The Battle of the Enchanters. [23]
There was once a poor boy who was very ambitious to learn, and with
the consent of his parents he bound himself to an enchanter who was
a very wise man. The boy remained with him for a very long time,
until at last his master sent him home, saying that he could teach
him nothing more. The boy went home, but there he found nothing in
the way of adventure, so he proposed to his father that he should
become a horse, which his father could sell for twenty pesos to his
late teacher. He cautioned his father that, as soon as he received
the money for the horse, he should drop the halter as if by accident.
The young man then became a horse, and his father took him to the
enchanter, who gave him twenty pesos. As soon as the money was in the
father's hand, he dropped the halter, and the horse at once became
a bird which flew away. The enchanter metamorphosed himself into a
hawk and followed. The bird was so hard pressed by the hawk that it
dived into the sea and became a fish. The hawk followed and became a
shark. The fish, being in danger from the shark, leaped out on to the
dry ground and took the shape of a crab, which hid in a spring where
a princess was bathing. The shark followed in the shape of a cat,
which began to search under the stones for the crab, but the crab
escaped by changing itself into a ring on the finger of the princess.
Now it chanced that the father of the princess was very sick, and
the enchanter went to the palace and offered to cure him for the
ring on the finger of the princess. To this the king agreed, but the
ring begged the princess not to give him directly to the enchanter,
but to let him fall on the floor. The princess did this, and as the
ring touched the floor it broke into a shower of rice. The enchanter
immediately took the form of a cock and industriously pecked at the
grains on the floor. But as he pecked, one of the grains changed to
a cat which jumped on him and killed him.
The young man then resumed his own form, having proven himself a
greater man than his master.
Fletcher Gardner.
Bloomington, Ind.
PART IV
A Filipino (Tagalog) Version of Aladdin.
Once on a time a poor boy and his mother went far from their home
city to seek their fortune. They were very poor, for the husband
and father had died, leaving them little, and that little was soon
spent. The boy went into the market-place to seek for work, and a
travelling merchant, seeing his distress, spoke to him and asked
many questions. When he had inquired the name of the boy's father,
he embraced him with many kind words, and told him that he was the
father's long-lost brother, and that as he had no children of his
own the boy should be his heir and for the present live with him
as his son. He sent the boy to call his mother, and when she came
he kissed her with many words of endearment, and would have it that
she was his sister-in-law, though she told him that her husband had
no brother. He treated her well and made her many presents, so that
she was forced to believe he really was her brother-in-law.
The merchant then invited the boy to go for a visit with him, promising
that the mother should soon follow. Mother and son consented, and
the merchant set off with his nephew in the afternoon. They went
far and came to a mountain which they crossed, and then to a second,
which seemed very high to the poor boy so that he begged to rest. The
man would not allow this, and when the boy cried, beat him till he
agreed to do whatever he was told. They crossed this mountain also,
and came to a third, and on the very top they stopped. The merchant
drew a ring from his own finger and put it on that of the boy. Then
he drew a circle around the boy and told him not to be frightened at
what would happen, but to stretch out his arms three times, and that
the third time the ground would open, and that then he must descend
and get a tabo [24] that he would find, and that with that in their
hands they could quickly return. The boy, from fear of the man, did
as he was told, and when the ground opened, went down into the cave
and got the tabo. As he reached up his hand to be pulled from the
cave, the man took the ring from his finger, and told him to hand
up the vessel, but the boy, now much frightened, refused unless he
were first helped out himself. That the man would not do, and after
much talk drew another circle around the cave-mouth, bade it close,
and left the boy a prisoner in most evil plight.
Alone and helpless for three days in the underground darkness,
the boy was a prey to awful fear, but at the end of the third day,
having by accident rubbed slightly the tabo with his hand, at once
a great sinio [25] or multo [26] stood before him, saying that he
was the slave of the tabo, and that all things earthly were within
his power. At once mindful of his mother, he told the multo to take
him home, and in the winking of an eye, still carrying the tabo in
his hand, he stood before his mother. He found her very hungry and
sorrowful, and recounted all that had happened and again rubbed the
tabo lightly. The multo reappeared and the good woman hid her face
for terror at the sight, but the lad bade the multo bring him a dinner
for them both on a service of silver with everything to match.
After they had dined well for several days on the remnants of the
food, the boy went to the market and sold the spoons that the multo
had brought for two gold pieces, and on that they lived a long time:
and as from time to time their money became exhausted, he sold more,
till at last there was nothing left. Then, as he had become a young
man, he required the multo to bring him a great chest of money,
and soon became known as a very rich and generous person.
Now there was in that city a woman who had a very handsome daughter
whom she wished to marry to the young man, and by way of opening the
matter, she and her daughter went one day to try to buy some of the
rich table ware which he had, or at least so they pretended. The young
man was not of a mind for that kind of alliance, and so told the old
woman to rub the magic vessel. She did so and the multo at once whisked
her inside. The daughter also went in to inquire for her mother, and
as she admiringly touched the tabo the multo made her prisoner, and the
two became the slaves of the young man and were never heard of again.
A variant of this tale has been printed in Tagalog. It has probably
reached the Phillppines through the medium of Spanish.
Fletcher Gardner.
Bloomington, Ind.
PART V
Some Games of Filipino Children.
Os-Os.
This is a game used by older persons to amuse small children, exactly
as our game of the "Five Little Pigs."
The child is grasped by the wrist with the left hand of the elder,
who repeats "Ang áma, ang ína, ang káka, ang áli, ang nóno, tóloy,
os-os sa kíli-kíli mo." That is, "The father (thumb), the mother
(forefinger), the elder brother (middle finger), the elder sister
(ring finger), the grandparent (little finger) straight up to your
armpit." The armpit is then tickled. Os-os is a verb meaning "to go
up stream." This is a common game among the Tagalogs of Mindoro Island.
Marbles.
The game of marbles is played with conical shells, propelled by laying
on the ground and striking with the ulnar side of the index finger,
which is snapped from the thumb against it. The goal is a hole in the
ground, in which the stakes, usually consisting of other shells of
the same kind, are deposited. The "taw" is a straight line some six
or eight feet away. If a shell is struck, the owner of the striking
shell has another shot, and the owner of the shell struck shoots from
where he lies. He seems to incur no penalty.
This is a common game on Mindoro, and is played usually at the
beginning of the dry season.
Tágo-Tágo.
Translated, the name means, "Play at hiding." It is played exactly
as "I spy" and the counting out beforehand is similar. There is a
considerable number of counting-out rhymes to be heard, only one of
which I am able to give entire. It is in Filipino Spanish. "Pim, pim,
serapim, agua, ronda, San Miguel, arcángel."
In English, "Phim, phim, seraphim, water, the night patrol,
St. Michael, the archangel."
Hop-Scotch.
This game is played by marking out in the dust or sand a parallelogram,
which is subdivided into a varying number of compartments. A small
stone is put into the first subdivision, and the player, standing
on one foot, kicks it into each in turn. If it goes out of bounds he
is allowed to kick it back, so long as the other foot does not reach
the ground. A failure to complete the circuit entails a loss of turn,
and on the next round the player begins again at the first compartment.
Jack-stones.
Is played with pebbles or shells. I am unable to give the special
movements, which resemble very much our own game. I suspect that it
is of Spanish origin.
Fletcher Gardner.
Indianapolis, Ind.
PART VI
Bagobo Myths
By Laura Watson Benedict
The following stories were obtained from the Bagobo people, one of
the groups of pagan Malays in southeastern Mindanao, Philippine
Islands. Their habitat is on the eastern folds of the Cabadangan
mountain-range, in the vicinity of Mount Apo, the highest peak,
and on the foothills thence sloping down to the west coast of the
Gulf of Davao. They practise a primitive agriculture--raising corn,
rice, camotes, and several vegetables--in fields and little gardens
at the edge of the forests. Their garments are of home-grown hemp;
and their artistic interests centre largely around the decorative
designs produced in dyeing, weaving, and embroidery.
In spite of physical barriers interposed by mountain-spurs, frequent
swift-flowing rivers, and dense undergrowth in the forests, there
is considerable intercourse between the small villages, each of
which contains from two to twenty or more houses. The people take
long journeys on horse and on foot over the trails to assemble at
ceremonial festivals and for purposes of trade, as well as for social
visiting. On such occasions, stories and songs are repeated.
