Long ago in Old Ayudhya, there lived a man named Nai Hah Tong, who dreamed of turning copper into gold. His wife, Nang Song Sai, had little faith in magic. She believed in the wealth of nature and richness of the earth. When her husband boasted, "Someday, we will be the richest people in Ayudhya," she listened patiently; however when all their tical had been used for experiments, she decided something would have to be done about her husband's great expectation.
She said to her husband, "Nai Hah Tong, you have experimented with copper and a monkey's paw, copper and a lizard's tail. You have polished copper with the gold stripe of fur cut from the tiger's skin, but the copper did not turn into gold. Why don't you give up this dream and go to work like other men?"
Her husband said, "Mai chai, that is not right. with each experiment my magic has grown stronger."
"Mai pen rai, never mind, my husband, you must do what you must do," she answered.
The next day, however, she went to see her father and asked him what to do about Nai Hah Tong's unreasonable search for gold.
Her wise, old father did not seem disturbed He said, "Pai, go now, and say nothing of this meeting I have a plan to help your husband." The next day, Nai Hah Tong received an invitation to dine with his father-in-law. At mealtime Nai Hah Tong was there on the mat-covered floor beside the elderly gentleman.
The old man said, "My son, since you desire power and a long life, you sit facing the east. I seek honor and dignity, so I shall sit facing west."
"Chai, yes, my father, I always follow the old belief. I never sit facing north when I eat, for I fear the bad luck such an action would cause, but sometimes, I eat facing south because I would like to have esteem and respect."
The old man smiled and nodded in agreement.
A servant interrupted the conversation by placing a large tray bearing bowls of white rice, hot chicken curry, roasted turtle eggs, vegetables, and namprick, a spicy sauce made from beetles and fish paste. Another tray held bowls of fresh water for washing, cloths for drying, and a lime scent for perfuming the hands. The men ate from the same bowls, using only the fingers of their right hand They did not speak very much while eating because the delicious food demanded their complete attention. The curry was spicy, yet sweet with the added milk of the coconut. The rice was fluffy and fresh from the top of the pot. The namprick bit the tongue, but it was good and made the mild mild drink more tasty by contrast.
When the meal was over, Nai Hah Tong felt as content as a baby gibbon sitting upon his mother's lap.
"Ah, we are lucky for fish in the water and rice on the land," he said.
"Chai, my son, but there is more to life than good food. I have asked you to come to see me this evening because I need your help Like you, my son, I have been looking for a way of turning copper into gold. Now I know how to do it."
Nai Hah Tong drew in his breath and made a long, long whistling sound. "Oh, it's too good to be true! I can't believe it!" he said.
"Listen carefully, Nai Hah Tong. I have all things I need for the miracle except one additional ingredient Because I am an old man, I don't think I can work hard enough and long enough to get it."
"Mai pen rai, never mind, Father, I will get whatever you need," Nai Hah Tong replied.
"That is not as easy as you might think, my son. I must have two kilos of soft fuzz gathered from the underside of the banana leaf, and the fuzz must be plucked carefully from our very own banana trees. Furthermore I know the fuzz will not perform the miracle, unless it comes from a tree planted when the magical words were spoken."
"I can say the magic words, and I can raise the banana trees. I will collect two kilos of banana fuzz for you," said Nai Hah Tong.
The old man smiled and said, "I know you can do this, my son, because I have faith in you. I will loan you the money to buy the land you will need to raise banana trees."
The young man bowed low to the older In the hearts of each of them, there was a feeling of faith and trust.
Nai Hah Tong was determined to prepare his fields in a way which would be most pleasing to all the gods who might influence his crops. For this reason he went to his village wat and asked guidance from the priest who knew how to look at the gleaming stars and interpret the wisdom of the night sky. The priest's saffron robe glowed in the moonlight. His bare feet made no sound as he walked from the wat to the open court. The glittering stars seemed to light the sky as the fireflies lit the darkness. The priest gazed at the stars as if they were the eyes of heaven.
Nai Hah Tong waited patiently for the priest. The only sound the heard was the lonely call of the gecko lizard hiding in a crack of the stucco wall of the wat. He counted the lizard's croaks nung, song, sam, see, ha, hok, jet.
"Ah, it is a rare sign of good fortune. The gecko calls seven times, bringing me good luck."
The priest returned to his small, bare cell and opened a worn-out folding book. He said, "Since you were born in the year of the Ox, you must begin plowing on Wednesday, the tenth day of the fourth lunar month. Now do not forget to begin when the sun is midway between the horizon and the high point of noon."
"Chai, chai, yes, yes. I shall do as you say."
