LESSON 1

INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE & LITERARY GENRES

TOPICS
1. Literature
2. Prose
3. Poetry

LEARNING OUTCOMES
At the end of the lesson, students should be able to:
1. Describe literature;
2. Identify literary compositions that we have influenced the world; and
3. Distinguish the different literary genres. compositions that we have
influenced the worldConstruct your own short story or fable.

https://www.english-culture.com/the-nature-and-essence-of-literature/

TOPIC 1: LITERATURE
THE NATURE AND ESSENCE OF LITERATURE

WHAT IS LITERATURE?
Definition of Literature: The word literature is derived from the Latin term litera which
means letter. It has been defined differently by various writers. Some loosely interpret literature as
any printed matter written within a book, a magazine or a pamphlet. Others define literature as a
faithful reproduction of man’s manifold experiences blended into one harmonious expression.
Because literature deals with ideas, thoughts and emotions of man, literature can be said to be the
story of man. Man’s loves, griefs, thoughts, dreams and aspirations coached in beautiful language is
literature.
In order to know the history of a nation’s spirit, one must read its literature. Hence it is, that
to understand the real spirit of a nation, one must “trace the little rills as they course along down the
ages, broadening and deepening into the great ocean of thought which men of the present source
are presently exploring.” Brother Azurin, said that “literature expresses the feelings of people to
society, to the government, to his surroundings, to his fellowmen and to his Divine Creator.” The
expression of one’s feelings, according to him, may be through love, sorrow, happiness, hatred,
anger, pity, contempt, or revenge.
For Webster, literature is anything that is printed, as long as it is related to the ideas and
feelings of people, whether it is true, or just a product of one’s imagination. In PANITIKING PILIPINO
written by Atienza, Ramos, Salazar and Nazal, it says that “true literature is a piece of written work
which is undying. It expresses the feelings and emotions of people in response to his everyday efforts
to live, to be happy n his environment and, after struggles, to reach his Creator.”
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 Why We Need to Study Philippine Literature We can enumerate many reasons for studying
literature. Here are but a few: We study literature so that we can better appreciate our literary
heritage. We cannot appreciate something that we do not understand. Through a study of our
literature, we can trace the rich heritage of ideas handed down to us from our forefathers. Then we
can understand ourselves better and take pride in being a Filipino.
Like other races of the world, we need to understand that we have a great and noble
tradition which can serve as the means to assimilate other cultures. Through such a study, we will
realize our literary limitations conditioned by certain historical factors and we can take steps to
overcome them. Above all, as Filipinos, who truly love and take pride in our own culture, we have to
manifest our deep concern for our own literature and this we can do by studying the literature of our
country.
Of Philippine Literature in English and Time Frames It can be said that Philippine literature in
English has achieved a stature that is, in a way, phenomenal since the inception of English in our
culture. Our written literature, which is about four hundred years old, is one of slow and evolutionary
growth. Our writers strove to express their sentiments while struggling with a foreign medium. The
great mass of literature in English that we have today is, indeed, a tribute to what our writers have
achieved in the short span of time. What they have written can compare with some of the best
works in the world.
Much is still to be achieved. Our writers have yet to write their OPUS MAGNUMS.
Meanwhile, history and literature are slowly unfolding before us and we are as witnesses in the
assembly lines to an evolving literary life. Time frames may not be necessary in a study of literature,
but since literature and history are inescapably related it has become facilitative to map up a system
which will aid us in delineating certain time boundaries.
These time boundaries are not exactly well- defined; very often, time frames blend into
another in a seeming continuum. For a systematic discussion of the traditions, customs, and feelings
of our people that can be traced in our literature, we shall adopt certain delimitations. These time
frames are: Time Frames of Philippine Literature in English Different opinions prevail regarding the
stages that mark the development of Philippine literature in English. Let us take the following time
frames for purpose of discussion:

1. The Period of Re-orientation: 1898-1910 6. Period of Activism: 1970-1972

2. Period of Imitation: 1910-1925 7. Period of the New Society: 1972-1981

3. Period of Self-Discovery: 1925-1941 8. Period of the Third Republic: 1981-1985

4. Japanese Period: 1941-1945 9. Contemporary Period: 1986

5. The Rebirth of Freedom: 1946-1970

Literature and history are closely interrelated. In discovering the history of a race, the feelings,
aspirations, customs and traditions of a people are sure to be included... and these feelings,
aspirations, customs and traditions that are written is literature. History can also be written and this
too, is literature. Events that can be written down are part of true literature. Literature, therefore, is
part of history.

Literature and history, however, also have differences. Literature may be figments of the
imagination or events devoid of truth that have been written down, while history is made up of
events that really happened. Literary Compositions that have influenced the world. Among them are:

1. The Bible or the Sacred Writings 7. The Divine Comedy

2. Koran

3. The Iliad and the Odyssey 8. El Cid Compeador

4. The Mahab-harata 9. The Song of Roland

5. Canterbury Tales 10. The Book of the Dead

6. Uncle Tom’s Cabin 11. The Book of the Days

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 12. One Thousand and One Nights
or The Arabian Nights

Task/Activity
Read at least (3) three of the world’s Short Answer Rubrics:
literary compositions and discuss briefly how CRITERIA Percentag
they have influenced the world. e
Correct Answer with 50%
Supporting Details
Grammar & Mechanics 50%
100%

GENERAL TYPES OF LITERATURE

Literature can generally be divided into two types; prose and poetry.
PROSE consists of those written within the common flow of conversation in sentences and
paragraphs, while POETRY refers to those expressions in verse, with measure and rhyme, line and
stanza and has a more melodious tone.

TOPIC 2: PROSE
TYPES OF PROSE

a. Novels – A long narrative divided into chapters and events are taken from true-to-life stories.
Example: WITHOUT SEEING THE DAWN by Stevan Javellana
b. Short story – This is a narrative involving one or more characters, one plot and one single
impression. Example: THE LAUGHTER OF MY FATHER by Carlos Bulosan
c. Plays – This is presented on a stage, is divided into acts and each act has many scenes.
Example: THIRTEEN PLAYS by Wilfredo M. Guerrero

d. Legends – These are fictitious narratives, usually about origins. Example: THE BIKOL LEGEND by
Pio Duran

e. Fables – These are also fictitious and they deal with animals and inanimate things who speak and
act like people and their purpose is to enlighten the minds of children to events that can mold
their ways and attitudes. Example: THE MONKEY AND THE TURTLE

f. Anecdotes – These are merely products of the writer’s imagination and the main aim is to bring
out lessons to the reader. Example: THE MOTH AND THE LAMP

g. Essay – This expresses the viewpoint or opinion of the writer about a particular problem or
event. The best example of this is the Editorial page of a newspaper.

h. Biography – This deal with the life of a person which may be about himself, his autobiography or
that of others. Example: CAYETANO ARELLANO by Socorro O. Albert

i. News – This is a report of everyday events in society, government, science and industry, and
accidents, happening nationally or not.
j. Oration – This is a formal treatment of a subject and is intended to be spoken in public. It
appeals to the intellect, to the will or to the emotions of the audience.

Task/Activity Short Story Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage
Writing Task/ Understanding
*From the types of prose, pick one example
of Purpose & Audience 30%
and discuss briefly in your own words the
Organizational Structure
lessons you have learned from it.
Use of Plot/ Use of Narrative 30%
(Example: Fable- The Monkey and the Turtle)
Strategies
Language & Flow 40%
Grammar & Mechanics
100%
TOPIC 3: POETRY 3
THREE TYPES OF POETRY
1. NARRATIVE POETRY – This form describes important events in life either real or
imaginary. The different varieties are:
A. Epic- This is an extended narrative about heroic exploits often under supernatural
control. Example: THE HARVEST SONG OF ALIGUYON translated in English by Amador T.
Daguio
B. Metrical Tale- This is a narrative which is written in verse and can be classified either as
a ballad or a metrical romance. Examples: BAYANI NG BUKID by Al Perez HERO OF THE
FIELDS by Al Perez
C. Ballads- Of the narrative poems, this is considered the shortest and simplest. It has a
simple structure and tells of a single incident. There are also variations of these: love
ballads, war ballads, and sea ballads, humorous, moral, and historical or mythical
ballads. In the early time, this referred to a song accompanying a dance.
2. LYRIC POETRY – Originally, this refers to that kind of poetry meant to be sung to the
accompaniment of a lyre, but now, this applies to any type of poetry that expresses
emotions and feelings of the poet. They are usually short, simple and easy to understand.
A. Folksongs (Awiting Bayan) – These are short poems intended to be sung. The common
theme is love, despair, grief, doubt, joy, hope and sorrow. Example: CHIT-CHIRIT-CHIT
B. Sonnets – This is a lyric poem of 14 lines dealing with an emotion, a feeling, or an idea.
There are two types: the Italian and the Shakespearean. Example: SANTANG BUDS by
Alfonso P. Santos
C. Elegy – This is a lyric poem which expresses feelings of grief and melancholy, and whose
theme is death. Example: THE LOVER’S DEATH by Ricardo Demetillo
D. Ode – This is a poem of a noble feeling, expressed with dignity, with no definite number of
syllables or definite number of lines in a stanza.
E. Psalms (Dalit) – This is a song praising God or the Virgin Mary and containing a philosophy of
life.
F. Awit (Song) – These have measures of twelve syllables (dodecasyllabic) and slowly sung to
the accompaniment of a guitar or banduria. Example: FLORANTE AT LAURA by Franciso
Balagtas
G. Corridos (Kuridos) – These have measures of eight syllables (octosyllabic) and recited to a
martial beat. Example: IBONG ADARNA
3. DRAMATIC POETRY
A. Comedy. The word comedy comes from the Greek term “komos” meaning festivity or
revelry. This form usually is light and written with the purpose of amusing, and usually has
a happy ending.
B. Melodrama. This is usually used in musical plays with the opera. Today, this is related to
tragedy just as the farce is to comedy. It arouses immediate and intense emotion and is
usually sad but there is a happy ending for the principal character.
C. Tragedy. This involves the hero struggling mightily against dynamic forces; he meets death
or ruin without success and satisfaction obtained by the protagonist in a comedy.
D. Farce. This is an exaggerated comedy. It seeks to arouse mirth by laughable lines;
situations are too ridiculous to be true; the characters seem to be caricatures and the
motives undignified and absurd.
E. Social Poems. This form is either purely comic or tragic and it pictures the life of today. It
may aim to bring about changes in the social conditions.

Task/Activity
Informal Essay Rubric
CRITERIA Percentage
*Compare and contrast the three Quality of Writing 50%
types of poetry. Explain briefly. Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
100%

ASSESSMENT

1. Construct your own short story or fable.

2. Create your own spoken poetry.
3. Differentiate the three types of poetry.
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 Short Story Rubric
CRITERIA Percentage
Writing Task/ Understanding of Purpose & Audience/
Organizational Structure 30%
Use of Plot /Use of Narrative Strategies 30%
Language & Flow/ Grammar & Mechanics 40%
100%

Poetry Writing Rubric Short Answer Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage CRITERIA Percentage
Cohesive Correct Answer with 50%
Use of Poetic Elements 40% Supporting Details
Rhythm 30% Grammar & Mechanics 50%
Creativity 30% 100%
100%

LESSON 2
HISTORICAL BACKGROUND OF THE PHILIPPINE LITERATURE

TOPICS
1. The Pre-Spanish Period
2. The Spanish Period
3. The Enlightenment Period
4. The American Regime
5. The Japanese Period
6. The Rebirth of Freedom
7. The Period of Activism
8. The Period of the New Society
9. The Period of the Third Republic
10. The Contemporary Period

LEARNING OUTCOMES
At the end of the lesson, you should be able to:

1. Explore the kinds of literature our ancestors had long before

invaders came;
2. Discuss the Spanish influences in Philippine Literature;
3. Describe the condition of Philippine literature during the Spanish
Era;
4. Trace down the Historical Background that heightened the literature
of the Enlightenment Period;
5. Argue how Philippine Literature changed from religious to
nationalistic tone;
6. Figure out the depth of the literary works of the authors during the
American period;
7. Pinpoint how the Filipino Literature flourished during the Japanese
Period;
8. Deliberate on how Filipinos fostered literature after regaining their
freedom;
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9. Scrutinize how the writers expressed their sentiments in the
Activism Period;
10. Clarify the reason of renewing and reviving literature during the
 TOPIC 1: THE PRE-SPANISH PERIOD

Long time before the Spaniards and other foreigners landed on Philippine shores, our
forefathers already had their own literature stamped in the history of our race. Our ancient
literature shows our customs and traditions in everyday life as traced in our folk stories, old plays
and short stories. Our ancient ancestors also had their own alphabet which was different from that
brought by the Spaniards. The first alphabet used by our ancestors was similar to that of the Malayo-
Polynesian alphabet. Whatever records our ancestors left were either burned by the Spaniards friars
in the belief that they were works of the devil or were written on materials that easily perished, like
the barks of trees, dried leaves and bamboo cylinders which could not have remained undestroyed
even if efforts were made to preserve them. Other records that remained showed folk songs that
proved the existence of a native culture truly our own. Some of these were passed on by word of
mouth till they reached the hands of some publishers or printers who took interest in printing the
manuscripts of the ancient Filipinos. The Spaniards who came to the Philippines tried to prove that
our ancestors were really fond of poetry, songs, stories, riddles and proverbs which we still enjoy
today and which serve to show to generations the true culture of our people.

The Pre-Spanish Literature is characterized by:

 LEGENDS are forms of prose, the common theme of which is about the origin of a thing, place,
location or a name. The events are imaginary, devoid of truth and unbelievable. Its aim is to
entertain.
 FOLK TALES are made up of stories about life, adventure, love, horror and humor where one can
derive lessons about life. These are useful to us because they help us appreciate our
environment, evaluate our personalities and improve our perspectives in life.
 EPIC are long narrative poems in which a series of heroic achievements or events, usually of a
hero, are dealt with at length. Nobody can determine which epics are the oldest because in their
translations from other languages, even in English and Spanish.
Aside from the aforementioned epics, there are still other epics that can be read and studied like
the following epics:
A. Bidasari – Moro Epic G. Kumintang – Tagalog Epic
B. Biag ni Lam-ang – Ilokano Epic H. Parang Sabir – Moro Epic
C. Maragtas – Visayan Epic I. “Dagoy” at “Sudsod – Tagbanua Epic
D. Haraya – Visayan Epic J. Tatuaang – Bagobo Epic
E. Lagda – Visayan Epic K. Indarapatra at Sulayman
F. Hari sa Bukid – Visayan Epic

 FOLK SONGS are one of the oldest forms of Philippine literature that emerged In the Pre-Spanish
period. These songs mirrored the early forms of culture. Many of these have 12 syllables.
Examples:
KUNDIMAN
(Awit ng Pag-ibig – Songs of Love)

Noong unang panahon nung ako ay bata pa,

Natisod mo na ay di pa alintana,
Nang ako ay lumaki at maging dalaga,

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 Tila sa Wari ko y may pagbabanta pa.

Pagsinta mo sa akin ay di ko tatanggapin

Pagka’t akong ito ay alangan sa tingin,
Ako ay mahirap, pangit pa sa tingin

 EPIGRAMS (Salawikain) these have been customarily used and served as laws or rules on good
behavior by our ancestors. To others, these are like allegories or parables that impart lessons for
the young.
Examples:
➢“May tainga ang lupa, may pakpak ang balita.”
➢“Kahit saang gubat, ay mayruong ahas.”
➢“Walang lumura sa langit na di sa kanyang mukha nagbalik.”
➢“Bago ka bumati ng sa ibang uling, uling mo muna ang iyong pahirin.”
➢“Ang umaayaw ay di nagwawagi, ang nagwawagi ay di umaayaw.”
➢"Although beauty may be skin deep, many have drowned there."

 RIDDLES (Bugtong or Palaisipan) these are made up of one or more measured lines with rhyme
and may consist of 4 to 12 syllabes.
Examples:
➢Hiyas na puso, kulay ginto, mabango kung amuyin, masarap kung kainin. (mangga)
➢ Nanganak ang birhen, itinapon ang lampin. (saging)
➢May langit, may lupa, May tubig, walang isda. (niyog)
➢Buhok ni Adan, hindi mabilang. (ulan)
➢ Nagsaing si Hudas, kinuha ang tubig itinapon ang bigas. (gata ng niyog)

Task/Activity
* Recall at least five riddles you heard during your childhood days.
*Enumerate at least five legends and five folk songs you can still remember.

TOPIC 2: THE SPANISH PERIOD

Spanish colonization of the Philippines started in 1565 during the time of Miguel Lopez de
Legazpi, the first Spanish governor-general in the Philippines. Literature started to flourish during his
time. The spurt continued unabated until the Cavite Revolt in 1872.

SPANISH INFLUENCES ON THE PHILIPPINE LITERATURE

1. ALIBATA
2. Christian Doctrine
3. Spanish language became the literary language this time
4. European legends and traditions
5. Ancient literature was collected and translated to Tagalog
6. Grammar books were printed in Filipino
7. Religious tone
THE FIRST BOOKS
1. Ang Doctrina Cristiana (The Christian Doctrine)
2. Nuestra Senora del Rosario
3. Libro de los Cuatro Postprimeras de Hombre
4. Ang Barlaan at Josephat
5. The Pasion
6. Urbana at Felisa
7. Ang mga Dalit kay Maria (Psalms for Mary)
LITERARY COMPOSITIONS
1. Arte y Reglas de la Lengua Tagala (Art and Rules of the Tagalog language)
2. Compendio de la Lengua Tagala (Understanding the Tagalog language)
3. Vocabulario de la Lengua Tagala (Tagalog vocabulary)
4. Vocabulario de la Lengua Pampanga (Pampango vocabulary)
5. Vocabulario de la Lengua Bisaya (Bisayan vocabulary)

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 6. Arte de la Lengua Ilokana (The Art of the Ilocano language)
7. Arte de la Lengua Bicolana (The Art of the Bicol Language)
FOLK SONGS
Example:
 Leron-Leron Sinta (Tagalog)  Sarong Banggi (Bicol)
 Pamulinawen (Iloko)  Atin Cu Pung Singsing (Kapampangan)
 Dandansoy (Bisaya)

RECREATIONAL PLAYS
There were many recreational plays performed by Filipinos during the Spanish times. Almost
all of them were in poetic form.
 CENAKULO a dramatic performance of the passion and death of Christ
 ZARZUELA is the so-called father of drama, a musical comedy or melodrama three acts which
death with men’s passion and emotions like love, hate, revenge, cruelty, avarice or some
political problem.
 LAGAYLAY a special occasion for the pilareños of sorsogon during maytime to get together
 TIBAG a dramatic performance for the purpose of manifesting devotion for the holy cross.
 PANULUYAN a Philippine Christmas dramatic ritual narrating the holy family’s search for a
place to stay in Bethlehem for Jesus Christ‘s birth through songs.
 SALUBONG dramatizes the reunion of the risen Christ and his mother.
 CARILLO is a form of dramatic entertainment performed on a moonless night during a town
fiesta or on dark nights after a harvest.
 SAINETE is a short musical comedy popular during the 18th century. They were exaggerated
comedy shown between acts plays and were mostly performed by characters from the lower
class.
 THE MORO-MORO like the Cenaculo, is presented also on a special stage. This is performed
during town fiestas to entertain the people and to remind them of their Christian religion.
Example: “Prinsipe Rodante”
 KARAGATAN is a poetic vehicle of a socio- religious nature celebrated during the death of a
person.
 DUPLO replaced the Karagatan. This is a poetic joust in speaking and reasoning.
 THE BALAGTASAN is a poetic joust or a contest of skills in debate on a particular topic or issue.
 THE DUNG-AW is a chant in free verse by a bereaved person or his representative beside the
corpse of the dead.

AWIT
 Is in dodecasyllabic verse and are fabricated stories from writers’ imagination although the
setting and characters are European
 Refers to chanting.
Example: Florante at Laura by Francisco Balagtas
CORRIDO
 Is in octosyllabic verse.
 Were usually on legends or stories from European countries like France, Spain, Italy and
Greece.
 Refers to narration. Example: Ibong Adarna by Jose de la Cruz

Task/Activity
*Compare and contrast the different
* Informal Essay Rubric
literary influences during the Spanish
CRITERIA Percentag
period. Discuss briefly.
e
Quality of Writing 50%
Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
100%
TOPIC 3: THE ENLIGHTENMENT PERIOD
Enlightenment is an 18th century intellectual movement in Western Europe that
emphasized reason and science in philosophy and in the study of human culture and the natural
world. In the Philippines, it mirrored the Filipinos’ desire for reforms Enlightenment PeriodThelma V.
Villaflores

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• Graciano Lopez – Jaena journalist, orator from Iloilopen name: Diego Laura wrote Fray Botod
when he was 18went to Spain in 1879 to flee the wrath of the Spanish friars died of tuberculosis
in Barcelona on January 20, 1896.
 La Solidaridad official newspaper of the Propaganda Movement aims: Philippines be a
province of Spain Representation in the Cortes Secularization of parishes Freedom of
assembly and speech. Equal rights before the law.
• Marcelo H. del Pilar A journalist, satirist, revolutionary leader, Illustrado editor of Diariong
Tagalog went to Spain in 1889 to flee from the Spanish friars and authorities died of tuberculosis
in Barcelona on July 4, 1896.
 Marcelo H. Del Pilar Father of Philippine Masonry Legacy Samahang Plaridel (a fellowship of
journalists and other communicators that aims to propagate Marcelo H. Del Pilar’s ideals.
 Macelo H. del Pilarpen names: Plaridel, Dolores Manapat, Piping Dilat, Pupdoh, Kupang,
SilingLabuyo, Maitalaga, L.O. Crame, Carmel

• Jose Rizal poet, essayist, diarist, correspondent, novelist pen names: LaongLaan, Dimasalang
Works: Noli me Tangere, El Filibusterismo.
• Antonio Luna general, doctor, pharmacist, journalist pen names: Tabing-Ilog works: La
Independencia (four-page daily newspaper).
• Mariano Ponce physician, writer pen names: Naning, Kalipulako, Tikbalang works: Efemeridas
Filipinas (1914) Documentos Filipinas (1916) La ProvinciaBulacan (1917) Wika at Lahi (1917).
• Pedro Paterno politician, poet, novelist, lawyer pen name: Justo Desiderio Magalang works:
Ninay (1885) – the first social novel in Spanish by a Filipino Sampaguitas y otras poesías varias
(Jasmines and OtherPoems).
• Jose Maria Panganiban doctor, journalist, orator pen name: Jomapa, J.M.P. works: Anatomia de
Regines Ang Lupang Tinubuan.

Task/Activity * Informal Essay Rubric

CRITERIA Percentag
*Compare and contrast the different Filipino e
writers. Discuss briefly. Quality of Writing 50%
Grammar, Usage & 50%
Mechanics
100%
TOPIC 4: THE AMERICAN REGIME
Characteristics of Literature during this Period

The writings were in Spanish, English and Tagalog

A. Literature in Spanish
The inspiration of the writers in here is Rizal not because of being his national leader
and but also about his two novels, the NOLI and FILI. Among them were:
1. Cecilio Amorsolo 5. Adelina Guerrera
2. Fernando Ma. Guerrero 6. Isidro Marpori
3. Jesus Balmori 7. Efipanio Delos Santos
4. Claro M. Recto 8. Pedro Aunario
B. Literature in Filipino
Florante at Laura by Francisco Balagtas and Urbana at Felisa by Modesto
Castrobecame the inspiration of the tagalong writers.
Julian Cruz Balmaceda classified three kinds of poets:
1. Poets of the Heart (Makata ng Puso)
2. Poets of Life (Makata ng Buhay)
3. Poets of the Stage (Makata ng Tanghalan)

C. Philippine literature in English

When the Americans came the literature is divided into three parts:
1. The Period of Re-Orientation
 August 13, 1898, English a sliterary vehicle came with he American occupation
 1990, the primary and intermediate grades were using English.
 Writers in this period were still adjusting to the newfound freedom after the paralyzing
effect of repression of thougth and speech under the Spanish.
 The first attempts in English were in two periodicals this time:
a. El Renacimiento founded in Manila by Rafael Palma in 1901

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 b. Philippines Free Press established in Manila in 1905 by R. McCullough Dick And D.
Theo Rogers
c. In 1907 Justo Juliano’s Sursum Corda which appeared in the Renacimiento was the
first work to be published in English. In 1909, Jan F. Salazar’s My Mother and his Air
Castles were also published in this paper.
2. The Period of Imitation
 By 1919, the UP-College folio published their literary composition of the first
Filipino writers in English.
3. The Period of Self-Discovery
 By this time the Filipino writers had acquired the mastery of the English language.
 They now confidently and completely wrote on a lot of subjects although the old-
time favorites of love and youth persisted. They went into all forms of writing like
drama and the novel.

Task/Activity

*Describe the different periods during the American regime. Explain briefly. The same criteria
for informal essay will be used.

TOPIC 5: JAPANESE PERIOD (1941-1945)

Between 1941-1945, Philippine Literature was interrupted in its development when we were
again conquered by another foreign country, Japan. Philippine literature in English came to a halt.
Except for the Tribune and the Philippine Review, Pillars, Free Philippines, and Filipina, almost all
newspapers in English were stopped by the Japanese.
During this time, there was no freedom of speech and of the press. Victoria Abelardo has
described Filipino writing during the Japanese occupation as being pessimistic and bitter. There were
some efforts at escapist literature, but in general, the literary output was minor and insignificant.
Because of strict censorship, few literary works were printed during the war years.
The weekly Liwayway was placed under strict surveillance until it was managed by a
Japanese named Ishiwara. The only contact with the outside world was done with utmost secrecy
through the underground radio program called “Voice of Freedom”.
Tagalog was favored by the Japanese military authority and writing in English was consigned
to a limbo. Japanese were able to influence and encourage the Filipino in developing the vernacular
literature. The only Filipino writers who could write freely were those who were living in the United
States. Most writers and authors were lead to either go underground or write in Tagalog.So, Filipino
literature was given a break during this period.
Filipino literature also experienced renewed attention because writers in English turned to
writing in Filipino. The drama experienced a lull during the Japanese period because movie houses
showing American films were closed. - The big movie houses were just made to show stage shows.
Many of the plays were reproductions of English plays to Tagalog. -The translators were Francisco
Soc Rodrigo, Alberto Concio, and Narciso Pimentel. -They also founded the organization of Filipino
players named.

A few of the playwriters were:

1. Jose Ma. Hernandez – wrote PANDAY PIRA
2. Francisco Soc Rodrigo – wrote sa PULA, SA PUTI
3. Clodualdo del Mundo – wrote BULAGA (an expression in the game Hide and Seek)
4. Julian Cruz Balmaceda – wrote SINO BA KAYO? DAHIL SA ANAK, and HIGANTE NG PATAY.
Three types of poems emerged during this period. HAIKU – a poem of free verse that the
Japanese liked. It is made up of seventeen (17) syllables divided into three (3) lines. The first line has
five, the second – seven and the third – five. It is allegorical in meaning, short and covers a wide
scope in meaning.
Like the haiku, it is short, but has measure and rhyme. Each line has seventeen syllables and
is also allegorical in meaning. (Usual Form) – the usual and common form of poetry
The field of the short story widened during the Japanese Occupation. Many wrote short
stories. -Among them were: Brigido Batungbakal Macario Pineda Serafin Guinigindo Liwayway Arceo,
Narciso Ramos NVM Gonzales, Alicia Lopez Lim Ligaya Perez Gloria Guzman
The best writings in 1945 were selected by a group of judges composed of Francisco
Icasiano, Jose Esperanza Cruz, Antonio Rosales, Clodualdo del Mundo and Teodoro Santos.

10
 As a result of this selection, the following got the first three prizes: First Prize: Narciso Reyes
with his LUPANG TINUBUAN Second Prize: Liwayway Arceo’s UHAW ANG TIGANG NA LUPA Third
Prize: NVM Gonzales’ LUNSOD NAYON AT DAGAT-DAGATAN
Noteworthy writer of the period was Carlos P. Romulo who won the Pulitzer Prize for his
bestsellers I SAW THE FALL OF THE PHILIPPINES; I SEE THE PHILIPPINES RISE and his MOTHER
AMERICA AND MY BROTHER AMERICANS. Journalists include Salvador P. Lopez, Leon Ma. Geurrero,
Raul Manglapuz and Carlos Bulosan. Nick Joaquin produced THE WOMAN WHO LOOKED LIKE
LAZARUS. Fred Ruiz Castro wrote a few poems.
LITERATURE AND SOCIETY by Salvador P. Lopez (Essay) HIS NATIVE SOIL – by Juan Laya
(Novel) President Manuel L. Quezon’s autobiography THE GOOD FIGHT was published posthumously.
Other writers of this period were Juan Collas (19440, Tomas Confesor (1945), Roman A. de la Cruz
and Elisa Tabuñar.

*** HAIKU Poetry Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage
Task/Activity
Haiku Poetry Form 40%
*Create your own Haiku. Structure Line Relationship
Language Imagery 30%
http://aprilmaynjune.weebly.com/
Subject, Neatness, Spelling 30%
socio-1/the-rebirth-of-freedom-
100%
TOPIC 6: THE REBIRTH OF FREEDOM
1946-1970-period-of-activism-1970-1972

The Americans returned in 1945. Filipinos rejoiced and guerillas who fled to the mountain
joined the liberating American Army. On July 4, 1946, the Philippines regained is freedom and the
Filipino flag waved joyously alone. The chains were broken.

A. THE STATE OF LITERATURE DURING THIS PERIOD

The early post-liberation period was marked by a kind of “struggle of mind and spirit” posed
by the sudden emancipation from the enemy, and the wild desire to see print. Filipinos had, by this
time, learned to express themselves more confidently but post-war problems beyond language and
print-like economic stability, the threat of new ideas and mortality – had to be grappled with side by
side.
There was a proliferation of newspapers like the FREE PRESS, MORNING SUN, of Sergio
Osmeña Sr., DAILY MIRROR of Joaquin Roces, EVENING NEWS of Ramon Lopezes and the BULLETIN of
Menzi. This only proved that there were more readers in English than in any ocher vernaculars like
Tagalog, Ilocano or Hiligaynon.
Journalists had their day. They indulged in more militant attitude in their reporting which
bordered on the libelous. Gradually, as normality was restored, the tones and themes of the writings
turned to the less pressing problems of economic survival. Some Filipino writers who had gone
abroad and had written during the interims came back to publish their works. Not all the books
published during the period reflected the war year; some were compilations or second editions of
what have been written before.
Some of the writers and their works of the periods are: THE VOICE OF THE VETERAN – a
compilation of the best works of some Ex-USAFFE men like Amante Bigornia, Roman de la Cruz,
Ramon de Jesus and J.F. Rodriguez. TWILIGHT IN TOKYO and PASSION and DEATH OF THE USAFFE by
Leon Ma. Guerrero FOR FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY – by S.P. Lopez BETRAYAL IN THE PHILIPPINES –
by Hernando Abay.SEVEN HILLS AWAY – by NVM Gonzales POETRY IN ENGLISH DURING THIS PERIOD
For the first twenty years, many books were published…both in Filipino and in English. Among the
writers during this time were: Fred Ruiz Castro, Dominador I. Ilio, and C.B. Rigor.

Some notable works of the period include the following:

1. HEART OF THE ISLANDS (1947) – a collection of poems by Manuel Viray
2. PHILIPPINES CROSS SECTION (1950) – a collection of prose and poetry by Maximo Ramos and
Florentino Valeros
3. PROSE AND POEMS (1952) – by Nick Joaquin
4. PHILIPPINE WRITING (1953) – by T.D. Agcaoili
5. PHILIPPINE HAVEST – by Amador Daguio
6. HORIZONS LEAST (1967) – a collection of works by the professors of UE, mostly in English
(short stories, essays, research papers, poem and drama) by Artemio Patacsil and Silverio
Baltazar. The themes of most poems dealt with the usual love of nature, and of social and
political problems. Toribia Maño’s poems showed deep emotional intensity.
11
 7. WHO SPOKE OF COURAGE IN HIS SLEEP – by NVM Gonzales
8. SPEAK NOT, SPEAK ALSO – by Conrado V. Pedroche
9. Other poets were Toribia Maño and Edith L. Tiempo Jose Garcia Villa’s HAVE COME, AM HERE
won acclaim both here and abroad.

NOVELS AND SHORT STORIES IN ENGLISH

Longer and longer pieces were being written by writers of the period. Stevan Javellana’s
WITHOUT SEEING THE DAWN tells of the grim experiences of war during the Japanese Occupation. In
1946, the Barangay Writer’s Project whose aim was to publish works in English by Filipinos was
established. In 1958, the PEN Center of the Philippines (Poets, essayists, novelists) was inaugurated.
In the same year, Francisco Arcellana published his PEN ANTHOLOGY OF SHORT STORIES. In 1961,
Kerima Polotan’s novel THE HAND OF THE ENEMY won the Stonehill Award for the Filipino novel in
English. In 1968, Luis V. Teodoro Jr.’s short story THE ADVERSARY won the Philippines Free Press
short story award; in 1969, his story THE TRAIL OF PROFESSOR RIEGO won second prize in the
Palanca Memorial. Awards for Literature and in 1970, his short story THE DISTANT CITY won the
GRAPHIC short story award

THE NEW FILIPINO LITERATURE DURING THIS PERIOD

Philippines literature in Tagalog was revived during this period. Most themes in the writings
dealt with Japanese brutalities, of the poverty of life under the Japanese government and the brave
guerilla exploits. Newspapers and magazine publications were re-opened like the Bulaklak,
Liwayway, Ilang Ilang and Sinag Tala. Tagalog poetry acquired not only rhyme but substance and
meaning. Short stories had better characters and events based on facts and realities and themes
were more meaningful. Novels became common but were still read by the people for recreation.
The people’s love for listening to poetic jousts increased more than before and people
started to flock to places to hear poetic debates. Many books were published during this time,
among which were:

1. Mga Piling Katha (1947-48) by Alejandro Abadilla

2. Ang Maikling Kuwentong Tagalog (1886-1948) by Teodoro Agoncillo
3. Ako’y Isang Tinig (1952) collection of poems and stories by Genoveva Edroza Matute
4. Mga Piling Sanaysay (1952) by Alejandro Abadilla
5. Maikling Katha ng Dalawampung Pangunahing Autor (1962) by A.G. Abadilla and Ponciano
E.P. Pineda
6. Parnasong Tagalog (1964) collection of selected poems by Huseng Sisiw and Balagtas,
collected by A.G. Abadilla
7. Sining at Pamamaraan ng Pag-aaral ng Panitikan (1965) by Rufino Alejandro. He prepared
this book for teaching in reading and appreciation of poems, dramas, short stories and novels
8. Manlilikha, Mga Piling Tula (1961-1967) by Rogelio G. Mangahas
9. Mga Piling Akda ng Kadipan (Kapisanang Aklat ng Diwa at Panitik) 1965 by Efren Abueg
10. Makata (1967) first cooperative effort to publish the poems of 16 poets in Pilipino
11. Pitong Dula (1968) by Dionisio Salazar
12. Manunulat: Mga Piling Akdang Pilipino (1970) by Efren Abueg. In this book, Abueg proved
that it is possible to have a national integration of ethnic culture in our country.
13. Mga Aklat ni Rizal: Many books about Rizal came out during this period. The law ordering the
additional study of the life of Rizal helped a lot in activating our writers to write books about
Rizal. PALANCA AWARDS Another inspiration for writers in Filipino was the launching of the
Palanca Memorial Awards for literature headed by Carlos Palanca Sr. in 1950. (Until now, the
awards are still being given although the man who founded it has passed away). The awards
were given to writers of short stories, plays and poetry.

The first awardees in its first year, 1950-51 in the field of the short story were the following:
 First Prize: KUWENTO NI MABUTI by Genoveva Edroza
 Second Prize: MABANGIS NA KAMAY…MAAMONG KAMAY by Pedro S. Dandan
 Third Prize: PLANETA, BUWAN AT MGA BITUIN by Elpidio P. Kapulong.

Task/Activity
*Enumerate at least five novels and five short stories written by a Filipino author.

12
 TOPIC 7: THE PERIOD OF ACTIVISM
https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/period-of-activism-and-the-new-society/

Historical Background According to Ponciano Pineda, youth activism in 1970-72 was due to
domestic and worldwide causes. Activism is connected with the history of our Filipino youth.
Because of the ills of society, the youth moved to seek reforms. Some continued to believe that the
democratic government is stable and that it is only the people running the government who are at
fault. Some believed that socialism or communism should replace democracy. Some armed groups
were formed to bring down the democratic form of government.
Many young people became activists to ask for changes in the government. In the
expression of this desire for change, keen were the writings of some youth who were fired with
nationalism in order to emphasize the importance of their petitions. Many young activists were
imprisoned in military camps together with rebel writers. As early as this period of history we can say
that many of those writers who were imprisoned were true nationalists and heroes of their time.
Many books aptly record and embody these times but many of these are not known to many
and many of these writers still have to be interviewed. We just leave to scholars and researchers the
giving of credit where credit is due.

A. THE SEED OF ACTIVISM

The seeds of activism resulted in the declaration of

Martial Law in 1972. We can, however, say that he seeds were
earlier sown from the times of Lapu-lapu, Lakandula, and Rizal.
The revolution against the powerful forces in the Philippines
can be said to be the monopoly of the youth in whose veins
flow the fire in their blood. What Rizal said of the youth being
the hope of the Fatherland – is still valid even today.

https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/period-of-activism-
and-the-new-society/

4. PERIOD OF THE BLOODY PLACARDS

https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/period-of-activism-and-the-new-society/
Pineda also said that this was the time when the
youth once more proved that it is not the constant
evasion that shapes our race and nationalism. There is a
limit to one’s patience. It may explode like a volcano if
overstrained. Life? What avails like if one is a coward
who does not take a stand for himself and for the
succeeding generations?
The youth became completely rebellious during
this period. This was proven not only in the bloody
demonstrations and in the sidewalk expressions but also
in literature. Campus newspapers showed rebellious emotions. The once aristocratic writers
developed awareness for society. They held pens and wrote on placards in red paint the equivalent
of the word MAKIBAKA (To dare!). They attacked the ills of society and politics. Any establishment
became the symbol of the ills that had to be changed. The frustrations of youth could be felt in
churches and school. Even the priests, teachers and parents, as authorities who should be respected
became targets of the radical youth and were thought of as hindrances to the changes they sought.
The literature of the activists reached a point where they stated boldly what should be done
to effect these changes. Some of those who rallied to this revolutionary form of literature were
Rolando Tinio, Rogelio Mangahas, Efren Abueg, Rio Alma, and Clemente Bautista.

WRITING DURING THE PERIOD OF ACTIVISM

The irreverence for the poor reached its peak during this period of the mass revolution. It
was also during this period that Bomba films that discredit our ways as Filipinos started to come out.

WRITERS DURING THIS PERIOD

Jose F. Lacaba, in his book DAYS OF DISQUIET, NIGHTS OF RAGE; THE FIRST QUARTERS
STORM AND RELATED EVENTS, wrote of the tragic and tumultuous moments in our country’s history.
Describing this period, he writes: “That first quarter of the year 1970…It was a glorious time, a time
13
of terror and of wrath, but also a time for hope. The signs of change were on the horizon. A powerful
storm was sweeping the land, a storm whose inexorable advance no earthly force could stop, and
the name of the storm was history.”
He mentions that those students demonstrating at that time knew and were aware that
what they were doing would be crucial to our country’s history. Student leaders thought up
grandiose names for their organizations and hence, the proliferation of acronyms likes SUCCOR, YDS,
KTPD, SAGUPA, SMP, KKK, KM, MDP, and SDK. Politicians endorsed bills for those who interfered
with student demonstrators. Mayor Antonio Villegas himself, on Feb. 18, 1970, led demonstrators
away from angry policemen. Other politicians like Eva Estrada Kalaw, and Salvador Laurel, Benigno
Aquino Jr. wrote about condemnation of police brutalities.
Lacaba’s book is truly representative of writers who were eyewitnesses to this time “of
terror and wrath.” Other writers strove to pour out their anguish and frustrations in words describing
themselves as “gasping for the air, thirsting for the water of freedom.” Thus, the Philippine Center
for the International PEN (Poets, Essayists, and Novelists) held a conference centering on the
“writer’s lack of freedom in a climate of fear.”
For a day they denounced restrictions on artistic freedom and passionately led a plea for
freedom. Among the writers in this group were: Nick Joaquin, S.P. Lopez, Gregorio Brillantes, F. Sionil
Jose, Petronilo Daroy, Letty Jimenez-Magsanoc, Mauro Avelina, and Jose W. Diokno. People in the
other media participated in this quest for freedom. Journalists Jose Burgos Jr., Antonio Ma. Nieva,;
movie director Lino Brocka, art critic Anna Leah S. de Leon were battling head – on against
censorship.
They came up with resolutions that pleaded for causes other than their own – like the
general amnesty for political prisoners, and other secret decrees restricting free expression. They
requested editors and publishers to publish the real names of writers in their columns. It called on
media to disseminate information on national interest without partisan leanings and resolved to be
united with all causes decrying oppression and repression.

Task/Activity
*Informal Essay Rubric
CRITERIA Percentage
* Describe the period of activism.
Quality of Writing 50%
Explain briefly.
Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
100%

TOPIC 8: THE PERIOD OF THE NEW SOCIETY

https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/period-of-activism-and-the-new-society/
The period of the New Society started on September 21, 1972. The Carlos Palanca Awards
continued to give annual awards. Almost all themes in most writings dealt with the development or
progress of the country –like the Green Revolution, family planning, proper nutrition, environment,
drug addiction and pollution. The New Society tried to stop pornography or those writings giving bad
influences on the morals of the people. All school newspapers were temporarily stopped and so with
school organizations.
The military government established a new office called the Ministry of Public Affairs that
supervised the newspapers, books and other publications. The government took part in reviving old
plays like the Cenaculo, the Zarzuela and the Embayoka of the Muslims. The Cultural Center of the
Philippines, the Folk Arts Theater and even the old Metropolitan Theater were rebuilt in order to
have a place for these plays. Singing both Filipino and English songs received fresh incentives. Those
sent abroad promoted many Filipino songs. The weekly publications like KISLAP, and LIWAYWAY
helped a lot in the development of literature. These became outlets for our writers to publish many
of their works.

A. FILIPINO POETRY DURING THE PERIOD OF THE NEW SOCIETY

Themes of most poems dealt with patience, regard for native culture, customs and the
beauties of nature and surroundings. Those who wrote poetry during this period were: Ponciano
Pineda, Aniceto Silvestre, Jose Garcia Revelo, Bienvenido Ramos, Vicente Dimasalang, Cir Lopez
Francisco, and Pelagio Sulit Cruz.
Many more composers added their bit during this period. Among them were Freddie
Aguilar, Jose Marie Chan and the group Tito, Vic and Joey. ANAK of Freddie Aguilar became an
instant success because of the spirit and emotions revealed in the song. There were even
translations in Japanese and in other languages.
https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/period-of-activism-and-the-new-society/

14
THE PLAY UNDER THE NEW SOCIETY
The government led in reviving old plays and dramas, like the Tagalog Zarzuela, Cenaculo
and the Embayoka of the Muslims which were presented in the rebuilt Metropolitan Theater, the
Folk Arts Theater and the Cultural Center of the Philippines.Many schools and organizations also
presented varied plays.The Mindanao State University presented a play Sining Embayoka at the
Cultural Center of the Philippines.
In 1977, the Tales of Manuvu, a new style of rock of the ballet opera was also added to these
presentations. This was performed by Celeste Legaspi, Lea Navarro, Hadji Alejandro, Boy Camara,
Anthony Castello, Rey Dizon and choreographed by Alic Reyes.Even the President’s daughter at the
time participated as a performing artist in the principal role of Santa Juana of Koral and in The Diary
of Anne Frank.
The following organizations contributed a lot to the development of plays during this period:
1. PETA of Cecille Guidote and Lino Brocka
2. Repertory Philippines: of Rebecca Godines and Zenaida Amador
3. UP Repertory of Behn Cervantes
4. Teatro Filipino by Rolando Tinio
RADIO AND TELEVISION
Radio continued to be patronized during this period. The play series like SI MATAR, DAHLIA,
ITO AND PALAD KO, and MR. LONELY were the forms of recreation of those without television. Even
the new songs were first heard over the airwaves. However, many performing artists in radio moved
over to television because of higher pay. Among these were Augusto Victa, Gene Palomo, Mely
Tagasa, Lina Pusing, and Ester Chavez. Popular television plays were GULONG NG PALAD, FLOR DE
LUNA, and ANNA LIZA.SUPERMAN AND TARZAN were also popular with the youth.

FILIPINO FILMS
A yearly Pista ng mga Pelikulang Pilipino (Yearly Filipino Film Festival) was held during this
time. During the festival which lasted usually for a month, only Filipino films were shown in all
theaters in Metro Manila. Prizes and trophies were awarded at the end of the festival in recognition
of excellence in film making and in role performances.

COMICS, MAGAZINES AND OTHER PUBLICATIONS

During this period of the New Society, newspapers donned new forms. News on economic
progress, discipline, culture, tourism and the like were favored more than the sensationalized
reporting of killings, rape and robberies.

AN OVERVIEW OF THE LITERATUE DURING THE NEW SOCIETY

Bilingual education which was initiated by the Board of National Education as early as 1958
and continued up to the period of Martial Rule in September 21, 1972, resulted in the deterioration
of English in the different levels of education. The focus of education and culture was on problems of
national identity, on re-orientation, renewed vigor and a firm resolve to carry out plans and
programs. The forms of literature that led during this period were the essays, debates and poetry.
The short stories, like the novels and plays were no different in style from those written before the
onset of activism.

Task/Activity
* Describe the period of the new society. Explain briefly. The same rubric will be used.

TOPIC 9: THE PERIOD OF THE THIRD REPUBLIC

https://group4lit1webpage.wordpress.com/the-3rd-republic/

Period of the Third Republic (1981-1985)

After ten years of military rule and some changes in the life of the Filipino which started
under the New Society, Martial Rule was at last lifted on January 2, 1981.
To those in government, the lifting of military rule heralded a change. To their perceptions, the
Philippines became a new nation and this; former President Marcos called “The New Republic of the
Philippines.”
A historian called this the Third Republic. The First Republic he claimed was during the
Philippine Republic of Emilio Aguinaldo when we first got our independence form the Spaniards on
June 12, 1898. The Second was when the Americans granted us our independence on July 4, 1946.
This period, January 2, 1981, was the Third Republic when we were freed from Military Rule. During

15
this period, it cannot be denied that many people seethed with rebellion and protest because of the
continued oppression and suppression.
This was further aggravated when former Senator Benigno S. Aquino Jr., the idol of the
Filipino masses, whom they hoped to be the next president, was president, was brutally murdered
on August 21, 1983. This stage of the nation had its effect on our literature. After the Aquino
assassinated, the people’s voices could no long be contained. Both the public and private sectors in
government were chanting, and shouting; women, men and the youth became bolder and their
voices were raised in dissent. We can say that Philippine literature, in spite of the many restrictions,
still surreptitiously retained its luster.

THE PALANCA AWARDS

The Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for literature which was launched in 1950,
continued its recognition of the best in the literary fields –poetry, short story, essays, and the one
and three-act plays. In 1984, the Palanca Awards started choosing the best in novel writing. This
contest, held every three years, gives time for local writers to write more beautiful and quality
works. The next contest on the best novel was held in 1987. La Tondeña continues to be its sponsor.

FILIPINO POETRY
Poems during this period of the Third Republic were romantic and revolutionary. Writers
wrote openly of their criticism against the government. The supplications of the people were
coached in fiery, colorful, violent, profane and insulting language.

FILIPINO SONGS
Many Filipino songs dealt with themes that were really true-to-life like those of grief,
poverty, aspirations for freedom, love of God, of country and of fellowmen.
Many composers, grieved over Ninoy Aquino’s treacherous assassination composed songs.
Among them were Coritha, Eric and Freddie Aguilar. Corithaand Eric composed asongtitles LABAN
NG BAYAN KO and this was first sung by Corithaduring the National Unification Conference of the
Opposition in March, 1985. This was also sung during the Presidential Campaign Movement for Cory
Aquino to inspire the movement against Marcos in February 1986.Freddie Aguilar revived the song
BAYAN KO which was written by Jose Corazon de Jesus and C. de Guzman during the American
period.

PHILIPPINE FILMS DURING THE PERIOD

The yearly Festival of Filipino Films continued to be held during this period. The people’s
love for sex films also was unabated. Many producers took advantage of this at the expense of public
morality.

POETRY IN ENGLISH DURING THE THIRD REPUBLIC

Most especially, during the wake of the tragic BenignoAquino Jr.’sincident, people reacted
with shock, appalled by the suddenness and the unexpectedness of events.
Alfredo Navarro Salanga, a consistent writer of Philippines Panorama Magazine in his
column “Post-Prandal Reflections” aptly said it: “darkness in the mind and soul is how some
forgotten poet puts it. Its suddenness was so profound that we couldn’t but react to it in any other
way.” Elemental to us (poets or writers) was how to grasp to some meaning –in a symbol, a phrase
or word –in the language of heart and tongue, the poet’s only candles. So, we tried to reach out in
the next and perhaps the only way we could: by putting pen to paper and speaking out –as partisans
in a human drama. Poets, surprisingly, by common consent, found themselves writing on a common
subject. Reproduction of some of them is reprinted here. We aptly call them Protest Poetry of the
‘80’s. The themes of most during this time dealt with courage, shock and grief over the “treachery
inflicted upon Aquino.”

MEDIA OF 1983
Sheila S. Coronel, a PANORAMA staff stalwart, reporting on the state of the media during
these times said: it was a year of ferment, and change, of old problems made more oppressive by the
new throbbing beat of the times.” For journalists, it was a year loaded with libel charges, lawsuits
and seditious trials which they gallantly bore as harassment suits.
JAJA (Justice for Aquino, Justice for All) Movement called for a boycott of government –
controlled newspapers in protest of media suppression. People picketed newspapers offices with
coffins to symbolize the death of press freedom. In campuses, newspapers were set afire to protest
lack of free expression. Journalists suffered physically and otherwise. Journalists of 3 major dailies
demanded a dialogue with their publishers to “restore credibility and respectability”to newspapers.

