Our intertwined souls

Nelson Dino

Under the canopy of a star-filled sky, where the ocean whispered secrets to the moon, on the Sanga-Sanga Island where I live, I thought of our tradition of traversing the Sulu Sea from Tawi-Tawi to Sandakan. For generations, my family had traversed the azure expanse, our home a sturdy boat swaying with the rhythm of the waves. But fate, like the tides, is unpredictable. My decision to step onto solid ground was not born out of necessity but out of curiosity. The allure of the land, with its promises of steady work and new experiences, called to me like a siren’s song. One fateful morning, I bid farewell by waving my left hand with a green handkerchief to the endless horizon and setting foot on the sandy shores of a village called Tubig Sallang.

In my subconscious mind, I thought of looking for a job in Bongao town. In this unfamiliar world of concrete and hustle, my heart still yearned for the gentle sway of the sea. As I walked through the market in Bongao town, I met an old woman. She brought me home to work at her house. As I always heard, it pays a lot, enough for me to buy what I like, compared to just waiting for the fish captured from the sea for me to sell, as I used to do. The old lady introduced herself as Bu Titti, who owns a stall selling vegetables in the Bongao market.

“You can work with me.”
“Is the food free?”
“Yes. You only wash clothes.”
“How much do I get to be paid?”
“Stay in. 800 pesos. It is usually 500 pesos.”
Magsukul, Bu.”
“What’s your name?”
“Lina Raki. Just call me Lin.
“Bring this cellophane, Lin. Let’s go home.”

As days turned into weeks of work, I found solace in the rhythm of my new routine, with a meager fee but enough for me to keep for my needs, as the food was free. From dawn till dusk, I toiled tirelessly, weaving threads of cloth and scrubbing away stains, my hands becoming an extension of my determination. Amid the busyness of Bongao town, I discovered moments of quiet beauty. I learn new faces and stories daily, weaving stories of human connection and transcending language boundaries.

Amid this joyous laughter and warm companionship with Bu Titti, my heart still yearned for the beckoning call of the vast and ever-changing sea. During the tranquil hours of the night, I would quietly sneak away to the shore, feeling the salt-laden breeze gently caressing my tired soul. I would whisper my innermost secrets to the waves, my dreams and aspirations carried away by the ocean currents. Even though I had left the boat behind, the sea would forever course through my veins, an ever-present reminder of my true self and roots. My spirit remained as boundless as the ocean, flowing with the tides of change.

I thought the hearts of every woman in my community beat to the rhythm of the ocean, a timeless melody that has stood the test of time. As I spent more time in the lively town, I struggled with a decision torn between the familiarity of the sea and the excitement of a new home. Every morning, I woke up feeling longing, my heart pulling in two directions like a boat caught in a tempest. However, I discovered an inner strength amid my inner conflict.

“Home was more than just a physical space but a place defined by the bonds of love and resilience she carried,” I thought before getting up from bed. As time passed, I learned to embrace the duality of my existence, finding beauty in the ebb and flow of life’s currents. Ultimately, I discovered that home was not just a fixed destination but a voyage of the soul, where true treasures lived within myself, in the strength of my spirit and the depth of my heart.

As I continued my journey doing my work in the house of Bu Titti, I encountered new horizons and unfamiliar stories, each offering lessons and revelations. Along the way, I met my fellow tribes seeking the same direction, wanting to work in the town, and others simply seeking companionship. With each passing day, I learned to embrace the uncertainty of the voyage working in other people’s houses, knowing that I would always find my way within the ebb and flow of life. I saw the destination I sought and discovered the profound truth that the most incredible adventures led me back to myself. I reminisced about the scent of salt in the air as I sat at the bow of our boat, basking in the warmth of the setting sun.

I thought of returning to Tubig Sallang, living again underneath the canvas of the night sky, where I could share moments of quiet intimacy with my parents, where words became unnecessary, and only the language of touch and shared glances spoke volumes. Here, I can find the soft glow of moonlight. I found a sanctuary where the boundary between my thoughts blurred and time stood still. I thought my footsteps left imprints in the sand, marking the path of my journey from land back to the sea. With each gentle breeze, I laughed like the waves, carrying whispers of promises yet to unfold, like the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the clouds with vibrant hues of peach. At that moment, amid the serenade of the ocean’s lullaby, I knew Bu Titti’s love was not merely a destination but a timeless voyage bound by the magic of our intertwined souls.