That the component parts of the stories have been drawn from
numerous and widely separated sources, is apparent, even at a
cursory glance. Among these sources, the folk-lore material of
Sanscrit writers seems to have left a distinctive impress upon the
Bagobo mythical romance. Against a Malay background, and blended
with native pagan elements, are presented chains of episodes,
characteristic personalities, methods for securing a magical control
of the situation, that suggest vividly parallel literary forms in
the Sanscrit saga. Still more, one is conscious of a prevailing
Indian atmosphere, that may sometimes elude analysis, yet none the
less fails not to make itself felt. But as to the line of ethnic
contacts which has transfused this peculiar literary quality into Malay
myth,--whether it is to be traced solely to the influence exerted by
Hindoo religion and Hindoo literature during ages of domination in
the Malay archipelago, or whether we must reconsider the hypothesis
of an Indonesian migration,--this is a problem of great complexity,
for which no satisfactory solution has yet been offered.
Modern foreign increments that have filtered into the stories from
the folk-lore of neighboring wild tribes--notably that of the Bilan,
the Tagacolo, and, to a less extent, the Culaman and Ata--will have
to be sifted out eventually. In illustration of this point, one tale
known to be outside of Bagobo sources is here introduced. The story
of "Alelu'k and Alebu'tud" was told by an Ata boy to a Bagobo at the
coast, who immediately related it to me. It was unquestionably passed
on in Bagobo circles, and has become a permanent accession. Yet this
was the sole case that came under my observation of a social visit made
by an Ata in a Bagobo house; for the Ata live far to the northwest
of the Bagobo, and are extremely timid, and "wild" in the popular
sense. Recent ethnic influences from higher peoples, pre-eminently
the Moro and the Spaniard, will have to be reckoned with. The story of
"The Monkey and the Turtle" is clearly modified from a Spanish source.
The myths here presented include only those of which no texts were
recorded. A part of the material was given in the vernacular and
interpreted by a Bagobo; a part was told in English, or in mixed
English and Bagobo. The stories were taken down in 1907, on Mount
Merar in the district of Talun, and at Santa Cruz on the coast.
As regards subject-matter, the stories (ituran [27]) tend to cluster
into groups fairly distinguishable in type. Foremost in significance
for the cultural tradition of the people is the ulit, a long, romantic
tale relating in highly picturesque language the adventures of the
mythical Bagobo, who lived somewhere back in the hazy past, before
existing conditions were established. Semi-divine some of them were,
or men possessing magical power. The old Mona people; the Malaki,
who portrayed the Bagobo's ideal of manhood; and the noble lady called
Bia,--these and other well-marked characters figure in the ulit.
Another class of stories deals with the demons known as Buso, who
haunt graveyards, forests, and rocks. These tales have been built up
by numerous accretions from the folk-lore of many generations. The
fear of Buso is an ever-present element in the mental associations of
the Bagobo, and a definite factor in shaping ritual forms and magical
usages. But the story-teller delights to represent Buso as tricked,
fooled, brought into embarrassing situations.
Still another type of myth is associated with cosmogony and natural
phenomena. It is probable that more extended research would disclose a
complete cosmogonic myth to replace the somewhat fragmentary material
here offered.
The number of explanatory animal tales thus far collected is
surprisingly small. Doubtless there are many more to be gathered. Yet,
in view of the comparatively scanty mammalian fauna of Mindanao,
we might anticipate a somewhat limited range of animal subjects.
It will be observed that these groups of stories, tentatively thus
classified for convenience, are not separated by sharp lines. Buso
figures prominently in the ulit; animals play the part of heroes in
Buso tales; while in nature myths the traditional Mona are more or
less closely associated with the shifting of sky and sun. But this
is merely equivalent to saying that all the tales hang together.
A word as to the form of the stories and the manner of narration. Here
we find two distinct styles dependent on the content of the myth. The
tales of animals, cosmogonic myths, and the folk-lore of Buso,
are all told in prose, with many inflections of the voice, and often
accompanied by an animated play of dramatic gesture. In marked contrast
is the style of the mythical romance, or ulit, which is recited in a
rapid monotone, without change of pitch, with no gestures, and with a
regard to accent and quantity that gives a rhythmic swing suggestive
of a metrical rendering.
Although Bagobo songs are often designated as men's songs and women's
songs, in the case of the stories I have found as yet no monopoly by
either sex of any special type. The ulit, however, is often told by a
young woman just after she leaves the loom, when darkness drops. She
sits on the floor, or lies on her back with hands clasped behind
her head, and pours out her story in an unbroken flow to the eager
young men and girls who gather to listen. Again, I have seen a girl
of thirteen the sole auditor while a boy but little older than she
rolled off an ulit that seemed interminable, with never a pause for
breath. The children did not glance at each other; but the face of
each was all alight with joy at the tale.
CHAPTER I
Myths Associated with Natural Phenomena
Cosmogony
In the beginning, Diwata [28] made the sea and the land, and planted
trees of many kinds. Then he took two lumps of earth, [29] and shaped
them like human figures; then he spit on them, and they became
man and woman. The old man was called Tuglay, and the old woman,
Tuglibung. [30] The two were married, and lived together. The Tuglay
made a great house, and planted seeds of different kinds that Diwata
gave him.
Diwata made the sun, the moon, the stars, and the rivers. First he
made the great eel (kasili), a fish that is like a snake in the river,
and wound [31] it all around the world. Diwata then made the great crab
(kayumang), and put it near the great eel, and let it go wherever it
liked. Now, when the great crab bites the great eel, the eel wriggles,
and this produces an earthquake.
When the rain falls, it is Diwata throwing out water from the sky. When
Diwata spits, the showers fall. The sun makes yellow clouds, and the
yellow clouds make the colors of the rainbow. But the white clouds
are smoke from the fire of the gods.
In the Days of the Mona
Long ago the sun hung low over the earth. And the old woman called
Mona said to the sky, "You go up high, because I cannot pound my rice
when you are in the way."
Then the sky moved up higher.
Mona [32] was the first woman, and Tuglay [33] was the first man. There
were at that time only one man and one woman on the earth. Their
eldest son was named Malaki; their eldest daughter, Bia. They lived
at the centre of the earth.
Tuglay and Mona made all the things in the world; but the god made
the woman and the man. Mona was also called Tuglibung. Tuglay and
Tuglibung got rich, because they could see the god.
But the snake was there too, and he gave the fruit to the man and the
woman, saying to them, "If you eat the fruit, it will open your eyes."
Then they both ate the fruit. This made the god angry.
After this, Tuglibung and Tuglay could not see the god any more. [34]
Why the Sky Went Up
In the beginning, when the world was made, the sky lay low down
over the earth. At this time the poor families called "Mona" were
living in the world. The sky hung so low, that, when they wanted to
pound their rice, they had to kneel down on the ground to get a play
for the arm. Then the poor woman called Tuglibung said to the sky,
"Go up higher! Don't you see that I cannot pound my rice well?"
So the sky began to move upwards. When it had gone up about five
fathoms, the woman said again, "Go up still more!"
This made the sun angry at the woman, and he rushed up very high.
In the old days, when the sun as well as the sky was low down, the
Mona had a deep hole in the ground, as large as a house, into which
they would creep to keep themselves from the fierce heat of the sun.
The Mona were all very old; but after the sun went up very high,
they began to get babies. [35]
Why the Sky Went Up
In the beginning, the sky hung so low over the earth, that the people
could not stand upright, could not do their work.
For this reason, the man in the sky said to the sky, "Come up!" Then
the sky went up to its present place.
The Sun and the Moon
Long ago the Sun had to leave the Moon to go to another town. He
knew that his wife, the Moon, was expecting the birth of a child;
and, before going away, he said to her, "When your baby is born,
if it is a boy, keep it; if a girl, kill it."
A long time passed before the Sun could come back to the Moon,
and while he was gone, the Moon gave birth to her baby. It was a
girl. A beautiful child it was, with curly hair like binubbud, [36]
with burnished nails that looked like gold, and having the white
spots called pamoti [37] on its body. The mother felt very sad to
think of killing it, and so she hid it in the big box (kaban [38])
where they kept their clothes.
As soon as the Sun returned, he asked the Moon, "How about our baby?"
At once the Moon replied, "It was a girl: I killed it yesterday." The
Sun had only a week to stay at home with the Moon. One night he
dreamed that a boy with white hair came to him from heaven. The boy
stood close to him, and spoke these words:--
"Your wife got a baby, but it was a girl; and she hid it away from
you in the box."
When the Sun wakened from sleep, he was very angry at the Moon,
and the two fell to quarrelling about the baby. The Moon wanted the
child saved.
