote the next day, his father-in-law greeted him with a sarcastic question:"Where were you? At a
basketball game?"
Leonardo became anxious to take his wife away from that house. He talked it over with her, then they went
totell her father. Said Cabading bluntly: "If she goes with you, I'll shoot her head before your eyes."
Hisbrothers urged him to buy a gun, but Leonardo felt in his pocket and said, "I've got my rosary." Cried his
brother Gene:"You can't fight a gun with a rosary!".
When Lydia took heroath as a physician, Cabading announced that only he and his wife would accompany
Lydia to theceremony. I would not be fair, he said, to let Leonardo, who had not borne the expenses of
Lydia'seducation, to share that momentof glory too. Leonardo said that, if he would like them at least to use his
car. The offer was rejected.Cabading preferred to hire a taxi.
Afterabout two months at the house on Zapote Street, Leonardo moved out, alone. Her parents would not let
Lydia go andshe herself was too afraid to leave.During the succeeding weeks, efforts to contact her proved
futile. The house on Zapote became even more closed tothe outside world. If Lydiaemerged from it at all, she
was alwaysaccompanied by her father, mother or foster-brother, or by all three.
Whenher husband heard that she had started working at a hospital he went there to see her but instead met
herfather coming to fetch her. The very next day, Lydiawas no longer working at the hospital.
Leonardoknew that she was with child and he was determined to bear all her prenatal expenses. He went to
Zapote oneday when her father was out and persuaded her to come out to the yard but could not make her
make themoney he offered across the locked gate. "Justmail it," she cried and fled into the house. He sent her a
check byregistered mail; it was promptly mailed back to him.
OnChristmas Eve, Leonardo returned to the house on Zapote with a gift for his wife, and stood knocking at the
gatefor so long the neighbors gathered at windows to watch him. Finally, he was allowed to enter, present
hisgift to Lydia and talk with her for a moment. She saidthat her father seemed agreeable to ameeting with
Leonardo's father, to discuss the young couple's problem. So the elder Quitangon and two of his younger
sonswent to Zapote one evening. Thelights were on in Cabading house, but nobody responded to their
knocking. Then all the lights were turned off. As they stoodwondering what to do, a servant girlcame and told
them that the master was out. (Lydia would later tell them that they had not been admitted because herfather
had not yet decided what shewas to say to them.)
The last act of this curious drama began Sunday last week when Leonardo was astounded to receive anearlymorning phone call from his wife. She saidshe could no longer bear to be parted from him and bade him pick
her up at a certain church, where she was with herfoster brother. Leonardo rushed to the church, picked up two,
dropped the boyoff at a street near Zapote, then spedwith Lydia to Maragondon, Cavite where theQuitangons
have a house. He stopped ata gasoline station to call up his brothers in Sta. Mesa, to tell them what he had
done and to warn them that Cabadingwould surely show up there. "Get Mother out of the house," he toldhis
brothers.
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At about ten in the morning, a taxi stopped before the Quitangon house in Sta. Mesa and Mrs. Cabading got
out andbegan screaming at the gate: "Where'smy daughter? Where's my daughter?" Gene and Nonilo
Quitangin went out tothe gate and invited her to come in. "No! No! All I want is mydaughter!" shescreamed.
Cabading, who was inside the waiting taxi, then got out and demanded that the Quitangons produce Lydia.
Vexed,Nonilo Quitangon cried: "Abah, what have we do with where your daughteris? Anyway, she's with her
husband." Atthat, Cabading ran to the taxi, snatched a submachinegun from a box, and trained it on Gene
Quitangon. (Nonilohad run into the house to get a gun.)
"Produce my daughter at once or I'll shoot you all down!"shouted Cabading.
Gene, thegun's muzzle practically in his face, sought to pacify the older man: "Why can't we talk this over
quietly,like decent people, inside the house? Look,we're creating a scandal in the neighborhood.."
Cabading lowered his gun. "I give you till midnight tonight toproduce my daughter," hegrowled. "If you don't,
you better ask the PC to guard this house!"
Then he and his wife drove off in the taxi, just a moment before the mobile police patrol the neighbors had
calledarrived. The police advised Gene to file a complaint with the fiscal's office.Instead, Gene decided to go
to the house on Zapote Street,hoping that "diplomacy" would work.
Tohis surprise, he was admitted at once by a smiling and very genial Cabading. "You are a brave man," hetold
Gene, "and a lucky one", And he ordered a coke brought for the visitor. Gene said that hewas going to
Cavitebut could not promise to "produce". Lydia bymidnight: it was up to the couple to decide whether they
would come back.
It wasabout eight in the evening when Gene arrived in Maragondon. As his car drove into the yard of this
family's oldhouse, Lydiaand Leonardo
appearedat a window and frantically asked what had happened. "Nothing," said Gene, and their faces lit up.