 

Bleeding

Almayrah A. Tiburon

Kung paano ako na-excite sa una, ikalawa, at ikatlo kong anak ay ganun din sayo. Ilang beses ka naming pinag-usapan ng tatay mo kung anong ipapangalan namin sayo. Hindi ako nangialam sa ibinigay niyang pangalan kung lalaki ka pero sa pangalang babae ay dapat ding ipagkatiwala niya sa akin.Ngunit dalawang linggo na akong dinudugo habang ipinagbubuntis ka at nakaapat na ring pumunta sa doktor upang i-monitor ang kalagayan mo. Dalawang buwan ka pa lang sa sinapupunan ko pero mahal na mahal na kita. Pumunta na kami ng tatay mo sa doktor at iniinom ang mga gamot na ibinigay sa akin.

Sa ngayon ay hindi ako komportable dahil tila may menstruation ako pero ito ang pinakamatagal na menstruation sa buhay ko simula noong unang datnan nang dalaga pa ako. Hindi ako komportable dahil medyo kumikirot ang baba ng puson ko. Hindi ako komportable dahil ramdam kong ang daming dugo na naimbak sa loob, na magiging okey siguro ang pakiramdam ko kung mailalabas lahat pero nangangamba akong baka sumama ka. At hindi ako komportable kung nakahiga lamang sa kama dahil may tatlo kang kapatid na kailangan din ako.

Umalis ang katulong natin at ang naging set up ay Linggo ng gabi’y pupunta ng Wato sa lugar ng tatay mo. Lunes, alas kwatro ng madaling araw ay uuwi ng MSU at maiiwan sina King at Precious, si Cozy ay kasama namin dahil nag-aaral. Hihintayin namin ni Cozy sa gabi ang tatay mo galing trabaho mula Iligan para muling umuwi ng Wato. Alas kwatro kinaumagahan ay uuwi na naman ng MSU at darating ng Wato na tulog na ang dalawang bata. Marahil ay napagod din sila sa kahihintay sa amin. Yan ang araw-araw namin na talagang nakakapagod sa utak kaya nagkasakit ang mga kapatid mo at nakaapat kaming napunta sa hospital. Marahil ay napagod din ang katawan ko at kulang sa tulog habang nasa hospital dahil sa pag-aalala.

Ngayon nama’y kailangan kong alagaan ang sarili ko para sayo dahil gusto kitang makita at makasama habang nabubuhay ako. Gusto kitang ipaghele gabi-gabi kahit pa sa mga panahong may iniinda, ibig kong alagaan ka kahit maubusan man ng lakas. Sa tuwing iisipin ang ating kalagaya’y tunay na ang bawat gabi’y nagkukumot ng lungkot, nagiging maingay ang pintig ng puso tuwing tinitingnan ang napkin na puno ng dugo at biglang lumakas ang pintig ng dibdib  nang makitang may buo na dugo sa bowl nang ako’y umihi. “Lailahailallah, kapit ka lang anak ko, kumapit ka lang,” ang nausal ko.

Kinabukasa’y agad na nagpacheck-up sa doktor at laking pasalamat namin ng tatay mo na nasa sinapupunan pa rin kita, marahil ay dahil sa ayaw kong bumitaw sa paniniwalang magkikita tayo at tatanda akong kasama ka.