The priest continued, "Before this auspicious hour, you must build a shrine tot he guardian spirit of the field, Phra Phum. Give him an offering of the best rice. Lay it flat on a shining green banana leaf and serve him graciously. At the north corner of your field, you must place three triangular while flags. As you mount them on bamboo poles, ask the blessing of the goddess who makes the banana tree fertile with the yellow fruit. do not forget to praise the Farm Goddess and do remember to ask Phra Phum's blessing. As these gods to keep hungry locusts and nibbling worms far away from your fields."
"Is there anything else that I must do"? aske Nai Hah Tong.
"Chat, you will ask your village chieftain to guide your plow three times around the field. when this is done, again honor Phra Phum with the sent of incense and the beauty of flowers plucked by your own hands.
"All shall be done exactly as you desire," said Nai Hah Tong.
He followed the priest's suggestion and added one more touch of magic. with the planting of each banana tree, he uttered the special secret words given to him by his father-in-law.
The gecko had predicted good luck, so Nai Hah tong was not surprised when his banana plants grew tall, sturdy, and heavy with blossoms. Not very long he had thousands of firm yellow bananas and myriads of shiny leaves with a soft layer of fluffy fuzz on the underside.
Each morning Nai Hah Tong gave Phra Phum an offering of the rice from the top of the pot. Then he carefully collected the soft fuzz from the underside of the banana leaves and stored it in a pottery jar. Each morning his wife, Nang Song Sai, gave Phra Phum flowers and incense. Then she collected the beautiful yellow bananas, took them to market, sold them, and placed her tical in a pottery jar.
After three lunar years had passed, Nai Hah Tong had a half kilo of banana fuzz. His wife had three pottery jars full of tical. Strangely Nai Hah tong was so intent upon collecting and storing the fuzz that he paid no attention to his wife's profitable labor.
One day Nang Song Sai's father came to ask if he would have to wait much longer for the two kilos of banana fuzz. When he saw the pottery jar partially full, he appeared worried. "I am an old man. If you don't get more banana fuzz, I shall not live to see copper turned into gold."
"Mai pen rai, never mind, Father. I will borrow more money to buy more land. Then there shall be more banana trees and I can collect even more banana fuzz," said Nai Hah Tong.
Now Nai Hah Tong and his faithful wife worked for many years. The moon rose, waxed, and waned, days after days until finally time arrived when each had accomplished a goal. Nang Song Sai had collected many jars full of tical. Nai Hah Tong had two jars full of banana fuzz. As you can imagine, it as an especially happy day Nai Hah Tong shouted to his wife, "Run, run and bring your father here Today he can test his magic. If all goes well, we shall see red copper grow until it is gold as the sun of Siam."
When the old man arrived, Nai Ha Tong bowed very low before him and presented him with the treasured banana fuzz. The old man said, "Arise, my son, today you will be a rich man."
Nai Hah Tong trembled nervously. Little rivers of perspiration ran down his face His fingers shook like banana leaves in the wind. The old man, on the other hand, was not in a hurry. He turned to his daughter and calmly asked, "Have you made any money from the sales of bananas?"
"Oh, yes, chai, chai, my father," she said.
Nai Hah Tong thought his father-in-law must be out of his mind. when the copper was waiting to be turned into gold, why worry about the sale of a few bananas?
Nang Song Sai brought in a try piled high with golden tical and placed it before her husband.
"Ah!" said her father. "Now, Nai Hah Tong, just look at all this money that has been made by following my directions. My son, I cannot turn copper into gold, but you and my daughter have harvested gold from the sale of your bananas. You cared for the young plants until they produced delicious fruit. Is not that just a great miracle as turning copper into gold?"
Nai Hah Tong did not answer because he felt like a fool, but he was a very rich fool.
His clever wife knelt before him to show her love and respect. when she arose she said, "My husband, you are a master magician. With the help of the gods you cleared land. You cared for the banana plants with the same loving care we give our son. You made the gods happy, and they rewarded you with the golden fruit of the banana plant."
"Mai chai, that is not right, my clever wife. Do not put a story under your arm and walk away with it. It is your father who is the master magician He has made his honorable daughter and worthless son-in-law the riches people in Ayudhya."
Nai Hah Tong looked at the meaningless pile of banana fuzz mounted high on the table under the smiling face of his father-in-law. Right there and then it is said, Nai Hah Tong mixed the banana fuzz with a little water and carefully molded a statue of the old man.
"What are you doing?" asked his wife.
"I am making a statue of your father. I hope our sons and our son's sons will treasure it as an heirloom. Each time they look upon it, they will be reminded of my foolishness and your father's wisdom.
