Category: Fiction

Anifa Alonto 

 

Sa isang malayong lupain, sa isa sa Pat a Pangampong a Ranao (Apat na Estado ng Ranao), nakatira ang isang bae labi (prinsesa) na kilala sa buong lupain dahil sa kanyang natatanging pagkatao at walang katulad na kagandahan. Dahil siya ay nag-iisang anak na babae ng Sultan ng Mala a Bayabao (na matatagpuan sa Estado ng Bayabao), hindi lamang sinuman ang maaaring humingi ng kanyang kamay. Nais ng Sultan ang pinakamabuting kabyak para sa kanyang pinakamamahal na anak na babae na nasa hustong gulang, kaya tinipon niya ang mga lokal na datu (tradisyonal na mga pinuno) at matatanda sa lupain para sa pinakamatinding paraan upang makahanap ng karapat-dapat na asawa para sa bae labi.

Ang pulong ay tumagal ng ilang araw na may iba’t ibang mga mungkahi mula sa mga naroroon. Sa ikatlong araw ay sa wakas ay nakabuo sila ng isang pinagkasunduan. Ang lahat ng mga karapat-dapat na anak ng iba pang mga sultan sa loob ng Pat a Pangampong a Ranao ay iimbitahan sa Mala a Bayabao upang ang Sultan at ang mga lokal na datu ay masaksi ang karapatdapat para sa kamay ng bae labi.

Isang anunsyo ang ibinigay sa lahat ng mga makaharing bahay sa Ranao. Ang mga interesadong anak ng mga sultan ay kailangang makarating sa Mala a Bayabao sa loob ng sampung araw kung saan sila ay sasalubungin sa pasukang daan ng Mala a Bayabao ng isang espesyal na grupo ng mga lokal na mandirigma upang samahan sila sa torogan(tradisyonal na bahay ng Meranaw) ng Sultan. Ang iba pang mga kondisyon ay, kailangan nilang maglakbay nang walang kasama at kailangan nilang magdala ng isang mamahaling regalo para sa bae labi.

Dumating ang araw at matagumpay na dumating ang apat na kahali-halina na datu, mga anak ng mga sultan, mula sa iba’t ibang makaharing bahay ng Pat a Pangampong a Ranao at nakikilala sa kanilang natatanging kopya (sumbrero) at galanteng kasuotan. Dumating ang balita na may sampu pang datu ang bumalik sa kani-kanilang lupain, hindi nakayanan ang nakakapagod na paglalakbay nang walang kasama at tulong ng isang utusan.

Malugod na tinanggap ng munting grupo ng mga iginagalang na lokal na mandirigma ang apat na datu at hiniling na magpahinga muna sila bago tumuloy sa torogan ng Sultan, na kalahating araw pa ang layo sa paglalakad. Ang mga lokal na mandirigma ay naghanda ng isang simpleng pagkain at ang mga datu ay pinaupo sa kanila ng punong mandirigma. Tatlo sa mga datu ang tumanggi na kumuha ng anumang pagkain sa piling ng mga mandirigma. Pinilit nilang pagsilbihan sila nang hiwalay at sa mga kapwa nilang datu lamang. Walang pag-aalinlangan ay pinagbigyan ang kanilang kahilingan.

Nang sumapit ang tanghali, tinanong ng pinunong mandirigma kung nais ng mga datu na huminto para sa dhuhr(pagdarasal sa tanghali) bago magpatuloy sa kanilang paglalakbay. Karamihan ay tumugon sa sang-ayon. Ngunit matapos malaman na medyo malayo ang batis kung saan sila maghuhugas, biglang may mga dumaing ng pagod mula sa mga datu. Isa lamang sa mga datu ang sumama sa mga mandirigma para sa paglilinis at sumama sa kanila sa panalangin.

Pagkatapos ng dhuhr, nagpatuloy ang mga datu sakay ng kabayo sa kanilang paglalakbay. Maririnig ang usapan sa pagitan ng mga datu. Ibinahagi nila kung gaano sila kahanga-hanga sa napakalawak na lupain ng Mala a Bayabao, ang masaganang taniman nito, mga kawan ng mga hayop, at ang marilag nitong tanawin sa lawa at sa mga nakapaligid na bundok nito. Maaari pa ngang sabihin ng isa na tila sila ay nanirahan sa ideya ng pagiging palagiang maninirahan sa lupain.

Nang palapit na sila sa torogan, nakita nila ang isang ginang na makasuot ng maruming kasuotan na hirap na hirap bitbitin ang isang sako ng bigas sa kanyang likod. Halos kaagad na bumaba ang isa sa mga datu sa kanyang kabayo at nagpatuloy sa paglipat ng sako sa likod ng kanyang kabayo. Sa kabila ng pagpupumilit ng ginang na hindi nangangailangan ng tulong, naninindigan ang datu. Tinanong niya ang ginang, na patuloy na nakatingin sa baba at hindi sinasalubong ang tingin ng datu, kung saan ito patungo. Ang ginang ay nag-aalangan na isiniwalat na siya ay pupunta sa torogan ng Sultan. Natuwa ang datu ng marinig ito at sinabi sa kanya na mabuti dahil parehas din pala sila ng pupuntahan.

Nang matanaw na ang marilag na torogan, at makikita mula sa bintana ng torogan ang grupo ng mga mandirigma at datu, biglang napuno ng tunog ng kulintang (tradisyunal na instrumentong gong) at debaka (tambol) ang paligid. Para sa mga datu, ito ang pinakamalaking torogan na kanilang nakita at ang pinakamasalimuot na inukit na mga panolong(dulong sinag) na kanilang nakita. Humanga sila sa karilagan ng torogan ng Sultan.

Habang ang mga datu ay isinasama ng mga mandirigma sa isang marikit na  langit-langitan na may magagandang pinalamutian na talam (mababang mesa) na inilatag sa sahig na may banig, hindi nila maiwasang makaramdam ng kagyat na gutom mula sa mabangong amoy ng pagkain na pumupuno sa bawat talam. Pinaupo sila habang naghihintay sa pagdating ng Sultan. Patuloy na tumugtog ang musika sa kapaligiran ngunit sa pagkakataong ito ay sinasabayan ng tradisyonal na sayaw ng kapagapir (sayaw na gamit ang pamaypay) ng magagaling na babaeng mananayaw.

Malugod na tinanggap ng Sultan ang apat na datu nang may ganoong kahusayan sa pagsasalita na angkop lamang sa isang sultan. Ipinahayag niya ang kanyang pasasalamat at pagpapahalaga sa kanilang pagkadalo at pagtanggap sa kanyang imbitasyon. Binigyang-diin ng Sultan na ang kanilang lahi at kayamanan ay sapat na para maging karapat-dapat sa kanyang anak na babae. Patuloy niyang sinabi na kahit na ang mga katangiang ito ay maaaring sapat na para sa ibang mga ama, ito ay hindi para sa kanyang minamahal na prinsesa.

