The Origin of This World (Maranao) by Damiana L. Eugenio

1          According to Maranaw folklore, this world was created by a great Being. It is not known, however, who exactly is this great Being. Or how many days it took him to create this world.

2          This world is divided into seven layers. The earth has also seven layers. Each layer is inhabited by a different kind of being. The uppermost layer, for example, is the place we are inhabiting. The second layer is being inhabited by dwarfs. These dwarfs are short, plump, and long-haired. They are locally known as Karibanga. The Karibanga are said to possess magical powers. They are usually invisible to the human eye. The third layer of the earth which is found under the sea or lake is inhabited by nymphs. These nymphs also possess certain magical powers. It is stated in the story of Rajah Indarapatra that he met and fell in love with the princessnymph with whom he had a child.

3          The sky also consists of seven layers. Each layer has a door which is guarded day and night by huge mythical birds called garoda. The seventh layer of the sky is the seat of heaven which is also divided into seven layers. Every layer in the sky is inhabited by angels. Maranaws believe that angels do not need food. They all possess wings with which they fly.

4          Heaven which is found on the seventh layer of the sky is where good people‘s spirits go after death. Saints are assigned to the seventh layer while persons who ―barely made it‖ are confined to the lower most layer which is found at the bottom of heaven.

5          It is in heaven where we find the tree-of-life. On each leaf of the tree-of-life is written the name of every person living on earth. As soon as a leaf ripens or dries and falls, the person whose name it carries also dies.

6          The soul of every person is found in tightly covered jars kept in one section of heaven. This particular section of heaven is closely guarded by a monster with a thousand eyes, named Walo. Walo, in addition to his thousand eyes, has also eight hairy heads. The epic Darangan speaks of Madale, Bantugan‘s brother and, Mabaning, Husband of Lawanen, entering this section and retrieving the soul of Bantugan.

The Anatomy of a Filipino by Prof. Felix Bautista

All:  I like to think that I am a Filipino, that I am as Good, a Filipino as anyone.

Girls: My heart thrills, when, I Hear, the National anthem, being played.

Boys:  And my Blood Rises, when, I see our flag, Fluttering in the breeze.

All:  And Yet, I find myself asking, How Filipino Am I, Really?

Boys:  My First Name is American.

Girls:  My Last Name Is Chinese.

Boys:  When I am with Girlfriends or more correctly, when, I am with my Friends, who happen to be girls- I talk to them in English.

Girls:  If they are thirsty, I buy them, a Bottle of American coke.

Boys:  If they are hungry, I treat them, to an Italian Pizza pie.

All:  And when I have the money, I give them a real Chinese Lauriat.

Boy (solo):  Considering all these, considering my taste, for many things foreign, what right do I have, to call myself, a Filipino?

Girls (solo):  Should I not call myself, a culture orphan? The illegitimate child of many races?

All:  Rightly or wrongly, whether we like it or not, we are the end products of our history. Fortunately or unfortunately, our history is a co-mingling, of polyglot influences.

Boys:  Malayan and Chinese.

Girls:  Spanish and British.

Boys:  American and Japanese.

All:  This is historic fact we cannot ignore, a cultural reality we cannot escape, for to believe otherwise is to indulge in fantasy.

Boy (solo):  I must confess, I am an extremely confused, and Bewildered young man. Wherever I am, whatever I may be doing, I am Bombarded, on all sides, by people who want, me to search for my national identity.

All:  Tell me the Language I speak should be replaced by Filipino. They urge me to do away with things foreign to act and think, and buy Filipino.

Girl (solo):  Even in art, I am getting bothered and Bewildered.

All:  The Writer should use Filipino, as his medium, the nationalists cry.

Boys:  The Painter should use his genius in portraying themes purely Filipino, they demand.

Girls:  The Composer should exploit endless Possibilities of the haunting kundiman, they insist.

All:  All these sound wonderful. But Rizal used Spanish, when he wrote, Noli and Fili.

Boys:  Was he less of a nationalist, because of it? Must the artist, to be truly Filipino, paint with the juice of the duhat?

Girls:  And must he draw picture of topless Muslim women or Igorot warriors in G-String

All:  And if the composer deserts the kundiman, and he writes song faithful to the spirit of the Youths of today, does he become unFilipino? We are what we are today, because of our history.