16
 Opposition tabloids flourished. They sold our papers with the red news to the starved public;
hence, smut magazines like the TIKTIK, PLAYBOY SCENE, and SAKDAL also played the sidewalks.
Radio led by RADIO VERITAS started reporting coverage of demonstrations. Information Minister
Gregorio Cendañacalled the tabloids the “mosquito press”and called their new “political
pornography.” However, there was a perceptible liberalization of editorial policies in the major
newspapers.
CHILDREN’S BOOKS
Among the well-loved forms of writing which abounded during this period were those of
children’s stories. The Children’s Communication Center (CCC) directed by poet and writer VirgilioS.
Almarioalready has built up an impressive collection of these kinds of books. The following are some
of the books of the period.
 1982: PLAYS FOR CHILDREN by JameB. Reuter S.J. (New Day Pub.)
 1983: STORY TELLING FOR YOUNG CHILDREN
 1983: JOSE AND CARDO by Peggy CorrManuel

(PROSE) FABLES
The people’s cry of protest found outlets not only in poetry but also in veiled prose fables which
transparently satirized the occupants of Malacañang. Among those that saw prints were:
 The Crown Jewels of Heezenhurstby Sylvia Mendez Ventura
 The Emperor’s New Underwear by MeynardoA. Macaraig
 The King’s Cold by BabethLolarga
 The Case of the Missing Charisma (unfinished) by Sylvia L. Mayuga.
In all the fables, the king, differently referred to as TotusMarkus or the king or Haring
Matinikwas meant to poke fun at the ruler at Malacañang; similarly, Reyna Maganda or the Queen,
was a veiled thrust at his queen. They were both drunk with power and were punished in the end for
their misdeeds.

THE STATE OF PHILIPPINE LITERATURE IN ENGLISH AT THIS TIME

Isagani Cruz, writing about Philippine literature in the “Age of Ninoy” makes the following
observations: “Philippine’s literature is definitely changing,”and he summarizes these as follows:
1. Change in the direction of greater consciousness in content and form.
2. Change in the number of readers and the number of writers and the kind of class of writers.
Writers who joined the ranks came not only from the established or professional groups but
from all ranks –clerks, secretaries, drivers, housewives, students; in short, the masses.

3. The resurgence of Balagtasismoand the continued dominance of Modernismo. While

Balagtasismoturned its back on the American challenge to Philippine literature its
conservative conventions, Modernismoadapted Americanization for its own ends.

4. The birth of a new poetic movement still dims in outline.

5. The apparent merging of the erstwhile separate streams of oral and written literature.

Task/Activity
* Describe the period of the third republic. Explain briefly. The same rubric for informal essay will
be used.

TOPIC 10: THE CONTEMPORARY PERIOD

http://reegiibear.blogspot.com/2012/09/historical-background-of-philippine.html

Historical Background
History took another twist. Once more, the Filipino people regained their independence
which they lost twenty years ago. In the span of four days form February 21-25, 1986, the so-called
People Power (Lakas ng Bayan) prevailed. Together, the people barricaded the streets petitioning the
government for changes and reforms. Freedom became a reality –won through a peaceful, bloodless
and God-blessed revolution. Philippine society was in turmoil for a few weeks but the rejoicing after
the Pres. Marcos was toppled down from power was sheer euphoria. Singing, dancing and shoutings
were the order of the day.
The events created overnight heroes. In this historical event, the role played by two big
figures in history cannot be doubted. To Defense Minister Juan Ponce Enrile and Armed Forces Chief
17
of Staff Fidel V. Ramos, as well as to the cause of freedom do the Filipinos owe their gratitude for the
blessing of Independence? To the Filipino people, this is the true Philippine Republic, the true
Republic of the Philippines.

PERIOD:
In the short span of the existence of the true Republic of the Philippines, several changes
already became evident. This in noticed in the new Filipino songs, in the newspapers, in the
speeches, and even in the television programs.
1. On Newspapers and other publications:
Newspapers which were once branded crony newspapers became instant opposition papers
overnight. This was true of BULLETIN TODAY which became the opposition paper. The now crony
newspapers that enjoyed an overnight increase in circulation were THE INQUIRER, MALAYA, and the
PEOPLE’S JOURNAL. Newspapers felt that the shackles that muzzled their voices during the
repressive years had been broken and, like a bird “trying its wings after a long time of bondage, the
desire to write about this “miracle of change” was electric.
Columnists became vocal and unrestricted in there are and a bumper crop of young
journalists emerged. The old stalwarts of the former dispensation like Maximo Soliven, Louie Beltran,
Hilarion Henares, and Francisco Soc Rodrigo came back with a vengeance. By June 12, 1986, a total
of 19 local dailies both in English and Filipino were in circulation. Nowhere since the 1950’s had there
been such a big number of newspapers in circulation (excluding tabloids).
These newspapers include: BULLETIN, TEMPO, BALITA, MALAY, MIDDAY, MASA, MANILA
TIMES, NEWS HERALD, TRIBUNE, NGAYON, INQUIRER, EXPRESS TONIGHT, EVENING POST, PEOPLE’S,
DAILY MIRROR, BUSINESS DAY, and MANILA CHRONICLE.

2. On Books: Philippine literature is still in the making…we are just beginning a new era.
The Phillippine Revolution of 1986 and the fire of its spirit that will carry the Filipinos
through another epoch in Philippine history is still being documented just as they have been in the
countless millions who participated in body and spirit in its realization. Two books were conceived
during the period. PEOPLE POWER was produced under a grant by the PCI Bank Human Resources
Development Foundation, edited by Monina Allare y Mercado and published by the James B. Reuter,
S.J. Foundation. Another one BAYAN KO was published by Project 28 Days LTD. in June, 1986 in
Kowloon, Hong Kong and co-published in the Philippines by Veritas Publications and
Communications Foundation.
In March 19, 1987, the Seventh National Book Awards cited several best books published in
1987 according to the choices made by the Manila Critics Circle. Among those awarded were:
Dreamweavers Selected Poems (1976-1986) by Marjorie Pernia and Awit at Corrido: Philippine
Metrical Romances by Damiana L. Eugenio. Bookfair Manila ’88 organized by the Philippine Exhibit
Company was held on February 20-28, 1988. It was held with the belief that “requisition of
knowledge not only enhances individual skills and capabilities but more importantly, makes positive
contributions to the nation’s development program.”

B. FILIPINO SONGS DURING THIS PERIOD

Here are a few Filipino songs that were often heard. They were often aired in radio and
television and often accompanied the historical events that transpired in the Philippines and gained
for the Filipinos world-wide acclaim. An album named HANDOG NG PILIPINO SA MUNDO carried a
compilation of some of these. The song that continued to be sung throughout the trying period of
the Revolution, almost like a second national anthem and which gave fire to the Filipino spirit was
BAYAN KO. Its lyrics were written by Jose Corazon de Jesus way back in 1928.

Summary
The flowering of Philippine literature in the various languages continue especially with the
appearance of new publications after the Martial Law years and the resurgence of committed
literature in the 1960s and the 1970s. Filipino writers continue to write poetry, short stories,
novellas, novels and essays whether these are socially committed, gender/ethnic related or are
personal in intention or not. Of course, the Filipino writer has become more conscious of his art with
the proliferation of writer’s workshops here and abroad and the bulk of literature available to him
via the mass media including the internet. The various literary awards such as the Don Carlos Palanca
Memorial Awards for Literature, the Philippines Free Press, Philippine Graphic, Home Life and
Panorama literary awards encourage him to compete with his peers and hope that his creative
efforts will be rewarded in the long run. With the new requirement by the Commission on Higher
Education of teaching of Philippine Literature in all tertiary schools in the country emphasizing the
teaching of the vernacular literature or literatures of the regions, the audience for Filipino writers is

18
virtually assured. And, perhaps, a national literature finding its niche among the literatures of the
world will not be far behind.

Task/Activity

* Describe the contemporary period. Explain briefly.

ASSESSMENT

*Explain briefly in your own understanding the historical background of the Philippine Literature.
* Compare and contrast the different periods discussed in this lesson.
**The same rubrics for Informal Essay will be used.

LESSON 3
REGIONAL LITERARY COMPOSITIONS

TOPICS
1. Cordillera Administrative Region
2. Region 1
3. Region 2
4. Region 3
5. Region 4
6. Region 5
7. Region 6
8. Region 7
9. Region 8
10. Region 9
11. Region 10
12. Region 11
13. Region 12
14. Region 13
15. National Capital Region
16. Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao

LEARNING OUTCOMES
At the end of the lesson, you should be able to:
1. Internalize the values learned for daily life application;
2. Recognize the importance of writings that sustained the existence of our
culture;
3. Relate to how our ancestors lived their lives form the literary text produced;
4. Link issues acquired from the literary text to present-day issues;
Pre-Test.
5. Depict Identify the givenand
the aesthetic information
linguistic below on which
qualities Region
of literary they belong (Region 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,
text;
7,6.
8, 9,Analyze
10, 11, the
12, and 13, ARMM, NCR, and CAR)
literary elements found in each literary selection; and
1.
7. The
TakeGreat Flood
part in story-telling, poetry reading and acting activities.
2. How my Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife
3. The Legend of Mayon Volcano
4. The Monkey and the Turtle
5. Bangkang Papel

19
 6. Carlos Sampayan Bulosan
7. Abdon M. Balde, Jr.
8. The region which contains the largest plain in the country and produces most of the country's
rice supply, earning itself the nickname "Rice Granary of the Philippines".
9. The landlocked region
10. The region which comprises four provinces: Ilocos Norte, Ilocos Sur, La Union and Pangasinan

TOPIC 1: CORDILLERA ADMINISTRATIVE REGION (CAR)

Cordillera Administrative Region (Ilocano: Rehion/Deppaar Administratibo ti Kordiliera; Tagalog:

Rehiyong Pampangasiwaan ng Cordillera), designated as CAR, is an administrative region in the
Philippines, situated within the island of Luzon. The only landlocked region in the insular country, it is
bordered by the Ilocos Region to west and southwest, and by the Cagayan Valley Region to the
north, east, and southeast. It is the least populous region in the Philippines, with a population less
than that of the City of Manila. The region comprises six landlocked provinces: Abra, Apayao,
Benguet, Ifugao, Kalinga and Mountain Province. The regional center is the highly urbanized city of
Baguio.
The landlocked region, officially created on July 15, 1987 covers most of the Cordillera Central
mountains of Luzon, and is home to numerous ethnic peoples. The landlocked Nueva Vizcaya
province has a majority-Igorot population, but was placed by the American colonial government in
the Cagayan Valley region instead during the early 20th century.
https://ovelynflores.weebly.com/san-ba-ey-da.html

1. San Ba-ey Da
Original English TranslationTheir Household (Translated
by Richard M. Chawag)
San Ba-ey DaBy Bryan AlipingNo lay dem ay If you desire to see my father’s houseBe patient,
mangila, isnan baey da amaAnusam ta Mandan travel by foot for a day and a half,Look at not my
ka isay agew ya kagedwaIsnan-baey da ama, adi father’s dwelling with dismayThree story hut on a
kan kadisdismayaTe ep-epat san tukod na, ngem four Pillars of Pine woodOutside, you will see a
three stories ay kanandaNo ilam san agdanan, bamboo stairwayBe not amazed for it follows
kawayan ay inamag daTay magay pantaloon na you insideLook at no father with the feeling of
ngem adu-ando san wanes naNo ilam pay si Ina, dismayFor around his waist is not a pair of pants,
adi kan kadisdismayaTay maiwed sapatos along G-string insteadLook at not mother with a
nangem nadiwal san dapan naInmey ta ed- feeling of dismayFor her gnarled feet wear no
baeymi, wat togtogi di insango miPati pay san pair of shoesWhen I bought you to our house one
isda mi yan ug-ugot di sayoteSan pangpangan mi dayWe fed you with some tops of sayote There
nilaga ay kawayanPati nan pansibuwan nakaw- you saw our plate made of bambooAnd out of
kawayanay kal-lasanSia pay dis innak kanan, tay such, our bowl was craftedThat is all I have to
sisan kapudnuanBiag di kakuduwan ay indas ung- say, that is all I know is true That is the life of the
ungus poorest man, mocked and despised by other men
Immeyak ed baey yo inapoy san insango yoPati When I went to your house one day,Rice is what
pay san isida yo, yan pinirito ay patoIsnan baey you served to me, fried duck too, that is what I
da amam, sinisinyakal da nan daananNgem san saw.Everywhere in your father’s house is Yakal
enta nanpasyaran men dukdukog si inamSan madeAnd in the visit, your mother’s head was
nagil-ak ken inam manluglugam san bowed.
baanganKanak en enak badangan Mandukog yan When I saw your father, he was warming himself
kuma-anSan nagil-ak kaen amam, man-annidon at the hearthI thought it well to join him, but he
day-uwanKanak en ennak datngan nan ngusiyek chuckled and leftI turned to see your elder
duwan kuma-anIlaek san inaunam, manbalbalsig brother and he was chopping woods in your
san arubayanKanak en enak badangan, ground
nagngusiyek duwan kumaanAdiyak makabadan I thought to chat with him but he ignores me all
gaget yo ay sin pangabong Adiyak makabadang the time
gaget yo ay dadamaKedeng et baw adi, san man I cannot compete with your family’s industry
arem ay napubri Wat dakan iyuto-utotan, dan I truly cannot compete with your family.
kanan ipinla-pinlaanAnngey ay isurender ko san That is enough for a poor suitor like me
layad ko ken sik-a Taenmey ka man ila Lalakis for mockery and humiliation is what I got.
wadya adal na Now, I surrender, I give up my life for youso, you
can search for an educated man suite to you.

20
 Task/Activity

In a separate sheet of paper give your insight about the poem. Discuss briefly. The same rubric
for informal essay will be used.

2. The Great Flood

Also known as: Itneg; Tinggian

The Tinguian or Itneg live in the western Cordillera of Luzon, the largest island of the
Philippines. Headhunting played a central role in their indigenous religion - when a prominent man
died, it was essential to conduct a headhunting raid to end the period of mourning that followed.
Until the early twentieth century, the Christianized neighbours of the Tinguian would often fall victim
to these raids. Like the other peoples of the Cordillera, the Tinguian converted to Christianity in the
course of the twentieth century.

The Great Flood

Tinggian

The Tinggians, a group of pagan people inhabiting the interior hills of Abra, have their own story
of the Great Deluge. The tragic began with the abduction of Humitau, a sea-maiden guard of Tau-
mari-u, lord of the sea; by Aponi-tolau.
One day, Aponi-tolau, god-hero of the Tinggians went down to the lowlands. He wandered
aimlessly through the plains until he reached the seashore. The calm blue sea, massive and yet
helpless beneath the morning sun which flooded it with golden light, fascinated the young man. And
unable to resist the beauty of the dancing wavelets, he made a rattan raft and rowed seaward.
On and on the rowed until he came to the edge of the world. There, in a place where the sea and
the sky meet, Aponi-tolau saw a towering rock, home of Tau-mari-u, lord of the sea. It was guarded
by nine beautiful daughters of the seaweeds. The radiance of the ocean light reflecting silver and
gold upon the greenish hair of the nine guards as they played around the palace gates, chasing one
another in gay laughter, attracted the mountain lord.
Gathering his courage, the Tinggian warrior went nearer the palace gates. However, when he
inquired what place it was, the maiden guards laughed at him and lured him further inside the palace
walls. This made Aponi-tolau very angry. Taking his magic hook, he lashed at the unsuspecting
maidens.
The hook hit the youngest and the most beautiful among them, Humitau. The young diwata gave
a loud and piercing scream and struggled desperately to free herself from Aponi-tolau’s grip but the
magic oil which the mountain lord had placed at the tip of his hooked weakened her blood and soon
she was helpless.
A wild uproar followed as the guards screamed and fled the gates. Aponi-tolau hurriedly picked
up the unconscious body of the sea-maiden, loaded it on his rattan raft and rowed shoreward.
Shortly after the Tinggian hero had left the bauwi (native hunt) gates, Tau-Mari-u went out of his
abode to see what the commotion was all about. But he was too late.
In his rage, Tau-mari-u summoned the waves and the tunas of the sea and ordered them to bring
back the intruder. The waves lashed at the raft of the mountain warrior and the tunas pushed it
back.
Alarmed, Aponi-tolau cried out to his mother, Lang-an of Kadalayapan, mistress of the wind and rain,
for help. The great godess heard her son’s plea and immediately sent down strong winds to pull
Aponi-tolau ashore. Despite the fury of the waves and efforts of the tunas, the Tinggian warrior was
able to reach the shore unharmed.
But Tau-mari-u was furious. He immediately called a meeting of the gods and demigods of the
seas and the oceans, who agreed to punish the dwellers of the land for what Aponi-tolau had done.
From the sky, Lang-an knew the plan. She immediately called for the north wind and sent him to
warn her son of the impending flood, she instructed the mountain lord to go to the highest peak of
the Cordillera Mountains for safety. Obediently, Aponi-tolau took the members of his household to
the mountain top and waited. The flood came. From this bauwi Aponi-tolau saw mighty waves
sweeping across the plains, filling the valleys and destroying the crops and working animals of the
inhabitants. Higher and higher went the water until it covered the mountain top but for the few
square meters where Aponi-tolau and his household took shelter.

21
 Frightened, Humitau gave a desperate cry. She knew that she no longer swims or live in the
water after having tasted the mountain food which her husband had given her. The charm removed
her sea powers. She implored Tau-mari-u to save her.
Despite his anger, the water lord took pity upon his favorite Humitau. So he called back the
water and the waves. But he promised that henceforth he would sink men’s boats and drown
passengers until Aponi-tolau’s crime would be appeased. When the water subsided, Aponi-tolau and
his wife went down to the low lands and from them came the people of the world.
http://lehcsirk0literature.blogspot.com/2008/11/great-flood.html

Task/Activity

Exercise: Elements of the Story

Fill the boxes below by the information given in the story

Characters Setting Plot

Conflict Resolution Theme

Moral Lesson

3. Wedding Dance
http://www.seasite.niu.edu/tagalog/Literature/Short%20Stories/Wedding%20Dance.htm

Amador Daguio was born on January 8, 1912 in Laoag, Ilocos Norte. His family moved to
Lubuagan, Mountain Province, where his father was an officer in the Philippine Constabulary.
He graduated with honors in 1924 at the Lubuagan Elementary School as valedictorian. Daguio
was already writing poems in elementary school, according to his own account. He wrote a farewell
verse on a chalkboard at least once for a departing teacher when he was in grade 6. For his high
school studies, he moved to Pasig to attend Rizal High School while residing with his uncle at Fort
William McKinley.
Daguio was too poor to afford his college tuition and did not enroll in the first semester of 1928.
He also failed to qualify for a scholarship. He worked as a houseboy, waiter, and caddy at Fort
McKinley to earn his tuition and later enrolled at the University of the Philippines on the second
semester. He experienced financial difficulties in his studies until an uncle from Honolulu, Hawaii
funded his tuition on his third year of study. Before his uncle's arrival, Daguio has worked as a
printer's devil in his college as well as a writer for the Philippine Collegian.
He was mentored in writing by Tom Inglis Moore, an Australian professor. In 1932, he graduated
from UP as one of the top ten honor graduates. After World War II, he went to Stanford University to
study his masterals in English which he obtained at 1952. And in 1954 he obtained his Law degree
from Romualdez Law College in Leyte.

Wedding Dance
By Amador Daguio

Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the headhigh
threshold. Clinging to the log, he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow
22
door. He slid back the cover, stepped inside, and then pushed the cover back in place. After some
moments during which he seemed to wait, he talked to the listening darkness.
"I'm sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry. But neither of us can help it."
The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls of the dark house like muffled roars of falling
waters. The woman who had moved with a start when the sliding door opened had been hearing the
gangsas for she did not know how long. There was a sudden rush of fire in her. She gave no sign that
she heard Awiyao, but continued to sit unmoving in the darkness.
But Awiyao knew that she heard him and his heart pitied her. He crawled on all fours to the
middle of the room; he knew exactly where the stove was. With bare fingers he stirred the covered
smoldering embers, and blew into the stove. When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces of
pine on them, then full round logs as his arms. The room brightened.
"Why don't you go out," he said, "and join the dancing women?" He felt a pang inside him,
because what he said was really not the right thing to say and because the woman did not stir. "You
should join the dancers," he said, "as if--as if nothing had happened." He looked at the woman
huddled in a corner of the room, leaning against the wall. The stove fire played with strange moving
shadows and lights upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her sullenness was not because of anger
or hate.
"Go out--go out and dance. If you really don't hate me for this separation, go out and dance. One
of the men will see you dance well; he will like your dancing; he will marry you. Who knows but that,
with him, you will be luckier than you were with me."
"I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't want any other man."
He felt relieved that at least she talked: "You know very well that I won't want any other woman
either. You know that, don't you? Lumnay, you know it, don't you?"
She did not answer him.
"You know it Lumnay, don't you?" he repeated.
"Yes, I know," she said weakly.
"It is not my fault," he said, feeling relieved. "You cannot blame me; I have been a good husband
to you."
“Neither can you blame me," she said. She seemed about to cry.
"No, you have been very good to me. You have been a good wife. I have nothing to say against
you." He set some of the burning wood in place. "It's only that a man must have a child. Seven
harvests is just too long to wait. Yes, we have waited too long. We should have another chance
before it is too late for both of us."
This time the woman stirred, stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the
blanket more snugly around herself.
"You know that I have done my best," she said. "I have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have
sacrificed many chickens in my prayers."
"Yes, I know."
"You remember how angry you were once when you came home from your work in the terrace
because I butchered one of our pigs without your permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan, because,
like you, I wanted to have a child. But what could I do?"
"Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child," he said. He stirred the fire. The spark rose
through the crackles of the flames. The smoke and soot went up the ceiling.
Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo
flooring in place. She tugged at the rattan flooring. Each time she did this the split bamboo went up
and came down with a slight rattle. The gong of the dancers clamorously called in her care through
the walls.
Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat, paused before her, looked at her bronzed and
sturdy face, then turned to where the jars of water stood piled one over the other. Awiyao took a
coconut cup and dipped it in the top jar and drank. Lumnay had filled the jars from the mountain
creek early that evening.
"I came home," he said. "Because I did not find you among the dancers. Of course, I am not
forcing you to come, if you don't want to join my wedding ceremony. I came to tell you that
Madulimay, although I am marrying her, can never become as good as you are. She is not as strong
in planting beans, not as fast in cleaning water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You are one
of the best wives in the whole village."
"That has not done me any good, has it?" She said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost
seemed to smile.
He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and came closer to her. He held her face between his
hands and looked longingly at her beauty. But her eyes looked away. Never again would he hold her
face. The next day she would not be his any more. She would go back to her parents. He let go of
her face, and she bent to the floor again and looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the split
bamboo floor.

23
 "This house is yours," he said. "I built it for you. Make it your own, live in it as long as you wish. I
will build another house for Madulimay."
"I have no need for a house," she said slowly. "I'll go to my own house. My parents are old. They
will need help in the planting of the beans, in the pounding of the rice."
"I will give you the field that I dug out of the mountains during the first year of our marriage," he
said. "You know I did it for you. You helped me to make it for the two of us."
"I have no use for any field," she said.
He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a time.
"Go back to the dance," she said finally. "It is not right for you to be here. They will wonder
where you are, and Madulimay will not feel good. Go back to the dance."
"I would feel better if you could come, and dance---for the last time. The gangsas are playing."
"You know that I cannot."
"Lumnay," he said tenderly. "Lumnay, if I did this it is because of my need for a child. You know
that life is not worth living without a child. The men have mocked me behind my back. You know
that."
"I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay."
She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, and sobbed.
She thought of the seven harvests that had passed, the high hopes they had in the beginning of
their new life, the day he took her away from her parents across the roaring river, on the other side
of the mountain, the trip up the trail which they had to climb, the steep canyon which they had to
cross. The waters boiled in her mind in forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the waters tolled
and growled, resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away
now from somewhere on the tops of the other ranges, and they had looked carefully at the
buttresses of rocks they had to step on---a slip would have meant death.
They both drank of the water then rested on the other bank before they made the final climb to
the other side of the mountain.
She looked at his face with the fire playing upon his features---hard and strong, and kind. He had
a sense of lightness in his way of saying things which often made her and the village people laugh.
How proud she had been of his humor. The muscles where taut and firm, bronze and compact in
their hold upon his skull---how frank his bright eyes were. She looked at his body the carved out of
the mountains five fields for her; his wide and supple torso heaved as if a slab of shining lumber were
heaving; his arms and legs flowed down in fluent muscles--he was strong and for that she had lost
him.
She flung herself upon his knees and clung to them. "Awiyao, Awiyao, my husband," she cried. "I
did everything to have a child," she said passionately in a hoarse whisper. "Look at me," she cried.
"Look at my body. Then it was full of promise. It could dance; it could work fast in the fields; it could
climb the mountains fast. Even now it is firm, full. But, Awiyao, I am useless. I must die."
"It will not be right to die," he said, gathering her in his arms. Her whole warm naked naked
breast quivered against his own; she clung now to his neck, and her hand lay upon his right shoulder;
her hair flowed down in cascades of gleaming darkness.
"I don't care about the fields," she said. "I don't care about the house. I don't care for anything
but you. I'll have no other man."
"Then you'll always be fruitless."
"I'll go back to my father, I'll die."
"Then you hate me," he said. "If you die it means you hate me. You do not want me to have a
child. You do not want my name to live on in our tribe."
She was silent.
"If I do not try a second time," he explained, "it means I'll die. Nobody will get the fields I have
carved out of the mountains; nobody will come after me."
"If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder. "No--
no, I don't want you to fail."
"If I fail," he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both of us will die together. Both of us will vanish
from the life of our tribe."
The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and faraway.
"I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me keep my beads," she half-whispered.
"You will keep the beads. They come from far-off times. My grandmother said they come from
up North, from the slant-eyed people across the sea. You keep them, Lumnay. They are worth
twenty fields."
"I'll keep them because they stand for the love you have for me," she said. "I love you. I love you
and have nothing to give."
She took herself away from him, for a voice was calling out to him from outside. "Awiyao!
Awiyao! O Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!"
"I am not in hurry."

24
 "The elders will scold you. You had better go."
"Not until you tell me that it is all right with you."
"It is all right with me."
He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the tribe," he said.
"I know," she said.
He went to the door.
"Awiyao!"
He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. In pain he turned to her. Her face was in agony. It
pained him to leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it that made a man wish for a child?
What was it in life, in the work in the field, in the planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in
the communing with husband and wife, in the whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish for
the laughter and speech of a child? Suppose he changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law
demand, anyway, that a man, to be a man, must have a child to come after him? And if he was
fruitless--but he loved Lumnay. It was like taking away of his life to leave her like this.
"Awiyao," she said, and her eyes seemed to smile in the light. "The beads!" He turned back and
walked to the farthest corner of their room, to the trunk where they kept their worldly possession---
his battle-ax and his spear points, her betel nut box and her beads. He dug out from the darkness the
beads which had been given to him by his grandmother to give to Lumnay on the beads on, and tied
them in place. The white and jade and deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. She suddenly
clung to him, clung to his neck as if she would never let him go.
"Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she closed her eyes and huried her face in his
neck.
The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried out into the night.
Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. Then she went to the door and opened it. The
moonlight struck her face; the moonlight spilled itself on the whole village.
She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other
houses. She knew that all the houses were empty that the whole tribe was at the dance. Only she
was absent. And yet was she not the best dancer of the village? Did she not have the most lightness
and grace? Could she not, alone among all women, dance like a bird tripping for grains on the
ground, beautifully timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men praise her supple body, and
the women envy the way she stretched her hands like the wings of the mountain eagle now and then
as she danced? How long ago did she dance at her own wedding? Tonight, all the women who
counted, who once danced in her honor, were dancing now in honor of another whose only claim
was that perhaps she could give her husband a child.
"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not
right," she said.
Suddenly she found courage. She would go to the dance. She would go to the chief of the village,
to the elders, to tell them it was not right. Awiyao was hers; nobody could take him away from her.
Let her be the first woman to complain, to denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take another
woman. She would tell Awiyao to come back to her. He surely would relent. Was not their love as
strong as the
river?
She made for the other side of the village where the dancing was. There was a flaming glow over
the whole place; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamored more loudly now, and it seemed
they were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The man leaped
lightly with their gangsas as they circled the dancing women decked in feast garments and beads,
tripping on the ground like graceful birds, following their men. Her heart warmed to the flaming call
of the dance; strange heat in her blood welled up, and she started to run. But the gleaming
brightness of the bonfire commanded her to stop. Did anybody see her approach? She stopped.
What if somebody had seen her coming? The flames of the bonfire leaped in countless sparks which
spread and rose like yellow points and died out in the night. The blaze reached out to her like a
spreading radiance. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast.
Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground, away from the village. She thought of the new
clearing of beans which Awiyao and she had started to make only four moons before. She followed
the trail above the village.
When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hand, and the
stream water was very cold. The trail went up again, and she was in the moonlight shadows among
the trees and shrubs. Slowly she climbed the mountain.
When Lumnay reached the clearing, she could see from where she stood the blazing bonfire at
the edge of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-off clamor of the gongs, still
rich in their sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they
seemed to call far to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their
gratitude for her sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.

25
 Lumnay thought of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy
carrying his heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. She had met him one day as
she was on her way to fill her clay jars with water. He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest;
and she had made him drink the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After that it did not
take him long to decide to throw his spear on the stairs of her father's house in token on his desire to
marry her.
The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to stir the leaves of
the bean plants. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to sit down. The bean plants now
surrounded her, and she was lost among them.
A few more weeks, a few more months, a few more harvests---what did it matter? She would be
holding the bean flowers, soft in the texture, silken almost, but moist where the dew got into them,
silver to look at, silver on the light blue, blooming whiteness, when the morning comes. The
stretching of the bean pods full length from the hearts of the wilting petals would go on.

Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.

http://www.seasite.niu.edu/tagalog/Literature/Short%20Stories/Wedding%20Dance.htm

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions:
1. Who was the author of the story?
2. What do you think is the theme of the story?
3. Where did they get married?
4. What was the conflict of the husband and wife?
5. What did Lumnay do to his husband?
6. Do you think Awiyao loves her so much?
7. Who is the second wife of Awiyao?
8. Why did Awiyao married his second wife?
9. If you were Awiyao? Will you do the same?
10. Did Awiyao have a child with Madulimay?

TOPIC 2: REGION 1

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ilocos_Region

The Ilocos Region (Ilocano: Rehion/Deppaar ti Ilocos; Pangasinan: Sagor na Baybay na

Luzon; Tagalog: Rehiyon ng Ilocos) is an administrative region of the Philippines, designated as
Region I, occupying the northwestern section of Luzon. It is bordered by the Cordillera
Administrative Region to the east, the Cagayan Valley to the northeast and southeast, and the
Central Luzon to the south. To the west lies the South China Sea.
The region comprises four provinces: Ilocos Norte, Ilocos Sur, La Union and Pangasinan. Its
regional center is San Fernando, La Union. The 2000 Census reported that the major languages
spoken in the region are Ilocano at 66.36% of the total population at that time, Pangasinan with
27.05%, and Tagalog with 3.21%.

REGION 1 AUTHORS
http://josadera.blogspot.com/2013/10/region-1-authors.html

1. Carlos Bulosan
Carlos Sampayan Bulosan (November 2, 1913 – September 11, 1956) was an English-
language Filipino novelist and poet who spent most of his life in the United States. His best-known
work is the semi-autobiographical Americas is in the house..Carlos Bulosan was born to Ilocano
parents in the Philippines in the rural village of Mangusmana, in the town of Binalonan, Pangasinan.
There is considerable debate around his actual birth date, as he himself used several dates, but 1911
is generally considered the most reliable answer, based on his baptismal records, but according to
the late Lorenzo Duyanen Sampayan, his childhood playmate and nephew, Carlos was born on
November 2, 1913. Most of his youth was spent in the countryside as a farmer. It is during his youth
that he and his family were economically impoverished by the rich and political elite, which would
become one of the main themes of his writing. His home town is also the starting point of his famous
26
semi-autobiographical novel, America is in the Heart.Following the pattern of many Filipinos during
the American colonial period, he left for America on July 22, 1930 at age 17, in the hope of finding
salvation from the economic depression of his home. He never again saw his Philippine homeland.
Upon arriving in Seattle, he met with racism and was forced to work in low paying jobs. He worked as
a farmworker, harvesting grapes and asparagus, and doing other types of hard work in the fields of
California. He also worked as a dishwasher with his brother and Lorenzo in the famous Madonna Inn
in San Luis Obispo. He was active in labour movement along the Pacific coast of the United States
and edited the 1952 Yearbook for International Longshore and Warehouse Union Local 37, a
predominantly Filipino American cannery trade union based in Seattle.
After many years of discrimination, starvation and sickness, Bulosan had to undergo surgery
for tuberculosis in the Los Angeles County Sanitarium, now the USC Medical Center. The tuberculosis
operations made him lose most of the right side of his ribs and the function of one lung. He was
confined in the hospital for two years where he took advantage and read one book per day. He
became a prolific writer and voice concerning for Filipinos and the struggles they were forced to live
in.
His other novels include The Laughter of My Father, which were originally published as short
sketches, and the posthumously published The Cry and the Dedication which detailed the armed Huk
Rebellion in the Philippines. One of his most famous essays was "Freedom from Want,"
commissioned by President Franklin Delano Roosevelt as part of a series on the "Four Freedoms" and
published on March 26, 1943 in the Saturday Evening Post. Maxim Lieber was his literary agent in
1944.
Carlos Bulosan's works and legacy is heralded in a state of the art permanent exhibition
known as 'The Carlos Bulosan Memorial Exhibit" displayed at the historic Eastern Hotel in the heart
of Seattle's International District highlighted with a massive centerpiece mural titled: 'Secrets of
History created by renowned artist Eliseo Art Silva.
Works
 The Laughter of My Father
 The Cry and the Dedication
 My Father's Tragedy

2. F. Sionil José
F. Sionil José or in full Francisco Sionil José (born December 3, 1924) is one of the most
widely-read Filipino writers in the English language. His novels and short stories depict the social
underpinnings of class struggles and colonialism in Filipino society. José's works - written in English -
have been translated into 22 languages, including Korean, Indonesian, Russian, Latvian, Ukrainian
and Dutch.
José was born in Rosales, Pangasinan, the setting of many of his stories. He spent his
childhood in Barrio Cabugawan, Rosales, where he first began to write. José was of Ilocano descent
whose family had migrated to Pangasinan before his birth. Fleeing poverty, his forefathers traveled
from Ilocos towards Cagayan Valley through the Santa Fe Trail. Like many migrant families, they
brought their lifetime possessions with them, including uprooted molave posts of their old houses
and their alsong, a stone mortar for pounding rice.[1][2][3][4]
One of the greatest influences to José was his industrious mother who went out of her way
to get him the books he loved to read, while making sure her family did not go hungry despite
poverty and landlessness. José started writing in grade school, at the time he started reading. In the
fifth grade, one of José’s teachers opened the school library to her students, which is how José
managed to read the novels of José Rizal, Willa Cather’s My Antonia, Faulkner and Steinbeck.
Reading about Basilio and Crispin in Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere made the young José cry, because
injustice was not an alien thing to him. When José was five years old, his grandfather who was a
soldier during the Philippine revolution, had once tearfully showed him the land their family had
once tilled but was taken away by rich mestizo landlords who knew how to work the system against
illiterates like his grandfather.[1]
Sionil José also owns Solidaridad Bookshop, which is on Padre Faura Street in Ermita, Manila.
The bookshop offers mostly hard-to-find books and Filipiniana reading materials. It is said to be one
of the favorite haunts of many local writers.[1][2][3][4]
In his regular column, Hindsight, in The Philippine Star, dated September 12, 2011, he wrote
"Why we are shallow," blaming the decline of Filipino intellectual and cultural standards on a variety
of modern amenities, including media, the education system—particularly the loss of emphasis on
classic literature and the study of Greek and Latin--, and the abundance and immediacy of
information on the internet.
Works
A five-novel series that spans three centuries of Philippine history, translated into 22 languages
 Po-on (Dusk) (1984) ISBN 971-8845-10-0

27
  The Pretenders (1962) ISBN 971-8845-00-3
 My Brother, My Executioner (1973) ISBN 971-8845-16-X
 Mass (December 31, 1974) ISBN 0-86861-572-2
 Tree (1978)

3. Gregorio Taer Affiano

Born: Vigan, Ilocos Sur; November 17, 1934. Fictionist, teacher. He is the son of Esteban
Amano and Olympia Taer. He obtained his education degree from the Philippine College of Arts and
Trades in Manila. He was later granted a scholarship under the Colombo Plan to study in Tokyo,
Japan. He taught at the University of Northern Philippines in Vigan, became principal then chief of
the Education Department if the Ilocos Norte College of Arts and Trade (now a college of Don
Mariano Marcos State University) in Laoag City. He is a member of Gunglo Dagiti Mannurat nga
Ilokano (GUMIL) Laoag, GUMIL Ilocos Norte and GUMIL Filipinas. He is at present a professor and
administrator at the Don Mariano Marcos State University.
Amano began writing in Ilocano in 1957.That same year, his poem “Arado” was published in
Bannawag. Since then, he has published many poems, essays on practical arts, and short stories in
the same magazine. His best-known stories are “Dimo Koma Biroken Ti Kaasida” (Do Not Look For
Their Mercy), “Talna” (Peace), and “Bubon” (Well). Some of his works were anthologized in Tugot
(Foot-prints), edited by Onofrecia I. Ibarra and Hermenegildo A. Viloria and published by GUMIL
Ilocos Sur. A former editor of the Philippine Educational Journal, he has also authorized four popular
books on practical arts. In 1986 he won first prize in the short story writing contest in the Gov Roque
Ablan Awards for Iluko Literature

4. Clemente Alejandria
Born: Canaman, Camarines Sur; November 23, 1895. Poet, playwright. His parents are
Geronimo Alejandria and Victoria Bulocon. He finished his segunda ensenanza (high school) at the
Seminario-Colegio de Nueva Caceres, Naga, later studying again in the Canaman Public School. He
was a member of the writer's organization Sanghiran nin Bikol.
Of his many works, only three poems are said to be extant: “Pagoroaggoyog” (Just Hum to
Yourself), published in Sanghiram, 1927; “Estrella Del Sur” (Star of the South) and “Sa Madaling Osip”
(In Short), which appeared in Bicolnon magazine, 1940. Other poems were published in Kalendariong
Bikol. His plays, now said to be all lost, include Prinsipe Lizardo (Prince Lizardo) and Prinsipe
Fernando (Prinsipe Fernando). Alejandria won second prize in the 1926 poetry contest for his
translation of Jose Rizal's “Mi ultimo adios” (My Last Farewell).

5. Santiago B. Villafania
Santiago B. Villafania is a Pangasinan poet [based in Manila]. He writes in Pangasinan,
Filipino/Tagalog and English. He was born in Tuliao, Sta. Barbara, Pangasinan on January 31, 1971.
Finished a Bachelor of Arts degree Major in English at the University of Pangasinan in 1991. Some of
his poems have appeared in local and international print and web publications. His poetry collection
in Pangasinan language Balikas na Caboloan is among the works published by the National
Commission for the Culture and the Arts (NCCA) under its UBOD New Writers Series (2005).
Villafania advocates for the resurgence of Pangasinan as a literary language. He was
awarded the Writer of the Year (2004) by the Ulupan na Pansiansia'y Salitan
Pangasinan (Association for the Preservation of the Pangasinan Language) and Award of Merit
(2005) by the Association of Writers and Authors for Regional Development (Region I) for his first
book, Pinabli tan arum ni'ran Anlong(Beloved and Other Poems) published in 2003. His second book
of poems, Malagilion: Soniton Pangasinan, is an attempt to open the propylaea of literary
renaissance in Pangasinan. He is currently coming out with a chapbook of his poems in English
titled Murtila.

6. Paul B. Zafaralla
Born on June 22, 1983 in Upon, Pinili, Ilocos Norte. He is a multilingual writer (Iluko, English,
and Filipino) on Ilocano and Philippine culture and the arts for the past 51 years. His outlets
are Bannawag, Rima, Iluko anthologies, lectures, English broadsheets, popular and professional
magazines, journals, and classrooms. He enjoys regional, national and international recognitions for
his incisive and scholarly critiques. The Association of the Philippines gave him a special cognition for
his body of published works in 1971. This was followed by numerous official participations in national
and ASEAN congresses on arts and aesthetics, in many of which as a paper reader. At the University
of the Philippines where he received his degrees (BFA, MAED, Ph. D in Communication), his body of
published works had been duly recognized. The Manila Critics Circle awarded him the 2004 National
Book Award for Rice in the Seven Arts, Sept. 4, 2005. Pinili-Metro Manila Residents Associations, Inc.,
awarded him the Don Ignacio Lafrades Award for Distinguished Achievement, December 9, 2006. Dr.

28
Zafaralla is a member of GUMIL Filipinas; PEN International; Phi Kappa Phi International Honor
Society; and Pi Gamma Mu International Honor Society in the Social Sciences.

7. Jose A. Bragado
Jose A. Bragado was born on 25 August, 1936 in Santa, Ilocos Sur. He took up several
courses in college, including Journalism and English. He has worked as News & Comics Editor and
Literary Editor. He has published in the Bannawag magazine 20 novels, 65 short stories, 50 poems,
170 feature articles and essays, translated 5 novels from Filipino to Iluko; he has alos edited and co-
authored several books. He has published short stories in the Liwayway magazine. He wrote the life
of Gabriela and Diego Silang for Balintataw, a radio program of Cecille Gidote-Alvarez at the DZRH.
The drama ran for one month. He has received various awards for his contributions to Iluko
literature. He was nominated for National Artist for Literature Award in 2003.

8.Reynaldo Arquero Duque

Born on October 29. 1945 in Bagani Ubbog, Candon, Ilocos Sur. He has worked as Managing
Editor of Liwayway magazine. He was also president of Gunglo Dagiti Mannurat nga Ilokano (GUMIL)
Filipinas. Duque writes novels, poetry and short stories in Ilocano, Filipino, and English.
Duque has garnered 63 literary awards in English, Ilocano and Filipino, 8 from the Don Carlos
Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, 2 from the Palihang Aurelio Tolentino, 4 from the Gawad
CCP sa Panitikan, 9 from the Gov. Roque Ablan Awards for Iluko literature, 3 from the Golden Leaf
Literary Awards, 7 from the Talaang Ginto and Gantimpalang Collantes of the Surian ng Wikang
Pambansa, 2 from the Focus Philippines literary contest and Kabataang Barangay Playwriting
Contest, and 2 from the Population Commission Playwriting Contest. He was National Fellow for
Translation, UP Institute of Creative Writing and awarded Outstanding Son of Candon in the field of
literature and journalism.
He has written novels and short stories in comics form which were published in Bannawag,
Bisaya, Yuhum, P.M. News, Balita ng Maynila, and various comics magazines. His many books
include: Ankel Sam, S.O.B. (1991), Centerly, Manong (1986), Dagiti Asin Ti Lasag (The Salt of the
Flesh, 1975), Sika Amin Dagitoy (You Are All of These, 1974), Lumahai (Offering, 1973), Bannawag:
Saanen (Dawn No More, 1972) and Aloha Nui Loa (Aloha My Love, 1972).

9. Onefrecia Ipac Ibarra

Born on 21 July 1939 in Pacis, Sinait, Ilocos Sur. Onefrecia Ipac Ibarra has a BSEE (cum
laude), M.A. in Education, and Ph.D. in Bilingual Education degrees, and received a number of
scholarships given by both government and private agencies. She has served in various capacities as
professor and faculty member of the Mariano Marcos State University, and became the first teacher
of Ilokano literature to postgraduate students in the country. Her numerous short stories, essays,
drama, and poems were published in Bannawag, Sirmata, Ani 7, Tobacco Farmers, Pluma, Siit,
Talged, and GUMIL Sinait. She received the prestigious Leona Florentino award from GUMIL Filipinas
on 27 April 2002, and retired as professor V from the MMSU College of Education in the same year.

10. Abdon M. Balde Jr.

Abdon M. Balde, Jr. is an award-winning Filipino novelist. He has written and published
short stories, poems and novels in English, Tagalog and the languages of Bicol. Balde finished a
degree in civil engineering and worked as a construction engineer for thirty-three years, after which
he retired to pursue a career as an author. His writer career bloomed and critics noted his unique
raw talent. He concentrated in writing creative short stories, poems and novels. He received his first
literary award in 2003 and has since continued to win acclaim for his work.
Today, he is a councilor of the organization Lupon Sa Wika, a member of the National
Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) and director of the Unyon ng mga Manunulat sa
Pilipinas .Born on a military base in the Philippines, Lou Diamond Philips rose to fame with a series of
hit films in the late 1980s, inlcuding La Bamba, Stand and Deliver, and Young Guns. After a few flops
in the early 1990s, Philips earned a Tony nomination for his work in The King and I on Broadway. He
continues to make television appearances,

Early Life
Actor Lou Diamond Phillips was born February 17, 1962, on the Subic Bay Naval Station in the
Philippines to Lucita Aranas and American naval officer Gerald Upchurch. The young actor was
eventually adopted by his mother's second husband, taking his stepfather's surname Phillips. Though
he was raised in small-town Texas, Lou Diamond Phillips had stars in his eyes from a young age.
Passing up the opportunity to go to Yale, he instead chose to attend the local University of Texas at
Arlington where he got his Bachelor's in Fine Arts degree in drama. He was active in drama club

29
productions and a local comedy troupe. Eager to break out of the small town drama scene, Phillips
capitalized on whatever opportunities came his way. The up-and-comer would often go to great
lengths to meet idols (like Robert DeNiro) when they passed through nearby Dallas.

1. Malinak Lay Labi https://literarycompilationbyrejean.weebly.com/region-i.html

2. Malinak Lay Labi(Pangasinan Malinak Lay Labi(English Version)The night is

Version)Malinak lay labi, Oras lay calm and quiet, the hour stands still.Slowly flows
mareenMapalpalnay dagem, Katekep toy the breeze, and dewdrops gently fall.‘Midst
linaewSamit day kugip ko, Binangonan sweetness in my dreams, I awoke in hurried
kon tampolLapud say linggas mo, Sikan- joy.And in your loveliness, it’s you alone in my
sikay amamayoenRefrain:Lalo la bilay no embrace.Especially my dear, when you are held
sika lay nanengnengNapunas lan amin so in my eyes.All sadness in my heart, they all but
ermin kon akbibitenNo nanonotan ko lay disappear.When I think of all your ways, so
samit day ugalimAgtaka nalingwanan sweet and gentle.Never, ever have I forgotten,
anggad kaoyos na bilay.Repeat refrain. until the last breath of my life.

Task/Activity
Informal Essay Rubric:
In a separate sheet of paper give your CRITERIA Percentage
insight about the poem. Discuss Quality of Writing 50%
briefly. Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
100%

3. Morning in Nagrebcan
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/13770480.Manuel_E_Arguilla
MANUEL E. ARGUILLA (1911-1944) was an Ilocano who wrote in English. He was best known for his
short story "How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife." which received first price in the
Commonwealth Literary Contest in 1940.
Most of his stories depict life in Barrio Nagrebcan, Bauang, La Union, where he was born in 1911. He
earned his Bachelor of Arts in Education in 1933 at the University of the Philippines. He became a member
and later the president of the UP Writers' Club and editor of the Literary Apprentice. He married Lydia
Villanueva, another talented writer, and they lived in Ermita, Manila.
Arguilla taught creative writing at the University of Manila and worked in the Bureau of Public
Welfare as managing editor of the Welfare Advocate until 1943; afterwards, he was elected to the Board
of Censors. He secretly established a guerilla intelligence unit against the Japanese during World War II. In
August 1944, Manuel Arguilla was captured and executed by the Japanese.
https://philippinelit.wordpress.com/2013/03/25/morning-in-nagrebcan-by-manuel-e-arguilla/

Morning in Nagrebcan
By Manuel E. Arguilla
It was sunrise at Nagrebcan. The fine, bluish mist, low over the tobacco fields, was lifting and
thinning moment by moment. A ragged strip of mist, pulled away by the morning breeze, had caught on
the clumps of bamboo along the banks of the stream that flowed to one side of the barrio. Before long
the sun would top the Katayaghan hills, but as yet no people were around. In the grey shadow of the hills,
the barrio was gradually awaking. Roosters crowed and strutted on the ground while hens hesitated on
their perches among the branches of the camanchile trees. Stray goats nibbled the weeds on the sides of
the road, and the bull carabaos tugged restively against their stakes.
In the early morning the puppies lay curled up together between their mother’s paws under the
ladder of the house. Four puppies were all white like the mother. They had pink noses and pink eyelids
and pink mouths. The skin between their toes and on the inside of their large, limp ears was pink. They
had short sleek hair, for the mother licked them often. The fifth puppy lay across the mother’s neck. On

30
the puppy’s back was a big black spot like a saddle. The tips of its ears were black and so was a patch of
hair on its chest.
The opening of the sawali door, its uneven bottom dragging noisily against the bamboo flooring,
aroused the mother dog and she got up and stretched and shook herself, scattering dust and loose white
hair. A rank doggy smell rose in the cool morning air. She took a quick leap forward, clearing the puppies
which had begun to whine about her, wanting to suckle. She trotted away and disappeared beyond the
house of a neighbor.
The puppies sat back on their rumps, whining. After a little while they lay down and went back to
sleep, the black-spotted puppy on top. Baldo stood at the threshold and rubbed his sleep-heavy eyes with
his fists. He must have been about ten years old, small for his age, but compactly built, and he stood
straight on his bony legs. He wore one of his father’s discarded cotton undershirts.
The boy descended the ladder, leaning heavily on the single bamboo railing that served as a
banister. He sat on the lowest step of the ladder, yawning and rubbing his eyes one after the other.
Bending down, he reached between his legs for the black-spotted puppy. He held it to him, stroking its
soft, warm body. He blew on its nose. The puppy stuck out a small red tongue, lapping the air. It whined
eagerly. Baldo laughed – a low gurgle.
He rubbed his face against that of the dog. He said softly, “My puppy. My puppy.” He said it many
times. The puppy licked his ears, his cheeks. When it licked his mouth, Baldo straightened up, raised the
puppy on a level with his eyes. “You are a foolish puppy,” he said, laughing. “Foolish, foolish, foolish,” he
said, rolling the puppy on his lap so that it howled.
The four other puppies awoke and came scrambling about Baldo’s legs. He put down the black-
spotted puppy and ran to the narrow foot bridge of woven split-bamboo spanning the roadside ditch.
When it rained, water from the roadway flowed under the makeshift bridge, but it had not rained for a
long time and the ground was dry and sandy. Baldo sat on the bridge, digging his bare feet into the sand,
feeling the cool particles escaping between his toes. He whistled, a toneless whistle with a curious trilling
to it produced by placing the tongue against the lower teeth and then curving it up and down.
The whistle excited the puppies; they ran to the boy as fast as their unsteady legs could carry them,
barking choppy little barks.
Nana Elang, the mother of Baldo, now appeared in the doorway with handful of rice straw. She
called Baldo and told him to get some live coals from their neighbor.
“Get two or three burning coals and bring them home on the rice straw,” she said. “Do not wave the
straw in the wind. If you do, it will catch fire before you get home.” She watched him run toward Ka Ikao’s
house where already smoke was rising through the nipa roofing into the misty air. One or two empty
carromatas drawn by sleepy little ponies rattled along the pebbly street, bound for the railroad station.
Nana Elang must have been thirty, but she looked at least fifty. She was a thin, wispy woman, with
bony hands and arms. She had scanty, straight, graying hair which she gathered behind her head in a
small, tight knot. It made her look thinner than ever. Her cheekbones seemed on the point of bursting
through the dry, yellowish-brown skin. Above a gray-checkered skirt, she wore a single wide-sleeved
cotton blouse that ended below her flat breasts. Sometimes when she stooped or reached up for
anything, a glimpse of the flesh at her waist showed in a dark, purplish band where the skirt had been tied
so often.
She turned from the doorway into the small, untidy kitchen. She washed the rice and put it in a pot
which she placed on the cold stove. She made ready the other pot for the mess of vegetables and dried
fish. When Baldo came back with the rice straw and burning coals, she told him to start a fire in the stove,
while she cut the ampalaya tendrils and sliced the eggplants. When the fire finally flamed inside the clay
stove, Baldo’s eyes were smarting from the smoke of the rice straw.
“There is the fire, mother,” he said. “Is father awake already?”
Nana Elang shook her head. Baldo went out slowly on tiptoe.
There were already many people going out. Several fishermen wearing coffee-colored shirts and
trousers and hats made from the shell of white pumpkins passed by. The smoke of their home-made
cigars floated behind them like shreds of the morning mist. Women carrying big empty baskets were
going to the tobacco fields. They walked fast, talking among themselves. Each woman had gathered the
loose folds of her skirt in front and, twisting the end two or three times, passed it between her legs,
pulling it up at the back, and slipping it inside her waist. The women seemed to be wearing trousers that
reached only to their knees and flared at the thighs.
Day was quickly growing older. The east flamed redly and Baldo called to his mother, “Look, mother,
God also cooks his breakfast.”
He went to play with the puppies. He sat on the bridge and took them on his lap one by one. He
searched for fleas which he crushed between his thumbnails. “You, puppy. You, puppy,” he murmured
softly. When he held the black-spotted puppy, he said, “My puppy. My puppy.”
Ambo, his seven-year old brother, awoke crying. Nana Elang could be heard patiently calling him to
the kitchen. Later he came down with a ripe banana in his hand. Ambo was almost as tall as his older
brother and he had stout husky legs. Baldo often called him the son of an Igorot. The home-made cotton
shirt he wore was variously stained. The pocket was torn, and it flipped down. He ate the banana without
peeling it.
“You foolish boy, remove the skin,” Baldo said.