Inihayag ng Sultan na sinadya niyang maglakbay ang mga datu nang walang mga utusan mula sa kanilang lupang pinagmulan upang makita kung gaano sila sapat sa sarili. Sumunod, gusto niyang makita kung sino sa kanila ang nagpakita ng kababaang-loob, kaya ang dahilan ng paghiling sa kanila na makisalo sa pagkain sa mga mandirigma. Bilang isang Moslem kailangan niyang sundin ang pagdarasal ng dhuhr, na nagbigay sa kanya ng pagkakataong makita kung sino sa kanila ang matatag sa pagsunod sa kanilang mga panalangin. Ang huling pagsubaybay ay ang ginang na may dalang isang sako ng bigas. Pagkatapos sa sandaling iyon tumayo ang makapigil-hiningang bae labi.

Ipinakilala niya ang kanyang sarili gamit ang pinaka banayad na mga salita at pinakamahinang tono habang tinatakpan ang kanyang bibig ayon sa idinidikta ng tradisyon. Ipinahayag niya ang kanyang pasasalamat sa datu na tumulong sa kanya sa pagdadala ng sako ng bigas at ibinunyag niya na siya ang tanging anak ng Sultan, ang ikakasal sa datu na pipiliin. Ito at ang iba pang pagkakabunyag ay lalong nagpasindak sa mga datu.

Muling nagsalita ang Sultan. Hiniling niya sa bawat isa sa mga datu na ilabas ang kanyang hiniling sa bawat isa sa kanila na dalhin, isang mamahaling regalo para sa bae labi.

Ang unang datu ay naglabas ng isang maningning na gintong pulseras. Ipinaliwanag niya na ito ay mula sa koleksyon ng alahas ng kanyang ina at kung siya ang papipiliin, marami pa siyang maibibigay dito bukod sa iba pang kayamanan.

Ang ikatlong datu ay nagpakita ng salsilah (talaangkanan) bilang kanyang regalo. Sinabi niya na sa lahat ng mga karapat-dapat na anak ng mga sultan sa Pat a Pangampong a Ranao, siya ay nagmula sa pinakamakapangyarihan at kilalang angkan. Kung papipiliin, iginiit niya na mas makakapagbigay siya ng katatagan sa Mala a Bayabao.

Ang pang-apat at huling datu ay may hawak na isang bagay na natatakpan ng napakarilag na landap (magarang malong ng mga Meranaw). Sinabi niya na ito ang pinakamatanda at pinakamahalagang pag-aari ng kanyang pamilya. Sa loob ay isang Koran (banal na libro ng mga Moslem) na tiyak na nakakita na ng maraming siglo. Sinabi niya na nais niya at ng kanyang mga ninuno na ipagpatuloy ang isang angkan na may takot sa Diyos at mag-lilingkod para kay Allah. Siya ay umaasa na tanggapin ang kanyang munting regalo ng isang babaeng may parehong mga prinsipyo sa buhay.

Ang Sultan ay tumayo at sinabi, “Sa pamamagitan ng mga regalo na inyong dinala, malinaw na malinaw sa akin kung sino ang pinaka-karapat-dapat sa aking minamahal na prinsesa. Pinili ko ang datu na pinakamahusay na nagpakita ng mga katangian ng isang Moslem: kaya ang sarili; mapagpakumbaba; banal; at matulungin.”

Ipinaliwanag pa ng Sultan na si Propeta Muhammad (sumakanya nawa ang kapayapaan) ay nagsasaad na kung ang isang lalaki na ang relihiyon at pagkatao ay nagbibigay-kasiyahan sa iyo, at nag-aalok ng kasal, dapat siyang tanggapin (Sunan Al-Tirmidhi, 1084). Dahil dito, at sa pagsang-ayon ng bae labi, tatanggapin ng Sultan ang alok na pagpapakasal ng nag-iisang datu na nakapasa sa lahat ng limang pagsubok.

Ang bae labi at ang datu ay ikinasal sa pinakasimpleng seremonya ngunit tinamasa ang kadakilaan ng pamamahala sa malalawak na lupain sa kapayapaan at kasaganaan, na ginagabayan ng pinakamamahaling regalo na ibinigay ng datu sa bae labi: ang Koran.

Pangwakas na tala:

Ang manunulat ay kumuha ng inspirasyon sa mga kwentong bayan ng Meranaw na laging nagbibigay ng boses at kahalagahan sa mga kababaihan sa kanilang mga salaysay. Sinisikap din ng kwento na bigyang-diin ang mga katangiang hinihikayat ni Propeta Muhammad (sumakanya nawa ang kapayapaan) na hanapin ng mga Moslem sa isang magiging asawa. Nais din ng manunukat na magbigay-pugay sa kanyang mga ninuno mula sa angkan ng kanyang ama na nagmula sa Mala a Bayabao at ipakilala ang impluwensya ng Islam sa pananaw, saloobin, at pag-uugali ng mga Meranaw.

 

The Datu’s Precious Gift

In a faraway land, in one of the Pat a Pangampong a Ranao (Four States of Ranao), lived a bae labi (princess) who was known throughout the land for her exceptional character and unparalleled beauty. As she is the only daughter of the Sultan of Mala a Bayabao (found in the State of Bayabao), not just anyone could ask for her hand in marriage. The Sultan wanted the finest partner for his precious daughter who has come of age, so he had gathered the local datus (traditional leaders) and elders in the land for the best possible way to find a suitable husband.

The meeting took days with various suggestions from those present. On the third day they were finally able to come up with a consensus.  All eligible sons of other sultans within the Pat a Pangampong a Ranao would be invited to Mala a Bayabao so that the Sultan and the local datus could personally engage with the potential contenders for the hand of the bae labi.

An announcement was handed to all the royal houses in Ranao. Interested sons of sultans had to arrive at Mala a Bayabao within ten days where they will be met at the entry road to Mala a Bayabao by a special entourage of local warriors to accompany them to the torogan (traditional Meranaw house) of the Sultan. The other conditions were, they had to travel without company and they had to bring one precious gift for the bae labi.

The day came and four charming datus, sons of sultans, from the different royal houses of the Pat a Pangampong a Ranao and distinguished by their unique kopya (hat) and gallant attires, arrived successfully. News came that ten other datus had returned to their respective lands, not being able to survive the grueling travel without the company and help of a servant.

The small entourage of esteemed local warriors welcomed the four datus and requested them to take a short rest before continuing to the torogan of the Sultan, which was still half a day away by foot.  The local warriors prepared a simple meal and the datus were asked by the head warrior to be seated with them. Three of the datus refused to take any food in the company of the warriors. They insisted on being served separately and only among their fellow datus. Without hesitation their request was granted.

As noon came, the head warrior asked if the datus would like to make a stop for dhuhr (noon prayer) before proceeding with their travel. Most responded in the affirmative. But after learning that the stream where they would make ablution was quite distant, suddenly there were complaints of weariness from the datus.  Only one of the datus went with the warriors for cleansing and joined them in prayer after.