Iniisip ko na nga ang araw na isisilang kita, na sa paligid ko’y ang putimputing silid, ramdam ang ilang oras na pananakit ng tiyan, na palakad-lakad bilang ehersisyo dahil alam kong makatutulong yun sa mabilis mong paglabas, na sa mga oras na yan ay walang anumang namamahay na kaba at takot sa isip, batid kong muling mararanasan ang kirot at pamimilipit sa sakit at sa kalagitnaan ng pag-ere ay naaaninag sa tuwi-tuwina sa mga nars ang pag-aalala nila pero matatag ang doktor na ipapanganak kita, na kahit na nanghihina na ako nang lumabas ka mula sa aking sinapupunan ay ibig kong marinig sa pagkatagal-tagal na paghihintay ang maliit na tinig ng iyong pag-uha. Gusto ko rin ang marahang pagpihit ng pinto, papasok ang tatay mo’t sabik na makita tayong dalawa habang pinagmamasdam ko rin ang iyong payapang mukha na bumabagay sa dalisay na pagkaputi ng kama at kumot na iyong kinahihimlayan. Paumanhin kung sosobra ako sa kung anuman ang dapat gampanan ko sa inyo bilang isang ina.

Alam mo, gaya ng mga kuya mo at ate, nais kong maranasan na mabuhat ka, kalungin, patawanin, at yapusin upang maging komportable at mapanatag ka’t makatulog nang mahimbing. Gusto kong sabihin sayo tuwing umiiyak ka sa gabi na nandito lamang ako lalo na sa mga panahon ng kapanglawan, magbibigay ako palagi ng lakas sa pagkakataong nanghihina kayo dahil sa mga pagsubok ng pagkakataon, magbibigay ng liwanag kapag pusikit ang mundo ninyo.

Hindi ko alam ngunit tunay ang aking pananabik sa iyo at kapag nandito ka na sa mundo ay yayakapin kita ng aking mga salita at ipaghehele ng aking mga kataga. At marami pa akong gustong maranasan sayo bilang nanay mo. Ipagpaumanhin ninyo lamang kung lumabis man ang pagiging nanay ko sa inyo.

Kanina lang, ikalabing-apat na araw na bleeding at ikaapat na punta na rin sa doktor. Walang lumalabas na salita sa akin nang marinig kong wala ka na, na hindi ko mapigilan ang mga luha habang nagpapaliwanag ang doktor at nakikita ko ang monitor sa ultrasound.  Bago kami lumabas ng clinic ay binigyan niya ako ng gamot at ang sabi’y bukas o sa susunod na araw marahil ay kikirot ang tiyan ko na parang ang sakit ay yaong manganganak, phamalilit ika nga. Ang kaibahan nga lang ay makakaramdam ako ng sakit gaya ng panganganak pero hindi kita makakapiling at hindi rin maipaghehele.

C2 sa Malaig

Ayessah Nesreen Pasagi

“Hala! Talaga? Nasaan na ngayon ang mga magulang niya?”, tanong ni Amer sa kung sino mang kausap niya.

Kararating ko lang sa bahay galing eskwelahan sa oras na iyon. Mga alas kwatro na ng hapon. Nag-uusap-usap sina Omi, Amer, at ng kaibigan ni Amer na mahilig magdala ng balita sa buong barangay, si Orakmama.

“Oo, bumalik na naman doon ang mga magulang niya para i-check ulit. Nagbabakasakali sila na may pag-asa pa”, rinig ko ang boses ni Orakmama habang umaakyat ako papuntang kwarto. Tila ba may nangyayari na namang hindi kanais-nais. Bihira lang kasi pumasok sa bahay si Orakmama tuwing naghahatid ng balita, nakasanayan nang nasa labas lang siya ng gate kapag nagbabalita. Ngunit ngayon ay nasa sala siya at seryoso ang mukha.

Hindi na ako nakisali sa usapan nila dahil kararating ko lang kaya dumiretso na ako sa banyo para maligo. Inaasahan kong aalis din si Orakmama kapag maghahapunan na kami at ang isyu na pinag-uusapan nila ay matatapos din.

Naghanda na kami ni ate ng kakainin namin sa hapunan. Wala sa bahay si Papa kaya binawasan ko ng isa ang mga platong nilagay ni ate sa mesa.

“Sana okay lang ang bata. Mabait pa naman iyon”, wika ni Omi habang kami ay kumakain. Hindi ko alam kung sino ang tinutukoy niya at wala akong balak alamin kung sino. Halos linggo-linggo na kasing may nangyayari sa barangay namin kaya nakakapagod nang alamin ang lahat.