Source
Lapid, Milagros and Serrano, Josephine. English Communication Arts and Skills through Afro-Asian Literature, 6th ed. Phoenix Publishing House, Inc. 2010.
Long ago when judges ruled in Israel, a man named Elimelech from Bethlehem left the country because of famine and moved to the land of Moab. With him were his wife, Naomi, and his two sons, Mahlon and Chilion. During the time of their residence there, Elimelech died, and Naomi was left with her two sons.
These young men, Mahlon and Chilion, married girld from Moab, Orpah and Ruth. Later, both men died so that Naomi was left alone, without her husband or sons. She decided to return to Israel with her daughters-in-law, "Why don't you return to your parents' home instead of coming with me? And may the Lord reward you for your faithfulness to your husbands and me. And my he bless you with another happy marriage." Then she kissed them, and thy all broke down and cried.
"No," they said. "We want to go with you to your people."
But Naomi replied, "It is better for you to return to your own people. Do I have younger sons who could grow up to be your husband? No, my daughters, return to your parents' homes, for I am too old to have a husband. And even if that were possible and I become pregnant tonight, and bore sons, would you wait for them to grow up? No, of course not, my daughters: oh, how I grieve for you that the Lord has punished me in a way that injures you."
And again they cried together, and Orpah kissed her mother-in-law goodbye ad returned to her childhood home; but Ruth insisted on staying with Naomi.
"See," Naomi said to her, "your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods; you should do the same."
But Ruth replied, "Don't make me leave you, fo I want to go wherever you go and to live wherever you live; your people shall be my people, and your God shall be my God; I want to die where you die and be buried there. May the Lord do terrible things to me if I allow anything but death to separate us."
And when Naomi saw that Ruth had made up her mind and could not be persuaded otherwise, she stopped urging her. So they both came to Bethlehem, and the entire village was stirred by their arrival.
"Is it really Naomi"? the women asked.
But she told them, "Don't call me Naomi. Call me Mara, (Naomi means "pleasant," Mara means "bitter.") for Almighty God has dealt me his bitter blows. I went out full, and the Lord has brought me home empty; why should you call me Naomi when the Lord has turned his back on me and sent such calamity?"
Their return from Moab and arrival in Bethlehem was at the beginning of the barley harvest.
Now Naomi had an in-law in Bethlehem who was a very wealthy man. His name is Boaz.
One day Ruth said to Naomi, "Perhaps I can go out into the field of some king to glean the free grain behind the reapers."
And Naomi said, "All right, dear daughter. Go ahead."
So she did. And as it happened, the field where she found herself belonged to Boaz, the relative of Naomi's husband.
Boaz arrived from the city while she was there. After exchanging greetings with the reapers he said to his foreman, "Who's that girl over there?"
And the foreman replied, "It's that girl from the land of Moab who came back with Naomi. She asked me this morning if she could pick the grains dropped by the reapers, and she has been at it ever since except for a few minutes' rest over there in the shade."
Boaz went over and talked to her. "Listen, my child," he said to her. "Stay right behind my women workers. I have warned the young men not to bother you; when you are thirsty, go and help yourself to the water."
She thanked him warmly. "How can you be so kind to me?" she asked. "You must know I am only a foreigner." "Yes, I know," Boaz replied, "and I also know about all the love and kindness you have shown your mother-in-law since the death of your husband, and how you left your father and mother in your own land and come here to live among strangers. May the Lord God of Israel, under whose wings you have come to take refuge, bless you for it."
"Oh, than you, sir," she replied. "You are so good to me, and I'm not even one of your workers!"
At lunchtime Boaz called to her, "Come and eat with us." So she sat with his reapers, and he gave her more food than she could eat. And when she went back to work again, Boaz told his young men to let her glean right among the sheaves without stopping her, and to snap off some heads of barley and drop them on purpose for her to glean and not to make any remarks. So she worked there all day, and in the evening when she had beaten out the barley she had gleaned, it came to a whole bushel! She carried it back into the city and gave it to her mother-in-law, with what was left of her lunch.
"So much!" Naomi exclaimed. "Where in the world did you glean today? Praise the Lord for whoever was kind to you."
So Ruth told her mother-in-law all about it and mentioned that the owner of the field was Boaz.
"Praise the Lord for a man like that! God has continued his kindness to us as well as to your dead husband!" Naomi cried excitedly. "Why, that man is one of our closest relatives!" "Well," Ruth told her, "he said I could come back and stay close behind his reapers until the entire field is harvested."
"This is wonderful!" Naomi exclaimed. "Do as he has said. Stay with his girls right through the whole harvest; you will be safer there than in any other field."