31
 “I will not,” Ambo said. “It is not your banana.” He took a big bite and swallowed it with exaggerated
relish.
“But the skin is tart. It tastes bad.”
“You are not eating it,” Ambo said. The rest of the banana vanished in his mouth.
He sat beside Baldo and both played with the puppies. The mother dog had not yet returned and the
puppies were becoming hungry and restless. They sniffed the hands of Ambo, licked his fingers. They tried
to scramble up his breast to lick his mouth, but he brushed them down. Baldo laughed. He held the black-
spotted puppy closely, fondled it lovingly. “My puppy,” he said. “My puppy.”
Ambo played with the other puppies, but he soon grew tired of them. He wanted the black-spotted
one. He sidled close to Baldo and put out a hand to caress the puppy nestling contentedly in the crook of
his brother’s arm. But Baldo struck the hand away. “Don’t touch my puppy,” he said. “My puppy.”
Ambo begged to be allowed to hold the black-spotted puppy. But Baldo said he would not let him
hold the black-spotted puppy because he would not peel the banana. Ambo then said that he would obey
his older brother next time, for all time. Baldo would not believe him; he refused to let him touch the
puppy.
Ambo rose to his feet. He looked longingly at the black-spotted puppy in Baldo’s arms. Suddenly he
bent down and tried to snatch the puppy away. But Baldo sent him sprawling in the dust with a deft push.
Ambo did not cry. He came up with a fistful of sand which he flung in his brother’s face. But as he started
to run away, Baldo thrust out his leg and tripped him. In complete silence, Ambo slowly got up from the
dust, getting to his feet with both hands full of sand which again he cast at his older brother. Baldo put
down the puppy and leaped upon Ambo.
Seeing the black-spotted puppy waddling away, Ambo turned around and made a dive for it. Baldo
saw his intention in time and both fell on the puppy which began to howl loudly, struggling to get away.
Baldo cursed Ambo and screamed at him as they grappled and rolled in the sand. Ambo kicked and bit
and scratched without a sound. He got hold of Baldo’s hair and ear and tugged with all his might. They
rolled over and over and then Baldo was sitting on Ambo’s back, pummeling him with his fists. He
accompanied every blow with a curse. “I hope you die, you little demon,” he said between sobs, for he
was crying and he could hardly see. Ambo wriggled and struggled and tried to bite Baldo’s legs. Failing, he
buried his face in the sand and howled lustily.
Baldo now left him and ran to the black-spotted puppy which he caught up in his arms, holding it
against his throat. Ambo followed, crying out threats and curses. He grabbed the tail of the puppy and
jerked hard. The puppy howled shrilly and Baldo let it go, but Ambo kept hold of the tail as the dog fell to
the ground. It turned around and snapped at the hand holding its tail. Its sharp little teeth sank into the
fleshy edge of Ambo’s palm. With a cry, Ambo snatched away his hand from the mouth of the enraged
puppy. At that moment the window of the house facing the street was pushed violently open and the
boys’ father, Tang Ciaco, looked out. He saw the blood from the toothmarks on Ambo’s hand. He called
out inarticulately and the two brothers looked up in surprise and fear. Ambo hid his bitten hand behind
him. Baldo stopped to pick up the black-spotted puppy, but Tang Ciaco shouted hoarsely to him not to
touch the dog. At Tang Ciaco’s angry voice, the puppy had crouched back snarling, its pink lips drawn
back, the hair on its back rising. “The dog has gone mad,” the man cried, coming down hurriedly. By the
stove in the kitchen, he stopped to get a sizeable piece of firewood, throwing an angry look and a curse at
Nana Elang for letting her sons play with the dogs. He removed a splinter or two, then hurried down the
ladder, cursing in a loud angry voice. Nana Elang ran to the doorway and stood there silently fingering her
skirt.
Baldo and Ambo awaited the coming of their father with fear written on their faces. Baldo hated his
father as much as he feared him. He watched him now with half a mind to flee as Tang Ciaco approached
with the piece of firewood held firmly in one hand. He is a big, gaunt man with thick bony wrists and
stoop shoulders. A short-sleeved cotton shirt revealed his sinewy arms on which the blood-vessels stood
out like roots. His short pants showed his bony-kneed, hard-muscled legs covered with black hair. He was
a carpenter. He had come home drunk the night before. He was not a habitual drunkard, but now and
then he drank great quantities of basi and came home and beat his wife and children. He would blame
them for their hard life and poverty. “You are a prostitute,” he would roar at his wife, and as he beat his
children, he would shout, “I will kill you both, you bastards.” If Nana Elang ventured to remonstrate, he
would beat them harder and curse her for being an interfering whore. “I am king in my house,” he would
say.
Now as he approached the two, Ambo cowered behind his elder brother. He held onto Baldo’s
undershirt, keeping his wounded hand at his back, unable to remove his gaze from his father’s close-set,
red-specked eyes. The puppy with a yelp slunk between Baldo’s legs. Baldo looked at the dog, avoiding his
father’s eyes.
Tang Ciaco roared at them to get away from the dog: “Fools! Don’t you see it is mad?” Baldo laid a
hand on Ambo as they moved back hastily. He wanted to tell his father it was not true, the dog was not
mad, it was all Ambo’s fault, but his tongue refused to move. The puppy attempted to follow them, but
Tang Ciaco caught it with a sweeping blow of the piece of firewood. The puppy was flung into the air. It
rolled over once before it fell, howling weakly. Again the chunk of firewood descended, Tang Ciaco
grunting with the effort he put into the blow, and the puppy ceased to howl. It lay on its side, feebly
moving its jaws from which dark blood oozed. Once more Tang Ciaco raised his arm, but Baldo suddenly

32
clung to it with both hands and begged him to stop. “Enough, father, enough. Don’t beat it anymore,” he
entreated. Tears flowed down his upraised face. Tang Ciaco shook him off with an oath. Baldo fell on his
face in the dust. He did not rise, but cried and sobbed and tore his hair. The rays of the rising sun fell
brightly upon him, turned to gold the dust that he raised with his kicking feet.
Tang Ciaco dealt the battered puppy another blow and at last it lay limpy still. He kicked it over and
watched for a sign of life. The puppy did not move where it lay twisted on its side.
He turned his attention to Baldo.
“Get up,” he said, hoarsely, pushing the boy with his foot.
Baldo was deaf. He went on crying and kicking in the dust. Tang Ciaco struck him with the piece of
wood in his hand and again told him to get up. Baldo writhed and cried harder, clasping his hands over the
back of his head. Tang Ciaco took hold of one of the boy’s arms and jerked him to his feet. Then he began
to beat him, regardless of where the blows fell.
Baldo encircled his head with his loose arm and strove to free himself, running around his father,
plunging backward, ducking and twisting. “Shameless son of a whore,” Tang Ciaco roared. “Stand still, I’ll
teach you to obey me.” He shortened his grip on the arm of Baldo and laid on his blows. Baldo fell to his
knees, screaming for mercy. He called on his mother to help him.
Nana Elang came down, but she hesitated at the foot of the ladder. Ambo ran to her. “You too,”
Tang Ciaco cried, and struck at the fleeing Ambo. The piece of firewood caught him behind the knees and
he fell on his face. Nana Elang ran to the fallen boy and picked him up, brushing his clothes with her hands
to shake off the dust. Tang Ciaco pushed Baldo toward her. The boy tottered forward weakly, dazed and
trembling. He had ceased to cry aloud, but he shook with hard, spasmodic sobs which he tried vainly to
stop.
“Here take your child,” Tang Ciaco said, thickly.
He faced the curious students and neighbors who had gathered by the side of the road. He yelled at
them to go away. He said it was none of their business if he killed his children.
“They are mine,” he shouted. “I feed them and I can do anything I like with them.”
The students ran hastily to school. The neighbors returned to their work.
Tang Ciaco went to the house, cursing in a loud voice. Passing the dead puppy, he picked it up by its
hind legs and flung it away. The black and white body soared through the sunlit air; fell among the tall
corn behind the house. Tang Ciaco, still cursing and grumbling, strode upstairs. He threw the chunk of
firewood beside the stove. He squatted by the low table and began eating the breakfast his wife had
prepared for him.
Nana Elang knelt by her children and dusted their clothes. She passed her hand over the red welts
on Baldo, but Baldo shook himself away. He was still trying to stop sobbing, wiping his tears away with his
forearm. Nana Elang put one arm around Ambo. She sucked the wound in his hand. She was crying
silently.
When the mother of the puppies returned, she licked the remaining four by the small bridge of
woven split bamboo. She lay down in the dust and suckled her young. She did not seem to miss the black-
spotted puppy.
Afterward Baldo and Ambo searched among the tall corn for the body of the dead puppy. Tang
Ciaco had gone to work and would not be back till nightfall. In the house, Nana Elang was busy washing
the breakfast dishes. Later she came down and fed the mother dog. The two brothers were entirely
hidden by the tall corn plants. As they moved about among the slender stalks, the corn-flowers shook
agitatedly. Pollen scattered like gold dust in the sun, falling on the fuzzy· green leaves.
When they found the dead dog, they buried it in one corner of the field. Baldo dug the grove with a
sharp-pointed stake. Ambo stood silently by, holding the dead puppy.
When Baldo finished his work, he and his brother gently placed the puppy in the hole. Then they
covered the dog with soft earth and stamped on the grave until the disturbed ground was flat and hard
again. With difficulty they rolled a big stone on top of the grave. Then Baldo wound an arm around the
shoulders of Ambo and without a word they hurried up to the house.
The sun had risen high above the Katayaghan hills, and warm, golden sunlight filled Nagrebcan. The
mist on the tobacco fields had completely dissolved.

Task/Activity
Answer the Table below

TEXT MEANING / SIGNIFICANCE

1. SUN (The author makes use of the sun in the first and last
sentence. Discuss the significance of opening and closing the story
with sunlight.)
2. EXPLETIVES (Explain the relationship of the father to his family
based on his actions and use of curses such as “WHORE”.
3. DOG AND HER PUPPIES (discuss their function in the story and
meaning of: “She lay down and suckled her young. She did not
seem to miss the black-spotted puppy.”)
4. TWO BROTHERS (explain why after their violent quarrel, they
33
 buried the dead puppy and “then Baldo placed an arm around the
shoulders of Ambo…”
5. TITLE (significance of this morning in: the peasant’s life, the
silence pervading the characters, etc.)

4. How my Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife

https://literaryanalysisphillit.weebly.com/how-my-brother-leon-brought-home-a-wife.html#:~:text= Written
%20by%20Manuel%20Arguilla%2C%20%22How,to%20his%20more%20provincial%20family.&text=To
%20summarize%20the%20story%2C%20Baldo,lovely%2C%20tall%2C%20and%20beautiful.

HOW MY BROTHER LEON BROUGHT HOME A WIFE

MANUEL E. ARGUILLA

She stepped down from the carretela of Ca Celin with a quick, delicate grace. She was lovely. SHe
was tall. She looked up to my brother with a smile, and her forehead was on a level with his mouth.
"You are Baldo," she said and placed her hand lightly on my shoulder. Her nails were long, but they
were not painted. She was fragrant like a morning when papayas are in bloom. And a small dimple
appeared momently high on her right cheek. "And this is Labang of whom I have heard so much." She
held the wrist of one hand with the other and looked at Labang, and Labang never stopped chewing his
cud. He swallowed and brought up to his mouth more cud and the sound of his insides was like a drum.
I laid a hand on Labang's massive neck and said to her: "You may scratch his forehead now."
She hesitated and I saw that her eyes were on the long, curving horns. But she came and touched
Labang's forehead with her long fingers, and Labang never stopped chewing his cud except that his big
eyes half closed. And by and by she was scratching his forehead very daintily.
My brother Leon put down the two trunks on the grassy side of the road. He paid Ca Celin twice the
usual fare from the station to the edge of Nagrebcan. Then he was standing beside us, and she turned to
him eagerly. I watched Ca Celin, where he stood in front of his horse, and he ran his fingers through its
forelock and could not keep his eyes away from her.
"Maria---" my brother Leon said.
He did not say Maring. He did not say Mayang. I knew then that he had always called her Maria
and that to us all she would be Maria; and in my mind I said 'Maria' and it was a beautiful name.
"Yes, Noel."
Now where did she get that name? I pondered the matter quietly to myself, thinking Father might
not like it. But it was only the name of my brother Leon said backward and it sounded much better that
way.
"There is Nagrebcan, Maria," my brother Leon said, gesturing widely toward the west.
She moved close to him and slipped her arm through his. And after a while she said quietly.
"You love Nagrebcan, don't you, Noel?"
Ca Celin drove away hi-yi-ing to his horse loudly. At the bend of the camino real where the big
duhat tree grew, he rattled the handle of his braided rattan whip against the spokes of the wheel.
We stood alone on the roadside.
The sun was in our eyes, for it was dipping into the bright sea. The sky was wide and deep and
very blue above us: but along the saw-tooth rim of the Katayaghan hills to the southwest flamed huge
masses of clouds. Before us the fields swam in a golden haze through which floated big purple and red
and yellow bubbles when I looked at the sinking sun. Labang's white coat, which I had wshed and brushed
that morning with coconut husk, glistened like beaten cotton under the lamplight and his horns appeared
tipped with fire.
He faced the sun and from his mouth came a call so loud and vibrant that the earth seemed to
tremble underfoot. And far away in the middle of the field a cow lowed softly in answer.
"Hitch him to the cart, Baldo," my brother Leon said, laughing, and she laughed with him a big
uncertainly, and I saw that he had put his arm around her shoulders.
"Why does he make that sound?" she asked. "I have never heard the like of it."
"There is not another like it," my brother Leon said. "I have yet to hear another bull call like
Labang. In all the world there is no other bull like him."
She was smiling at him, and I stopped in the act of tying the sinta across Labang's neck to the
opposite end of the yoke, because her teeth were very white, her eyes were so full of laughter, and there
was the small dimple high up on her right cheek.
"If you continue to talk about him like that, either I shall fall in love with him or become greatly
jealous."
My brother Leon laughed and she laughed and they looked at each other and it seemed to me
there was a world of laughter between them and in them. I climbed into the cart over the wheel and
Labang would have bolted, for he was always like that, but I kept a firm hold on his rope. He was restless
and would not stand still, so that my brother Leon had to say "Labang" several times. When he was quiet
again, my brother Leon lifted the trunks into the cart, placing the smaller on top.
She looked down once at her high-heeled shoes, then she gave her left hand to my brother Leon,

34
placed a foot on the hub of the wheel, and in one breath she had swung up into the cart. Oh, the
fragrance of her. But Labang was fairly dancing with impatience and it was all I could do to keep him from
running away.
"Give me the rope, Baldo," my brother Leon said. "Maria, sit down on the hay and hold on to
anything." Then he put a foot on the left shaft and that instand labang leaped forward. My brother Leon
laughed as he drew himself up to the top of the side of the cart and made the slack of the rope hiss above
the back of labang. The wind whistled against my cheeks and the rattling of the wheels on the pebbly road
echoed in my ears.
She sat up straight on the bottom of the cart, legs bent togther to one side, her skirts spread over
them so that only the toes and heels of her shoes were visible. her eyes were on my brother Leon's back; I
saw the wind on her hair. When Labang slowed down, my brother Leon handed to me the rope. I knelt on
the straw inside the cart and pulled on the rope until Labang was merely shuffling along, then I made him
turn around.
"What is it you have forgotten now, Baldo?" my brother Leon said.
I did not say anything but tickled with my fingers the rump of Labang; and away we went---back
to where I had unhitched and waited for them. The sun had sunk and down from the wooded sides of the
Katayaghan hills shadows were stealing into the fields. High up overhead the sky burned with many slow
fires.
When I sent Labang down the deep cut that would take us to the dry bed of the Waig which could
be used as a path to our place during the dry season, my brother Leon laid a hand on my shoulder and
said sternly:
"Who told you to drive through the fields tonight?"
His hand was heavy on my shoulder, but I did not look at him or utter a word until we were on the
rocky bottom of the Waig.
"Baldo, you fool, answer me before I lay the rope of Labang on you. Why do you follow the Wait
instead of the camino real?"
His fingers bit into my shoulder.
"Father, he told me to follow the Waig tonight, Manong."
Swiftly, his hand fell away from my shoulder and he reached for the rope of Labang. Then my
brother Leon laughed, and he sat back, and laughing still, he said:
"And I suppose Father also told you to hitch Labang to the cart and meet us with him instead of with
Castano and the calesa."
Without waiting for me to answer, he turned to her and said, "Maria, why do you think Father
should do that, now?" He laughed and added, "Have you ever seen so many stars before?"
I looked back and they were sitting side by side, leaning against the trunks, hands clasped across
knees. Seemingly, but a man's height above the tops of the steep banks of the Wait, hung the stars. But in
the deep gorge the shadows had fallen heavily, and even the white of Labang's coat was merely a dim,
grayish blur. Crickets chirped from their homes in the cracks in the banks. The thick, unpleasant smell of
dangla bushes and cooling sun-heated earth mingled with the clean, sharp scent of arrais roots exposed
to the night air and of the hay inside the cart.
"Look, Noel, yonder is our star!" Deep surprise and gladness were in her voice. Very low in the west,
almost touching the ragged edge of the bank, was the star, the biggest and brightest in the sky.
"I have been looking at it," my brother Leon said. "Do you remember how I would tell you that
when you want to see stars you must come to Nagrebcan?"
"Yes, Noel," she said. "Look at it," she murmured, half to herself. "It is so many times bigger and
brighter than it was at Ermita beach."
"The air here is clean, free of dust and smoke."
"So it is, Noel," she said, drawing a long breath.
"Making fun of me, Maria?"
She laughed then and they laughed together and she took my Brother Leon's hand and put it against
her face.
I stopped Labang, climbed down, and lighted the lantern that hung from the cart between the
wheels.
"Good boy, Baldo," my brother Leon said as I climbed back into the cart, and my heart sant.
Now the shadows took fright and did not crowd so near. Clumps of andadasi and arrais flashed into
view and quickly disappeared as we passed by. Ahead, the elongated shadow of Labang bobbled up and
down and swayed drunkenly from side to side, for the lantern rocked jerkily with the cart.
"Have we far to go yet, Noel?" she asked.
"Ask Baldo," my brother Leon said, "we have been neglecting him."
"I am asking you, Baldo," she said.
Without looking back, I answered, picking my words slowly:
"Soon we will get out of the Wait and pass into the fields. After the fields is home---Manong."
"So near already."
I did not say anything more because I did not know what to make of the tone of her voice as she said
her last words. All the laughter seemed to have gone out of her. I waited for my brother Leon to say
something, but he was not saying anything. Suddenly he broke out into song and the song was 'Sky Sown

35
with Stars'---the same that he and Father sang when we cut hay in the fields at night before he went away
to study. He must have taught her the song because she joined him, and her voice flowed into his like a
gentle stream meeting a stronger one. And each time the wheels encountered a big rock, her voice would
catch in her throat, but my brother Leon would sing on, until, laughing softly, she would join him again.
Then we were climbing out into the fields, and through the spokes of the wheels the light of the lantern
mocked the shadows. Labang quickened his steps. The jolting became more frequent and painful as we
crossed the low dikes.
"But it is so very wide here," she said. The light of the stars broke and scattered the darkness so that
one could see far on every side, though indistinctly.
"You miss the houses, and the cars, and the people and the noise, don't you?" My brother Leon
stopped singing.
"Yes, but in a different way. I am glad they are not here."
With difficulty I turned Labang to the left, for he wanted to go straight on. He was breathing hard, but
I knew he was more thirsty than tired. In a little while we drope up the grassy side onto the camino real.
"---you see," my brother Leon was explaining, "The camino real curves around the foot of the
Katayaghan hills and passes by our house. We drove through the fields because---but I'll be asking Father
as soon as we get home."
"Noel," she said.
"Yes, Maria."
"I am afraid. He may not like me."
"Does that worry you still, Maria?" my brother Leon said. "From the way you talk, he might be an
ogre, for all the world. Except when his leg that was wounded in the Revolution is troubling him, Father is
the mildest-tempered, gentlest man I know."
We came to the house of Lacay Julian and I spoke to Labang loudly, but Moning did not come to the
window, so I surmised she must be eating with the rest of her family. And I thought of the food being
made ready at home and my mouth watered. We met the twins, Urong and Celin, and I said "Hoy!" calling
them by name. And they shouted back and asked if my brother Leon and his wife were with me. And my
brother Leon shouted to them and then told me to make Labang run; their answers were lost in the noise
of the wheels.
I stopped labang on the road before our house and would have gotten down but my brother Leon
took the rope and told me to stay in the cart. He turned Labang into the open gate and we dashed into
our yard. I thought we would crash into the camachile tree, but my brother Leon reined in Labang in time.
There was light downstairs in the kitchen, and Mother stood in the doorway, and I could see her smiling
shyly. My brother Leon was helping Maria over the wheel. The first words that fell from his lips after he
had kissed Mother's hand were:
"Father... where is he?"
"He is in his room upstairs," Mother said, her face becoming serious. "His leg is bothering him again."
I did not hear anything more because I had to go back to the cart to unhitch Labang. But I hardly tied
him under the barn when I heard Father calling me. I met my brother Leon going to bring up the trunks.
As I passed through the kitchen, there were Mother and my sister Aurelia and Maria and it seemed to me
they were crying, all of them. There was no light in Father's room. There was no movement. He sat in the
big armchair by the western window, and a star shone directly through it. He was smoking, but he
removed the roll of tobacco from his mouth when he saw me. He laid it carefully on the windowsill before
speaking.
"Did you meet anybody on the way?" he asked.
"No, Father," I said. "Nobody passes through the Waig at night."
He reached for his role of tobacco and hitched himself up in the chair.
"She is very beautiful, Father."
"Was she afraid of Labang?" My father had not raised his voice, but the room seemed to resound
with it. And again I saw her eyes on the long curving horns and the arm of my brother Leon around her
shoulders.
"No, Father, she was not afraid."
"On the way---"
"She looked at the stars, Father. And Manong Leon sang."
"What did he sing?"
"---Sky Sown with Stars... She sang with him."
He was silent again. I could hear the low voices of Mother and my sister Aurelia downstairs. There
was also the voice of my brother Leon, and I thought that Father's voice must have been like it when
Father was young. He had laid the roll of tobacco on the windowsill once more. I watched the smoke
waver faintly upward from the lighted end and vanish slowly into the night outside. The door opened and
my brother Leon and Maria came in.
"Have you watered Labang?" Father spoke to me.
I told him that Labang was resting yet under the barn.
"It is time you watered him, my son," my father said.

36
 I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall. Beside my brother Leon, she was tall and very still.
Then I went out, and in the darkened hall the fragrance of her was like a morning when papayas are in
bloom.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions and shade the circle that corresponds to your answer.

1. The main setting of the story took place in NAGREBCAN which is located in

o Pangasinan o La Union
o Bicol o Ilocos Sur

2. He was the the Character in the story, “How my brother Leon brought Home a Wife" who
narrates his observations.

o Leon o Baldo
o Maria o Father

3. He was the character in the story who was sent to Manila to study yet went home with a
wife.

o Leon o Baldo
o Maria o Labang

4. He was the bull that the characters rode on and brought them to their father's house.

o Diego o Labang
o Pedrico o Segundo

5. These are the themes of the story except:

o Giving of importance to the reputation of women.
o Entering a relationship is not an easy thing, it requires many aspect to consider.
So it is better to plan for it rather than rush things.
o City girls and boys are better than those who live in the barrio
o Acceptance and sacrifice mean, risking everything for the one you love despite
your differences in status, belief, and orientations in life.
6. He was the Author of the story

o Amador Daguio o Jose Marie Chan

o F.Sionil Jose o Manuel E. Argilla

7. This was the tree which was described to have grown big at Camino real in the story

o Narra Tree o Guava Tree

o Kamyas Tree o Duhat Tree

8. These are the conflicts in the story except;

o Leon's father. He does not believe Maria can cope with living in a province after
growing up in a city
o Leon's is thinking of the possible reactions of his parents when he tells them
that he will no longer study in the city for he already had a wife
o Maria is afraid that he might not be accepted or be likened by Nole's parents
o Maria doesn't like to live in the province or barrio
9. This was the song Noel and Maria sang when they were traveling home which was first
taught to noel by his father.

o Im all out of Love o Sky Sown with Stars

o Moon River o Bluer than Blue

10. This was the metaphor Baldo used for Maria

37
 o She was so annoying, a pest in the field who consumes crops
o She was Tall and Lovely and the fragrance of her was like a morning when
papayas are in bloom
o she was the stars in the night sky shining bright like a diamond
o she was the universe for everyone in Nagrebcan

TOPIC 3: REGION 2

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cagayan_Valley

Cagayan Valley, designated as Region II, is an administrative region in the Philippines,

located in northeastern section of Luzon Island. It is composed of five Philippine provinces:
Batanes, Cagayan, Isabela, Nueva Vizcaya, and Quirino. The region hosts four chartered
cities of Cauayan, Ilagan, Santiago, and Tuguegarao.
Most of the land area is situated on the valley between the Cordilleras and the Sierra
Madre mountain ranges. The eponymous Cagayan River, the country's largest and second
longest, runs through the region and flows from the Caraballo Mountains and ends at Aparri.
Cagayan Valley is the second largest Philippine administrative region by land area. According
to a literacy survey in 2013, 97.2% of Cagayan Valley's citizens (ages 10 to 64) are
functionally literate, which is the highest out of all the regions in the Philippines, including
the National Capital Region.

REGION II AUTHORS
http://josadera.blogspot.com/2013/10/region-ii-authors.html

1. EMMANUEL AGAPITO FLORES LACABA

(December 10, 1948 – March 18, 1976), popularly known as Eman Lacaba, was a
Filipino writer, poet, essayist, playwright, fictionist, scriptwriter, songwriter and activist and
he is considered as the only poet warrior of the Philippines. Lacaba was killed on March 18,
1976 in Tucaan Balaag, Asuncion, Davao de Norte he was set to go back shortly to the city
for a new assignment that would have used his writing skills, and had even agreed to write a
script for Lino Brocka once he got back there. He was 27 years old.

Works
Lacaba wrote the lyrics of "Awit ni Kuala", the song sung by Lolita Rodriguez in the
classic Lino Brocka masterpiece 'Tinimbang Ka Ngunit Kulang '. He also composed new
revolutionary lyrics in Cebuano for some well-known folk songs.

2. FERNANDO M. MARAMAG (1893-1936)

Poet and Journalist
Fernando Maramag was an excellent poet and journalist in English. He had a rich
style
and deep understanding of human nature – qualities which made his poetry appealing to all
readers. On the other hand, his editorial writings “exerted great influence on the various
phases
of the Filipino way of life, particularly in its government, economics, education and politics,”
according to a critic. He was born on January 21, 1893 in Ilagan, Isabela, to Rafael Maramag
and Victoria Mamuri, a Spanish mestiza. His parents were wealthy landowners.
At age seven, he was enrolled in a public school in his hometown. He finished his high
school in 1908. He was 15 when he entered the Philippine Normal School. However, at
the
insistence of his father, he transferred to the University of the Philippines.
At UP him started writing for the school organ. A brilliant student, he later became
its
editor-in-chief. Among his equally brilliant classmates, were Pilar Hidalgo-Lim and Jose
Hilario.
Together, they managed the school newspaper. At age 21, he was named principal of the
Instituto de Manila, a prestigious school for gifted and well-off students. Later, he became
an English professor at UP. He also taught at San Juan de Letran. During this time, he met
and married Constancia Ablaza, by whom he had six children.
In 1917, he became the editor of Rising Philippines, a daily read by almost every
literate
38
 Filipino because of its nationalistic contests. The Philippines Herald and the National
Weekly
also benefited from his editorship. With his credentials, he started to work in the
government as chief of the publications division of the Department of Justice. Later, he
became technical assistant to then Senate President Manuel Luis Quezon.
Maramag published countless poems which were devoured and admired by the
reading
public, like “My Queen Tagala,” “The Atheist,” “A Christ Without a Cross,” “Jose Rizal,” and
“The
Presentation.” He wrote about the history of the English language in the Philippines. This
enabled him to mine the secrets of English poetics, especially its techniques. Leopoldo Y.
Yabes, a noted literary historian, included seven of Maramag’s works in his book of Filipino
essays in
English, which has become a standard textbook in English in Philippine schools and
universities.
Maramag also wrote appraisingly of some eminent Filipinos in history like the Presidents
Manuel Quezon and Sergio Osmeña, Sr., not to mention Dr. Jose Rizal, neither understating
nor
over glorifying their qualities and achievements, but treating his subjects with sincerity and
respect. He died on October 23, 1936. In his honor, a marker was installed in his hometown
on January 21, 1983.

3. LEONA FLORENTINO
(April 19, 1849-October 4, 1884) was a Filipino poet in the Spanish and Ilocano
languages. She is considered as the "mother of Philippine women's literature" and the
"bridge from oral to literary tradition". Born to a wealthy and prominent family in Vigan,
Ilocos Sur, Florentino began to write her first verses in Ilocano at a young age. Despite her
potential, she was not allowed to receive a university education because of her gender.
Florentino was instead tutored by her mother, and then a series of private teachers. An
educated Ilocano priest taught her advanced Spanish and encouraged her to develop her
voice in poetry.
Florentino married a politician named Elias de los Reyes at the age of 14. They had
five children together. Their son Isabelo de los Reyes later became a Filipino writer, activist
and senator. Due to the feminist nature of her writings, Florentino was shunned by her
husband and son; she lived alone in exile and separately from her family. She died at the age
of 35.
Works
Her lyrical poetry in Spanish, and especially that in Ilocano, gained attention in
various international forums in Spain, Paris and St. Louis, Missouri. Her literary contributions
- particularly 22 preserved poems - were recognized when she was included in the
Encyclopedia Internationale des Oeuvres des Femmes (International Encyclopedia of
Women’s Works) in 1889. She is believed to be the first Filipina to receive this international
recognition, an homage that occurred after her death at a young age.

5. ALFRED YUSON
Born on 23 February 1945 in Manila. (Also known as Krip Yuson.) He has authored 23
books, including novels, poetry collections, short fiction, essays, and children's stories, apart
from having edited various other titles. Yuson was conferred the Southeast Asia Write
Award (SEA Write) in 1992 in Bangkok, and has been elevated to the Hall of Fame of the
Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, the Philippines ‘most prestigious literary
distinction. He has frequently represented the Philippines in Literary conferences, festivals
and reading tours in the United States, Japan, China, Finland, Scotland, Thailand, Malaysia,
United Kingdom, Australia, Singapore, Hong Kong, Italy, Belgium, the Netherlands, South
Africa, and Columbia, and his works may be found in many international anthologies.
Yuson is a founding member of the Philippine Literary Arts Council (PLAC), Creative
Writing Foundation, Inc. and Manila Critics Circle, and was Chairman of Writers Union of the
Philippines. His bibliography includes the potry collections: Sea Serpent, (Monsoon Press,
1980), Trading in Mermaids (Anvil Publishing, Inc., 1993), Mothers Like Elephants (Anvil
Publishing, Inc., 2000) Hairtrigger Loves: 50 Poems on Woman (University of the Philippines
Press, 2002), and the translation, Love's A Vice/ Bisyo ang Pag-ibig: Translations into English
of 60 Poems by mike L. Birgonia (National Commission for Culture at the Arts, 2004). Yuson
currently writes a literature and culture column for The Philippines Star.He also teaches
fiction and poetry at Ateneo de Manila University, where he held the Henry Lee Irwin

39
 Professorial Chair in Creative Writing. His two novels, The Great Philippine Jungle
Café and Voyeurs and Savages are studies of Philippine culture. Another novel, The Music
Child, was among five works short listed for the second (2008) Man Asian Literary Prize.

5. ADO VINUYA
Was born in Manila in 1930. He studied in the University of Santo Tomas and the Far
Eastern University. He served as editor and public information officer of the Manila Health
Department. A versatile worker, he has also been a laborer, sanitary inspector, laboratory
technician, clerk, and radio announcer. Vinuya also wrote fiction. He has a poetry collection,
with preface written by Carlos P. Romulo, entitled Pregnant Woman and Other Poems
(1968).

6.NORMAN WILWAYCO
Aside from being a multiple Palanca award winner (one being the prestigious Grand
Prize for the novel in 2002), plays bass for a rock and roll band and designs multimedia web
sites. He also writes for Filmless Films. He previously wrote for the popular television show
Batibot and has contributed articles to Liwayway, Manila Times and Inquirer. He was a
fellow of the UP Writers Workshop and won the first prize in the Amado Hernandez Award
for Literature in 1999.

7. GREGORIO AGLIPAY CRUZ Y LABAYAN

(Latin: Gregorius Aglipay; 5 May 1860 – 1 September 1940) was a former Roman
Catholic priest who became the first Filipino Supreme Bishop of the Philippine Independent
Church, a Christian Protestant sect in the form of a national church in the country. Known
for inciting patriotic rebellion among the Filipino clergy, he was also a political activist who
became acquainted with Isabelo de los Reyes, who would start a Protestant church named
after Aglipay in 1902.
Aglipay was previously excommunicated by Archbishop of Manila Bernardino Norzaleda
y Villa on May 1899, upon the expressed permission of Pope Leo XIII. Aglipay later joined the
Freemason Order in May 1918. Aglipay later married Pilar Jamias y Ver from Sarrat, Ilocos
Norte in 1939 and then died one year later. Followers of Aglipay through the Philippine
Independent Church colloquially sometimes refer to their membership as Aglipayans.

8. NAYA S. VALDELLON

Grew up in Manila, Philippines and has worked as a magazine editorial assistant,

freelance copy editor, content writer for a website design company, and literature and
writing composition teacher. She graduated in 2002 with a BFA in Creative Writing from the
Ateneo de Manila University, where she was Associate Editor of Heights -- the university's
official literary publication. She was a fellow for poetry in English in the 38th UP National
Writers Workshop (2001) and the 41st Dumaguete National Writers Workshop (2002). She
is a recent M.A. in English and Creative Writing graduate now based in Toronto, Canada. She
loves cats, cooking, chess, crosswords, and crazy concoctions.

9. ANA MARIA VILLANUEVA-LYKES

A B computer science degree holder, Ana Maria Villanueva-Lykes discovered the world
of words only five years ago. Since then she has been published in The Philippines Free
Press, Philippine Graphic, Reader's Digest, and several collections and anthologies. She
trained with the Philippine Daily Inquirer for two years before she moved on to other
publications. She currently works as editor-in-chief for AsianTraveler Magazine and La Salle’s
Rektikano Magazine. Her novel, Caracol, earned her an outstanding thesis award for her
MFA degree in Creative Writing at De La Salle University in 2008. She is a fellow of the 7 Th
Iyas Creative Writing Workshop and the 44Th U.P. National Writers Workshop.

1. The Nunuk on the Hill

https://kissonthewind.wordpress.com/2016/02/08/nunuk-on-the-hill/

Nunuk on the Hill

The Nunuk on the hill short forth the leaves and twigs;
Then suddenly all its branches fell and I under it.
On what is left I cannot watch the boats on the sea
40
 For I stand on the side from the sea.

I weep in my grief?
It was the sea that made me an orphan;
The sad news came to me in the roar of the breakers,
From the voice of the mighty sea currents.

Task/Activity
In separate sheet of paper give your insight about the poem. Discuss briefly. The same rubric for
informal essay will be used.

2. What Causes Earthquakes

https://literarycompilationbyrejean.weebly.com/region-ii.html
What Causes Earthquakes
(Y Paggafuanan na Lunig)

Once upon a time, there was a very poor couple who had only one son. He’s name was
Bernardo Carpio. Since this family led only a hand to mouth existence, both husband and
wife had to work for a living. Whenever the mother went out to work, she would lock up the
baby in the house. She would just give him some things to play with. Upon coming home,
she would find all the toys of the baby broken into small pieces. This happened every day
until the mother could no longer give the baby anything to play with. So the baby was left in
the house without any toy. When she came home to feed him, the mother was surprised
that the walls and studs of their house were either broken or destroyed. She remained silent
but observant. As soon as these parts of the house had been repaired, she again left
Bernardo Carpio alone. When she came home, she found the same in shambles. Next time,
the mother deliberately gave her son an iron rod to play with. Again he broke this rod into
pieces. Now the parents were growing alarmed over the extraordinary strength of Bernardo.
News of it also spread in the neighborhood.
As the child grew up, he was recognized as the strongest boy in the village. He
challenged to fight those who dared him and defeated them all. As a man, his prowess was
also acclaimed in the whole country. This popularity made him very proud. He was so proud
that he even dared challenged God. At first, God gave him the upper hand. But on the third
trial, when God asked him to stop the quarrel between the two big mountains, Bernardo
failed. In a conceited gesture, he impulsively went between the warring mountains. He
extended his arms to stop them but instead, he got caught between the two mountains and
was buried alive with only his head out. Today, it was believed that whenever Bernardo
Carpio struggles to free himself from the grip of the mountains, the earth quakes. The old

Task/Activity
folks also say that when he finally frees himself, that will be the end of the world.
In separate sheet of paper give your insight about the poem and how it will affect your
everyday life. The same rubric for informal essay will be used.

3. The Legend of Magat

http://compilationofphilippineliterature.blogspot.com/2011/04/legend-of-magat-river.html

The Legend of the Magat River

A long time ago, there lived in Bayombong a tall, handsome man called Magat. He was
young and strong, and fast as a hunter and sure in his spear shot. He could run as fast as a deer
and strong as he was, he could down a bull with ease. He was strong-willed and obstinate but he
was also kind and gentle. Except for a few who envied him his prowess, everybody in the village
loved and respected him. Magat loved outdoor life, and roamed in the forest surrounding the
struggling settlement.
One day, fired by adventure he wandered farther than usual. Soon night came. Being far
from home, he kindled a fire in his crude, primitive way. He lay beside the fire and fell asleep.
Early the next morning, he pursued his solitary way. Finally, he came upon the largest
stream he had ever seen. He stopped and crawled noisily to the bank of the river near the fall.
Upon parting the tall grasses, he beheld a lovely sight just across the stream-beneath the shade
of the outspreading branches of the big balete tree was a very beautiful maiden. She was bathing

41
 and was nude from the waist up. She was the most beautiful woman Magat had ever seen and
he fell in love with her at first sight.
From where he was hiding, Magat's attention was attracted by a silent movement on a
spreading branch; Magat saw a great python, coiled around the branch, which was ready to
attack the beautiful woman. He jumped backward. The noise he made drew the attention of the
maiden, who, turning around, saw him poise a spear. She mistook his attitude for hostility and
ducked under water. Just as the python sprang, the spear flew from Magat's hand. The snake was
struck right through the eyes and brain.
The next moment, Magat was in the water and carried the beautiful Maiden ashore. She
struggled a little but did not scream, as she modestly tried to cover her body with her long dark
hair.
Magat pointed to the writhing python. Upon seeing it, she screamed instinctively and
drew close to Magat, who put a protecting arm around her lovely shoulders. Gratitude and
admiration were all over her pretty face
Magat picked up his broken spear and went back to the young woman. They wandered
about in the forest. Under the spell of nature, Magat asked the woman to be his wife; the
woman, after making Magat promise in the name of the great Kabunian not to see her at noon,
consented.
He brought her home and made a cozy room for her. Everything went well and happily
for a while. But the passing days, his curiosity mounted more and more and at last, it grew out of
bounds.
One noon, he broke his promise and broke into his wife's seclusion. In his wife's bed of
soft leaves and grasses he beheld a sight that chilled his heart. A great crocodile was lying on his
wife's bed. Believing that his wife had met a horrible death, he rushed to the kitchen, fetched an
ugly weapon and returned to his wife's room. He raised his weapon to kill the crocodile when
suddenly he saw his wife on the bed instead of the crocodile. His wife was dying. "You broke your
promise. I can no longer be happy nor live any longer. I must die." his wife sobbed. Slowly life
ebbed from her. On her beautiful skin, scales appeared, as she turned into a crocodile before his
very eyes. That was his punishment for having broken his promise made in the name of
Kabunian.
Sadly, Magat buried the dead crocodile in his front yard. Worn out by grief for his lack of
fidelity to his word and over the death of his lovely wife, he drowned himself and his miseries in
the same stream grew into the mighty troublesome Magat River.

Task/Activity

Make a reflection paper about this story. Discuss briefly. The same rubric for
informal essay will be used.

TOPIC 4: REGION 3
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central_Luzon

Central Luzon (Kapampangan: Kalibudtarang Luzon, Pangasinan: Pegley na Luzon,

Tagalog: Gitnang Luzon, Ilocano: Tengnga a Luzon), designated as Region III, is an
administrative region in the Philippines, primarily serving to organize the 7 provinces of the
vast central plains of the island of Luzon (the largest island), for administrative convenience.
The region contains the largest plain in the country and produces most of the country's rice
supply, earning itself the nickname "Rice Granary of the Philippines". Its provinces are:
Aurora, Bataan, Bulacan, Nueva Ecija, Pampanga, Tarlac and Zambales.

REGION III AUTHORS

http://josadera.blogspot.com/2013/10/region-iii-authors.html

1. FRANCISCO BALAGTAS
Francisco Balagtas y de la Cruz (April 2, 1788 – February 20, 1862), also known as
Francisco Baltazar, was a prominent Filipino poet, and is widely considered as one of the
greatest Filipino literary laureate for his impact on Filipino literature. The famous epic,
Florante at Laura, is regarded as his defining work. The name "Baltazar", sometimes
misconstrued as a pen name, was a legal surname Balagtas adopted after the 1849 edict of
Governor-General Narciso Claveria y Zaldua, which mandated that the native population
adopt standard Spanish surnames instead of native ones.

42
 Francisco Balagtas was born on April 2, 1788 in Barrio Panginay, Bigaa, Bulacan as
the youngest of the four children of Juan Balagtas, a blacksmith, and Juana de la Cruz. He
studied in a parochial school in Bigaa and later in Manila. During his childhood years.
Francisco later worked as houseboy in Tondo, Manila. The popular Filipino debate form
Balagtasan is named after Balagtas.
Balagtas learned to write poetry from José de la Cruz (Huseng Sisiw), one of the
most famous poets of Tondo, in return of chicks. It was de la Cruz himself who personally
challenged Balagtas to improve his writing. Balagtas swore he would overcome Huseng Sisiw
as he would not ask anything in return as a poet. (source: Talambuhay ng mga Bayani, for
Grade 6 textbook)
In 1835, Balagtas moved to Pandacan, where he met María Asunción Rivera, who
would effectively serve as the muse for his future works. She is referenced in Florante at
Laura as 'Celia' and 'MAR' Balagtas' affections for MAR were challenged by the influential
Mariano Capule. Capule won the battle for MAR when he used his wealth to get Balagtas
imprisoned under the accusation that he ordered a servant girl's head be shaved. It was here
that he wrote Florante at Laura—In fact, the events of this poem were meant to parallel his
own situation.
He wrote his poems in Tagalog, during an age when Filipino writing was
predominantly written in Spanish. Balagtas published Florante at Laura upon his release in
1838. He moved to Balanga, Bataan in 1840 where he served as the assistant to the Justice
of peace and later, in 1856, as the Major Lieutenant. He was also appointed as the translator
of the court. He married Juana Tiambeng on July 22, 1842 in a ceremony officiated by Fr.
Cayetano Arellano, uncle of future Philippine Supreme Court Chief Justice Cayetano
Arellano. They had eleven children but only four survived to adulthood.
He died on February 20, 1862 at the age of 73. Upon his deathbed, he asked a favor
that none of his children become poets like him, who had suffered under his gift as well as
under others. He even went as far as to tell them it would be better to cut their hands off
than let them be writers. Balagtas is so greatly revered in the Philippines that the term for
Filipino debate in extemporaneous verse is named after him: Balagtasan.
An elementary school was erected in honor of Balagtas, the Francisco Balagtas
Elementary School (FBES), located along Alvarez Street in Santa Cruz, Manila. There is also a
plaza and park (Plaza Balagtas) erected in Pandacan, Manila while most of the streets were
named after various Florante at Laura characters in honor of Francisco Balagtas. His
birthplace, Bigaa, Bulacan, was renamed to Balagtas, Bulacan in honor of him.

Works
 Orosmán at Zafira – a komedya (a Filipino theater form evolved from the Spanish comedia)
in four parts
 Don Nuño at Selinda – a komedya in three parts
 Auredato at Astrome – a komedya in three parts
 Clara Belmore – a komedya in three parts
 Abdol at Misereanan – a komedya, staged in Abucay in 1857
 Bayaceto at Dorslica – a komedya in three parts, staged at Udyong on September 27, 1857
 Alamansor at Rosalinda – a komedya staged at Udyong during the town's feast
 La India elegante y el negrito amante – a short play in one part
 Nudo gordeano
 Rodolfo at Rosemonda
 Mahomet at Constanza
 Claus (translated into Tagalog from Latin)
 Florante at Laura, an awit (metrical narrative poem with dodecasyllabic quatrains [12
syllables per line, 4 lines per stanza]); Balagtas' masterpiece

2. TOMAS F. AGULTO
Born on 21 December 1953 in Hagonoy, Bulacan. He wrote poems at a young age
and had them commented on by his family and neighbors. He further honed his poetic skills
as a member Galian as Arte at Tula, and went on to work on various jobs, especially in non-
government sector, in pursuit of his own maturity. his poetry collections Lagi Na'y Kailangan
Kong Gumising Nang Maaga at Iba Pang Pagdidilidili (Always I have To Wake Up Early and
Other Redlections, 1981), Bakasyunista (Summer Folk, 1984) and Batanes at Iba Pang
Pulo (Batanes and Other Lands, 1989) all won prizes in the Don Carlos Palanca Awards for
Literature. His essay “Ang Mga Badjaw sa Tungkalang” (The Bajao of Tungkalang, 1988) also
won in the Palanca Award. In 1987, the CCP Literary Contest awarded him a prize for his
short story “Ang Walang Lubay na Istasyon ng Pag-asa (The Unending Stations of Hope and

43
 Search). The following poems have won in the annual poetry contest of the Komisyon sa
Wikang Filipino (oe KWF, formerly the Surian ng Wikang Pambansa and later Linangan ng
mga Wika sa Pilipinas): “Kalatas kay Pinang” (Letter to Pinang) and “Umulan Man at
Umaraw” (Rain or Shine); and “Malayo Na Ang Narating Ng Prusisyon” (The Procession Has
Covered a Lot of Ground). KWF has proclaimed him Poet of the Year three times, the first
time in 1988 for his poem “Polusyon” (Pollution) and 2 nd Prize for the same award for a
poem on the great plebeian Andres Bonifacio in 2009. His book Ang Magandang Babae sa
Sta. Elena is an anthology poems, stories, and essays; while SA.BA.TRISa Masaganang
Milenyo (2001) is a novel. His book of poems and essays, Kuntra Krusada is forthcoming.