Boys:  In our veins pulses blood with traces of Chinese and Spanish and American, but It does not stop being Filipino, because of these.

 Girls:  Our culture is tinged with foreign influences, but it has become rich thereby.

All:  This mingling, in fact, could speed us on the road, to national greatness.  Look at America, it is a great country, and yet it is the melting pot of Italian, and German, British, and French, or Irish and Swedish.

Boy (solo):  Filipinism, after all, is in the heart.

All:  If that heart beats faster, because the Philippines is making progress, if it fills with compassion because its people are suffering, then it belongs to a true Filipino; and it throbs with pride in our past, if it pulses with awareness of the present, if it beats  with a faith in the future, then we could ask for nothing more; all other things are unimportant.

Boys:  I have an American First Name.

Girls:  And I have, a Chinese Last Name.

All:  And I am proud, very, very proud, - because underneath these names beats a Filipino heart.

Why Sinigang? By Doreen G. Fernandez

Rather than the overworked adobo (so identified as the Philippine stew in foreign cookbooks), sinigang seems to me the dish most representative of Filipino taste. We like the lightly boiled, the slightly soured, the dish that includes fish (or shrimp or meat) vegetables and broth. It is adaptable to all tastes ( if you don’t like shrimp, then bangus, or pork), to all classes and budgets, (even ayungin, in humble little piles, find their way into the pot), to seasons and availability (walang talong, mahal ang gabi? kangkong na lang!).

          But why? Why does sinigang find its way to bare dulang, to formica-topped restaurant booth, to gleaming ilustrado table? Why does one like anything at all? How is a people’s taste shaped?

          But still, why soured? Aside from the fact that sour broths are cooling in hot weather, could it be perhaps because the dish is meant to be eaten against the mild background of rice? Easy to plant and harvest, and allowing more than one crop a year, rice is ubiquitous on the landscape. One can picture our ancestors settling down beside their rivers and finally tuning to the cultivation of fields, with rice as one of the first steady crops.

RICE

          Rice to us is more than basic cereal, for as constant background, steady accompaniment; it is also the shaper of other food, and of tastes. We not only sour, but also salt (daing, tuyo, bagoong) because the blandness of rice suggests the desirability of sharp contrast. Rice can be ground into flour and thus the proliferation of puto; the mildly sweet Putong Polo, the banana leaf-encased Manapla variety; puto filled with meat or flavored with ube; puto in cakes or wedges, white or brown eaten with dinuguan or salabat.   

THE GREENERY

          The landscape also offers the vines, shrubs, fields, forest and tress from which comes the galaxy of gulay with which we are best all year round. “Back home,” an American friend commented.” All we use from day to day are peas, carrots, potatoes, cabbage, and very few others.”

          The dietarily uninhibited Filipino, on the other hand, recognizes the succulence of roots (gabi, ube, kamote); the delicacy and flavor of leaves (pechay, dahong bawang, kintsay, pako, malunggay) and tendrils (talbos ng ampalaya, kalabasa, sayote); the bounty of fruits (not only upo and kalabasa, talong and ampalaya, but also desserts like langka and banana, which double as vegetables; and the excitement of flowers like katuray and kalabasa

About Doreen Fernandez

What is an Educated Filipino? by Francisco Benitez (An Excerpt)

          What is an educated Filipino and what qualities should distinguish him today? The conception of education and of what an educated man is varied in response to fundamental changes in the details and aims of society. In our country and during this transition stage in our national life, what are the qualities which an educated man should possess?

          Great changes have taken place in the nature of our social life during the last forty years. The contact with Americans and their civilization has modified many of our own social customs, traditions, and practices, some for the worse and many for the better. The means of communication have improved and therefore better understanding exists among the different sections of our country. Religious freedom has developed religious tolerance in our people. The growth of public schools and the establishment of democratic institutions have developed our national consciousness both in strength and in solidarity. With this growth in national consciousness and national spirit among our people, we witness the corresponding rise of a new conception of education – the training of the individual for the duties and privileges of citizenship, not only for his own happiness and efficiency but also for national service and welfare. In the old days, education was a matter of private concern; now it is a public function, and the state not only has the duty but it has the right as well to educate every member of the community – the old as well as the young, women as well as men – not only for the good of the individual but also for the self-preservation and protection of the State itself. Our modern public school system has been established as a safeguard against the shortcomings and dangers of a democratic government and democratic institutions.