So Ruth gleaned with them until the end of the barley harvest, and then the wheat harvest, too.
One day Naomi said to Ruth. "My dear, isn't it time that I try to find a husband for you and get you happily married again? The man I'm thinking of is Boaz!"
Naomi told Ruth that Boaz was their nearest male relative, and he was not married. It was a Jewish custom for a widow to marry her husband's closest male relative.
So one day when Boaz was alone, Ruth went to him. "Who are you?" Boaz asked.
"It's I, sir - Ruth," she replied. "Make me your wife according to God's law, for you are my close relative."
"Thank God for a girl like you!" he exclaimed. "I know that you are very kind to Naomi. Don't worry about a thing, my child; I'll handle all the details, for everyone knows what a wonderful person you are. But there is one problem. IT's true that I am a close relative, but there is someone else who is more closely related to you than I am."
"Give me your shawl," he continued. Then he tied up a bushel and a half of barley as a present for her mother-in-law and laid it on her back. Then she returned to the city.
"Well, what happened, dear?" Naomi asked her when she arrived home. She told Naomi everything and gave her the barley from Boaz and mentioned his remark that she mustn't go home without a present.
Then Naomi said, "Just be patient until we hear what happens, for Boaz won't rest until he has followed through on this. He'll settle it today."
So Boaz went down tot he marketplace and found the relative he had mentioned.
"Say, come over here," he called to him. "I want to talk to you a minute."
So they sat down together. Boaz called for ten of the chief men of the village and asked to sit as witnesses.
Boaz said to his relative, "You know Naomi, who came back to us from Moab. She is selling our brother Elimelech's property. I felt that I should speak to you about it so that you can buy it if you wish. With these respected men as witnesses. If you want it, let me know right away for if you don't take it, I will. You have the first right to purchase it and I am next."
The man replied. "All right, I'll buy it."
Then Boaz told him, "Your purchase of the land from Naomi requires your marriage to Ruth, so that she can have children to carry on her husband's name and to inherit the land."
"Then I can't do it," the man replied. "For her son would become an heir to my property too. You buy it."
In those days it was the custom in Israel for a man transferring a right of purchase to pull off his sandal and hand it to the other party: this publicly validated the transaction. So, as the man said to Boaz, "You buy it for yourself," he drew off his sandal.
Then Boaz said to the witnesses and to the crowd standing around, "You have seen that today I have bought all the property of Elimelech. Chilion, and Mahlon from Naomi, and that with it I have purchased Ruth the Moabitess, the widow of Mahlon, to by my wife, so that she can have a son to carry on the family name of her husband."
And all the people standing there and the witnesses replied, "We are witnesses. May the Lord make this woman, who has now come into your home, as fertile as Rachel and Leah, from whom all the nations of Israel descended! May you be a great and successful man in Bethlehem and may the descendants of the Lord will give you form this young woman be as numerous and honorable as those of our ancestor Pharez, the son of Tamar and Judah."
So Boaz married Ruth, and when he slept with her, the Lord gave her a son.
And the women of the city said to Naomi, "Bless the Lord who has given you this little grandson; may he be famous in Israel. May he restore your youth and take care of you in your old age; for he is the son of your daughter-in-law who loves you so much, and who has been kind to your sons."
Naomi took care of the baby, and the neighbor women said, "Now, at last Naomi has a son again!"
And they named him Obed. He was the father of Jesse and grandfather of King David.
Source:
Lapid, Milagros and Serrano, Josephine. English Communicaiton Arts and Skills through Afro-Asian Literature, 6th edition. Phoenix Publishing House Inc.
The Ramayana relates the story of two powerful races, the Kosalas and the Videhas. Dasa-ratha, the king of the Kosalas, had four sons, the oldest of whom, Rama, is the hero of the epic. Teh other sons were Bharat, Lakshman, and Satrughna. Janak, the king of the Videhas, had a daughter named Sita, who was miraculously born of the earth and who is the heroine of the epic.
Janak orders a severe test, an archery contest, for the hand of his daughter. Suitors from far and near demonstrate their skill in archery but leave disappointed. Rama succeeds and wins the peerless Sita for his wife. The two brothers of Rama marry a sister and a cousin of Sita. The three brothers return to Kosalas and are received joyfully by the people. Preparations are made for the consecration of Rama as future king of the Kosalas.
In the meantime, an intrigue developed in the place of King Dasa-ratha. Kaikeyi, the mother of Bharat, became jealous of the honor conferred on Kausalya, the mother of Rama, and plotted against Rama. She went to the old king, Dasa-ratha, and reminded him of a certain promise he had made her when he was ill - that he would give her any boon she wanted. She requested that Rama be exiled for fourteen years in the forest of Dandak and that her son Bharat be made regent king.
