tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28455069390493890062024-03-19T05:30:03.729-07:00♥♥Philippine Classical Literature♥♥This blog focuses on Philippine Literature. The people of Manila and native groups within the Philippines used to write on bamboo and the arecaceae palm. They used knives for inscribing the ancient Tagalog script.tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-24384576233798707802011-03-23T06:04:00.001-07:002011-03-25T21:49:02.786-07:00MODULE 7: REGION 3<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><tbody>
<tr> <td height="2" width="100%">Module 7: The Beautiful Horse</td><td height="2" width="100%"><br />
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<tr> <td height="10" width="100%">Reported by: Cielo Jane Miake</td><td height="10" width="100%"><br />
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<tr> <td height="10" width="100%">Sources: http://archives.manilatimes.net <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and Philippine Literature of Development of Communication Arts and Humanities College of Arts and Sciences Southwestern University</span></td> </tr>
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<tr> <td height="10" style="text-align: center;" width="100%"><div class="mainhead"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The beautiful horse</span></b></div></td> </tr>
<tr> <td height="10" width="100%"><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;">By D. Paulo Dizon<o:p> </o:p> </div><div class="bodytext"></div><div style="text-align: justify;">ONE day my father brought home a beautiful horse. She was the most beautiful white horse anyone in our barrio of Pulong-Masle had ever laid eyes on. She had long and slender legs, a silky mane, and a flowing tail. She was, however, not the kind of horse anyone in our barrio would have any use for. She did not seem fit for pulling a rig. She was good only for the track, or for riding but races were held only during the town funeral, and even the rich bachelors in town did not ride horses anymore. They preferred the bicycle. What good was such a beautiful white horse in Pulong-Masle?<o:p> </o:p> </div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">My father did not exactly bring the beautiful white horse home. She followed him. When my father would stop to pull a thorn out of his foot or to scratch a bite on his leg, the horse would stop, too, and swish her tail from side to side. When my father continued on his way, the horse too would come along. She had a grand way of walking, proud and confident.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Why, Estong,” the people at the roadside or in the windows would say, “how did you come by such a beautiful horse?” But my father only smiled and stared straight ahead; he was as proud as the horse that was following him. He did not even notice my sister Victa and me. Victa and I walked behind among the other children.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">The people we passed also wondered how my father had come by such a beautiful horse. He couldn’t have bought her because he did not have that much money; everybody knew he earned no more that what was needed, and sometimes less.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">I overheard some of the people say that my father might have stolen the horse, and I felt angry with my father and with the people and at the horse, and I knew my sister Victa also felt the same way. When I looked at her, I saw tears in her eyes.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Father was suddenly a stranger to us. He did not seem to be our father at all, and for the moment we hated him. In the past when we met him on the road on his way home, he would hug us or lift Victa or me way up in the air. We used to be very happy when Father came home.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">When we reached home, Father led the horse straight through the yard into the field. He sat down on a fallen bamboo and watched the horse beginning to graze. So absorbed was he in the sight of the beautiful horse, he didn’t notice Victa and me sitting beside him. For a long time we sat there watching the horse cropping the wild grass. We did not say anything to one another. It was getting dark.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“What a beauty!” Father said, sighing dreamily and gazing at the horse. “What beautiful legs!”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“They are not beautiful,” Victa said, curling her lower lip. “They are thin and weak.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">That was when Father perhaps first took notice of our presence. He turned his face toward Victa and all of a sudden there was anger in his dark eyes.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Don’t say that,” Father said. “You know they are not thin and weak. They are slender and beautiful, are they not? Yes, they are. She is a beautiful horse.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Doesn’t she belong to us, Father?” I asked.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“She is such a beauty,” Father sighed again, staring admiringly at the horse. She kept on swishing her tail, which was long and flowing and silky, as if she were enjoying herself immensely.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">I was beginning to suspect the people were right after all. I trembled at the thought of my father stealing a horse. He used to tell us how good it was to be honest and truthful and obedient, and now, I thought, he wasn’t any of those things he had told us to be.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Presently I heard my mother calling Victa and me, and then the chapel bells rang out the Angelus.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Come up now, Victa, Marcos,” Mother shouted from the window.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Victa crossed the yard and climbed up the stairs. I sat, silent, beside Father, who seemed to be immersed in thought. Then, suddenly, my mother was with us.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Where did you get that horse, Estong?” she asked.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Father asked, as though he were talking to nobody in particular. He didn’t even bother to turn his eyes away from the horse.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Whose horse is that?” Mother asked again.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Without turning his face, father said, unconcerned, “I don’t know.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“How come she is here in our own backyard?” Mother asked.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“She’s a beautiful horse,” Father said.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Father did not make the slightest move. He sat silent, his chin cupped in the hollow of his hand, his elbows resting on his thighs. He continued staring dreamily at the horse.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Let us go in now,” Mother said. “Supper is ready.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Father did not make the slightest move. He sat silent, his chin cupped in the hollow of his hand, his elbows resting on his thighs. He continued staring dreamily at the horse.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Let us go, Marcos,” Mother said, pulling me along.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">We ate silently, for Mother was angry. We, Victa and I, knew better than to talk when Mother was in that mood. Finally she started mumbling, at first to herself, and then to us. <o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“I wonder where he got that horse,” she said.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Ask him, Mother,” Victa said.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“The people on the road said he might have stolen it,” I put in.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Just who was it who said that?” Mother asked, suddenly florid with anger. “Tell me, who was it who said that?”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“I do not know,” I said. “I just heard some people say it.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Let us go right now. Point them out to me and I will show them how to judge your father better. Let us go, Marcos. Right now. Come.” She took me by the arm, tugging me toward the stairs.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">But just as we were to leave the house, we met father coming up.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“You and your beautiful white horse, with her long, slender legs!” Mother cried at Father.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Now don’t say anything harsh against that horse, woman,” Father said. “Don’t say bad words about your cousin Barang.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Why, what has my dead cousin to do with that beast, Estong? Don’t you start invoking the dead, you . . . you . . . impious . . . .”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“That horse is the reincarnation of your cousin Barang,” Father declared solemnly. Father was a good jester, he loved to laugh, but this time he was dead serious, and his voice sounded sincere and stern.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Mother crossed herself three times, her eyes almost popping out. “What is the matter with you, Estong?”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“I knew it the first time I saw her, that horse,” Father said, walking past us, and then seating himself at the table. “The first time I saw her following me I knew she was somebody I used to know. Only, I couldn’t remember who. Now look at the eyes. Just look at those eyes tomorrow when the sun comes up. They are the eyes of your cousin Barang.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Mother crossed herself again. “May she rest in peace,” she prayed, clasping her hands across her breast. “Please, Lord, forgive my erring husband. And may the soul of cousin Barang forgive these utterances!”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Father continued. “When I turned around and saw the horse’s face, I asked myself, ‘Where did I see this face before?’ It was very familiar. And then in the backyard while she was feeding, she wiggled her rump, and I remembered the way Barang used to wiggle her buttocks when she was feeling funny.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Ohhh! . . .” Mother cried. “Heaven forgive him, for he does not know what he is saying. He is touched in the head, my husband. Ohhh . . . What have we done to deserve this?”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“She is such a very beautiful horse, your cousin Barang is,” Father sighed.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Where did you get that horse, Estong?” Mother wanted to know. “Tell me!” she pleaded. “How is it she is here in our own yard?”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“She followed me, don’t know from where. But she just followed me. I told her to go her way but she followed me just the same,” Father said.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“You did not sell this house and buy yourself that horse, Estong? Please tell us the truth.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“I told you that she is your cousin Barang come to visit you,” Father said. “Now please let us eat. I am hungry.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">The next morning Victa woke me. She was very excited. “Come quick,” she said. “Quick!”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“What happened?” I asked.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Look at our aunt Barang,” she said. “She is still there.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Where?”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“In the backyard. Under the tamarind tree.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">I remembered what my father had said about the souls of the dead coming back to life in another form. Father had been very fond of Aunt Barang. Many times he and my mother had quarreled on her account. My mother did not like Aunt Barang very much, and when she died she cried only during the funeral, but one could see how relieved she was afterward. And now here she was again. Only, she was in the form of a beautiful white horse, come back to life to torment my mother again. Why can’t the dead stay dead? I asked myself.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Come, quick, Marcos,” Victa shouted. She had gone down the stairs again, so excited was she. “Look at the eyes. They are the eyes of our aunt Barang.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">Mother was in the kitchen, silently doing her chores. She was beginning to take it all with resignation. Poor old Mother. She must have felt very miserable.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">I went downstairs into the yard and joined my sister. Father was sitting there on the fallen bamboo, watching the reincarnation of our aunt Barang feed on the grass, swishing her long tail from side to side.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Look at her eyes,” Victa said to me.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">True enough, they were the eyes of our Aunt Barang. Indeed, she couldn’t have been other than our Aunt Barang.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">The men came to take Aunt Barang sometime before noon that day. They were a couple of strange-looking men in city clothes, a constabulary man, and some men from the barrio. One of the strange-looking men was short and had a mustache and long hair. The other was tall and carried a walking stick with a copper knob. The constabulary man said they were the owners of the circus which had been set up in the town.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">When they saw the horse browsing peacefully on the sward beyond our back yard, the circus men rushed to her, stumbling over the bamboo trunk on which my father was sitting. They hugged the horse and kissed her on the face as if she were their sister.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Oh, my Minda Mora, my beautiful Minda Mora,” the taller of the two strange-looking men said. “I missed you terribly. Terribly so. Oh, my beautiful Minda Mora.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">My father stood up. So bewildered was he by all this show of affection he could not utter a word.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">The shorter one with the mustache and the funny nest of long hair was talking to the constabulary man. He was also very excited and very happy. Then the tall man took something out of his trousers pocket and handed it to my Father. A couple of silver coins.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“Thank you very much for keeping our dear Minda in your yard,” the short funny man said to my father. “We hope she did not give you too much trouble. Come to the circus in the town tonight, and don’t forget to bring the children along. It is the best show there is. And thanks again.”<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">For a long time after they left, we stood in the yard silently, sadly.<o:p> </o:p> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;">“I did not know Barang would turn out to be a circus lady,” Father said.<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span></b></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;">D. Paulo Dizon was born in Santa Rita, Pampanga in 1915. His teachers, parents, and he himself decided that he was 'hopeless case" as far as schooling was concerned. He could not make the grade in biology, history, algebra, and English composition. He worked as a carpenter's apprentice, amateur plumber, newsboy, busboy, dishwasher, waiter, pharmacy clerk, and short story writer. After the war he worked on the editorial staff of the Sunday Times Magazine. He then joined the Sunday Post Magazine. He was a writer in the public relations department of the Philippine National Red Cross before he became news editor of the United Sates Information Service in Manila. Dizon then traveled widely in America and Europe. His stories reveal originality, humor, and realism.</span></span></span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</b></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> <span style="font-size: small;">1. What is the purpose of the opening paragraph?</span></span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 2. Describe the horse. What is good for?</span></span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 3. Why was father suddenly a stranger to the children?</span></span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 4. How is the wife's attitude toward her husband revealed?</span></span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 5. What does father think of the horse?Who does it remind him of? Why? </span> </span></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"></div><div class="bodytext" style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</tbody></table>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-10711212994313422622011-03-23T05:52:00.000-07:002011-03-25T21:49:58.458-07:00MODULE 5: CAR<div style="text-align: justify;"></div><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Module 5:Wedding Dance</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Sources:</span> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">http://www.seasite.niu.edu </span><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">and Philippine Literature of Development of Communication Arts and Humanities College of Arts and Sciences Southwestern University</span></div></span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Wedding Dance</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">By Amador Daguio</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><img class="rg_hi" data-height="187" data-width="270" height="187" id="rg_hi" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTVbQIgm8Pp9LrobWSQ_5FlB1SWy_q_lROEVxoj3pIGAqMS46CIDg" style="height: 187px; width: 270px;" width="270" /><img class="rg_hi" data-height="237" data-width="139" height="237" id="rg_hi" src="http://t2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRQaX_Kb6Blw44q0WhQrzo_7gnmWig415xkj8q1j0F4J5cBAqTuIg" style="height: 237px; width: 139px;" width="139" /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the headhigh threshold. Clinging to the log, he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow door. He slid back the cover, stepped inside, then pushed the cover back in place. After some moments during which he seemed to wait, he talked to the listening darkness.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I'm sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry. But neither of us can help it."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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<br />
upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her sullenness was not because of anger or hate.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't want any other man."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">She did not answer him.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You know it Lumnay, don't you?" he repeated.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Yes, I know," she said weakly.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"It is not my fault," he said, feeling relieved. "You cannot blame me; I have been a good husband to you."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Neither can you blame me," she said. She seemed about to cry.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">This time the woman stirred, stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the blanket more snugly around herself.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You know that I have done my best," she said. "I have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have sacrificed many chickens in my prayers."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Yes, I know."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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?"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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<br />
whole village."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"That has not done me any good, has it?" She said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost seemed to smile.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I have no use for any field," she said.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I would feel better if you could come, and dance---for the last time. The gangsas are playing."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"You know that I cannot."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Lumnay," he said tenderly. "Lumnay, if I did this it is because of my need for a child. You know that life is not worth living without a child. The man have mocked me behind my back. You know that."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, and sobbed.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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,<br />
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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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<br />
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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Then you'll always be fruitless."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I'll go back to my father, I'll die."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">She was silent.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and faraway.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me keep my beads," she half-whispered.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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!"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I am not in hurry."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"The elders will scold you. You had better go."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Not until you tell me that it is all right with you."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"It is all right with me."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the tribe," he said.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"I know," she said.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">He went to the door.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Awiyao!"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she closed her eyes and huried her face in his neck.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried out into the night.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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<br />
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<br />
husband a child.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not right," she said.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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<br />
river?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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? <br />
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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">When Lumnay reached the clearing, she cold see from where she stood the blazing bonfire at the edge of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-off clamor of the gongs, still rich in their sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they seemed to call far to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their gratitude for her<br />
sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lumnay though of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy carrying his heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. She had met him one day as she was on her way to fill her clay jars with water. He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest; and she had made him drink the cool mountain water from her coconut shell. After that it did not take him long to decide to throw his spear on the stairs of her father's house in token on his desire to marry her.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Amador T. Daguio was born 1912 in Laog, Ilocos Norte and lived in the mountain province which became the setting for most of his stories. He studied at University of the Philippines and won various prizes in college and in national magazines for his fiction and poetry. He took up a graduate course at Stanford University, specializing in creative writing. For his master's thesis, he translated a Kalinga epic, the Hudhud and Aliguyon. He has published two volumes of poetry "Bataan Harvest" and "The Flaming Lyre."His poems have been included in many anthologies. He taught English at the University of the East. "Wedding Dance" is a sensitively written story bringing out the tragedy inherent in native traditions.</span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;">1. Why does Awiyao consider Lumnay the best woman in the village?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">2. How does Ifugao man express his intention to marry a woman/</div><div style="text-align: justify;">3. Why must Awiyao have to have a child?</div><div style="text-align: justify;">4. Is Awiyao relly in love with Madulimay? Support your answer.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">5. If you were to end the story, how would you end it?</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-8977825835215440412011-03-15T20:24:00.000-07:002011-03-24T08:15:46.835-07:00MODULE 2: FILIPINO RIDDLES<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Module 2:Filipino Riddles</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sources:http://hubpages.com</span><br />
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<h2 class="subtitle" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Bugtungan Tayo! </span></h2></div></div><ol><li><h4>Nagtago si Pedro, labas ang ulo. (<i>Pedro hides but you can still see his head. )</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Hindi pari, hindi hari, nagdadamit ng sari-sari. <i>(Not a priest, not a king but wears different kinds of clothes.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Bugtong-pala-bugtong, kadenang umuugong. <i>(Riddle me, riddle me, here comes a roaring chain). </i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Heto na si Kaka, bubuka-bukaka. <i>(Here comes Kaka, walking with an open leg.) </i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Buhok ni Adan, hindi mabilang. <i>(Adam's hair, you can't count.) </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Bibingka ng hari, hindi mo mahati. <i>(Rice cake of the king, that you cannot divide.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Sa araw ay bungbong, sa gabi ay dahon. <i>(Roll in the morning, leaf in the afternoon). </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Iisa ang pasukan, tatlo ang labasan. <i>(It has one entrance, but has three exit. )</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Malaking supot ni Mang Jacob, kung sisidlan ay pataob. (Big Square <i>Bag of Mr Jacob, to use it, you have to turn it upside down) </i></h4></li>
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<li><h4>Hayan na, hayan na di mo pa makita. <i>(It's here, its here, but you can not see)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Baka ko sa Maynila, hanggang dito, dinig ang unga. <i>(My cow in Manila, you can hear his moo).</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Nagdaan si Kabo Negro, namatay na lahat ang tao. (<i>General Negro pass by and eveybody die</i>.)</h4></li>
<li><h4>Ako ay may kaibigan, kasama ko kahit saan. <i>(I have a friend and he is with me everywhere I go).</i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<h4></h4></li>
<li><h4>Ang alaga kong hugis bilog, barya-barya ang laman-loob. ( <i>I have a pet, his body is full of coins</i>). </h4></li>
<li><h4>Sa liwanag ay hindi mo makita. Sa dilim ay maliwanag sila. (<i>I can't see it in the light but I can see it in the dark</i>.)</h4></li>
<li><h4>Palda ni Santa Maria. Ang kulay ay iba-iba. (Maria's skirt, in different colours.)</h4></li>
<li><h4>Kaisa-isang plato, kita sa buong Mundo. (<i> One plate, can be seen around the world).</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Nagsaing si Hudas, kinuha ang tubig itinapon ang bigas. (<i>Judas cooked the rice, he took the water and throw the rice.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Bahay ni Tinyente nag-iisa ang poste. <i>(House of the Lieutenant,with only one post.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>May isang prinsesa, nakaupo sa tasa. <i>(A princess sitting in a cup)</i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Ate mo, ate ko, Ate ng lahat ng tao. <i>(My sister, your sister, everyone's sister) </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Hiyas na puso, kulay ginto, mabango kung amuyin, masarap kung kainin. <i>(Shape like a heart, gold in color, sweet to smell and good to eat</i>.)</h4></li>
<li><h4>Butong binalot ng bakal, bakal na binalot ng kristal. (Seed that is wrap in steel, steel that is wrap in crystal). </h4></li>
<li><h4>Nag tapis nang nag tapis nakalitaw ang bulbolis. <i>(She wears a skirt, but you can still what is inside). </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Aling pagkain sa mundo, ang nakalabas ang buto? <i>(What fruit in the world that the seed is out?)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Heto na si Ingkong, nakaupo sa lusong. <i>(Here comes Ingkong, sitting in a fish catcher.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Nakatalikod na ang prinsesa, mukha niya'y nakaharap pa. (<i>The princess is on her back, but her head is still facing us) </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Balat niya'y berde, buto niya'y itim,laman niya'y pula, sino siya? (<i>Her skin is green, her seed is black, her tissue is red, who is she</i>?)</h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Kung tawagin nila'y santo, hindi naman milagroso. <i>(He is called Saint, but with no miracle.)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Bahay ni Mang Pedro, punung-puno ng bato.<i> (House of Pedro, full of stone)</i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Baboy sa pulo, ang balahibo ay pako.<i> (An island pig with a hair as hard as a nail.)</i></h4><script type="text/javascript">
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<li><h4>Nanganak ang birhen, itinapon ang lampin.<i> (The virgin gave birth, but throw the nappy) </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Nakayuko ang reyna di nalalaglag ang korona. (<i>The queen tilt her head but the crown did not fall)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>May langit, may lupa, May tubig, walang isda. <i>(There is a sky, there is soil, there is water, but no fish)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Kumpul-kumpol na uling, hayon at bibitin-bitin.<i> (A bunch of charcoal, hanging here and there.) </i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Bunga na ay namumunga pa. (<i>A fruit that still bears fruit)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Tiningnan nang tiningnan. Bago ito nginitian.<i> (It was look twice before it smile)</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Hindi prinsesa, hindi reyna. Bakit may korona? (<i>Not a princess, not a queen, but wears a crown).</i></h4></li>
<li><h4>Isang magandang dalaga.‘Di mabilang ang mata.<i> (A beautiful girl, you can't count her eyes)</i></h4><br />
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</script><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>ANSWERS:</b></span><br />
<h4><br />
</h4><h4>1. Pako - (Nails) </h4><h4>2. Sampayan - (Clothesline) </h4><h4>3. Tren - (Train) </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s1.hubimg.com/u/1373280_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>4.Gunting - (Scissors) </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s2.hubimg.com/u/1373257_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>5. Ulan - (Rain) </h4><h4>6. Tubig - (Water) </h4><h4>7. Banig - (Mat) </h4><h4>8. Damit/Baro - (Dress) </h4><h4>9. Kulambo - (Mosquito Net) </h4><h4>10. Hikaw - (Earrings) </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s1.hubimg.com/u/1373256_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>11. Hangin - (Wind) </h4><h4>12.Kulog - (Thunder) </h4><h4>13. Gabi - (Night) </h4><h4>14. Anino - (Shadow) </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s4.hubimg.com/u/1373255_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>15. Alkansiya - (Money Box) </h4><h4>16. Bituin - (Star) </h4><h4>17. Bahaghari - (Rainbow) </h4><h4>18. Buwan - (Moon) </h4><h4>19. Gata ng Niyog - (Coconut Milk) </h4><h4>20. Payong - (Umbrella)</h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s3.hubimg.com/u/1373258_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>21. Kasoy<i> (Cashew)</i> </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s2.hubimg.com/u/1371369_f520.jpg" title="" /> </h4><h4>22. Atis <i>(Sugar Apple)</i> </h4><h4>23. Mangga (<i>Mango)</i> </h4><h4>24. Lansones <i>(Lanzones)</i> </h4><h4>25. Mais <i>(Corn)</i> </h4><h4>26. Kasoy <i>(Cashew)</i> </h4><h4>27. Kasoy <i>(Cashew)</i> </h4><h4>28. Balimbing <i>(Star Apple)</i> </h4><h4>29.Pakwan <i>(Watermelon)</i> </h4><h4><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s1.hubimg.com/u/1371420_f520.jpg" title="" /></h4><h4> </h4><h4>30. Santol <i>(Santol fruit)</i> </h4><h4>31. Papaya <i>(Pawpaw)</i> </h4><h4><i> (House of Pedro, full of ston</i><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s2.hubimg.com/u/1371393_f520.jpg" title="" /></h4><h4> </h4><h4>32. Langka <i>(Jackfruit)</i> </h4><h4><i> (An island pig with a hair as hard as a nail.)</i><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s3.hubimg.com/u/1371438_f520.jpg" title="" /></h4><h4> </h4><h4>33. Saging <i>(Banana)</i> </h4><h4>34. Bayabas<i> (Guava)</i> </h4><h4>35. Niyog <i>(Coconut)</i> </h4><h4>36. Duhat <i>(Black Plum)</i> </h4><h4>37. Bunga</h4><h4>38. Mais <i>(Corn)</i> </h4><h4>39. Bayabas <i>(Guava)</i> </h4><h4>40. Pinya <i>(Pineapple)</i></h4><h4><i> (A beautiful girl, you can't count her eyes)</i><img alt="" class="full" src="http://s4.hubimg.com/u/1371403_f520.jpg" title="" /></h4><h4><i> </i></h4><h4><i> </i></h4></li>
</ol><h4><i> </i></h4><h4><i> </i></h4><h4><i> </i></h4></li>
</ol>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-61890345541048753132011-03-09T04:34:00.000-08:002011-03-25T21:49:45.013-07:00MODULE 6: REGION 4<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Module 6: Death in a Sawmill <br />
Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</div>Sources:http://ischoolsericsonalieto.wordpress.com <span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">and Philippine Literature of Development of Communication Arts and Humanities College of Arts and Sciences Southwestern University</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><br />