3. EMILIO MAR ANTONIO

Emilio Mar Antonio was born on 11 December 1903 in Bambang, Bulacan. He died
on 13 May 1967 in Quiapo, Manila. He was a poet and a fictionist. In 1941, he married
Andrea Teodoro and they had six children, one of whom is poet Teo Antonio. He was the
administrator and mediator of the balagtasan on radio sponsored by Compania Elizalde and
wrote for their newspaper, Taliba. He was a member of the editorial board of Liwayway
from 1946- 1949 and editor of Bulaklak from 1950-1965.
He wrote three novels in verse: Lakandupil, Nakaluping Dahon and Perlas sa
Putikan. He wrote Magat, Ama ng Lahing Kayumanggi, a novel, in prose with Macario Pineda
as co-atuhor. They were all published in Liwayway. His Birang na May Luha was published in
1949. He became popular as a balagtasan poet, who engaged Florentino Collantes, Nemesio
Caravana, and others in public debates in verse on contemporary issues. His lyric poems Ang
Nayon ko and Gagamba at Alitaptap have been anthologized in Walong Dekada ng
Makabagong Tulang Pilipino, 1981.
In 1937, Mar Antonio won a gold medal in the annual choice by the Kapisanang Ilaw
ng Bayan in Bulacan for his poem, “Ang Nayon Ko.” He was proclaimed poet laureate by the
Kapisanang Diwang Ginto for his poem, “Ilaw.”, and by Liwayway in 1938. He also won in the
first balagtasan to be aired on radio besting opponents Fernando Monleon and Francisco
Paño. The topic was Sino ang Higit na Dapat Mahalin: Ina, Asawa o Anak?
In 1951, he was proclaimed “Prince of Balagtasan” by the Kapisanan ng mga Makata
at Mambibigkas, along with Collantes as the “King of Balagtasan” after a heated poetic joust
on the topic: Dapat bang Pairalin ang Import Control sa Pilipinas?
After Collantes’ death in 1954, Antonio and Caravana fought over the coveted title
in a poetic joust on the topic, Alin ang lalong Mahalaga: Buhay Kahapon o Buhay Ngayon? He
defended Antonio and he was crowned as “King of Balagtasan” by the Taliba ng Inang Wika
or TANIW headed by Lope K. Santos.

4. VIRGILIO V. VITUG
Virgilio V. Vitug. b. Lubao, Pampanga 17 September 1951. Poet, essayist, journalist,
scriptwriter. He is married to essayist Marites Danguilan with whom he has a son, Alab. He
studied at the University of the East, and was a fellow in the writers’ workshops of the
Ateneo de Manila, University of the Philippines, and Silliman University. He has worked as a
reporter and/or columnist for the Times Journal, Tempo, Manila Times, and Manila
Chronicle; an associate editor inSagisag and Kaligiran magazines; and head writer of the
children’s television program Batibot. He has also served as director of the Philippine Center
for Investigative Journalism and the National Press Club; publisher of Agriscope, and
chair/president of World Media Groove. In 1990 he became executive producer of the TV
program Mag-agri Tayo, a correspondent of the Asian Reviewer, and associate editor of The
Filipino, both London-based periodicals and contributor ofThe Entrepreneur. He was also
head writer of ABS-CBN’s “Pipol” and “Off the Record” and ANC’s “By Demand.”
He co-founded and was former chairperson of Galian sa Arte at Tula (GAT). Two of
his poems are anthologized in Virgilio S. Almario’s Walong Dekada ng Makabagong
Tula (Eight Decades of Modern Poetry), “Isang Tanong sa Sarili” (A Question for Myself) and
“Ako si Virgilio V. Vitug” (I am Virgilio V. Vitug). his other works are found in Galian and New
Poems in Pilipino. He wrote a Pampango passion play, Sinakulo ning Balen (Passion of the
Town), and co-authored a book, Agribusiness Oppurtunities in the Philippines, 1988.
Vitug has won the following awards; honorable mention, “Simula ng Gabi sa Luba”
(Evening Commences in Lubao), 1969, and “Isang Tanong sa Sarili,” 1976, in the Talaang
Ginto of the Surian ng Wikang Pambansa, respectively; special award, Loyola Poetry Contest,
1972; and second prize, National Zarzuela Writing Contest for “Hoy, Boyet” (Hey, Boyet). He
has been a fellow at the Ateneo Writers’ Workshop, 1970; UP Writers’ Workshop, 1971; and
Silliman Writers’ Workshop, 1972.

44
 1. Miss Phathupats
https://kahimyang.com/kauswagan/articles/900/today-in-philippine-history-january-27-1867-juan-
crisostomo-soto-was-born-in-santa-ines-bacolor-pampanga
On January 27, 1867, Juan Crisostomo Soto, journalist, poet, playwright and known as
the Father of Pampanga Literature, was born in Santa Ines, Bacolor, and Pampanga.
Soto, under the pen name of Crissot, wrote a number of lyrical poems, historical
dramas, humorous plays and philosophical essays, and "sarsuwelas," the most famous of
which is "Alang Dios" or there is no God (1901).
He translated some Spanish literature into Pampango, including Lovers of Teruel Faust
and Nero and the Gladiators. He was also a contributor to the revolutionary paper La
Independencia.
Soto joined the Katipunan during the 1896 Revolution and worked with Maximo Hizon
in promoting Pampango ideals. He participated in several battles against the American
troops in 1898 under General Tomas Mascardo's forces.
Soto married twice. His first wife was Julia Amaida who bore him 6 children. Julia died in
1903. His second wife Rosario Palma bore him 4 children. Juan Crisostomo Soto died on July
12, 1918 at the age of 51.
http://ebuddylinks.blogspot.com/2012/05/miss-phathupats.html

Miss Phathupats
By: Juan Crisostomo Soto

The face of a young woman named Miss Yeyeng is full of lipstick and make-
up. They say his parents were born in the remote part of Pampanga, in its smallest
town. Thus, Miss Yeyeng is a Filipina from head to toe, and even the extremity of her
hair, she is a Kapampangan.Because of poverty, and they sell cooked food to earn a
living. Miss Yeyeng could be seen with a load in her head some “ginataan” or “bitso-
bitso” or donut in the gambling dens. She turned into a young lady with no chance to
change her life’s condition.
The revolution was over. The military government of America opened a school
and here, the American soldiers were sent to teach. Miss Yeyeng, not yet a lady at that
time, happened to have a regular costumer who is a soldier. She was enticed by the
soldier to attend his class so that they would be able to communicate better. In their
conversation, the soldier speaks English while Miss Yeyeng speaks Kapampangan, so she
was forced to study.
After a few months, Miss Yeyeng already speaks English. Over eight months,
with the encouragement of the soldier, she was sent to teach to the other town. When
she was teaching there, the town’s folk were much amazed with her because she speaks
English better than them. That was how time passed by. Then, Miss Yeyeng seldom
spoke Kapampangan because she said she forgot the language already. According to
her, Kapampangan is stiff and her tongue is twisted whenever she uses it, so she could
never speak it straightly anymore and she stammers when she does so.
People who know much about her shrugged off their shoulders upon hearing
her. And so, they changed her name into a lurid and stinking "Miss Phathupats," a name
derived from her wide hip which is forced to fit in a very tight pencil cut skirt that made
her no less than that of a “patupat” or “suman sa ibus” tightly wrapped in a banana leaf.
Since then, this is the name they branded her, forgetting permanently Yeyeng, her
sweet nickname. Her name Miss Phathupats became so popular.
Life went on as usual. Soon, Ing Emangabiran, a highlander Kapampangan
newspaper in Bacolor circulated. In a festival or entertainment program in town X,
wherein Miss Phathupats attended, this newspaper was read. She came close to the
reader, but when she saw that it is written in Kapampangan, she pouted slightly, and
said.
"Mi no entiende el Pampango." (“I do not understand Kapampangan.”
"Mi no entiende ese Castellano, Miss," (“I Also do not understand Spanish,
Miss.”) also said by a prank, varying his tone.

45
 All folks in the crowd smiled, and because they are refined, they did not show
wariness to the lady. However, this girl, even though she feels that they are already
teasing her, went on and said:
"In fact, I really find difficulty to speak in Kapampangan especially when I read
it."
With these few words she uttered came all different vulgar words from English,
Spanish. Tagalog that she mixed without meaning. Those who heard her had not
prevented themselves: they laughed out loud.
Miss Phathupats became angry, she faced them and said:
"Porque reir?"
"Por el tsampurado, miss," said the first to respond.
This made the laughter even louder and Miss Phathupats felt warm.
One of those who are standing said.
"You should not wonder if Miss Phathupats doesn’t know Kapampangan
anymore: First, she has been with the American soldier for a long time: second, she’s
not a Kapampangan, anymore. In fact, Miss Phathupats is her name.
This was when the volcano exploded. A very loud explosion, Miss Phathupats
was so angry that from her mouth came the flames of Vesubiyo or all the filthy words in
Kapampangan brought together in a burning crater.
"Shameless! Thief! Poisonous! Son*#@!," said in the Kapampangan language.
"Well, she’s a Kapampangan anyway!" said the listeners.
"Yes, don’t you know?" Said someone who knows her. "She's the daughter of
Godiung Pakbong who is my town mate."
There was again another loud laughter from the listeners. Miss Phathupats wept
and as she wiped her tears came along the thick powder on her cheeks. Her natural
color was revealed, darker than a “duhat” (Black plum or java plum). When they saw
this, the more that they laughed at her and said:
"Oh my, I can’t believe she’s black!"
“You’re right, she’s an American Niger!"
Yells, claps, laughter was heard. Miss Phathupats was not able to endure this.
She stumbled as she went out and said:
"Mi no vuelve en esta casa."
"Goodbye, Miss who doesn’t know Kapampangan!"
"Goodbye, Miss Alice Roosevelt!"
"Goodbye, Miss Phathupats!"
That was how she was humiliated by all of them, and poor Yeyeng left mumbling
like a fool. There are many Miss Phathupats today. They do not know Kapampangan or
they are ashamed of Kapampangan because they can already speak Carabao English.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions:
1. In your own experience what products do you
prefer, from our own country or from foreign *Basic Homework Rubric
countries? Why? CRITERIA Percentag
2. Pretenders are obviously rampant even now and e
then, if you are to be asked in what part or Neatness, Completion, 40%
aspects of your life do you often pretend? Accuracy
Explain. Timeliness 30%
3. What negative things in life do you often hide? Work Shown 30%
Please expound. 100%
4. How do you handle criticism? Positive or negative.
5. If you were Miss Phathupats would you do the same thing she did? Why?

2. Faith, Love, Time and Dr. Lazaro

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregorio_C._Brillantes

Gregorio C. Brillantes, a Palanca Award Hall of Famer and a multi-awarded fiction writer, is
one of the Philippines' most popular writers in English. Known for his sophisticated and elegant
style, he has been compared to James Joyce. He often writes about individuals under thirty,
adolescent or post adolescent ones who struggle with alienation from family, society and from
themselves. His earlier collection of short stories earned him the title of the "Catholic Writer".
46
 But elements of the fantastic also come in his works. In the 2006 Graphic/Fiction Awards, the
main local sponsor of the contest, specialty book shop Fully Booked, acknowledged Brillantes as
one of the godfathers of fantastic literature in English by naming the first category the Gregorio
C. Brillantes Prize for Prose.
Brillantes is a native of Camiling, Tarlac. He obtained his Litt. B. degree in the Ateneo de
Manila University. He has edited Sunburst, The Manila Review, Focus, Asia-Philippines Leader and
the Philippines Free Press. Among his published collections of short stories are: The Distance to
Andromeda and Other Stories, The Apollo Centennial, Help, and On a Clear Day in November
Shortly Before the Millennium, Stories for a Quarter Century.
He also has published collections of essays: Looking for Rizal in Madrid, Chronicles of
Interesting Times, and The Cardinal's Sins, the General's Cross, the Martyr's Testimony and other
Affirmations. He acted as one of the judges of the Philippine Graphic Novel Awards in 2007.
http://allaboutphilippineliterature.blogspot.com/2012/10/faith-love-time-and-dr-lazaro.html

Faith, Love, Time and Dr. Lazaro

By: Gregorio Brillantes

From the upstairs veranda, Dr. Lazaro had a view of stars, the country darkness, the
lights on the distant highway at the edge of town. The phonograph in the sala played Chopin –
like a vast sorrow controlled, made familiar, he had wont to think. But as he sat there, his lean
frame in the habitual slack repose took after supper, and stared at the plains of night that had
evoked gentle images and even a kind of peace (in the end, sweet and invincible oblivion), Dr.
Lazaro remembered nothing, his mind lay untouched by any conscious thought, he was scarcely
aware of the April heat; the pattern of music fell around him and dissolved swiftly,
uncomprehended. It was as though indifference were an infection that had entered his blood it
was everywhere in his body. In the scattered light from the sala his angular face had a dusty,
wasted quality, only his eyes contained life. He could have remained there all evening, unmoving,
and buried, it is were, in a strange half-sleep, had his wife not come to tell him he was wanted on
the phone.
Gradually his mind stirred, focused; as he rose from the chair he recognized the somber
passage in the sonata that, curiosly, made him think of ancient monuments, faded stone walls, a
greyness. The brain filed away an image; and arrangement of sounds released it… He switched
off the phonograph, suppressed and impatient quiver in his throat as he reached for the phone:
everyone had a claim on his time. He thought: Why not the younger ones for a change? He had
spent a long day at the provincial hospital.
The man was calling from a service station outside the town – the station after the
agricultural high school, and before the San Miguel Bridge, the man added rather needlessly, in a
voice that was frantic yet oddly subdued and courteous. Dr. Lazaro thad heard it countless times,
in the corridors of the hospitals, in waiting rooms: the perpetual awkward misery. He was Pedro
Esteban, the brother of the doctor’s tenant in Nambalan, said the voice, trying to make itself less
sudden remote.
But the connection was faulty, there was a humming in the wires, as though darkness
had added to the distance between the house in the town and the gas station beyond the
summer fields. Dr. Lazaro could barely catch the severed phrases. The man’s week-old child had
a high fever, a bluish skin; its mouth would not open to suckle. They could not take the baby to
the poblacion, they would not dare move it; its body turned rigid at the slightest touch. If the
doctor would consent to come at so late an hour, Esteban would wait for him at the station. If
the doctor would be so kind.
Tetanus of the newborn: that was elementary, and most likely it was so hopeless, a
waste of time. Dr. Lazaro said yes, he would be there; he had committed himself to that answer,
long ago; duty had taken the place of an exhausted compassion. The carelessness of the poor,
the infected blankets, the toxin moving toward the heart: they were casual scribbled items in a
clinical report. But outside the grilled windows, the night suddenly seemed alive and waiting. He
had no choice left now but action: it was the only certitude – he sometimes reminded himself –
even if it would prove futile, before, the descent into nothingness.
His wife looked up from her needles and twine, under the shaded lamp of the bedroom;
she had finished the pullover for the grandchild in Bagiuo and had begun work, he noted, on
another of those altar vestments for the parish church. Religion and her grandchild certainly kept
her busy … She looked at him, into so much to inquire as to be spoken to: a large and placid
woman.
“Shouldn’t have let the drive go home so early,” Dr. Lazaro said. “They had to wait till
now to call … Child’s probably dead…”
“Ben can drive for you.
“I hardly see that boy around the house. He seems to be on vacation both from home
and in school.
“He’s downstairs,” his wife said.

47
 Dr. Lazaro put on fresh shirt, buttoned it with tense, abrupt motions, “I thought he’d
gone out again… Who’s that girl he’s been seeing...It’s not just warm, it’s hot. You should’ve
stayed on in Baguio… There’s disease, suffering, death, because Adam ate the apple. They must
have an answer to everything… “He paused at the door, as though for the echo of his words.
Mrs. Lazaro had resumed the knitting; in the circle of yellow light, her head bowed, she
seemed absorbed in some contemplative prayer. But her silences had ceased t disturb him, like
the plaster saints she kept in the room, in their cases of glass, or that air she wore of conspiracy,
when she left with Ben for Mass in the mornings. Dr. Lazaro would ramble about miracle drugs,
politics, music, the common sense of his unbelief; unrelated things strung together in a
monologue; he posed questions, supplied with his own answers; and she would merely nod, with
an occasional “Yes?” and “Is that so?” and something like a shadow of anxiety in her gaze.
He hurried down the curving stairs, under the votive lamps of the Sacred Heart. Ben lay
sprawled on the sofa, in the front parlor; engrossed in a book, one leg propped against the back
cushions. “Come along, we’re going somewhere,” Dr. Lazaro said, and went into the clinic for his
medical bag. He added a vial of penstrep, an ampule of caffeine to the satchel’s content’s;
rechecked the bag before closing it; the cutgut would last just one more patient. One can only
cure, and know nothing beyond one’s work… There had been the man, today, in the hospital: the
cancer pain no longer helped by the doses of morphine; the patients’s eyes flickering their
despair in the eroded face. Dr. Lazaro brushed aside the stray vision as he strode out of the
whitewashed room; he was back in his element, among syringes, steel instruments, quick
decisions made without emotion, and it gave him a kind of blunt energy.
I’ll drive, Pa?” Ben followed him through the kitchen, where the maids were ironing the
week’s wash, gossiping, and out to the yard shrouded in the dimness of the single bulb under the
eaves. The boy push back the folding doors of the garage and slid behind the wheel.
“Somebody’s waiting at the gas station near San Miguel. You know the place?”
“Sure,” Ben said.
The engine sputtered briefly and stopped. “Battery’s weak,” Dr. Lazaro said. “Try it
without the lights,” and smelled the gasoline overflow as the old Pontiac finally lurched around
the house and through the trellised gate, its front sweeping over the dry dusty street.
But he’s all right, Dr. Lazaro thought as they swung smoothly into the main avenue of
the town, past the church and the plaza, the kiosko bare for once in a season of fiestas, the lam-
posts shining on the quiet square. They did not speak; he could sense his son’s concentration on
the road, and he noted, with a tentative amusement, the intense way the boy sat behind the
wheel, his eagerness to be of help. They passed the drab frame houses behind the marketplace,
and the capitol building on its landscaped hill, the gears shifting easily as they went over the
railroad tracks that crossed the asphalted street.
Then the road was pebbled and uneven, the car bucking slightly; and they were
speeding between open fields, a succession of narrow wooden bridges breaking the crunching
drive of the wheels. Dr. Lazaro gazed at the wide darkness around them, the shapes of trees and
bushes hurling toward them and sliding away and he saw the stars, hard glinting points of light
yards, black space, infinite distances; in the unmeasured universe, man’s life flared briefly and
was gone, traceless in the void. He turned away from the emptiness. He said: “You seem to have
had a lot of practice, Ben.”
“A lot of what, Pa?”
“The ways you drive. Very professional.”
In the glow of the dashboard lights, the boy’s face relaxed, smiled. “Tio Cesar let me use
his car, in Manila. On special occasions.”
“No reckless driving now,” Dr. Lazaro said. “Some fellows think it’s smart. Gives them a
thrill. Don’t be like that.”
“No, I won’t, Pa. I just like to drive and – and go place, that’s all.”
Dr. Lazaro watched the young face intent on the road, a cowlick over the forehead, the
mall curve of the nose, his own face before he left to study in another country, a young student
of full illusions, a lifetime ago; long before the loss of faith, God turning abstract, unknowable,
and everywhere, it seemed to him, those senseless accidents of pain. He felt a need to define
unspoken things, to come closer somehow to the last of his sons; one of these days, before the
boy’s vacation was over, they might to on a picnic together, a trip to the farm; a special day for
the two of them – father and son, as well as friends. In the two years Ben had been away in
college, they had written a few brief, almost formal letters to each other: your money is on the
way, these are the best years, make the most of them…
Time was moving toward them, was swirling around and rushing away and it seemed Dr.
Lazaro could almost hear it’s hallow receding roar; and discovering his son’s profile against the
flowing darkness, he had a thirst to speak. He could not find what it was he had meant to say.
The agricultural school buildings came up in the headlights and glided back into blurred
shapes behind a fence.
“What was that book you were reading, Ben?”
“A biography,” the boy said.

48
 “Statesman? Scientist maybe?”
It’s about a guy who became a monk.”
“That’s your summer reading?” Dr. Lazaro asked with a small laugh, half mockery, half
affection. “You’re getting to be a regular saint, like your mother.”
“It’s an interesting book,” Ben said.
“I can imagine…” He dropped the bantering tone. “I suppose you’ll go on to medicine
after your AB?”
“I don’t know yet, Pa.”
Tiny moth like blown bits of paper flew toward the windshield and funneled away above
them. “You don’t have to be a country doctor like me, Ben. You could build up a good practice in
the city. Specialized in cancer, maybe or neuro-surgery, and join a good hospital.” It was like
trying to recall some rare happiness, in the car, in the shifting darkness.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Ben said. It’s a vocation, a great one. Being able to really
help people, I mean.”
“You’ve done well in math, haven’t you?”
“Well enough, I guess,” Ben said.
Engineering is a fine course too, “Dr. Lazaro said. “There’ll be lots of room for engineers.
Planners and builders, they are what this country needs. Far too many lawyers and salesmen
these days. Now if your brother – “He closed his eyes, erasing the slashed wrists, part of the
future dead in a boarding-house room, the landlady whimpering, “He was such a nice boy,
doctor, your son…” Sorrow lay in ambush among the years.
“I have all summer to think about, “Ben said.
“There’s no hurry,” Dr. Lazaro said. What was it he had wanted to say? Something about
knowing each other, about sharing; no, it was not that at all…
The stations appeared as they coasted down the incline of a low hill, its fluorescent
lights the only brightness on the plain before them, on the road that led farther into deeper
darkness. A freight truck was taking on a load of gasoline as they drove up the concrete apron
and came to a stop beside the station shed.
A short barefoot man in a patchwork shirt shuffled forward to meet them.
I am Esteban, doctor,” the man said, his voice faint and hoarse, almost inaudible, and he bowed
slightly with a careful politeness. He stood blinking, looking up at the doctor, who had taken his
bag and flashlight form the car.
In the windless space, Dr. Lazaro could hear Esteban’s labored breathing, the clank of
the metal nozzle as the attendant replaced it in the pump. The men in the truck stared at them
curiously.
Esteban said, pointing at the darkness beyond the road: “We will have to go through
those fields, doctor, then cross the river,” The apology for yet one more imposition was a
wounded look in his eyes. He added, in his subdued voice: “It’s not very far…” Ben had spoken to
the attendants and was locking the car.
The truck rumbled and moved ponderously onto the road, its throb strong and then
fading in the warm night stillness.
“Lead the way, “Dr. Lazaro said, handing Esteban the flashlight.
They crossed the road, to a cleft in the embankment that bordered the fields, Dr. Lazaro
was sweating now in the dry heat; following the swinging ball of the flashlight beam, sorrow
wounded by the stifling night, he felt he was being dragged, helplessly, toward some huge and
complicated error, a meaningless ceremony. Somewhere to his left rose a flapping of wings, a
bird cried among unseen leaves: they walked swiftly, and there was only the sound of the silence,
the constant whirl of crickets and the whisper of their feet on the path between the stubble
fields.
With the boy close behind him, Dr. Lazaro followed Esteban down a clay slope to the
slope and ripple of water in the darkness. The flashlight showed a banca drawn up at the river’s
edge. Esteban wade waist-deep into the water, holding the boat steady as Dr. Lazaro and Ben
stepped on the board. In the darkness, with the opposite bank like the far rise of an island, Dr.
Lazaro had a moment’s tremor of fear as the boar slide out over the black water; below prowled
the deadly currents; to drown her in the depths of the night… But it took only a minute to cross
the river. “We’re here doctor,” Esteban said, and they padded p a stretch of sand to a clump of
trees; a dog started to bark, the shadows of a kerosene lamp wavered at a window.

Unsteady on a steep ladder, Dr. Lazaro entered the cave of Esteban’s hut. The single
room contained the odors he often encountered but had remained alien to, stirring an
impersonal disgust: the sourish decay, the smells of the unaired sick. An old man greeted him,
lisping incoherently; a woman, the grandmother, sat crouched in a corner, beneath a famed print
of the Mother of Perpetual Help; a boy, about ten, slept on, sprawled on a mat. Esteban’s wife,
pale and thin, lay on the floor with the sick child beside her.
Motionless, its tiny blue-tinged face drawn way from its chest in a fixed wrinkled
grimace, the infant seemed to be straining to express some terrible ancient wisdom.

49
 Dr. Lazaro made a cursory check – skin dry, turning cold; breathing shallow; heartbeat
fast and irregular. And I that moment, only the child existed before him; only the child and his
own mind probing now like a hard gleaming instrument. How strange that it should still live, his
mind said as it considered the spark that persisted within the rigid and tortured body. He was
alone with the child, his whole being focused on it, in those intense minutes shaped into a habit
now by so many similar instances: his physician’s knowledge trying to keep the heart beating, to
revive an ebbing life and somehow make it rise again.
Dr. Lazaro removed the blankets that bundled the child and injected a whole ampule to
check the tonic spasms, the needle piercing neatly into the sparse flesh; he broke another
ampule, with deft precise movements, and emptied the syringe, while the infant lay stiff as wood
beneath his hands. He wiped off the sweat running into his eyes, then holding the rigid body with
one hand, he tried to draw air into the faltering lungs, pressing and releasing the chest; but even
as he worked to rescue the child, the bluish color of its face began to turn gray.
Dr. Lazaro rose from his crouch on the floor, a cramped ache in his shoulders, his mouth
dry. The lamplight glistened on his pale hollow face as he confronted the room again, the stale
heat, the poverty. Esteban met his gaze; all their eyes were upon him, Ben at the door, the old
man, the woman in the corner, and Esteban’s wife, in the trembling shadows.
Esteban said: “Doctor...”
He shook his head, and replaced the syringe case in his bag, slowly and deliberately, and
fastened the clasp. T Here was murmuring him, a rustle across the bamboo floor, and when he
turned, Ben was kneeling beside the child. And he watched, with a tired detached surprise, as the
boy poured water from a coconut shell on the infant’s brow. He caught the words half-whispered
in the quietness: “... In the name of the Father... The Son… the Holy Ghost…”
The shadows flapped on the walls, the heart of the lamp quivering before it settled into
a slender flame. By the river dogs were barking. Dr. Lazaro glanced at his watch; it was close to
midnight. Ben stood over the child, the coconut shell in his hands, as though wandering what
next to do with it, until he saw his father nod for them to go.
Doctor, tell us – “Esteban took a step forward
“I did everything: Dr. Lazaro said. “It’s too late –“
He gestured vaguely, with a dull resentment; by some implicit relationship, he was also
responsible, for the misery in the room, the hopelessness. “There’s nothing more I can do,
Esteban, “he said. He thought with a flick of anger: Soon the child will be out of it, you ought to
be grateful. Esteban’s wife began to cry, a weak smothered gasping, and the old woman was
comforting her, it is the will of God, my daughter…”
In the yard, Esteban pressed carefully folded bills into the doctor’s hand; the limp,
tattered feel of the money was sort of the futile journey, “I know this is not enough, doctor,”
Esteban said. “As you can see we are very poor… I shall bring you fruit, chickens, someday…”
A late moon had risen, edging over the tops of the trees, and in the faint wash of its
light, Esteban guided them back to the boat. A glimmering rippled on the surface of the water as
they paddled across; the white moonlight spread in the sky, and a sudden wind sprang rain-like
and was lost in the tress massed on the riverbank.
“I cannot thank you enough, doctor,” Esteban said. “You have been very kind to come
this far, at this hour.” He trails is just over there, isn’t it?” He wanted to be rid of the man, to be
away from the shy humble voice, the prolonged wretchedness.
I shall be grateful always, doctor,” Esteban said. “And to you son, too. God go with you.”
He was a faceless voice withdrawing in the shadows, a cipher in the shabby crowds that came to
town on market days.”
“Let’s go, Ben” Dr. Lazaro said.
They took the path across the field; around them the moonlight had transformed the
landscape, revealing a gentle, more familiar dimension, a luminous haze upon the trees stirring
with a growing wind; and the heat of the night had passed, a coolness was falling from the deep
sky. Unhurried, his pace no more than a casual stroll, Dr. Lazaro felt the oppression of the night
begin to life from him, an emotionless calm returned to his mind. The sparrow does not fall
without the Father’s leave he mused at the sky, but it falls just the same. But to what end are the
sufferings of a child? The crickets chirped peacefully in the moon-pale darkness beneath the
trees.
“You baptized the child, didn’t you, Ben?”
“Yes, Pa.” The boy kept in the step beside him.
He used to believe in it, too. The power of the Holy Spirit washing away original sin, the
purified soul made heir of heaven. He could still remember fragments of his boy hood faith, as
one might remember an improbable and long-discarded dream.
“Lay baptism, isn’t that the name for it?”
“Yes,” Ben said. I asked the father. The baby hadn’t been baptized.” He added as they
came to the embankment that separated the field from the road: “They were waiting for it to get
well.”

50
 The station had closed, with only the canopy light and the globed neon sign left burning.
A steady wind was blowing now across the field, the moonlit plains.
He saw Ben stifle a yawn. I’ll drive,” Dr. Lazaro said.
His eyes were not what they used to be, and he drove leaning forward, his hands tight
on the wheel. He began to sweat again, and the empty road and the lateness and the memory of
Esteban and of the child dying before morning in the cramped lamplit room fused into tired
melancholy. He started to think of his other son, one he had lost.
He said, seeking conversation, If other people carried on like you, Ben, the priests would
be run out of business.”
The boy sat beside him, his face averted, not answering.
“Now, you’ll have an angel praying for you in heaven,” Dr. Lazaro said, teasing, trying to
create an easy mood between the. “What if you hadn’t baptized the baby and it died? What
would happen to it then?”
It won’t see God,” Ben said.
“But isn’t that unfair?” It was like riddle, trivial, but diverting. “Just because...”
“Maybe God has another remedy,” Ben said. “I don’t know. But the church says.”
He could sense the boy groping for the tremendous answers. “The Church teaches, the
church says…. “ God: Christ: the communications of saints: Dr. Lazaro found himself wondering
about the world of novenas and candles, where bread and wine became the flesh and blood of
the Lord, and a woman bathed in light appeared before children, and mortal men spoke of
eternal life; the visions of God, the body’s resurrection at the tend of time. It was a country from
which he was barred; no matter – the customs, the geography didn’t appeal to him. But in the
care suddenly, driving through the night, he was aware of an obscure disappointment, a subtle
pressure around his heart, as though he had been deprived of a certain joy…
A bus roared around a hill toward, its lights blinding him, and he pulled to the side of the
road, braking involuntarily as a billow of dust swept over the car. He had not closed the window
on his side, and the flung dust poured in, the thick brittle powder almost choking him, making
him cough, his eyes smarting, before he could shield his face with his hands. In the headlights,
the dust sifted down and when the air was clear again, Dr. Lazaro, swallowing a taste of earth, of
darkness, maneuvered the car back onto the road, his arms exhausted and numb. He drove the
last half-mile to town in silence, his mind registering nothing but the frit of dust in his mouth and
the empty road unwinding swiftly before him.
They reached the sleeping town, the desolate streets, the plaza empty in the moonlight,
and the huddled shapes of houses, the old houses that Dr. Lazaro had always know. How many
nights had he driven home like this through the quiet town, with a man’s life ended behind him,
or a child crying newly risen from the womb; and a sense of constant motions, of change, of the
days moving swiftly toward and immense revelation touched him once more, briefly, and still he
could not find the words. He turned the last corner, then steered the car down the graveled
driveway to the garage, while Ben closed the gate. Dr. Lazaro sat there a moment, in the stillness,
resting his eyes, conscious of the measured beating of his heart, and breathing a scent of dust
that lingered on his clothes, his skin. Slowly he emerged from the car, locking it, and went around
the tower of the water-tank to the front yard where Ben Stood waiting.
With unaccustomed tenderness he placed a hand on Ben’s shoulder was they turned
toward the cement –walled house. They had gone on a trip; they had come home safely
together. He felt closer to the boy than he had ever been in years.
“Sorry for keeping you up this late,” Dr. Lazaro said.
“It’s all right, Pa.”
Some night, huh, Ben? What you did back in that barrio” – there was just the slightest
patronage in this one –“your mother will love to hear about it.”
He shook the boy beside him gently. “Reverend Father Ben Lazaro.”
The impulse of certain humor – it was part of the comradeship. He chuckled drowsily:
father Lazaro, what must I do to gain eternal life?”
As he slid the door open on the vault of darkness, the familiar depth of the house, it
came to Dr. Lazaro faintly in the late night that for certain things, like love there was only so
much time. But the glimmer was lost instantly, buried in the mist of indifference and sleep rising
now in his brain.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions:

1. Why does the narrator describe Dr. Lazaro as "indifferent"? Moreover, why is Dr. Lazaro's
indifference is likened to an "infection"?
2. How would you relate his blunt energy to earlier descriptions of Dr. Lazaro's dutifulness and
indifference?

51
 3. Why does Brillantes name his protagonist "Dr. Lazaro"? Relate this to the Biblical allusion of
Lazarus.
4. What is the significance of the scene where Dr. Lazaro tries to cure the child? Why does Dr.
Lazaro find it strange that the child should still have "the spark that persisted within [its]
rigid and tortured body"?
5. At the end of the story, did Dr. Lazaro change or did he remain the same?
6. What is the relation between faith, love and time? (5 points)

TOPIC 5: REGION 4

Region 4 is divided into 2 groups the one is Calabarzon (/ká-lɑ-bɑr-zon/), formally

known as the Southern Tagalog Mainland and designated as Region IV-A, is an
administrative region in the Philippines. The region comprises five provinces: Batangas,
Cavite, Laguna, Quezon, and Rizal and one highly urbanized city, Lucena. The region is the
most populous region in the Philippines according to the Philippine Statistics Authority,
having over 14.4 million inhabitants in 2015, and is also the country's second most densely
populated after the National Capital Region.
The region is situated southeast of Metro Manila, and is bordered by the Manila Bay
to the west, Lamon Bay and the Bicol Region to the east, the Tayabas Bay and Sibuyan Sea to
the south, and Central Luzon to the north. It is home to places like Mount Makiling near Los
Baños, Laguna and the Taal Volcano in Batangas.
Prior to its creation as a region, Calabarzon, together with the Mimaropa region, the
province of Aurora and several parts of Metro Manila, formed the historical region known as
Southern Tagalog, until they were separated in 2002 by virtue of Executive Order No. 103.
The history of the area known as Calabarzon dates back to early historic times. Local
historians believe that three of the tenth century place-names mentioned in the Philippines'
earliest known written document, the Laguna Copperplate Inscription, pertain to regions or
polities (Tagalog: "bayan") along the shores of Laguna Lake;and some Filipino-Chinese
scholars believe the tenth century trading polity known as Ma-i may actually have been the
predecessor of the present day town of Bay, Laguna Since the Philippines' colonial period,
the region has served as home to some of the most important Philippine historical figures,
including the Philippines' national hero, José Rizal, who was born in Calamba.
And the other one is Mimaropa, formally known as the Southwestern Tagalog
Region, is an administrative region in the Philippines. It was also formerly designated as
Region IV-B until 2016. It is one of two regions in the country having no land border with
another region (the other being Eastern Visayas). The name is an acronym combination of its
constituent provinces: Mindoro (divided into Occidental Mindoro and Oriental Mindoro),
Marinduque, Romblon and Palawan.
The region was part of the now-defunct Southern Tagalog region until May 17,
2002. On May 23, 2005, Palawan and the highly urbanized city of Puerto Princesa were
moved to the region of Western Visayas by Executive Order No. 429. However, on August 19,
2005, then-President Arroyo issued Administrative Order No. 129 to put in abeyance
Executive Order No. 429 pending a review. On July 17, 2016, Republic Act No. 10879 formally
established the Southwestern Tagalog Region to be known as Mimaropa discontinuing the
"Region IV-B" designation, however no boundary changes were involved. Calapan is
Mimaropa's regional center. However, most regional government offices such as the
Department of Public Works and Highways and the Department of Budget and Management
are in Quezon City, Metro Manila.
Famous Writers in Region 4
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alejandro_G._Abadilla

1. ALEJANDRO G. ABADILLA
(March 10, 1906 – August 26, 1969), commonly known as AGA, was a Filipino poet,
essayist and fiction writer. Critic Pedro Ricarte referred to Abadilla as the father of modern
Philippine poetry, and was known for challenging established forms and literature's
"excessive romanticism and emphasis on rhyme and meter". Abadilla helped found the
Kapisanang Panitikan in 1935 and edited a magazine called Panitikan. His Ako ang Daigdig
collection of poems is one of his better known works.

2. JOSÉ PROTASIO RIZAL MERCADO Y ALONSO REALONDA

52
 (Spanish pronunciation: [xoˈse riˈsal]; June 19, 1861 – December 30, 1896) was a
Filipino nationalist and polymath during the tail end of the Spanish colonial period of the
Philippines. He is tagged as the national hero (pambansang bayani) of the Filipino people.
An ophthalmologist by profession, Rizal became a writer and a key member of the Filipino
Propaganda Movement, which advocated political reforms for the colony under Spain.
He was executed by the Spanish colonial government for the crime of rebellion after
the Philippine Revolution, inspired in part by his writings, broke out. Though he was not
actively involved in its planning or conduct, he ultimately approved of its goals which
eventually led to Philippine independence.
He is widely considered one of the greatest heroes of the Philippines and has been
recommended to be so honored by an officially empaneled National Heroes Committee.
However, no law, executive order or proclamation has been enacted or issued officially
proclaiming any Filipino historical figure as a national hero. He was the author of the novels
Noli Me Tángere and El filibusterismo, and a number of poems and essays.

3. Jose Y. Dalisay Jr.

(Born January 15, 1954) is a Filipino writer. He has won numerous awards and prizes for
fiction, poetry, drama, non-fiction and screenwriting, including 16 Palanca Awards.

4. PAZ LATORENA
http://rizal.lib.admu.edu.ph/aliww/english_platorena.html
Was born in Boac, Marinduque in 1907. At a young age she was brought to Manila
where she completed her basic schooling, first at St. Scholastica and later at South High
School. In 1925 she enrolled at the University of the Philippines for a degree in education.
Working by day as an elementary school teacher, she attended evening classes. One of these
was a short story writing class conducted by Mrs. Paz Marquez Benitez. It was not long
before Mrs. Benitez invited Latorena to write a column in the Philippines Herald, of which
she was then literary editor. In 1927 Latorena joined some campus writers to form the U.P.
Writers Club and contributed a short story, “A Christmas Tale” to the maiden issue of “The
Literary Apprentice. That same year, her short story “The Small Key” won third place in Jose
Garcia Villa’s Roll of Honor for the year’s best short stories. Some of her other stories
received similar prizes over the next several years.
In her senior year, Latorena transferred to the University of Sto. Tomas, from which
institution she graduated in 1930 and where she subsequently enrolled for graduate studies.
Her dissertation entitled “Philippine Literature in English: Old Voices and New” received a
grade of sobre saliente, qualifying her for a doctoral degree in 1934. By this time, Latorena
had already joined the faculty, earning a reputation as a dynamic teacher. Among her many
students were then-aspiring writers Juan Gatbonton, F. Sionil Jose, Nita Umali, Genoveva
Edroza Matute and Zeneida Amador. Increasingly involved in academic work, Latorena
wrote fewer stories and at longer intervals, publishing her last known story, “Miguel Comes
Home”, in 1945. In 1953 while proctoring a final examination, Latorena suffered a cerebral
hemorrhage which proved fatal.

5. PAZ MARQUEZ-BENITEZ
http://rizal.lib.admu.edu.ph/aliww/english_pmbenitez.html
Tall and elegantly attired in full terno, she was a familiar figure on the campus of the
pre-war University of the Philippines. She was Paz Marquez Benitez, beloved mentor to the
first generation of Filipino writers in English. Inspiring many students who later became
literary luminaries, she had an enduring influence on the emergence and development of
Philippine literature in English.
Born to the prominent Marquez family of Quezon Province, Marquez Benitez belonged
to the first generation of Filipinos trained in the American educational system. She was a
member of the first freshman class of the University of the Philippines, graduating with a
Bachelor of Arts degree in 1912. She taught at the University’s English department from
1916 to 1951, acquiring a reputation as an outstanding teacher. Among her students were
Loreto Paras Sulit, Paz Latorena, Bienvenido Santos, Manuel Arguilla, S.P. Lopez and National
Artist Francisco Arcellana, who later emphatically declared, “She was the mother of us all!”
Among ALIWW’s prized exhibits are the journals of Paz Marquez Benitez, which are
inscribed in two hard-bound volumes. The entries, written by hand in both pencil and ink,
date from 1924 and extend for an as yet undetermined number of years. Of special interest
to literary scholars are her notes on the tentative plot and setting of her short story, “Dead
Stars.” This story, first published in 1925 and regularly anthologized since, is considered the
first modern short story written in English by a Filipino.

53
 6. Maximo M. Kalaw
https://tl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maximo_Kalaw

(1891-1955) ay dating Dekano sa Kolehiyo ng Sining at Agham sa Unibersidad ng

Pilipinas (1920-1937) at Pinuno ng Kagawaran ng Agham Pampolitika (1916-1937) bago siya
nahalal na kinatawan sa National Assembly ng Pilipinas mula 1935-1941. Nagtapos siya ng
B.A. sa George Washington University, LL.B. sa Georgetown University at Ph.D. sa University
of Michigan at bumalik sa Pilipinas upang maging propesor, manunulat at tagapayo sa mga
independence missions na pinangunahan nila Manuel Quezon at Sergion Osmena. Naging
editor din siva ng College Folio, ang unang pahayagang lumabas sa Unibersidad ng Pilipinas.
Siya and kauna-unahang visiting professor ng Pilipinas (sa University of Michigan noong
1923-1924).
Isa sa kanyang mga naisulat ay ang My Ideal University. Dito ay binanggit niya ang pagsang-ayon sa
pagdadala ng pamantasan sa pamayanan. Ang karamihan sa kanyang mga nasulat ay mga aklat na
tungkol sa politika at pamahalaan. Sumulat din siya ng dula. Ang itinuturing na pinakamahusay
niyang dula ay ang The Filipino Rebel na ang paksa ay himagsikan.
7. HORACIO DE LA COSTA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horacio_de_la_Costa
(May 9, 1916 – March 20, 1977) was the first Filipino Provincial Superior of the
Society of Jesus in the Philippines, and a recognized authority in Philippine and Asian culture
and history. A brilliant writer, scholar, and historian, Horacio de la Costa was born in
Maúban, Quezon on May 9, 1916 to Judge Sixto de la Costa and Emiliana Villamayor.
Ordained a Jesuit priest at the age of 30, he became, at age 55, the first Filipino provincial
superior of this religious order, the Society of Jesus.
Horacio Luis de la Costa, SJ, an outstanding historian particularly on Philippine
history and culture, graduated from the Ateneo of Manila in 1935, and entered the Jesuit
novitiate at Novaliches. He returned later to the Ateneo to teach philosophy and history and
became known also as a writer and radio figure. In 1946 he was awarded the Medal of
Freedom by the US government for his role in helping American escapees from Japanese
prison camps. In 1951 he received his doctoral degree in history from Harvard University.
Two years later he rejoined the faculty of the Ateneo teaching history, and later became its
first Filipino dean and in 1969 the first Filipino Jesuit provincial superior in the Philippines. In
1971 he became general assistant and consultant to the newly elected Jesuit superior
general Pedro Arrupe. During all this time he authored many books and articles, played key
roles in a variety of organizations, and received many honors for his accomplishments. A key
document of the Jesuits' 32nd General Congregation, Jesuits Today, was entrusted to him to
prepare and was accepted by the fathers of the congregation virtually as presented. Father
de la Costa died of cancer in 1977.

8. NÉSTOR VICENTE MADALI GONZÁLEZ

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/N._V._M._Gonzalez
(September 8, 1915 – November 28, 1999) was a Filipino novelist, short story writer,
essayist and, poet. Conferred as the National Artist of the Philippines for Literature in 1997.

9. MARS RAVELO
http://dokumentaryonijuantagalog.weebly.com/mars-ravelos.html
(born October 9, 1916 in Tanza, Cavite, Philippines - September 12, 1988) was a prolific
writer, artist, illustrator and the recognized king of Philippine Komiks.He was the man
behind several popular characters that captivated generations of Filipinos since the late
1940s. His crisp and humorous lines, visualized into vivid and animated illustrations, have
engrossed readers of all ages. Perhaps this is also because of the range and depth of his
characters --- from the young to the elderly, from virtuous mortals to the superhuman. From
1950s to 1970s, Ravelo wrote and collaborated with other illustrators and writers to
produce more than 300 komiks stories. Many of these were adapted on screen. Who
wouldn’t recognize Darna, Dyesebel, Captain Barbell, Bondying, and Lastikman? These are
only some of Ravelo’s characters that have come to life beyond the realm of the printed
medium and successfully traversed into the world of cinema and other media. His komiks
novels also introduced readers to characters in melodrama and comedy like Roberta, Trudis
Liit, Ging, Maruja and Facifica Falayfay.
Mars Ravelo’s stories have brought us into the worlds of the fantasy and the
supernatural as well as into the lives of people like us. His works show us different views of
our joys and sorrows and our weaknesses and strengths. The popularity of komiks may have
dwindled in recent years, but his characters will remain part of Philippine pop culture.

54
 10. DIOSDADO G. ALESNA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diosdado_G._Alesna
(Born May 18, 1909, date of death unknown) was a Cebuano Visayan writer. His
recognized pen-names include Diody Mangloy, Rigor Tancredo, Reynaldo Lap, Buntia, La
Roca, Melendres, and Flordeliz Makaluluoy

1. Our Mother Tongue

http://jesterwrites.blogspot.com/2015/10/poem-review-our-mother-tongue-by-rizal.html
Our Mother Tongue
A poem originally in Tagalog written by Rizal when he was only eight years old

IF truly a people dearly love

The tongue to them by Heaven sent,
They'll surely yearn for liberty
Like a bird above in the firmament.

BECAUSE by its language one can judge

A town, a barrio, and kingdom;
And like any other created thing
Every human being loves his freedom.

ONE who doesn't love his native tongue,

Is worse than putrid fish and beast;
AND like a truly precious thing
It therefore deserves to be cherished.

THE Tagalog language's akin to Latin,

To English, Spanish, angelical tongue;
For God who knows how to look after us
This language He bestowed us upon.

AS others, our language is the same

With alphabet and letters of its own,
It was lost because a storm did destroy
On the lake the bangka 1 in years bygone.
Task/Activity
In a separate sheet of paper give your insight about the poem. Discuss briefly.

*Basic Homework Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage
Neatness, Completion, Accuracy 40%
Timeliness 30%
Work Shown 30%
100%

2. The Legend of the Tagalogs

https://dokumen.tips/documents/the-legend-of-the-tagalogs.html

“The Legend of the Tagalogs”

In a certain wide region of Luzon, there was a village frequented by young men. This
town was full of trees, beautiful flowers and a river where clear waters are flowed. What
attracted the young men more than the scenery was a beautiful nymph-like maiden.
The maiden was Maria and she had lots of suitors who came from afar and who fought
for her hand. But Maria remained unconcerned and very choosy. Because she was kind, her
suitors remained undaunted so Maria thought of a plan. She called all the young men
together and told them,
“You are all good and Kind and it is difficult to choose among you. Let me decide with a
test.”

“I'll marry the man who can bring me a big, live and strong serpent,” Maria said in Jest.

55
 The young men were dumbfounded. After a while, the voice of Ilog broke the silence.
I promise to bring you one, Maria. Even if I have to risk my life, I'll bring what you wish.
Ilog was a man known for his bravery. He left immediately to fulfill his promise.
The men whispered among themselves. They were sure that Ilog will never be able to
return. They waited for a long while but Ilog had not returned. Even Maria was saddened
because she also grieved the loss of a man as brave and accommodating Ilog.
After many hours, Ilog returned. They crowded to see how Ilog prove his bravery. Ilog
held a big snake by its nape and tail.
While the men were thus occupied, two Spaniards passed by. Their attend was caught
not by what Ilog held a big snake by its nape and tail.
“Marie”, heroically called Ilog. I've brought you the serpent you wished for. What else
do you want me to do to make you happy?
“Cut it up”, shouted Maria.
The Spaniards were startled. They asked the people around where they were and in
what place they were in but nobody paid attention for their attention was focused on the
snake and on Maria. When Maria saw that the snake was still struggling, she shouted.
“Taga, Ilog! Taga Ilog!” (Cut Ilog, Cut Ilog!) Which she addressed to Ilog so he would cut
the snake up again.
The two Spaniards, thinking that this was in answer to their question repeated the
words TAGAILOG, TAGAILOG which later became TAGALOG.

Task/Activity
Make a reflection paper about this story.

*Basic Homework Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage
Neatness, Completion, Accuracy 40%
Timeliness 30%
Work Shown 30%
100%

3. The Legend of Maria Makiling

http://myths.e2bn.org/mythsandlegends/userstory20017-mariang-makiling.html

Mariang Makiling
Mt. Makiling, Laguna, Philippines

Long ago, in Mount Makiling, there lived a beautiful goddess name Mariang Makiling. She is
beautiful, kindhearted and loving. She had a long shiny black hair and she often wear black
pearls and gold jewelry. She often shows off herself to people living at the foot of the mountain
as a human. Many times, people would climb up to the mountain and pick some fruits but when
they came down, fruits changed into gold. People thanked her for it.
But one day, some people robbed her jewelry. Some hunters climb up the mountain and
hunted for wild animals, cut down trees and left the forest at the top of the mountain denuded.
At that time, one of those hunters is a mortal which Mariang Makiling fell in love with. She
discovered that that hunter already has a mortal as his wife. After those things happened,
Mariang Makiling was very angry that it thundered and rained hard that night and her voice was
heard by all people leaving at the foot of the mountain saying "I have provided you food,
treasures and shelter but it wasn't enough for you! I have given you everything you want but still
you aren't contented. I loved you more than myself but still you searched for mortal love. Now,
feel my anger! And wait for my revenge! From now on, you shall stand on your own feet and you
will never see me again. I swear!" And she laughed so hard that it brought an earthquake.
After her large voice was heard, she never showed herself again to those mortals who
abused her kindness. Today, it is still believed that Mariang Makiling is still living there.

Task/Activity

Answer the following questions:

1.) What symbolizes the Legend of Maria Makiling?