Dasa-ratha was shocked and saddened over her request, but he had no recourse except to grant her wish. The next morning, Dasa-ratha proclaimed the banishment of Rama and the elevation of Bharat as king regent.
The faithful wife Sita and the loving brother Lashman accompanied Rama in his exile, while the loyal people of the city of Ayodia followed their exiled prince as far as the banks of the Tamasa river, where they halted on the first night.
Rama and his wife and Lakshman stole away at night to escape the citizens who wanted to follow them. Their wanderings during the following days, going deeper and deeper into the forest, are described beautifully in the poem. Three thousand years have passed, but every step of this supposed journey is annually reenacted by thousands of devoted pilgrims in India. Rama and Sita still live in the hearts of millions of faithful men and women in this vast country.
Rama and his wife and his brother crossed the Ganges River, penetrating deeper into the wilderness of the forest until they came to the hermitage of Valmiki, the reputed author of the epic. The whole neighborhood of this hermitage is called Rama's country. Every headland has some legend; every cave is connected with Rama's name; some of the wild fruits are even called Sita-phal because these fruits were the reputed food of the exiles. Thousands upon thousands of Indians visit this spot as a holy pilgrimage. Round the hill is a footpath upon which the people walk with naked feet and with pious devotion.
In Ayodia, Dasa-ratha grieved so much over banished Rama that he soon died. The story now moved to Bharat who refused the throne reserved for him. He joined Rama in the forest and implored him to return, stating that with his father's death, surely Rama had been released from the sentence of exile. This is one of the most impressive parts of the epic. Rama told his brother that death did not release a son's promise to his father.
"But I may not," answered Rama, "seek Ayodia's
ancient throne,
For righteous father's mandate dutious son may not
disown;
And I may not, gentle brother, break the word of
promise given
To a king and to a father who is now a saint in heaven!"
Bharat made a passionate plea for Rama to return and rule Kosalas but all in vain. Bharat then took Rama's sandals to place them on the throne as testimony to the people that he was ruling in Rama's name. Rama then penetrated deeper into the Dandak forest so that his friends and relatives would not seek him in exile.
Rama wandered from Northern India and reached Southern India. He built his forest hermitage in the wilderness that is now within a hundred miles of modern Bombay. There he lived with Sita and Lakshman in peace and serenity for a few years.
This ideal existence was interrupted when Raksha, a princess, fell in love with Rama. He rejected her in scorn. He offered Lakshman to the passion-blinded Princess Raksha.
Rama heard her wicked purpose and a scornful smile repressed.
To the foul and forward female thus these mocking words were addressed:
List, O passion-smitten maiden, Sita is my honored wife.
With a rival loved and cherished, cruel were thy wedded life!
But no consort follows Laskhman, peerless is his comely face,
And he leads no wife or consort to his darksome woodland grove,
With no rival to thy passion, seek his ample-hearted love.
The wicked princess offered her love to Lakshman who mocked her and told her to go back to Rama. Indignant and revengeful, the princess went to her brother, Ravan, the monster king who ruled over monsters of various forms. These were the dwellers of Ceylon. Ravan sent a beautiful deer to tempt Rama and Lakshman away from the hermitage, and in their absence he stole Sita.
The second part of the poem deals with Rama's search for Sita and the long war with Ravan that ended in the recovery of Sita. The epic ends with the trial by fire to which Sita submitted to prove her stainless virtue during her captivity by Ravan. She returned with her lord and with Lakshman in an aerial car that Rama had won from the gods. As Rama traveled from Southern India to Northern India, the poem gives a bird's eye view of the whole continent of India in beautiful nature descriptions that make this part almost a travelogue.
When Sinag-Tala was only two-and-a half days old, her withered grandmother came. And she placed in the child's hand a fresh lily and in the other, a small, pallid pearl.
"Sinag-Tala shall grow soft and delicate like a lily," the grandmother smiled toothlessly," and pearls she shall admire, pearls she shall love. Someday, when she is grown-up, she will own priceless pearls taken from oysters living in the blue seas of faraway Magindanao."
Over two hundred silver moons had passed since then; the talisay and camagong trees had grown taller and stouter. And the first part of the prophecy came true.
"Lily by the river" she was admiringly called by the village youths.
She would only smile at them and say: "But I am not beautiful." For to the village maiden, to be beautiful one must have strings of lustrous pearls. Yes, pearls that would caress her graceful neck and follow the tender curve of her young, shapely breast. But she did not have them. she had only the tiny, pallid one given her by the old, prophesying grandmother.