"We'rehaving our honeymoon at last," Lydiatold Gene as he enteredthe house. And the old air of dread, of
mystery, did seem to have lifted from her face. But it was thereagain when, after supper, he told them what had
happened in Sta. Mesa.
"I can't goback," she moaned. "He'll kill me! He'll kill me!"
"Hehas cooled down now," said Gene. "He seems to be a reasonable man after all."
"Oh, you don'tknow him!" cried Lydia."I've known him longer, and I've never,never been happy!"
Andthe brothers at last had glimpses of the girlhood she had been so reticent about. She told them of
Cabading'sbaffling changes of temper, especiallytoward her; how smiles and found words and caresses could
abruptly turn into beatings when his mood darkened.
Leonardosaid that his father-in-law was an artista, "Remember how he used to fan me when I supped there
while I was courting Lydia?"
(At about that time, in Sta. Mesa, Nonilo Quitanongon, on guard at the gate of his family's house, saw
Cabading drive past three times in a taxi.)
"I can't force you to go back," said Gene. "You'll haveto decide that yourselves.But what, actually, are you
planning to do? You can't stay forever here in Maragondon. What would you live on?"
The two said they would talk it over for a while in their room. Gene waited at the supper table and when a
longtime had passed and they had not come back he went to the room. Finding the door ajar, he looked in.
Lydia and Leonardo were on their knees on the floor,saying the rosary, Gene returned to the supper table. After
another long wait,the couple came out of the room.
Said Lydia:"We have prayed together and we have decided to die together.” We'll go back with you, in the
morning."
Theywe’re back in Manilaearly the next morning. Lydiaand Leonardo went straight tothe house in Sta. Mesa,
where all their relatives and friends warned them not to go back to the house on Zapote Street, asthey had
decided to do.Confused anew, they went to the Manila policeheadquarters to ask for advice,but the advice
given seemed drastic to them: summon Cabading and have it outwith him in front of his superior officer.
Leonardo's father then offered to go to Zapote with Gene and Nonilo,to try to reason with Cabading.
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They found him in good humor, full of smiles and hearty greetings. He reproached his balae for not
visitinghim before. "I did come once," drily remarked the elder Quitangon, "but no one would open the gate."
Cabading had his wife called. She came into the room and satdown. "Was I in the house that night
our balae came?" her husband asked her. "No, youwere out," she replied. Havingspoken her piece, she got up
and left the room. (On their various visits to the house on Zapote Street, the Quitangons noticedthat Mrs.
Cabading appearedonly when summoned and vanished as soon as she had done whatever was expectedof her).
Cabading then announced that he no longer objected to Lydia's moving out of the house to live with her
husband inan apartment of their own. Overjoyed,the Quitangons urged Cabading to go with them in Sta. Mesa,
so that the newlyweds could be reconciled with Lydia'sparents. Cabading readily agreed.
When theyarrived in Sta. Mesa, Lydia and Leonardo were sitting on a sofa in the sala.
"Whyhave you done this?" her father chided her gently. "If you wanted to move out, did you have to run
away?" ToLeonardo, he said: "And you - are angrywith me?" house by themselves. Gene Quitangon felt so felt
elated he proposed a celebration: "I'll throw ablow-out! Everybody is invited! This is on me!" So they all went
to Max's in Quezon City and had a very merry fried-chicken party. "Why, this is a familyreunion!" laughed
Cabading. "This should be on me!" But Gene would not let him pay thebill.
Earlythe next morning, Cabading called up the Sta. Mesa house to pay that his wife had fallen ill. Would Lydia
pleasevisit her? Leonardo and Lydiawent to Zapote, found nothing the matter withher mother, and returned to
Sta. Mesa. After lunch, Leonardo left for his classes. Then Cabading called upagain. Lydia's mother refused to
eat and kept asking forher daughter. Would Lydiaplease drop in again at the house on Zapote?Gene and Nonilo
Quitangon said theymight as well accompany Lydiathere and start moving out her things.
When they arrived at the Zapote house, theQuitangon brothers were amused by what they saw.
Mrs.Cabading, her eyes closed, lay on the parlor sofa, a large towel spread outbeneath her. "She has been lying
there all day," said Cabading, "tossing restlessly, askingfor you, Lydia."Gene noted that the towel wasneatly
spread out and didn't look crumpled at all, and that Mrs. Cabading was obviously just pretending to be asleep.
Hesmiled at the childishness of the stratagem, but Lydiawas past being amused. She wont straight to her room,
were they heard her pulling out drawers.While the Quitangons and Cabading were conversing, the supposedly
sick mother slipped out of the sofa andwent upstairs to Lydia's room.
Cabading told the Quitangons that he wanted Lydia and Leonardo to stay there; at the house in Zapote. "I
thoughtall that was settled last night," Gene groaned.