          In the light of social changes, we come again to the question: What qualities should distinguish the educated Filipino of today? I venture to suggest that the educated Filipino should first be distinguished by the power to do. The Oriental excels in reflective thinking; he is a philosopher. The Occidental is the doer; he manages things, men and affairs. The Filipino of today needs more of his power to translate reflection into action. I believe that we are coming more and more to the conviction that no Filipino has the right to be considered educated unless he is prepared and ready to take an active and useful part in the work, life, and progress of our country as well as in the progress of the world.

About Francisco Benitez

Oli Impan by Alberto S. Florentino

     After the liberation of Manila, hundreds of indigent families settled in the squalid, cramped space of the bombed ruins of an old government building of Juan Luna. For more than a decade these “squatters” tenaciously refused to move out in spite of court rulings. The “casbah”, as the compound was popularly known, became a breeding place for vice and corruption. The city government was able to evict the “squatters” only on December 20, 1958 – five days before Christmas.

(On the middle of the stage, extending from side to side, is a stone wall one and a half feet high. At left may be seen a portion of a tall edifice. At right, is a portion of the “casbah”. Beyond the stone wall, an estero (unseen) – and the sky. A five-year-old girl sits on the stone wall, her thin legs dangling in the air. Offstage there is a continuous commotion of evacuation. A woman’s voice rises above the commotion as she reprimands a child for getting in her way. A six-year-old boy appears on stage walking backwards – away from his mother, nagging offstage. The mother quiets down. The boy turns around and plays with his toy: an empty milk can pulled along the ground with a piece of string.)

Girl: Is there a fire?

Boy: (Stops playing and faces her) Huh?

Girl: I said, is there a fire?

Boy: There is no fire. (Continues to play)

Girl: (Looks toward the street. After a pause.) I think there is no fire.

Boy: (Stops playing_ I told you there’s none.

Girl: There is.

Boy: How do you know? Do you see any smoke? Do you hear any fireman? (resumes his play. Runs around imitating a fire engine) EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I like it when there is a big fire!

Girl: (Worried) If there is no fire, why are they putting these things out? (pints to a pile of household belongings nearby)

Boy: Because we are being thrown out.

Girl: Who told you?

Boy: My mother.

Girl: Who is throwing us out?

Boy: (Sits on the other end of the stone wall) The government.

Girl: What is a government?

Boy: I don’t know.

Girl: You didn’t ask your mother?

Boy: I forgot to ask her.

Girl: Why should the government throw us out?

Boy: (Points to the compound) Because it owns this.

Girl: (Enraged) But this is ours!

Boy: No, it is not ours.

Girl: (Insistent) It is ours! It is!

Boy: It is not!

Girl: (A tiny scream) It is! It is!

Boy: (Loud) How do you know it is ours?

Girl: We’ve always been here, haven’t we?

Boy: Yes, but that doesn’t mean it is ours.

Girl: (After a pause) If they throw us out, we’ll have nowhere to go. How about you? You have any place to go?

Boy: None. But we will have one. (Proudly) My mother has a job.

Girl: She has?

Boy: Yes!

Girl: What does she do?

Boy: She reads hands.

Girl: She reads – hands? (Looking at her hands) Why does she read hands?

Boy: So she can tell what will happen tomorrow.

Girl: She can do that? By reading hands?

Boy: Yes, She can!

Girl: (Showing him her hands) Can she read my hands? I want to know where we will stay tomorrow.

Boy: She can’t read your hands.

Girl: (Looks at them) Why not?

Boy: They are too small… and dirty.

Girl: (She quickly withdraws them and quietly wipes them on her dress)

Boy: Besides… she reads only men’s hands.

Girl: Only men’s hands? Why?

Boy: Because they are big.. and easy to read.

Girl: How does she read hands? Like she reads the comics?

Boy: I don’t know.

Girl: You don’t know? Don’t you watch her?

Boy: My mother won’t let me. She makes me go out and play. And she closes the door.

Girl: She closes the door! How can she read in the dark?

Boy: I don’t know. (Proudly) But she can!

