A Uña De Caballo (1923)

            “Well,” he began, “ I know you do not fear the tulisanes (bandits) or the highwaymen. But the binangunan, tikbalang, matandas, and kapres, these are something else. With them your ‘repober’ won’t be of any use.”

            “But sir, those are rubbish that even one who is not that well educated no longer believes in.”

            “Yes, those who wear the vest, the Panama hat, and silver watch and other stuff… To hell with the educated ones!”

            And he was so disconcerted at the young man’s vehemence that the latter became a little frightened and sort of regretted his flippance.

            “That’s a joke, sir, you can’t imagine how much I enjoy knowing the history of those whom you are sure would fill me with terror and on whom my ‘repober’ wouldn’t be any good. And I shall not leave until you have told me those wonderful tales reserved for your special friends. Will you tell them to me?

            “Yes, of course, my son.”

            And so the old man began to narrate the exploits and prowess of his heroes. Our young man was all ears, for even if he did not believe them, he considered them enchanting for peasants tell their tales with that indescribable charm, free from circumlocution and twists. And he thought that they were the most delightful and enjoyable stories that he had ever heard until then.

            This is what the old man related to him:

            “When I was a boy, my mother told me that there were very beautiful maidens, with their bodies bare and their hair in disarray who lived in places hardly, if ever, frequented by man. Whoever, passed there, man or woman, worse if he was a man, was never spared by them. They never let go of him, overwhelmed him with caresses, kissed him and left him dead without his being able to fulfill his intentions if he had them at all; for, they kissed him in such a way that they sucked his blood, and immediately the man dies. Thus, they were named binangunan (suckers, a species of vampires).

            “What I’m  about to tell you, I experienced myself not more than twenty one years ago,” he continued. “I was going to a nearby place. And to go there, there was only one pathway between shrubs. how could anyone get lost there? But listen, I went on my way and on and on but never reached my destination. Damn it! I told myself it must have been some naughty tianak playing tricks on me. And no matter how much and how well I looked, I saw no one, I walked on. Damn it! I had scarcely  taken three steps when I began to hear boisterous laughter. That enraged me and I looked and looked with these sharp eyes to see if I could find him and at a distance, I saw a small child about a handbreadth’s height who laughed with all its might.

            “After locating him, I felt sure I’d be able to trap him, but I only got hold of a piece of charcoal as big as a cucumber and farther away, the same child kept on laughing at me.

            “Trying to figure what to do, I decided to remove my shirt and put it on again but inside out. As soon as I did this, I got to the place right away.”

Epifanio C. de los Santos

The Independent

Manila

February 10, 1923

Translated to English by Pilar E. Mariño

Link to Spanish Version

El Hombre Que No Sabía Llorar (1939)

One time when he was twenty years old, while studying for his Bachelor’s degree at the Ateneo, Silvio came across a book of poetry in English entitled First Leaves , by Rafael Zulueta de Costa, a young professor of De La Salle College.

One of the poems began: “Tired of myself, one day I made a child sob … He did not cry; only men cry… ask the night. But from this child’s heavy eyes the tears gushed…”

Incredulous, Silvio read and re-read those lines, but he never comprehended them. It must have been a printing error, he said to himself. Some editors are stupid at times. He would have wanted to say: “… only women cry…”

In one of the gospels of the seven o’clock Sunday masses at San Beda Church, he heard the priest say: “Blessed are those who weep, because for them is the Kingdom of the heaven.” As if he had not heard. Silvio said to himself; “These words are incomprehensible to me. Heaven is not gained by tears. Only the strong of heart enter it.”

And the months and years passed. Life that is so good showered Silvio with so many problems, disillusionment, and humiliation. But even when he was grieved, he did not cry. His friends saw him crestfallen, but his eyes were always serene and clear. Tears, your name is woman… and weakness.

As if is the fate of all man, sons of Adam, Silvio fell ill and died.

And nobody cried. He had friends are relatives who liked and appreciated him, but no one cried. It was not that they did not want to. Others even made superhuman efforts to do so… always one cries for a departed friend … but they could not cry for Silvio, because Silvio never cried for anyone.

And how many Silvios are there in this world who do not cry, that have never cried, that do not want to cry?

During the burial of Silvio an old woman was heard mumbling: “Those who cannot or do not want to cry, have mercy on them, Lord.”

Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero

Sabatino de la Vanguardia

Manila

February 25, 1939

Translated to English by Pilar E. Mariño


Link to Spanish Version

Combate del Tirad (1899)

December 2. At dawn we saw the enemy climbing the slope and moments later the firing began in the first entrenchment, which was under Lieutenant Braullo. At around nine in the morning two Igorots climbed to the peak and told the general that the Americans had suffered losses at the first entrenchment and could not advance. Heartened by the news, the general decide that were to descend in his company and take part in the combat.

This we did and an hour later found ourselves where nine soldiers were defending the left flank of the mountain in the second entrenchment. Hardly had we got there when we saw the Americans climbing up, only fifteen meters away, whereupon the soldiers started firing again.

The general could not see the enemy because of the cogon grass and he ordered a halt to the firing. At that moment I was handing him a carbine and warning him that the Americans were directing their fire at him and that he should crouch down because his life was in danger --- and at that moment he was hit by a bullet in the neck that caused instant death.

I myself was also hit by a bullet in the hat that caused me no damage. On seeing that the general was dead, the soldiers jumped up as if to flee but I aimed the carbine at them saying I would blow the brains off the skull of the first to run whereupon they resumed firing while the body of the general was being removed to the next trench.