Following dhuhr, the datus proceeded by horse on their journey.  Small talk between and among the datus could be overheard.  They shared how awed they were by the immense land of Mala a Bayabao, its abundant plantation, herds of animals, and its majestic view of the lake and its surrounding mountains. One could even say that they appeared to be settled with the idea of being permanent residents of the land.

As the entourage neared the torogan, they saw a lady dressed shabbily carrying a sack of rice on her back with difficulty. Almost immediately one of the datus got off his horse and proceeded to transfer the sack onto the back of his stallion.  Despite the lady’s insistence in needing no help, the datu was adamant.  He asked the lady, who continued to look down and not meet the gaze of the datu, where she was heading. The lady hesitantly disclosed that she was going to the torogan of the Sultan. The datu was pleased to hear this and told her that it was to both their convenience as they had a common destination.

When the majestic torogan was of sight, and the entourage of warriors and the datus could be seen from the window of the torogan, sudden sounds of the kulintang (traditional gong instrument) and the debaka (drums) melodically filled the surroundings.  For the datus, it was the biggest torogan they had ever seen and the most intricately carved panolong (end beams) they have laid eyes on. They were impressed by the magnificence of the Sultan’s torogan.

As the datus were escorted by the warriors into a beautiful canopy with lovely decorated talam (low table) laid on matted floors, they could not help but feel immediate hunger from the aromatic scent of food that filled each talam. They were asked to be seated while waiting for the arrival of the Sultan. Music continued to be played in the background but this time accompanied by the traditional dance of kapagapir (fan dance) by graceful female dancers.

As they were being entertained, their eyes became riveted to the arrival of the most captivating bae labi they have ever laid sight on, accompanied by someone who looked familiar. They all soon realized that it was the head warrior of the entourage that received them, but this time looking very regal.  To their utter bewilderment, he was introduced to the datus as the Sultan of Mala a Bayabao.

He welcomed the four datus with such eloquence befitting only of a sultan.  He expressed his gratitude and appreciation for their presence and acceptance of his invitation. The Sultan emphasized that their lineage and wealth alone made them all suitable partners for his daughter.  He continued to say that although these qualities may be suffice for other fathers, it is not for his beloved princess.

The Sultan unveiled that he purposefully wanted the datus to travel without servants from their land of origin to see how self-sufficient they were. Next, he wanted to see who among them displayed humility, thus the reason for asking them to share a meal with the warriors. As a Muslim he had to observe the dhuhr prayer, which gave him an opportunity to see who among them were steadfast in keeping with their prayers.  The last observation came with the lady carrying a sack of rice. Then right at that moment, the breathtaking bae labi stood up.

She introduced herself using the most gentle of words and softest of tones while covering her mouth as what tradition dictates. She expressed her gratitude to the datu who assisted her in carrying the sack of rice and revealed that she is actually the daughter of the Sultan, the one to be married to the datu that will be chosen. This and the other revelations stunned the datus even more.

The Sultan spoke again. He asked for each of the datus to bring forth what he requested from each of them to bring, a precious gift for the bae labi.

The first datu brought forth a bedazzling gold bracelet. He explained that it was from the jewelry collection of his mother and that if he is chosen, he would have more to give to her among other riches.

The second datu said he himself is the precious gift to the bae labi, as he is the most handsome man in all of the Pat a Pangampong a Ranao, and that together, they can have beautiful offspring.

The third datu presented a salsilah (genealogy) as his gift.  He said that among all the eligible sons of sultans in the Pat a Pangampong a Ranao, he comes from the most powerful and well-known lineage. If chosen, he asserts that he can bring more stability to Mala a Bayabao.

The fourth and last datu had in hand something covered in a gorgeous landap (Meranaw garment). He said it is the oldest and most precious possession of his family.  Inside was a Koran that has surely seen many centuries. He said that it is his wish and that of his ancestors’ to continue a lineage of God-fearing servants of Allah and that he hopes his gift will be accepted by a lady whose values are the same.

The Sultan stood and said, “By the gifts that you have brought, it has been made lucidly clear to me who is the most deserving of my beloved princess. I have chosen the datu who exemplified best the qualities of a Muslim: self-sufficient; humble; pious; and helpful.”

The Sultan further explained that Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) states that if a man whose religion and character satisfies you and proposes marriage, he should be accepted (Sunan Al-Tirmidhi, 1084). It is for this reason, with the consent of the bae labi, that he will accept the offer of marriage of the only datu who passed all the five tests.

The bae labi and the datu were married in the simplest of ceremonies but enjoyed the grandeur of governing vast lands in peace and prosperity, guided by the most precious gift given to the bae labi by the datu many odd years ago: the Koran.

 End note:

The writer took inspiration from the Meranaw folk stories which always gave voice and significance to women in their narratives. With this story she also wanted to pay homage to her ancestors from her paternal side who come from Mala a Bayabao and bring to the forefront as well the influence Islam had on the perception, attitude, and ways of Meranaws.

 

Almayrah Tiburon

 

Alam ko ang direksyon ng aking mga paa kahit pa masakit sa balat ang tindi ng araw habang naglalakad. Wari’y patay ang hangin. Natatanaw ko na ang eskwelahang paglilipatan ko kay Coby habang hila-hila ko siya. Dinala ako rito ng sama ng loob at ang tanging dala sa araw na ito ay ang determinasyong makakatapos ng pag-aaral ang anak ko kahit pa ang totoo’y nasa Preschool pa lamang siya. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ganito ang nararamdaman ko, marahil nagmaratabat ako. Hindi ko kasi aakalaing may titser na gaya ng titser ng anak ko.

Bilang guro, gagawin ko ang lahat upang hubugin ang isipan at pagkatao ng mga mag-aaral. Naniniwala ako sa kanilang kakayahan at kinabukasan, tinitiyak na may access sila sa magagandang oportunidad, at hindi ko sila huhusgahan. Malaki ang aking responsibilidad sa kanilang tagumpay. Bumalik sa akin ang araw-araw na hinahatid-sundo ko ang anak ko, na lagi akong excited sa kanyang pagpasok. Mahirap mang isakatuparan ang aking misyon – pagsabayin ang maging ina at titser sa kolehiyo ngunit kailangan dahil alam kong walang ina na hindi kakayanin ang lahat para sa kanyang mga anak, gayundin na walang titser na susuko para sa kanilang mga mag-aaral.

Habang nagmamaneho at nakaupo ang bata’y kung ano-ano ang iniisip kong pangarap sa kanya kasama na ring umiikot sa isip ko kung ano ang magiging gusto niya paglaki.

Tuwing wala akong pasok at consultation hours ay sumasaglit ako sa eskwelahan nila, nasa labas ako ng klasrum gaya ng ibang magulang na nandoon, na kung sakaling kakailanganin ako ng titser niya ay nasa labas ako, at pagbukas ng pinto ay ako ang unang makita ng bata.

“Ipaulit na lamang po natin ang anak ninyo sa Junior Kinder (JK) dahil hindi kinakaya ng bata ang Senior Kinder (SK),” wika ni Teacher Mariam sa akin.