"You ought to keep it with you," she urged.
"No, no!" protested the Sun. "I cannot keep it, because my body is
so hot it would make your baby sick."
"And I cannot keep it," complained the Moon, "for my body is very dark;
and that would surely make the child sick."
Then the Sun fell into a passion of rage; and he seized his big
kampilan, [39] and slew the child. He cut its small body into
numberless little bits,--as many as the grains of sand that lie along
the seashore. Out of the window he tossed the pieces of the shining
little body; and, as the gleaming fragments sparkled to their places
in the sky, the stars came to birth.
Origin of the Stars
All the old Bagobo men say that the Sun and the Moon once had a
quarrel about the Moon's baby.
The Moon had a baby in her belly; and the Sun said, "If our baby is
a girl, we will kill it, because a girl could not be like me."
Then the Sun went on a journey to another town, and while he was gone,
the baby was born; but it was a girl. Now, the Moon felt very sorry to
think of her little child being killed, and she hid it in a box. In
a few days, the Sun came home to rest with his wife. Then he asked
her for the baby.
The Moon answered, "I killed it yesterday: it was a girl."
But the Sun did not believe what his wife said. Then he opened the
box to get his clothes, and there he saw a baby-girl. And the Sun
was very angry. He seized the baby and cut it into many pieces, and
threw the pieces out of the window. Then the pieces of the baby's
body became the stars.
Before the Sun and the Moon had their quarrel, they journeyed together
through the sky, and the sky was not far above the earth, as now,
but it lay low down.
The Fate of the Moon's Baby
The Sun wanted the Moon to have a boy-baby so that it would be like its
father. The Moon too hoped to give birth to a boy. But when the child
was born, it was a girl. Now, at that time, the Moon was very hungry,
and wanted to eat her own baby. Then the Sun killed the girl-child,
and ate it up himself.
The Black Men at the Door of the Sun
The men who live in that part of the world near to where the sun
rises are very black. They are called Manobo tagselata k'alo. [40]
From sunrise until noon, they stay in a hole in the ground to escape
the fierce heat of the sun. Just before sunrise, they put their rice
in the big pot, with water, and leave it without any fire under the
pot. Then they creep into their hole in the ground. The rising sun
cooks the rice; and, when the black men come out of the hole at noon,
their meal is all ready for them. From noon until sunset, and then
all night, the black men play and work. But before the sun rises,
they fix their rice in the pot, leave it for the sun to cook, and go
down again into the big hole.
Story of the Eclipse
Before time began, very long ago, a great bird called "minokawa" [41]
swallowed the moon. Seized with fear, all the people began to scream
and make a great noise. Then the bird peeped down to see what was the
matter, and he opened his mouth. But as soon as he opened his mouth,
the moon sprang out and ran away.
The minokawa-bird is as large as the Island of Negros or Bohol. He has
a beak of steel, and his claws too are of steel. His eyes are mirrors,
and each single feather is a sharp sword. He lives outside the sky,
at the eastern horizon, ready to seize the moon when she reaches
there from her journey under the earth.
The moon makes eight holes in the eastern horizon to come out of,
and eight holes in the western horizon to go into, because every day
the big bird tries to catch her, and she is afraid. The exact moment
he tries to swallow her is just when she is about to come in through
one of the holes in the east to shine on us again. If the minokawa
should swallow the moon, and swallow the sun too, he would then
come down to earth and gulp down men also. But when the moon is in
the belly of the big bird, and the sky is dark, then all the Bagobo
scream and cry, and beat agongs, [42] because they fear they will all
"get dead." Soon this racket makes the minokawa-bird look down and
"open his mouth to hear the sound." Then the moon jumps out of the
bird's mouth and runs away.
All the old men know about the minokawa-bird in the ulit stories.
CHAPTER II
The "Ulit:" Adventures of Mythical Bagobo at the Dawn of Tradition
Lumabat and Mebu'yan
Long ago Lumabat [43] and his sister (tube' [44]) had a quarrel
because Lumabat had said, "You shall go with me up into heaven." And
his sister had replied, "No, I don't like to do that."
Then they began to fight each other. Soon the woman sat down on the
big rice mortar, [45] and said to Lumabat, "Now I am going down below
the earth, down to Gimokudan. [46] Down there I shall begin to shake
the lemon-tree. Whenever I shake it, somebody up on the earth will
die. If the fruit shaken down be ripe, then an old person will die on
the earth; but if the fruit fall green, the one to die will be young."
Then she took a bowl filled with pounded rice, and poured the rice
into the mortar for a sign that the people should die and go down
to Gimokudan. Presently the mortar began to turn round and round
while the woman was sitting upon it. All the while, as the mortar
was revolving, it was slowly sinking into the earth. But just as
it began to settle in the ground, the woman dropped handfuls of the
pounded rice upon the earth, with the words: "See! I let fall this
rice. This makes many people die, dropping down just like grains of
rice. Thus hundreds of people go down; but none go up into heaven."
Straightway the mortar kept on turning round, and kept on going lower
down, until it disappeared in the earth, with Lumabat's sister still
sitting on it. After this, she came to be known as Mebu'yan. Before
she went down below the earth, she was known only as Tube' ka Lumabat
("sister of Lumabat").
Mebu'yan is now chief of a town called Banua Mebu'yan ("Mebu'yan's
town"), where she takes care of all dead babies, and gives them milk
from her Breasts. Mebu'yan is ugly to look at, for her whole body is
covered with nipples. All nursing children who still want the milk, go
directly, when they die, to Banua Mebu'yan, instead of to Gimokudan,
and remain there with Mebu'yan until they stop taking milk from her
breast. Then they go to their own families in Gimokudan, where they
can get rice, and "live" very well.
All the spirits stop at Mebu'yan's town, on their way to
Gimokudan. There the spirits wash all their joints in the black
river that runs through Banua Mebu'yan, and they wash the tops of
their heads too. This bathing (pamalugu [47]) is for the purpose of
making the spirits feel at home, so that they will not run away and
go back to their own bodies. If the spirit could return to its body,
the body would get up and be alive again.
Story of Lumabat and Wari
Tuglay and Tuglibung [48] had many children. One of them was called
Lumabat. There came a time when Lumabat quarrelled with his sister
and was very angry with her. He said, "I will go to the sky, and
never come back again."
So Lumabat started for the sky-country, and many of his brothers and
sisters went with him. A part of their journey lay over the sea,
and when they had passed the sea, a rock spoke to them and said,
"Where are you going?"
In the beginning, all the rocks and plants and the animals could talk
[49] with the people. Then one boy answered the rock, "We are going
to the sky-country."
As soon as he had spoken, the boy turned into a rock. But his brothers
and sisters went on, leaving the rock behind.
Presently a tree said, "Where are you going?"
"We are going to the sky," replied one of the girls.
Immediately the girl became a tree. Thus, all the way along the
journey, if any one answered, he became a tree, or stone, or rock,
according to the nature of the object that put the question.
By and by the remainder of the party reached the border of the
sky. They had gone to the very end of the earth, as far as the
horizon. But here they had to stop, because the horizon kept moving
up and down (supa-supa). The sky and the earth would part, and then
close together again, just like the jaws of an animal in eating. This
movement of the horizon began as soon as the people reached there.
There were many young men and women, and they all tried to jump
through the place where the sky and the earth parted. But the edges
of the horizon are very sharp, like a kampilan, [50] and they came
together with a snap whenever anybody tried to jump through; and they
cut him into two pieces. Then the parts of his body became stones, or
grains of sand. One after another of the party tried to jump through,
for nobody knew the fate of the one who went before him.
Last of all, Lumabat jumped--quick, quicker than the rest; and before
the sharp edges snapped shut, he was safe in heaven. As he walked
along, he saw many wonderful things. He saw many kampilans standing
alone, and fighting, and that without any man to hold them. Lumabat
passed on by them all. Then he came to the town where the bad dead
live. The town is called "Kilut." [51] There, in the flames, he saw
many spirits with heavy sins on them. The spirits with little sins
were not in the flames; but they lay, their bodies covered with sores,
in an acid that cuts like the juice of a lemon. Lumabat went on,
past them all.
Finally he reached the house of Diwata, [52] and went up into the
house. There he saw many diwata, and they were chewing betel-nut, [53]
And one diwata spit from his mouth the isse [54] that he had finished
chewing. When Lumabat saw the isse coming from the mouth of the god,
it looked to him like a sharp knife. Then Diwata laid hold of Lumabat,
and Lumabat thought the god held a sharp knife in his hand. But it
was no knife: it was just the isse. And Diwata rubbed the isse on
Lumabat's belly, and with one downward stroke he opened the belly,
and took out Lumabat's intestines (betuka).