56
 2.) How does the legend of Maria Makiling affect the lives of the people living around Mt.
Makiling?
3.) Where did Maria Makiling came from?
4.) Did Maria and the hunter have a child?

TOPIC 6: REGION 5

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bicol_Region

The Bicol Region (Central Bicolano: Rehiyon nin Bikol/Kabikolan/Bicolandia;

Rinconada Bicol: Rehiyon ka Bikol; Tagalog: Kabikulan), also known simply as Bicol and
historically known as Ibalong prior to Spanish colonization, is a region of the Philippines,
designated as Region V. Bicol comprises six provinces, four on the Bicol Peninsula mainland
(the southeastern end of Luzon) – Albay, Camarines Norte, Camarines Sur, and Sorsogon –
and the offshore island provinces of Catanduanes and Masbate.
The regional center and largest city is Legazpi City. The region is bounded by the
Lamon Bay to the north, Philippine Sea to the east, and the Sibuyan Sea and Ragay Gulf to
the west. The northernmost provinces, Camarines Norte and Camarines Sur, are bordered to
the west by the province of Quezon.

FAMOUS WRITERS IN REGION 5

https://tl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ricardo_Lee

1. RICARDO A. LEE
Kilala bilang Ricky Lee ay isang manunulat mula sa Pilipinas. Higit siyang popular
bilang isa sa itinuturing na pinakamahusay na scriptwriter ng bansa sa larangan ng pelikula
at telebisyon, bagamat kilala rin siya sa kanyang masining na kontribusyon sa larangan ng
maikling kuwento, nobela, dula at pamamahayag.
Nakapagsulat na siya nang mahigit sa 150 naisapelikulang iskrip mula pa noong
1973. Nakapagtamo na siya nang mahigit 50 tropeo mula sa iba't ibang samahang
pampelikula; kabilang na dito ang isang Natatanging Gawad Urian. Marami sa kanyang mga
pelikula ay naipalabas na sa Cannes, Toronto, Berlin at iba pang mga internasyunal na film
festivals. Kabilang dito ang Himala, Moral, Brutal, Relasyon, Karnal, Bulaklak ng Maynila,
Gumapang Ka sa Lusak, Jaguar, Salome, The Flor Contemplacion Story, Dolzura Cortes,
Muru-Ami, Bagong Buwan, Rizal, Nasaan Ka Man, Madrasta, Anak at Dubai.
Bilang fiksiyunista, mandudula at mamamahayag, si Lee ay nakapagkamit din ng
maraming pagkilala sa pagsusulat ng fiksiyon mula sa Pilipino Free Press, Don Carlos Palanca
Memorial Awards for Literature at Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas. Noong 2000,
hinirang din siya bilang isa sa 100 Artista na pinarangalan ng Cultural Center of the
Philippines ng Centennial Honors for the Arts award.
Si Lee ang naglathala ng unang libro ng mga iskrip sa Pilipinas, ang Brutal/Salome.
Naglabas din siya noong 1988 ng isang manwal sa pagsusulat ng iskrip, ang Trip to Quiapo,
na naging isang bestseller at isang rekisitong teksto sa mga kursong pangkomunikasyon sa
bansa. Ang iba pa niyang publikasyon ay ang mga sumusunod: Si Tatang at mga Himala ng
Ating Panahon, isang antolohiya ng kanyang mga sanaysay, lathalain at ang iskrip ng Himala,
na nagkamit ng CNN Award for Best Asia-Pacific Film of All Time noong 2009); Moral (iskrip),
at; Pitik-Bulag sa Buwan ng Pebrero (dula). Nagwagi din ng Philippine National Book Award
ang dalawang libro niya ng iskrip: Brutal/Salome (1981) at, kasama sina Jun Lana at Peter
Ong Lim, Screenplay ng "Jose Rizal" (1999). Noong 2009, naglathala din siya ng ispesyal na
edisyon ng mga librong Si Tatang... at Trip to Quiapo.
Noong Nobyembre 2008, inilabas niya ang kanyang unang nobelang Para Kay B (o
kung paano dinevastate ng pag-ibig ang 4 out of 5 sa atin) na mainit na tinanggap ng mga
mambabasa. Ang kanyang pangalawang nobela, Si Amapola sa 65 na Kabanata, ay
matagumpay ring inilunsad noong Nobyembre 2011.
Mula pa noong 1982, nagbibigay din si Lee ng libreng scriptwriting workshop sa
kanyang tahanan para sa mga nagsisimulang manunulat. Daan-daang scriptwriters na ang
dumaan sa kanyang workshop at lumilikha na ng kanilang marka sa industriya ng telebisyon
at pelikula. Noong 2000, kasama ng kanyang mga workshoppers, itinatag at pinamunuan ni
Lee ang Writers Studio (ngayo'y Philippine Writers Studio Foundation) bilang daluyan ng
pagkakaisa at pagtutulungan ng mga manunulat. Sa kasalukuyan, nagtatrabaho si Lee sa
ABS-CBN bilang Creative Manager at abala sa pagsusulat ng pangatlo niyang nobela. Isinilang
siya noong 19 Marso 1948 sa Daet, Camarines Norte.
57
 2. DONATO ÁLVAREZ
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donato_%C3%81lvarez
(1825 – September 23, 1913) was an Argentine general. He fought in the battle of Vuelta
de Obligado under the command of Lucio Mansilla. He joined Justo José de Urquiza in his
conflict against Juan Manuel de Rosas, and fought in the battle of Caseros. He also fought in
the Paraguayan War and the Conquest of the Desert. He died in Buenos Aires in September
23, 1913.

1. The Legend of Mayon Volcano

https://steemit.com/blog/@vincent1923/myth-and-the-legend-of-mayon-volcano

The Legend of Mayon Volcano

A long ago in a place called Ibalon, there lived a beautiful maiden. Her name was
Daragang Magayon (the beautiful one). She was the daugther of Makusog (the strong one),
chief of the tribe.
One day Daragang Magayon strolled down near the river. While crossing the river, she
stumbled down on a rock and fell quickly in the water. She was swiftly swept down the
stream by the current.
"Help me! Help me!" she cried. Fortunately, her cries were heard by Panganoron (the
proud one) and his body guard Amihan (the cold one). Pangaronon jumped into the river
and saved Daragang Magayon.
"Thank you for risking yoyr life to save me", she cried. "How can I repay you? My father
is the chief of our tribe. Surely, he will reward your heroism whatever it takes."
Her beauty immediately captivated Panganoron. He realized that he finally met the
perfect woman for him. At the same time, Daragang Magayon was attracted to him.
Panganoron asked Makusog's permission to marry Daragang Magayon. But makusog
could not permit them to marry. Tribal law forbade marriage outside of the clan. As tribe
leader he had to enforce the law. Yet, as a father, he wanted to make his daughter happy.
Meanwhile, Patuga (the eruptive one) learned about Panganoron's intention. Patuga
was the most ardent suitor of Daragang Magayon. For years he had been convincing her to
marry him, but to no avail.
One night, Patuga and his cohorts kidnapped Makusog. Then, he sent word to Daragang
Magayon that her father would die if she did not marry him. Without a choice, she acceded.
Only did Patuga release Makusog. Soon Patuga and Daragang Magayon were wed. But in the
midst of merrymaking, pandemonium broke out when Panganoron and his tribe arrived.
Fighting ensued between the two tribes. In a few minutes, Panganoron fatally struck Patuga.
However, during the skirmish, a poisoned arrow shot from nowhere fell on, Daragang
Magayon's breast.
Panganoron rushed to her aid as he kneeled over the dying Daragang Magayon, an
enemy hacked his head off.
After the battle, Daragang Magayon was buried and her death was mourned all over the
land. Where she was put to rest, a mountain mysteriously appeared.
This mountain is now known as Mayon. It is said that even death and, in another form,
she still haunted by the men who loved her. When Mayon is said to erupt, this is Patuga
challenging Panganoron. But when mayon is calmed, Panganoron is embracing her. The
tears of Panganoron are shed as rain at time in his grief.
Until today, many is still delighted by the love story behind the legend of the Mayon
Volcano.
Source: Local Government of Albay, Pavillion.

Task/Activity

Short Story Rubric

How would the legend of Daragang Magayon be told today? Create a short story.
CRITERIA Percentage
Writing Task
Understanding of Purpose & Audience 30%
Organizational Structure

58
 Use of Plot 30%
Use of Narrative Strategies
Language & Flow 40%
Grammar & Mechanics
100%

2. The Ignorant Poor Man and the Priest

https://www.scribd.com/doc/36350788/The-Ignorant-Poor-Man-and-the-Priest

THE IGNORANT POOR MAN AND THE PRIEST

A BIKOL FOLKTALE
Once there was a man who went to church on Sunday. For the first time in his life, he
heard the priest say: “Brethren, pray earnestly, and in your prayers ask Him
anything you want. If you ask him in earnest. He will give you what you ask.” The man
committ ed whist sentence to memory, and since he was very poor, he made up
his mind to ask God for some money. He went to church every day and prayed
devoutly. His prayer was as follows. “Oh, God! I ask Three to give me one hundred
pesos. If you should give me less t h a n t h a t a m o u n t e v e n a c e n t a v o l e s s , I
w i l l n o t g e t i t , f o r I n e e d o n e h u n d r e d pesos. You have said that anyone who
asks Thee earnestly will receive what he asks for. My God, hear my prayer. “The man
repeated the above prayer many ti mes while kneeling, and when he got ti red
he reti red. Some months elapsed, and the man went to church daily. The priest
began to take an interest in him. One day the priest woke up early and hid himself near the
place where the man was wont to kneel. He was surprised to hear the prayer of the man. He
then decided to see whether the man was true to his word or not. The next day, he put
ninety pesos near the place where the man used to kneel, and watched whether or not the
man would get the money since it was ten pesos less then what he asked for. When the
man arrived, he took up the money, and began to count the silver pieces. When he had
finished he said. “Oh, good God. I thank thee for hearing my prayers. But I asked you for one
hundred pesos. I also said that i would not get any amount less than that sum. But since
i am in need, I will get this with a happy heart, and r e m e m b e r , O G o d ,
t h a t y o u s ti l l o w e m e t e n p e s o s m o r e . ” A s t h i s m a n w a s
accustomed to saying his prayer very loud, when he uttered the last sentence of his prayer
the priest burst into laughter, where upon the man pocketed the money and went home.

Task/Activity

*** Shortfound
What are the moral lessons Answer
inRubric
this story?
CRITERIA Percentag
e

Correct Answer with Supporting Details 50%

Grammar & Mechanics 50%
100%

3. Scent of Apples
http://adoniemarstory.blogspot.com/2010/07/scent-of-apples-bienvenido-n-santos.html

Scent of Apples
Bienvenido N. Santos

When I arrived in Kalamazoo it was October and the war was still on. Gold and silver
stars hung on pennants above silent windows of white and brick-red cottages. In a backyard
an old man burned leaves and twigs while a gray-haired woman sat on the porch, her red
hands quiet on her lap, watching the smoke rising above the elms, both of them thinking the
same thought perhaps, about a tall, grinning boy with his blue eyes and flying hair, who
went out to war: where could he be now this month when leaves were turning into gold and
the fragrance of gathered apples was in the wind?

59
 It was a cold night when I left my room at the hotel for a usual speaking engagement. I
walked but a little way. A heavy wind coming up from Lake Michigan was icy on the face. If
felt like winter straying early in the northern woodlands. Under the lampposts the leaves
shone like bronze. And they rolled on the pavements like the ghost feet of a thousand
autumns long dead, long before the boys left for faraway lands without great icy winds and
promise of winter early in the air, lands without apple trees, the singing and the gold!
It was the same night I met Celestino Fabia, "just a Filipino farmer" as he called himself,
who had a farm about thirty miles east of Kalamazoo.
"You came all that way on a night like this just to hear me talk?"
"I've seen no Filipino for so many years now," he answered quickly. "So when I saw your
name in the papers where it says you come from the Islands and that you're going to talk, I
come right away."
Earlier that night I had addressed a college crowd, mostly women. It appeared they
wanted me to talk about my country, they wanted me to tell them things about it because
my country had become a lost country. Everywhere in the land the enemy stalked. Over it a
great silence hung, and their boys were there, unheard from, or they were on their way to
some little known island on the Pacific, young boys all, hardly men, thinking of harvest
moons and the smell of forest fire.
It was not hard talking about our own people. I knew them well and I loved them. And
they seemed so far away during those terrible years that I must have spoken of them with a
little fervor, a little nostalgia.
In the open forum that followed, the audience wanted to know whether there was much
difference between our women and the American women. I tried to answer the question as
best I could, saying, among other things, that I did not know that much about American
women, except that they looked friendly, but differences or similarities in inner qualities
such as naturally belonged to the heart or to the mind, I could only speak about with
vagueness.
While I was trying to explain away the fact that it was not easy to make comparisons, a
man rose from the rear of the hall, wanting to say something. In the distance, he looked
slight and old and very brown. Even before he spoke, I knew that he was, like me, a Filipino.
"I'm a Filipino," he began, loud and clear, in a voice that seemed used to wide open
spaces, "I'm just a Filipino farmer out in the country." He waved his hand toward the door. "I
left the Philippines more than twenty years ago and have never been back. Never will
perhaps. I want to find out, sir, are our Filipino women the same like they were twenty years
ago?"
As he sat down, the hall filled with voices, hushed and intrigued. I weighed my answer
carefully. I did not want to tell a lie yet I did not want to say anything that would seem
platitudinous, insincere. But more important than these considerations, it seemed to me
that moment as I looked towards my countryman, I must give him an answer that would not
make him so unhappy. Surely, all these years, he must have held on to certain ideals, certain
beliefs, even illusions peculiar to the exile.
"First," I said as the voices gradually died down and every eye seemed upon me, "First,
tell me what our women were like twenty years ago."
The man stood to answer. "Yes," he said, "you're too young . . . Twenty years ago our
women were nice, they were modest, they wore their hair long, they dressed proper and
went for no monkey business. They were natural, they went to church regular, and they
were faithful." He had spoken slowly, and now in what seemed like an afterthought, added,
"It's the men who ain't."
Now I knew what I was going to say.
"Well," I began, "it will interest you to know that our women have changed--but
definitely! The change, however, has been on the outside only. Inside, here," pointing to the
heart, "they are the same as they were twenty years ago. God-fearing, faithful, modest, and
nice."
The man was visibly moved. "I'm very happy, sir," he said, in the manner of one who,
having stakes on the land, had found no cause to regret one's sentimental investment.
After this, everything that was said and done in that hall that night seemed like an anti-
climax, and later, as we walked outside, he gave me his name and told me of his farm thirty
miles east of the city.
We had stopped at the main entrance to the hotel lobby. We had not talked very much
on the way. As a matter of fact, we were never alone. Kindly American friends talked to us,
asked us questions, said goodnight. So now I asked him whether he cared to step into the
lobby with me and talk.
"No, thank you," he said, "you are tired. And I don't want to stay out too late."

60
 "Yes, you live very far."
"I got a car," he said, "besides . . .”
Now he smiled, he truly smiled. All night I had been watching his face and I wondered
when he was going to smile.
"Will you do me a favor, please," he continued smiling almost sweetly. "I want you to
have dinner with my family out in the country. I'd call for you tomorrow afternoon, then
drive you back. Will that be alright?"
"Of course," I said. "I'd love to meet your family." I was leaving Kalamazoo for Muncie,
Indiana, in two days. There was plenty of time.
"You will make my wife very happy," he said.
"You flatter me."
"Honest. She'll be very happy. Ruth is a country girl and hasn't met many Filipinos. I
mean Filipinos younger than I, cleaner looking. We're just poor farmer folk, you know, and
we don't get to town very often. Roger, that's my boy, he goes to school in town. A bus takes
him early in the morning and he's back in the afternoon. He's nice boy."
"I bet he is," I agreed. "I've seen the children of some of the boys by their American
wives and the boys are tall, taller than their father, and very good looking."
"Roger, he'd be tall. You'll like him."
Then he said goodbye and I waved to him as he disappeared in the darkness.
The next day he came, at about three in the afternoon. There was a mild, ineffectual sun
shining, and it was not too cold. He was wearing an old brown tweed jacket and worsted
trousers to match. His shoes were polished, and although the green of his tie seemed faded,
a colored shirt hardly accentuated it. He looked younger than he appeared the night before
now that he was clean shaven and seemed ready to go to a party. He was grinning as we
met.
"Oh, Ruth can't believe it," he kept repeating as he led me to his car--a nondescript thing
in faded black that had known better days and many hands. "I says to her, I'm bringing you a
first class Filipino, and she says, aw, go away, quit kidding, there's no such thing as first class
Filipino. But Roger, that's my boy, he believed me immediately. What he is like, daddy, he
asks. Oh, you will see, I says, he's first class. Like you daddy? No, no, I laugh at him, your
daddy ain't first class. Aw, but you are, daddy, he says. So you can see what a nice boy he is,
so innocent. Then Ruth starts griping about the house, but the house is a mess, she says.
True it's a mess, it's always a mess, but you don't mind, do you? We're poor folks, you know.
The trip seemed interminable. We passed through narrow lanes and disappeared into
thickets, and came out on barren land overgrown with weeds in places. All around were
dead leaves and dry earth. In the distance were apple trees.
"Aren't those apple trees?" I asked wanting to be sure.
"Yes, those are apple trees," he replied. "Do you like apples? I got lots of 'em. I got an
apple orchard, I'll show you."
All the beauty of the afternoon seemed in the distance, on the hills, in the dull soft sky.
"Those trees are beautiful on the hills," I said.
"Autumn's a lovely season. The trees are getting ready to die, and they show their
colors, proud-like."
"No such thing in our own country," I said.
That remark seemed unkind, I realized later. It touched him off on a long deserted
tangent, but ever there perhaps. How many times did lonely mind take unpleasant detours
away from the familiar winding lanes towards home for fear of this, the remembered hurt,
the long lost youth, the grim shadows of the years; how many times indeed, only the exile
knows.
It was a rugged road we were traveling and the car made so much noise that I could not
hear everything he said, but I understood him. He was telling his story for the first time in
many years. He was remembering his own youth. He was thinking of home. In these odd
moments there seemed no cause for fear no cause at all, no pain. That would come later. In
the night perhaps. Or lonely on the farm under the apple trees.
In this old Visayan town, the streets are narrow and dirty and strewn with coral shells.
You have been there? You could not have missed our house, it was the biggest in town, one
of the oldest, and ours was a big family. The house stood right on the edge of the street. A
door opened heavily and you enter a dark hall leading to the stairs. There is the smell of
chickens roosting on the low-topped walls, there is the familiar sound they make and you
grope your way up a massive staircase, the bannisters smooth upon the trembling hand.
Such nights, they are no better than the days, windows are closed against the sun; they close
heavily. Mother sits in her corner looking very white and sick. This was her world, her
domain. In all these years, I cannot remember the sound of her voice. Father was different.

61
He moved about. He shouted. He ranted. He lived in the past and talked of honor as though
it were the only thing.
I was born in that house. I grew up there into a pampered brat. I was mean. One day I
broke their hearts. I saw mother cry wordlessly as father heaped his curses upon me and
drove me out of the house, the gate closing heavily after me. And my brothers and sisters
took up my father's hate for me and multiplied it numberless times in their own broken
hearts. I was no good.
But sometimes, you know, I miss that house, the roosting chickens on the low-topped
walls. I miss my brothers and sisters, Mother sitting in her chair, looking like a pale ghost in a
corner of the room. I would remember the great live posts, massive tree trunks from the
forests. Leafy plants grew on the sides, buds pointing downwards, wilted and died before
they could become flowers. As they fell on the floor, father bent to pick them and throw
them out into the coral streets. His hands were strong. I have kissed these hands . . . many
times, many times.
Finally, we rounded a deep curve and suddenly came upon a shanty, all but ready to
crumble in a heap on the ground, its plastered walls were rotting away, and the floor was
hardly a foot from the ground. I thought of the cottages of the poor colored folk in the
south, the hovels of the poor everywhere in the land. This one stood all by itself as though
by common consent all the folk that used to live here had decided to say away, despising it,
ashamed of it. Even the lovely season could not color it with beauty.
A dog barked loudly as we approached. A fat blonde woman stood at the door with a
little boy by her side. Roger seemed newly scrubbed. He hardly took his eyes off me. Ruth
had a clean apron around her shapeless waist. Now as she shook my hands in sincere delight
I noticed shamefacedly (that I should notice) how rough her hands were, how coarse and
red with labor, how ugly! She was no longer young and her smile was pathetic.
As we stepped inside and the door closed behind us, immediately I was aware of the
familiar scent of apples. The room was bare except for a few ancient pieces of second-hand
furniture. In the middle of the room stood a stove to keep the family warm in winter. The
walls were bare. Over the dining table hung a lamp yet unlighted.
Ruth got busy with the drinks. She kept coming in and out of a rear room that must have
been the kitchen and soon the table was heavy with food, fried chicken legs and rice, and
green peas and corn on the ear. Even as we ate, Ruth kept standing, and going to the kitchen
for more food. Roger ate like a little gentleman.
"Isn't he nice looking?" his father asked.
"You are a handsome boy, Roger," I said.
The boy smiled at me. You look like Daddy," he said.
Afterwards I noticed an old picture leaning on the top of a dresser and stood to pick it
up. It was yellow and soiled with many fingerings. The faded figure of a woman in Philippine
dress could yet be distinguished although the face had become a blur.
"Your . . . "I began.
"I don't know who she is," Fabia hastened to say. "I picked that picture many years ago
in a room on La Salle Street in Chicago. I have often wondered who she is."
"The face wasn't a blur in the beginning?"
"Oh, no. It was a young face and good."
Ruth came with a plate full of apples.
"Ah," I cried, picking out a ripe one. "I've been thinking where all the scent of apples
came from. The room is full of it."
"I'll show you," said Fabia.
He showed me a backroom, not very big. It was half-full of apples.
"Every day," he explained, "I take some of them to town to sell to the groceries. Prices
have been low.
I've been losing on the trips."
"These apples will spoil," I said.
"We'll feed them to the pigs."
Then he showed me around the farm. It was twilight now and the apple trees stood
bare against a glowing western sky. In apple blossom time it must be lovely here. But what
about wintertime?
One day, according to Fabia, a few years ago, before Roger was born, he had an attack
of acute appendicitis. It was deep winter. The snow lay heavy everywhere. Ruth was
pregnant and none too well herself. At first she did not know what to do. She bundled him in
warm clothing and put him on a cot near the stove. She shoveled the snow from their front
door and practically carried the suffering man on her shoulders, dragging him through the
newly made path towards the road where they waited for the U.S. Mail car to pass.

62
 Meanwhile snowflakes poured all over them and she kept rubbing the man's arms and legs
as she herself nearly froze to death.
"Go back to the house, Ruth!" her husband cried, "you'll freeze to death."
But she clung to him wordlessly. Even as she massaged his arms and legs, her tears
rolled down her cheeks. "I won't leave you," she repeated.
Finally, the U.S. Mail car arrived. The mailman, who knew them well, helped them board
the car, and, without stopping on his usual route, took the sick man and his wife direct to
the nearest hospital.
Ruth stayed in the hospital with Fabia. She slept in a corridor outside the patients' ward and
in the day time helped in scrubbing the floor and washing the dishes and cleaning the men's
things. They didn't have enough money and Ruth was willing to work like a slave.
"Ruth's a nice girl," said Fabia, "like our own Filipino women."
Before nightfall, he took me back to the hotel. Ruth and Roger stood at the door holding
hands and smiling at me. From inside the room of the shanty, a low light flickered. I had a
last glimpse of the apple trees in the orchard under the darkened sky as Fabia backed up the
car. And soon we were on our way back to town. The dog had started barking. We could
hear it for some time, until finally, we could not hear it anymore, and all was darkness
around us, except where the headlamps revealed a stretch of road leading somewhere.
Fabia did not talk this time. I didn't seem to have anything to say myself. But when
finally we came to the hotel and I got down, Fabia said, "Well, I guess I won't be seeing you
again."
It was dimly lighted in front of the hotel and I could hardly see Fabia's face. Without getting
off the car, he moved to where I had sat, and I saw him extend his hand. I gripped it.
"Tell Ruth and Roger," I said, "I love them."
He dropped my hand quickly. "They'll be waiting for me now," he said.
"Look," I said, not knowing why I said it, "one of these days, very soon, I hope, I'll be
going home. I could go to your town."
"No," he said softly, sounding very much defeated but brave, "Thanks a lot. But, you see,
nobody would remember me now."
Then he started the car, and as it moved away, he waved his hand.
"Goodbye," I said, waving back into the darkness. And suddenly the night was cold like
winter straying early in these northern woodlands.
I hurried inside. There was a train the next morning that left for Muncie, Indiana, at a
quarter after eight.

Task/Activity
SHORT ANSWER
Answer the question in essay form: RUBRIC
 What is the theme of the story by CRITERIA Percentage
*** Short Answer Rubric Correct Answer with 50%
Bienvenido Santos?
Supporting Details
Grammar & Mechanics 50%
TOPIC 7: REGION 6 100%
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Western_Visayas

Western Visayas (Hiligaynon: Kabisay-an Nakatundan; Tagalog: Kanlurang

Kabisayaan or Kanlurang Visayas) is an administrative region in the Philippines,
numerically designated as Region VI. It consists of six provinces (Aklan, Antique, Capiz,
Guimaras, Iloilo and Negros Occidental) and two highly urbanized cities (Bacolod City
and Iloilo City). The regional center is Iloilo City.[2] The region is dominated by the native
speakers of four Visayan languages: Kinaray-a, Hiligaynon, Aklanon and Capiznon. The
land area of the region is 20,794.18 km2 (8,028.68 sq mi), and with a population of
7,536,383 inhabitants, it is the most populous region in the Visayas.
On May 29, 2015, the region was realigned, when Western Visayas (Region VI)
lost both the province of Negros Occidental and the highly urbanized city of Bacolod to
the newly formed Negros Island Region. However, the region was dissolved, resulting in
the return of Negros Occidental and Bacolod to Western Visayas Region on August 9,
2017.

Region 6 Famous Writers

63
1. MERLIE M. ALUNAN (Born December 14, 1943, in Dingle, Iloilo) is a Filipina poet.
2. STEVAN JAVELLANA (1918–1977) was a Filipino novelist and short story writer in the
English language. He is also known as Esteban Javellana.
3. PETER SOLIS NERY. Is a Filipino poet, fictionist, author, and filmmaker. Writing in Hiligaynon,
he is a Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature Hall of Fame Awardee, the Cultural
Center of the Philippines (CCP) Literary Grant, and the All-Western Visayas Literary Contest
(National Commission for Culture and the Arts) winner. In 2015, he became the first Filipino
author to be invited to the Sharjah International Book Fair in the United Arab Emirates.
Writing in English, Filipino, and Hiligaynon, he has authored at least 20 books, and has
written screenplays. He wrote and edited newspapers in Iloilo City before becoming a nurse
in the United States.
4. JOHN IREMIL ERINE TEODORO (*November 14, 1973 in Maybato Norte, San Jose de
Buenavista, Antique, Philippines) is a Filipino writer, literary critic and cultural scholar. He is
also a considered to be a leading pioneer in Philippine gay literature and the most published
author in Kinaray-a.

1. Tungkung Langit and Alunsina

https://www.aswangproject.com/tungkung-langit-alunsina/

Tungkung Langit and Alunsina

Creation Myth

In the beginning everything was shapeless and formless.

The earth, the sky, the sea, and the air were almost mixed up. In a
word, there was only confusion. Then from the depth of this
formless void there appeared the god Tungkung Langit and the
goddess Alunsina.
It was not known just where these two deities came from
but it is related by old Bisayan folk that Tungkung Langit fell in love with Alunsina. After he
had courted her for many years, they married and made their home in the highest part of
heaven. There the water was always warm and the breeze was forever cool. In this place
order and regularity began.
Tungkung Langit was a loving, hard-working god. He wanted to impose order over
the confused world. He decided to arrange the world so that the heavenly bodies would
move regularly. On the other hand, Alunsina was a lazy, jealous, selfish goddess. She sat at
the window all day doing nothing.
Sometimes she would leave her home, sit down by a pool near the door, and comb
her long, jet-black hair all day long. One day Tungkung Langit told his wife that he would be
away for some time. He said he must make time go on smoothly and arrange everything in
the world.
When he was gone, Alunsina set the breeze to spy on
Tungkung Langit. Tungkung Langit found this out and he became
very angry. After he returned home, he told her that it was
ungodly of her to be jealous since there were no other gods in the
world except the two of them.
Alunsina resented this reproach, and they quarreled. In
his anger, Tungkung Langit drove his wife away. No one knew
where she went. Several days later, Tungkung Langit felt very lonely. He realized that he
should not have lost his temper. But it was too late.
Once vibrant with Alunsina’s sweet voice, his home became cold and desolate. In
the morning when he woke up, he would find himself alone. In the afternoon when he came
home, he would feel the same loneliness creeping deep in his heart because there was no
one to meet him at the doorstep or soothe the aching muscles of his arms.
For months, Tungkung Langit was in utter desolation. He could not find Alunsina, try
hard as he would. And so, in desperation, he decided to do something in order to forget his
sorrows. For months and months he thought, but his mind seemed pointless; his heart
weary and sick. He needed something to ease his lonely world.
One day, while he was sailing across the regions of the clouds, a thought came to
him. He would make the sea and the earth, and the earth and the sea suddenly appeared.
However, the sombre sight of the lonely sea and the barren land irritated him. So he came
down to earth and planted the ground with trees and flowers.

64
 Then he took his wife’s treasured jewels and scattered them in the sky, hoping that
when Alunsina would see them she might be induced to return home. The goddess’s
necklace became the stars, her comb the moon and she crown the sun. However, despite
Tungkung Langit’s efforts, Alunsina did not come back.
Until now, some elders of Panay say Tungkung Langit
lives alone in his palace in the skies. Sometimes, he would cry
out his pent-up emotion and his tears would fall down upon the
earth. When it thunders hard, it is Tungkung Langit sobbing,
calling for his beloved Alunsina to come back, entreating her so
hard that his voice reverberates across the fields and the
countryside.

2. Hinilawod
https://hinilawod.wordpress.com/the-story/

HINILAWOD
When the goddess of the eastern sky Alunsina (also known as Laun Sina, “The
Unmarried One”) reached maidenhood, the king of the gods, Kaptan, decreed that she
should marry. All the unmarried gods of the different domains of the universe tried to win
her hand to no avail. She chose to marry a mortal, Datu Paubari, the mighty ruler of
Halawod.
Her decision angered her other suitors. They plotted to bring harm to the
newlyweds. A meeting of the council of gods was called by Maklium-sa-t’wan, god of the
plains, where a decision by those present was made to destroy Halawod by flood.
Alunsina and Paubari escaped harm through the assistance of Suklang Malayon, the
goddess and guardian of happy homes and sister of Alunsina, who learned of the evil plot
and warned the two so they were able to seek refuge on higher ground.
After the flood waters subsided, Paubari and Alunsina returned to the plains secretly. They settled
near the mouth of the Halawod River.
Several months later Alunsina became pregnant and told Paubari to prepare the
siklot, things necessary for childbirth. She delivered a set of triplets and summoned the high
priest Bungot-Banwa to perform the rites of the gods of Mount Madya-as (the mountain
abode of the gods) to ensure the good health of the children. The high priest promptly made
an altar and burned some alanghiran fronds and a pinch of kamangyan. When the ceremony
was over he opened the windows of the north side of the room and a cold northernly wind
came in and suddenly the three infants were transformed into strong, handsome young
men.
Labaw Donggon, the eldest of the three, asked his mother to prepare his magic
cape, hat, belt and kampilan (sword) for he heard of a place called Handug where a beautiful
maiden named Angoy Ginbitinan lived.
The journey took several days. He walked across plains and valleys, climbed up
mountains until he reached the mouth of the Halawod River. When he finally met the
maiden’s father and asked for her hand in marriage, the father asked him to fight the
monster Manalintad as part of his dowry. He went off to confront the monster and with the
help of his magic belt Labaw Donggon killed the monster and to prove his feat he brought to
Angoy Ginbitinan’s father the monster’s tail.
After the wedding, Labaw Donggon proceeded home with his new bride. Along the
way they met a group of young men who told him that they were on their way to
Tarambang Burok to win the hand of Abyang Durunuun, sister of Sumpoy, the lord of the
underworld and whose beauty was legendary.
Labaw Donggon and his bride continued on their journey home. The moment they
arrived home Labaw Donggon told his mother to take care of his wife because he is taking
another quest, this time he was going to Tarambang Burok.
Before he can get to the place he has to pass a ridge guarded by a giant named
Sikay Padalogdog who has a hundred arms. The giant would not allow Labaw Donggon to go
through without a fight. However, Sikay Padalogdog was no match to Labaw Donggon’s
prowess and skill in fighting so he gave up and allowed him to continue.
Labaw Donggon won the hand of Abyang Durunuun and also took her home. Before
long he went on another journey, this time it is to Gadlum to ask for the hand of Malitong
Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata who is the young bride of Saragnayan, the lord of darkness.
This trip required him to use his biday nga inagta (black boat) on which he sailed
across the seas for many months, went across the region of the clouds, and passed the land
65
of stones until finally he reached the shores of Tulogmatian which was the seaside fortress
of Saragnayan. The moment he set foot on the ground Saragnayan asked him, “Who are you
and why are you here?”
To which he answered, “I am Labaw Donggon, son of Datu Paubari and goddess
Alunsina of Halawod. I came for the beautiful Malitong Yawa Sinagmaling Diwata.”
Saragnayan laughed. He told Labaw Donggon that what he wished for was
impossible to grant because she was his wife. Labaw Donggon then challenged Saragnayan
to a duel saying that whoever wins will have her.
The challenge was accepted and they started fighting. Labaw Donggon submerged
Saragnayan under water for seven years, but when he let go of him, Saragnayan was still
alive. The latter uprooted a coconut tree and started beating Labaw Donggon with it. He
survived the beating but was not able to surpass the powers of Saragnayan’s pamlang
(amulet) and eventually he gave up and was imprisoned by Saragnayan beneath his house.
Back home Angoy Ginbitinan and Abyang Durunuun both delivered sons. Angoy
Ginbitinan’s child was named Aso Mangga and Abyang Durunuun’s son was called Abyang
Baranugon.
Only a few days after they were born, Aso Mangga and Abyang Baranugon
embarked to look for their father. They rode their sailboats through the region of eternal
darkness, passed the region of the clouds and the land of stones, finally reaching
Saragnayan’s home. Saragnayan noticed that Abyang Baranugon’s umbilical cord have not
yet been removed, he laughed and told the child to go home to his mother.
Abyang Baranugon was slighted by the remarks and immediately challenged
Saragnayan to a duel. They fought and Abyang Baranugon defeated Saragnayan and won his
father’s freedom.
Labaw Donggon’s defeat and subsequent imprisonment by the Lord of Darkness
also angered his brothers. Humadapnon was so enraged that he swore to the gods of
Madya-as that he would wreak revenge on all of Saragnayan’s kinsmen and followers.
Humadapnon prepared to go to Saragnayan’s domain. He employed the aid of
Buyong Matanayon of Mount Matiula who was well-known for his skill in swordsmanship.
For their journey they rode on a sailboat called biday nga rumba-rumba. They travelled
through the region of the clouds, passed by the region of eternal darkness and ended up at a
place called Tarambang Buriraw. In this place was a ridge called Talagas Kuting-tang where a
seductive sorceress named Piganun lived.
Piganun changed herself to a beautiful maiden and captured the heart of
Humadapnon. Buyong Matanayon begged with Humadapnon to leave the place with him
but the latter refused. After seven months passed, Buyong Matanayon remembered that
they have brought with them some ginger. One evening at dinner time Buyong Matanayon
threw seven slices of ginger into the fire. When Pinganun smelled the odor of burning ginger
she left the dinner table because sorcerers hated the odor of ginger. Immediately Buyong
Matanayon struck Humadapnon, who became unconscious. He dragged his friend with him
and they were able to escape.
They continued with their trek and everywhere they went they exacted revenge on
all of Saragnayan’s people and relatives. One day they reached a place called Piniling Tubig
who was ruled by Datu Umbaw Pinaumbaw. There was a big gathering in the village and
when they asked what was going on they were told that the datu was giving his daughter for
marriage to whoever could remove the huge boulder that rolled from a mountain into the
center of the village. Many men tried their luck but no one so far was able to even move the
stone.
Humadapnon took off his magic cape and used it to lift the stone and threw it back
into the mountain. The datu kept his word and Humadapnon married his daughter. During
the wedding feast Humadapnon heared about the beauty of the goddess of greed
Burigadang Pada Sinaklang Bulawan from a guest minstrel who sang at the celebration.
After the wedding Humadapnon went to seek the hand of the goddess in marriage.
Along the way he encountered Buyong Makabagting, son of the mighty Datu Balahidyong of
Paling Bukid who was also travelling with the same purpose in mind. Upon learning of
Humadapnon’s intent, Buyong Makabagting challenged him to a duel. They fought and
Buyong Makabagting was no match to Humadapnon’s strength and skill. The fight ended
when Buyong Makabagting surrendered and even promised to aid Humadapnon in his
quest. Humadapnon married the goddess and brought her home.
Meanwhile, right after Humadapnon left to seek Saragnayan’s followers and
relatives his brother Dumalapdap left for Burutlakan-ka-adlaw where the maiden Lubay-
Lubyok Hanginun si Mahuyokhuyokon lived. For the trip he brought along Dumasig, the
most powerful wrestler in Madya-as.

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 Several months later they came to a place called Tarambuan-ka-banwa where they
encountered the two-headed monster Balanakon who guarded a narrow ridge leading to the
place where the maiden lived.
With the aid of Dumasig, Dumalapdap killed Balanakon. However, upon
approaching the gate of the palace where the maiden lived he was confronted by Uyutang, a
bat-like monster with sharp poisonous claws. There ensued a bloody battle between the
Dumalapdap and the monster. They fought for seven months and their skill and prowess
seemed to be equal. But on the seventh month, Dumalapdap was able to grab on to
Uyutang’s ankle and broke it. Then he took his iwang daniwan (magic dagger) and stabbed
Uyutang under the armpit. Uyutang cried out so loud that the ridge where they were
fighting broke into two and there was an earthquake. Half of the ridge became the island of
Buglas (Negros) and the other became the island of Panay.
Dumalapdap married Lubay-Lubyok Hanginun si Mahuyokhuyokan and then took her
home. Datu Paubari was very happy when he was reunited with his three sons and he
prepared a feast in their honor. After the celebration, the three brothers left for different
parts of the world. Labaw Donggon went to the north, Humadapnon went south,
Dumalapdap to the west and Datu Paubari remained in the east.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions: (The same rubric for short answer will be used)
1. What imagery is created by the story of Tungkung Langit and Alunsina? Described it in
words or through drawing.
2. What event foreshadows the disappearance of Alunsina?
3. What do Tungkung Langit and Alunsina symbolize?
4. Is the selection a myth or a legend? Justify your answer.
5. What do you think is it like to live in a world without order?

3. Si Anabella
http://reginatalaogmail.blogspot.com/2011/03/si-anabella-ni-magdalena-jalandoni.html

“Si Anabella”
Isang pagunitang paglalakbay sa panahon ng dekada treinta ang kuwentong “Si
Anabella.” Isang gabing maliwanag ang buwan at mga bituin, hinarana ng binata ang dilag ng
kaniyang biyolin. Sa himig ng isang buong orkestra, sumayaw sila sa malawak na sala ng
malapalasyong tahanan ng binata. Nguni’t ang binata’y mayaman, at inilayo siya ng kaniyang Ina
sa kaniyang pinupusuan. Subalit buong tiyagang naghintay si Anabella sa pagbabalik nito, at sa
wakas sila ay muling nagsama. (“Anabella” is a nostalgic trip to the ‘30s. The beau serenades his
love with a violin on a moonlit and starry night, they dance in the spacious sala of his palatial
home to the strains of a full orchestra, and they are the envy of everyone on the dancefloor. But
he is rich and his mother takes him away from his lover. Anabella, however, waits patiently for
his return and eventually they are reunited.)
Kung magpatianod ang isang mambabasa sa romantikong tradisyon, maaari ngang
aakalin niyang may taglay itong mga romantikong sangkap na sa katunayan ay hindi naman
makikita sa kuwento mismo. Hindi naman lubhang mali ang ganitong paraan ng pagbasa kung
ipinapalagay na ang kuwentong “Si Anabella” ay akmang halimbawa ng isang makaluma’t
romantikong kuwento. Dagdag pa ni Villareal bilang komentaryo sa kuwento (1994, 13):
Maaaring sabihing pinapatibay ng “Si Anabella” ang puna ng mga manunuri hinggil sa kahinaan
ng panitikang bernakular sa Pilipinas: na ito’y dulot ng “malagkit na romantisismo,” “walang
kaingatan sa teknik,” pagkabuhaghag ng estruktura, “didaktisismo,” at “sentimentalismo.” (In a
way, “Anabella” confirms what critics have listed as the weaknesses of vernacular literature in
the Philippines: “a cloying romanticism,”).

Task/Activity

Make a reflection paper about this story. The same rubric for informal essay will be used.

TOPIC 8: REGION 7
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Central_Visayas

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 Central Visayas (Cebuano: Tunga-tungang Kabisay-an) is an administrative region in
the Philippines, numerically designated as Region VII. It consists of four provinces (Cebu,
Bohol, Negros Oriental, and Siquijor) and three highly urbanized cities (Cebu City, Lapu-Lapu,
and Mandaue). Major islands are the eponymous Cebu, Bohol, and Siquijor, together with
the eastern part of Negros. The regional center and largest city is Cebu City. The region is
dominated by the native speakers of four Visayan languages: Cebuano, Bantayanon,
Boholano, and Porohanon. The land area of the region is 15,895.66 km2 (6,137.35 sq mi),
and with a population of 7,396,898 inhabitants, it is the second most populous region in the
Visayas.
On May 29, 2015, the region was redefined, when Central Visayas (Region VII) lost
the province of Negros Oriental to the newly formed Negros Island Region. However, the
region was dissolved, with Negros Oriental returned to Central Visayas on August 9, 2017.

Region 7 Famous Writers

1. CECILIA MANGUERRA BRAINARD
Is an author and editor of 20 books. She co-founded PAWWA or Philippine American
Women Writers and Artists; and also founded Philippine American Literary House. Brainard's
works include the World War II novel, When the Rainbow Goddess Wept, The Newspaper
Widow, Magdalena, and Woman with Horns and Other Stories. She edited several anthologies
including Fiction by Filipinos in America, Contemporary Fiction by Filipinos in America, and two
volumes of Growing up Filipino I and II, books used by educators.

2. ESTRELLA ALFON
http://estrellaalfon.blogspot.com/2013/03/biography.html
Was born in San Nicolas, Cebu City on March 27, 1917. She went to medical school to
finish her medicinal studies but when she was misdiagnosed for having tuberculosis, she had
to withdraw from her studies. She finished her education with a degree in Associate of Arts
instead.
She became the first and only female member of the Veronicans, a group of writers in
the 1930s, prior to the Second World War, led by Francisco Arceuana and H.R. Ocampo.
They were recognized as the first group of Filipino writers who wrote almost exclusively in
English. She was named the most prolific Filipina writer prior to World War II. Estrella Alfon’s
first story was “Grey Confetti” which was published in 1935. One of her stories, Fairy Tale for
the City, was condemned by the catholic League of the Philippines for its being obscene.
When she was brought to court for the trial, some of her fellow writers stood by her but
some did not and that hurt her deeply.
She was appointed professor of the Creative Writing at the University of the
Philippines, Manila despite having only an Associate of Arts degree. In 1940, she won the
Honorable Mention in the Commonwealth Literary Award for writing her short story “Dear
Esmeralda”. She took home all the awards in the Arena Theater Play Writing Contest for four
of her outstanding plays namely, “Losers Keepers”, “strangers”, “Rice”, and “Beggar”. In
1961, she won the top prize in the Palanca Contest for her story “With Patches of Many
Hues”. On December 28, 1983, during the awards night of the Manila Film Festival, she
suffered a heart attack which led to her death the same night.

3. SIMEON DUMDUM JR.

(Born March 7, 1948) is a former Regional Trial Court Judge in Cebu City, The
Philippines, and is a published poet. He once studied for the priesthood in Galway, Ireland,
but left the seminary to take up law. After years of practicing law, he was appointed
Regional Trial Court judge. He won prizes for his poetry, which he has published and read in
the Philippines and abroad.

4. GÉMINO HENSON ABAD

Is a literary critic from Cebu, Philippines. His family moved to Manila when his father,
Antonio Abad, was offered professorships at Far Eastern University and the University of the
Philippines. He earned his A.B. English from the University of the Philippines Diliman in 1964
"magna cum laude". His MA with honors and Ph.D. in English literature degrees were
obtained from the University of Chicago in 1966 and 1970, respectively. He served the
University of the Philippines in various capacities: as Secretary of the University, Secretary of
the Board of Regents, Vice President for Academic Affairs and Director of the U.P. Institute
of Creative Writing. For many years, he also taught English, comparative literature and
creative writing at U.P. Diliman.

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 Abad co-founded the Philippine Literary Arts Council (PLAC) which published Caracoa,
a poetry journal in English. His other works include Fugitive Emphasis (poems, 1973); In
Another Light (poems and critical essays, 1976); A Formal Approach to Lyric Poetry (critical
theory, 1978); The Space Between (poems and critical essays, 1985); Poems and Parables
(1988); Index to Filipino Poetry in English, 1905-1950 (with Edna Zapanta Manlapaz, 1988)
and State of Play (letter-essays and parables, 1990). He edited landmark anthologies of
Filipino poetry in English, among them Man of Earth (1989), A Native Clearing (1993) and A
Habit of Shores: Filipino Poetry and Verse from English, ‘60s to the ‘90s (1999).
The UP Diliman has elevated Abad to the rank of University Professor, the highest
academic rank awarded by the university to an exemplary faculty member. He currently sits
on the Board of Advisers of the U.P. Institute of Creative Writing and teaches creative
writing as Emeritus University Professor at the College of Arts and Letters, U.P. Diliman. In
2009, he became the first Filipino to receive the coveted Premio Feronia in Rome, Italy
under the foreign author category.

5. TEMISTOKLES ADLAWAN
Is a contemporary Cebuano poet who often writes with irreverent humor usually
associated with Cebuano folk. Some of his writings expresses a greater sensitivity to gender
issues. He is a Bathalan-ong Halad sa Dagang (BATHALAD) member and is active in writers'
workshops sponsored by the Women in Literary Arts (WILA) and the Cebuano Studies Center
of the University of San Carlos, Cebu City.
6. PETER BACHO
Is a writer and teacher best known for his book Cebu which won the American Book
Award. His book is defined as Filipino American literature because of its explorations in
themes such as neocolonialism and Filipino-American identity.
7. MARJORIE EVASCO
Is an award- winning Filipino poet, born in Maribojoc, Bohol on September 21, 1953. She
writes in two languages: English and Cebuano-Visayan and is a supporter of women's rights,
especially of women writers. Marjorie Evasco is one of the earliest Filipina feminist poets. She is a
recipient of the S.E.A. Write Award.
8. EMENIANO ACAIN SOMOZA, JR.
Is also a fictionist, an essayist and a playwright? He hails from Siquijor Island, an island
in Central Visayas, south of the Philippine Archipelago.
Most of his stories have been published in Philippine Graphic, Philippines Free Press,
The Philippine Star, and anthologized in ANI Literary Journal of the Cultural Center of the
Philippines, The Salt River Review Volume 9, Number 2, Fall 2006, a literary journal published
by Miami University Press, and in the internationally refereed Philippine Studies of the
Ateneo University Press. His stories have also been archived online on CCP
SANGKOMUNIDAD Ambag-Akda, and on A Survey of Philippine Literature. He received a
degree in Bachelor of Mass Communication from Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila
(University of the City of Manila), and masteral units in Creative Writing from the University
of the Philippines-Diliman. He currently blogs at The Huffington Post.

9. ERNESTO SUPERAL YEE

https://www.panitikan.com.ph/content/ernesto-superal-yee
Isinilang si Yee noong Oktubre 29, 1953 sa Tanjay, Negros Oriental. Nagtapos siya
Business Administration major in Management Silliman University (SU). Kumuha naman siya
ng abogasiya at pumasa sa Bar noong 1983. Naglingkod siya sa Regional Trial Court ng
Dumaguete City at propesor ng Civil at Remedial Law sa SU. Kilala rin siya bilang manunulat
ng mga kuwentong piksiyon at tula. Isa sa mga tanyag na likha niya ay ang antolohiya ng mga
tulang About My Garden. Isinulat niya rin ang tulang “Making The Sign.” Sumakabilang-
buhay si Yee noong Mayo 23, 2009 sa kaniyang lupang sinilangang Tanjay

1. Sicalac and Sicavay

https://21stcenturylearnersaristo.wordpress.com/2017/03/05/sicalac-and-sicavay-a-visayan-creation-myth/

Sicalac and Sicavay

Once there were two gods, Captan and Maguayan. One day, Captan planted a bamboo
in a garden. It grew and split into two sections, and stepped out a man who was named
Sicalac and a woman named Sicavay. Sicalac asked Sicavay’s hand for marriage because
there were no other people on earth. She refused because they were brother and sister,
having been conceived out of the same reed. Sicalac persistently pleaded with her and
finally they decided to consult the tunas of the sea, the doves of the air and the earthquake,

69
 who agreed that they should marry so that the world will be populated. Finally, they
decided to go ahead and got married and had a son named Sibo. Then they had a daughter
named Samar. Sibo and Samar had a daughter named Luplupan who grew up and married
Pandaguan, who was also a son of Sicalac and Sicavay. Lupluban and Pandaguan had a son
named Anoranor. Pandaguan invented the fishing net and he caught a shark when he used
it but the shark did not survive for long out of the water. He cried loudly to the Gods. The
god Captan, sent the flies to find out why Pandaguan was making such a loud lamentation
but the flies refused to obey so they were condemned to scavenge among filthy and rotten
things from then on. Then, the god sent the weevils and he discovered about Pandaguan’s
grief and he struck him dead by a thunderbolt. Pandaguan stayed in the infernal regions but
the gods took pity on him and brought him back to the world. Pandaguan discovered that
his wife Luplupan became the concubine of Maracoyrun. Pandaguan got angry and went
back to infernal regions, vowing never to return to the world.