Nagulat ako sa sinabi niya pero pinakinggan ko siya. Inasikaso ko sa Registrar’s Office ang lahat upang makabalik ang bata sa JK. Hindi ko sinabi ang tunay na dahilan at ang paliwanag ko’y ako ang may gusto para hindi mahirapan ang bata.

“Sir, kung pwede po sanang sa titser pa rin manatili ang bata para hindi po siya malito. May tutor po kasi siya sa ibang klasrum tuwing lunch time. Kung iba na naman po ang magiging titser niya sa JK ay baka maguluhan po siya kung saan-saan siya klasrum dinadala,” ang mahaba kong paliwanag sa lalaking nasa harap ko.

Gawa ng pandemya’y napilitan ang gobyernong magkaroon ng module class na kung saan may mga mag-aaral na walang natutunan gaya ng kasalukuyang sitwasyon ni Coby. Nakita ng pamahalaan ang malaking epekto nito sa mag-aaral kaya nag-face-to-face classes ang bansa.

Masaya akong umuwi dahil nagawa ko ang gusto ng titser ni Coby at hindi na rin siguro mahirap ang mga lessons sa JK. Pagdating namin ng bahay ay agad binuksan ni Coby ang kanyang bag, kinuha ang lapis at notbuk at guhit nang guhit ng kung ano-ano. Mahilig gumuhit ang bata, nakakarami siya ng papel. Ito rin ang panahon para itsek ko ang kanyang lessons. Natatawa ako sa mga iginuguhit niya; mga tao, puno, shark, octopus, bridge.

“Coby, Anak, ano ito?”

Masaya niyang ikinuwento sa akin ang mga iyon, grabe ang imahinasyon niya at sa edad niyang limang taon ay ang galing niya sa kanyang ginagawa. Naisip ko tuloy si titser Mariam. Siguro tama ang kanyang desisyon dahil nag-aalala siya sa bata. Naalaala ko tuloy nong minsang hindi ko nasundo ang bata.

May miting ako ngayong araw, si Abdul nama’y hindi maganda ang pakiramdam kaya hindi nag-opisina. Dahil sa dami ng pinag-usapan sa miting at mga planong gawain ay lumagpas kami ng alas singko ng hapon samantalang nawala sa isip na sunduin si Coby kaninang alas tres.

Dali-dali akong umuwi upang itsek ang bata sa bahay bago tingnan siya sa kanyang eskwelahan. Pagbukas ko ng pinto’y nakita si Abdul sa sofa, si Coby at ang dalawang bunso na naglalaro. Napanatag ako at niyakap ang mga bata.

“Lagpas na ang oras na pagsundo kay Coby, nag-alala ako kaya sinundo ko siya kahit pa medyo nanlalabo ang mga mata ko dahil sa sakit ng ulo at marahil dahil na rin sa lagnat. Yung isang staff nila doon ay ipinagmaneho ako nang mapansing hindi maganda ang pakiramdam ko,” agad na winika ng asawa ko sa akin.

“Pasensya na,” ang tanging salitang lumabas sa bibig ko.

“Pagdating ko doon ay hindi umalis ang titser ni Coby dahil hindi pa raw nasundo ang bata. Hindi raw niya ito kayang iwan kahit pa malayo ang uuwian niya,” dugtong pa nito. Sa paliwanag ni Abdul ay nagpapasalamat ang loob ko, na pagpalain ang titser sa kanyang ginawa at sana patuloy na maging mabuti at patuloy ang pag-iintindi sa mga maliliit na mga bata. Gayundin na nagpapasalamat ako sa kabutihan ni Abdul.

Nasa kulturang Meranaw ang parental marriage. Natakot ako noon ngunit hindi ako nahirapang mahalin si Abdul, at ramdam ko rin ngayon ang buo niyang pagmamahal sa akin at sa mga bata. Hindi man kami nagkakilala o naging magkaibigan pero sa araw ng kasal namin ay nangako ako sa sarili na lagi-lagi ang aking pang-unawa at paggalang, na ipapakilala ang pagkalinga at pagdamay, na bubuo ng pangarap at tahanang puno ng pag-asa at kaligayahan. At tunay na hindi lamang namin binuklod ang aming bangsa kundi nagsama kami bilang panghambuhay na kasunduan.

Pitong taon na kami at may tatlong supling, si Coby na limang taong gulang, si Zainal na mahigit dalawang taong gulang. At si Sophia na isang taong gulang. Sa aming pagsasama, wala akong maalaalang naging mabigat na problema. Kung meron ma’y madaling nareresolba.

“Kung maganda sana ang pakiramdam ko’y hindi na ako magsasalita. Yung mga ganito’y hindi dapat nakakalimutan.” Ang paalaala ni Abdul. Hindi na ako tumugon at patuloy na nakikinig sa kanya.

Matapos naming maghapunan ay pinatulog ko ang mga bata. Gusto ko sanang pag-usapan ang nangyari kanina pero minabuti kong pagpahingain si Abdul. Nagising ako hatinggabi. Hinila ni Abdul ang kumot. Namaluktot sa pagkakahiga. Hinaplos ko ang kanyang noo. Mataas ang lagnat. Bumilis ang tibok ng puso ko. Dali-dali kong kinuha ang thermometer. Inayos ko at inilagay sa kanyang kili-kili. Ilang saglit pa’y tumunog ito. 38.6 Celsius. Nataranta akong kumuha ng gamot. Pinainom ko siya. Nananalangin na hindi siya nagka-COVID. Ilang saglit pa’y narinig ko ang malalakas niyang hilik.

Kinaumagahan. Inihanda ko ang plangganang may mainit na tubig, pinagtuob ko ang aking asawa at matapos ang ilang minuto’y umupo siyang basang-basa ng pawis. Nagpakulo ako ng luya at katas ng kalamansi at ipinainom sa kanya.

“Ordinaryong trangkaso lang ito. Salamat ko kasisiyapangka raken. Mahal na mahal kita,” wika niya. Niyakap ko siya nang buong higpit bilang pagpapadama ng pagmamahal at marahil ay paghingi na rin ng tawad sa nangyari kahapon.

“Paglaki nila,” nakatingin ako sa mga batang himbing na himbing sa pagtulog, “Ano’ng gusto mong maging ng mga anak mo?”

“Kahit na ano basta yung gusto nila na makakabuti sa kanila.”

“Saan mo sila gustong magkolehiyo?”

“Ayaw kong malayo sila sa atin kasi mahirap silang gabayan kapag ganun.”

“Ako rin, okey na rin dito sa MSU – Marawi sila mag-aral. Marami rin namang pumapasa rito sa board exam at nagta-top pa. Bukod doon ay malamig ang klima rito.”

“Hindi lang din yun kundi ayaw kong makalimot sila sa kanilang sariling kultura at relihiyon. Sa panahon ngayon ay kailangan lalong gabayan ang mga bata. Hindi naman sa ayaw natin silang maging masaya, na ayaw natin silang mag-explore pero gusto kong lagi nila tayong nakikita at nakokonsulta. Nalampasan nating dalawa ang Marawi siege at kahit na ano pa mang mangyari ay malalampasan din natin basta magkakasama tayong lahat.” Ang mahabang paliwanag ni Abdul. Masaya akong pinag-uusapan naming mag-asawa ang tungkol sa mga bata.