Then Lumabat himself became a god. He was not hungry any more, for
now his intestines were gone. Yet if he wanted to eat, he had only
to say, "Food, come now!" and at once all the fish were there, ready
to be caught. In the sky-country, fish do not have to be caught. And
Lumabat became the greatest of all the diwata.
Now, when Lumabat left home with his brothers and sisters, one sister
and three brothers remained behind. The brother named Wari felt sad
because Lumabat had gone away. At last he decided to follow him. He
crossed the sea, and reached the border of the sky, which immediately
began to make the opening and shutting motions. But Wari was agile,
like his brother Lumabat; and he jumped quick, just like Lumabat,
and got safe into heaven. Following the same path that his brother had
taken, he reached the same house. And again Diwata took the isse, and
attempted to open Wari's belly; but Wari protested, for he did not like
to have his intestines pulled out. Therefore the god was angry at Wari.
Yet Wari staid on in the house for three days. Then he went out
on the atad [55] that joined the front and back part of the gods'
house, whence he could look down on the earth. He saw his home town,
and it made him happy to look at his fields of sugarcane and bananas,
his groves of betel and cocoanuts. There were his bananas ripe, and
all his fruits ready to be plucked. Wari gazed, and then he wanted to
get back to earth again, and he began to cry; for he did not like to
stay in heaven and have his intestines taken out, and he was homesick
for his own town.
Now, the god was angry at Wari because he would not let him open
his belly. And the god told Wari to go home, and take his dogs with
him. First the god fixed some food for Wari to eat on his journey. Then
he took meadow-grass (karan), and tied the long blades together, making
a line long enough to reach down to earth. He tied Wari and the dogs to
one end of the line; but before he lowered the rope, he said to Wari,
"Do not eat while you are up in the air, for if you eat, it will
set your dogs to quarrelling. If I hear the sound of dogs fighting,
I shall let go the rope."
But while Wari hung in the air, he got very hungry, and, although he
had been let down only about a third of the distance from heaven to
earth, he took some of his food and ate it. Immediately the dogs began
to fight. Then Diwata in the sky heard the noise, and he dropped the
rope of meadow-grass. Then Wari fell down, down; but he did not strike
the ground, for he was caught in the branches of the tree called
lanipo. It was a tall tree, and Wari could not get down. He began
to utter cries; and all night he kept crying, "Aro-o-o-o-i!" Then he
turned into a kulago-bird. [56] At night, when you hear the call of
the kulago-bird, you know that it is the voice of Wari.
The kulago-bird has various sorts of feathers, feathers of all kinds
of birds and chickens; it has the hair of all animals and the hair
of man. This bird lives in very high trees at night, and you cannot
see it. You cannot catch it. Yet the old men know a story about
a kulago-bird once having been caught while it was building its
nest. But this was after there came to be many people on the earth.
The three dogs went right along back to Wari's house. They found Wari's
sister and two brothers at home, and staid there with them. After a
while, the woman and her two brothers had many children.
"In the beginning," say the old men, "brother and sister would marry
each other, just like pigs. This was a very bad custom."
How Man Turned into a Monkey
Before the world was made, the monkey looked like man, and was called
manobo, [57] and was actually human. But after the world and people
were made, the monkey took its present form.
When people began to live in the world, they had many children. One
man was called Lumabat. His father had a number of children, so that
Lumabat had many brothers and sisters.
One day a brother of Lumabat was climbing up over the roof, and in
his hand he had a long ladle made of cocoanut-shell. He held the ladle
behind his back, at the base of his spine, until by and by a tail began
to grow. The ladle had turned into a tail, and presently Lumabat's
brother became a monkey. After that, a few other people turned into
monkeys. But all this came about before Lumabat went to heaven.
The Tuglibung and the Tuglay
Before time began, [58] an old woman (Tuglibung) and an old man
(Tuglay) lived in a town at the centre of the world. There came a
season of drought, when their bananas spoiled, and all their plants
died from the hot sun. Tuglibung and Tuglay were very hungry, and
looked skinny, because they had nothing to eat.
One night as the old man slept, he dreamed that a little boy with
white hair came close to him, and said, "Much better it would be, if
you wouldstay here no longer; much better, that you go to the T'oluk
Waig [59] ('water-sources'), where there is a good place to live."
So the old folks started on their journey to the source of the
rivers. On their way, they stopped at one place that seemed good, and
staid for about a month; but there was little to eat, and they were
always hungry. At last, one day, the man climbed up into a tall tree,
whence he could see the whole earth, even to the border of the sky. Far
away he could see a little smoke, just like a cigarette. Then he
climbed "down the tree in a hurry, and told his wife what he had seen.
"I will go and find out where that smoke comes from," he said,
"and see if I can get some bananas and things,--all we can eat."
So the man started out and travelled a long way, leaving his wife at
home. As he approached the place where he had seen the smoke, he found
himself in a vast field full of fruit-trees and sugarcane-plants. The
sugarcane grew as big as trees; the bananas were as huge as the
trunks of cocoanut-palms; and the papaya-fruit was the size of a
great clay jar. He walked on until he reached a very large meadow,
full of long wavy grass, where there were many horses and carabao
and other animals. Soon after he left the meadow-grass, he could make
out, some distance ahead of him, a big house with many smaller houses
grouped around it. He was so scared that he could not see the houses
very well. He kept his eyes on the ground at his feet.
When he came up to the big house, he saw lying under it piles of human
bones. He then knew that the Datu of the Buso [60] lived there. In
all the other houses there were buso living too. But he went bravely
up the steps of the big house, and sat down on the floor. Right away,
while he sat there, the children of Buso wanted to eat him. But Tuglay
said, "No, no! don't eat me, because I just came to get bananas of
many different kinds."
Then the man made a bargain with the Datu of the Buso, and said,
"Give me some bananas, and I will pay you two children for them. Come
to my house in nine days, and you shall have one boy and one girl
for the bananas." But Tuglay had no children.
Then the Buso gave Tuglay a basket of bananas, and let him go away.
Now, while her husband was away, the woman gave birth to twins,--a
boy and a girl. And when the man got home he was pleased, and said,
"Oh! that's fine! You got some babies while I was away."
But the man felt very sorry to think of giving his children to the
Buso, and he went from place to place, hoping to find some friend
who would help him. All the time, the days of the falla ("time of
contract") were slipping by. He could get nobody to help him. Now
it lacked only two of the nine days' falla. And while the children
were asleep, Tuglay said to his wife, "Let us run away, and leave
our babies here asleep, because to-morrow the Buso will come."
Then Tuglay and Tuglibung ran away, and left their children. They ran
and ran until they reached the T'oluk Waig; but they could not get
away from the falla. The nine days of falla had caught up with them.
At home, the children woke up and found no mother and father there, and
they began to cry. They thought they would run after their parents. So
they left the house, and forded the river, and began to run.
When the nine days were up, the Buso came to Tuglay's house for his
pay. When he found nobody at home, he ran after the children, carrying
with him many iron axes and big bolos, and accompanied by a crowd
of other buso. In all there were three thousand buso,--two thousand
walking, and one thousand flying. The children had the start; but the
three thousand buso kept gaining on them, until they were close behind.
As they ran, the little boy said to his sister, "When we get to that
field over there, where there are ripe bananas, you must not speak
a word."
But when they reached the banana-tree, the girl-child cried out,
"Brother, I want to eat a banana."
Then she ate a banana; but she felt so weak she could run no
longer. She just lay down and died. Then the boy-child looked about
for a place to put his sister's body. He looked at the fine branched
trees, full of fruit, and saw that each single fruit was an agong,
[61] and the leaves, mother-of-pearl.
To one of the trees, the boy said, "May I put my sister here?" And
the tree said that he might do it.
Then the boy laid his sister on a branch of the tree, because the
child was dead.
After this, the boy ran back toward the Buso who led the rest,
and called out to him, "I'm going to run very fast. Chase me now,
and catch me if you can!"
So the boy ran, and the Buso chased him. Hard pressed, the boy sprang
toward a big rock, and shouted to it, "O rock, help me! The Buso will
catch me."
"Come up!" said the rock, "I'll help you, if I can."
But when the boy climbed up, he found that it was not a rock, but
a fine house, that was giving him shelter. In that house lived the
Black Lady (Bia t' metum [62]), and she received the boy kindly.