2. Letter to Pedro, US Citizen also Called Pete

https://dokumen.tips/documents/letter-to-pedro-a-us-citizen-also-called-pete-a-poem-analysis.html

Letter to Pedro, U.S. Citizen, Also Called Pete

By Rene Estella Amper
Pete, old friend;

There isn't really much change in our hometown since you left.
This morning I couldn't find anymore the grave of Simeona, the cat we buried at the foot of
Miguel's mango tree, when we were in grade four, after she was hit by a truck while crossing the
street. The bulldozer has messed it up while making the feeder road into the mountains to reach
the hearts of the farmers. The farmers come down every Sunday to sell their agony and their
sweat for a few pesos, lose in the cockpit or get the mayor owns a big sugar plantation, three
new cars, and a mansion with the gate overhung with sampaguita. Inside the gate are guys who
carry a rifle and a pistol.
We still go to Konga's store for rice and sardines and sugar and nails for the coffin. Still only a
handful go to mass on Sundays. In the church the men talk, sleep; the children play. The priest is
sad. Last night the storm came and blew away the cornflowers. The cornfields are full of cries.
Your cousin, Julia, has just become a whore. She liked good clothes, good food, and big money.
That's why she became a whore. Now our hometown has seven whores

P.S. Tasyo, the old goat, sends your lizard his warmest congratulations

Task/Activity

Make a reflection paper about the two stories.

*Basic Homework Rubric

CRITERIA Percentage
Neatness, Completion, Accuracy 40%
Timeliness 30%
Work Shown 30%
100%

3. Magnificence
https://www.oocities.org/phil_stories/alfon_magnificence.html

MAGNIFICENCE
ESTRELLA D. ALFON

There was nothing to fear, for the man was always so gentle, so kind. At night when the
little girl and her brother were bathed in the light of the big shaded bulb that hung over the
big study table in the downstairs hall, the man would knock gently on the door, and come in.
he would stand for a while just beyond the pool of light, his feet in the circle of illumination,
the rest of him in shadow. The little girl and her brother would look up at him where they sat
at the big table, their eyes bright in the bright light, and watch him come fully into the light,
but his voice soft, his manner slow. He would smell very faintly of sweat and pomade, but
the children didn’t mind although they did notice, for they waited for him every evening as
they sat at their lessons like this. He’d throw his visored cap on the table, and it would fall
70
down with a soft plop, then he’d nod his head to say one was right, or shake it to say one
was wrong.
It was not always that he came. They could remember perhaps two weeks when he
remarked to their mother that he had never seen two children looking so smart. The praise
had made their mother look over them as they stood around listening to the goings-on at
the meeting of the neighborhood association, of which their mother was president. Two
children, one a girl of seven, and a boy of eight. They were both very tall for their age, and
their legs were the long gangly legs of fine spirited colts. Their mother saw them with eyes
that held pride, and then to partly gloss over the maternal gloating she exhibited, she said to
the man, in answer to his praise, But their homework. They’re so lazy with them. And the
man said, I have nothing to do in the evenings, let me help them. Mother nodded her head
and said, if you want to bother yourself. And the thing rested there, and the man came in
the evenings therefore, and he helped solve fractions for the boy, and write correct phrases
in language for the little girl.
In those days, the rage was for pencils. School children always have rages going at one
time or another. Sometimes for paper butterflies that are held on sticks, and whirr in the
wind. The Japanese bazaars promoted a rage for those. Sometimes it is for little lead toys
found in the folded waffles that Japanese confection-makers had such light hands with. At
this particular time, it was for pencils. Pencils big but light in circumference not smaller than
a man’s thumb. They were unwieldy in a child’s hands, but in all schools then, where
Japanese bazaars clustered there were all colors of these pencils selling for very low, but
unattainable to a child budgeted at a baon of a centavo a day. They were all of five centavos
each, and one pencil was not at all what one had ambitions for. In rages, one kept a
collection. Four or five pencils, of different colors, to tie with strings near the eraser end, to
dangle from one’s book-basket, to arouse the envy of the other children who probably
possessed less.
Add to the man’s gentleness and his kindness in knowing a child’s desires, his promise
that he would give each of them not one pencil but two. And for the little girl who he said
was very bright and deserved more, ho would get the biggest pencil he could find.
One evening he did bring them. The evenings of waiting had made them look forward to
this final giving, and when they got the pencils they whooped with joy. The little boy had tow
pencils, one green, one blue. And the little girl had three pencils, two of the same
circumference as the little boy’s but colored red and yellow. And the third pencil, a jumbo
size pencil really, was white, and had been sharpened, and the little girl jumped up and
down, and shouted with glee. Until their mother called from down the stairs. What are you
shouting about? And they told her, shouting gladly, Vicente, for that was his name. Vicente
had brought the pencils he had promised them.
Thank him, their mother called. The little boy smiled and said, Thank you. And the little
girl smiled, and said, Thank you, too. But the man said, are you not going to kiss me for
those pencils? They both came forward, the little girl and the little boy, and they both made
to kiss him but Vicente slapped the boy smartly on his lean hips, and said, Boys do not kiss
boys. And the little boy laughed and scampered away, and then ran back and kissed him
anyway.
The little girl went up to the man shyly, put her arms about his neck as he crouched to
receive her embrace, and kissed him on the cheeks.
The man’s arms tightened suddenly about the little girl until the little girl squirmed out
of his arms, and laughed a little breathlessly, disturbed but innocent, looking at the man
with a smiling little question of puzzlement.
The next evening, he came around again. All through that day, they had been very proud
in school showing off their brand new pencils. All the little girls and boys had been envying
them. And their mother had finally to tell them to stop talking about the pencils, pencils, for
now that they had, the boy two, and the girl three, they were asking their mother to buy
more, so they could each have five, and three at least in the jumbo size that the little girl’s
third pencil was. Their mother said, Oh stop it, what you will do with so many pencils, you
can only write with one at a time.
And the little girl muttered under her breath, I’ll ask Vicente for some more.
Their mother replied, He’s only a bus conductor, don’t ask him for too many things. It’s a
pity. And this observation their mother said to their father, who was eating his evening meal
between paragraphs of the book on masonry rites that he was reading. It is a pity, said their
mother, People like those, they make friends with people like us, and they feel it is nice to
give us gifts, or the children toys and things. You’d think they wouldn’t be able to afford it.
The father grunted, and said, the man probably needed a new job, and was softening his
way through to him by going at the children like that. And the mother said, No, I don’t think

71
so, he’s a rather queer young man, I think he doesn’t have many friends, but I have watched
him with the children, and he seems to dote on them.
The father grunted again, and did not pay any further attention. Vicente was earlier than
usual that evening. The children immediately put their lessons down, telling him of the envy
of their schoolmates, and would he buy them more please? Vicente said to the little boy, Go
and ask if you can let me have a glass of water. And the little boy ran away to comply, saying
behind him, but buy us some more pencils, huh, buy us more pencils, and then went up to
stairs to their mother.
Vicente held the little girl by the arm, and said gently, Of course I will buy you more
pencils, as many as you want. And the little girl giggled and said, Oh, then I will tell my
friends, and they will envy me, for they don’t have as many or as pretty.
Vicente took the girl up lightly in his arms, holding her under the armpits, and held her
to sit down on his lap and he said, still gently, what are your lessons for tomorrow? And the
little girl turned to the paper on the table where she had been writing with the jumbo pencil,
and she told him that that was her lesson but it was easy.
Then go ahead and write, and I will watch you.
Don’t hold me on your lap, said the little girl, I am very heavy, you will get very tired.
The man shook his head, and said nothing, but held her on his lap just the same.
The little girl kept squirming, for somehow she felt uncomfortable to be held thus, her
mother and father always treated her like a big girl, she was always told never to act like a
baby. She looked around at Vicente, interrupting her careful writing to twist around.
His face was all in sweat, and his eyes looked very strange, and he indicated to her that
she must turn around, attend to the homework she was writing.
But the little girl felt very queer, she didn’t know why, all of a sudden she was
immensely frightened, and she jumped up away from Vicente’s lap.
She stood looking at him, feeling that queer frightened feeling, not knowing what to do.
By and by, in a very short while her mother came down the stairs, holding in her hand a glass
of sarsaparilla, Vicente.
But Vicente had jumped up too soon as the little girl had jumped from his lap. He
snatched at the papers that lay on the table and held them to his stomach, turning away
from the mother’s coming.
The mother looked at him, stopped in her tracks, and advanced into the light. She had
been in the shadow. Her voice had been like a bell of safety to the little girl. But now she
advanced into glare of the light that held like a tableau the figures of Vicente holding the
little girl’s papers to him, and the little girl looking up at him frightenedly, in her eyes dark
pools of wonder and fear and question.
The little girl looked at her mother, and saw the beloved face transfigured by some sort
of glow. The mother kept coming into the light, and when Vicente made as if to move away
into the shadow, she said.
She put the glass of soft drink down on the table, where in the light one could watch the
little bubbles go up and down in the dark liquid. The mother said to the boy, Oscar, finish
your lessons. And turning to the little girl, she said, Come here. The little girl went to her,
and the mother knelt down, for she was a tall woman and she said, Turn around. Obediently
the little girl turned around, and her mother passed her hands over the little girl’s back.
Go upstairs, she said
The mother’s voice was of such a heavy quality and of such awful timbre that the girl
could only nod her head, and without looking at Vicente again, she raced up the stairs. The
mother went to the cowering man, and marched him with a glance out of the circle of light
that held the little boy. Once in the shadow, she extended her hand, and without any
opposition took away the papers that Vicente was holding to himself. She stood there saying
nothing as the man fumbled with his hands and with his fingers, and she waited until he had
finished. She was going to open her mouth but she glanced at the boy and closed it, and
with a look and an inclination of the head, she bade Vicente go up the stairs.
The man said nothing, for she said nothing either. Up the stairs went the man, and the
mother followed behind. When they had reached the upper landing, the woman called
down to her son, Son, come up and go to your room.
The little boy did as he was told, asking no questions, for indeed he was feeling sleepy
already.
As soon as the boy was gone, the mother turned on Vicente. There was a pause. Finally,
the woman raised her hand and slapped him full hard in the face. Her retreated down one
tread of the stairs with the force of the blow, but the mother followed him. With her other
hand she slapped him on the other side of the face again. And so down the stairs they went,
the man backwards, his face continually open to the force of the woman’s slapping.

72
 Alternately she lifted her right hand and made him retreat before her until they reached the
bottom landing.
He made no resistance, offered no defense. Before the silence and the grimness of her
attack he cowered, retreating, until out of his mouth issued something like a whimper.
The mother thus shut his mouth, and with those hard forceful slaps she escorted him
right to the other door. As soon as the cool air of the free night touched him, he recovered
enough to turn away and run, into the shadows that ate him up. The woman looked after
him, and closed the door. She turned off the blazing light over the study table, and went
slowly up the stairs and out into the dark night.
When her mother reached her, the woman, held her hand out to the child. Always also,
with the terrible indelibility that one associated with terror, the girl was to remember the
touch of that hand on her shoulder, heavy, kneading at her flesh, the woman herself stricken
almost dumb, but her eyes eloquent with that angered fire. She knelt. She felt the little girl’s
dress and took it off with haste that was almost frantic, tearing at the buttons and imparting
a terror to the little girl that almost made her sob. Hush, the mother said. Take a bath
quickly.
Her mother presided over the bath the little girl took, scrubbed her, and soaped her,
and then wiped her gently all over and changed her into new clothes that smelt of the clean
fresh smell of clothes that had hung in the light of the sun. The clothes that she had taken
off the little girl, she bundled into a tight wrenched bunch, which she threw into the kitchen
range. Take also the pencils, said the mother to the watching newly bathed, newly changed
child. Take them and throw them into the fire. But when the girl turned to comply, the
mother said, No, tomorrow will do. And taking the little girl by the hand, she led her to her
little girl’s bed, made her lie down and tucked the covers gently about her as the girl
dropped off into quick slumber.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions: (The same rubric for short story will be used)
1. Describe the characters in the story Magnificence by Estrella Alfon.
2. What is the theme of Magnificence?
3. What is the climax of Magnificence?

TOPIC 9: REGION 8
Eastern Visayas (Waray: Sinirangan Kabisay-an; Cebuano: Sidlakang Kabisay-an;
Tagalog: Silangang Kabisayaan or Silangang Visayas) is an administrative region in the
Philippines, designated as Region VIII. It consists of three main islands, Samar, Leyte and
Biliran. The region has six provinces, one independent city and one highly urbanized city
namely, Biliran, Leyte, Northern Samar, Samar, Eastern Samar, Southern Leyte, Ormoc and
Tacloban. The highly urbanized city of Tacloban is the sole regional center. These provinces
and cities occupy the easternmost islands of the Visayas group of islands.
Eastern Visayas faces the Philippine Sea to the east. The region is known for its
famous landmark, the San Juanico Bridge, dubbed as the "Most Beautifully Designed and
Longest Bridge in the Philippines". As of 2015, the Eastern Visayas region has a population of
4,440,150 inhabitants, making it the third most populous region in the Visayas.

Famous Author in Region 8

1. FRANCISCO "SOC" ALDANA RODRIGO
(January 29, 1914 – January 4, 1998) was a Filipino playwright, lawyer, broadcaster, and
a Senator of the Third Congress (1955–1957), Fourth Congress (1958–1961), Fifth Congress
(1962–1965), and Sixth Congress (1966–1969) of the Republic of the Philippines.
In honor of in the struggle against the dictatorship of Ferdinand Marcos, his name was
inscribed on the Wall of Remembrance at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani in 1998 - the year in
which he died. A national cultural award named in his honor, the Gawad Soc Rodrigo is given
by the Philippines' Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (KWF) and National Commission for Culture
and the Arts (NCCA).

1. Bowaon and Totoon

https://dokumen.tips/documents/bowaon-and-totoon-56b4b72e3f3b2.html

Bowaon and Totoon

73
 Once upon a time, there were two friends, Bowaon and Totoon. They couldn’t find
work so they decided to go away from their place to look for their fortune somewhere. They
brought with them some rice and then they mounted their horses. As they went on, they got
hungry. From a distance, they saw a coral reef. They got off their horses and headed for the
reef to catch some fish. They caught schools of fish but these were very tiny. Totoon forgot
his hunger. He returned the fish he caught to the reef. Bowaon got angry. “How will we able
to eat?” he scolded Totoon. “Never mind Bowaon, they are so tiny; they will still grow
bigger,” Totoon replied.
They rode on their horses again. After a distance, they saw a dead man. Totoon
asked Bowaon to stop so they could bury the body. But Bowaon got angry, “Are you out of
mind? If somebody sees us, he’ll think we killed him.” “But we should show mercy. There is a
way of finding the truth. Well, if you won’t help me, then I will bury him by myself. You may
go onward if you please. I’ll follow later,” said Totoon.
Bowaon went ahead while Totoon dug a grave for the body. Then he carried the dead
person and buried him. He prayed over it then went on his journey. Bowaon could not bear to
leave him so he returned for Totoon. They therefore, set out together again. Trotting along, they
heard babies crying. They went towards the direction of the sounds. They found hungry baby
eagles in a nest.
“Let’s stop for a while and feed the eagles,” suggested Totoon. Then Bowaon saw that
Totoon was going to kill his horse. “Are you foolish? When they grow up they’ll prey on you. Let’s
go on, we’re already delayed,” Bowaon said. “Don’t mind me. I pity these baby eagles. Anyway,
no debt goes unpaid. Go ahead, I’ll just follow.”
“If you go on with your silly ideas, I’ll not give you a ride,” threatened Bowaon.
“Then I’ll walk,” decided Totoon. “Even if I go slowly, I’ll still reach my destination.”
After killing his horse, he fed the eagles. When they feel asleep, Totoon left. Bowaon
again returned to give Totoon a ride. Far ahead, they sighted a palace. “Let’s go,” suggested
Bowaon. “Let’s ask the king for work.” They knocked at the palace door. They were told to enter,
but since it was late, they were not granted any audience with the king. They slept in the palace.
“You see,” taunted Bowaon, “if you did not delay our trip, we should’ve been able to eat. You are
the cause of all this.” They went to sleep nevertheless since they were so tired from their
journey.
After a while, Totoon heard someone calling his name. “Rise, Totoon, and listen: In the
morning, when the king calls you for breakfast, don’t eat at once. On the table you’ll see a pen
and some cooking utensils. Sit near the pen, and your future will be bright. Don’t be surprised. I
am the dead person whom you have buried. I have come back to pay you back the favor you
showed me.” Everything went silent and Totoon feel asleep again. In the morning, the two
friends were called for breakfast by the king. As he was told the night before, he saw the pen and
some cooking utensils on the table. Bowaon sat down and just as soon began eating.
“You, Totoon, will become my secretary; while you, Bowaon, will become my cook,”
announced the king.
At first, Bowaon was glad with his work for it meant plenty of food. He would not go
hungry. But as time went on, he began to envy Totoon for the latter was not fatigued much. He
thought of smearing the name of his friend.
One day, Bowaon went to the king to report that he heard Totoon say that the latter
would be able to find the ring the king lost within three days and that the reward will be
marriage to the princess. Of course, the king got angry for he did not say anything like that. He
had Totoon summoned to his hall. Totoon protested the accusation but the angry king would not
listen to him.
“Go, look for the ring then and if you find it you will have the princess for a reward but,
if you fail you will lose your head,” announced the king.
Totoon did not say anything. He got a paddle and rode far out to the sea. There, he cried
because of his fate. No longer after, he heard a voice. It was a fish asking him why he as crying.
Totoon unburdened his problem. After listening, the fish dived deep into the sea. When it
surfaced, many fishes came up with it, each one with a ring in its snout. Totoon looked among
the rings. The king’s ring was not there.
The fishes dived again. When they came up, they were bringing the king’s ring. Totoon
thanked the fish.
Don’t mention it,” said the fish. Actually, we are only paying the favor you showed us
before when you threw us back into the reef.”
Then they left. The king rejoiced that the ring had been found. He held a banquet. Now,
Bowaon had plenty of work again. He did not like it. In the banquet, the king announced the
forthcoming marriage of Totoon and the princess. Bowaon was very angry. There would be much
work ahead. He thought of a plan to thwart the wedding. But it did not succeed. After the
wedding, Bowaon went to the king. “Your majesty,” he said. “I heard Totoon say that on the third
day, the princess will give birth.”
74
 The king got mad. He once more summoned Totoon. “Do you mean to say that you had
an affair with the princess even before you got married? You scoundrel! But since you’re already
my child, I can’t do anything. However, do what you’ve said---that the princess will give birth
three days from now. If not, you’ll surely lose your head.”
Totoon cried in despair. The princess comforted him by saying she’d talk with her father,
but he couldn’t be calmed. After a while, an eagle came. “Don’t cry, Totoon,” she began. “This
time I’ll help you in payment for help you extended my children. Get a midwife and talk to her. I’ll
bring you a newly-born child.” Then the eagle flew away. When she came back, she had an
infant, still dripping with blood. In the bedroom, the midwife acted as if there really was a
delivery. When the king awoke, he heard the ones of an infant. He was amazed that the princess

Task/Activity
did give birth. He forgot his anger. “It must be a miracle,” he muttered.

2. Echoes from
Make the Farm
a reflection paper about this story. Informal essay rubric will be used.
http://www.hendersoncountypublicschoolsnc.org/johnson-farm/echoes-from-the-farm/

Echoes from the Farm

This page is designed to bring you back to the days when the farm was still visited
each summer by city folk looking to spend their vacation on a
working farm. With these narratives you can reminisce
through the eyes of those who were there back in the 1800-
1900’s and share their experiences ‘first-hand’. It was a very
special and unique time and if you close your eyes you can still
hear the sound of hooves tapping the ground as they pull a
wagon or plow the field. Enjoy the stories but take the time to
visit the Farm and feel for yourself what it’s like to travel back
in time at the Historic Johnson Farm!
I eagerly returned to Hendersonville upon my release
from the Army. Yet, like many returning vets, I somehow found it difficult to fit back into my
pre-military life. People had moved on, changed, but so had I. The question became, “How
do I begin again”?
One thing I found unchanged was the Johnson farm and the two men living there.
Before I left, Vernon had been my special friend. I had known him most of my life and had
loved the hand-crafted toys he made for local children. He honored me by often sharing his
workroom with me. Now, you have to understand that work room is a polite euphemism for
the small dungeon-like room under his brick farmhouse. There was enough room in there
for Vernon, a small workbench and a few old hand-operated tools. To share the room, I
would lounge in the doorway and talk with Vernon as he would meticulously craft his
wooden magic.
His favorite wood was walnut; he never wasted a piece if it could be saved to make
something useful. If he wasn’t making a toy he would be building one of his signature small
tables which he would often give to young folks as a wedding gift. To own one of these
tables is a treat for those who knew Vernon. Each was made from local walnut and the legs
turned on a simple foot operated lathe in the cramped workroom. He made the same table
many times and once gave me the template, made from an old cigarette carton, for the
signature leg he used on the tables. Though this design is nothing spectacular, the
sentimental value that this was Vernon’s own design makes the template valuable to me.
Little did I realize that those hours spent idly watching Vernon from the doorway of
his hideaway would help re-integrate me into my renewed life in Henderson ville. Years
later, when I sadly attended Vernon’s funeral, I found myself thinking how appropriate it
was that his casket was made of walnut. He had always maintained that walnut was a “gift”
and must be used, as with any wood, respectfully.
I remember one especially lovely Sunday afternoon, arriving at the Johnson farm
and seeing Vernon and Leander quietly rocking on the front porch of the brick farmhouse. I
climbed the steps and lounged on the porch railing while the two continued chatting,
rocking and watching the bird feeder in the yard.
Vernon kept a slingshot on a small table near his chair and when he would spy a
chipmunk or squirrel he would launch a small stone toward them. I wondered, why he
always missed them, because he usually had a deadly aim with that slingshot. Why, I had
often seen him clip walnuts from a tree.

75
 Then it became clear to me, his intent was not to hit the pesky critters, just chase
them away from the feeder so the birds would have free reign. That was so typical of
Vernon. In fact they had a small sign in a bed of begonias near the old well which read
“Chipmunk Crossing” so it was clear he had a fondness of all small harmless creatures.
As a child, I viewed the Christmas season as a magical time. Anticipation was a way
of being and I always remember our annual trip to visit the Johnson farm as being nearly as
highly anticipated as the season-ending visit from Santa Claus. As the longed for Saturday
visit slowly approached, my brother and I must have driven my parents wild with questions
of “how much longer?”
As that very special Saturday finally dawned, it was nearly impossible for my parents
to tame me and my little brother long enough for us to dress and eat our suddenly tasteless
breakfast of toast and cold cereal. For once there was no arguing in the back seat as the old
family car wound its way along Haywood Road toward the farm.
Though our hearts were fluttering with excitement, we were unusually subdued as
at last we stood on the porch of the red brick farmhouse. As the door swung open, we were
overwhelmed by our first glimpse of the toy-filled room. I think that Vernon and Leander
were as excited by our annual visits as we were. They smiled and giggled under their old
faded elf caps as they ushered us into the amazing room. Each year they would explain their
headgear as just old night caps to our parents, but my brother and I knew, just knew, that
they were truly Santa’s elves here in Hendersonville.
We were overwhelmed by the variety and number of toys scattered throughout the
room and piled in the old, unused, fireplace. Some were antiques we were sometimes
sternly admonished not to touch, but others were nearly new or sturdy hand-made wooden
toys crafted by Vernon and thus deemed playable. Vernon and Leander sat on the floor and
played with us for what seemed like hours and never told us to be quiet. We would hear
Vernon telling our folks to, “never mind, when children make noise, it’s their way of
praying”. It was the one delightful time and place we were fully encouraged to be children
Sadly, as all wonderful childhood excesses, it would come to an end and we would
be ushered back onto the porch and urged to trudge to the car. Usually we would be
clutching some small toy as a reminder of our visit to the Johnson farm. Unknown to us at
the time, it was not the toy we received that was the most valuable thing, but the lasting
memories of the two wonderful men and their warm hospitality which has remained with
me to this day.
From the memories of Patricia Dockery
In the gathering dusk, I was bouncing in the back of my father’s car with my mouth
watering at the wonderful smells coming from the casserole my mother was holding in her
lap. Dad and Grandpa were in the front laughing over something when the car turned to
begin the long haul up the winding gravel driveway to the Johnson Farm. It was our usual
winter Saturday evening game night and I couldn’t wait to get there.
Upon entering Aunt Sallie’s kitchen more enticing smells engulfed me. Soon we
were sitting around the extra large dining room table ready to dig in. I was always amazed
at the fact that none of Aunt Sallie’s dishes matched. Mommy told me that was because the
Johnson’s summer boarders often helped with kitchen cleanup and sometimes dropped
dishes meaning that Vernon and Leander were sent into town to get new ones. They
claimed they never could find matching dishes.
Soon the meal was finished and the men wondered to the front porch to smoke
while the women shooed me into the front parlor to play with the wooden toys made by
Leander. After the dishes were put away the adults came into the front parlor to join me. In
these dark winter days, the room served a different purpose than just an extra dining room.
Because it was colder upstairs, the “boys” always carried Aunt Sallie’s bed downstairs so she
could sleep in warmth.
The adults began their evening by playing cards while I fought a brave battle with
drooping eyelids. I continued playing with those wonderful toys. Finally, unable to resist
any longer, I crawled into the narrow bed and squeezed my eyes shut. But, as always on
these card evenings, I was too aware of the antlered deer staring at me from the wall above
the fireplace. I imagined him just waiting for my gaze to wonder so he could lower his
antlers and attack. Finally sleep won out and I drifted into dream world where the deer
became my friend instead of staring madly at me from the wall.
Task/Activity

Exercise: Elements of the Story. Fill the boxes below by the information given in the story

Characters 76
Setting Plot
 Conflict Resolution Theme

Moral Lesson

3. Like a Joke that Seems True

https://www.idealreads.com/like-a-joke-that-seems-true/

Like a Joke that Seems True

Pets and lightning may strike them in Manila

But pray not here in the restaurant of Go Bani
The filthy “pansit” still delights the tongues,
Palates and throats of us here in Tacloban
Cruel! How oppressive these Manilans are
Who want their bread ad rice clean;
How unfortunate for Kim On, T’in Siugaw
They’ll never get rich in the business.
We do not have their likes in Tacloban;
I’ve grown bleary-eyed, Stopped, white-haired since,
And we Taclobanons, whether of the towns or of the barrios,
Allow the Chinese to become millionaires.
Who cares if the bone on the soup are already a year old
In that can to which they keep adding water?
We amight slurping hot pig slop,
Fine enough if it is thick and well-flavored
We do not have to follow the ways of Manila.
For tasty is the chopsuey with rising water;
It is not in keeping for our government to just follow
Or to go this way or that or be indecisive.

Task/Activity

In separate sheet of paper give your insight about the poem. Informal essay rubric will be used.

TOPIC 10: REGION 9

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zamboanga_Peninsula

Zamboanga Peninsula (Tagalog: Tangway ng Zamboanga; Chavacano: Peninsula de

Zamboanga; Cebuano: Lawis sa Zamboanga) is an administrative region in the Philippines,
designated as Region IX. The region consists of three provinces (Zamboanga del Norte,
Zamboanga Sibugay and Zamboanga del Sur) and two cities (Isabela City and Zamboanga
City; the former being part of Basilan province and the latter a highly urbanized city). The
region was previously known as Western Mindanao before the enactment of Executive
Order No. 36 on August 12, 2015. The city of Zamboanga was designated as the regional
center until Pagadian City was designated as its new regional center, although Zamboanga
City remains the region's cultural, economic, and educational center.

Famous Writers from Region 9

77
 1. MARTHA CECILIA
(Born Maribeth dela Cruz y Hamoy) was a Filipino writer of Tagalog romance
pocketbook novels. She was the author of best selling novel series Kristine and Sweetheart.
Many of her novels were serialized by ABS-CBN under Precious Hearts Romances Presents.

2. CÉSAR RUIZ AQUINO

Is a Filipino poet and novelist. He was born and raised in Zamboanga, Philippines. He
was educated at Silliman University, at UP Diliman, at the Ateneo de Manila on Padre Faura,
and at AE (now Universidad de Zamboanga). His writing career began when Philippine
Graphic published his story 'Noon and Summer' written in 1961. At age 19, he received an
invitation to - and a virtual writing fellowship at - the first, 1962, Silliman National Writers
Summer Workshop in Dumaguete that included as fellows Wilfrido D. Nolledo, Jose Lansang
Jr. and Wilfredo Pascua Sanchez - as well as mentors Nick Joaquin, Franz Arcellana and
Edilberto Tiempo and Edith Tiempo.
Aquino earned his Ph.D. at Silliman University, where he has been teaching creative
writing and literature since 1981. He has also served resident panelist at the continuing
annual Silliman Writers Workshop. He has received the Carlos Palanca Memorial Award for
poetry two times (1978, 1997) and likewise two times for short fiction (1979, 1989). Other
literary awards he has won are the Graphic and the Free Press. He has received the Gawad
Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas for Lifetime Achievement from the 'Unyon ng mga
Manunulat sa Pilipinas' (Writers' Union of the Philippines or UMPIL) in 1997. He was also
named 'National Fellow for Poetry' by the University of the Philippines Institute of Creative
Writing (U.P. ICW) in 2003. The following year (2004) he was the Philippine awardee of the
SEA.Write in Thailand.
Cesar Ruiz Aquino's publications include: 'Chronicles of Suspicion' (short fiction and
nonfiction, from Kalikasan Press in 1988). 'Word without End' (poems, from Anvil Publishing
in 1993) aessnd 'Checkmeta: The Cesar Ruiz Aquino Reader' (poems and prose, from
Midtown Printing Company in 2004). 'In Samarkand' (poems, from UST Publishing House in
2008). 'Caesuras: 155 New Poems' (UST Publishing House 2013). 'Like A Shadow That Only
Fits a Figure of Which It Is Not The Shadow' (UST Publishing House 2014). 'Fire If It Were Ice,
Ice If It Were Fire' (Ateneo de Naga Press 2016). He has two works-in-progress: a new book
of poems and a novel.

1. The Kingdom of Keboklagan

https://www.kapitbisig.com/philippines/english-version-of-epics-mga-epiko-the-kingdom-of-keboklagan-of-the-
suban-on-tribe-of-northwestern-mindanao_1192.html/page/0/1

The Kingdom of Keboklagan

(Of the Suban-on tribe of Northwestern Mindanao)

Part 1.
Timoway, a datu of Sirangan, had a wife who was about to give birth. But he wanted
to go to other places "to sharpen the tools" of chiefs and increase his income. His wife
refused to allow him to go because there would be no one to assist her in her labor. But her
husband insisted since they did not have anything to support their child with. So the wife
finally consented.
Timoway left the kingdom with Kasanggolan (a datu of lower rank who acts as an
assistant to a higher datu) and fifteen of his men. At the seashore, he and his men got into a
boat but the boat would not move. They took this as a sign that a sacrifice was called for.
Timoway then beheaded one of his companions and after that the boat glided fast over the
sea.
Hey dropped by the village of Sakabandar whose wife was also pregnant. Despite
her condition, he also left her and went with Timoway.
While they were on the deep sea, they were seen by Diwata Pegderaman, goddess
of wind, lightning and thunder. She invited them to her abode but they refused.
Pegderaman got angry and she sent out the wind and the thunder. Big waves appeared on
the sea and their vessel broke into two. They all perished.
The boat, although broken and with no passengers, sailed back to Sirangan and
informed Timoway's wife of the incident. The wife wept capiously until she felt labor pains.
She gave birth to a baby boy, at the same time that the wife of Sakabandar also gave birth to
a baby boy.
Part 2.

78
 Timoway's son (Taake) grew fast at night and became handsomer at daytime. At
seven months, Taake cried aloud without stopping and this disturbed the whole population
of Sirangan. "Gagongs" were beaten and so each one came to render assistance. Just then
the baby spoke and asked his mother if he had a father; and if he had, what his occupation
was, what he did daily, and whether his death was caused by an offense committed by
someone. When the boy learned the real story, he was glad that his father had died without
being killed by anyone.
His mother later gave Taake the hook and line, his inheritance from his father. With
this he went fishing in their own waters. With the help of supernatural powers, he caught
plenty of fish. He was soon famous for fish.
But a time came when he asked his mother for better clothes because he had
decided to go fishing in distant waters. This surprised the mother since this was the first
time he had ever asked for clothes. He told her he was ashamed to have no decent clothes
whenever he met some Visayan or Muslim girls.
Thus clothed he ventured out to fish again. This time he drifted to the deep sea.
There he saw a fish as big as a hill with golden scales. He hooked the fish but it fought
fiercely. It pulled him for seven months. In the seventh month Taake heard the explosions
and roar of the big waves. He was then on the deep sea. An eel barred his way. The eel told
him to go home for the place was dangerous and added that it was willing to conduct him
home back to Sirangan. He strucked the eel instead with his sword and the eel drowned. Big
waves came and later Taake lost his balance and fell into the sea. He went down, down until
he saw a horse with his hook and line in its mouth. He ran after the horse with his "karisan"
(sword-like knife) but it ran away.

Part 3.
Here at Keboklagan he looked around and saw a high tower. He ran up the ladder
made of golden rungs till he reached the top of the tower. There he saw a beautiful girl
almost naked. When she saw him, the lady of Pintawan invited him in and offered him
"mamaq". They chewed, and day after day he wooed her. After seven days of wooing, she
consented to his offer of marriage and they lived together.

Part 4.
The news about the coming of the Suban-on was soon known by two men named
Towan Salip Satoron Domatong. Angered, they summoned the people through their gagong
to kill Taake and offer him as a sacrifice.
The lady of Pintoqan, who was like a sister to the lady of Pintawan (wife of Taake),
advised Taake and his wife to return to Sirangan. Taake refused on the ground that he had
not done anything wrong. He wanted to face the datus and explain his presence there. But
the people of Keboklagan were already preparing to kill him. So he had no other recourse
but to fight, and he did so with his natural strength assisted by his supernatural powers.
Back in Sirangan, a datu named Tomitib Manaon, son of Sakabandar, who was born
at the same time as Taake, dreamed that he saw a Suban-on fighting alone in the
Keboklagan kindom. He prepared to set off in order to help him. He went to see if Taake was
at home but the sons of Balo Laki and Bata Tobig informed him that they had not been
home for sometime. He proceeded to Keboklagan while the other two datus followed.
Immediately, Tomitib rushed to the place where Taake was fighting and there charged at
Sorotan Domatong until the latter fell.
Taake saw Tomitib and stopped him. He confronted the latter and asked him why
he had fought at once without first inquiring about the cause of the fight.
Later, when the girls of Keboklagan saw Saulagya Maola, a datu of the place, they
explained to him the cause of the whole trouble. Maola remembered a promise he had
made to his sister, the lady of Pintawan, that anyone who could go up the ladder of "karis"
(with knife-blades for rungs) be it a dog or a pig, should marry the girl.
He then called all his datus to a conference and told them about the promise.
Nevertheless, the datus insisted on fighting. So, Saulagya partitioned Keboklagan into two
parts: one-half deciding to fight, the other half belonging to him agreeing not to participate
in the fight.
When the datu of Liyo-Liyo heard of the fight, he rode on his horse and went to the
battleground. As the fight went on, Saulagya Maola kept on bearing the drum, the gongs and
the kolintangs. The people fought hard while the datu of Liyo-Liyo and Tomitib Manaon
were engaged in hand-to-hand combat. They continued fighting until all the people died.
The Sirangan datus then proceeded to other kingdoms to fight further.
Part 5.

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 They first went to the kingdom of Dibaloy. They challenged its chief, Datu Bataqelo,
to a fight. Lilang Diwata, sister of Bataqelo, gave Taake a name. He called him Malopanyag,
meaning, "he fights in all places." In this kingdom, Taake and Tomitib led the fight until half
of the people had died. Then they felt pity for the place so they proceeded to another
kingdom. They passed by the kingdom of Pimarisan because the people of that kingdom
were their kin. They went to the kingdom of Todongtodong. Here, they were invited first to
a mamaq session before they started the fight. They fought hard until all in the kingdom
became lifeless.
Then the conquering datus convened and agreed to move on the kingdom of Walo
Sabang ruled by Egdodan Magsorat and Egdodan Sabagan. The eight datus refused to fight
and instead they let only their subjects fight. The subjects fought hard, but their datus just
looked on. The Sirangan datus were surprised to see that the men who were killed became
alive again. After seven months of fighting, Taake got tired and fell asleep on the
battleground. Tomitib fought alone. Just then Taake dreamed of a pretty girl telling him to
go to the tower of Walo Sabang in the guise of Towan Salip Palasti to get their powerful
medicines and amulets. He followed the instructions in detail. When he came back, armed
with the medicines, the people whom they had felled did not return to life anymore and
those cut to pieces died.
Conclusion.
The god Asog this time looked down and saw that the other world, the world of
sinners, was very quiet for there was no life and no fire burning. He went down to earth and
told Malopanyag to stop fighting and to return to Sirangan. Asog urged him to hold a buklog
upon arriving home, where each of them would be given his partner in life. Asog fanned the
kingdom with his kerchief and all those who had died lived again.
The datus then conferred and ageed finally to go home. Upon their arrival at
Sirangan, they saw that Taake's mother was dying because of her pain in waiting, longing for
her son. When Taake kissed his mother and told he was her son, she was revived. The whole
kingdom of Sirangan came to life, trees stirred, birds sang, and everything grew more alive.
They then prepared for the buklog. All the datus of the different kingdoms were invited
and there they were given partners in life by their god Asog.

Task/Activity

Make a summary of this story and find the message or the moral value. Short story rubric will be used.
2. A Story of the Orphan Girl
https://short-edition.com/en/story/short-fiction/the-orphan-girl

The Orphan Girl

“What if they come for her?” cried Zarina frantically.

Zarius pointed at the door of the orphanage, “We just have to trust them.”
Zarius put down his daughter at the steps of the orphanage, took one last longing look and
knocked on the door. He took Zarina’s hand and they both hid. A woman dressed in soiled
clothes came out. She gasped when she saw the small figure of a baby on the footsteps of the
door. She held the baby and scanned outside. No one was in view so she headed inside
Zarius whispered, “She’s in safe hands.
Zarina replied, “I hope so.”
They both held hands together and disappeared. Inside the orphanage, Rose was staring at
the baby. Though she wondered who had left the baby, this wasn’t something new to her. Often
young children would be brought to them if no one was willing to take them in. Rose took the
baby to Sarah, who was in charge of the orphanage
“Sarah, look.
Sarah looked surprised, “Did you see anyone?”
“There is an old crib in the basement. Also get a fresh towel and maybe we can try to fit
some of the smaller clothes we have.”

15 YEARS LATER
“Rose! I’m going to be late on my first day!” cried Linda.
“Remember to focus on class, don’t get too close to people, you know why.”
Linda sighed, “Yes I know.”
“Good, we don’t want a repeat.”

Flashback
“Linda come play with us! Let’s play tag.”
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 “That sounds fun, sure!”
They all began running around frantically all over the playground. Jackie was headed towards
Linda, but she tripped and fell.”
“Ow! I hurt my knee!” Linda ran over to Jackie.
“Let me see.” Linda looked at the bruise on Jackie’s knee and she started to feel a tingling in
her hand. She didn’t know what came over her, she put her hand over the bruise and closed her
eyes.
“What are you doing?” asked Jackie.
Linda opened her eyes and removed her hand, everyone gasped at the sight. The kids started whispering
and Jackie looked at her knee with wide eyes.
“She’s a magician!”
“She’s probably an alien!”
“How did you do that?” asked Jackie in awe.
Linda didn’t understand what she just did, she began to panic and cry. The teacher saw the
crowd of kids.
“What is going on here? Linda darling come here, tell me what happened.”
With tears in her eyes Linda asked Ms. Beatrice, can you please call home?”
Linda walked into Rowen Academy and started scanning the area with her eyes. She held the
locket around her neck, it gave her a strange sense of peace. She was looking for the office, when
she suddenly bumped into someone.
Linda looked at the person. “Ss-sorry.”
“No my fault, I was rushing. I’m Jake.” He held out his hand. Linda ignored it.
“Uh, Linda.”
“Hey Linda.
“I-uh am new, I was looking for the office.”
“Oh, follow me. I’ll show you.”
“Yeah.”
Jake was waiting for her, even though class had already started for everyone else.
“Thanks. You didn’t have to wait for me. Aren’t you late for class?”
“Not a problem. Can I see your schedule?” Linda hands over her schedule. “Well would you
look at that, we have all the same classes except for math! You don’t talk a lot do you?”
“We should get to class.”
Jake and Linda became really good friends. She would tell Rose all about Jake, but she was
always warned to not get too close to him. Linda didn’t want to lose a friend like him, she
thought maybe she should tell him. Today she was going with Jake to a carnival. She decided to
tell her secret to him then.
As Linda gets ready, Rose walks in. “Linda. Be careful. The minute you feel anything wrong
you come straight here. Okay?”
“Yes Rose, I get it, I’ve heard this a million times.”
“Sweety, I have to keep reminding you, if anyone finds out, it could mean trouble, I want you
to be safe. Understand?”
“Yes, I understand. Can I go now? Jake is probably waiting.”
“Okay, be safe, and don’t be too late.”
“Got it.” Linda heads out the door to meet Jake.
Jake and Linda were having a great time, they played games, and explored the entire
carnival. The wind started to pick up really fast. Linda had left Jake to go to one of the bathroom
stalls. As she tried to open it, the door wouldn’t open, she pushed, shoved, and hit the door to no
use.
“Jake! Anyone! I’m stuck! Someone please help me!” All of a sudden the stall started
shaking. “Wha-ah-huh!” White mist was seeping out as the door opened on its own. Everyone at
the carnival seemed to have disappeared. She felt afraid. Tears began streaming down her face.
“Linda.”
“Oh my god Jake! I’ve been looking for you everywhe-”
“I know what you are.”
“Wha-what are you talking about?”
“Don’t act dumb. I know you are a Sarfayan, I knew it the day I met you. I didn’t think any of
you even survived.”
“J-Jake what are you saying? I don’t understand.”
“Let me explain then.” He pulled out a small dagger and made a cut on his wrist.
“What the heck are you doing?!”
“Do you feel it? I know you do.”
Linda was shocked, it was the same feeling she had gotten at the playground. She couldn’t
help but want to heal him.
“Jake, this isn’t funny.”
“You’re not who you think you are. You’re not even human. You just look like one, it’s all an
illusion.” He took out a black rock and shot it straight at Linda, her human illusion broke into that

81
 of pale sparkling skin, blue eyes, and long white blonde hair. “You belong to Sarfay, a planet that
once flourished with your kind, but the king refused to create alliances with the Agos, my people.
You Linda, are the daughter to the Sarfay king and my father wanted to have us wed on your
16th birthday. You are mine. I have come to take you.”
“No! I’m not going anywhere!”
“Yes. You. Are!” He grabbed her hand and blue light shot out from Linda’s hands that forced
him away.
“Oh so now you’re playing hard to get?
“Jake please stop, you’re mistaken!”
“Linda, darling, I make no mistakes.” His arms grew bigger, his hair fell into long braids, his
skin green with speckles of black and his eyes were a striking cobalt blue that looked like it could
freeze Linda on the spot. Linda ran.
“You hid for 15 years! You think you can hide again!” He ran after her with great speed.
Linda had suddenly felt more energetic, her speed increasing as she weaved her way through the
carnival. She quickly hid inside a circus tent and shut her eyes.
Why me? Someone please save me. I wish I listened to Rose.
You are safe. We are always watching.
“Boo.”
“Ahhh!” Jake grabs Linda.
“I finally got you that was no fun, too easy.”
Who are they? I see a man with a blue beard and pale skin like mine and a woman with long
white hair with emerald green eyes. I see flashes of their faces come in my dreams, and now it’s
as if I am talking to them.
“You are a Saryan, you can fight, focus on yourself.”
“It’s deep within you.”
“Jake please, I’m just really scared. Aren’t you my best friend?
His face softened, “Fine.”
You have the power, use it.
Linda could feel a strong force inside of her, her hands began to tingle, her body buzzed, and
she could feel herself strengthen.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.”
“I can see you glowing.”
A strong force of light shot out from her hands and hit Jake right in the chest.
“Ahh! You crazy-”
Another force of light shot him hitting his leg, causing him to falter. Linda didn’t know what
she was doing, but she could feel the energy pulsing through her hands like electricity.
You are a Saryan.
The man and woman seemed to appear in front of her, they smiled at her. She was
momentarily distracted.
“No one can save you now!”
Jake staggered in his movement. The man and woman focused their eyes on her locket.
Linda opened her locket and sees a blue mist sucking in everything. Linda faced the locket
towards Jake, the energy in her grew and transformed. The blue mist swirled out towards Jake
and wrapped around him.
“No...No! No! This can’t happen-!”
The mist sucked him in towards the locket and he was gone. Linda stood there in shock. She
breathed heavily processing all that happened.
I am Linda, and I am a Sarfayan. I am strong. Something big is about to happen, and I have to
be ready for it.

Task/Activity

Get a scenario in the story where you INFORMAL ESSAY RUBRIC

can really relate and explain it why did this CRITERIA Percentage
*Informal Essay Rubric
scenario caught up your attention. Give a Quality of Writing 50%
real-life same situation which happened Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
already. 100%

3. The White Horse of Alih

https://ischoolsericsonalieto.wordpress.com/2012/03/25/the-white-horse-of-alih/

THE WHITE HORSE OF ALIH

By: Alvarez Enriquez

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 The story happened on July 4th in a city with a parade of people. It was a happy day for
everybody because they are celebrating the big American Holiday. Among the crowd was Alih, a
Moro who was then looking for his brother, Omar. That day was intended for them to fulfill their
plan. Their plan is to kill these people.
So Alih waited for his brother, he went out of the crown and sat under the Balete tree.
While he was sitting and looking at the parade, he remembered his past, his childhood and his
growing years where he met the women whom he wished and longed for and he remembered
his mission. That is—to kill the people. But people can’t notice them as Moros because they were
in disguise.
When he saw a man riding a horse and controlling the crowd, he remembered how
much he longed for a horse for himself. He recalled when his brother punished him because he
spent his earnings just to ride in a merry – go- round. He wanted to ride on a wooden horse
because he saw the girl whom he liked most and her name was Lucy. Lucy was the girl who lived
in the reservation area where the Americans live. Moros were not allowed to enter that vicinity.
But because he needs to go to school, he cross the river and reached the reservation area. There
he saw the first girl he liked. Though, they were not given the chance to see and talk to each
other since then.
When he grew up, Omar told him about how the American soldiers killed their father
without any reason. Their father was known and respected in their village. With these, Omar
taught him to be brave and be able to fight against these people because he believes that only by
killing could they wash away their shame. He taught him words to live by and beliefs to be
respected and attained.
As he grew into a mature individual, he met another woman named Fermina. Fermina
was a beautiful bar maid with a mole near her mouth. He likes her so much but the woman
doesn’t like him because of his impertinent manner towards her. He was put to jail for six months
because of what he did.
Remembering all of these from his past, he thought of what Omar said about the
promise of their prophet to those who are faithful to him. That is to have a white horse ride to
heaven and as many hours as the number of infidel heads he could lay before Allah. But when he
thought of what their Imam said that white horse, as a reward for killing is a reference conjured
by fanatics in their attempt to give reason to their behavior. The prophet never taught them
about that because he was man of peace.
So back to reality, he continued searching for Omar into the crowd. Soon he saw a float
with a girl whom he thought of as Fermina. He went near the float and assisted the girl to go
down to the ground. As he was about to hold her completely, Omar came but to his surprise, he
was drunk and tipsy! All along, he realized that Omar had been drinking tuba. He knew that Omar
was afraid to kill that is why he drink tuba first before he go to the town.
Omar shouted and leap to the street, and then he gets his fatal blade from his pants.
The crowd screamed. Fear and panic seized everyone. Everyone is running and escaping
from Omar, even fermina jumped into the ground and run away but she got stocked from a
bamboo frame of the float because of her long flowing robe that hooked on the edge of the
bamboo frame. She tried to set her free but she saw Omar coming to her swinging his blade.
Fermina screamed and screamed because of fear.
The screams struck Alih because he saw that Fermina the girl he was love is in danger
and get his blade from his leg immediately and then he leaped to his brother Omar and hit its
back by his sharp blade repeatedly. Omar died.
The town spoke out about the strange tragedy for many days after. But nobody had
known Alih, and nobody could figure out why he turned against his brother.

Task/Activity
Answer the following questions: Rubric for short answer:
1. Why did the brothers Alih and Omar decided to CRITERIA Percentage
kill the Christians in the story? Correct Answer with 50%
2. What is the significance of the White Horse of Supporting Details
Alih? Grammar & Mechanics 50%
3. What is the theme of the story? 100%
4. What is the moral lesson of the story?
5. Why is the title “The White Horse of Alih”?

TOPIC 11: Region 10

83
 Northern Mindanao (Tagalog: Hilagang Mindanao; Cebuano: Amihanang
Mindanao; Maranao: Pangotaraan Mindanao) is an administrative region in the Philippines,
designated as Region X. It comprises five provinces: Bukidnon, Camiguin, Misamis
Occidental, Misamis Oriental, and Lanao del Norte, and two cities classified as highly
urbanized, all occupying the north-central part of Mindanao island, and the island-province
of Camiguin. The regional center is Cagayan de Oro. Lanao Del Norte was transferred to
Northern Mindanao from Region XII (then called Central Mindanao) by virtue of Executive
Order No. 36 in September 2001.