Kinabukasan, hinatid ko si Coby sa eskwelahan nila at umalis na agad dahil may klase rin ako sa pamantasang tinuturuan. Hindi ko alam pero tila kinakabahan ako ng araw na iyon. Pagkatapos na pagkatapos ng klase ko sa hapon ay pumunta agad sa eskwelahan ng anak ko.

Habang hinihintay mabuksan ang pinto ng klasrum ay narinig kong malakas ang boses ng titser sa loob na tinawag ang anak ko’t pinauupo. Kinabahan ako. “Ano ang nangyari? Anong ginawa ni Coby? Bakit napalakas ang boses ni Titser Mariam? Nagtatakbo na naman ba ang bata? “Anong kakulitan ang ginawa?” Ang mga tanong sa isip ko. Sa ilang saglit pa’y nabuksan ang pinto. Hinintay ng titser na makalabas ang lahat at kinausap ako sa loob, na makulit daw ang bata, ang gusto ay paglalaro lang, at nagpaiyak ng kaklase.

“Titser din po ako at alam po natin na hindi lahat ng klase natin ay perpekto, na nagkakataon na may makulit sa kanila, at hamon po sa atin yun bilang isang titser. Aminado po akong makulit at malikot ang anak ko pero huwag po sana nating hayaan na isara ang puso natin sa bawat mag-aaral, huwag po natin silang sukuan,” ang mahaba kong mga salita sa kanya.

Gabi. Habang nakahiga kami ng mga bata ay kinausap ko ang kuya nila.

“Coby, Anak, don’t push anyone and don’t run inside the classroom, okay?”

“Okay,” sabay tango.

“Don’t be naughty and always listen to your teacher, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Huwag umihi sa pants. Tell to your teacher na pupunta ka sa CR, okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Ina.”

Niyakap ko siya nang buong higpit bago nakatulog ang bata. Samantalang ako’y hindi nakatulog nang maayos ng gabing iyon. Patuloy sa isip ko si Coby at ang kanyang eskwelahan kahit pa nang kinabukasang ihatid siya. Katatapos lang ng klase ko ng hapong iyon at papunta sa opisina. Biglang tumunog ang phone ko.

“Puntahan niyo po ang anak ninyo kasi umihi po siya sa pants at sobra na pong nagkukulit dito, wala po kaming matapos dahil sa kanya,” ang text ng titser ni Coby.

Halos lumipad ang sasakyan ko papunta sa eskwelahan ng bata. Pagbukas ng pinto ay nakita ko ang anak ko at patakbo siyang lumapit sa akin.

“I love you, Ina!” Agad akong niyakap na tila naghahanap ng kakampi. Dali-dali niyang kinuha ang kanyang sapatos.

“Let’s go home, Ina!” Ang kanyang pamimilit habang hila-hila niya ako. Pinaghahalikan ko siya upang iparamdam na nandito ako.

“Ma’am, ilipat niyo po ang bata dahil hindi po namin kaya ang kanyang kakulitan. Hindi po dahil sa umihi siya pero yung ugali po niya,” wika niya na tila pasan niya ang daigdig dahil sa anak ko. “Ginagawa po namin ang lahat sa mga bata. Yung iba po, isang buwan ay nagbabago pero yung anak ninyo’y mahigit isang buwan na siya rito pero ganun pa rin po siya,” dugtong pa.

“I love you, Teacher Mariam.” Niyakap niya ang titser niya at lumapit din sa kanilang teacher aid, “I love you, Teacher Farrah.” Sabay paalam sa kanila. Ito ang kinagawian niyang gawin sa mga titser niya bago umuwi.

Pag-uwi namin ay hindi ako nagsasalita. Sobrang lungkot ko. Ang alam ko, hindi dapat sumusuko ang mga titser sa kahit sinong mag-aaral nila. Kung alam ko lang na susukuan ng titser na iyon ang bata ay hindi ko na pina-repeat o di kaya’y hindi na nakiusap sa Registrar’s Office para manatili ang anak ko sa kanya. Hindi mawawala at magpapapigil sa kakulitan niya kung ipa-repeat siya sa JK dahil kung talagang makulit siya ay makulit siya sa JK man siya o sa SK, na dapat may gawin ang titser para kung hindi man matigil ang kakulitan ng bata ay ma-minimize.

“May problema ba?” Tanong ni Abdul sa akin pagdating niya mula opisina.

Kinuwento ko sa asawa ko ang lahat.

“Ilipat mo na lang. Maghanap tayo ng eskwelahan para kay Coby. Hayaan mo na,” niyakap niya ako at hindi ko inaasahang mapahagulgol.

Naalaala ko pa isang araw nang sunduin ko si Coby. Pagbukas ng pinto’y excited akong makita ang anak ko at makinig sa kanyang mga kwento. Natupad din kasi ang pangarap kong eskwelahan para sa kanya at ipinagmamalaki kong dito siya nag-aaral.

“Ma’am, pasok po muna kayo,” ang sabi ni Teacher Farrah habang itinuro sa akin si Coby na umiiyak katabi ni Teacher Mariam.

Agad akong lumapit at nanghina nang makita ang bukol at pasa ng bata sa kanang mukha. Ang sabi ng dalawang titser ay nadapa raw ang bata at isang oras nang umiiyak.

“Titser, hayaan niyo na po, tatahan din po ito. Ganito naman po talaga ang isang bata, hindi po ba? Kailangan lang pong habaan natin ang pasensya sa kanila.” Naging panatag ang titser marahil dahil takot na baka magalit ako dahil hindi nila nabantayan ang bata.

Mahigit isang buwan na’y hindi ko alam kung bakit hindi pa rin nawawala ang pasa at ang bukol. Nang huling araw ni Coby sa eskwelahang iyon ay may pasa siya sa kaliwang kamay na tila kinurot. Ito marahil ang dahilan at nagtulak sa akin upang maghanap ng ibang eskwelahan niya. Yung bukol at pasa sa mukha ay baka nga nadapa pero yung pasa sa kamay ay halatang kinurot.

“Good afternoon po. Gusto ko po sanang ipa-transfer dito ang anak ko,” sabay abot sa prinsipal ang dala kong mga dokumento. “May slots pa po ba,” dugtong ko.

“Ma’am, ipa-diagnostic test pa po natin ang anak ninyo para ma-assess po natin ang bata,” wika ng prinsipal.

“Okey po, wala pong problema kasi matalino naman po ang bata. Pwede ko po siyang kunin sa bahay ngayon at dalhin dito.”

Habang binabagtas ang kalsadang pauwi sa amin ay naalaala ko nang ipinagbubuntis ko si Coby sa panahon ng gyera sa Marawi noong 2017.