As soon as the Buso came up to the rock, he smiled, and said, "The
boy is here all right! I'll break the rock with my axe."
But when he tried to break the rock with axe and poko, [63] the hard
stone resisted; and the Buso's tools were blunted and spoiled.
Meantime, in the Black Lady's house the boy was getting ready for
a fight, because the Black Lady said, "Go down now; they want you
down there."
Then with sharp sword and long spear, bearing a fine war-shield,
and wearing ear-plugs of shining ivory, the boy went down to meet
the Buso. When he went down the steps, all the other buso had come,
and were waiting for him in front of the house. Then they all went
to fighting the one boy, and he met them all alone. He fought until
every one of the three thousand buso fell down dead. At last, one only
of the buso stood up, and he was the great Datu of Buso. But even he
fell down before that mighty boy, for none could conquer the boy. He
was matulus. [64] After all was done, the boy married the Black Lady,
and lived well in her house.
Adventures of the Tuglay [65]
It was eight [66] million (kati) years ago, in the days of the Mona,
[67] that the following events took place.
The Tuglay lived in a fine house the walls of which were all mirrored
glass, and the roof was hung with brass chains. One day he went out
into the woods to snare jungle-fowl, and he slept in the woods all
night. The next day, when he turned to go home, he found himself
puzzled as to which trail to take. He tried one path after another,
but none seemed to lead to his house. At last he said to himself,
"I have lost my way: I shall never be able to get home."
Then he walked on at random until he came to a vast field of rice,
where great numbers of men were cutting the palay. [68] But the
rice-field belonged to Buso, and the harvesters were all buso-men. When
they saw Tuglay at the edge of their field, they were glad, and said
to one another, "There's a man! We will carry him home."
Then the buso caught Tuglay, and hastened home with him. Now, the great
Buso's mansion stretched across the tops of eight million mountains,
and very many smaller houses were on the sides of the mountains,
all around the great Buso's house; for this was the city of the buso
where they had taken Tuglay. As he was carried through the groves
of cocoanut-palms on Buso's place, all the Cocoanuts called out,
"Tuglay, Tuglay, in a little while the Buso will eat you!"
Into the presence of the great chief of all the buso, they dragged
Tuglay. The Datto Buso was fearful to look at. From his head grew
one great horn of pure ivory, and flames of fire were blazing from
the horn. The Datto Buso questioned the man.
"First of all, I will ask you where you come from, Tuglay."
"I am come from my house in T'oluk Waig," replied the man.
And the great Buso shouted, "I will cut off your head with my sharp
kris!" [69]
"But if I choose, I can kill you with your own sword," boldly answered
Tuglay.
Then he lay down, and let the Buso try to cut his neck. The Buso swung
his sharp sword; but the steel would not cut Tuglay's neck. The Buso
did not know that no knife could wound the neck of Tuglay, unless fire
were laid upon his throat at the same time. This was eight million
years ago that the Buso tried to cut off the head of Tuglay.
Then another day the Tuglay spoke to all the buso, "It is now my turn:
let me try whether I can cut your necks."
After this speech, Tuglay stood up and took from his mouth the chewed
betel-nut that is called isse, and made a motion as if he would rub
the isse on the great Buso's throat. When the Buso saw the isse, he
thought it was a sharp knife, and he was frightened. All the lesser
buso began to weep, fearing that their chief would be killed; for
the isse appeared to all of them as a keen-bladed knife. The tears
of all the buso ran down like blood; they wept streams and streams
of tears that all flowed together, forming a deep lake, red in color.
Then Tuglay rubbed the chewed betel on the great Buso's throat. One
pass only he made with the isse, and the Buso's head was severed from
his body. Both head and body of the mighty Buso rolled down into the
great lake of tears, and were devoured by the crocodiles.
Now, the Tuglay was dressed like a poor man,--in bark (bunut [70])
garments. But as soon as he had slain the Buso, he struck a blow at
his own legs, and the bark trousers fell off. Then he stamped on the
ground, and struck his body, and immediately his jacket and kerchief
of bark fell off from him. There he stood, no longer the poor Tuglay,
but a Malaki T'oluk Waig, [71] with a gleaming kampilan in his hand.
Then he was ready to fight all the other buso. First he held the
kampilan in his left hand, and eight million buso fell down dead. Then
he held the kampilan in his right hand, and eight million more
buso fell down dead. After that, the Malaki went over to the house
of Buso's daughter, who had but one eye, and that in the middle of
her forehead. She shrieked with fear when she saw the Malaki coming;
and he struck her with his kampilan, so that she too, the woman-buso,
fell down dead.
After these exploits, the Malaki T'oluk Waig went on his way. He
climbed over the mountains of benati, [72] whose trees men go far
to seek, and then he reached the mountains of barayung and balati
wood. From these peaks, exultant over his foes, he gave a good war-cry
that re-echoed through the mountains, and went up to the ears of the
gods. Panguli'li and Salamia'wan [73] heard it from their home in the
Shrine of the Sky (Tambara ka Langit), and they said, "Who chants the
song of war (ig-sungal)? Without doubt, it is the Malak T'oluk Waig,
for none of all the other malaki could shout just like that."
His duty performed, the Malaki left the ranges of balati and barayung,
walked down toward the sea, and wandered along the coast until he
neared a great gathering of people who had met for barter. It was
market-day, and all sorts of things were brought for trade. Then the
Malaki T'oluk Waig struck his legs and his chest, before the people
caught sight of him; and immediately he was clothed in his old bark
trousers and jacket and kerchief, just like a poor man. Then he
approached the crowd, and saw the people sitting on the ground in
little groups, talking, and offering their things for sale.
The Malaki Lindig Ramut ka Langit [74] and all the other malaki [75]
from the surrounding country were there. They called out to him,
"Where are you going?"
The Tuglay told them that he had got lost, and had been travelling
a long distance. As he spoke, he noticed, sitting among a group of
young men, the beautiful woman called Moglung.
She motioned to him, and said, "Come, sit down beside me."
And the Tuglay sat down on the ground, near the Moglung. Then the
woman gave presents of textiles to the Malaki Lindig Ramut ka Langit
and the other malaki in her crowd. But to the Tuglay she gave betel-nut
that she had prepared for him.
After that, the Moglung said to all the malaki, "This time I am going
to leave you, because I want to go home."
And off went the Moglung with the Tuglay, riding on the wind. After
many days, the Moglung and the Tuglay rested on the mountains
of barayung, and, later, on the mountains of balakuna-trees. From
these heights, they looked out over a vast stretch of open country,
where the deep, wavy meadow-grass glistened like gold; and pastured
there were herds of cows and carabao and many horses. And beyond rose
another range of mountains, on the highest of which stood the Moglung's
house. To reach it they had to cross whole forests of cocoanut and
betel-nut trees that covered eight million mountains. Around the
house were all kinds of useful plants and trees. When they walked
under the floor [76] of the house, the Moglung said, "My grandmother
is looking at me because I have found another grandchild for her."
Then the grandmother (Tuglibung) called to them, saying, "Come up,
come up, my grandchildren!"
As soon as they entered the house, the Tuglay sat down in a corner of
the kitchen, until the grandmother offered him a better place, saying,
"Do not stay in the kitchen. Come and sleep on my bed."
The Tuglay rested eight nights in the grandmother's bed. At the end of
the eight nights the Moglung said to him, "Please take this betel-nut
that I have prepared for you."
At first Tuglay did not want to take it; but the next day, when the
Moglung again offered the betel, he accepted it from her and began
to chew. After that, the Tuglay took off his trousers of bark and
his jacket of bark, and became a Malaki T'oluk Waig. But the Moglung
wondered where the Tuglay had gone, and she cried to her grandmother,
"Where is the Tuglay?"
But the Malaki stood there, and answered her, "I am the Tuglay." At
first the Moglung was grieved, because the Malaki seemed such a grand
man, and she wanted Tuglay back.
But before long the Malaki said to her, "I want you to marry me." So
they were married. Then the Moglung opened her gold box, and took out
a fine pair of trousers (saroa'r [77]) and a man's jacket (umpak [78]
ka mama), and gave them to the Malaki as a wedding-gift.
When they had been living together for a while, there came a day when
the Malaki wanted to go and visit a man who was a great worker in
brass,--the Malaki Tuangun; [79] and the Moglung gave him directions
for the journey, saying, "You will come to a place where a hundred
roads meet. Take the road that is marked with the prints of many
horses and carabao. Do not stop at the place of the crossroads,
for if you stop, the Bia [80] who makes men giddy will hurt you."