</b></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b> DEATH IN A SAWMILL</b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">RONY V. DIAZ</span></b></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;">You can cleave a rocck with it. It is the iron trith. That was not an accident. That was a murder. Yes, a murder. That impotent bastard, Rustico, murderd Rey.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">You have seen the chain that holds logs on a carriage in place. Well, that chain is controlled by a lever in which is out of the way and unless that lever is released, the chain cannot whip out like a crocodile’s and hurl a man to the wheeling circular saw.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I was down at our sawmill last summer to hunt. As soon as school was out, I took a bus for Lemery where I boarded a sailboat for Abra de Ilog. Inong met me at the pier with one of the trucks of the sawmill and took me down. The brazen heat of summer writhed on the yard of the sawmill which was packed hard with red sawdust.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">My father met me at the door of the canteen. He took my bags and led me in. I shouldered my sheathed carbine and followed. The canteen was a large framehouse made of unplaned planks. My father’s room was behind the big, barred store where the laborers of the sawmill bought their supplies. The wrought walls of the small room looked like stiffened pelts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">My father deposited my bags on a cot and then turned to me. “I’ve asked the assistant sawyer, Rey Olbes, to guide you.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The machined of the sawmill were dead.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Only the slow, ruthless grinding of the cables of the winches could be heard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“No work today?” I asked my father.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“A new batch of logs arrived from the interior and the men are arranging them for sawing.”</span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">then a steam whistle blew.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“They are ready to saw,”my father explained.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The steam machine started and built solid walls of sound that crashed against the framehouse. Then I heard the saw bite into one of the logs. Its locust-like trill spangeld the air.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“You’ll get used to the noise,”my father said. “I’ve some things to attend to. I’ll see ypu at lunch time.” He turned about and walked out of the room, shutting the door after him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I lay on the cot of my clothes on and listened to the pounding of the steam engine and the taut trill of the circular saw. After a while I dozed off.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">After luch, I walked out of the canteen and crossed the yard to the engine house. It was nothing more than a roof over an aghast collection of soot-blackened, mud-plasterd balky engines. Every inch of ground was covered with sour-smelling sawdust. The steam engine had stopped but two nakedmen were still stoking the furnace of the boilers with kerts and cracked slabs. Their bodies shone with sweat. I skirted the boiler and went past the cranes, tractors, and the trucks to the south end of the sawmill. A deep lateral pit, filled with kerts, flitches, and rejects, isolated like a moat the sawmill from the jungle. Near the pit, I saw Rey. He was sitting on a log deck. When he saw me, he got up and walked straight to me.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Are you Rustico?” I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“No, I’m Rey Olbes,”he answered.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“I’m Eddie,”I said; “my father sent me.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He was tall, a sunblackened young man. He had unusually long neck and his head was pushed forward like a horse’s.His skin was as grainy as moist whetstone.He stooped and picked up aa canterand stuck it on the groundand leaned on it. Then he switchedhis head like a stallion to shake back into place a damp lock of hair that had fallen over his left eye. His manner was easy and deliberate.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Your father told me you wanted to go hunting.” He said slowlu, his chin resting in the groove of his hands folded on the butt end of the canter. “tomorrow is Sunday. Would you like to hunt tomorrow?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Yes, we can hunt tomorrow.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Inside the engine shed the heat curled like live steam. It swathed my body like a skirt. “It’s hot here.” I said. “Do you always stay here after work?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“No, not always.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then I saw a woman emerge from behind one of the cranes. She was wearing gray slik dress. She walked toward us rapidly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Ray!” she bugled.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Ray dropped the canter and turned swiftly about. The woman’s dress clung damply to her body. She was fair; her lips were feverish and she had a sock of black electric hair.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">She faced Rey. “Have you seen Rustico?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“No.” Rey answered. There was a small fang of frenzy in his voice.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Tonight?” the woman asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey glanced at me and then looked at the woman. He reverted to his slow, deliberate manner as he said: “Dida, this is Eddie. The son of the boss.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Dida stared at me with frantic eyes. She said nothing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“He’s a hunter too,” Rey continued.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then I saw a man striding toward us. He walked hunched, his arms working like the claws of a crab. Tiny wings of sawdust formed around his heels. He was a small squat man, muscle-bound and graceless. He came to us and looked around agrily. He faced the woman and barked: “Go home, Dida.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“I was looking for you, Rustico,” Dida remostrated.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Did atruned around, sluking, and walked away. She disappeared behind the boilers and the furnace that rose in the shed like enormous black tumors. Rustico set himself squarely like a boxer before Rey and demanded almost in a whisper. “Why don’t you keep away from her?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey lokked at him coldly an answered mockingly: “You have found a fertile kaingin. Why don’t you start planting?.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Why you insolent son of the mother of whores!” Rustico screamed. He reached down to the ground for the canter and poised it before Rey like a harpoon. I bounded formward and grappled with Rustico. He pushed me. I sank to the sawdust; Rustico leapt forward to hit me in the jaw. Rey held him/</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Keep calm.” Rey shouted. “This is the son of Mang Pepe.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey released him and Rustico dropped his arms to his side. He looked suddenly very tired. He continued to stare at me with eyes that reflected yellow flacks of light. I got up slowly. What a bastard, I thought. Rustico wheeled about and strode to the whistle box. He opened it and tugged a cord. The steam whistle screamed like a stuck pig.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“All right man,” he yelled. “It’s time. Load the skids and let us start working”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey picked up his canter and walked towards the log carriage.Rustico was supervising the loading of the log deck. He was as precise and pulled clamps. He sparked like a starter and the monstrous conglomeration of boilers, furnaces, steam machines, cranes, and winches came alive. I walked away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">When I reached the canteen, I heard the teeth of the circular saw swarm into a log like a flight of locusts.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The next day of Rey, carrying a light riffle, came to the canteen. He pushed open the door with his foot andentered the barred room. He stood near my father’s table. His eyes shifted warily. Then he looked at me and said: “Get ready.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“I did not bring birdshot,” I said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“I thought you wanted to go after a deer?”he asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I was surprised bacause iknew that here deer was only hunted at night, with headlamps and buckshot. The shaft of the lamps always impaled a deer on the black wall of night and the could pick it off easily.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Now? This morning?” I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Why not? We are not going after spirits.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“All right. You are the guide.” I dragged the gun bag from under the cot and unsheated my carbine. I rammed the magazines full with shells, pushed it in, and got up. “let’s go.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We entered the forest from the west end of the sawmill and followed a wide tractor path to a long station about four kilometers from the sawmill. The forest was alive with the palever of monkeys, the call of the birds and the whack of the wind. Then we struck left uphill and climbed steadily fo about an hour. The trail clambered up the brush. At the top of the rise, the trail turned at an angle and we moved across the shoulder of an ipilipil ridge .</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey walked rapidly and evenly, his head pushed forward, until we reached the drop of the trail. I looked down into a valley walled in on sides by cliffs that showed red and blue-gray gashes. Streaks of brown and green were planed across the valley. Islands of dark-green shrubs rose above the level rush of yellow-green grass. On the left side of the valley, a small river fed clay-red water to a grove of trees. At the north end, the valley flattened and the sky dropped low, filling the valley with white light and making it look like the open mouth of the jungle, sucking at one of the hot, white, impalpable breasts of the sun. we descended into the valley.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey’s manner changed. He became tense. He walked slowly, half-crouched, his eyes searching the ground. He examined every mound, bush, and rock. Once he stopped; he bent and picked up a small rock. The rock had been recently displaced. He raised his hands to feel the wind and then he backtracked for several yards and crept diagonally to a small clump of brush. I followed behind him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Urine,”he said. The ground near his feet was wet. “Work in a cartridge,”he told me, “and follow as noiselessly as possible.” I pulled back the bolt of my riffle.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We crept on half-bent knees toward a groove of tress. Rey, carrying his riffle in the crook of his arm, was swaying gently like smoke and the tall grass that swirled with the breeze. Rey was intent.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Then he stopped and stiffened.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Remove the safety,”he whispered. I heard the safety of Rey’s riffle click off. I pushed mine off.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“There is your deer,”he said In a low voice. We were still crouched. “Near the base of that tree with a dead branch. Only its head was visible but it should be somewhere near that dry patch of leaves. Shoot through that. Do not move until I tell you to do so.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I did not see the deer until it moved.it turned its head towards us. Its antlers were as brown as the dead branch of the tree. The deer regarded us for a long time. Then it dropped his head and quickly raised it again. We did not move. The deer, reassured, stepped, deffidently out of the shadows.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Now!” Rey said, falling to his knees. The deer stopped, looked at us, its antlers scuffling against the leaves. I raised my riffle and fired. The deer went high in the air. Then dripping his head, it crashed through the trees and vanished.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Your aim was too high,”he told me quietly. He was sill on his knees. “Too high,” he said softly. “But you got him.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He stood up slowly, pushed down the safety of is rifle and walked toward the grove of low trees.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We found the deer. It was stretched out on the ground. Its neck was arched upward as though it had tried to raise its body with its head after the bullet had ripped a hump of flesh off its back. Blood had spread like a fan around its head. Rey sat down on the ground and dug out of his pocket a small knife. He cut an incision at the base of the deer’s neck. He stood and picked the deer up by its hind legs. Blood spurted out the cut vein.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">‘You got your deer.” He said. “Let’s turn back.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey hauled the deer up and carried it around his neck like a yoke.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I felt my nerves tingle with triumph. The earth was soaking up the blood slowly. I felt a crazy urge to wash my body with the blood. I felt that it would seep into my body and temper my spirit now forging hot with victory. I looked a t Rey. He was smiling at me. In a strained voice iI said: “I’ll try to do this alone.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“You’ll learn,’ he said. “The forest will surely outlive you.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">We walked out of the valley.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">After an hour’s walk, we came to a kaingin. Rey was sweating. We crossed the charred ground. At the end of the kaingin, Rey stopped. He turned arounnd. The deer has stiffened on his shoulders.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“This used to be deer country,” he said. We surveyed the black stumps and half-burned branches that lay strewn on the ground. The bare soil looked rusty.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“You know these parts very well, don’t you?” I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“ I grew up here, I was a logger for your father before I became a sawyer.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">His rifle slipped from his arm. I picked it up and carried it for him.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“It is the sawmill,” Rey continued. “It is the sawmill that openned the foresr. The sawmill has thinned the jungle miles around.” I starred at him. He continued meditatively, veins showing on his long, powerful neck. “But I do not think they can tame the forest. Unless they discover the seed of the wilderness and destroy it, this place is not yet done for.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Don’t oyu like your job in the sawmill?” I asked.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He shot a glance at me and grimaced. “ I do not complain. You do not have to tell this to your father but Rustico is making my stay very trying. You saw what happened yesterday.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Yes.” I said. “What made him so mad?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey did not answer. We crossed a gully and worked our way to the end of a dry river bed before he answered. The shale crumbled under our feet. The trees that grew along the bank of the river were caught by a net of vines. Rey, yoked by the deer, was now panting. Under a kalumpit tree he threw his burden down and sank to the ground.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“You know why?” he asked. “Because his wife is pregnant.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Dida? So?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“He’s impotent.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The revelation struck me like a slap.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“And he suspects you,” I asked tentatively, unsure now of me footing.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“He knows, Dida told him.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Why doesn’t he leave her then?” I said, trying to direct the talk away from Rey.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“He wouldn’t! He’d chain Dida to keep her!” Rey flared.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I shut my mouth. It was noon when we reached the sawmill.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Late that afternoon we left to shoot fruit bats. Rey knew a place where we could shoot them as they flew of their roost. He had aseveral tubes of birdshot and a shotgun.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">It was almost eight o’clock when we returned. We followed the road to the dawmill. The shacks of the laborers were build along the road. Near the motor pool, a low grass hut stood. We passes very close to this hut and we heard supressed, agry voices. “That is Rustico’s hut,” Rey said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I heard Rustico’s voice. He sounded strangled. “I want you to drop that baby!” The words spewed out like sand. “Let me go!” Dida screamed. I heard a table or a chair go, it crashed to the florr. “I’ll kill you,” Rustico threatened. “Do it then! The yellow wings of light that had sprouted from a kerosene lamp shook violently.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rey quickened his steps. He was carrying a bunch of dead bats. One of the bats had dropped, its wings spread. It looked like a black ghoul on Rey’s side.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The next morning, I heard from the men who were huddled near the door of the canteen that Dida ran away. She had hitched a ride to town on one of the trucks.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I was eating breakfast in the store with my father when Rustico entered. He approached my father carefully as though his feet hurt. Then he stood before us and looked meekly at my father. He was gray.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Mang Pepe,” he began very slowly, “I want to go to the town. I will be back this afternoon or early tomorrow morning.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Sure,” my father said. “Inong is driving a load of lumber to the pier. You go with him.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Thank you,” he said and left at once.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">After breakfast my father called in Lino, the foreman. “Tell Rey to take charge of the sawing today. Rustico is going to town. We’ve to finish this batch. A new load is arriving this afternoon.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Rey left early in this morning,” Lino said. “He said he will be back tomorrow morning.