"I built this house for Lydia," persisted Cabading,"and this house is hers. Ifshe and her husband want to be
alone, I and my wife will move out of here, turn this house over to them." Genewearily explained that
Lydiaand Leonardo preferred theapartment they had already leased.
Suddenlythe men heard the clatter of a drawer falling upstairs. Gene surmised that ithad fallen in a struggle
between mother and daughter. "Excuse me," said Cabading, rising. As he wentupstairs, he said to the
Quitangons, over his shoulder, “Don't misunderstand me. I'm notgoing to 'coach' Lydia".He went into Lydia's
room and closed the doorbehind him.
Aftera long while, Lydiaand her father came out of the room together and came down to the sala together.
Lydia wasclasping a large crucifix. There was no expression on her face when she told the Quitangon boys to
gohome. "But I thought we were going to startmoving your things out this afternoon,," said Gene. She glanced
at the crucifix and said it wasone of the first things she wantedtaken to her new home. "Just tell Narding to
fetch me," she said.
Back in Sta. Mesa, Gene and Nonilo had the painful task of telling Leonardo, when he phoned, that Lydia was
backin the house on Zapote. "Why did you leave her there?" cried Leonardo. "He'll beat her up!I'm going to
get her."Gene told him not you go alone, to pass by the Sta. Mesa house first and pick up Nonilo. Gene could
not go along; hehad to catch a bus for Subic, where he works.When Leonardo arrived, Gene told him: "Don't
force Lydia to gowithyou. If she doesn't want to,leave at once. Do not, for any reason, be persuaded to stay
there too."
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When his brother had left for Zapote, Gene realized that he was not sure he was going to Subic.He left too
worried. He knew he couldn't rest easy until he had seen Lydia and Leonardo settled in theirnew home. The
minutes quickly tickedpast as he debated with himself whether he should stay or catch that bus. Then, at about
a quarter to seven, the phonerang. It was Nonilo, in anguish.
"Somethingterrible has happened in Lydia'sroom! I heard four shots," he cried.
"Who are upthere?"
"Lydia andNarding and the Cabadings."
"I'llbe right over.
Genesent a younger brother to inform the family lawyer and to alert the Makati police. Then he drove like mad
to Zapote. It was almost dark whenhe got there. The house stood perfectlystill, not a light on inside. He
watched it from a distance but could see no movement, Then a taxidrove up and out jumped Nonilo. Hehad
telephoned from a gasoline station. He related what had happened.
He said that when he and Leonardo arrived at the Zapote house, Cabading motioned Leonardo upstairs: "Lydia
is in herroom." Leonardo went up;Cabading gave Nonilo a cup of coffee and chatted amiably with him. Nonilo
saw Mrs. Cabading go up to Lydia's roomwith a glass of milk. A while later, they heard a woman scream,
followed by sobbing. "There seems to betrouble up there," saidCabading, and he went upstairs. Nonilo saw
him enter Lydia's room, leaving the dooropen. A few moments later, the door was closed. Then Nonilo heard
three shots. He stood petrified, butwhen he heard a fourth shot he dashedout of the house, ran to a gasoline
station and called up Gene.
Nonilopointed to the closed front gate; he was sure he had left it open when he ran out. The brothers suspected
thatCabading was lurking somewhere in the darkness, with his gun.
Beforethem loomed the dark house, now so sinister and evil in their eyes. The upper story that jutted
forward,forming the house's chief facade, bore a curious sign: Dra. Lydia C. Cabading, Lady
Physician. (Apparently,Lydiacontinued- or was made- to use her maidenname.) Above the sign was the
garlandof colored lights that have been put up for Christmas and had not yet been removed. It was an ice-cold
night, thedark of the moon, but the two brothersshivered not from the wind blowing down the lonely murky
street but from pure horror of the house that had sofatally thrust itself into their lives.
But the wind remembered when the sighs it heard here were only the sighing of the ripe grain, when the cries
itheard were only the crying of birds nesting in the reeds, for all these new suburbs in Makati used to
begrassland, riceland,marshland, or pastoral solitudes where few cared to go, until the big city spilled hither,
replacing the uprootedreeds with split-levels, pushing noisy little streets into the heart of the solitude, and
collecting here fromall over the country the uprooted souls that now moan or giggle where once thecarabao
wallowed and the frogs croaked day and night.In very new suburbs, one feels humansorrow to be a grass
intrusion on the labors of nature. Even barely two years ago, the talahib still roseman-high on the plot of
ground on Zapote Street where now stands the relic of an ambiguous love.