Then the Malaki went away, and reached the place where a hundred
roads crossed, as Moglung had said. But he stopped there to rest and
chew betel-nut. Soon he began to feel queer and dizzy, and he fell
asleep, not knowing anything. When he woke up, he wandered along up
the mountain until he reached a house at the border of a big meadow,
and thought he would stop and ask his way. From under the house he
called up, "Which is the road to the Malaki Tuangun?"
It was the Bia's voice that answered, "First come up here, and then
I'll tell you the road."
So the Malaki jumped up on the steps and went in. But when he was
inside of her house, the Bia confessed that she did not know the way
to the Malaki Tuangun's house.
"I am the woman," she said, "who made you dizzy, because I wanted to
have you for my own."
"Oh! that's the game," said the Malaki. "But the Moglung is my wife,
and she is the best woman in the world."
"Never mind that," smiled the Bia. "Just let me comb your hair." Then
the Bia gave him some betel-nut, and combed his hair until he grew
sleepy. But as he was dropping off, he remembered a certain promise
he had made his wife, and he said to the Bia, "If the Moglung comes
and finds me here, you be sure to waken me."
After eight days had passed from the time her husband left home,
the Moglung started out to find him, for he had said, "Eight days
from now I will return."
By and by the Moglung came to the Bia's house, and found the Malaki
there fast asleep; but the Bia did not waken him. Then the Moglung
took from the Malaki's toes his toe-rings (paniod [81]), and went away,
leaving a message with the Bia:--
"Tell the Malaki that I am going back home to find some other malaki:
tell him that I'll have no more to do with him."
But the Moglung did not go to her own home: she at once started for
her brother's house that was up in the sky-country.
Presently the Malaki woke up, and when he looked at his toes, he
found that his brass toe-rings were gone.
"The Moglung has been here!" he cried in a frenzy. "Why didn't you
waken me, as I told you?" Then he seized his sharp-bladed kampilan,
and slew the Bia. Maddened by grief and rage, he dashed to the door
and made one leap to the ground, screaming, "All the people in the
world shall fall by my sword!"
On his war-shield he rode, and flew with the wind until he came to
the horizon. Here lived the Malaki Lindig Ramut ka Langit. [82] And
when the two malaki met, they began to fight; and the seven brothers
of the Malaki Lindig that live at the edge of the sky, likewise came
out to fight. But when the battle had gone on but a little time,
all the eight malaki of the horizon fell down dead. Then the angry
Malaki who had slain the Bia and the eight young men went looking
for more people to kill; and when he had shed the blood of many, he
became a buso with only one eye in his forehead, for the buso with
one eye are the worst buso of all. Everybody that he met he slew.
After some time, he reached the house of the great priest called
"Pandita," and the Pandita checked him, saying, "Stop a minute,
and let me ask you first what has happened to make you like this."
Then the Buso-man replied sadly, "I used to have a wife named Moglung,
who was the best of all the bia; but when I went looking for the Malaki
Tuangun, that other Bia made me dizzy, and gave me betel, and combed my
hair. Then she was my wife for a little while. But I have killed her,
and become a buso, and I want to kill all the people in the world."
"You had better lie down on my mat here, and go to sleep," advised
the Pandita. While the Buso slept, the Pandita rubbed his joints with
betel-nut; and when he woke up, he was a malaki again.
Then the Pandita talked to him, and said, "Only a few days
ago, the Moglung passed here on her way to her brother's home in
heaven. She went by a bad road, for she would have to mount the steep
rock-terraces. If you follow, you will come first to the Terraces of
the Wind (Tarasu'ban ka Kara'mag [83]), then you reach the Terraces of
Eight-fold Darkness (Walu Lapit Dukilum [84]), and then the Terraces
of the Rain (Tarasuban k'Udan [85]).
Eagerly the Malaki set out on his journey, with his kabir [86] on his
back, and his betel-nut and buyo-leaf [87] in the kabir. He had not
travelled far, before he came to a steep ascent of rock-terraces,--the
Terraces of the Wind, that had eight million steps. The Malaki knew
not how to climb up the rocky structure that rose sheer before him,
and so he sat down at the foot of the ascent, and took his kabir off
his back to get out some betel-nut. After he had begun to chew his
betel, he began to think, and he pondered for eight days how he could
accomplish his hard journey. On the ninth day he began to jump up the
steps of the terraces, one by one. On each step he chewed betel, and
then jumped again; and at the close of the ninth day he had reached
the top of the eight million steps, and was off, riding on his shield.
Next he reached the sharp-edged rocks called the "Terraces of Needles"
(Tarasuban ka Simat), that had also eight million steps. Again he
considered for eight days how he could mount them. Then on the
ninth day he sprang from terrace to terrace, as before, chewing
betel-nut on each terrace, and left the Tarasuban ka Simat, riding
on his shield. Then he arrived at the Terraces of Sheet-Lightning
(Tarasuban ka Dilam-dilam); and he took his kabir off his back, and
prepared a betel-nut, chewed it, and meditated for eight days. On the
ninth day he jumped from step to step of the eight million terraces,
and went riding off on his war-shield. When he reached the Terraces
of Forked-Lightning (Tarasuban ka Kirum), he surmounted them on the
ninth day, like the others.
But now he came to a series of cuestas named "Dulama Bolo Kampilan,"
[88] because one side of each was an abrupt cliff with the sharp edge
of a kampilan; and the other side sloped gradually downward, like a
blunt-working bolo. How to cross these rocks, of which there were eight
million, the Malaki did not know; so he stopped and took off his kabir,
cut up his betel-nut, and thought for eight days. Then on the ninth day
he began to leap over the rocks, and he kept on leaping for eight days,
each day jumping over one million of the cuestas. On the sixteenth
day he was off, riding on his shield. Then he reached the Terraces
of the Thunder (Tarasuban ka Kilat), which he mounted, springing
from one terrace to the next, as before, after he had meditated for
eight days. Leaving these behind him on the ninth day, he travelled
on to the Mountains of Bamboo (Pabungan Kawayanan), covered with
bamboo whose leaves were all sharp steel. These mountains he could
cross without the eight days' thought, because their sides sloped
gently. From the uplands he could see a broad sweep of meadow beyond,
where the grass glistened like gold. And when he had descended, and
walked across the meadow, he had to pass through eight million groves
of cocoanut-trees, where the fruit grew at the height of a man's waist,
and every cocoanut had the shape of a bell (korung-korung). Then he
reached a forest of betel-nut, where again the nuts could be plucked
without the trouble of climbing, for the clusters grew at the height
of a man's waist. Beyond, came the meadows with white grass, and
plants whose leaves were all of the rare old embroidered cloth called
tambayang. [89] He then found himself at the foot-hills of a range of
eight million mountains, rising from the heart of the meadows, and,
when he had climbed to their summit, he stood before a fine big house.
From the ground he called out, "If anybody lives in this house, let
him come look at me, for I want to find the way to the Shrine in the
Sky, or to the Little Heaven, where my Moglung lives."
But nobody answered.
Then the Malaki sprang up the bamboo ladder and looked in at the door,
but he saw no one in the house. He was weary, after his journey,
and sat down to rest in a chair made of gold that stood there. Soon
there came to his ears the sound of men's voices, calling out,
"There is the Malaki T'oluk Waig in the house."
The Malaki looked around the room, but there was no man there, only
a little baby swinging in its cradle. Outside the house were many
malaki from the great town of Lunsud, and they came rushing in the
door, each holding a keen blade without handle (sobung). They all
surrounded the Malaki in the gold chair, ready to fight him. But the
Malaki gave them all some betel-nut from his kabir, and made the men
friendly toward him. Then all pressed around the Malaki to look at
his kabir, which shone like gold. They had never before seen a man's
bag like this one. "It is the kabir of the Malaki T'oluk Waig," they
said. The Malaki slept that night with the other malaki in the house.
When morning came, the day was dark, like night, for the sun did not
shine. Then the Malaki took his kampilan and stuck it into his belt,
and sat down on his shield. There was no light on the next day,
nor on the next. For eight days the pitchy darkness lasted; but
on the ninth day it lifted. Quick from its cradle jumped the baby,
now grown as tall as the bariri-plant; that is, almost knee-high.
"Cowards, all of you!" cried the child to the Malaki Lunsud. "You are
no malaki at all, since you cannot fight the Malaki T'oluk Waig." Then,
turning to the Malaki T'oluk Waig, the little fellow said, "Please
teach me how to hold the spear."