“Hindi ba’t kasama niyong pumunta sa eskwelahan si Sara?” tanong ni Omi sa akin.

“Ha? Opo, kasama namin kaninang umaga. Napano pala siya?”, nagtataka kong tanong. Si Sara ay kaklase ko noong nasa elementarya pa lang ako at kami ang laging magkasamang pumupunta noon sa paaralan, magkatabi lang kasi ang bahay namin. Sabay din kaming lumaki at kilala na namin ang isa’t isa simula pagkabata. Ngayong high school lang kami nagkahiwalay ng pinapasukang paaralan, pero sabay pa rin kaming pumupunta dahil medyo malapit lang ang school niya sa school namin.

“Pero ngayong hapon, hindi niyo siya kasamang umuwi?”

“Hindi… nakasanayan na naming hindi siya nakasasabay sa aming umuwi minsan eh”

“Balita ni Orakmama kanina may nangyari raw sa kaniya. Noong lunch time ay hindi raw siya nananghalian sa classroom nila at nakitang sumama sa mga kaibigan niya”

“Siguro nag-explore lang sila sa tabi-tabi at uuwi rin mamayang malapit nang mag-alas sais”

*

Pumatak na nga ang alas sais pero mas dumami ang mga tao sa labas ng bahay nina Aling Normi, ang nanay ni Sara. Nakaramdam na ako ng kaba dahil sa dinami-rami ng nangyari sa barangay namin, ito lang ang may sangkot na kaibigan ko.

“Ano palang puno’t dulo ng ganap?”, tanong ko kay Amer.

“Ganito kasi ‘yon. Si Sara, ang kasama niyong pumunta sa school, ay hindi raw nag-lunch sa classroom nila at sumama na lang sa mga kaibigan niya. Isa sa mga kaibigan niyang ‘yon ay ang anak ni Ustadh Salman na si Sittienor. Si Sittienor ay nasa bahay na nila kanina pa, nakauwi nang ligtas at wala raw alam sa kung nasaan si Sara. Sabi sa tsismis parang lutang daw si Sittienor noong tinatanong nila, ang daming sinasabi at tumatawa’t umiiyak pa. Tapos, noong tapos na nilang kausapin siya, narinig nila siyang humihingi ng tawad sa tatay niya. Sabi raw niya, ‘Aydaw, Abi, miyasokar ako o manga ama tano a datu ago manga ina tano a bai. Phamangni ako rekano sa rila’, tapos bigla na naman daw tatawa.” Naku, itay, lagot ako sa mga ninuno natin. Humihingi ako ng kapatawaran sa inyo.

“Ahh… nasobrahan yata sila sa pag-explore

Mahigit alas siyete na ng gabi nang dumating ang motor na sinakyan ng mga magulang ni Sara sa paghahanap sa kaniya. Dali-dali akong sumilip sa may bintana. Kitang-kita ko ang mga tao na ang iba pa ay may hawak na flashlight. Pumasok sa loob ng bahay nila si Aling Normi at hindi ko na nakita ang ekspresyon sa mukha niya. Pinalibutan pa siya ng mga tao at sabay-sabay nagtanong ng kung ano-ano. Hindi talaga mawawala sa mga pangyayari si Orakmama, naroon na naman siya at pumasok din sa bahay nina Aling Normi, kasabay ng iba.

Ilang minuto ang nakalipas at dumating si Orakmama sa bahay na parang may dalang pasalubong.

Tonaa kon i miyasowa?”, tanong sa kanya ni Amer. Ano raw ang nangyari?

“May nagsabi raw sa kanila na sina Sara at mga kaibigan niya ay pumunta sa may ilog sa Malaig noong tanghali. May dala raw na maraming C2 ang mga kaibigan niya at doon daw sila kumain at nag-inom. Pagkatapos nun ay naglangoy-langoy sila… Ayan na! Ayan na!” Tumakbo na naman si Orakmama sa kabilang bahay dahil may dumating doon na puting multicab.