And thus, from the time Sinag-Tala was born, the talisay and camagong trees had blossomed and frutified sixteen times, and the village urchins she had played with when she was a small girl were not grown to barangay warriors with muscles of steel and chests of iron. Ai! ai! Sixteen flower seasons had passed since first she came and still she had no pearls - only that little pale one.
But one morning their sawali door rustled. Then slowly it opened. The head of an aliping namamahay - house slave - showed.
"Sinag-Tala, the basket-weaver, daughter of Pirang Kawayan, is wanted by Lakambini, daughter of the rajah, chief of the Maynilad clan."
"Lakambini wants me?" the girl laid down her work. "She desires me - why?"
"I know not but she orders you to come soon," said the slave and withdrew.
And Sinag-Tala went, walked through grassy paths, under the shady palm trees, till she reached the rajah's house.
"Weave, you, two beautiful baskets for me," said Lakambini with the thin arms and the flat breasts.
The rajah's daughter toyed with her string of lustrous pearls - priceless sea gems brought by wily Moros from their faraway land. And Sinag-Tala's eyes glowed with wonder, and her lips slightly paled with desire. If she could only have gems like them.
"Need you those baskets soon, favored of the moon?" she asked.
"Hurry not their making," the rajah's daughter replied. "They must be strong and lovely, for they shall be gifts to the mother of Walang Gulat, son of a chief, he who rules the Pasigan barangay."
"And who is this Walang Gulat ...?"
"How foolish!" Lakambini laughed as her color deepened "You delight me with your innocence. Go you now, inquisitive one!"
So Sinag-Tala left. She went to the riverside to gather bamban reeds and young bamboo joints to be used in the basket weaving. And all the while she thought of the pearls adorning Lakambini's dark neck and flat, unappealing breasts. If she could only wear them. Ah, how much better still if she owned them!
She parted the bushes which brushed at her face and scratched her soft cheeks. The bambans grew in a marshy site; she would lose her balance if she leaned any farther over the water for them.
"Girl with the slender body," a voice sounded near, "wish you a fall into that stream?"
She turned. Ah! Magiting, the fisher of the deep, a warrior from the Pasigan clan. He paddled nearer in his small boat.
"Weaver Pasigan braves rave so much about, you want those bambans?"
"I need them," said Sinag-Tala, blushing prettily.
The banca drifted neare the long reeds. A bolo splashed many times in the water, bamban shoots were held out to her. She flashed a smile at him gratefully.
"Lilies you should gather, nilad floweres to adorn your hair."
She liked Magiting's word of admiration.
She gathered the bamban reeds and tied them with wild creepers.
"Must you be going"? said the young man who had moored his boat, and stood beside her. "those reeds are heavy, let me carry them for you."
"You say you have seen them... together?" Lakambini, owner of the pearls was pale.
"I see them... always," the female house slave said to her mistress. "Every afternoon when the shadows of the palm trees are longer."
"What have they been saying to each other? What did you hear?"
"They speak not much," the slave tattled. "They look only at one another. And Walang Gulat frequently holds Sinag-Tala and..."
"No, no! Don't go on!" Lakambini clutched at her pearls convulsively. "I don't want to hear about it anymore!" But then she screeched at the cowering bundle of humanity!
"Alipin - slave! Did I not tell you to get nearer, to hear what they were saying?"
"I did. I hid myself in the bushes," came the frightened reply. "And I heard him say that two Pasigan nobles would thrust his spear at the stairs of Pirang Kawayan's hut."
Walang Gulat wanted to marry Sinag-Tala, that common basketweaver! Why, it could not be!
"Go," she ordered her slave. "Call you Sinag-Tala. Tell her to come with the baskets I told her to weave."
Awih! Yes, when Sinag-Tala came, she, Lakambini, would tell her that the baskets were no longer wanted. Flirting along the riverside? How brazen of that girl! Should she...? Cheh! no, ten times no!
And Lakambini took off her pearls - they felt oppressive, those round pellets from the blue waters of Magindanao. They felt cold against her heaving, tumultuous breast. Carelessly she flung the glittering string into a bronze casket that stood on a table of camagong.
-ลลลลลล-
There was a presentiment of evil in the morning air. The sky was overcast; and more stubborn clouds were beginning to gather. The village of Maynilad was not happy that day. for the drums were beating weirdly, announcing that an ordeal would soon take place.
Five old heads of the village, the wise hukom - judges - sat in a semicircle before the village populace. The oldest rose and raised his tattooed arm. there was silence around; nothing could be heard except the faint barking of dogs in the distance and the rustle of the wind through coconut tops.