Girl: Don’t you ever peep?

Boy: No, I don’t.

Girl: Why not?

Boy: She’ll beat me up.

(Commotion offstage.)

Girl: What’s that? What’s happening there?

Boy: (Tries to see) I don’t know. I can’t see. (Pulls her) Come out, let’s take a look!

Girl: (Resisting) I can’t.

Boy: Why not?

Girl: My father told me to stay here. He said not to go anywhere.

Boy: (Turning) Then I will go and take a look.

Girl: (Frightened) No, don’t. Stay here. Don’t leave me.

Boy: Why?

Girl: I’m afraid.

Boy: Afraid of what?

Girl: I don’t know.

Boy: But how can we find out what’s happening?

Girl: Let’s not find out anymore.

Boy: (Restless) But I want to see. (Scampers up the stone wall) I can see from here!

Girl: What do you see?

Boy: (Incredulous) They are destroying our homes. (Sound of wrecking crew at work)

Girl: (frightened) Who are destroying them?

Boy: The men with hammers!

Girl: Nobody is stopping them?

Boy: Nobody.

Girl: But why? Are there no policemen?

Boy: There are. There are many policemen.

Girl: What are they doing? What are the policemen doing?

Boy: Nothing.

Girl: Nothing? They are not stopping the men?

Boy: No.

Girl: Why not?

Boy: I don’t know.

(Commotion. Shouts. Curses)

Girl: (Alarmed) What’s happening now?

Boy: (excited throughout) A man is trying to stop the men with hammers! Now the policemen are trying to stop him. They’re running after him. But the man fights like a mad dog! (A man shouts, cursing)

Girl: (Suddenly, with terror in her voice). That’s my father! (In her fright she covers her eyes with hands)

Boy: Your father?

Girl: Yes, he’s my father! What are they doing to him? Are they hurting him?

Boy: No, they are only trying to catch him… Now they’ve caught him! They are tying his hands!

Girl: What will they do to him?

Boy: I don’t know. Now they are putting him in a car. A police car.

Girl: (Whimpers) Father… Father…

Boy: They are taking him away! (A car with siren drivers away)

Girl: (Screams) FATHER! FATHER!

Boy: He can’t hear you now.

Girl: (Starts to cry)

Boy: (Walks to and sits beside her) Why are you crying? Don’t cry please…

Girl: They are going to hurt my father, aren’t they?

Boy: No, they won’t hurt him.

Girl: (Removes her hands from her eyes) How do you know?

Boy: I just know it. (Suddenly) Come, let’s sing a song.

Girl: I don’t know how to sing.

Boy: I’ teach you.

Girl: How?

Boy: I’ll sing… and you listen. (She nods and wipes her eyes dry)

Boy: (Sings) Saylenay…

Olinay…

Oliskam…

Olisbray…

Ranyonberginmaderenchayle…

Oli impansotenderenmayle…

Slipinebenlipis…

Slipinebenlipis…

Girl: (Smiling) That’s a pretty song. Who taught you that song?

Boy: (Proudly) My mother!

Girl: What does it mean? I can’t understand it.

Boy: It’s about God.

Girl: What’s a “God”?

Boy: I don’t know. I haven’t asked my mother. But she told me God was born in a stable.

Girl: What’s a stable?

Boy: A place for horses.

Girl: (Incredulous) He was born there? In a place for horses? Why?

Boy: My mother said he had nowhere to stay.

Girl: Was he poor?

Boy: I don’t know.

Girl: (Suddenly) I like the song. Will you sing it again?

Boy: No, let’s sing it together.

Girl: I told you, I don’t know how.

Boy: I’ll teach you. I’ll sing it a little… and you sing after me. (She smiles and nods)

Boy: (Sings) Saylenay…

Girl: Saylenay…

Boy: Olinay…

Girl: Olinay…

Boy: Oliskam…

Girl: Oliskam…

Boy: Olisbray…

Girl: Olisbray…

Boy: Ranyonberginmaderenchayle…

Girl: Ranyon…(She giggles) I can’t say that!

Boy: Let’s skip it. (Sings) Oli impan… n, skip that, too. (Sings)

Slipinebenlipis…

Girl: Slipinebenlipis…

Boy: Slipinebenlipis…

Girl: Slipinebenlipis…