Walang araw na hindi minasdan, hinaplos at pinakiramdaman ang tiyan. Ang bawat galaw niya  sa sinapupunan ay ninanamnam ko. Gustung-gusto ko tuwing gumagalaw siya dahil doon ko natitiyak na buhay at masaya rin siya. Nag-iingat ako sa bawat pagkain na isinusubo. Ipinaparinig ang boses ko bago matulog at gayun din tuwing paggising. Hindi ko alam kung naririnig niya ang bomba’t putukan sa paligid pero alam kong mas naririnig niya ang bawat tibok ng puso ko na nagsasabing “mahal na mahal ko siya.” At ang bawat pag-iingat ko sa paglalakad ay siya niyang duyan upang makarelaks at makatulog. Sa saglit na maiidlip ay biglang babagsak ang bomba sa hatinggabi at panay ang panalangin na baka magkamali ang bomba’t sa bahay bumagsak kasabay na nayayanig ang mga bintanang tila ibig kumawala sa kanyang kinalalagyan.

Bumalik ako mula sa aking pagninilay. Narito na’t natatanaw ang eskwelahang paglilipatan ko sa aking anak. Maliit ang eskwelahang ito sa dating pinapasukan ng bata, pati ang klasrum ay halos kalahati sa dati niyang klasrum. Maliit din ang playground. Ang importante ay nakita ko sa magiging titser niya na may tiyaga at dedikasyon sa kanyang trabaho.

Naging maayos naman ang exam ni Coby at inasiko na ang mga babayaran sa Cashier’s office. Kumuha na rin ako ng magiging tutor ng bata. Sa loob ko, habang pauwi kami’y maging maayos sana ang kalagayan niya sa nilipatang eskwelahan, na masaya na rin ang titser sa dating eskwelahan niya dahil nabunutan ng tinik, na pasalamat siya dahil inisip ko ang magiging kalagayan ng kanyang pamilya lalo na ang mga anak niya kung sakaling matatanggal siya sa trabaho.

Tiningnan ko ang anak ko habang hawak niya ang kanyang lapis, patuloy siya sa kanyang pagguguhit. Iguguhit niya ang pangarap niya at hindi ko hahayaan na ang pangarap na iyon ay manatiling pangarap lamang.

At tila nga ginuhit ng tadhana ang lahat ayon sa kanyang mga pangarap. Lumipas ang mga taon, at ang batang minsang iniyakan ko sa labas ng silid-aralan ay ngayo’y patuloy na nagbibigay ng karangalan—Top 2 noong nagtapos sa Senior Kinder, Top 3 sa Grade 1, at kasama sa Top 5 ngayong Grade 2.

Ngunit higit sa mga medalya, ang pinakamasarap pakinggan ay ang tawa niya—ang tawang minsang napalitan ng iyak at takot.

Isang hapon, nadatnan ko siyang tahimik sa lamesa, hawak ang kanyang lumang lapis. Sa harap niya ay guhit ng tulay, mga dike, at ilog na hindi na umaapaw. Sa ilalim ay nakasulat: “So the people won’t drown again.”

Umupo ako sa tabi niya. “Coby,” tanong ko, “why do you always draw bridges?”

Tumingala siya, payapa at tiyak ang mga mata.

“Because, Ina,” aniya, “you told me never to stop drawing my dreams. So, I’m building the bridge that will take me there.”

Hindi ko napigilang mapangiti at mapaluha. Sa bawat guhit ng kanyang lapis ay nabubura ang lahat ng sakit ng nakaraan.

Sa likuran namin ay tumakbo si Zainal, may hawak na laruan.

“Kuya, look! I built a bridge too!” sigaw niya habang itinapat sa mesa ang mga pinagdugtong na laruang kahoy.

Sumabay namang tumawa si Sophia, yakap-yakap ang lumang teddy bear.

“Kuya Coby draw! Me, I color!” sabi niya habang inaabot ang krayola.

Ngumiti si Coby. “See, Ina? We’re all builders here.”

Pumasok si Abdul, pagod ngunit may dalang mga plano mula sa proyekto sa flood control ng DPWH. “So, engineer Coby,” biro niya, “are you teaching your brother and sister how to build bridges, too?”

“Yes, Ama!” mabilis na sagot ni Coby. “We’re going to build bridges everywhere—so people can always come home.”

Natawa si Abdul at umupo sa tabi niya. “Remember, anak,” wika niya, “real bridges are not only made of cement. They’re built with honesty… and love.”

“Like you, Ama?” tanong ni Coby.

“Yes,” sagot niya, sabay sulyap sa akin, “and like your Ina—who built the first bridge for all of you, with her courage and her faith.”

Tahimik akong napaluha. Hinawakan ko ang kamay nilang tatlo.

“Coby, Zainal, Sophia,” sabi ko, “when you grow up, remember this: no flood, no storm, and no failure can ever drown a heart that knows how to love and believe.”

Tumingin sa akin si Coby at ngumiti.

“I will remember, Ina. And when I grow up, I’ll build bigger bridges… so no one will ever be left behind.”

Natawa si Zainal. “Me too, Ina! I’ll build the strongest bridge!”

At sabay sigaw ni Sophia, “And I’ll color the sky!”

Sa gabing iyon, habang pinagmamasdan ko silang magkakapatid na mahimbing sa pagtulog, naramdaman ko ang katahimikan ng puso kong matagal ding napagod.

Ang lapis na minsang ginamit ko upang isulat ang pangalan ni Coby sa enrollment form, ay siya ring lapis na ngayon ay humahawak sa pangarap naming lahat—isang lapis na ngayo’y pinapasa sa kamay ng tatlong batang natutong mangarap nang may puso.

At sa bawat guhit ng lapis ni Coby, ni Zainal, at ni Sophia, naririnig ko ang bulong ng Allah sa puso ko: “You did well. You believed when no one else did.”

At doon ko napagtanto—ang mga tulay ay hindi lang gawa sa bakal at bato. Ang pinakamatibay na tulay ay iyong iginuhit ng isang ina, isang ama, at tatlong batang naniwalang kaya nilang baguhin ang mundo…sa pamamagitan ng isang lapis.

 

Sheilfa B. Alojamiento

She said marriage is a trap. Comfortable at first, but after a while, you’d get numb dumb from the repetitiousness of it. She just turned 50. I recall how, when we were both in our twenties, we already had a thousand reviews that went like that.

And him. I do remember him. A younger him, maybe, but older already, having walked through hell as a construction worker in KSA, jobless at some point and had to convert to Islam, then found succor in the hands of tougher women whom he had to repay with love and sex and respect despite himself. That was the working-class credentials that made her choose him over the middle-class doctor-suitors she knew.

She said what he wanted from her was a son. He said to her he was not getting any younger, and so was she. But at the time they were seeing each other, she was not yet finished with her internship, so she made sure she would not get pregnant. I had by then shipped my own ersatz daughter to my sister’s in-laws in La Union. It kind of irked me when she said, You will feel something after all.

Feel what?

If you bled when you should be gestating?

Gestating oh my God. But I kept quiet. I was thinking, she will marry. She will have a son and I just lost a daughter, and she’s going with him. She will go to Saudi Arabia and they will make a lot of money and I will have no one.