Famous Writer in Region 10

https://www.panitikan.com.ph/content/joey-ayala
1. JOEY AYALA
Likas na mahilig ang mga Pilipino sa musika. Ngunit para kay Jose Iñigo Homer
Lacambra Ayala o mas kilala bilang Joey Ayala, ang musika ay higit sa tono at letra—ito rin ay
lunsaran ng damdamin at adbokasiya.
Bagaman nagtapos ng AB Economics sa Ateneo de Davao, mas pinili ni Ayala na
iparinig ang kaniyang musika. Binuo niya ang bandang Bagong Lumad na nagpakilala ng
bagong mukha ng alternatibong musika sa bansa dahil sa paggamit niya ng mga katutubong
instrumento.
Makailang ulit siyang nagwagi sa patimpalak sa pagsulat ng awit na Metropop habang
binigyan naman siya ng pagkilala ng Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino (KWF) dahil sa mga awitin
niyang sumasalamin sa mayamang kultura ng Pilipinas. Maliban sa kaniyang musika, isang
manunulat din si Ayala. Nagwagi siya sa Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards at Philippine
Free Press Annual Literary Award.

https://aboutcagayandeoro.com/history-of-cagayan-de-oro/
1. How Cagayan De Oro Got its Name
The origin of the name “Cagayan” came from the Malayo-Polynesian word “ag” which
means water. “Kagay”, where the word ag is present means river, and Kagayan means “a
place with a river.” While “de Oro” came from the Spanish word “Golden”.
Cagayan de Oro is bordered by the municipality of Opol in the west and Tagoloan in the
east. With its utilized area, including the hills of uptown Cagayan de Oro, the Population has
been recorded a little over 600,000, gaining the rank of being the 10th most populous city
in the country.
As we stroll into this crowded city, we often mention streets and avenues when
directing a taxi cab of where to drop us off; Borja, Suniel, Velez, Capistrano, Hayes and a lot
more. But most of us went unaware that these family names are connected to the rich
history of Cagayan de Oro City by more than just a mere street name. It takes deeper than
that, so deep that we can go back on A.D. 377 to discover the early settlement that existed
in Cagayan de Oro City.
On 1970, Brgy. Huluga (once known as Himologan), situated eight kilometers into the
south of Cagayan de Misamis, a settlement where most natives lived in that time, has been
investigated by researchers from the National Museum. They found artifacts and tableware
known to be products from neighboring countries, an indication that active cross-country
trades are present in the area before.
In one of the caves in the area of Huluga, Sitio Taguanao, Barangay Indahag, a shred of a
woman’s skull has been found. This has been a subject for acid racemization and has been
sent at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography in La Jolla, California, United States. The
result has been found that the skull dated as early as A.D. 377. This serves as a
valid evidence of the city’s early occupation.

Spanish Arrival
In 1622, two Augustinian Recollect missionaries came to Huluga and did meet the
natives. Most of the inhabitants were Polytheistic pagans. Men decked with tattoos and the
women are arrayed with ornaments in their body.
In 1626, Fray Agustin de San Pedro of Portugal came into Cagyan de Misamis. He
advised Datu Salangsang to relocate his colony near the river, a place where today San
Agustin Cathedral and Gaston Park are located. Not long after that, Datu Salansang was
baptized, together with his wife and the multitudes that are with them.
The people of Datu Salangsang pay tribute to Sultan Kudarat. But because of
Salansang’s conversion to Catholicism, Sultan Kudarat and his squad of brave warriors, with
furious resentment, charged to Cagayan to attack the Spanish missionaries. Yet Fray Agustin

84
 won’t let Sultan Kudarat’s people just beat them out without a fight. By his invigorated will,
he commanded to build a wooden garrison and a watch tower to obstruct the incoming
horde of Sultan Kudarat’s warriors. The garrison was then known as Fuerza Real de San Jose.
With his valiant effort to defend Cagayan in his utmost strength and intelligence, Fray
Agustin was then labeled as “El Padre Capitan”. Misamis has been declared as a province on
1818. It consists of four districts, one of which is the Partidos de Cagayan. 1871 came,
Partidos has been declared as a town and the capital of Misamis. By February of a year after
that, Governor-General Carlos María de La Torre announced that Cagayan is the new and
permanent capital of Segundo Distrito de Misamis.

Kaptipunan in Mindanao
We have heard about the Kapitunan in our History books, right? But don’t we know
that it has been also carried out here in Cagayan? On September 29, 1986, a band of
Filipinos has been deported from Luzon to Iligan to perform Military discipline. This group
received an information from the Manila Katipunan, and started a revolt against the Spanish
troops. They rallied the camps and convents of the Spaniards going to Cagayan de Misamis.
With sheer passion, they even go further up into the heights of Bukidnon and back into the
bays of Gingoog. This revolution in Cagayan de Misamis is the only known Katipunan-led
insurgence in the whole Mindanao.

Independence from the Spanish Colonization

Finally, on January 10, 1899, 7 months after the official declaration of the Philippine
Independence in Kawit, Cavite, the new Philippine flag was raised in the island of Mindanao
as Cagayan de Misamis joined the celebration of being independent from the Spanish rule.
After the dark ages of more than 300 years under the Spanish oppression, the
Philippines have been handed over by the Spaniards to the Americans in merit of the 1898
Treaty of Paris. This caused an upheaval between America and the Philippines. A new era
emerged.

American Colonial Period

Just almost two years after the independence, on March 31, 1900, the Americans
started their campaign in invading Cagayan de Misamis. They first attacked the pier in
Macabalan. Organized before the attack, the Filipino resistance fighters planned to revenge
strategically after the American intrusion in Macabalan.
On April 7, 1900, a force led by General Nicolas Capistrano with the resistance
fighters, conducted a surprise attack at dawn. It began when one of Capistrano’s warriors
roared as they killed an American guard, which then alerted the American soldiers in their
slumber. This clash is widely known as the “Battle of Cagayan de Misamis”. 52 of the Lumad
Warriors have been killed in action, 9 were wounded, and 10 were captured. However, the
Americans only tallied 4 deaths in their side together with 9 wounded soldiers.
This event happened in Gaston Park near the San Agustin Cathedral, an iconic park
where history has witnessed bloodshed from the Spanish rule until the American assault. A
story that is lost in the memories of the new generation of Kagay-anons.
Other battles are recorded. This includes the battle of Agusan Hill, led by Capt. Vicente Roa y Racines
and the memorable battle of Macahambus on June 4, 1900, where it was recorded as the first victory
of the Filipino revolutionaries against the Americans.
Though the win of Macahambus Hill is secured, the over-all victory of the Philippine-
American war has never been achieved. Being under the leadership of the United States;
improvements in Cagayan de Misamis were enacted, focused on education and commerce.
Cagayan also became the center of migration in Northern Mindanao. The economy
ran better than before. A gift that was once resisted by the Kagay-anons, regardless of its
pros and cons, has helped them thrive as a community of people in unison.
On May 1, 1942, the Japanese overrun Cagayan de Misamis with brute force,
bringing with them the “scorched earth policy”, where they burned the town into ashes, but
left the big buildings as their command post. Fearless just like before, Kagay-anon Guerillas
retaliated to the vile Japanese soldiers. Yet their efforts were feeble and not strong enough
to challenge the more equipped Japanese soldiers. On October 10, 1944 salvation came,
when the Americans flew over Cagayan and bombarded Cagayan de Misamis. This blitz
caused the Japanese troops to retreat, completely leaving the area on May 10, 1945.
After the War

85
 When the war ceased, Misamis Congressman Pedro S. Baculio never wasted his
time and pressed a request in the Philippine Congress to declare Cagayan de Misamis as a
city. With the help of his attempt, on December 17, 1949, Congressman Emmanuel Pelaez
presented the House Bill No. 54, an act that confirmed the creation of Cagayan de Oro City.
Then on June 15, 1950, President Elpidio Quirino conclusively signed the city charter. “de
Oro” affixed to “Cagayan” based on Congressman Pelaez’s request, in appreciation of the
gold mining of the 1500s that were present in the barrios of Cagayan de Oro. On 1948, the
Barrio of El Salvador has been declared as a town. Opol has also been separated and was
acknowledged as a town on 1950.
The last Mayor of the municipality of Cagayan de Misamis and first Mayor
of Cagayan de Oro City was Max Y. Suniel. We can easily identify a street in Barangay
Carmen that has his name on it. The one who succeeded Suniel on 1954 was Justiniano R.
Borja. Borja paved the way for the advancement of the city. One of his remarkable feats is
the opening of the Cogon Market on 1959. Because of his otstanding performance, Borja is
known as the most respected Mayor in the history of Cagayan de Oro City.
The Diocese of Cagayan de Oro has been exalted by Pope Pius XII as an Archdiocese
on June 29, 1951. It serves as the first Catholic Archbishopric in Mindanao. Santiago T. G.
Hayes, S.J. was the first archbishop.
18 years before this designation of Hayes, he founded Ateneo de Cagayan on June
7, 1933 that was later renamed as “Xavier University” on March 22, 1958. Xavier University
is known as the first University in Mindanao.
During the Martial Law era under the governance of President Ferdinand E. Marcos,
Cagayan de Oro never lies idle. With its participation in the constant defiance of the
dictator’s regime, Cagayan de Oro city became the center of political opposition in the
Philippines. The ever-resisting politicians of Cagayan de Oro aided the pursuit for Philippine
democracy that peaked at the EDSA revolution in 1986. One year after that, Benedicta B.
Roa was elected as the first congressional representative of Cagayan de Oro after the city
became a congressional district in the Congress of the Philippines.
Modern CDeO
All of that made Cagayan de Oro City of what it is today. We can now clearly see
that the street names that we often mention, but we less know about by its origin, are
names of the people who defended, improved, founded, and governed our beloved city of
Cagayan de Oro. The Parks that we tread today are the center of the battles before, of
stationed garrisons, of erected encampments, and of fortresses of old. If we would but know
our history in a much deeper sense than we have today, our walks along these landmarks
will be much more meaningful than ever before. The place where people, mostly the youth,
congest during Sundays, is the same place where local heroes lived and died, and Cagayan
de Oro City is the prize we gained because of their tenacious bravery through the years.
More than any national hero that we idolized and studied repeatedly in our
elementary years, the local heroes who have held their ground, who impacted a factor, no
matter small it may be as viewed in the history books, is worthy of our attention. To know
more about the traditional cultural heritage of Mindanao, specifically Cagayan de Oro, you
can visit Xavier University’s Museo de Oro. There is so much to learn in our city, there are a
lot that has not mentioned here yet. The list can go so long if all credible historical events
are recorded. But by these few facts presented, we are awed by how brave and how
intelligent the people of Cagayan de Oro before.
In our present time, are we still having that fiery zeal in our hearts that our
ancestors hold dear? Does the patriotic fervor that came from our fathers still boils in our
veins? Does our mind extensively worked for the labor of immortalizing the sacrifices done
in the past? Or have we became cowards, indifferent, and lethargic of everything that we
face today? We will not fear the present or even the future, unless we forget what our
fathers have done in the past.

Task/Activity

Rubric for short answer:

CRITERIA Percentage
Correct Answer with 50%
In a very short paragraph explain Supporting Details
in your own words how Cagayan De Oro Grammar & Mechanics 50%
got its name. 100%
Why the Sheep has A Big Voice
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 Why the Sheep Has a Big Voice
(A Folklore)

One summer morning a butterfly was amusing itself among the flowers by a
roadside. It happened that a sheep passed by and accidentally stepped on the wings of the
poor butterfly. The butterfly became angry at the rudeness of the sheep. The latter had the
same ill feeling towards the former. The sheep said, “Why do you get angry at me? If I kick
you, you will die ta once, my little friend,” The butterfly asked help from all insects and
requested the cricket to lead the party. This group held a conference. Whereupon they
decided the place and time for their meeting and battle against the sheep. Of coure the
sheep did not wish to be defeated on the figth; so, he called for all animals to aid him. The
elephant was made the captain of the party. Both parties agreed to wage the battle on a
pond on a certain day. The time came at last. Both parties went to the designated place. The
flies began stinging the bodies of the animals. As a result, the latter surrendered to the
insects. All the animals swam in order to escape the harm done them by their enemies, the
flies. The sheep was unable to follow the other animals; he had an abundance of hair; so, he
received all the painful bites of the flies. He shouted until at last his voice became very
hoarse. Now we hear the big voice of the sheep.

Task/Activity

If you were given a chance to make an ending of this story how will you end it?
Short story rubric will be used.

2. The Origin of the Birds

http://www.ruanyifeng.com/calvino/2011/01/the_origin_of_the_birds_en.html

The Origin of the Birds

The appearance of Birds comes relatively late, in the history of evolution, following the
emergence of all the other classes of the animal kingdom. The progenitor of the Birds -- or at
least the first whose traces have been found by paleontologists -- is the Archeopteryx (still
endowed with certain characteristics of the Reptiles from which he descends), who dates from
the Jurassic period, tens of millions of years after the first Mammals. This is the only exception to
the successive appearance of animal groups progressively more developed in the zoological scale.
In those days we weren't expecting any more surprises, -- Qfwfq narrated, -- by then it
was clear how things were going to proceed. Those who existed, existed; we had to work things
out for ourselves: some would go farther, some would remain where they were, and some
wouldn't manage to survive. The choice had to be made from a limited number of possibilities.
But instead, one morning I hear some singing, outside, that I have never heard before.
Or rather (since we didn't yet know what singing was), I hear something making a sound that
nobody has ever made before. I look out. I see an unknown animal singing on a branch. He had
wings feet tail claws spurs feathers plumes fins quills beak teeth crop horns crest wattles and a
star on his forehead. It was a bird; you've realized that already, but I didn't; they had never been
seen before. He sang: "Koaxpf . . . Koaxpf . . . Koaaacch . . . ," he beat his wings, striped with
iridescent colors, he rose in flight, he came to rest a bit farther on, resumed his singing.
Now these stories can be told better with strip drawings than with a story composed of
sentences one after the other. But to make a cartoon with the bird on the branch and me looking
out and all the others with their noses in the air, I would have to remember better how a number
of things were made, things I've long since forgotten; first the thing I now call bird, second what I
now call I, third the branch, fourth the place where I was looking out, fifth all the others. Of these
elements I remember only that they were very different from the way we would draw them now.
It's best for you to try on your own to imagine the series of cartoons with all the little figures of
the characters in their places, against an effectively outlined background, but you must try at the
same time not to imagine the figures, or the background either. Each figure will have its little
balloon with the words it says, or with the noises it makes, but there's no need for you to read
everything written their letter for letter, you only need a general idea, according to what I'm
going to tell you.
To begin with, you can read a lot of exclamation marks and question marks spurting
from our heads, and these mean we were looking at the bird full of amazement -- festive
amazement, with desire on our part also to sing, to imitate that first warbling, and to jump, to
87
see the bird rise in flight -- but also full of consternation, because the existence of birds knocked
our traditional way of thinking into a cocked hat.
In the strip that follows, you see the wisest of us all, old U(h), who moves from the
group of the others and says: "Don't look at him! He's a mistake!" and he holds out his hands as if
he wanted to cover the eyes of those present. "Now I'll erase him!" he says, or thinks, and to
depict this desire of his we could have him draw a diagonal line across the frame. The bird flaps
his wings, eludes the diagonal, and flies to safety in the opposite corner. U(h) is happy because,
with that diagonal line between them, he can't see the bird any more. The bird pecks at the line,
breaks it, and flies at old U(h). Old U(h), to erase him, tries to draw a couple of crossed lines over
him. At the point where the two lines meet, the bird lights and lays an egg. Old U(h) pulls the
lines from under him, the egg falls, the bird darts off. There is one frame all stained with egg yolk.
I like telling things in cartoon form, but I would have to alternate the action frames with
idea frames, and explain for example this stubbornness of U(h)'s in not wanting to admit the
existence of the bird. So imagine one of those little frames all filled with writing, which are used
to bring you up to date on what went before: After the failure of the Pterosauria, for millions and
millions of years all trace of animals with wings had been lost. ("Except for Insects," a footnote
can clarify.)
The question of winged creatures was considered closed by now. Hadn't we been told
over and over that everything capable of being born from the Reptiles had been born? In the
course of millions of years there was no form of living creature that hadn't had its opportunity to
come forth, populate the earth, and then -- in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred -- decline and
vanish. On this point we were all agreed: the remaining species were the only deserving ones,
destined to give life to more and more highly selected progeny, better suited to their
surroundings. For some time we had been tormented by doubts as to who was a monster and
who wasn't, but that too could be considered long settled: all of us who existed were
nonmonsters, while the monsters were all those who could exist and didn't, because the
succession of causes and effects had clearly favored us, the nonmonsters, rather than them.
But if we were going to begin again with strange animals, if the Reptiles, antiquated as
they were, started to pull out limbs and teguments they had never felt any need for previously, in
other words if a creature impossible by definition such as a bird was instead possible (and what's
more if it could be a handsome bird like this one, pleasing to the sight when he poised on the
fern leaves, and to the hearing when he released his warbling), then the barrier between
monsters and non-monsters was exploded and everything was possible again.
The bird flew far off. (In the drawing you see a black shadow against the clouds in the
sky: not because the bird is black but because that's the way distant birds are drawn.) And I ran
after him. (You see me from behind, as I enter a vast landscape of mountains and forests.) Old
U(h) is shouting at me: "Come back, Qfwfq!"
I crossed unfamiliar zones. More than once I thought I was lost (in the drawing it only
has to be depicted once), but then I would hear a "Koaxpf . . ." and, raising my eyes, I would see
the bird perched on a plant, as if he were waiting for me.
Following him like that, I reached a spot where the bushes blocked my view. I opened a
path for myself: beneath my feet I saw the void. The earth ended there; I was balanced on the
brink. (The spiral line rising from my head represents my dizziness.) Below, nothing could be
seen: a few clouds. And the bird, in that void, went flying off, and every now and then he twisted
his neck toward me as if inviting me to follow him. Follow him where, when there was nothing
farther on?
And then from the white distance a shadow rose, like a horizon of mist, which gradually
became clearer, with more distinct outlines. It was a continent, coming forward in the void: you
could see its shores, its valleys, its heights, and already the bird was flying above them. But what
bird? He was no longer alone, the whole sky over there was a flapping of wings of every color and
every form.
Leaning out from the brink of our earth, I watched the continent drift toward me. "It's
crashing into us!" I shouted, and at that moment the ground trembled. (A "bang!" written in big
letters.) The two worlds, having touched, bounced apart again, then were rejoined, then
separated once more. In one of these clashes I found myself flung to the other side, while the
empty abyss yawned again and separated me from my world.
I looked around: I didn't recognize anything. Trees, crystals, animals, grasses—
everything was different. Not only did birds inhabit the branches, but so did fish (after a manner
of speaking) with spiders' legs or (you might say) worms with feathers. Now it's not that I want to
describe to you the forms of life over there; imagine them any way you can, more or less strange,
it doesn't much matter. What matters is that around me there were displayed all the forms the
world could have taken in its transformations but instead hadn't taken, for some casual reason or
for some basic incompatibility: the rejected forms, unusable, lost.
(To give an idea this strip of drawings should be done in negative: with figures not unlike
the others but in white on black; or else upside down—assuming that it can be decided, for any
of these figures, which is up and which is down.)

88
 Alarm froze my bones (in the cartoon, drops of cold sweat spurt from my figure) at
seeing those images, all of them in some way familiar and all in some way distorted in their
proportions or their combinations (my very tiny figure in white, superimposed on the black
shadows that occupy the whole frame), but I couldn't refrain from exploring eagerly all around
me. You would have said that my gaze, rather than avoid those monsters, sought them out, as if
to be convinced they weren't monsters entirely, and at a certain point my horror was replaced by
a not unpleasant sensation (represented in the drawing by luminous rays crossing the black
background): beauty existed even there, if one could recognize it.
This curiosity had led me away from the coast, and I moved among hills that were spiky
like enormous sea urchins. By now I was lost in the heart of the unknown continent. (The figure
that represents me has become minuscule.) The birds, which a short time before had been for
me the strangest of apparitions, were already becoming the most familiar of presences. There
were so many that they formed a kind of dome around me, raising and lowering their wings all
together (frame crammed with birds; my outline barely glimpsed). Others were resting on the
ground, perched on the bushes, and gradually as I advanced they moved. Was I their prisoner? I
turned to run off, but I was surrounded by walls of birds who left me no passage, except in one
direction. They were driving me where they wanted, all their movements were leading me to one
point. What was there, at the end? I could discern only a kind of enormous egg lying on its side,
which opened slowly, like a shell.
All of a sudden it was flung open. I smiled. My eyes filled with tears of emotion. (I'm
depicted alone, in profile; what I'm looking at remains outside the frame.) Before me there was a
creature of a beauty never seen before. A different beauty, which couldn't be compared to all the
forms in which we had recognized beauty (in the frame it is still placed in such a way that only I
have it before me, not the reader), and yet ours, the most ours thing of our world (in the frame a
symbolical depiction could be used: a feminine hand, or a foot, or a breast, emerging from a
great cloak of feathers); without it our world would always have lacked something. I felt I had
arrived at the point where everything converged (an eye could be drawn, an eye with long radial
lashes which are transformed into a vortex) and where I was about to be swallowed (or a mouth,
the parting of two finely drawn lips, tall as I, and me flying, sucked toward the tongue rising from
the darkness).
All around me, birds: flapping of beaks, wings that flutter, claws extended, and the cry:
"Koaxpf . . . Koaxpf. . . . Koaaacch. . ." "Who are you?" I asked. A title explains: Qfwfq before the
beautiful Org-Onir-Ornit-Or, and makes my question pointless; the balloon that contains it is
covered by another, also rising from my mouth, with the words "I love you!" -- an equally
superfluous affirmation -- promptly followed by another balloon containing the question: "Are
you a prisoner?" to which I don't await an answer, and in a fourth balloon which makes its way
among the others I add, "I'll rescue you. Tonight, we'll flee together."
The following strip is entirely dedicated to the preparations for the flight, to the sleep of
the birds and the monsters in a night illuminated by an unknown firmament. A dark little frame,
and my voice: "Are you following me?" Or's voice answered: "Yes."
Here you can imagine for yourselves a series of adventurous strips: Qfwfq and or in
flight across the Continent of the Birds. Alarms, pursuit, dangers: I leave these to you. To tell the
story I should somehow describe what or was like; and I can't. Imagine a figure somehow
towering over mine, but which I somehow hide and protect.
We reached the edge of the chasm. It was dawn. The sun was rising, pale, to reveal our
continent now disappearing in the distance. How were we to reach it? I turned toward or: Or
opened her wings. (You hadn't noticed she had them, in the previous frames: two wings broad as
sails.) I clung to her cloak. Or flew.
In the next cartoons or is seen flying among the clouds, with my head peeping out from
her bosom. Then, a triangle of little black triangles in the sky: a swarm of birds pursuing us. We
are still in the midst of the void; our continent is approaching, but the swarm is faster. They are
birds of prey, with curved beaks, fiery eyes. If Or is quick to reach Earth, we will be among our
own kind, before the raptors can attack us. Hurry, Or, a few more flaps of your wings: in the next
strip we can reach safety.
Not a chance: now the swarm has surrounded us. Or is flying among the raptors (a little
white triangle drawn in another triangle full of little black triangles). We are flying over my
village: Or would have only to fold her wings and let herself drop, and we would be free. But Or
continues flying high, along with the birds. I shouted: "Or, move lower!" She opened her cloak
and let me fall. ("Plop!") The swarm, with Or in their midst, turns in the sky, goes back, becomes
tiny on the horizon. I find myself flat on the ground, alone.
(Title: During Qfwfq's absence, many changes had taken place.) Since the existence of
birds had been discovered, the ideas that governed our world had come to a crisis. What
everyone had thought he understood before, the simple and regular way in which things were as
they were, was no longer valid; in other words: this was nothing but one of the countless
possibilities; nobody excluded the possibility that things could proceed in other, entirely different
ways. You would have said that now each individual was ashamed of being the way he was

89
expected to be, and was making an effort to show some irregular, unforeseen aspect: a slightly
more birdlike aspect, or if not exactly birdlike, at least sufficiently so to keep him from looking
out of place alongside the strangeness of the birds. I no longer recognized my neighbors. Not that
they were much changed: but those who had some inexplicable characteristic which they had
formerly tried to conceal now put it on display. And they all looked as if they were expecting
something any moment: not the punctual succession of causes and effects as in the past, but the
unexpected.
I couldn't get my bearings. The others thought I had stuck to the old ideas, to the time
before the birds; they didn't understand that to me their birdish whims were only laughable: I
had seen much more than that, I had visited the world of the things that could have been, and I
couldn't drive it from my mind. And I had known the beauty kept prisoner in the heart of that
world, the beauty lost for me and for all of us, and I had fallen in love with it.
I spent my days on the top of a mountain, gazing at the sky in case a bird flew across it.
And on the peak of another mountain nearby there was old U(h), also looking at the sky. Old U(h)
was still considered the wisest of us all, but his attitude toward the birds had changed.
He believed the birds were no longer a mistake, but the truth, the only truth of the
world. He had taken to interpreting the birds' flight, trying to read the future in it.
"Seen anything?" he shouted to me, from his mountain.
"Nothing in sight," I said.
"There's one!" we would shout at times, he or I.
"Where was it coming from? I didn't have time to see from what part of the sky it
appeared. Tell me: where from?" he asked, all breathless. U(h) drew his auguries from the source
of the flight.
Or else it was I who asked: "What direction was it flying in? I didn't see it! Did it vanish
over here or over there?" because I hoped the birds would show me the way to reach Or.
There's no use my telling you in detail the cunning I used to succeed in returning to the
Continent of the Birds. In the strips it would be told with one of those tricks that work well only
in drawings. (The frame is empty. I arrive. I spread paste on the upper right-hand corner. I sit
down in the lower left-hand corner. A bird enters, flying, from the left, at the top. As he leaves
the frame, his tail becomes stuck. He keeps flying and pulls after him the whole frame stuck to his
tail, with me sitting at the bottom, allowing myself to be carried along. Thus I arrive at the Land
of the Birds. If you don't like this story you can think up another one: the important thing is to
have me arrive there.)
I arrived and I felt my arms and legs clutched. I was surrounded by birds; one had
perched on my head; one was pecking at my neck. "Qfwfq, you're under arrest! We've caught
you, at last!" I was shut up in a cell.
"Will they kill me?" I asked the jailer bird.
"Tomorrow you'll be tried and then you'll know," he said, perched on the bars.
"Who's going to judge me?"
"The Queen of the Birds."
The next day I was led into the throne room. But I had seen before that enormous shell-
egg that was opening.
I started. "Then you're not a prisoner of the birds!" I exclaimed.
A beak dug into my neck. "Bow down before Queen Org-Onir-Ornit-Or!"
Or made a sign. All the birds stopped. (In the drawing you see a slender, beringed hand
which rises from an arrangement of feathers.)
"Marry me and you'll be safe," Or said.
Our wedding was celebrated. I can't tell you anything about this either: the only thing
that's remained in my memory is a feathery flutter of iridescent images. Perhaps I was paying for
my happiness by renouncing any understanding of what I was living through.
I asked Or.
"I would like to understand."
"What?"
"Everything, all this."
I gestured toward my surroundings.
"You'll understand when you've forgotten what you understood before."
Night fell. The shell-egg served both as throne and as nuptial bed.
"Have you forgotten?"
"Yes. What? I don't know what, I don't remember anything."
(Frame of Qfwfq's thoughts: No, I still remember, I'm about to forget everything, but I'm
forcing myself to remember!)
"Come." We lay down together.
(Frame of Qfwfq's thoughts: I'm forgetting . . . It's beautiful to forget . . . No, I want to
remember . . . I want to forget and remember at the same time . . . Just another second and I feel
I'll have forgotten . . . Wait . . . Oh! An explosion marked with the word "Flash!" or else "Eureka!"
in capital letters.)

90
 For a fraction of a second between the loss of everything I knew before and the gain of
everything I would know afterward, I managed to embrace in a single thought the world of things
as they were and of things as they could have been, and I realized that a single system included
all. The world of birds, of monsters, of Or's beauty was the same as the one where I had always
lived, which none of us had understood wholly.
"Or! I understand! You! How beautiful! Hurrah!" I exclaimed and I sat up in the bed.
My bride let out a cry.
"Now I'll explain it to you!" I said, exultant. "Now I'll explain everything to everyone!"
"Be quiet!" Or shouted. "You must be quiet!"
"The world is single and what exists can't be explained without . . ." I proclaimed. Now
she was over me, she was trying to suffocate me (in the drawing: a breast crushing me): "Be
quiet! Be quiet!"
Hundreds of beaks and claws were tearing the canopy of the nuptial bed. The birds fell
upon me, but beyond their wings I could recognize my native landscape, which was becoming
fused with the alien continent.
"There's no difference. Monsters and nonmonsters have always been close to one
another! What hasn't been continues to be . . ." -- I was speaking not only to the birds and the
monsters but also to those I had always known, who were rushing in on every side.
"Qfwfq! You've lost me! Birds! He's yours!" and the Queen pushed me away.
Too late, I realized how the birds' beaks were intent on separating the two worlds that
my revelation had united. "No, wait, don't move away, the two of us together, Or . . . where are
you?" I was rolling in the void among scraps of paper and feathers.
(The birds, with beaks and claws, tear up the page of strips. Each flies off with a scrap of
printed paper in his beak. The page below is also covered with strip drawings; it depicts the world
as it was before the birds' appearance and its successive, predictable developments. I'm among
the others, with a bewildered look. In the sky there are still birds, but nobody pays attention to
them any more.)
Of what I understood then, I've now forgotten everything. What I've told you is all I can
reconstruct, with the help of conjectures in the episodes with the most gaps. I have never
stopped hoping that the birds might one day take me back to Queen Or. But are they real birds,
these ones that have remained in our midst? The more I observe them, the less they suggest
what I would like to remember.
(The last strip is all photographs: a bird, the same bird in close-up, the head of the bird
enlarged, a detail of the head, the eye . . .)

Rubric for short answer:

Task/Activity CRITERIA Percentag
e
Correct Answer with 50%
In a very short paragraph
Supporting Details
explain the origin of the birds.
Grammar & Mechanics 50%
Explain in your own words.
100%

TOPIC 12: REGION 11

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Davao_Region

Davao Region, formerly called Southern Mindanao (Cebuano: Habagatang

Mindanao), is an administrative region in the Philippines, designated as Region XI.[2] It is
situated at the southeastern portion of Mindanao, comprising five provinces: Davao de Oro,
Davao del Norte, Davao del Sur, Davao Oriental, and Davao Occidental. The region encloses
the Davao Gulf, and its regional center is Davao City. Dávao is the Hispanicized
pronunciation of daba-daba, the Bagobo word for "fire".

Famous Writers in Region 11

1. LEONCIO P. DERIADA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Leoncio_P._Deriada
Is a Filipino writer. He was born in Iloilo but spent most of his life in Davao. He went
to school at the Davao City High School and graduated in 1955. He earned his BA English
degree at the Ateneo de Davao University where he graduated cum laude in 1959. He later
received his MA in English from Xavier University in 1970 and went on to receive his PhD in
English and Literature with a specialization in creative writing from Silliman University in
1981 where he later on served as professor and chairperson of the English Department. [1]
He is a multi-lingual writer having produced works in English, Filipino, Hiligaynon,
Kinaray-a and Cebuano. His seventeen Palanca Awards include works in English, Filipino and

91
 Hiligaynon. Of these seventeen, five are first-prize winners, and these include "The Day of
the Locusts" (Short Story, 1975), "Mutya ng Saging" (Dulaang May Isang Yugto, 1987), "The
Man Who Hated Birds" (Short Story for Children, 1993), "Medea of Siquijor" (One-Act Play,
1999), and "Maragtas: How Kapinangan Tricked Sumakwel Twice" (Full-Length Play, 2001).
He became a Palanca Hall of Famer on September 1, 2001. Aside from his Palanca awards,
he has garnered other prestigious awards such as the Gawad CCP para sa Sining, Gawad
Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas (awarded by the Unyon ng mga Manunulat sa Pilipinas),
Asiaweek, Graphic, Focus, Yuhum Magazine (Iloilo), and Blue Knight Award from Ateneo de
Davao for Outstanding Achievement in Literature. In 2002, he was one of Metrobank's
Outstanding Teachers. He is Professor Emeritus at the University of the Philippines Visayas,
where he was the head of the Sentro ng Wikang Filipino. He was also an associate of the
U.P. Institute of Creative Writing.[1]

2. DANNY C. SILLADA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Danny_Sillada
(born April 27, 1963) is a Filipino artist, writer and cultural critic from Mindanao.
Sillada has contributed to various art forms, from painting, to music and performance art. He
was a recipient of 2003 "Pasidungog Centennial Awards" for literary and visual arts, a
centennial event that was attended by the president of the Philippines Gloria Macapagal-
Arroyo in his hometown province in Davao Oriental.
In 2005, Sillada was controversial for his artwork titled Menstrual Period in Political
History,[4] “a satirical take on the recurring political crisis in the Philippines. This controversial
mixed media piece (an attempt was made to destroy it at the height of the “Hello Garci”
political scandal) reflects the artist’s critical stance toward the power struggles that “are
putting our country into pit.””
As a multi-talented artist, Sillada also writes and publishes poetry and philosophical
essays both on print and on-line, composes and performs ethnic songs, hip-hop and ethno-
techno music at the local Metro Manila alternative venues. He was described in a research
paper submitted to the University Of Asia and the Pacific as “the embodiment of a Filipino
who defies the existing trend. His multi-faceted attribute in the humanities, as a Renaissance
man, is identical with those of well-rounded historical figures during the Renaissance period
in Europe. Sillada is a visual artist recognized in the Philippine art scene for his paintings and
installation artworks, a literary writer who is into prose and poetry, a philosopher, whose
writings are akin with existentialism, a first-rate performance artist, and also an art-critic."
An excerpt of the research paper on Danny Sillada submitted to the University of Asia and
the Pacific by Michael Marlowe Uy and Katrina Kalaw is available online.
He studied priesthood (Roman Catholic) at the Pontifical and Royal University of
Santo Tomas and San Carlos Seminary, Philippines, but left his vocation six months before his
ordination to the Sacrament of Holy Orders to become a full-time artist.
Sillada obtained his BA Philosophy and Literature at the Queen of Apostles College
Seminary, Davao (1986); his graduate and post graduate studies in Bachelor in Sacred
Theology (1990) and Pastoral Theology (1991) at the University of Santo Tomas, Manila, and
his MBA (units) at the Ateneo de Manila University (1993), Philippines.

1. How the Moon and the Stars Came to Be

http://getwokebooklist.com/sacredtexts/asia/pft/pft34.htm#:~:text=One%20day%20in%20the
%20times,went%20out%20to%20pound%20rice.&text=Immediately%20the%20sky%20began
%20to,stars%20that%20are%20scattered%20about.

How the Moon and the Stars Came to Be

Bukidnon (Mindanao)
One day in the times when the sky was close to the ground a spinster went out to
pound rice. Before she began her work, she took off the beads from around her neck and
the comb from her hair, and hung them on the sky, which at that time looked like coral rock.
Then she began working, and each time that she raised her pestle into the air it
struck the sky. For some time, she pounded the rice, and then she raised the pestle so high
that it struck the sky very hard.
Immediately the sky began to rise, and it went up so far that she lost her
ornaments. Never did they come down, for the comb became the moon and the beads are
the stars that are scattered about.

Task/Activity
The story is very short and it end with
92the comb which became the moon and the
beds which became the stars that scatter. If you will be given a chance to change that
ending what ending will it be which needs to be well-matched with the title?
The same rubric for short answer will be used.
 2. The Story of the Creation
https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/creation-phil.html#story

The Story of the Creation

Bilaan (Mindanao)

In the very beginning there lived a being so large that he cannot be compared with
any known thing. His name was Melu, and when he sat on the clouds, which were his home,
he occupied all the space above. His teeth were pure gold, and because he was very cleanly
and continually rubbed himself with his hands, his skin became pure white. The dead skin
which he rubbed off his body was placed on one side in a pile, and by and by this pile
became so large that he was annoyed and set himself to consider what he could do with it.
Finally, Melu decided to make the earth; so, he worked very hard in putting the
dead skin into shape, and when it was finished, he was so pleased with it that he determined
to make two beings like himself, though smaller, to live on it.
Taking the remnants of the material left after making the earth he fashioned two
men, but just as they were all finished except their noses, Tau Tana from below the earth
appeared and wanted to help him.
Melu did not wish any assistance, and a great argument ensued. Tau Tana finally
won his point and made the noses which he placed on the people upside down. When all
was finished, Melu and Tau Tana whipped the forms until they moved. Then Melu went to
his home above the clouds, and Tau Tana returned to his place below the earth.
All went well until one day a great rain came, and the people on the earth nearly
drowned from the water which ran off their heads into their noses. Melu, from his place on
the clouds, saw their danger, and he came quickly to earth and saved their lives by turning
their noses the other side up.
The people were very grateful to him, and promised to do anything he should ask of
them. Before he left for the sky, they told him that they were very unhappy living on the
great earth all alone, so he told them to save all the hair from their heads and the dry skin
from their bodies and the next time he came he would make them some companions. And
in this way, there came to be a great many people on the earth.

Task/Activity
If you were given a chance to design the human body/face, where will you put the
nose? Explain it very well. Short answer rubric will be used.

3. The Children of the Limokon

https://www.pitt.edu/~dash/creation-phil.html#limokon

The Children of the Limokon

Mandaya (Mindanao)
In the very early days before there were any people on the earth, the limokon (a
kind of dove) were very powerful and could talk like men though they looked like birds.
One limokon laid two eggs, one at the mouth of the Mayo River and one farther up its
course. After some time, these eggs hatched, and the one at the mouth of the river
became a man, while the other became a woman.
The man lived alone on the bank of the river for a long time, but he was very
lonely and wished many times for a companion. One day when he was crossing the river
something was swept against his legs with such force that it nearly caused him to
drown. On examining it, he found that it was a hair, and he determined to go up the
river and find whence it came. He traveled up the stream, looking on both banks, until
finally he found the woman, and he was very happy to think that at last he could have a
companion.
They were married and had many children, who the Mandaya still are living
along the Mayo River.
Task/Activity
93
*Informal Essay Rubric Informal Essay Rubric
Make a reflection of this story
CRITERIA Percentage
which needs a real-life situation. Quality of Writing 50%
Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
TOPIC 13: REGION 12 100%

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soccsksargen

Soccsksargen (officially styled as SOCCSKSARGEN) (pronounced [sokˈsardʒɛn]),

formerly known as Central Mindanao, is an administrative region of the Philippines, located
in south-central Mindanao. It is numerically designated as Region XII. The name is an
acronym that stands for the region's four provinces and one highly urbanized city (South
Cotabato, Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Sarangani and General Santos). The regional center is in
Koronadal located in the province of South Cotabato, and the center of commerce and
industry is General Santos, which is the most populous city in the Region.

Famous Writer in Region 12

1. RICARDO "RICKY" M. DE UNGRIA
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ricardo_de_Ungria
Is a Filipino poet. He graduated with a BA Literature, cum laude, degree from the De
La Salle University and an MFA in Creative Writing from Washington University in St. Louis,
United States in 1990 when he was awarded a Fulbright grant. He received writing residency
fellowships at the Hawthornden Castle International Retreat for Writers in 1991 and the
Bellagio Study of Conference Center in 1993. In 1999, he moved to Davao City to become
the first dean of the College of Humanities and Social Sciences of the newly established
University of the Philippines Mindanao campus. In the same year, he founded the Davao
Writers Guild that eventually published the works of its members and held poetry readings
in the different universities in the city; published DAGMAY, which was the first literary page
in a local newspaper SunStar Davao in the island (it is now available online); and initiated the
Davao Writing Workshops in 2005 that became an annual first-level training ground for
young and beginning writers in the region and in the island. While serving as Chancellor of
UP Mindanao, he also organized the Davao Colleges and Universities Network (DACUN) in
2001 and the Mindanao Studies Consortium Foundation, Inc. in 2003, both being a
consortium of universities in the Davao region (DACUN) and in Mindanao (MSCFI). He also
organized in 2004 the Mindanao Science and Technology Park Consortium Foundation, Inc.
that was a consortium of academic institutions and government agencies in the Mintal area
of the city. He continues to be a fellow of the University of the Philippines Institute of
Creative Writing in UP Diliman. He has served as a panelist in various writing workshops,
notably the UP Diliman, Silliman University, Davao Writers Guild, and the Ateneo de Davao
Writers workshops. He was also the head of the Committee on Literary Arts at the National
Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA) where he became a Commissioner for the Arts
in 2007-2010 and served as Festival Director of three Philippine International Arts Festivals
held in February.
He is a founding member of Philippine Literary Arts Council (PLAC), and a member of the
Unyon ng mga Manunulat ng Pilipinas (UMPIL), and Davao Writers Guild. For his
achievements in literature and writing, he was awarded the Gawad Balagtas by the UMPIL in
1999 and the Patnubay ng Sining at Kalinangan (Literature) by the City of Manila in 2007. He
was also UP Artist 1 from 2009–11 and 2012 to the present time and the recipient of seven
National Book Awards. He teaches creative writing and literature in the Humanities
Department of the College of Humanities and Social Sciences of U.P. Mindanao.

1. The Monkey and the Turtle

https://www.univie.ac.at/Voelkerkunde/apsis/aufi/folk/folk-l01.htm

The Monkey and the Turtle

A Monkey, looking very sad and dejected, was walking along the bank of the river one
day when he met a turtle.
"How are you?" asked the turtle, noticing that he looked sad.
The monkey replied, "Oh, my friend, I am very hungry. The squash of Mr. Farmer was all
taken by the other monkeys, and now I am about to die from want of food."

94
 "Do not be discouraged," said the turtle; "take a bob and follow me and we will steal
some banana plants."
So they walked along together until they found some nice plants which they dug up, and
then they looked for a place to set them. Finally, the monkey climbed a tree and planted his
in it, but as the turtle could not climb, he dug a hole in the ground and set his there.
When their work was finished, they went away, planning what they should do with their
crop. The monkey said:
"When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and have a great deal of money."
And the turtle said: "When my tree bears fruit, I shall sell it and buy three varas of cloth
to wear in place of this cracked shell."
A few weeks later they went back to the place to see their plants and found that that of
the monkey was dead, for its roots had had no soil in the tree, but that of the turtle was tall
and bearing fruit.
"I will climb to the top so that we can get the fruit," said the monkey. And he sprang up
the tree, leaving the poor turtle on the ground alone.
"Please give me some to eat," called the turtle, but the monkey threw him only a green
one and ate all the the ripe ones himself.
When he had eaten all the good bananas, the monkey stretched his arms around the
tree and went to sleep. The turtle, seeing this, was very angry and considered how he might
punish the thief. Having decided on a scheme, he gathered some sharp bamboo which he all
around under the tree, and then he exclaimed:
Crocodile is coming! Crocodile is coming!"
The monkey was so startled at the cry that he fell upon the sharp bamboo and was
killed.
Then the turtle cut the dead monkey into pieces, put on it, and dried it in the sun. The
next day, he went to the mountains and sold his meat to other monkeys who gladly gave
him squash in return. As he was leaving them, he called back:
"Lazy fellows, you are now eating your own body; you are now eating your own body."
Then the monkeys ran and caught him and carried to their own home.
Let us take a hatchet," said one old monkey, "and cut him into very small pieces."
But the turtle laughed and said: "That is just what I like. I have been struck with a
hatchet many times. Do you not see the black scars on my shell?"
Then one of the other monkeys said: "Let us throw him into the water."
At this the turtle cried and begged them to spare his life, but they paid no heed to his
pleadings and threw him into the water. He sank to the bottom, but very soon came up with
a lobster. The monkeys were greatly surprised at this and begged him to tell them how to
catch lobsters.
"I tied one end of a string around my waist," said the turtle. "To the other end of the
string I tied a stone so that I would sink."
The monkeys immediately tied strings around themselves as the turtle said, and when
all was ready they plunged into the water never to come up again.
And to this day monkeys do not like to eat meat, because they remember the ancient
story.

Task/Activity

Exercise: Elements of the Story

Fill the boxes below by the information given in the story
Characters Setting Plot

Conflict Resolution Theme

Moral Lesson

95
 2. Ulahingan
https://www.kapitbisig.com/philippines/english-version-of-epics-mga-epiko-ulahingan-the-visit-
of-lagabaan-to-nelendangan-of-the-manobos-of-north-cotabato_1188.html

Ulahingan: The Visit of Lagaba’an to Nelendangan

(Of the Manobos of North Cotabato)

Nalandangan is the later name of an ancient city fortress called by different names,
among them: Yendang, Manengneng, Libalan, and Newili-an. A chosen people, loved by the
Highest God of the skyworld, dwell in the fortress city. They have come from Aruman, by
riding a huge ship.
The people built the city, a huge structure along the seashore at the mouth of a
river, using trees for pillars. The trees are so big that eight men are needed to link hands
around each one. The beams point to the east, their tips decked with statues of reptiles
carved with their mouths open, daggerlike teeth exposed. The hair of the mermaid and the
locks of the deity Alimugkat, goddess of the seas, layered with grass from the skyworld,
make up the roof of the fortress. On the eaves is a frieze of statues of dazzling red warriors;
and on top of the building are two warriors of gold, each armed with a spear, a shield, and a
buckler, both poised for battle. West of the building is a statue of a beautiful maiden,
washing herself in a stream; in the east, a statue of a golden eagle with wings outspread.
Surrounding the building are shrubs and flowering plants. The huge palace also has a
courtyard of silver and a playground of glass. A mountain of destroyed shields and bucklers,
spear shafts, and uprooted trees, hems in a battlefield. Scattered around are the teeth,
skulls, and hair of previous invaders. Agyu's room, called the "bengyasan", is coated with
paint nine times over. The bathing place of the maidens is fenced by boulders to protect
them from sharks and crocodiles. The floor is made of silver; the inside wall of glass. There
are also bathing places for the married women, for Agyu the hero, and for the young men.
They never remove their armours when they bathe.
Nalandangan also has fortifications. Each of the well-known warriors – Kuyasu,
nephew of Agyu; Seyluwen, the son; Piglibu, the brother; Banlak/Vanlak, another brother;
Nebeyaw, another son; and Agyu -- is assigned a fort. Agyu's fort is built of iron and steel.
This fort is specially provided with a cover on which eight or ten men can perform the "sa-
ul". Invaders reach no farther than the opening of the fort.
After a period of peace comes an eventful time for the people and warriors of
Nalandangan. Elbowing one another and splattering betel quid onto the floor, the people
are assembled in the palace. Agyu's brother Lena/Lono has convented the people to an
assembly while Agyu has been sleeping for days. When he wakes up, Agyu asks his wife for
the water container to wash his face and for the betel chew. Directing his eyes to Lena, the
favorite son of Nalandangan, Agyu recites his foreboding dream about the darkness and
destruction of Nalandangan. He has dreamt that hardwood trees are uprooted and flung to
distant places, and that the cliffs of the sea are turned to dust.
Pigyugung or Pemulew, Agyu's older brother, dreams that invaders have come.
Agyu wants to offer a prayer because he thinks that the goddess of fate has forsaken him
and his people. Thunder booms. Unperturbed, Lena laughs faintly and says that the morrow
will show whether or not they are an abandoned people. Just then, the invaders reach the
fortress. Lena orders the young people to arm themselves. They grab weapons from the
piles of shields and spears, and they delight in putting on their battle gear again after a long
time.
Vanlak, the younger brother of Agyu, shouts that he will lead the attack against the
"darkness" that has enveloped the fortress of Nalandangan. Agyu's son, Nebeyew, is just as
ready as any other young man. With his plume, he paces around the courtyard like a cock at
the edge of the lawn. Soon, he is fighting the invaders who fall like fruit from a tree. He
raises his arm, and from it come a flame that lights the place, revealing that the "darkness"
has caused a magic iron rod to disable or devour many of Agyu's followers.
Lena arms himself carefully, with the orioles hovering over his plume, signifying his
diwata is guiding and protecting him. The he leaps on to the pebbled arena, and he sinks
deep there up to his belt. He instructs his shield and buckler to be firmly rooted to the
foundation of the underworld. Then, the enormous magic iron rod warns him to be ready
because he might be blown by a storm or swallowed up by a mighty wind. The iron rod now
96
 withdraws to the sea and from there trots back to the battlefield, knocking Lena's shield and
buckler to pieces. Lena leaps overhead, grapples with the rod, and throws it to the outer
space. The rod devastates every kingdom that it passes.
When it returns, it warns Lena of its revenge. The rod tries to gnaw Lena's slender
waist, but Lena's waist is alloyed. Then Lena grabs the rod, and, locked together, they spin,
until Lena smashes it against the hardwood trees and the cliff, turning them into a
wasteland. Lena then implores his protecting diwata to turn his legs with anklets into sharp
swords, and his limbs into sabers. With them, he splinters and powders the monster of iron.
But out of the splinters and powder appears a fleet of invading ships. In one ship is a king,
and from all come a thousand troops. They land and destroy the plantations, the trees, and
gardens. The people of Yendang are fettered on the decks of the ships. Lena leaps onto the
decks and pulverizes the chain that binds them by simply touching it. His freed followers are
transported back to the spacious courtyard.
A toddler welcomes the old king to Yendang. As the king sits at the portal of the
courtyard, he is directed to see for himself his own ships being splintered and strewn
around. Unmoved, the king only encourages his followers to continue devastating the
gardens and plantations. Lena chases the invaders around, and they assemble at the
seashore. Their king exhorts them to shout and to knock their shields to produce a
thunderous peal by which to frighten the inhabitants of Yendang. The local folks respond by
following Lena's instructions to produce an even more deafening sound that drowns out the
invaders' shouts and banging of shields. Then, Lena tells his followers to dance the sa-ut, for
he says that the battle will be awkward without it.
The war dance is just a warm-up to the fighting that ensues in the lawn. Both young
and old warriors participate in the battle. The enemies flee, but they are chased up to the
underbushes of the mountains, where they are decimated. The king of the invaders tells his
aide to save his men. The aide plants his shield, which becomes a cliff in the middle of the
lawn to shelter their warriors, although he claims it is for the people who are scared of the
fighting. Either Dayuen, Agyu's cousin, or Delemenen, his son, knocks the shield away.
Delemenen spears the king's aide. Losing his aide, the king arms himself. He commands his
anklets and ringlets to ring the place up to the mountains and hills, making the place an
impenetrable jungle. The king also commands his shield and buckler to grow taller and wider
until they are fastened to the gilded beams of the palace, becoming a blocking cliff. The king
taunts Lena to bypass the obstacle. Lena does not take the challenge right away, but he
performs the sa-ut. As he does so, he kicks the obstacles along the seashore. Then Lena
moves to the lawn and tests the strength and solidity of the planted shield and buckler of
the king, who again taunts him. The shield and the buckler receive greater pressure from
Lena, and they confess that they are like ropes snapping, Lena soon turns them into
splinters.
Lena fights with the king. The king's spear and javelin are ground to dust. Then, they
fight with their daggers and kampilan blades, but Lena turns his opponent's blades to dust.
The two wrestle, and, as they are grappling, a smoke arises in their midst, but neither one of
them yields. Lena then hurls himself skyward to look for the "sipa" or ball of the sky. With
this ball, he encases the king, who, however, frees himself easily. The king shackles Lena's
feet. The fetters are attached to a gigantic tree and a balite tree, which is ordered to fasten
its trunk to the land of the dead and the gilded beam of the palace. However, Lena frees
himself easily. Lena retaliates by hurling the king up into space. But the king returns to the
courtyard. Confronting Lena, he uses the hair of a diety to bind him, and although Lena can
wriggle, he cannot free himself.
Meanwhile, in another land lives one of Agyu's relatives: Tigyekuwa, Agyu's first
wife, and their son Kumugpa. The boy has been crying the whole day long, and to stop him,
the mother promises him that they will visit his father Agyu if he ceases to cry. When they
arrive at Yendang, they find Lena already bound. Tigyekuwa then approaches Lena and
touches the hair that binds him and he is freed. She also identifies Lena's adversary as his
true father, who has never visited Nalandangan before. The king's eyes moisten , unable to
recognize the multitude of his children, his grandchildren and his great great grandchildren.