When the Malaki had taught the boy how to make the strokes, the two
began to fight; for the boy, who was called the Pangalinan, [90] was
eager to use his spear against the Malaki. But the Malaki had magical
power (matulus [91]), so that when the Pangalinan attacked him with
sword or spear, the blades of his weapons dissolved into water. For
eight million days the futile battle went on. At last the Pangalinan
gave it up, complaining to the Malaki T'oluk Waig, "How can I keep
on fighting you, when every time I hit you my knives turn to water?"
Disheartened, the Pangalinan threw away his spear and his sword. But
the Malaki would not hurt the Pangalinan when they were fighting;
and as soon as the boy had flung his weapons outside the house,
the Malaki put his arm around him and drew him close. After that,
the two were friends.
One day the Pangalinan thought he would look inside the big gold box
that stood in the house. It was his mother's box. The boy went and
raised the lid, but as soon as the cover was lifted, his mother came
out from the box. After this had happened, the Pangalinan got ready
to go and find the Moglung whom the Malaki had been seeking. The
boy knew where she lived, for he was the Moglung's little brother
(tube' [92]). He took the bamboo ladder that formed the steps to
the house, and placed it so that it would reach the Shrine in the
Sky, whither the Moglung had gone. Up the bamboo rounds he climbed,
until he reached the sky and found his sister. He ran to her crying,
"Quick! come with me! The great Malaki T'oluk Waig is down there."
Then the Moglung came down from heaven with her little brother to their
house where the Malaki was waiting for her. The Moglung and the Malaki
were very happy to meet again, and they slept together that night.
Next day the Moglung had a talk with the Malaki, and said, "Now I want
to live with you; but you remember that other woman, Maguay Bulol,
that you used to sleep with. You will want her too, and you had better
send for her."
So the Malaki summoned Maguay Bulol, and in a few minutes Maguay
Bulol was there. Then the Malaki had two wives, and they all lived
in the same house forever.
The Tuglay and the Bia
Long ago, in the days of the Mona, the Tuglay lived on a high
mountain. He lived very well, for his cocoanut-trees grew on both
sides of the mountain. But he had no hemp-plants, and so he had to
make his clothes of the soft dry sheath that covers the trunk of
the cocoanut-palm (bunut). This stuff caught fire easily, and many a
time his clothes ignited from the flame where his dinner was cooking,
and then he would have to make fresh garments from bunut.
One day he looked from his house over the neighboring mountains,
and saw the village of Koblun. He thought it looked pretty in the
distance. Then he looked in another direction, and saw the town of
the Malaki Tuangun, and said, "Ah! that is just as nice looking as
the Koblun town. I will go and see the town of the Malaki Tuangun."
Immediately he got ready for the journey. He took his spear (that
was only half a spear, because the fire had burned off a part of
the handle) and his shield, that was likewise only half a shield. He
started out, and walked on and on until he reached the mountains called
"Pabungan Mangumbiten."
Now, on another mountain there lived a young man named the Malaki
Itanawa, with his little sister. They lived alone together, for they
were orphans. The young girl said to her brother, "Let us travel over
the mountains to-day."
And the boy answered, "Yes, my sister, we will go."
And the two climbed over the hills, and they reached the Pabungan
Mangumbiten soon after the Tuglay. And they were astonished to see
the great Tuglay. But when the Tuglay saw the young girl, who was
named Bia Itanawa Inelu, [93] he was so bewildered and startled that
he turned away his eyes, and could not look at the sister and brother.
Then the girl prepared a betel-nut and offered it to the Tuglay,
but he did not like to accept it. But when she had pressed it upon
him many times, he took the betel and chewed it.
Then the girl said, "Come with my brother and me to my house, for we
have no companion."
But when the girl saw the Tuglay hesitate, she asked him, "Where were
you going when we met you?"
The Tuglay answered, "I want to go to the town of the Malaki Tuangun,
for to my home has come the word that the Malaki is a mighty man,
and his sister a great lady."
Then the girl looked at the Tuglay, and said, "If you want to make
ready to go to the Malaki Tuangun's town, you ought to put on your
good trousers and a nice jacket."
At that, the Tuglay looked mournful; for he was a poor man, and had no
fine clothes. Then, when the girl saw how the case stood, she called
for beautiful things, such as a malaki wears,--fine hemp trousers,
beaded jacket, good war-shield and brass-bound spear, ear-plugs
of pure ivory, and eight necklaces of beads and gold. Straightway
at the summons of the Bia, all the fine things appeared; and the
Tuglay got ready to go away. He was no longer the poor Tuglay. His
name was now the Malaki Dugdag Lobis Maginsulu. Like two big moons,
his ivory ear-plugs shone; when he moved his shield, flames of living
fire shot from it; and when he held up his spear, the day would grow
dark, because he was a brave man. His new clothes he sent [94] upon
the swift wind to the Malaki Tuangun's town.
When the Tuglay started, the Bia gave him her own brass betel-box
(katakia [95]) to take with him. It was a katakia that made sounds,
and was called a "screaming katakia."
"May I eat the betel-nut from your box?" asked the man; and she
replied, "Yes, but do not throw away the other things in the box."
The Malaki Dugdag Lobis Maginsulu walked on until he reached the town
of the Malaki Tuangun, and sat down on the ground [96] before the
house. The Malaki Tuangun was a great brass-smith: he made katakia
and other objects of brass, and hence was called the Malaki Tuangun
Katakia. As soon as he heard the other malaki call from outside,
"May I come up into your house?" he sent down eight of his slaves to
look and see who wanted to visit him.
And the eight slaves brought word to their master that the Malaki
Dugdag Lobis Maginsulu waited to enter.
Then the Malaki Tuangun Katakia called to his visitor, "Come up,
if you can keep from bringing on a fight, because there are many
showers in my town." [97]
Then the other malaki went up the steps into the house, and the
Malaki Tuangun said to him, "You shall have a good place to sit in
my house,--a place where nobody ever sat before."
Then the Malaki Tuangun prepared a betel-nut for his guest. But the
Malaki Dugdag Lobis Maginsulu would not take the betel-nut from
him. So the Malaki Tuangun called his sister, who was called Bia
Tuangun Katakia, and said to her, "You go outside and prepare a
betel-nut for the Malaki."
As soon as the Bia had finished preparing the betel, she took the
(screaming?) katakia from the Malaki, and set it on the floor. Then the
Malaki Dugdag Lobis Maginsulu took the betel-nut from the lady. When
he had finished chewing it, he stood up and went to the place where the
Bia Tuangun Katakia was sitting, and he lay down beside her, and said,
"Come, put away your work, and comb my hair."
"No, I don't like to comb your hair," she replied.
The Malaki was displeased at this retort, so at last the woman agreed
to comb his hair, for she did not want to see the Malaki angry. By
and by the Malaki felt sleepy while his hair was being combed; and
he said to the Bia, "Do not wake me up."
He fell asleep, and did not waken until the next day. Then he married
the Bia Tuangun Katakia.
After they had been married for three months, the Bia said to the
Malaki, "The best man I know is the Manigthum. He was my first
husband."
But the Manigthum had left home, and had gone off to do some big
fighting. He killed the Malaki Taglapida Pabungan, [98] and he killed
the Malaki Lindig Ramut ka Langit. [99]
After the Manigthum had slain these great men, he came back to the
home of his wife. When he came near the house he saw, lying down
on the ground under the kinarum-tree, [100] the things that he had
given his wife before he went away,--pendants of pearl, bracelets
and leglets of brass, gold necklaces (kamagi [101]), hair-ornaments
of dyed goats'-hair and birds'-down, finger-rings, and leg-bands of
twisted wire hung with bells. As he looked at the beautiful ornaments
all thrown on the ground, he heard the voice of the Malaki Dugdag Lobis
Manginsulu calling to him, "Do not come up, because your wife is mine."
Then the two malaki went to fighting with sword and spear. After a
sharp fight, the Manigthum was killed, and the Malaki Dugdag Lobis
Maginsulu had the Bia for his wife.
The Malaki's Sister and the Basolo
There is a certain mountain that has a sharp, long crest like a
kampilan. Up on this mountain stretched many fields of hemp, and
groves of cocoanut-palms, that belonged to the Malaki and his sister.