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Devil’s lighting!” my father fumed. “Why didn’t he tell me! Why is everybody so anxious to go to town?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“You were still asleep when he left, Mang Pepe,” Lino said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“These beggars are going to hold up our shipment this week!” my father flared. “Eddie,” my father whirled to face me, “look for Rustico and tell him that he cannot leave until Rey returns. We’ve to finish all the devil’s logs before all these lightning-struck beggars pack up and leave!”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I walked out of the canteen to look for Rustico, I searched all the trucks first and then the engine house. I found him sitting on the log carriage. He was shredding an unlighted cigaretet.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“My father said he is sorry but you cannot leave until Rey comes back from the town. We have a lot of work to do here. A new load of logs is expected this afternoon,” I spoke rapidly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He got up on the carriage and leaned on the chain that held the log clamps. He actedtired.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“It is all right,” he said. “I’ve plenty of time.” He spat out a ragged stalk of spittle. “Plenty of time.” I turned about to go but he called me back.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He looked at em for a long time and then asked: “You are Rey’s friend. What has he been about?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Nothing much,” I lied.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Why?”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Nothing much!” he screamed, jumping off the carriage. His dun face had become very red. “He told you about my wife, didn’t he? He delights in telling that story to everybody.” He seized a lever near the brake of the carriage and yanked it down. The chain lashed out and fell rattling to the floor.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Rustico tensed. He stared at the chain as though it were a dead snake. “Now look at that chain,” he said very slowly.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He mounted the carriage again, kicked the clamps into place and pulled at the chain. The chain tightened. He cranked the lever up and locked it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">He was trembling as he unlocked the lever and pulled it down with both hands. The chain lashed out again like a crocodile tail.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Just look at the chain,” he mused.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">RONY V. DIAZ is one of the younger Filipino short story writers. He was born in Cabanatuan, Nueva Ecija, but after Clark Field was bombed, his family left Cabanatuan for Mindoro. Diaz won Palanca Awards with "The Centipede" (1953), "Death in Sawmill" (1954), and "The Treasure" (1975). In 1959 he received a Smith- Mundt Grant for the study of linguistics and comparative literature and Indiana University. A few years later; he was awarded a Rockefeller grant to complete his first novel, tentatively titled All Others Are of Brass and Iron. He had been the director of National Manpower and Youth Council, had taught English at U.P. and is now on an overseas U.N assignment.</span></span></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">1. What is the story all about? </div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">2. Do you think it was a tragic story?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">3. Who are the characters in the story?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">4. Where is the setting of the story?</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">5. Where is the climax of the story?<br />
<br />
</div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-85143266290181544262011-03-02T21:30:00.001-08:002011-03-24T09:27:13.354-07:00MODULE 3 :TAGALOG POEMS<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Module 3:Kamay ng Birhen</b></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</b></span></div></div><h2 class="contentheading" style="color: #93246f; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;"><b>Source:</b></span><span style="font-size: small;"> http://snahhans.blogspot.com</span></h2><h2 class="contentheading" style="color: #93246f; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></h2><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">KAMAY NG BIRHEN</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: small;">Jose Corazon de Jesus</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mapuputing kamay, malasutla’t lambot,<br />
kung hinahawi mo itong aking buhok, </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ang lahat ng aking dalita sa loob</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ay nalilimot ko nang lubos na lubos</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">.At parang bulaklak na nangakabuka </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ang iyong daliring talulot ng ganda, </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">kung nasasalat ko, O butihing sinta,</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> parang ang bulakiak kahalikan ko na.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Kamay na mabait, may bulak sa lambot,</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> may puyo sa gitna paglikom sa loob; </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">magagandang kamay na parang may gamot,</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> isang daang sugat nabura sa haplos.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Parang mga ibong maputi’t mabait </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">na nakakatulog sa tapat ng dibdib;</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> ito’y bumubuka sa isa kong halik</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> at sa aking pisngi ay napakatamis.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ang sabi sa k’wento, ang kamay ng birhen </span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> ay napababait ang kahit salarin;</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">ako ay masama, nang ikaw’y giliwin,</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> ay nagpakabait nang iyong haplusin.</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span></b><br />
<br />
Si <b>Jose Cecilio Ramon Augusto Pangilinan de Jesus</b> o mas kilala sa pangalan na <b>Jose Corazon de Jesus</b> (1894-1932), may palayaw na Pepito Matimtiman, Huseng Batute, Huseng Katuwa, Anastacio Salagubang, Sundalong Lasing, Viterbi, Paruparong Asul, at Bayaning May Sugat, ay isang mamamahayag, makata at manunulat, at tulad din ni Balagtas at Rizal ay nakapagsulat ng maraming tula.<br />
<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. </span></span><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b> To whom do you think is the "Kamay ng Birhen" referred to? Discuss.<br />
2. What is the central theme of the poem?<br />
3. What is compared to the "Kamay ng Birhen" in every paragraph?<br />
4. Discuss the following sayings and relate to these to the poems:<br />
<br />
a. Behind the success of a man is always a man.<br />
<br />
<br />
b. Woman can do wonders.<br />
<br />
<br />
c. Woman is the noblest work of God.<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Module 3:</b><b>" ANG PAGIGING BAKLA AY PAGKABAYUBAY RIN SA KRUS NG KALBARYO </b></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</b></span></div></div><h2 class="contentheading" style="color: #93246f; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;"><b>Source:http://ugayworld.multiply.com</b></span></h2><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">" ANG PAGIGING BAKLA AY PAGKABAYUBAY RIN SA KRUS NG KALBARYO "</span><br />
<br />
ni Rolando A. Bernales</b></div><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;">Ang pagiging bakla ay habambuhay</div>Na pagkabayubay sa krus ng kalbaryo<br />
Papasanin mo ang krus sa iyong balikat<br />
Habang ngalalakad sa kung saan- saang lansangan<br />
Di laging sementado o aspaltado ang daan<br />
Madalas ay mabato, maputik o masukal<br />
Mapalad kung walang magpupukol ng bato o<br />
Mangangahas na bumulalas ng pangungutya<br />
Kailangang tiisin ang matatalas na sulyap<br />
O bulung- bulungan at matutunog na halakhak<br />
Di kaialangang lumingon pa, di sila dapat kilalanin<br />
Sapagkat sila'y iba't ibang mukha: bata, matanda<br />
Lalaki, babae, ina, ama, anak o kapatid, mayaman o mahirap, </div><div style="text-align: center;">kilala o di kilala<br />
Sinong pipigil sa kanila? hindi ikaw<br />
Anong lakas meron ka upang tumutol?<br />
Makapaghihimagsik ka pa ba kung ang iyong palad<br />
At ang iyong paa'y ipinako na ng lipunan<br />
Sa likong kultura't tradisyon at bulok na paniniwalang<br />
Nagdidiktang ang pagiging bakla ay isang kasalanan<br />
Na nararapat na pagdusahan sa krus ng kalbaryo</div> Kahit na ika'y magpumilit na magpakarangal. <br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><b><span style="font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. What is the author's impression of homosexuality?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">2. Describe the plight of homosexuality by citing lines from the poem to support your answer.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">3. Are we supposed to judge homosexuals? Why or Why not?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Module 3:Kailong Pugad<br />
</b></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</b></span></div></div><h2 class="contentheading" style="color: #93246f; font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: black; font-size: small;"><b>Source:http://www.iloiloviews.com, http://iamchristyann.tumblr.com</b></span></h2><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Kailong Pugad </span></b><br />
ni Flavio Zaragoza Cano<br />
<br />
<br />
Ang pispis sang gugma sing pugad sumab-it<br />
<br />
Sa sanga sang kagha nga lunsay salait;<br />
<br />
Humuyup ang hangin nga labing mangitngit,<br />
<br />
Kailo ng apugad sa duta nawigit.<br />
<br />
Sang akong gugma amo’ng halimbawa<br />
<br />
Ang kailong pugad sa sanga ang kagha;<br />
<br />
Humuyup ang hangin sang imo pagdaya<br />
<br />
Ang pugad nahulog, inanud sang luha.<br />
<br />
Kong ikaw mangilin nga ang pugad malugdang,<br />
<br />
Sagupa man anay sa higa sang pangpang,<br />
<br />
Kay kon mapatakas sang imong pagtabang<br />
<br />
Sa dughan mong puti masang-at na lamang.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Flavio Zaragoza Cano<br />
A WELL-KNOWN professor and researcher, Filemon Poblador, listed the three greatest poets in Spanish produced by the Philippines. Of the three, one was Iloilo’s greatest poet — Flavio Zaragoza Cano. The other two were Fernando Maria Guerrero and Cecilio Apostol, both from Manila.<br />
<br />
Decades ago, Claro M. Recto bestowed distinction on Zaragoza Cano as not only the greatest Ilonggo poet in Spanish but that he also holds the same honor in the field of Hiligaynon poetry.<br />
<br />
The distinguished bard hailed from Cabatuan, Iloilo, born to Sinforoso Zaragoza y Casten and Agapita Cano y Montero. His birth took place on June 27, 1892, in barrio Janipaan of Cabatuan.<br />
<br />
At the age of four Flavio was given to the care of his grandmother, Doña Petra Casten who three years later, sent him to the Centro Escolar de Molo under the Salas brothers. In this school his grades were sobresaliente (excellent).<br />
<br />
His literary genius first showed itself in 1906, when he was only fourteen. He wrote a poem “Alma Joven”, which was accepted for publication in Nuevo Heraldo. Two years later he obtained the Bachiller en Artes degree from the Instituto de Molo, where he was president of the Sociedad Recreativa Literencia.<br />
<br />
After graduation he taught in the Escuela Parochial de Molo, administered by the Rev. Father Nicolas Valencia. It was at this time that he wrote his first zarsuela entitled “Ang Binunga sang Bisyo”.<br />
<br />
Helping in the campaign of Don Manuel Locsin, his teacher, for the governorship of Iloilo in the elections of 1906 made him desire to study law; so, in 1910, he sailed for Manila where he enrolled at the Escuela de Derecho and later at the Colegio de Derecho directed by Felipe Buencamino. In order to support himself and finance his studies, he worked as bookkeeper in the Farmacia Filipina in Binondo and at the same time taught school at the Colegio de Mercantil.<br />
<br />
While in Manila, furor scribindi made him produce literary pieces which he contributed to La Vanguardia, Renacimiento, El Ideal and the Philippines Free Press (Spanish section) in Manila; El Tiempo, Makinaugalingon, and La Semana in Iloilo; The union in Mindanao; La Revolucion in Cebu; and the Philippine Republic in Hong Kong. He also had several articles published in Libertad, Renacimiento Filipino, Bayang Filipina, and Kahirup. He was also the director of the bilingual publication “Bugtot Pagui.” His much inspired La Roca Eterna was published in Mexico.<br />
<br />
The poet Flavio Zaragoza Cano found his muse in the person of Josefa Francisco of Manila. To marry her in 1914, he gave up his studies and dreams of becoming a lawyer.<br />
<br />
After his marriage he took his wife to Albay, where he became manager and part-owner of a printing press and a newspaper, Heraldo Bicolandia.. In 1916, he managed a bazaar in Legaspi and also the Imprinta Monserrat in that town. In the same year, the people of Albay, Albay, in recognition of his literary powers and journalistic achievements, elected him to their municipal council.<br />
<br />
Don Flavio always had soft heart for the poor and the laboring class. In 1917, in order to help the working man, he organized the first labor union in the Bicol region. One of his feats as a labor leader was the settling of the labor trouble in the steamship Vapor Poizat.<br />
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Five years in Bicol made the poet homesick for his native province, so in 1919 he came back to Iloilo. Here he at once plunged into full-time writing. He edited four papers simultaneously: Nuevo Heraldo, El Adalid, Baganiban, and El Pueblo. An oratorical contest was held that year at the Casino Español, and Don Flavio won the first prize of five hundred pesos. The following year, 1920, he again received another five hundred pesos when his poem won the first prize in another contest. From then on he was much in demand as public speaker, especially in the proclamation of town fiesta queens and barrio indays.<br />
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His hometown of Cabatuan called him to act as municipal secretary in 1922; then he served in the capacity for the municipality of Dumangas, Iloilo, from 1923 to 1927.<br />
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Although he was not able to finish his study of law, he was given a license as notary public, which professor he practiced from 1923-1931. After his stint as municipal secretary of Dumangas, he became the private secretary of Senator Jose M. Arroyo.<br />
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His first major honor as a poet came in 1926, the same year that he was appointed secretary of the Provincial Board of Iloilo. He was crowned as “Rey de Balagtas en Poesia en Dialecta Bisaya.” The second honor came in May, 1938, when he was proclaimed “Poet Laureate” and awarded a silver medal during a velada in Bacolod City. As further recognition of his talents, he was admitted member of the Academia Española de la Lengua Castellana and the Sociedad de Literatos y Artistas Filipinos. In 1929 he gained national recognition when he won the Zobel Prize for Spanish poetry.<br />
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His government service was unbroken from 1923 to 1934 when, after passing the Civil Service Examination, he was appointed as interpreter in the Iloilo Court of First Instance. He served in this capacity up to 1935.<br />
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In 1935, his first book Cantos A España, an anthology of selected verses was in fact a glorious tribute to mother Spain, at the same time a triumph of the Spanish language.<br />
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The work that brought him national fame was his magnum opus, the book-length De Mactan a Tirad. This book was entered in the memorable Commonwealth Literary Contest in 1940. Impartial critics as well as the author him-self expected it to win the coveted first prize. To the author’s mortification and the critics’ surprise, however, the work won only second prize. Next to Jesus Balmori’s entry in the category of Spanish poetry.<br />
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Zaragoza refused the second prize of P2,000 and, at the presentation of</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Prizes by President Quezon, he tore up the check in front of the President, then stalked out of august hall amidst the stunned hush of the audience. The poet contended that his work was superior to that of Balmori in historical facts, in style, in beauty of expression and in eloquence.<br />
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As far as is known, the irrepressible Ilonggo poet was the only person who had defied the explosive temper of the fiery Quezon by such an impulsive act in the president’s presence. The late Dr. Severo Hervas, Zaragoza’s close associate, could hardly believe Don Flavio’s action. “Muy terrible!” Dr. Hervas used to say when reminded of the incident. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><b><span style="font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">1. What is the subject in the poem?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 2. What is the tone of the poem?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 3. What is the first stanza all about?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 4. What comparison is made in the second paragraph?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"> 5. What is the message in the third paragraph?</span></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