Then he came over. That was the first time I saw him. Also, the first time I saw them together. He was handsome and kind in an unburdened and uncommitted way and he never tried talking to me. Just smiled politely and uncondescendingly. It puzzled me somewhat. Like, did he know it was my friend he was taking from me? For he didn’t seem aware of it. Like he wasn’t the taker. But there he was, as if he was just there to take her out to the park or to a movie downtown, nothing to it that would hurt nobody, only that it was something good to do since he never thought of it before and never had the opportunity.

A couple of years later, she did give him a son. The boy was her replica. I was kind of distraught. I have this idea that when men ask for a son, it’s because they want something to look like them that would reflect them. Something they can mark out as theirs that would proclaim their progeny long after they are dead. A genetic conceit, could be, and with him you can understand that: he is good-looking and a kind man besides. She wasn’t bad-looking either, just a little fat and shapeless, as though whoever made her made sure that no bones jutted out. And that’s what she gave him: more of her.

We used to joke a lot about couples we knew. Friends we saw who married beneath them. What happened to her? She got lonely? Couldn’t find another? But now there was no joke. For he wasn’t so bad though neither a doctor nor a poet nor an intellectual. Now I couldn’t say to her, What went wrong? You panicked?

I gathered that the three of them, and especially father and son, get along fine. Like they’re friends, buddies, now that they’re all grown-up. So, I said to her, It happens everywhere, you should not take it against yourself or against anyone.

Then they showed up in my house. God, they looked awful. A neighbor said a red car was around looking for me. I was in Green Meadows then, in this house, a spacious airy house with light furniture and a low makeshift shelf full of books. She must have noticed that when she got inside: no lumpy couches that bumped against one’s knees, no JVC, no coffeemaker no dining set no fancy paintings decking the walls.

They sat there on the big rattan chair. I could see that the two of them were having a little quarrel, like the husband had been commandeered against his wishes to drive, from downtown Davao to outskirt Mintal just to look for this crazy friend from way back in his wife’s youth. He didn’t even try to hide his resentment at getting seated there in that poor rattan chair which by his standards must be nothing but ragtag poor, including the uncurtained jalousies and the sagging bamboo gate that greeted them outside.

I suppose I wasn’t so welcoming either. I don’t even remember hugging her, which was our way, always hugging, and I didn’t even offer them a drink, not even biscuits, as there was none, just water and more water inside the nice tall Condura fridge which I bought for eight a year and a half back but would be carted off by a neighbor friend for two by and by in several months’ installments. What I can remember saying was how the two of them were growing thick in the middle and he didn’t even respond to that, not with a smirk or a glance up at me, and she didn’t return the compliment by saying how consumptive sick I looked, just laughed a little and said, Yes, it’s the iced tea. I had to smile a bit at the reminder, for it was an addiction she had passed on to me for a little while.

Then she went over to the refrigerator. She stood there and opened it like it belonged to her, the way she used to when we shared a house and a kitchen, standing back and looking down without even bending a little, because there was nothing inside except bottles and bottles of cold water. And then she turned to me saying could I go with them or could I see her, was it the day after, say at Victoria Plaza or was it to visit her in her Mom’s house in Marawi, and I don’t remember if the husband excused himself and went to the waiting car outside as we talked, but she managed to quip in one thing or another, that he wanted to go to his friends, college pals he roomed with when he was a college boy at UM, friends from his bachelor days to drink and party with or have a reunion, and she kind of dragged him in another direction that spoiled all his joys.

I felt sorry. Suddenly, now that she was taking leave, I wanted her to stay. But I just nodded. Maybe because I could see that the two of them were really harried and were on their way elsewhere and her Mommy and some of both families were downtown waiting with the little son, and so we said goodbye. But I was thinking, why didn’t she take the jeep why didn’t she drive she could have brought with her the son and the yaya. Then I remembered they didn’t allow women to drive cars in KSA and I thought, but they’re in the Philippines now why enforce a physical closeness with another fellow when the two of you thought differently why force oneself into a physical dependence on one who perhaps did not have a strong need to be needed to fix the door to drive the car and look after folks and such.

Oh. I was just jealous. Petro-dollars, a six-digit salary on top of a second-hand dream red car from a carnapper in Marawi, perhaps a drug dealer, and that knot of family and friends surrounding her admiring her. I recalled though that just sometime back she was messaging me and cussing her husband, calling him imbecile, cussing the mutawas, the Islamic police in KSA, where you could not go out alone, where there was nothing that you could do outside your house that would not mark you as a prostitute. Notes from hell, I called them, to a deeper hell where at the time of her visit I didn’t want to show her the cracks of, but I could bet she saw it in the empty cold crypt of an unransacked refrigerator.

After she moved to another country, or to two other countries, she wasn’t so angry anymore. No more Islamic police to bedevil her, and so she kind of regained composure. And then she started self-analyzing again, post-morteming her husband, our friends, anyone she found fault with. But I wasn’t sure anymore. It might have been my own unvented anger I was projecting on her all along. For we had parted ways for a long time, and not just she and I; there were ugly fights here and there, between family and between erstwhile comrades and friends. You could say we’d stopped following each other now to know where the other was, geographically, politically.

I have had so many other thoughts since I last thought of her. Found other friends. Loves big and small. Some with hells so much vaster than mine, and some dying there, unhelped, as mostly, mostly, I wasn’t there, too.

Najhanne Buat Asum 

“Omar!”

“Omar!”

The muffled shouts of my name pulled me from my earphones. I glanced out the window to see my older sister, Kaka Jam, calling for me.

“Go fishing with Abi,” she yelled, pointing towards the lake where Abi was busy preparing the bangca under the scorching sun.

“But I’m doing something!” I yelled back, about to plug in my earphones, when I saw her throw down the basket she was holding.

“What’s wrong with you? You never go out to the lake anymore!”

I ignored her. What does she mean, what’s wrong with me? I guess I’ve just grown. I’m no longer interested in going to the lake to catch fish with Abi like I used to when I was a kid. Now, I’m chasing something bigger, something better than the fish in the lake. I want to become a well-known actor in Manila.

An hour later, I paused the video when a notification popped up at the top of my screen. I lifted myself from the bed and hurriedly checked it. Hunched forward, shoulders tight, I held my breath. I hoped.

And just like that, I knew I was one step closer to my dream. My online audition for Starbust Entertainment had been accepted, and I was going to be one of the supporting actors for a new movie. I nodded with certainty, whispering to myself, “Manila, here comes Eli.” I smiled proudly at the thought of finally using the stage name I had created years ago.

With courage, I went out of my room. I prepared with all my might, rehearsing in my head how I would tell Kaka and Abi the news.

“As-salamu alaykum!” I jumped out of my seat when I heard Kaka Jam.

“Wa alaikumu salam! Kaka!” I greeted her excitedly as I guided her to her seat.

She looked at me with eyebrows drawn together, confusion and annoyance clear on her face. “What has gotten into you lately? What is this all about?”

When she was finally seated, I told her about the news.