"People of this barangay," the old man's voice echoed across the river," Lakambini's pearls, the priceless heirloom handed down from mother to daughter for generations, have been stolen. Many days of search have passed; but they have not been found. And Lakambini therefore charges Sinag-Tala, daughter of Pirang Kawayan, with the theft of the jewels."
"The lost Magindanao pearls were left in a bronze casket," explained the judge. "And the box was on the camagong table in Lakambini's room the day Sinag-Tala came to deliver the baskets."
Men shifted their weights uneasily.
"Sinag-Tala, swear you that you did not steal the jewels?"
Again the deadly silence punctuated by the crackling of burning branches and the greedy simmering of the water in the huge cauldron.
Then came the trembling hesitant voice of Sinag-Tala: "If I did take the pearls of Lakambini, then may the hungry crocodiles swallow me and the flames scorch me!"
Two slaves, also accused, likewise swore by the memories of their dead forefathers, by the gigantic aswangs that roost on balete tops, and by the terrible beings that prowl about on dark, stormy nights.
"Alipin," the chief judge asked one, "dare you say before all these people that you did not see, you did not take the priceless heirloom?"
Terror was written across the slave's wrinkled face - but guilt was not in her eyes." No pearls did I take, no sacred heirloom did I hide," she said and looked accusingly at Sinag-Tala." But I saw the basket weaver and she was standing by the camagong table, staring covetously at the string of Maginadao pearls."
The judge brought their heads together. They nodded slowly, wisely.
"Was the rajah's daughter in the room when the basket-weaver came?"
"No, she was not," the slave said, gathering courage." And I left the room to look for Lakambini. but I could not find her. And when I came back, the basket-weaver was already leaving, and she said that Lakambini did not want her anymore."
"Noticed you anything in Sinag-Tala's look?"
"Awih! yes, the girl was pale in the lips and wild in the eyes," the slave added. "And the baskets shook in her trembling hands."
The village people were silent. Pirang Kawayan, father of the accused girl, shut his eyes and muttered under his breath. In the distance a ripe coconut fell with an echoing thud.
"Wish you to make a reply to what you have heard, Sinag-Tala?"
A helpless, imploring look appeared in the girl's eyes as she sought for pitying faces around her She only saw the grim, unwinking stare of her father, the maker of sawali walls. She cringer under his fierce, blazing gaze.
"No...no! I didn't ...!" her ashen lips quivered.
"If the pearls can still be found," said the spokesman, "nothing more will be said. But if they are not...?"
There was a great shout. A boatload of people from up the river was swiftly nearing the shore, and the young man who stood at the prow was gesticulating wildly.
"The son of the chief of Pasigan," cried the Maynilad braves.
Hope surged in Sinag-Tala's breast: "Magiting!"
The young warrior leaped from the boat; others followed him.
"Men with the wisdom of the aged," he began after saluting the judges, "I come with the plea that Sinag-Tala be not tried. Too I have with me the indemnity for the lost pearls, other costly gems sent by my father, the Pasigan chief, that Sinag-Tala may be spared the shame of the ordeal."
There was a glad rumbling among the village people.
But the white-haired judges shook their heads slowly, wisely.
"We thank the rajah of Pasigan and his son," they said. "But by the laws and customs of ancient Maynilad, a theft done to the family of the rajah is irreparable. The trial must therefore go on."
Walang Gulat rushed to the side of Sinag-Tala. But the law forbade that they should talk to each other. They only stared and stared at one another. so Magiting was Walang Gulat whom Lakambini wanted to wed, Sinag-Tala told herself.
"The jewels are not yet found," the judge was again heard." And all the accused have sworn they are innocent. Therefore must we proceed to the ordeal by fire."
Lakambini choked back a cry. She alternately crimsoned and paled. She wanted to run away, to hid; but she could not move. She stood as if petrified by horror.
Pirang Kawayan's lips trembled as he strode away. He stood apart from the crowd, alone, in a a place where he could see everything. The old man's eyes were moist with despair, yet his head was held high and his massive shoulders did not stoop. For Pirang Kawayan knew that the blood of his ancestors - nobles themselves - coursed in his veins, the blood of famous men who valued their lives less than their unsullied honor. But Sinag-Tala, his wretched offspring, accused of the theft of the pearls!
And his massive arms uncoiled themselves from their folded position. Deliberately, his right hand fumbles at his waist. But then both his hands balled themselves into mighty, knotting fists of iron.