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</div><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div mce_style="text-align: center;" style="line-height: 1.4em; margin: 5px 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center;"><div style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;"></div></div></div></div></div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-49258969449649581322011-03-02T21:02:00.001-08:002011-03-23T01:00:13.374-07:00MODULE 4: FILIPINO FOLKTALES<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><marquee></marquee><span style="color: purple;"></span></b></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Module 4:My Brother's Peculiar Chicken</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b><span style="color: purple; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: purple;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Sources:</span></b><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></b><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Philippine Literature from Ancient Times to The Present By Teofilo del Castillo y Tuazon and Buenaventura S. Medina, Jr.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><marquee></marquee><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><b><marquee><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: x-large;">My Brother’s Peculiar Chicken</span></marquee><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-size: small;"> </span></b></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"><b>Alejandro R. Roces</b></span><br />
<div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt;"><span style="color: purple;"><img 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/></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: purple;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My brother Kiko had a very peculiar chicken. It was very peculiar because no one could tell whether it was a rooster or a hen. My brother claimed it was a rooster. I claimed it was a hen. We almost got lynched trying to settle the argument.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> The whole question began early one morning, while Kiko and I were driving the chickens from the cornfield. The corn had just been planted and the chickens were scratching the seed out for food. Suddenly we heard the rapid flapping of wings. We turned in the direction of the sound and saw the two chickens fighting the far end of the field. We could not see the birds clearly, as they were lunging at each other in a whirlwind of feathers and dust. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “Look at the rooster fight!|” my brother said pointing excitedly at one of the chickens. “Why, if I had a rooster like that I could get rich in the cockpit.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “Let us go and catch it,” I suggested. “No, you stay here, I will go and catch it,” Kiko said, my brother slowly approached the battling chickens. They were so busy fighting that they did not notice him as he approached. When he got near them, he dived and caught one of them by the legs. It struggled and squawked. Kiko finally held it by both wings and it stood still. I ran over to where he was and took a good look at the chicken.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “<i>Aba,</i> it is a hen!” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “What is the matter with you?” my brother asked. “Is the heat making you sick?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “No, look at its head. It has no comb or wattles.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “No comb or wattles! Who cares about its comb or wattles? Didn’t you see it fight?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “Sure, I saw it fight, but I still say it is a hen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “A hen! Did you ever saw a hen with spurs like this? Or a hen with a tail like this?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> Kiko and I could not agree on what determines the sex of a chicken. If the animal in question had been a carabao it would have been simple. All we would have to do was to look at the carabao. We would have wasted no time at examining its tail, hooves, or horns. We would simply have looked at the animal straight in the face, and if it had a brass on its nose the carabao would undoubtedly be a bull. But chickens are not like carabaos. So the argument went on in the field and the whole morning. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> At noon, we left to have our lunch. We argued about it on the way home. When we arrived at our house, Kiko tethered the chicken on a peg. The chicken flapped its wings – and then crowed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “There! Did you hear that?” my brother exclaimed triumphantly. “I suppose you are going to tell me now that carabaos fly.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “I do not care if it crows or not,” I said. “That chicken is a hen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> We went in the house and the discussion continued during lunch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “It is not a hen,” Kiko said. “It is a rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> “It is a hen,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It is not.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It is.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="color: purple;"></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“That’s enough!” Mother interrupted. “How many times must Father tell you boys not to argue during lunch?” What is the argument about this time?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">We told Mother and she went out to look at the chicken,</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“The chicken”, she said, “is a binabae. It is a rooster that looks like a hen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">That should have ended the argument. But Father also went to see the chicken and he said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“No, Mother, you are wrong. That chicken is a binalake, a hen which looks like a rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Have you been drinking again?” Mother asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“No,” Father answered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Then what makes you say that rooster is a hen? Have you ever seen a hen with feathers like that?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Listen. I have handled fighting roosters since I was a boy, and you cannot tell me that thing is a rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Before Kiko and I realized what had happened to Father and Mother were arguing about the chicken all by themselves. Soon Mother was crying. She always cried when argued with Father.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“You know well that it is a rooster,” she sobbed. “You are just being mean and stubborn.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I am sorry,” Father said. But I know a hen when I see one.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then he put his arms around Mother and called her corny names like my Reina Elenea, my Madonna and my Maria Clara. He always did that when Mother cried. Kiko and I felt embarrassed. We left the house without finishing our lunch. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I know who can settle this question,” my brother said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Tenienteng Tasio.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Tenienteng Tasio was the head of the village. I did not think that the chief of the village was the man who could solve a problem. For the chief was the barrio philosopher. By this I mean that he was a man who explained his strange views by even stranger reasons. For example, the chief frowned on cockfighting. Now many people object to rooster fighting, their reason being either that they think cockfighting is cruel or that they think gambling is bad. Neither of these was the chief’s reason. Cockfighting, he said was a waste of time because it has been proven that one gamecock can beat another.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The chief, however, had one merit. He was the oldest man in the barrio, and while this did not make him an ornithologist, still, we have to admit that anything said always carries more weight if it is said by a man with grey hairs. So when Kiko suggested consulting the teniente, I voiced no objection. I acquiesced to let him be the arbiter of our dispute. He <span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">untied the chicken and we both took it to the chief.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Tenienteng Tasio, is this chicken a male or a female?” Kiko asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“That is a question that could concern only another chicken,” the chief replied.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Both Kiko and I were taken aback by this replication. But Kiko was obstinate, so he tried another approach.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Look, teniente,” he said, “my brother and I happen to have a special interest in this particular chicken. Please give us an answer. Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Is this a rooster?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It does not look like any rooster that I have ever seen,” said the teniente.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It is a hen, then,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It does not look like any hen that I have ever seen,” was the reply.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My brother and I were dumbfounded. For a long while we remained speechless. Then Teniente Tasio asked:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Have you ever seen an animal like this before?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Kiko and I had to admit that we hadn’t.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Then how do you both know it is a chicken?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Well, what else could it be?” Kiko asked in turn.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It could be another kind of bird.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Oh, God, no!” Kiko said.” Let’s go to town and see Mr. Cruz. He would know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mr. Eduardo Cruz lived in the nearby town of Alcala. He had studied poultry husbandry at Los Baños, and he operated a large egg farm. When we got there Mr. Cruz was taking his siesta, so Kiko released the chicken in his yard.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The other chicken would not associate with ours. Not only did they keep as far away from it as they could, but they did not even seem to care to which sex it belonged. Unembarrassed by this, our chicken chased and disgraced several pullets.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“There!” my brother exclaimed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“That should prove to you it is a rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“It proves nothing of the sort,” I said. “It only proves it has rooster instincts – but it could still be a hen.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">As soon as Mr. Cruz was up, we caught the chicken and took it to his office.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Mr. Cruz,” Kiko said, “is this a hen or a rooster?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Mr. Cruz looked at the bird curiously and then said:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Hmmmm, I don’t know. I couldn’t tell at one look. I have never run across a biddy like this before.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Well, is there any way you can tell?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Why, sure. Look at the feathers on its back. If the ends are round, it’s a she. If they are pointed, then it is a he.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The three of us examined its feathers closely. It had both!</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Hmm. Very peculiar,” said Mr. Cruz.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Is there any other way you can tell?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I could kill it and examine its insides,”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“No, I don’t want it killed,” my brother said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I took the plumed creature in my arms and we walked back to the barrio. Kiko was silent most of the way. Then suddenly he snapped his fingers and said:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“I know how I can prove to you that this is a rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“How?” I asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Would you agree that this is a rooster if it fights in a cockpit – and it wins?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“If this hen of yours can beat a gamecock, I would believe anything,” I said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“All right,” he said, “we will take it to the cockpit this coming Sunday.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">So that Sunday we took the chicken to the cockpit. Kiko looked around for a suitable opponent and finally decided on a red rooster. I recognized the rooster as a veteran of the pit whose picture had once graced the cover of the gamecock magazine <i>Pintakasi</i>. It was also the chanticleer that had once escaped to the forest and lured all the hens away from the surrounding farms. Raising its serpent-liked head, the red rooster eyed the chicken arrogantly and jiggled its sickle feathers. This scared me. For I knew that when the gamecock is in breeding mood it is twice a ferocious.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Do not pit your hen against the rooster,” I told Kiko. That the rooster is not a native chicken. It was brought over the from Texas.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“That does not mean anything to me,” my brother said. “”My rooster will kill it.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Do not be a fool,” I said. “That red rooster is a killer. It has killed more chickens than the cholera. There is no rooster in this province that can take its gaff. Pick on a less formidable rooster.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My brother would not listen. The match was made and the birds were headed for the killing. Sharp steel gaffs were tied to their left legs. Kiko bet eight pesos on his chicken. I only bet two. The odds were two to one. Then I said a tacit prayer to Santa Rita de Casia, patroness of the impossible.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then the fight began. Both birds were released at the center of the arena. The Texan scratched the ground as if it were digging a grave for its opponent. Moments later, the two fighters confronted each other. I expected our rooster to die of fright. Instead, a strange thing happened. A lovesick expression came into the red rooster’s eyes. Then it did a love dance. Naturally, this was a most surprising incident to one and all, but particularly to those who had stakes on the Texas rooster. For it was evident that the Texan was thoroughly infatuated with our chicken and that any attention it had for the moment was strictly amatory. But before anyone could collect his wits our foul rushed at the red stag with its hackle feathers flaring. In one lunge, it buried its spur in its adversary’s breast. The fight was over! The sentencer raised our chicken in token victory.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Tiope! Tiope! Fixed fight!” the crowed shouted.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Then a riot broke out. People tore the bamboo benches apart and used them as clubs. My brother and I had to leave through the back way. I had the chicken under my arm. We ran towards the coconut groves and we kept running till we lost the mob. As soon as we felt safe, we sat on the ground and rested. We were both panting like dogs.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Now are you convinced it is a rooster?” Kiko muttered between breaths.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">“Yes,” I answered.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I was glad the whole thing was over.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">But the chicken had other ideas. It began to quiver. Then something round and warm dropped on to my hand. The chicken cackled with laughter. I looked down and saw – an egg! </span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> </span><b>Background Information:</b></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">1. Who are the characters in the story?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2. Who's chicken was peculiar?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">3. Why did Kiko find his chicken peculiar?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">4.What made Kiko's brother believe that his chicken was really a peculiar one?</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: black;">5.</span> <span style="color: black;">What happened when Kiko's chicken fought another chicken?</span></span></span><br />