“Hoy, hoy! Matulog na kayo. May pasok pa kayo bukas. Ikaw rin Orakmama, lagot ka sa nanay mo”, sabi sa amin ni Omi pero kumaripas na ng takbo si Orakmama.

Pumasok na ako sa kwarto kahit ayaw ko pang matulog. Ano kayang posibleng nangyari kina Sara? Sana hindi totoo ang kutob ko.

Lumakas ang ingay sa kabilang bahay at nakarinig ako ng biglang humagulgol.

“Subhanallah! Miyatoon iran so wata” sigaw ng isa. Subhanallah! Nahanap din nila ang bata.

Ilang minuto pa, may nag-uusap na naman sa sala at ang narinig ko lang ay “Ang lamig na niya. Hindi na siya makilala. Yakap-yakap pa siya ng kaibigan niyang si Hata habang sila ay nasa tubig. Nakaipit daw ang isang paa niya sa may bato nang mahanap sila”.

At umiyak na nang umiyak si Aling Normi buong gabi.

Four poems

Jahara A. Solaiman

Ramadhan in Gaza

A crust of bread for them,
Already a blessing,
While we,
With our ingratitude,
Whine of the plenty
That is our iftar spread.

The sunset Adhan of Maghrib
A reminder
Of having made it through
Yet another day.
To us, just a signal that
To eat, we may.

Their Taraweeh,
Prayed in the open
On the hard earth,
Amidst the rubble
And the rumble
Of an explosion unexpected,
While we on full stomachs
Wait to roll up the mat
And head home.

Them,
Aware that,
To fast another day
They might not,
Nor sight
The crescent moon
Heralding the Eid,
Nor have their kin
To celebrate with.

They,
With their tribulations
Spanning the years.
May Heaven be the reward
For their tears!

A Grocery Shopper’s Thoughts on Grief

Grief comes
Consumed in cups
Sometimes in spoonfuls
But otherwise,
No exact serving size.

It comes packed in boxes
Or in jars and cans
Tightly sealed, yet
Ready to be opened
At a moment’s notice.

The ingredients are a mix
Of mostly tears,
A smidgeon of hurt and regret
Or a dash  of memories
That leave a bitter aftertaste.

Always in stock,
Life’s store shelves
Are full of it
Ready for either the frugal shopper
Or the impulse buyer’s taking.

Grief comes in
In a variety of packaging,
And a hefty price tag,
But no “Consume Before” date on the label

So Sanggibo a Ranon a Piyatay  o Satiman a Tadman
(A Thousand Good Memories Destroyed by A Single Mistake)

Treasured memories
Are a-plenty.
In the thousands,
More maybe.
Overflowing the heart
Till they were
What it only knew..

But it only took
Just one mistake,
A careless word
A mindless deed
A single blow
To painfully shred
A whole,
Delicately pieced together.

Such is human nature.
One misdeed
Makes a stranger out
Of those thousand joys.

Ode to the Marawi Fog

Hand in hand
The fog and cold go
Like lovers at the promenade
On a winter morning stroll.

Oblivious to the shivering throng,
The pair smother all creation
Nonchalantly,
With the misty cocoon
Of snappish cold.
A veneer of glossy damp
airily drifting.
The sun must have been sent away,
For this pair to bask
In their icy honeymoon.

A drastic change

Arch. Sitti Maryam Misah Amirul

On one balmy afternoon, somewhere on the outskirts of our small town of Jolo in the province of Sulu, it was quite a busy day yet significant and remarkable to me. Together with my team, we trekked through the green expanse of the forest in Patikul, Sulu, anticipating reaching the site of one of our projects for a scheduled ocular inspection  It was one of the many site inspections we habituated in our daily grind since our sphere of competence is inclined to the engineering industry and committed to delivering quality infrastructure means and services effectively to the public. It was somewhat arduous traversing the area but we undoubtedly enjoyed the tour. It was mainly because of the ravishing scenery we came to observe along the way. The stretching leaves of huge tall trees are like a vast canopy covering us from above as if protecting us from the sun’s scorching heat. Beyond those trees is a wide panorama of the azure cloudless sky complementing the aerial view of the town in its kaleidoscopic landscape spread across the broad horizon. I tend to indulge in the serenity and quietude of the place as the wind somehow blows a caressing whisper as if to ensure me of a peaceful haven I can be in at the moment. I could feel the cold breeze touching my face which became even colder as tears rolled down my eyes at the spur of the moment. I could not contain my feelings. There was a pang of bizarre emotion engulfing my senses upon seeing in proximity remnants of the past, depicting testaments of past wars and conflicts that transpired in this very place. I felt a mixture of sorrow, remorse, and longing that consumed the entirety of me. Albeit we are seeing changes throughout, the old familiar fear we felt and the tormenting chaos we witnessed that displaced many residents and gravely destroyed communities still lingered in the abyss of our memories and never will be unremembered.