Sinag-Tala would be the first to pass the ordeal, so it was ordained. Swiftly, she was blindfolded. The smoke encircled her uncertainly, while the fire under the cauldron crackled.
"Therefore must he accused Sinag-Tala - as the others who will follow..." the voice was but a drowning sound, "dip her hands into the boiling pot and take out the white stone that rests in its bottom. And if her hands remain unblistered, unburnt, then it is a sign that our gods find her guiltless and we pronounce her innocent. But if they be burnt..."
But Lakambini, owner of the stolen Magindanao pearls, was late, too late...! For Sinag-Tala's father had suddenly whipped himself up. With the speed of lightning, his hand had traveled to his waist and out came a glittering, thin-bladed, sharp-pointed dagger.
There was only an instant pause after Lakambini's shriek. Then, something flashed and scintillated as it swiftly whizzed through the air and struck Sinag-Tala in the breast. Old Priang's hand was firm and his aim had been fatefully true!
"Bathala! God, she's innocent! I have the pearls!" Lakambini babbled foolishly, incoherently. She madly kissed the comely, paling face and pressed the dying girl close to her. "Sinag-Tala, forgive me! I hid - the- pearls - I hid them! Sinag-Tala...!"
Billones, Patricia, Castro, Honorina Rowena, Carpeso, Shirley and Obillo, Maria Cristina. Everyday Life in Anglo-American Literature 9. The Phoenix Publishing House, Inc. 2018.
Everywhere in Java, Sumatra, and Celebes, the people know of two men named Guno and Koyo, and whenever they hear of them, they smile. For the name Guno means "helpful" and Guno is really a very unhelpful man; and while Koyo's name means "rich," Koyo in fact ever has any money at all. Whatever he manages to get his hands on, Guno the "helpful" one helps him lose.
It is said that one time Guno persuaded Koyo to go with him to rob an old hadji. They crept in the night to the old man's house and began to dig a hole under the wall. When the hole was large enough for a man to enter, Guno crawled through. He silently gathered the valuables of the sleeping hadji and handed them out through the hole to Koyo, who piled them neatly on the ground. As Guno prepared to go out, he saw the hadji's colorful robe hanging on a peg. He took the robe down and dressed himself in it. He said to himself, "I will soil my new robe if I crawl out the way I came in." So, instead of going through the hole, he went to the door, unlocked it, and stepped out.
Koyo, expecting Guno to appear through the hole, was startled. Seeing the dignified robed figure coming out of the door, he thought it was the hadji, and that Guno was still inside
"Ai! The hadji!" Koyo screamed.
And leaving the pile of loot where he had placed it on the ground, he began to run. Guno, thinking the hadji was behind him, hastily threw his new robe away and fled after Koyo.
Because the two of them made so much noise fleeing through the village, the neighbors were awakened, and they came out with sticks and sickles to pursue them.
Guno and Koyo ran across the open fields until they came panting to the edge of the river.
"Ah, we are lost!" Koyo groaned. "We'll either be caught and beaten, or we will drown in the flooded river!"
"The river isn't flooded," Guno said helpfully. "Indeed the river is flooded," Koyo said.
"No, it certainly is not flooded." Guno said. "If it were in flood t would be muddy and dark. But it is so clear you can almost see the bottom."
Koyo looked. It was true. Faintly in the starlight he could see the rocks in the bottom of the river.
"Well," he said nervously, "you go first and tell me how it is." So Guno held his breath, closed his eyes, and leaped from the rocky ledge.
But the riverbed was dry, there was no water in it at all, and Guno fell into the gravel and stones below.
As he lay there in great surprise, he heard Koyo shouting to him from the ledge above:
"How is it? How is it?
Guno was embarrassed. So he began to make swimming motions with his hands and legs as he lay on the bottom of the dry riverbed, and he called out:
"It's fine below, don't you see me?"
So Koyo, too, took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and leaped from the ledge. He landed next to Guno, sprawling in the dry river gravel.
Guno, still waving his arms as though he were swimming turned to Koyo and said:
"You can see now that I was right. The river is not in flood."
The people of the village arrived on the ledge. They looked down and shouted at the two men to come out and take their punishment. In terror, Koyo also began to make swimming motions The villagers, seeing Guno and Koyo swimming this way in a river that had been dry for months, put down their weapons and laughed. They couldn't bring themselves to punish silly fugitives.
So today whenever a person tries to get out of a predicament by a ridiculous act, someone is sure to say:
"Don't go swimming in a dry riverbed."
Source
Lapid, Milagros and Serrano, Josephine. English Communication Arts and Skills through Afro-Asian Literature. 6th ed., Phoenix Publishing House, 2010.