As the Quitangon brothers shivered in the darkness, a police van arrivedand unloaded quite a large contingent
ofpolicemen. The Quitangons warned them that Cabading had a submachinegun. The policemen crawled
toward the front gate and almost jumped when a younggirl came running across the yard, shaking with terror
and shrieking gibberish.She was one of the maids. She and her companion and the foster son had fled from the
house when they heardthe shooting and had been hiding in the yard. Itwas they who had closed the front gate.
Apoliceman volunteered to enter the house through the back door; Gene said he would try the front one. He
peered inat a window and could detect no one in the sala. He slipped a hand inside, opened the front door
andentered, just as thepoliceman came in from the kitchen. As they crept up the stairs they heard a moaning in
Lydia's room. They tried the doorbut it was blocked from inside."Push it, push it," wailed a woman's voice.
The policeman pushed the door hard and what was blocking it gave. Hegroped for the switch and turned light.
As they entered, he and Gene shuddered at what they saw.
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The entire room was spattered with blood. On the floor, blocking the door, lay Mrs. Cabading. She had been
shot in the chest and stomach but was still alive. The policeman tried to get a statement from her but all she
could say was: "My hand, my hand- it hurts!"She was lying across the legs of her daughter, who lay on top of
her husband's body. Lydia was still clutching an armful of clothes;Leonardo was holding a clothes hanger. He
had been shot in the breast; she, in the heart. They had died instantly, together.
Sprawled face up on his daughter's bed, his mouth agape and his eyes bulging open as though still staring in
horror and the bright blood splashed on his face lay Pablo Cabading.
"Oh, I cursed him!" cries Eugenio Quitangon with passion."Oh, I cursed him as he lay there dead, God forgive
me! Yes, I cursed that dead man there on that bed, for I had wanted to find him alive!"
From the position of the bodies and from Mrs. Cabading's statements later at the hospital, it appears that
Cabading shot Lydia while she was shielding her husband, and Mrs. Cabading when she tried to shield Lydia.
Then he turned the gun on himself, and it's an indication of the man's uncommon strength and power that, after
the first shot, through the right side of the head, which must have been mortal enough, he seems to have been
able, as his hands dropped to his breast, to fire at himself a second time. The violent spasm of agony must have
sent the gun - a .45 caliber pistol-flying from his hand. It was found at the foot of the bed, near Mrs.
Cabading's feet.
The drama of the jealous father had ended at about half-past six in the evening, Tuesday last week.
The next day, hurrying commuters slowed down and a whispering crowd gathered before 1074 Zapote Street,
to watch the police and the reporters going through the pretty little house that Pablo Cabading built for his
Lydia.
Answer the following questions:
1. Characterize Pablo Cabading as a husband and father.
2. Is there a domestic violence in the household of Pablo Cabading? Why do you think so?
3. Discuss the prevalence of domestic violence as a social problem.
TEST YOURSELF
Activity 1
A. Match the writings in Column A with its author in Column B.
A
B
1. Florante at Laura
a. Quijano de Manila
2. The House on Zapote Street
b. Edith Tiempo
3. Bonsai
c. John Iremil Teodoro
4. The Chieftest Mourner
d. Emma Umali Berthelsen
5. The Money Makers
e. Kerima Polotan Tuvera
6. Ang Baboy
f. Paz Marquez-Benitez
7. A House Full of Daughters
g. Landa Jocano
8. The Great Flood
h. Isidro Carino
9. Dead Stars
i. Francisco Baltazar
10. Money Is Not Everything
j. Aida Rivera Ford
B. Match the authors with the regions where they come from. You could choose the same
region more than once.
1. Manuel Arguilla
a. Region 1
2. Amador Daquio
b. Region V11
3. Francisco Baltazar
c. Region 111
4. N.V.M. Gonzales
d. Region 1V
5. Leoncio Deriada
e. Region 1X
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6. Demy Sonza
f. Region X1
7. Angela Manalang Gloria
g. ARMM
8. Aida Rivera Ford
h. Region V1
9. Kerima Polotan Tuvera
i. Region V
10. Jose P. Rizal
j. CAR
Activity 2
Answer the following questions correctly:
a. Biag ni Lam-ang
1. Why did Lam-ang decide to follow his father?
2. How did Lam-ang catch the attention of Ines Kannoyan?
3. What is your opinion of the custom of the Ilocanos wherein the groom has to drive
into the river after his wedding? Explain your opinion.
b. Wedding Dance
1. What are the expectations for men in Awiyao’s culture? What about for women?
2. What beliefs of the people in the story reflects their culture and practices? Compare
and contrast this with other ethnic group in the Philippines.
3. Why is the story entitled “Wedding Dance”?
MY TAKE AWAY
Based on the stories represented from Region 1 to Region 1V, what are the common
characteristics, tradition and practices of the Filipinos? Enumerate and discuss your answers.
SELF-AUDIT
What lessons in life have you learned from the stories that may still be useful in your life
today?
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