In the distant past, the province of Sulu was once a battleground that generated a bad impression across the country. This very ground where I am standing is just a part of the many areas here in Sulu that were deemed a no man’s land as it was deserted and neglected many years back making it a perilous place. Hence, Sulu is stereotyped as the breeding ground of the unruly and dubbed as a scary place to visit which has sadly become a historical prejudice. Verily, it was disheartening. My heart bleeds for my beloved hometown. And I felt the urge to redeem its glory. I wiped those tears that I couldn’t help falling and went on.

As we reached the peak of what seemed to be a slightly steep terrain, I was in awe at the sight of an old abandoned structure that appeared to be a primary school building built in the early 90s and was wrecked at the height of conflicts in which bullet holes were still visible on the concrete panels of its wall. This hit on the core so hard. A once notable institution was torn asunder and left to oblivion. The terror of war has not only destroyed the community. It took away the hopes and dreams of the generation. I could feel my knees starting to shiver and my heart pounded ceaselessly as if I was in agitation. There is a question running in my head that demands at once an answer. Thus, I ask myself with conviction. What does it take to be a true public servant? How far should one’s service go to be conceded as a true public service?

It is at this moment that I come to see the real meaning of public works. To revive a lifeless body of land and cultivate it with one’s blood, sweat, and tears to come to life again is something beyond service. And to set foot in those dangerous areas to transform them into a beaming community once again thereby furnishing quality service is no easy task. It takes considerable courage, strong will, hard work, and perseverance to begin and pave the way. On this premise, I realized that great leadership with utmost dedication, integrity, and commitment can serve as dynamic forces to genuine public service. Such leadership is a true catalyst for change. I now discern that to be a better public servant, take what possesses these strengths and virtues with a heart that truly cares for the people, the community, and the entire nation.

Perhaps, this was the calling I was destined to be after the doors of opportunity opened for me in the Bangsamoro bureaucracy. And yes, I belong to this Bangsa(nation), the Bangsa Sug in particular. I believe that taking part in this great endeavor will plant seeds of hope to humanity and bring lasting peace and development to the community. And to be part of this dedicated workforce is my humble attempt to be of better service. Public works being at the forefront of excellence in peace-keeping and nation-building, is certainly a true public service. Being part of this, I consider myself duty-bound to uphold its virtue.

At the approach of the night, we already exited the site and were navigating through the newly constructed road which our team had previously accomplished. The dazzling bright luminescence coming from the newly installed solar paneled lights above a six-metered height metallic post hued in stripes gave a clear vision of the surroundings and extensively lit our direction. Following the emergence of infrastructure developments in this locality, many crime-related activities were diminished and the peace and order situation in the vicinage was enhanced. On that account, many tourists were no longer afraid to visit Sulu and were astonished by the many beautiful scenic spots here especially when they get to experience the many attractive beaches on white powdery sand underneath the tall coconut trees, and the tranquility they get to feel upon the exquisite view of clear turquoise waters swashing around the vista. It is truly a sight to behold. This is an indication that tourism is also booming in the province. Sulu is flourishing and manifesting a gleam of hope. I found myself grinning at the thought of it. Indeed, my native land has withstood the tests of time and truly made a drastic transformation. It has metamorphosed radically from being a battleground into (I must say) a playground where children are free to explore the vicinity without the fear of getting trapped in the strings of chaos.