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<h2 class="contentheading" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Juan Wearing a Monkey’s Skin</span></h2><div class="buttonheading" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"></span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">This Filipino story was recorded in English based on a Kapampangan (Pampango, from the province of Pampanga) version in the early 20th century. There is also a Bicolano (Bikulano, from Bicol) version of this story. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Once upon a time there was a couple which was at first childless. The father was very anxious to have a son to inherit his property: so he went to the church daily, and prayed God to give him a child, but in vain. One day, in his great disappointment, the man exclaimed without thinking, “O great God! let me have a son, even if it is in the form of a monkey!” and only a few days later his wife gave birth to a monkey. The father was so much mortified that he wanted to kill his son; but finally his better reason prevailed, and he spared the child. He said to himself, “It is my fault, I know; but I uttered that invocation without thinking.” So, instead of putting the monkey to death, the couple just hid it from visitors; and whenever any one asked for the child, they merely answered, “Oh, he died long ago.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The time came when the monkey grew to be old enough to marry. He went to his father, and said, “Give me your blessing, father, for I am going away to look for a wife.” The father was only too glad to be freed from this obnoxious son, so he immediately gave him his blessing. Before letting him go, however, the father said to the monkey, “You must never come back again to our house.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Very well, I will not,” said the monkey. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The monkey then left his father’s house, and went to find his fortune. One night he dreamed that there was a castle in the midst of the sea, and that in this castle dwelt a princess of unspeakable beauty. The princess had been put there so that no one might discover her existence. The monkey, who had been baptized two days after his birth and was named Juan, immediately repaired to the palace of the king. There he posted a letter which read as follows: “I, Juan, know that your Majesty has a daughter.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Naturally the king was very angry to have his secret discovered. He immediately sent soldiers to look for Juan. Juan was soon found, and brought to the palace. The king said to him, “How do you know that I have a daughter? If you can bring her here, I will give her to you for a wife. If not, however, your head shall be cut off from your body.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“O your Majesty!” said Juan, “I am sure that I can find her and bring her here. I am willing to lose my head if within three days I fail to fulfil my promise.” After he had said this, Juan withdrew, and sadly went out to look for the hidden princess. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">As he was walking along the road, he heard the cry of a bird. He looked up, and saw a bird caught between two boughs so that it could not escape. The bird said to him, “O monkey, if you will but release me, I will give you all I have.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, no!” said the monkey. “I am very hungry, and would much rather eat you.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span class="pagenum"> </span>“If you will but spare my life,” said the bird, “I will give you anything you want.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“On one condition only will I set you free,” said the monkey. “You must procure for me the ring of the princess who lives in the midst of the sea.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, that’s an easy thing to do,” said the bird. So the monkey climbed the tree and set the bird free. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The bird immediately flew to the island in the sea, where fortunately it found the princess refreshing herself in her garden. The princess was so charmed with the song of the bird, that she looked up, and said, “O little bird! if you will only promise to live with me, I will give you anything you want.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“All right,” said the bird. “Give me your ring, and I will forever live with you.” The princess held up the ring; and the bird suddenly snatched it and flew away with it. It gave the ring to the monkey, who was, of course, delighted to get it. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Now the monkey jogged along the road until finally he saw three witches. He approached them, and said to them, “You are the very beings for whom I have spent the whole day looking. God has sent me here from heaven to punish you for your evil doings toward innocent persons. So I must eat you up.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Now, witches are said to be afraid of ill-looking persons, although they themselves are the ugliest beings in all the world. So these three were terribly frightened by the monkey’s threat, and said, “O sir! spare our lives, and we will do anything for you !” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Very well, I will spare you if you can execute my order. From this shore you must build a bridge which leads to the middle of the sea, where the castle of the princess is situated.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“That shall be speedily done,” replied the witches; and they at once gathered leaves, which they put on their backs. Then they plunged into the water. Immediately after them a bridge was built. Thus the monkey was now able to go to the castle. Here he found the princess. She was very much surprised to see this evil-looking animal before her; but she was much more frightened when the monkey showed her the ring which the bird had given him, and claimed her for his wife. “It is the will of God that you should go with me,” said the monkey, after the princess had shown great repugnance towards him. “You either have to go with me or perish.” Thinking it was <span class="pagenum"> </span>useless to attempt to resist such a mighty foe, the princess finally yielded. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The monkey led her to the king’s palace, and presented her before her parents; but no sooner had the king and queen seen their daughter in the power of the beast, than they swooned. When they had recovered, they said simultaneously, “Go away at once, and never come back here again, you girl of infamous taste! Who are you? You are not the princess we left in the castle. You are of villain’s blood, and the very air which you exhale does suffocate us. So with no more ado depart at once!” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The princess implored her father to have pity, saying that it was the will of God that she should be the monkey’s wife. “Perhaps I have been enchanted by him, for I am powerless to oppose him.” But all her remonstrance was in vain. The king shut his ears against any deceitful or flattering words that might fall from the lips of his faithless and disobedient daughter. Seeing that the king was obstinate, the couple turned their backs on the palace, and decided to find a more hospitable home. So the monkey now took his wife to a neighboring mountain, and here they settled. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">One day the monkey noticed that the princess was very sad and pale. He said to her, “Why are you so sad and unhappy, my darling? What is the matter?” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Nothing. I am just sorry to have only a monkey for my husband. I become sad when I think of my past happiness.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“I am not a monkey, my dear. I am a real man, born of human parents. Didn’t you know that I was baptized by the priest, and that my name is Juan?” As the princess would not believe him, the monkey went to a neighboring hut and there cast off his disguise (<i>balit cayu</i>). He at once returned to the princess. She was amazed to see a sparkling youth of not more than twenty years of age—nay, a prince—kneeling before her. “I can no longer keep you in ignorance,” he said. “I am your husband, Juan.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, no! I cannot believe you. Don’t try to deceive me! My husband is a monkey; but, with all his defects, I still cling to him and love him. Please go away at once, lest my husband find you here! He will be jealous, and may kill us both.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, no! my darling, I am your husband, Juan. I only disguised myself as a monkey.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><span class="pagenum"> </span>But still the princess would not believe him. At last she said to him, “If you are my real husband, you must give me a proof of the fact.” So Juan [we shall hereafter call him by this name] took her to the place where he had cast off his monkey-skin. The princess was now convinced, and said to herself, “After all, I was not wrong in the belief I have entertained from the beginning,—that it was the will of God that I should marry this monkey, this man.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Juan and the princess now agreed to go back to the palace and tell the story. So they went. As soon as the king and queen saw the couple, they were very much surprised; but to remove their doubt, Juan immediately related to the king all that had happened. Thus the king and queen were finally reconciled to the at first hated couple. Juan and his wife succeeded to the throne on the death of the king, and lived peacefully and happily during their reign. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The story is now ended. Thus we see that God compensated the father and mother of Juan for their religious zeal by giving them a son, but punished them for not being content with what He gave them by taking the son away from them again, for Juan never recognized his parents.</span><br />
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<span style="color: purple;">Sources:<b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"> </span></b></span><a href="http://www.univie.ac.at/voelkerkunde/apsis/aufi/folk/folk-t03.htm"><span style="color: purple;">http://www.univie.ac.at/voelkerkunde/apsis/aufi/folk/folk-t03.htm</span></a><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Background Information:</span></b></span></span><br />
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<span mce_style="font-family: times new roman,times;" style="font-family: times new roman, times;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This Filipino story was recorded in English based on a Kapampangan (Pampango, from the province of Pampanga) version in the early 20th century. There is also a Bicolano (Bikulano, from Bicol) version of this story. </span></span><span style="color: black;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: black;"><strong><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></strong></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: black;"><strong><span style="font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></strong><br />
1. Who helped Juan to procure the ring of the princess who lives in the midst of the sea.?<br />
2. Juan saw ________when he jogged along the road.<br />
3. What made the princess believed that Juan was really her husband?<br />
4. What did Juan's father tell him when he planned to leave the house?<br />
5. How did Juan know that the King had a daughter?</span><span style="color: purple;"><br />
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<h2 class="contentheading" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;">The Clever Husband and Wife</span></h2><div class="buttonheading"><span style="color: purple;"></span></div><div class="div2"><div class="byline"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span></span></div><span style="color: purple;">Pedro had been living as a servant in a doctor’s house for more than nine years. He wanted very much to have a wife, but he had no business of any kind on which to support one. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">One day he felt very sad. His look of dejection did not escape the notice of his master, who said, “What is the matter, my boy? Why do you look so sad? Is there anything I can do to comfort you?” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, yes!” said Pedro. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“What do you want me to do?” asked the doctor. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Master,” the man replied, “I want a wife, but I have no money to support one.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Oh, don’t worry about money!” replied his master. “Be ready tomorrow, and I will let you marry the woman you love.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The next day the wedding was held. The doctor let the couple live in a cottage not far from his<i> hacienda</i>, and he gave them two hundred pieces of gold. When they received the money, they hardly knew what to do with it, as Pedro had never had any business of any sort. “What shall we do after we have spent all our money?” asked the wife. “Oh, we can ask the doctor for more,” answered Pedro. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Years passed by, and one day the couple had not even a cent with which to buy food. So Pedro went to the doctor and asked him for some money. The doctor, who had always been kind to them, gave him twenty pieces of gold; but these did not last very long, and it was not many days before the money was all spent. The husband and wife now thought of another way by which they could get money from the doctor. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Early one day Pedro went to the doctor’s house weeping. He said that his wife had died, and that he had nothing with which to pay for her burial. (He had rubbed onion-juice on his eyes, so that he looked as if he were really crying.) When the doctor heard Pedro’s story, he pitied the man, and said to him, “What was the matter with your wife? How long was she sick?” “For two days,” answered Pedro. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“Two days!” exclaimed the doctor, “why did you not call me, then? We should have been able to save her. Well, take this money and see that she gets a decent burial.” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Pedro returned home in good spirits. He found his wife Marta waiting for him at the door, and they were happy once more; but in a month the money was all used up, and they were on the point of starving again. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Now, the doctor had a married sister whom Pedro and his wife had worked for off and on after their marriage. Pedro told his wife to go to the doctor’s sister, and tell her that he was dead and that she had no money to pay for the burial. Marta set out, as she was told; and when she arrived at the sister’s house, the woman said to her, “Marta, why are you crying?” </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“My husband is dead, and I have no money to pay for his burial,” said Marta, weeping. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">“You have served us well, so take this money and see that masses are said for your husband’s soul,” said the kind-hearted mistress. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">That evening the doctor visited his sister to see her son who was sick. The sister told him that Marta’s husband had died. “No,” answered the doctor, “it was Marta who died.” They argued and argued, but could not agree; so they finally decided to send one of the doctor’s servants to see which one was dead. When Pedro saw the servant coming, he told his wife to lie flat and stiff in the bed as if she were dead; and when the servant entered, Pedro showed him his dead wife. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The servant returned, and told the doctor and his sister that it was Marta who was dead; but the sister would not believe him, for she said that perhaps he was joking. So they sent another servant. This time Marta made Pedro lie down stiff and flat in the bed; and when the servant entered the house, he saw the man lying as if dead. So he hurried back and told the doctor and his sister what he had seen. Now neither knew<span class="pagenum"> </span>what to believe. The next morning, therefore, the doctor and his sister together visited the cottage of Pedro. They found the couple both lying as if dead. After examining them, however, the doctor realized that they were merely feigning death. He was so pleased by the joke, and so glad to find his old servants alive, that he took them home with him and made them stay at his house.</span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Background Information:</span></b></span></span><br />
<span mce_style="font-family: times new roman,times;" style="color: black; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">This Tagalog story is said to have been derived from the Arabian “1001 Nights.” Here it is in English as recorded in the early 20th century: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
<span style="color: purple;"><strong><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri; font-size: large;"></span></strong></span></div><span style="color: purple;"></span></div><span style="color: purple;"></span></div><span style="color: purple;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: purple;"><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"><span style="color: black;">1. Who was Pedro's master?</span></span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">2. What was the reason behind Pedro's sadness?</div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">3. What was the name of Pedro's wife?</div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">4. Why did Pedro went back to the doctor's house?</div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">5. Where did the Doctor let Pedro and his wife live?</div><h2 class="contentheading" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;">The Miraculous Cow</span><span style="color: purple;"><br />