Near to these hemp-fields lived the Basolo-man, under a tall
barayung-tree. His little house was full of venison and pig-meat and
lard, and he kept a dog to hunt pigs and deer. Although his hut looked
small and poor, the Basolo possessed treasures of brass and beads
and fine textiles. He had a kabir, [102] from which darted forked
lightning; and in the bag was a betel-box and a necklace of pure gold.
One day when the Malaki's sister went to look at her hemp, she felt
curious to go inside the Basolo's house. The Basolo was lying on the
floor, fast asleep, when the woman entered. She looked at the things
in the house, and saw hanging on the wall the Basolo's bag with the
lightning playing on it. Now the bag was an old one, and had a lot
of mud in it; but the woman thought it must be full of gold, because
the lightning never ceased to flash from it. So she crept across the
floor, and took the bag from off the end of the bamboo slat on which
it hung. Still the Basolo slept, and still the lightning continued
to play upon the bag. The woman looked inside the bag and saw a fine
gold betel-box, and when she lifted the lid, there in the box lay
a necklace of pure gold. Swiftly she closed the box, and stealthily
drew it out of the bag. Into the folds of her hemp skirt she slipped
the precious box with the gold necklace inside, and very quietly ran
down the bamboo ladder at the house-door.
When she got home, her brother smiled, and said to her, "What has
happened to you, my sister?"
Bright flashes of lightning seemed to be coming from the girl. She
looked almost as if she were made of gold, and the lightning could not
escape from her. Then she took out the betel-box and the necklace,
and showed them to her brother, saying that she had found them in
the Basolo's hut.
The Basolo awoke, and found his brass katakia and his fine necklace
gone.
"Who has been here?" he cried.
In a frenzy he hunted through his kabir, throwing out of it his old
work-knife and his rusty spear-head and all the poor things that he
kept in his bag. Then he began to moan and weep for his betel-box
and gold necklace.
By and by he started out to find his lost things. In the soft soil
close to the house, he found the footprints of the woman; and,
following the prints, he traced her to the Malaki's house. Right
there the footprints ended. The Basolo stood at the foot of the steps,
and called, "Who has been in my house?"
Then he ran up the ladder and rushed into the house, screaming to
the Malaki's sister, "Give me back my gold necklace! If you don't
give it back, I'll marry you."
Quick came the woman's answer, "I don't like you, and I will not
marry you."
But her brother was angry because she refused to marry the Basolo. At
last she agreed to the match, and said to the Basolo, "Yes, I will
marry you; but I can't let you live in my house. You must stay in
your own house over yonder."
So the Basolo and the Malaki's sister agreed to meet and try [103]
each other (talabana). Then the Basolo went home.
Not long after this, there came a day when many men went out to hunt
the wild pig and the deer. And from her house the woman heard the
sound of many men gathering in the meadow. There were Malaki T'oluk
Waig and other malaki, who were there ready for the chase. And the
girl thought, "I will go out and see the men."
Immediately she hurried to dress herself carefully. She put on nine
waists one over another, and similarly nine skirts (panapisan);
and then she girded herself with a chain of brass links that went a
thousand times round her waist. Over her left shoulder she hung her
small beaded basket (kambol) that was decorated with row upon row of
little tinkling bells, a million in all, and each bell as round as
a pea.
But the Basolo knew that the girl was dressing to go out, and he
was angry that she should want to go where there were so many men
gathered. In order to keep watch on her movements, he climbed up
into a hiding-place behind the great leaves of an areca-palm, [104]
and waited. Presently he saw the woman walking to the meadow. And she
staid there just one night. But the Malaki was alarmed when he found
that his sister had gone out to see the men. And after he had taken
off his clothes, he began to put them on again to follow his sister.
Then, when the girl's brother and all the other malaki had assembled in
the meadow, the Basolo came down from the tree and went home. When he
got into his house, he took off his coat, and became a Malaki T'oluk
Waig. His body shone like the sun (you could hardly look at him),
and all his garments were of gold. He had on nine jackets, one over
another, and nine pairs of trousers. Then he called for his horse,
whose name was Kambeng Diluk; [105] and Kambeng neighed into the air,
and waited, prancing, before the house. Soon the Malaki T'oluk Waig
mounted his horse, and sitting on a saddle of mirrored glass, he rode
toward the meadow. Then Kambeng Diluk began to run, just like the wind.
When they reached the meadow, there were many people there. The
Malaki's wife was sitting on the grass, with men grouped around her,
and she was laughing with them. But she did not recognize her husband
when he came riding up. After everybody had arrived, they set fire
to the long grass, and burned off the meadow, so as to bring the wild
pigs and the deer out of ambush. Then many men entered the chase and
ran their horses; but none could catch the deer or the wild boar,
except only the great Malaki, who had been the Basolo: he alone
speared much game.
When the burning of the meadow and the hunt were finished, many
men wanted to marry the Malaki T'oluk Waig's wife, and many of
them embraced her. But the Malaki T'oluk Waig stood up, fierce with
passion. His body was almost like a flame to look at. And he fought
the other malaki, and killed many, until at last all were dead but one,
and that was the woman's brother.
When all was done, the Malaki mounted his horse and rode back to his
home. His house was all of gold, and yet it looked just like a mean
little hut nestled under the barayung-tree. Then the Malaki picked up
his coat and put it on: at once he became a Basolo again. He then went
over to the woman's house and waited there for her to come back. By
and by she came loitering along, crying all the way, because she was
afraid to meet her husband. But the Basolo staid right along in the
house, and lived with the woman and her brother. Then, after they had
tried each other, they were married with Bagobo ceremony. The Basolo
took off his coat, and again became a Malaki T'oluk Waig. They lived
well in their house, and they had a big hacienda of hemp and cocoanuts
and banana-plants.
The Mona [106]
When the Mona lived on the earth, there was a certain man who said
to his wife, "I want to go out and make some traps."
So that day he went out and made about thirty traps, of sticks with
nooses attached, to snare jungle-fowl. His work finished, he returned
home. Next day he went out to look at his traps, but found that he had
caught, not a wild chicken, but a big lizard (palas [107]) with pretty
figured patterns on its back. The man said to the lizard, "Halloo!"
Then he released the lizard, and gave him his own carrying-bag and
work-knife, and told him to go straight to his house. But the lizard
was afraid to go to the man's house, for he suspected that the man
wanted to make a meal of him. Instead, he ran up a tree, taking with
him the knife and the bag. The tree overhung a clear brook, and the
lizard could see his reflection (alung) in the water.
No fowl could the man snare that day, and he went home. As soon as
he reached the house, he said to his wife, "Are you all done cleaning
that lizard?"
"What lizard are you talking about?" returned the woman. "There's no
lizard here."
"I sent one here," insisted the man, "and I'm hungry."
"We have no lizard," repeated his wife.
In a hot temper the man went back to his traps, and there saw the
tracks of the lizard, leading, not towards his house, but exactly
in the opposite direction. Following the tracks, he reached the
brook, and at once caught sight of the lizard's reflection in the
water. Immediately the man jumped into the water, grasping for the
image of the slippery lizard; but he had to jump out again with empty
hands. He tried again. Hour after hour he kept on jumping, until he
got so wet and cold that he had to give it up and go home.
"The lizard is right over there in the brook," he told his wife;
"but I could not get hold of him."
"I'll go and look at him with you," she said.
So together they reached the brook; and the woman glanced first into
the water, and then up into the tree.
"You foolish man," she smiled. "Look in the tree for your
lizard. That's just his shadow (alung [109]) in the water."
The man looked up, and saw the lizard in the tree. Then he started
to climb up the trunk, but found himself so chilled and stiff from
jumping into the water, that he kept slipping down whenever he tried
to climb. Then the woman took her turn, and got part way up the
tree. The man looked up at his wife, and noticed that she had sores
on parts of her body where she could not see them, and he called to
her, "Come down! don't climb any higher; you've got sores." So she
climbed down.
Then her husband wanted to get some medicine out of his bag to give
her for the sores; but the lizard had his bag.
"Throw down my bag and knife to me!" he shouted up to the lizard,
"because I must get busy about fixing medicine for my wife." And the
lizard threw down to him his knife and his bag.
As soon as they got home, the man made some medicine for his wife;
but the sores did not heal. Then he went to his friend Tuglay and said,
"What is the medicine for my wife?"
Tuglay went home with the man; and when they reached the house,
he told him what he was about to do. "Look!" said the Tuglay.
Then the man looked, and saw the Tuglay go to his wife and consort
with her.
And the husband let him do it, for he said to himself, "That is the
medicine for my wife."
When the Tuglay was done with the woman, he said, "Go now to your
wife."