The Military Journal of Telésforo Carrasco y Pérez

December 2, 1899

Translated by Nick Joaquin

Link to Spanish Version

El Panangyatang Y El Caiman (1887)

Morga and Fr. Colin said that the Filipinos, at the time of conquest by the Spaniards, worshipped the caiman (crocodile) whom they called nono. To protect themselves from its harm, the Filipinos would always give it something they had in the boat. The fishermen threw their first catch to the crocodile. This practice exists to this day in Ilocos, and according to the Catecismo Ilocano of Fr. López (who was in Ilocos at the beginning of the 17th century) it is called panangyatang. But this was not practiced in other provinces. Probably Fr. Colin was mistaken when he stated that the Filipinos called the crocodile nono because this is a Tagalog word meaning grandfather and ghost. Both Ilocanos and Tagalogs call the crocodile buaya. This seems correct for in some places in the Philippines where there are crocodiles, the people throw rice and other objects like rocks of distinctive shapes so that their trips will be safe.

Isabelo de los Reyes

El Folk-Lore Filipino

1887

English Translation by Salud C. Dizon


Link to Spanish Version

Comodón y Pamplinosa (1964)

  One warm afternoon, the carabao breathlessly told the cow, “How thirsty I am! I have been dragging this rake for the last three hours. My legs can no longer carry me.”

   “Why don’t we lie down? Perhaps the master will take pity on us,” answered the cow.

   “And what if he beats us?” retorted the carabao.

   “Either is preferable, my friend. I can’t go on any longer. Help me…” At that moment, Pamplinosa the cow fell to the ground exhausted. The carabao could have continued, but out of friendship, he, too, fell to the ground. Their master then began to shout while beating them furiously.

   “”Get up layabouts! You want to rest after only three hours’ work? Take that! That will teach you!”

   Because of this, the cow, in the midst of her suffering, complained, “I can’t take it anymore. We are old and we have worked for you for as long as we could. In old age, one needs to rest. It is only right that you let us rest,”

   The master stopped beating them, taken aback by the insolence of his animals’ words. ”So! What are you saying? That you will eat the grass I feed to my useful animals and not serve me?”

   “It is not our fault that we are old,” the carabao dared to answer.

   The master stopped to think for a minute, but because he was a miser, he answered, “Yes of course, it’s not your fault, but neither is it mine. Why should I be the one to pay and have to feed two animals that are no use to me?”

   The two animals didn’t answer, but thought that with a bit of good will on part of their master, they might be able to continue living on the farm without having to work.

   The master unhitched them from the plow, and once they were free, told them, “Very well, if you cannot do anything for me, neither can you expect me to look after you. Do what you wish, as long as it is not on my land. Leave and don’t ever come back.”

Adelina Gurrea

Comodón y Pamplinosa (Unpublished)

Submitted to the Publisher Doncel in 1964

English Translation by Beatriz Álvarez Tardío


Link to Spanish Version

El Hijo (1936)

            Galindo became another man. He left his son  to hired help, dragged himself in all corners of the house; flabby, weak, dirty, and ragged. Meanwhile, the great man made his life a misery, giving himself excessively to loose women and alcohol.

            One night sleeping away one of his alcoholic perturbations, he had a desolate dream. It was Susana, bending over the crib of the bay, embracing him, and covering him on her bosom, and quietly taking him through the closed doors….

            He stopped her ---“Where are you going? Where are you taking the child? What are you doing woman?”…

            She looked at him bitterly and her cruel words fell like the blows of a hammer on the temple of the dreamer.

            “You have converted love into hate and you are not worthy of perpetuating yourself among men. I am taking our son, because all mothers, at death, should do the same. Remain in the lies of your pleasures and intoxication. The truth is I am,  and I am taking the angel with me…”

            Galindo woke up aghast. He jumped from the bed and ran toward the next room where the child was sleeping.

            He picked up the boy in his arms; he shook the boy’s head, pulling him strongly against his breast. The child was dead.

Jesús Balmori

Excelsior, Manila

October 1936


Link to Spanish Version

Causes of the Revolution (1912)

221. Causes of the Revolution. The covert exertions and active propaganda of the secret societies, the discontent of some and the ambition of others, had been paving the way, though with the utmost secrecy, for the revolution on 1896.  The Katipunan, founded by Andrés Bonifacio, was the focus of the revolutionary tendencies. There was a “ blood compact,” which consisted in signing one’s name with one’s blood in order to inscribe one’s self as a member of the League or Katipunan.

            Many caught at the presence of the friars as a pretext. But the abuses and faults charged against them, their despotic theocratic rule, and their vast landholding were merely idle reasons for speaking ill of them. For, first of all, the failings of a few should not be visited upon the majority, which was sound and vigorous in fulfilling its duties. Secondly, there were other classes of society undeniably corrupt, yet no fault was found with them. Thirdly, those who threw the stone were far from ^being guiltless fo the crimes they imputed to the friars. Fourthly, their estates were honestly acquired, as was acknowledged by two governments as different as the American and the Spanish. Fifthly, the people’s hatred of the friars was a fiction not a reality. Certain writers and some other persons were declaiming it daily in strident tones, and in consequence dislike of the friars was engendered in some districts.

José Burniol, S.J.

A History of the Philippines (June 1912)

Ateneo de Manila

English Translation by Thomas Becker, S.J.


Link to Spanish Version