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</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">There was once a farmer driving home from his farm in his kariton. He had tied his cow to the back of his cart, as he was accustomed to do every evening on his way home. While he was going along the road, two boys saw him. They were Felipe and Ambrosio. Felipe whispered to Ambrosio, “Do you see the cow tied to the back of that kariton? Well, if you will untie it, I will take it to our house.” </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">Ambrosio approached the kariton slowly, and untied the cow. He handed the rope to Felipe, and then tied himself in the place of the animal. </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">“Come on, Ambrosio! Don’t be foolish! Come on with me!” whispered Felipe impatiently. </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">“No, leave me alone! Go home, and I will soon be there!” answered the cunning Ambrosio. </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">After a while the farmer happened to look back. What a surprise for him! He was frightened to find a boy instead of his cow tied to the kariton. “Why are you there? Where is my cow?” he shouted furiously. “Rascal, give me my cow!” </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">“Oh, don’t be angry with me!” said Ambrosio. “Wait a minute, and I will tell you my story. Once, when I was a small boy, my mother became very angry with me. She cursed me, and suddenly I was transformed into a cow; and now I am changed back into my own shape. It is not my fault that you bought me: I could not tell you not to do so, for I could not speak at the time. Now, generous farmer, please give me my freedom! for I am very anxious to see my old home again.” </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">The farmer did not know what to do, for he was very sorry to lose his cow. When he reached home, he told his wife the story. Now, his wife was a kind-hearted woman; so, after thinking a few minutes, she said, “Husband, what can we do? We ought to set him free. It is by the great mercy of God that he has been restored to his former self.” </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;">So the wily boy got off. He rejoined his friend, and they had a good laugh over the two simple folks. </span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Background Information:</span></b></span></span><br />
This is a Tagalog story recorded in English in the early 20th century. This tale may strike Western sensibilities as mean, but making fun of "simple folk" is not uncommon in Filipino oral stories. It's a moral story on cleverness contrasted with the stupidity of believing in superstition. </div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;"></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
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1. Who was driving home from his farm in his kariton?<br />
2. Who were the 2 boys saw the farmer going along the road?<br />
3. What did Ambrosio tell the farmer when he got caught?<br />
4. Did the farmer punish Ambrosio for what he did? <br />
5. The farmer's wife was a ________woman.</div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple; font-size: large;"><strong>The Story of Benito</strong></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: purple;"><br />
</span></div><span style="color: purple;">Benito was an only son who lived with his father and mother in a little village. They were very poor, and as the boy grew older and saw how hard his parents struggled for their scanty living he often dreamed of a time when he might be a help to them.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">One evening when they sat eating their frugal meal of rice the father told about a young king who lived in a beautiful palace some distance from their village, and the boy became very much interested. That night when the house was dark and quiet and Benito lay on his mat trying to sleep, thoughts of the young king repeatedly came to his mind, and he wished he were a king that he and his parents might spend the rest of their lives in a beautiful palace. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The next morning he awoke with a new idea. He would go to the king and ask for work, that he might in that way be able to help his father and mother. He was a long time in persuading his parents to allow him to go, however, for it was a long journey, and they feared that the king might not be gracious. But at last they gave their consent, and the boy started out. The journey proved tiresome. After he reached the palace, he was not at first permitted to see the king. But the boy being very earnest at last secured a place as a servant.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">It was a new and strange world to Benito who had known only the life of a little village. The work was hard, but he was happy in thinking that now he could help his father and mother. One day the king sent for him and said:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I want you to bring to me a beautiful princess who lives in a land across the sea. Go at once, and if you fail you shall be punished severely."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The boy's heart sank within him, for he did not know what to do. But he answered as bravely as possible, "I will, my lord," and left the king's chamber. He at once set about preparing things for a long journey, for he was determined to try at least to fulfil the command.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">When all was ready Benito started. He had not gone far before he came to a thick forest, where he saw a large bird bound tightly with strings.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Oh, my friend," pleaded the bird, "please free me from these bonds, and I will help you whenever you eall on me."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Benito quickly released the bird, and it flew away calling back to him that its name was Sparrowhawk.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Benito continued his journey till he came to the sea. Unable to find a way of crossing, he stopped and gazed sadly out over the waters, thinking of the king's threat if he failed. Suddenly he saw swimming toward him the King of the Fishes who asked:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Why are you so sad?" </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I wish to cross the sea to find the beautiful Princess," answered the boy.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Well, get on my back," said the Fish, "and I will carry you across."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">So Benito stepped on his back and was carried to the other shore.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Soon he met a strange woman who inquired what it was he sought, and when he had told her she said: </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"The Princess is kept in a castle guarded by giants. Take this magic sword, for it will kill instantly whatever it touches." And she handed him the weapon. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Benito was more than grateful for her kindness and went on full of hope. As he approached the castle he could see that it was surrounded by many giants, and as soon as they saw him they ran out to seize him, but they went unarmed for they saw that he was a mere boy. As they approached he touched those in front with his sword, and one by one they fell dead. Then the others ran away in a panic, and left the castle unguarded. Benito entered, and when he had told the Princess of his errand, she was only too glad to escape from her captivity and she set out at once with him for the palace of the king.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"At the seashore the King of the Fishes was waiting for them, and they had no difficulty in crossing the sea and then in journeying through the thick forest to the palace, where they were received with great rejoicing. After a time the King asked the Princess to become his wife, and she replied:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I will, O King, if you will get the ring I lost in the sea as I was crossing it."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"The King immediately thought of Benito, and sending for him he commanded him to find the ring which had been lost on the journey from the land of the giants.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">It seemed a hopeless task to the boy, but, anxious to obey his master, he started out. At the seaside he stopped and gazed over the waters until, to his great delight, he saw his friend, the King of the Fishes, swimming toward him. When he had been told of the boy's troubles, the great fish said: "I will see if I can help you," and he summoned all his subjects to him. When they came he found that one was missing, and he sent the others in search of it. They found it under a stone so full that it could not swim, and the larger ones took it by the tail and dragged it to the King.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Why did you not come when you were called?" inquired the King Fish.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I have eaten so much that I cannot swim," replied the poor fish.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Then the King Fish, suspecting the truth, ordered it cut open, and inside they found the lost ring. Benito was overjoyed at this, and expressing his great thanks, hastened ivith the precious ring to his master.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The King, greatly pleased, earried the ring to the Princess and said:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Now that I have your ring will you become my wife ?"</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I will be your wife," replied the Princess, "if you will find my earring that I lost in the forest as I was journeying with Benito."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Again the King sent for Benito, and this time he commanded him to find the earring. The boy was very weary from his long journeys, but with no complaint he started out once more. Along the road through the thick forest he searched carefully, but with no reward. At last, tired and discouraged, he sat down under a tree to rest.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Suddenly there appeared before him a mouse of great size, and he was surprised to find that it was the King of Mice.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Why are you so sad?" asked the King Mouse. </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Because," answered the boy, "I cannot find an earring which the Princess lost as we were going through the forest together."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I will help you," said the Mouse, and he summoned all his subjects.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">When they assembled it was found that one little mouse was missing, and the King sent the others to look for him. In a small hole among the bamboo trees they found him, and he begged to be left alone, for, he said, he was so full that he could not walk. Nevertheless they pulled him along to their master, who, upon finding that there was something hard inside the mouse, ordered him cut open; and inside they found the missing earring.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Benito at once forgot his weariness, and after expressing his great thanks to the King Mouse he hastened to the palace with the prize. The King eagerly seized the earring and presented it to the Princess, again asking her to be his wife.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Oh, my King," replied the Princess, "I have one more request to make. Only grant it and I will be your wife forever."</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The King, believing that now with the aid of Benito he could grant anything, inquired what it was she wished, and she replied:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"Get me some water from heaven and some from the lower world, and I shall ask nothing more." </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Once more the King called Benito and sent him on the hardest errand of all.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">The boy went out not knowing which way to turn, and while he was in a deep study his weary feet led him to the forest. Suddenly he thought of the bird who had promised to help him, and he called, "Sparrowhawk!" There was a rustle of wings, and the bird swooped down. He told it of his troubles and it said:</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">"I will get the water for you." </span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Then Benito made two light cups of bamboo which he fastened to the bird's legs, and it flew away. All day the boy waited in the forest, and just as night was coming on the bird returned with both cups full. The one on his right foot, he told Benito, was from heaven, and that on his left was from the lower world. The boy unfastened the cups, and then, as he was thanking the bird, he noticed that the journey had been too much for it and that it was dying. Filled with sorrow for his winged friend, he waited and carefully buried it, and then he hastened to the palace with the precious water.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">When the Princess saw that her wish had been fulfilled she asked the King to eut her in two and pour over her the water from heaven. The King was not able to do this, so she cut herself, and then as he poured the water over her he beheld her grow into the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">Eager to become handsome himself, the King then begged her to pour over him the water from the other cup. He cut himself, and she did as he requested, but immediately there arose a creature most ugly and horrible to look upon, which soon vanished out of sight. Then the Princess called Benito and told him that because he had been so faithful to his master and so kind to her, she chose him for her husband.</span><br />
<span style="color: purple;">They were married amid great festivities and became king and queen of that broad and fertile land. During all the great rejoicing, however, Benito never forgot his parents. One of the finest portions of his kingdom he gave to them, and from that time they all lived in great happiness.</span></div><div class="div2" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #444444;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"> </span></span><b><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Background Information:</span></b></span><br />
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<b><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">1. Why did Benito wanted to leave their house?</span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri;">2. Who helped Benito in crossing the sea?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">3. Where did Benito find the princess?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">4. What was the last request that the princess asked for the king?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">5. How did Benito kill the giants?</span><br />
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</span> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div></div></div></div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-84448377549543727812011-02-11T03:48:00.000-08:002011-03-24T08:07:31.397-07:00MODULE 1:FILIPINO EPICS<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Module 1: Ibalon</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sources: Philippine Literature from Ancient Times to The Present By Teofilo del Castillo y Tuazon and Buenaventura S. Medina, Jr.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> *****************************************************************</span></div><div align="center" class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><img height="308" src="http://www.elaput.org/alamtbi2.jpg" width="320" /></span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">The epic tells the story of three Bicol heroes.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Baltog, a mighty warrior of Batavara, came by chance upon the lush and virginal beauty of Ibalon. Extensive in area, rich in soil, and free form typhoons, Ibalon attracted Baltog's men to found a kingdom. In the course of time, Ibalon became prosperous and peaceful.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">But one day, the peace and prosperity of the land was threatened not by conquering strangers or black men but by a huge man-eating wild boar. The ferocious beast destroyed the crops and killed the people on its path. Vast areas in Ibalon were soon reduced to waste and countless people were either killed or maimed. Baltog stood dumb-founded as he surveyed the depredation wrought on his kingdom.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">One day, Baltog left his home alone, planning to confront his enemy. Under the cover of night, he went to the muddy field to wait for his enemy. Under the cover of night, he went to the muddy field to wait for his enemy.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">After much waiting, when the moon was bright, the man-eating wild boar came snorting, tearing crops as it went along. Baltog hid under the bushes. When the boar came within his reach, he sprang at it like a panther. Man and beast tumbled to the ground in mortal combat. Fortunately, Baltog was able to pin down the beast and, summoning all his strength, he finally subdued the boar. Baltog’s victory put an end to a terror that had ravished his kingdom for a time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ibalon, however, saw few years of peace. One day, huge carabaos followed by winged sharks and giant crocodiles rushed to Ibalon. Every mortal was in fright: death and destruction took a heavy toll. The mighty Baltog could no longer defend his kingdom, for the years had sapped his strength. Defenseless Ibalon had become an easy prey.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Luck, however, was still with Ibalon. On that day, Handiong, a mighty warrior of the neighboring kingdom, happened to pass by Ibalon. Apprised of the plight of the people, Handiong came to their rescue.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Handiong and his brave seasoned men threw themselves at their stampeding and winging wild enemies. For untold hours, Ibalon saw mortal combat. Blood flowed freely over the land and the streams. One by one the beasts were slain. Before sunset, Handiong and his men emerged the victors.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Only one monster escaped Handiong’s mortal wrath; this was Oriol, the serpent who could transform itself into a beautiful woman. Handiong , however, repulsed the advances of the temptress. To save itself from extinction, Oriol struck alliance with Handiong. Through its help, the <i>salimaws</i> or evil spirits of the mountains were routed out. This last victory brought to an end the second threat to Ibalon’s peaceful existence.