Answer the following questions: (Short answer rubric will be used)

Task/Activity
1. Who are the characters in the story?
2. Where did the story happen?
3. What is the moral lesson in the story?
4. What is the theme of this story?
97
 TOPIC 14: REGION 13

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Caraga

Caraga, also known as Caraga Region, designated as Region XIII, is an administrative

region in the Philippines, occupying the northeastern section of the island of Mindanao. The
Caraga Region was created through Republic Act No. 7901 on February 23, 1995. The region
comprises five provinces: Agusan del Norte, Agusan del Sur, Dinagat Islands, Surigao del
Norte, and Surigao del Sur; six cities: Bayugan, Bislig, Butuan, Cabadbaran, Surigao and
Tandag; 67 municipalities and 1,311 barangays. Butuan is the regional administrative center.

Region 13 Writer:
1. JOEY AYALA
http://region13writerjoeyayala.blogspot.com/

In the Philippine Literature written texts like books that are written by author's are the
most common on Philippine literature but this man give contribution in the Philippine
literature not just in books but in a form of songs, not just songs but ethnic songs that talks
about the environment.This man is the one and only Joey Ayala. Do you ever wonder that
his songs are part of the Philippine literature? All of his songs are more on the traditional
songs like tagalog folk songs and those songs are considered to be in the Philippine
literature. How can this man contributes in the Philippine literature?If we question ourselves
why should we appreciate the works of our regional writers like Joey Ayala? We should find
this out by reading the text.

He also has contributions in the Philippine Literature like his songs for promoting
environmental awareness and arts education from ancestral roots to new artistic routes of
musical expression advocating for the protection of the environment and the conservation
of natural resources. Can you imagine in the form of songs he give contribution to our very
own Philippine literature? He has won many awards like the Awit award for best Folk-pop
recording to his song Karaniwang tao, Awit Award for best musical arrangement for his song
Maglakad and many awards. We should support or appreciate the works of our regional
writers because they bring the pride of the Philippine literature and they also help
maintaining the improvement of our beloved Philippine Literature.

1. Tuwaang Attends the Wedding

https://www.kapitbisig.com/philippines/english-version-of-epics-mga-epiko-tuwaang-attends-a-
wedding-the-second-song-of-the-manuvu-ethnoepic-tuwaang-cycle_1186.html

Tuwaang Attends a Wedding

(The second song of the Manuvu Ethnoepic Tuwaang cycle)
Tuwaang, after finishing some work, calls his aunt aside and informs her that the
wind has brought him a message: he is to attend the wedding of the Maiden of Momawon.
The aunt tries to dissuade him from going, for she foresees trouble. Tuwaang, however, is
determined to go. He picks the heart-shaped costume made by goddesses, arms himself
with a long blade and dagger, and takes his shield and spear. He rides on a flash of lightning
and arrives at the "kawkawangan" grassland. While resting there a while, he hears a
"gungutan" bird crowing. He decides to catch the fowl, but soon sees the "gungutan" with a
daggerlike spur. The "gungutan" tells Tuwaang he came to know of his coming in a dream
and that he wants to go with him to the wedding celebration. Tuwaang agrees to bring the
"gungutan" along. The two shake their shoulders and are carried into space.
Upon arriving at Momawon, Tuwaang is admitted into the hall. He sits on a golden
stool, while the "gungutan" perches on a crossbeam. Meantime, enchanting sounds from
afar and flowering trees signal the arrival of the Young Man of Panayangan. Other gallants –
the Young Man of Liwanon and the Young Man of the Rising Sun – arrive. Finally, the groom,
the Young Man of Sakadna, arrives with a hundred followers. He haughtily asks the
houseowner to clear the house "of dirt," implying the people in the house who do not count.
To this insult Tuwaang answers there are "red leaves," i.e. heroes, in the house.
Preliminaries of the wedding ceremony start. The "savakan" (bride-wealth
consisting of articles and wrapped food to be paid for by the groom's kinsmen) are offered
98
 one by one, until only the two most costly remain. One is given the value of an ancient gong
with ten bosses and nine relief-rings; the other is redeemable only by a golden guitar and a
golden flute. The groom confesses his inability to redeem these articles. Tuwaang saves the
groom from the embarrassing predicament by taking his place: through his magic breath he
produces a more ancient gong, which is accepted by the bride's party. He also produces the
golden flute and golden guitar.
The bride is now asked to come out of her room and serve the guests some betel
chew. She commands her betel box to serve everyone. Magically the betel box obeys, with
the betel chew jumping into the mouths of the guests. After two betel chews leap into the
groom's mouth, the betel box moves on to Tuwaang, before whom it stops altogether.
Tuwaang brushes it away, but the box does not budge. The bride decides to sit beside
Tuwaang.
The groom blushes; he is shamed. He decides to fight Tuwaang. He goes down the
house and challenges Tuwaang to come down to the yard. After the bride unrolls and combs
Tuwaang's hair, Tuwaang goes down to fight. The "gungutan", meanwhile, has been fighting
the groom's men and has slain a number of them until only six gallants remain. Tuwaang and
the gungutan engage the six gallants.
Finally, only Tuwaang and the Young Man of Sakadna are left moving about.
Tuwaang is thrown against a boulder, which turns into dust. Trees get bent and topple.
Tuwaang gets hold of his foe, throws him down so hard that he sinks into the earth. The
Young Man of Sakadna surfaces quickly and confronts Tuwaang once more. Tuwaang in turn
is thrust into the earth and sinks into the Underworld. There he talks to Tuhawa', god of the
Underworld, who tells him the secret to overcoming his foe. Tuwaang surfaces and
summons the golden flute in which the Young Man of Sakadna keeps his life. Tuwaang asks
his foe to become his vassal in exchange for his life. The groom prefers death. Tuwaang
therefore destroys the golden flute, ending his protagonist's life. Accompanied by the
"gungutan", Tuwaang takes his bride home to Kuaman, where he rules forever.

Task/Activity
* Write an essay about the meaningful message of the story especially to those students like
you facing this kind of pandemic today. Informal essay rubric will be used.

TOPIC 15: AUTONOMOUS REGION IN MUSLIM MINDANAO (ARMM)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Autonomous_Region_in_Muslim_Mindanao
The Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (Tagalog: Rehiyong Awtonomo ng
Muslim Mindanao; Arabic: ‫ الحكم الذاتي االقليمي لمسلمي مندناو‬Al-ḥukm adh-dhātiyy al-'aqlīmiyy
limuslimiyy mindanāu; abbreviated as ARMM) was an autonomous region of the Philippines,
located in the Mindanao island group of the Philippines, that consisted of five predominantly
Muslim provinces: Basilan (except Isabela City), Lanao del Sur, Maguindanao, Sulu, and Tawi-
Tawi. It was the only region that had its own government. The region's de facto seat of
government was Cotabato City, although this self-governing city was outside its jurisdiction.
The ARMM included the province of Shariff Kabunsuan from its creation in 2006
until July 16, 2008, when Shariff Kabunsuan ceased to exist as a province after the Supreme
Court of the Philippines declared the "Muslim Mindanao Autonomy Act 201", which created
it, unconstitutional in Sema v. COMELEC and Dilangalen.
On October 7, 2012, President Benigno Aquino III said that the government aimed
to have peace in the autonomous region and that it would become known as the
Bangsamoro Autonomous Region, a compound of bangsa (nation) and Moro. On July 26,
2018, Aquino's successor, President Rodrigo Duterte, signed the Bangsamoro Organic Law
(BOL), which paved the way for the establishment of a new autonomous political entity in
the area, the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao (BARMM).
ARMM was nominally disestablished after the ratification of BOL and will be
effectively replaced by the BARMM upon the constitution of the Bangsamoro Transition
Authority, an interim government for the region. The law was "deemed ratified" on January
25, 2019 following the January 21.

Famous writers in ARMM

1. NUR MISUARI
Was born on March 3, 1939 in Tapul, Sulu, Philippines. The fourth of ten children,
his parents were of Tausūg-Sama descent and came from Kabinga-an, Tapul Island. His
father was Saliddain Misuari, who worked as a fisherman, and his mother was Dindanghail
99
 Pining. Nur Misuari is a direct descendant of Panglima Mahabasser Elidji, a Tausūg warrior
and representative from the Sultanate of Sulu who he claims helped the Sultanate of Brunei
forces under Sultan Muhyiddin during the civil war in northern Borneo, after which the
eastern part of Sabah was rewarded to the Tausūgs by Sultan Muhyiddin. Misuari's father
moved their family from Tapul to Jolo, Sulu when he was still young. He attended Jolo
Central Elementary School from 1949 to 1955 and studied at Sulu National High School for
his secondary education from 1955 to 1958. Misuari's family experienced financial
difficulties and could not afford to send him to college. His teacher assisted him to acquire a
scholarship from the Commission on National Integration, which allowed him to study at the
University of the Philippines, Manila.
Misuari initially took up a degree in liberal arts, intending to pursue medicine.
Instead, Misuari shifted his course to political science in his second semester with the intent
of taking up law, despite the fact that his father "hated" lawyers. He became active in many
of the university's extra-curricular activities, particularly in debate. After attaining his
bachelor's degree in political science from the University of the Philippines in 1962, he
entered the College of Law at University of the Philippines, Diliman but dropped his law
studies in his second year after being convinced by his mentor and now national author,
Caesar Majul, to pursue a master's degree related to political science. He finished his
master's degree in Asian studies in 1964 at the Asian Center of the University of the
Philippines, Diliman. In 1964, Misuari founded a radical student group called the Bagong
Asya (New Asia). Together with Jose Maria Sison, he also founded the Kabataan Makabayan
(Patriotic Youth).
Until 2016, Misuari had five wives, his first wife was Desdemona Tan, who died of
illness in Islamabad, Pakistan. The elder sister of the deceased Desdemona, Eleonora
Rohaida Tan then became his second wife. His third and fourth wives are Tarhata Ibrahim
and Maimona Palalisan. His fifth wife comes from the tribe of Subanen, while Sherry Rahim
became his sixth wife. As per polygyny, Islam allows men to marry up to four wives currently
alive at the same time, thought Misuari already have six wives, this does not include his first
wife who have been deceased.
2. CESAR ADIB MAJUL
(October 21, 1923 - October 11, 2003) was a Philippine historian best known for his
work on the history of Islam in the Philippines and on the life of Apolinario Mabini.

1. Pilandok Crosses a River

https://prezi.com/sgqlfci35xck/pilandok-crosses-the-river/?fallback=1

Pilandok crosses the river

One day Pilandok wanted to cross a wide and deep river. However, there was no
banca available. He wanted to swim to the other side but he was afraid of the crocodiles.
For a while, Pilandok did not know what to do. So he sat down near the bank of the
river then he started to think and an idea struck him. He shouted to the crocodiles that the
Datu wished to find out how many crocodiles were there in the river in order to feed them
all.
When the crocodiles heard this, they got out of their hiding places. Pilandok asked
them to form several lines extending from where he stood to the other bank of the river.
Then when the crocodiles had aligned themselves, Pilandok started counting them. As he
counted he jumped from crocodile’s back to the other. Then as soon as he had reached the
other side of the river, he jumped out.
Pilandok deceived the crocodiles and this is contrary to the hallmark because Christ
loves us so much and we have no right to fool our neighbors even if they are different from
us
When Pilandok deceived the crocodiles he showed that he was better than them
and this doesn’t show humility. We need to always be humble for we should do all things for
the glory of God.
We are called for service to do the common well and respect for the individual and
Pilandok was not able to serve and respect the crocodiles in the story and we should learn
that not just because we can take advantage of others that does not mean that we have the
right to take advantage. We should respect and serve one another.

Task/Activity
* If you were Pilandok what will you do to cross the river except for the trick he has already done?
100
Short Answer Rubric will be used.

2. The Maguindanao Tale of the Faithful Wife

http://falfazacalligraphy.blogspot.com/2017/10/the-maguindanao-tale-of-faithful-wife.html

The Maguindanao Tale of the Faithful Wife

Once there lived in the Sultanate of Bandiamasir an aged man who had an only son.
They lived comfortably together until the time came for the boy to marry. He loved a girl
from the same town but before he could make any arrangements, his father fell ill and was
soon near death. He called his son to him and said “My son, never marry a balo (widow) but
a raga (young lady).”
After his father died, the son made up his mind to find the meaning of his father’s
advice and forthwith married a raga. But he married two other women as well: a balo and
bituanem (divorce). As all three lived harmoniously together he kept puzzling over the
advice left to him by his father.
One day a new Sultan ascended the throne as the old one had died. This new Sultan
turned loose his magnificent rooster and then proclaimed that whoever touched it would be
killed.
When the son heard of this decree he was very glad because now he had a way of
testing his father’s advice. He caught the royal rooster and brought it home. Then he called
his three wives, showed them the rooster and said: “Kill the rooster and cook it for my
dinner.”
The three women turned pale when they realized the meaning of what he said. The
balo and the bituanem immediately refused and hurriedly left the house, not wanting to be
implicated in the crime.
The raga took the rooster, killed it and served it to her husband. Then he knew what
his father meant by his dying words. Only the raga could be faithful.

Task/Activity
*Informal Essay Rubric
Make a reflection paper CRITERIA Percentage
about this story. Quality of Writing 50%
Grammar, Usage & Mechanics 50%
100%
TOPIC 16: NATIONAL CAPITAL REGION (NCR)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Metro_Manila
Metropolitan Manila (often shortened as Metro Manila; Tagalog: Kalakhang
Maynila), officially the National Capital Region (NCR), is the seat of government and one of
three defined metropolitan areas in the Philippines. It is composed of 16 cities: the city of
Manila, Quezon City, Caloocan, Las Piñas, Makati, Malabon, Mandaluyong, Marikina,
Muntinlupa, Navotas, Parañaque, Pasay, Pasig, San Juan, Taguig, and Valenzuela, as well as
the municipality of Pateros. The region encompasses an area of 619.57 square kilometers
(239.22 sq mi) and a population of 12,877,253 as of 2015. It is the second most populous
and the most densely populated region of the Philippines. It is also the 9th most populous
metropolitan area in Asia and the 5th most populous urban area in the world.
The region is the center of culture, economy, education and government of the
Philippines. Designated as a global power city, the region exerts a significant impact on
commerce, finance, media, art, fashion, research, technology, education, and
entertainment, both locally and internationally. It is the home to all the consulates and
embassies in the Philippines, thereby making it an important center for international
diplomacy in the country. Its economic power makes the region the country's premier
center for finance and commerce. The region accounts for 37.2% of the gross domestic
product of the Philippines.
The region was established in 1975 through Presidential Decree No. 824 in response
to the needs to sustain the growing population and for the creation for the center of political
power and the seat of the Government of the Philippines. The Province of Manila, the
predecessor entity of the region, is one of the first eight provinces that revolted against the
Spanish colonial rule in the Philippines at the end of the 19th century. Manila's role in the
Revolution is honored in the Flag of the Philippines, where the sun's eight rays symbolize the
eight revolutionary provinces.
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Famous Writers in NCR
http://josadera.blogspot.com/2013/10/ncr-authors.html

1. LUALHATI BAUTISTA
Lualhati Torres Bautista (born Manila, Philippines December 2, 1945) is one of the
foremost Filipino female novelists in the history of contemporary Philippine Literature. Her
novels include Dekada '70, Bata, Bata, Pa'no Ka Ginawa?, and ‘GAPÔ.
Bautista was born in Tondo, Manila, Philippines on December 2, 1945 to Esteban
Bautista and Gloria Torres. She graduated from Emilio Jacinto Elementary School in 1958,
and from Torres High School in 1962. She was a journalism student at the Lyceum of the
Philippines, but dropped out even before she finished her freshman year.Despite a lack of
formal training, Bautista as the writer became known for her honest realism, courageous
exploration of Philippine women's issues, and her compelling female protagonists, who
confront difficult situations at home and in the workplace with uncommon grit and strength.

2. BELINDA TY CASPER
Is a Filipino writer who has published over fifteen books, including the historical novel
DreamEden and the political novels Awaiting Trespass, Wings of Stone, A Small Party in a Garden,
and Fortress in the Plaza. She has also published three collections of short stories which present a
cross-section of Filipino society. In 1992, Tides and Near Occasions of Love won the Philippine PEN
short story prize; another at the UNESCO International Writers' Day, London; and the SEAWrite
Award in Bangkok "Triptych for a Ruined Altar" was in the Roll of Honor of The Best American Short
Stories, 1977.
Her novel Awaiting Trespass which is about the politically sensitive theme of torture
by the Marcos regime was published by Readers International of London. This work gained
her major critical attention in the United States for the first time, and in Britain the novel
was chosen as one of the five best works of fiction by a woman writer published in 1985-86
Born as Belinda Ty in Malabon, Philippines in 1931. She spent the World War II
years with her grandmother while her father worked in the Philippine National Railways, and
her mother in the Bureau of Public Schools. Her grandmother told her innumerable of
stories about the Filipino’s struggle for independence, that later became the topics of her
novels. Linda Ty Casper graduated valedictorian in the University of the Philippines, and later
earned her Master's degree in Harvard University for International Law. In 1956, she married
Leonard Casper, a professor emeritus of Boston College who is also a critic of Philippine
Literature. They have two daughters and reside in Massachusetts.

3. INGRID CHUA-GO
Is a Filipino- Chinese fashion and lifestyle blogger based in Manila, Philippines. She is
known for her fashion blog The Bag Hag Diaries and her society blog, Manila Social Diary.
She blogs for The Huffington Post-UK and writes columns for the both the Philippine Daily
Inquirer and Look Magazine. She has also contributed fashion week photographs for online
retailer Luisa via Roma and Harrods of London. She co-owns Accessory Lab, a jewelry store
specializing in crystals and semi-precious jewelry.
Ingrid Chua-Go is the daughter of Benjamin Chua, Jr. and Pacita Ong Chua. When she
was a child, her mother gave her a Tomy typewriter, which sparked her fascination with
writing. This interest was further stimulated by her father during the summers that they
would spend in San Francisco. He would assign her books to read over the vacation and
required her to write book reports on each one. This developed her writing proficiency at an
early age and she considers her father a great influence on her chosen profession.

4. GILDA CORDERO-FERNANDO
Is a multiawarded writer, publisher and cultural icon from the Philippines. She was born in
Manila, has a B.A. from St. Theresa's College-Manila, and an M.A. from the Ateneo de Manila
University.
Gilda Cordero-Fernando was born on June 4, 1932.
Cordero-Fernando has two landmark collection of short stories: The Butcher, The Baker and
The Candlestick Maker (1962) and A Wilderness of Sweets (1973). These books have been compiled
and reissued later as Story Collection (1994). Another book, Philippine Food and Life, was published
in 1992. Together with Alfredo Roces, Cordero-Fernando worked on Filipino Heritage, a 10-volume
study on Philippine history and culture published by Lahing Pilipino in 1978. Afterwards, she founded
GCF Books which published a dozen titles that deal with various aspects of Philippine culture and
society. Cordero-Fernando has also worn numerous other hats as a visual artist, fashion designer,

102
playwright, art curator and producer. In February 2000, she produced a hugely successful
extravaganza entitled Luna: An Aswang Romance…
5. JESSICA HAGEDORN
Jessica Tarahata Hagedorn (born 1949) is an American playwright, writer, poet, and
multimedia performance artist. Hagedorn was born in Manila to a Scots-Irish-French-Filipino mother
and a Filipino-Spanish father with one Chinese ancestor. Moving to San Francisco in 1963, Hagedorn
received her education at the American Conservatory Theater training program. To further pursue
playwriting and music, she moved to New York in 1978.
Joseph Papp produced her first play Mango Tango in 1978. Hagedorn's other
productions include Tenement Lover, Holy Food, and Teenytown. Her mixed media style
often incorporates song, poetry, images, and spoken dialogue.
In 1985, 1986, and 1988, she received MacDowell Colony fellowships, which helped enable
her to write the novel Dogeaters, which illuminates many different aspects of Filipino experience,
focusing on the influence of America through radio, television, and movie theaters. She shows the
complexities of the love-hate relationship many Filipinos in diaspora feel toward their past. After its
publication in 1990, her novel earned a 1990 National Book Award nomination and an American
Book Award. In 1998 La Jolla Playhouse produced a stage adaptation.
6. NICK JOAQUIN
Nicomedes Márquez Joaquín (May 4, 1917 – April 29, 2004) was a Filipino writer,
historian and journalist, best known for his short stories and novels in the English language.
He also wrote using the pen name Quijano de Manila. Joaquin was conferred the rank and
title of National Artist of the Philippines for Literature. He is considered one of the most
important Filipino writers in English, and the third most important overall, after José Rizal
and Claro M. Recto.
Joaquín was born in Paco, Manila, one of ten children of Leocadio Joaquín, a colonel
under General Emilio Aguinaldo in the 1896 Revolution, and Salome Márquez, a teacher of
English and Spanish. After being read poems and stories by his mother, the boy Joaquín read
widely in his father's library and at the National Library of the Philippines. By then, his father
had become a successful lawyer after the revolution. From reading, Joaquín became
interested in writing.
At age 17, Joaquín had his first piece published, in the literary section of the pre-World
War II Tribune, where he worked as a proofreader. It was accepted by the writer and editor
Serafín Lanot. After Joaquín won a nationwide essay competition to honor La Naval de
Manila, sponsored by the Dominican Order, the University of Santo Tomas awarded him an
honorary Associate in Arts (A.A.). They also awarded him a scholarship to St. Albert's
Convent, the Dominican monastery in Hong Kong.

7. ALEJANDRO REYES ROCES

(13 July 1924 – 23 May 2011) was a Filipino author, essayist, dramatist and a National Artist
of the Philippines for literature. He served as Secretary of Education from 1961 to 1965, during the
term of Philippine President Diosdado Macapagal.
Noted for his short stories, the Manila-born Roces was married to Irene Yorston Viola
(granddaughter of Maximo Viola), with whom he had a daughter, Elizabeth Roces-Pedrosa. Anding
attended elementary and high school at the Ateneo de Manila University, before moving to the
Arizona State University for his tertiary education. He graduated with a B.A. in Fine Arts and, not long
after, attained his M.A. from Far Eastern University back in the Philippines. He has since received
honorary doctorates from Tokyo University, Baguio's St. Louis University, Polytechnic University of
the Philippines, and the Ateneo de Manila University. Roces was a captain in the Marking’s Guerilla
during World War II and a columnist in Philippine dailies such as the Manila Chronicle and the Manila
Times. He was previously President of the Manila Bulletin and of the CAP College Foundation.
In 2001, Roces was appointed as Chairman of the Movie and Television Review and
Classification Board (MTRCB). Roces also became a member of the Board of Trustees of GSIS
(Government Service Insurance System) and maintained a column in the Philippine Star
called Roses and Thorns.
8. BIENVENIDO N. SANTOS
(1911–1996) was a Filipino-American fiction, poetry and nonfiction writer. He was
born and raised in Tondo, Manila. His family roots are originally from Lubao, Pampanga,
Philippines. He lived in the United States for many years where he is widely credited as a
pioneering Asian-American writer.
Santos received his Bachelor of Arts degree from the University of the Philippines
where he first studied creative writing under Paz Marquez Benitez. In 1941, Santos was a
government pensionado (scholar) to the United States at the University of Illinois, Columbia
University, and Harvard University. During World War II, he served with the Philippine

103
 government in exile under President Manuel L. Quezon in Washington, D.C., together with
the playwright Severino Montano and Philippine National Artist Jose Garcia Villa.
In 1967, he returned to the United States to become a teacher and university
administrator. He received a Rockefeller fellowship at the Writers Workshop of the
University of Iowa where he later taught as a Fulbright exchange professor. Santos has also
received a Guggenheim Foundation fellowship, a Republic Cultural Heritage Award in
Literature as well as several Palanca Awards for his short stories. Scent of Apples won a 1980
American Book Award from the Before Columbus Foundation.
Santos received an honorary doctorate degrees in humanities and letters from the
University of the Philippines, and Bicol University (Legazpi City, Albay) in 1981. He was also a
Professor of Creative Writing and Distinguished Writer in Residence at the Wichita State
University from 1973 to 1982, at which time the university awarded him an honorary
doctorate degree in humane letters. After his retirement, Santos became Visiting Writer and
Artist at De La Salle University in Manila; the university honored Santos by renaming its
creative writing center after him.
9. GÉMINO H. ABAD
The poet and literary critic Gémino H. Abad was born on February 5, 1939 in Sta.
Ana, Manila. At present, he is a University Professor Emeritus at the University of
ThePhilippines. His current writing and research include “Upon Our Own Ground”, a two-
volume historical anthology of short stories in English, 1956- 1972, with critical introduction;
“Our Scene So Fair”, a book of critical essays on the poetry in English since 1905 to the mid-
50s, and; “Where No Words break”, a volume of his own poems.
His parents are the noted novelist, playwright and essayist in Sugbuanon and Spanish,
Antonio M. Abad, who was at one time Chair of the Department of Spanish in UP, and Jesusa H.
Abad, professor of Spanish in UP. He is married to Mercedes A. Rivera, with whom he has five
children.
He graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in English, magna cum laude, from UP on 1963,
and has been teaching English literature and creative writing since then in the UP Department of
English and Comparative Literature, even after his retirement in 2004. He earned his Master’s degree
with honors, 1966, and Ph.D in English, at the University of Chicago under a Rockefeller Fellowship
Grant. In 1993, he was appointed University Professor in Literature, the highest academic rank at the
University of the Philippines.
In UP, he served as Secretary of the University and the Board of Regents from 1977- 1982; as
Vice- President for Academic Affairs, 1987- 1990, and; as Director of Likhaan: the UP Creative Writing
Center, 1995- 1998. He was the first holder of the Carlos P. Romulo Professional Chair in Literature
from 1982- 1983, and received the UP Outstanding Faculty Award for 1985- 1986. He was also holder
of the Irwin Chair for Literature at the Ateneo de Manila University, 1993. He received the
Chancellor’s Award as Best Office Administrator in 1998 for his management of the
UP Creative Writing Center as its Director.
He was a Fellow at the Cambridge Seminar, Trinity College, University of Cambridge, 1988; a
Fellow in the International Writers Program, University of Iowa, 1990; a Visiting Professor at the
Center for Philippine Studies, University of Hawai’i at Manoa, 1991; a Fellow at the Oxford
Conference on Teaching Literature Overseas, Corpus Christi College, 1995, and; Exchange Professor
in Literature at St. Norbert College Wisconsin, 1998, and at Singapore Management University, 2003;
represented the Philippines in the 3rd “Mediterranea International Festival of Literature and the
Arts” in Rome, July 2006.
Abad is also a member of the UP Writers Club and founding member of the Philippine
Literary Arts Council (PLAC), which puts out the Caracoa (since 1982)- the only poetry journal in
English in Asia. He has served as director and member of the teaching staff in numerous Writers
Workshops in UP, Siliman/ Dumaguete, MSU- IIT, and San Carlos University/ Cornelio Gaigao
Workshop. He is a judge in various literary contests such as the Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards,
Graphic, Free Press, NVM Gonzales Fiction Awards, and Maningning Miclat Literary Awards. He is a
speaker/ paper reader in various writers’ national conferences and various international conferences
of scholars.
He was a columnist in The Manila Chronicle, a weekly column called “Exchange”, with NVM
Gonzales, Sylvia Ventura and Luning Bonifacio Ira; The Evening Paper, a weekly column “Coming
through”, with NVM Gonzales and Cristina Pantoja Hidalgo; Musa: The Philippine Literature
Magazine, a monthly column called “Vates: Our Poets Speak”, and; Flip, a monthly column “Poet’s
Clearing”.
He is cited in The Oxford Companion to the English Language, 1992, as among “poets of
note”. He is also included in the Encyclopedia of Post- Colonial Literatures in English, ed. Eugene
Benson and L. W. Conolly (London: Routledge, 1994) and the CCP Encyclopedia of Philippine Art (IX:
Philippine Literature, 1994).

104
 His awards include the Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature: first prize for
poetry in English, 1976 (The Space Between); second prize, 1980 (Counterclockwise); first prize, 1983
(The Outer Clearing), The CCP Award for Poetry: second prize, 1973 (In Another Light), Manila Critics
Circle National Book Award for poetry, 1988 (Poems and Parables); for anthology, 1989 (Man of
Earth), 1993 (A Native Clearing), 1999 (A Habit of Shores); for personal anthology, 2002 (A Makeshift
Sun) and 2005 (In Ordinary Time), Asian Publishers Catholic Authors Award, 1990, Free press Literary
Awards: third prize for the short story (Tarang), 1993; first prize for the short story (Introibo), 1997;
first prize for the essay (A Day in One’s Life), 1997; second prize for the poem (A Description),
2000, Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas, 1996, for lifetime achievement in poetry and literary
criticism, UP Alumni Association Professional Award in Literature, 1997, Ellen F. Fajardo Foundation
grant for Excellence in teaching, 2000- 2001, Chancellor’s Award for Best Literary Work, 2002 (A
Makeshift Sun), and Patnubay ng Sining at Kalinangan sa Larangan ng Panitikan, Lungsod ng
Maynila, 2004.
Some of his poetry, fiction, critical essays and short stories are Fugitive Emphasis, State
of Play, Orion’s Belt and Other Writings, Father and Daughter, Getting Real: An Introduction to the
Practice of Poetry and who’s Afraid of Ching Dadufalza?
He edited books like The Likhaan, The Likhaan Book of Poetry and Fiction, An Edith Tempo
Reader, 100 Love Poems: Philippine Love Poetry in English since 1905, Father Poems, Honoring
Fathers: An International poetry Anthology, NCAA Ubod Project, The NVM Gonzales Awards Stories
and Supreme Court Decisions as Literature. His edited textbooks are The Likhaan Anthology of
Philippine Literature in English from 1900 to the Present, Frequently Asked Questions on Poetry, and
Our People’s Story: Philippine Literature in English.
His syllabi-textbooks include Philippine Literature in English: Poetry, Fiction, and Drama;
Greek and roman Literature, and; Introduction to the Writing of Poetry. His index is Index to Filipino
Poetry in English, 1905 to 1950. This year 2009, Gemino Abad won the Feronia Prize in Rome, Italy.

10. CARMEN ACOSTA

Carmen Acosta was born in Manila on February 1, 1904 and died on September 13, 1986.
She was the daughter of Godofredo B. Herrera, and Paterna Santos. Her father was a journalist and
served for a time as municipal president (or mayor in modern usage) of Caloocan during the
American colonial rule. She was a University of the Philippines Bachelor of Philosophy graduate and
taught at theTorres High School in Manila.
A trilingual writer (Filipino, Spanish and English), Acosta soon left the teaching
profession to become a full time journalist. She became editor of the Filipino weekly
magazine Sampaguita, where she also published her essays, short stories and novels. She
also wrote for other publications such as Liwayway magazine which honored her with a
Short Story Writer of the Year Award" in c. 1952 for her story "Kandidata." She contributed
essays in English to some Philippine magazines, writing about relevant national issues of the
day.
She became editor of Pagina Azul (Blue Page) the Spanish section of a Philippine magazine.
Here she published her short stories in Spanish. She was also a radio playwright and her plays were
aired over the government station DZFM, then managed by Francisco "Koko" Trinidad.
She first joined government service in the early 1940s working as a linguistic researcher at
the Institute if National Language (Surian ng Wikang Pambansa) then headed by the Father of
Tagalog Grammar, Lope K. Santos. She was the first Administrator of the government agency which
was later to be called the Philippine Housing Authority.
She later joined the Department of Labor in various supervisory capacities. She traveled
extensively across the United States of America, observing the labor conditions in that country. Later
she also traveled to France, Spain, Italy and Lebanon. In 1961 Herrera Acosta was appointed by
President Carlos P. Garcia as the first Director of the Bureau of Women and Minors, an agency of the
Department of Labor. As such, she helped in the formulation of labor laws to improve the working
conditions of female laborers.
A multi-awarded writer, Herrera Acosta's published books include "La Carta Redentora y
Otros Cuentos" (The Saving Letter and Other Stories) in Spanish; and in Filipino, "Kandidata at iba
pang mga Kuwento" (The Woman Candidate and other Stories); "Dangal ng Pangalan at Iba pang
Mga Dulang Panradyo" (An Honorable Reputation and other Radio Plays); "Bulaklak ng Pag-ibig at Iba
pang Mga Tula" (Flower of Love and other Poems); and "Kahapon at Ngayon" (Yesterday and Today),
a book of essays.
She married Florinio Robles Acosta, a certified public accountant in 1940, and had one child,
Carmencita H. Acosta who like her, became a journalist.

1. Bangkang Papel
http://markjan-markjan.blogspot.com/2009/03/bangkang-papel-ni-genoveva-edroza.html
105
 Bangkang Papel
Genoveva Edroza-Matute

Nagkatuwaan ang mga bata sa pagtatampisaw

sa baha. Ito ang pinakahihintay nilang araw mula nang
magkasunud-sunod ang pag-ulan. Alam nilang kapag
iyo’y nagpatuloy sa loob ng tatlong araw ang
lansangang patungo sa laruan ay lulubog. At ngayon, ay
ikalimang araw nang walang tigil ang pag-ulan.
Ilang maliliit na bata ang magpapalutang ng
mga bangkal papel, nariyang tinatangay ng tubig,
naroong sinasalpok at inilulubog, nariyang winawasak.
Sa tuwi akong makakikita ng bangkang papel ay nagbabalik sa aking gunita ang isang batang
lalaki. Isang batang lalaking gumawa ng tatlong malalaking bangkang papel na hindi niya
napalutang sa tubig kailanman...
Isang batang lalaking nagising sa isang gabi, sa mag dagundong na nakagugulat.
Sa loob ng ilang saglit, ang akala niya’y Bagong Taon noon. Gayon ding malalakas na
ugong ang natatandaan niyang sumasalubong sa Bagong Taon. Ngunit pagkalipas ng ilan
pang saglit, nagunita niyang noon ay wala nang ingay na pumapatak mula sa kanilang
bubungan.
Sa karimla’t pinalaki niya ang dalawang mata, wala siyang makitang ano man
maliban sa isang makitid na silahis. Hindi niya malaman kung alin ang dagundong ng biglang
pumuno sa bahay ang biglang pagliliwanag. Gulilat siyang nagbalikwas at hinanap nang
paningin ang kanyang ina.
Nagsunud-sunod ang tila malalaking batong gumugulong sa kanilang bubungan. Ang
paggulong ng mga iyo’y sinasaliwan ng pagliliwanag at pagdidilim ng bahay, ng pagliliwanag
na muli. Samantala’y patuloy ang pagbuhos ng ulan sa kanilang bubungan, sa kanilang
paligid, sa lahat ng dako.
Muling nahiga ang nagbalikwas at ang tinig niya ay pinatalagos sa karimlan.

“Inay, umuulan, ano?”

“Oo, anak, kangina,” anang tinig mula sa dulo ng hihigan.
“Inay,” ang ulit niya sa karimlan, “dumating na ba ang Tatay?”
Sumagot ang tinig ngunit hindi niya maunawaan. Kaya’t itinaas niya nang bahagay
ang likod at humilig sa kaliwang bisig. Sa kanyang tabi ay naroon ang kapatid na si Miling. Sa
tabi nito’y nabanaagan niya ang katawan ng ina, at sa kabila naman nito’y nakita niya ang
banig na walang tao.
Ibinaba niya ang likod at iniunat ang kaliwang bisig. Naramdaman niya ang sigis ng
lamig ng kanyang buto. Mula sa nababalot na katawan ni milng ay hinila niya ang kumot at
ito’y itinakip sa sariling katawan. Bahagyang gumalaw ang kapatid, pagkatapos ay
nagpatuloy sa hindi pagkilos. Naaawa siya kay Miling kaya’t ang kalahati ng kumot ay
ibinalot sa katawan niyon at siya’y namaluktot sa nalabing kalahati.
Naramdaman niya ang panunuot ng lamig sa kanyang likod. Inilabas niya ang kanag
kamay sa kumot at kinapa ang banig hanggang sa maabot niya ang sahig.
Anong lamig sa sahig, ang naisip niya, at ang kanang kamay ay dali-daling ipinasok
muli sa kumot.
“Inay,” ang tawag niyang muli, “bakit wala pa si Tatay? Anong oras na ba?”
“Ewan ko,” ang sagot ng kanyang ina. “Matulog ka na, anak, at bukas ay
magpapalutang ka ng mga bangkang ginawa mo.”
Natuwa ang bata sa kanyang narinig.
Magkakarerahan kami ng bangka ni Miling, ang aki’y malalaki’t matitibay...hindi
masisira ng tubig.
Dali-dali siyang nagbangon at pakapa-kapang sumiksik sa pagitan ng kapatid at ng
kanyang kausap. Idinaan niya ang kanyang kamay sa pagitan ng baywang at bisig ng ina.
Naramdaman niya ang bahagyang pag-aangay ng kaliwang bisig niyon. Ang kanang kamay
noo’y ipinatong sa kanyang ulo at pabulong na nagsalita:
“Siya, matulog ka na.”
Ngunit ang bata’y hindi natulog. Mula sa malayo’y naririnig niya ang hagibis ng
malakas na hangin. At ang ulang tangay-tangay noon.
“Marahil ay hindi na uuwi ang Tatay ngayong gabi,” ang kanyang nasabi. Naalala
niyang may mga gabing hindi umuuwi ang kanyang ama.

106
 “Saan natutulog ang Tatay kung hindi siya umuuwi rito?” ang tanong niya sa
kanyang ina. Ngunit ito’y hindi sumagot.
Sinipat niya ang mukha upang alamin kung nakapikit na ang kanyang ina. Ngunit sa
karimlan ay hindi niya makita.
Bago siya tuluyang nakalimot, ang kahuli-hulihang larawan sa kanyang balintataw ay
ito. Tatlong malalaking bangkang yari sa papel na inaanod ng baha sa kanilang tapat...
At samantalang pumapailanlang sa kaitaasan ang kahuli-hulihang pangrap ng batang
yaon, ang panahon ay patuloy sa pagmamasungit. Ang munting bahay na pawid ay patuloy
sa pagliliwanag at pagdidilim, sa pananahimik at pag-uumugong, sa pagbabata ng walang
awing hampas ng hangin at ulan...
Ang kinabukasan ng pagtatampisaw at pagpapaanod ng mga bangkang papel ay
dumating... Ngunit kakaibang kinabukasan.
Pagdilat ng inaantok pang batang lalaki ay nakita niyang nag-iisa siya sa hihigan.
Naroon ang kumot at unan ni Miling at ng kanyang ina.
Pupungas siyang bumangon.
Isang kamay ang dumantay sa kanyang balikat at nang magtaas ng paningin ay
nakitang yao’y si Aling Berta, ang kanilang kapitbahay.
Hindi niya maunawaan ang tingin noong tila naaawa.
Biglang-biglang naparam ang nalalabi pang antok. Gising na gising ang kanyang
ulirat.
Naroon ang asawa ni Aling Berta, gayon din sina Mang Pedring, si Alng Ading, si Feli,
at si Turing, si Pepe. Nakita niyang ang kanilang bahay ay halos mapuno ng tao.
Nahihintakutang mga batang humanap kay Miling at sa ina. Sa isang sulok, doon
nakita ng batang lalaki ang kanyang ina na nakalikmo sa sahig. Sa kanyang kandungan ay
nakasubsob si Miling. At ang buhok nito ay walang tigil na hinahaplus-haplos ng kanyang ina.
Ang mukha ng kanyang ina ay nakita ng batang higit na pumuti kaysa rati. Ngunit
ang mga mata noo’y hindi pumupikit, nakatingin sa wala

Patakbo siyang lumapit sa ina at sunud-sunod ang kanyang pagtatanong. “Bakit,

Inay, ano ang nangyari? Ano ang nangyari, Inay? Bakit maraming tao rito?
Ngunit tila hindi siya narinig ng kausap. Ang mga mata noo’y patuloy sa hindi
pagsikap. Ang kamay noo’y patuloy sa paghaplos sa buhok ni Miling.
Nagugulumihang lumapit ang bata kina Mang Pedring at Aling Feli. Ang pag-uusap
nila’y biglang natigil nang siya’y makita.
Wala siyang narinig kundi... “Labinlimang lahat ang nangapatay...”
Hindi niya maunawaan ang ang lahat. Ang pagdami ng tao sa kanilang bahay. Ang
anasan. Ang ayos ng kanyang ina. Ang pag-iyak ni Aling Feli nang siya ay makita.
Sa pagitan ng mga hikbi, siya’y patuloy sa pagtatanong...
“Bakit po? Ano po iyon?”
Walang sumasagot sa kanya. Lahat ng lapitan niya’y nanatiling pinid ang labi.
Ipinatong ang kamay sa kanyang balikat o kaya’y hinahaplos ang kanyang buhok at wala na.
Hindi niya matandaan kung gaano katagal bago may nagdatingan pang mga tao.
“Handa na ba kaya?” anang isang malakas ang tinig. “Ngayon din ay magsialis na
kayo. Kayo’y ihahatid ni Kapitan Sidro sa pook na ligtas. Walang maiiwan, isa man. Bago
lumubog ang araw sila’y papasok dito... Kaya’t walang maaaring maiwan.”
Matagal bago naunawaan ng bata kung ano ang nagyari.
Sila’y palabas na sa bayan, silang mag-iiba, ang lahat ng kanilang kapitbahay, ang
maraming-maraming tao, at ang kani-kanilang balutan.
Sa paulit-ulit na salitaan, sa sali-salimbayang pag-uusap ay nabatid niya ang ilang
bagay.
Sa labinlimang nangapatay kagabi ay kabilang ang kanyang ama...sa labas ng
bayan...sa sagupaan ng mga kawal at taong-bayan.
Nag-aalinlangan, ang batang lalaki’y lumapit sa kanyang ina na mabibigat ang mga
paa sa paghakbang. “Inay, bakit pinatay ng mga kawal ang Tatay? Bakit? Bakit?”
Ang mga bata noong nakatingin sa matigas na lupa ay isang saglit na lumapit sa
kanyang mukha. Pagkatapos, sa isang tinig na marahang-marahan ay nagsalita.
“Iyon din ang nais kong malaman, anakm iyon din ang nais kong malaman.”
Samantala...
Sa bawat hakbang na palayo sa bahay na pawid at sa munting bukid na kanyang
tahanan ay nararagdagan ang agwat ng ulila sa kanyang kabataan.
Ang gabing yaon ng mga dagundong at sigwa, ng mga pangarap na kinabukasan at
ng mga bangkang papel – ang gabing yaon ang kahuli-hulihan sa kabataang sasansaglit

107
 lamang tumagal. Ang araw na humalili’y tigib ng pangamba at ng mga katanungang
inihahanap ng tugon.
Kaya nga ba’t sa tuwi akong makakikita ng bangkang papel ay nagbabalik sa aking
gunita ang isang batang lalaki. Isang batang lalaking gumawa ng tatlong malalaking
bangkang papel na hindi niya napalutang kailanman...

Task/Activity
*** Short Answer Rubric
Answer the following questions: CRITERIA Percentag
1. Who are the characters in the story? e
2. What is the theme of this story? Correct Answer with 50%
3. What is the conflict in the story? Supporting Details
4. What is the moral lesson?
Grammar & 50%
Mechanics
2. The Mats
100%
http://werejustkids.blogspot.com/2006/03/ mats-by-
francisco-arcellana-for-my.html

The Mats
by FRANCISCO ARCELLANA

For my family, Papa’s homecoming from his many inspection trips around the
Philippines was always an occasion to remember. But there was one homecoming - from a
trip to the south – that turned out to be more memorable than any of the others.
Papa was an engineer. He inspected new telegraph lines for the government. He
had written from Lopez, Tayabas:
I have just met a marvelous matweaver – a real artist – and I shall have a surprise
for you. I asked him to weave a sleeping mat for every one of the family. I can hardly wait to
show them to you…
After a few days Papa wrote again:
I am taking the Bicol Express tomorrow. I have the mats with me, and they are
beautiful. I hope to be home to join you for dinner.
Mama read Papa’s letter aloud during the noon meal. Talk about the mats flared up
like wildfire.
“I like the feel of mats,” said my brother Antonio. “I like the smell of new mats.”
“Oh, but these mats are different,” said Susanna, my younger sister. “They have our
names woven into them. There is a different color for each of us.”
A mat was not something new to us. There was already one such mat in the house.
It was one we seldom use, a mat older than any of us.
This mat had been given to Mama by her mother when Mama and Papa were
married. It had been with them ever since. It was used on their wedding night and
afterwards only on special occasions. It was a very beautiful mat. It had green leaf borders
and gigantic red roses woven onto it. In the middle it said:
Emilia y Jaime
Recuerdo
The mat did not ever seem to grow old. To Mama it was always as new as it had
been on her wedding night. The folds and creases always looked new and fresh. The smell
was always the smell of a new mat. Watching it was an endless joy.
Mama always kept that mat in her trunk. When any of us got sick, the mat was
brought out and the sick child made to sleep on it. Every one of us had at some time in our
life slept on it. There had been sickness in our family. And there had been deaths….
That evening Papa arrived. He had brought home a lot of fruit from the fruit-
growing provinces he had passed in his travels. We sampled pineapple, lanzones, chico, atis,
santol, watermelon, guayabano, and avocado. He had also brought home a jar of preserved
sweets.
Dinner seemed to last forever. Although we tried not to show it, we could hardly
wait to see the mats.
Finally, after a long time over his cigar, Papa rose from his chair and crossed the
room. He went to the corner where his luggage was piled. From the heap he pulled out a
large bundle. Taking it under his arm, he walked to the middle of the room where the light
was brightest. He dropped the bundle to the floor. Bending over and balancing himself on
his toes, he pulled at the cord that bound it. It was strong. It would not break. It would not
give way. Finally,

108
 Alfonso, my youngest brother, appeared at Papa’s side with a pair of scissors.
Papa took the scissors. One swift movement, snip!, and the bundle was loose!
Papa turned to Mama and smiled. “These are the mats, Miling,” he said.
He picked up the topmost mat in the bundle.
“This is yours, Miling.” Mama stepped forward to the light, wiping her still moist
hands against the folds of her apron. Shyly, she unfolded the mat without a word.
We all gathered around the spread mat.
It was a beautiful mat. There was a name in the very center of it: Emilia. Interwoven
into the large, green letters where flowers – cadena de amor.
“It’s beautiful, Jaime.” Mama whispered, and she could not say any more.
“And this, I know, is my own,” said Papa of the next mat in the bundle. His mat was
simple and the only colors on it were purple and cold.
“And this, for you, Marcelina.”
I had always thought my name was too long. Now I was glad to see that my whole
name was spelled out on the mat, even if the letters were small. Beneath my name was a
lyre, done in three colors. Papa knew I loved music and played the piano. I was delighted
with my new mat.
“And this is for you, Jose.” Jose is my oldest brother. He wanted to become a
doctor.
“This is yours, Antonio.”
“And this, yours, Juan.”
“And this is yours, Jesus.”
One by one my brothers and sisters stepped forward to receive their mats. Mat
after mat was unfolded. On each mat was a symbol that meant something special to each of
us.
At last everyone was shown their mats. The air was filled with excited talk.
“You are not to use the mats until you go the university,” Papa said.
“But, Jaime,” Mama said, wonderingly, “there are some more mats left in the
bundle.”
“Yes there are three more mats to unfold. They are for the others who are not
here…” Papa’s voice grew soft and his eyes looked far away.
“I said I would bring home a sleeping mat for every one of the family. And so I did,”
Papa said. Then his eyes fell on each of us. “Do you think I’d forgotten them? Do you think I
had forgotten them? Do you think I could forget them?
“This is for you, Josefina!
“And this, for you, Victoria!
“And this, for you, Concepcion!”
Papa’s face was filled with a long-bewildered sorrow.
Then I understood. The mats were for my three sisters, who died when they were
still very young.
After a long while, Papa broke the silence. “We must not ever forget them,” he said
softly. “They may be dead but they are never really gone. They are here, among us, always in
our hearts.”
The remaining mats were unfolded in silence. The colors were not bright but dull. I
remember that the names of the dead among us did not glow o shine as did the other living
names.

Task/Activity
Make a reflection paper about this story, look for the theme and the moral lesson and
insert it in your reflection paper.

ASSESSMENT
INFORMAL ESSAY RUBRICS:
CRITERIA Percentag
From the stories that you have
e
read, pick one story. Create your own 109 Quality of Writing
ending to make the story different from the 50%
original version. Give your own moral Grammar, Usage & 50%
lesson of the story. Link your own story to Mechanics
present-day issues. In the end, make a 100%
 REFERENCES

BOOKS
Abelos, Alex V. et al. (2007) Philippine Literature: Rediscovering our Regional Heritage ( A Workbook in
Literature) Mutya Publishing House, Inc.

Kahayon , Alicia H. et. al. (2009) Philippine Literature: Choice Selection from A Historical Perspective.
National Bookstore.

Kahayon, Alicia H. and Cecilia A. Zuleuta et. al. (2010) Philippine Literature Through the Years. National
Bookstore.

THESES/DISSERTATION

Joaquin, J. (2013). Workbook in Philippine Literature. Occidental Mindoro State College. San Jose, Occ.
Mindoro.

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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mimaropa
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https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soccsksargen
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RUBRICS:

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