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Ibalon, under Handiong’s wise administration, became rich and peaceful again. But Handiong was getting on in years and outside his domain, Rabut, was eyeing his kingdom. This monster was far more terrible, for under its spell, mortals could be changed into stones.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Luck again was with Ibalon. Handiong had mighty friend, a young warrior named Bantong.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Bantong, in command of a handful of men, trekked one day into the monster’s lair and found the enemy taking its nap. With cat-like agility, Bantong came near his prey and with a mighty stroke delivered mortal blows at the monster’s neck. The wounded monster writhed in agony and in his struggle for breath, the earth shuddered and cracked and the waters of the sea heaved and rolled landward.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">With the death throes of the monster over, the dust clouds parted and Ibalon underwent great physical change. New islets began to dot the waters near the peninsula; the Inarinan River changed its course; and a dark lake had replaced the mountain at Bato. Finally, a tall and perfect cone reared its head to lord over the levellwd ruins. This perfect cone is now known as the Mayon Volcano.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Thus ends Ibalon.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Teofilo Del Catillo y Tuazon</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Born in Lingayen, Pangasinan.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Graduate of the University of Chicago, 1929.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Took post graduate studies from the University of Chicago and North-western </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Univesrity.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Educator since 1935; taught at Philippine Women’s University, Adamson University, De </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> la Salle College, National Teachers College, and Feati University.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Author of: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> A brief History of <i>Philippine Literature, Lyrics Under Two Flags,</i></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i> The Saga of Jose P. Laurel </i>(with Jose del Castillo)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> <i>Living Biographies</i> (with Thomas, Thomas, and Fosdick), and </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Rodriguez Ang Dakilang Ama</i> (with D.H Soriano, and Luis L. Alfonso).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Bicol Epic Poetry: The Ibalon – An origin tale, the Ibalon tries to explain how man came to be. Much like the story of Adam and Eve; it follows the tale of the first man and woman in the regions Aslon and Ibalon (now Camarines, Sorsogon, Catanduanes and Albay).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Literary Concepts:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Surrealism: Life goes beyond the "real" to the "super real"including the world of dreams and unconscious and emphasizing on spontaneity feeling and sincerity, closely linked to ROMANTICISM.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Conflict:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> The conflict of the story was when the heroes of Ibalon fought against monsters before establishing their own village and learning to farm. The Ibalon also has an account reminiscent of the blood story, where rains poured for days and almost destroyed the whole land. </span><br />
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</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">1. </span><span class="Apple-style-span"> When did Handiong and his men emerged the victors.?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">2. Who was the</span><span class="Apple-style-span"> mighty warrior of the neighboring kingdom, happened to pass by Ibalon.?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">3. Why did </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Baltog left his home alone?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">4. Who was the o</span><span class="Apple-style-span">nly one monster escaped Handiong’s mortal wrath?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">5. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">This perfect cone is now known as the _____________?</span></span><br />
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<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Module 1:Hinilawod</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sources: <a href="http://hinilawod.wordpress.com/the-story/">http://hinilawod.wordpress.com/the-story/</a></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Hinilawod</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img 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" 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mQSAozKLOjOgllLMos6WdBNmTzKEOUVWs/9LQb3JO1rgb7+CC3KMyq06j7ZgBzgylmfFsszvOncgtylmVUZ+bd9j3H3zUlMRN5m+3ZsgnlEqPMjMgRQkShBk0lYCEIJQukIQCaSEDQhCBoCEIGuShCBhNCEDCYQhA0kIQclCEIEUkIQMISQg6CChCAQhCBoQhA00IQclCEIP//Z" 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<h1 style="margin: 18px 0px 0px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><div style="display: inline ! important; line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></div></span></span></span></span></h1><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">After the flood waters subsided, Paubari and Alunsina returned to the plains secretly. They settled near the mouth of the Halawod river.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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 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?”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.”</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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.</span></span></div><div style="line-height: 17px; margin: 10px 0px 15px; padding: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">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</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Hinilawod is one of the many pieces of oral literature passed from one generation to the next, changed and morphed by the <i>mananalaysay</i> (storyteller) to one degree or another as he told it to his audience. </span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"></span> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></span> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> Hinilawod was first discovered “by accident” in 1955, when F. Landa Jocano, Filipino anthropologist became interested in native folklore. He traveled the hinterlands of his home province, Panay, with two colleagues collecting folk songs, stories, and riddles. It was during one of those trips to the upland barrios of Lambunao, Maasin, Janiuay, and Calinog in Iloilo that his attention was called to a long and popular tale called Hinilawod. Portions of the story were sung to him and his colleague by an old man called Ulang Udig. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Returning the following year, together with a radio technician from Central Philippine University, he then recorded a portion of the story on tape in 1956.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> However, when he returned, in 1957 to make a recording of the complete story, Ulang Udig refused to cooperate . Weeks later, he was introduced to a mountain singer named Hugan-an, who, after much cajoling, allowed herself to be tape recorded as she recounted both her story and the Hinilawod story. It took three weeks to complete the recording of the 30 hour epic poem. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">A concise version of the story of Hinilawod can be found in the book, Philippine Mythology, authored by the Filipino anthropologist, Dr. F. Landa Jocano.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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</span></span></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Who married Dumalapdap?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">2. What was the reason behind Datu Paubari's happiness?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">3. Why did Balanapdap killed Balanakon?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">4. After the wedding,where did Humadapnon went?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">5. Who captured Humadapnon's heart?</span><br />
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<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Module 7: Biag ni Lam-ang</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Reported by: Cielo Jane M. Miake</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">Sources: http://www.shvoong.com and Philippine Literature of Development of Communication Arts and Humanities College of Arts and Sciences Southwestern University</span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><h1 style="text-align: center;">Biag ni Lam-ang (Life of Lam-ang)</h1><div align="center" style="text-align: center;"><img class="rg_hi" data-height="256" data-width="185" height="256" id="rg_hi" 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" 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</div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: justify;">The story dates its origin during the pre-Spanish period of the Philipines. It is one of the greatest Ilocano epic of the pre-colonial literature of the country. It is originally written in the Ilocano language but as time goes it has been translated to different languages. The story is set in the Northern Provinces of the Philippines. The story is a mix of adventure and romance with exciting and unpredictable outcomes. The story revolves around Lam-ang who is a very extraordinary guy. He started to talk at a very young age and was the one who choose his own name. His adventure began when his father, Don Juan, went to a battle but never came back. At the age of barely nine months he went to search for his father in the highlands where his father was said to go. Knowing that he is blessed with extraordinary well being, her mother, Namongan, allowed her to go. Lam-ang then went of to search for his father leaving his grieving mother. When Lam-ang reached the place, he was enraged upon seeing his father’s head on top of a bamboo pole that was stuck in the ground which was a scene that he had dreamed before reaching the place. Lam-ang then demanded to know the reason why did that happen to his father but he did not receive an answer, instead he was demanded by the chieftain of the village to go or else he would receive the same faith like his father. Instead of running Lam-ang bravely fought with the chieftain and its tribesmen. Lam-ang won the fight with less effort that serves as his revenge for his father. The epic poem also presented some humorous points. As Lam-ang was on his way home he passed by a river and then decided to have a dip. The dirt from his body caused the death of fishes, crabs, shrimps in the river. She was gladly attended by some of the women who saw him. Lam-ang upon reaching home decided to court his love interest, Ines. Despite his mother’s disapproval he followed his heart and set again another journey for her love. His adventures had never been that easy. He faced one of Ines’ suitor and monsters. But he won the battles with ease. Upon reaching the place, Lam-ang drew the attention of many and impressed Ines. He was helped by his magical pets: a rooster, a hen and a dog. Lam-ang’s rooster flapped its wings and a house toppled. This amazed everybody, especially Ines. Then, Lam-ang’s dog barked and the house aroused. Being invited in the lunch of the family of Ines, Lam-ang impressed Ines’ parents with his wealth and upon returning he gave to the family two golden ships. Their wedding was held with a lot of feastings. However Lam-ang’s story never ended there. He was sent to catch a gigantic shell but unfortunately she was swallowed by a shark, which he had earlier premonitioned. Her bones were recovered and Lam-ang was resurrected with the help of his magical pet. Ines was ordered by the rooster to wrap the bones with her tapis while the hen flaps its wings and the dog growling. In an instant Lam-ang happily rejoined his wife. The epic poem showed some of the earlier customs, culture, tradition and belief of the Ilocano people of the Philippines The story presented some of the qualities of the people of the Ilocos region- adventurous, hardy, and brave as strongly portrayed by Lam-ang. The epic poem presented the fact that life is full of trials and problems. One must be strong and just accept the reality that it is already part of life.<br />
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</div><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> </span><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Background Information:</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: small;">BIAG NI LAM-ANG (This epic is believed to have originated in La Union, composed in the seventeenth or eighteenth century by an anonymous poet. It was put in written form by Pedro Bukaneg, now considered the greatest Ilocano poet. The Christian elements in the narrative are supposed to have been his insertions. There are four versions of the Ilocano epic, one containing about 194 stanzas.)</span></span><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;">Confirmation of Learning:</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">1. Where is the setting of the story?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> 2. Why did Lam-ang fight with the Igorots? </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> 3. How did the battle end?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> 4. What happened when Lam-ang fished for rarang?</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"> 5. How did Doña Inez know that Lam-ang was dead? How was he revived? </span></span><b><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; font-size: large;"> </span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
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</span></div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-53723331108137692222011-02-09T23:47:00.000-08:002011-02-09T23:47:14.803-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4wxmuOQqy5nJSscA1r6HUhj4J3KmFroYIneo6tTUT5QAlqjJXnBwtd7qWqUTqbLkuo5psL2B63twtyxAnyH-Y-atC7DBAdxZN3mhYRj61tVnrcHGVIz7wBVHy1ftHB424Qj06jn7_Mvn/s1600/pic.php.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS4wxmuOQqy5nJSscA1r6HUhj4J3KmFroYIneo6tTUT5QAlqjJXnBwtd7qWqUTqbLkuo5psL2B63twtyxAnyH-Y-atC7DBAdxZN3mhYRj61tVnrcHGVIz7wBVHy1ftHB424Qj06jn7_Mvn/s1600/pic.php.jpeg" /></a></div>tsiloohhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18193565858921885706noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2845506939049389006.post-31737073244217112422011-01-17T20:28:00.001-08:002011-01-17T22:27:20.519-08:00<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> </b><b> THE LEARNER AS A UNIQUE INDIVIDUAL</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> Constructivism started as a theory in Russian Art during the Middle Ages where students in the Arts builds their own ideas and concepts about an issue or phenomenon and they reflect them in their art works.</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Constructivism is also a philosophy of learning founded on the premise that, by reflecting on our experiences, we construct our own understanding of the world we live in. Each of us generates our own “rules” and “mental models,” which we use to make sense of our experiences. Learning, therefore, is simply the process of adjusting our mental models to accommodate new experiences.</span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> Education is to seek out its meaning. Consequently, learning must set up with the questions around which the learners are enthusiastically trying to construct its meaning. Therefore, the learning process focuses on primary concepts, not isolated facts. In order to teach well, we must understand the mental models that students use to perceive the world and the assumptions they make to support those models. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The purpose of learning is for an individual to construct his or her own meaning, not just memorize the “right” answers and regurgitate someone else’s meaning. Since education is naturally interdisciplinary, the only valuable way to measure learning is to make the assessment part of the learning process, ensuring it provides students with information on the quality of their learning. </span></b></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> I simply agree with this theory for the reason that if the students are going to choose only the information’s that can be integrated with their experiences it will encourage them to arrive at their own version of the truth, influenced by their background. If the students will be given the chance to choose what they are going to paint it will help them to make things easier because it is their own choice. It is more comfortable for them to make their own paintings because there are no criteria of what they are going to paint. If the instructors are going to give such thing the students will find it hard to decide what they are going to paint. What if the teacher will ask them to paint which is very far from their ability? The students cannot make their works as its best because they already know within their selves that they really cannot make it. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> <b> So I think it is more trouble-free for the students if the teacher will give them the choices of what they are going to paint. And they will also put their best upon making the paintings because they already experienced it. If the student prefers his happiest moment to be painted, the result of it will also be fine-looking since it was his happiest moment. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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