“Manila!? You are leaving Balindong?” she exclaimed. I had seen it coming, though.

“Kaka, come on,” I pleaded. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! You know how much I dreamed of this, you know how much I wanted this.”

“No. Absolutely not, Omar!” she said with finality.

“But Kaka, you know this is not just about leaving,” I persisted. “It’s chasing my dream! It’s a whole different thing!”

“Leaving is the bottom line here! You are leaving Balindong for Manila!”

I fell silent. I know all this fuss wasn’t because she refused to support me. It was because she was afraid. Afraid that once I left, I would turn my back on them completely and let Manila swallow me whole. My constant plans to move, the dreams I spoke of again and again, and the countless times she caught me searching for places to stay in the city… all of it must have fueled her fear.

Just then, the sound of the front door opening sliced through the heavy silence. It was Abi.

“What’s all the commotion?” he asked, confusion in his voice as he dropped the basket he was holding.

Kaka wasted no time explaining the situation, even exaggerating my desire to abandon everything. I watched Abi nervously, waiting for his verdict. He stood still, eyes fixed on me, studying my face for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, contemplative.

Finally, he spoke.

“Let him go, Jam.”

My jaw dropped. Kaka’s face contorted with disappointment, but she remained silent when she noticed Abi’s seriousness.

“Thank you, Abi!” I exclaimed.

Kaka ignored me the rest of the day. Abi, on the other hand, even helped me with packing. That night, I could barely sleep out of excitement.

The next morning, I practically bounced out of bed. I nearly inhaled my meal, unable to wait to arrive in Manila, where my dreams awaited. An hour later, Abi told me the van had arrived.

When I got to the van after sharing a few words and a hug with Abi, I couldn’t help but look forward to what awaited me. I still couldn’t believe all of this was happening.

I looked out the window as the beautiful Lake Lanao receded into the distance. That’s when I felt a pang of sadness tug at my heart, still hurting at the thought of leaving home, Abi, and Kaka Jam. However, the image of myself acting alongside other actors quickly distracted me and pushed those emotions aside. I shook my head. For now, I should focus on my acting career, on becoming the actor I dreamed of.

Finally landing in Manila, I couldn’t hide my happiness. Now that I had arrived, I had to work my way toward becoming a successful actor.

And I did. Ten months in, the movie I acted in became a major hit, receiving high ratings. I also gained recognition—my Instagram account soared to 300k followers, and offers came from every direction. The movie was certainly the talk of the town.

I should be happy by now, though. I am where I have wanted to be.

But somehow, I never felt accomplished. Like something was constantly missing.

“Eli!”

“Eli!”

I only returned to reality when my manager, James, called me. I had been spacing out again. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt lost, adrift in a place I should have known by now, after ten months.

“Some supporters recognized you earlier. They were calling for you, but you didn’t respond. Are you okay? You’ve been like this lately.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

I knew I had wanted Eli as my stage name, but somehow, lately, the name felt foreign. Hearing it spoken felt like hearing someone else’s name.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom, splashing water on my face in an attempt to wash away the confusion. As I dried my hands, a voice stopped me.

“Omar?”

That name. Just moments ago, I had felt lost, but now, hearing it, I suddenly felt found.

I turned around to see who it was. It was Hassan, a good friend from childhood and also my first cousin.

“Has—” I began, but my manager’s voice called from outside the bathroom.

“Eli! We’re leaving, just waiting for you!”

Disappointment flashed across Hassan’s face.

“Oh! Sorry, I thought you were someone I knew,” he said, starting to walk away.

I stopped him. “It’s me, Hassan! Omar!”

He hesitated, still unsure.

“Saken aya, si Omar.” I added, full of hope that he would finally recognize me.

He smiled, finally recognizing me, and stepped forward for a hug. I felt an unexplainable joy, being seen for who I really was, being called Omar again, speaking my language.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Art exhibition,” he replied. “I painted Lake Lanao. It got accepted for an exhibition.” That explained the malong he was wearing.

“Do you have the time? Let’s go out!” I invited him eagerly.

And so, I excused myself from the team and went out with Hassan. We headed to a nearby coffee shop. At first, we just caught up. He shared about his exhibition, and I told him about my acting career, which he was only learning about now. For someone not into watching series, I understood his surprise.

Later, what started as a normal catching-up session turned into something deeper. I found myself telling him everything I had been feeling lately, about the emptiness, the feeling of being lost, even after reaching the place I had been dreaming of.

“You asked earlier if it’s wrong to chase the dream of acting. I don’t think it is. There’s nothing wrong with aiming to go further with your dreams—”

“Then, if it is not, why am I feeling like this? Why does it make me want to regret even coming here? It doesn’t make any sense.”

He sighed and gave me a reassuring smile. “You know, Omar, most people who feel lost are those who forget to stay rooted in where they come from.”

My brow furrowed. What is he trying to say?

“When was the last time you called home?”

And there, I understood him. I knew what he meant. I had been too busy in Manila to even  reach out. I couldn’t remember the last time I called, the last time we shared a conversation. By now, I was afraid and in denial. I didn’t want to admit to myself that maybe Kaka Jam had been right from the beginning, that I had made her fear come true, leaving them entirely as I fully embraced my dream.

“Omar, there’s nothing wrong with going far, with exploring the world. Just stay rooted all the time. That way, you won’t get lost. You can reach for the furthest star, but if you forget where you came from, you’d simply be like a bird simply flying around aimlessly.”

My head kept replaying his words, filled with memories of home and the life of Omar.

The conversation I had with Hassan made me decide to go back home for a while. I knew I had to find myself again, and I could only do that in the place that gave me the identity of who I truly was—Omar, a Meranaw.

When I arrived at our place, I saw the lake from the van’s window. I felt the familiar warmth of home. I recalled what Hassan had told me about how the lake gave us the identity of being Meranaw. Seeing it once again made me feel truly back, not only in Balindong, but also in myself.

As we finally arrived at our place, Abi and Kaka awaited me. Reaching them, Kaka greeted me with a playful smack on the forearm.

“So you still remember your way back here, huh?” she smiled. I replied with a teasing grin.

I looked at Ama, who was smiling. I remembered how he had allowed me to go to Manila so easily, how he had set me out to chase my dream, and now here he was, watching me return with a greater love for my culture and home. Maybe he knew how to make me come back.

“We missed you, son. We’re glad you’re back.”

“I’m glad I’m back, too, Abi.”

Adawia J. Jamasali

It was an unusual day in September for Melyn. She sat outside her house, frowning the whole morning. It was so unlike her. Usually, her mornings were filled with gossip about her neighbor, Mrs. Abdulla, whose sons and daughters were already professionals and based in Zamboanga City.

Melyn would proudly tell her other neighbors, Jumma and Nora, that she had seen with her own eyes how sad Mrs. Abdulla looked when she went out to throw the garbage. It was because she was alone in the house. Her huge mansion was useless now, since all her children had their own lives. Her sadness was unfathomable, worsened by the fact that her elderly husband—bedridden—was not with her, but with his second wife, who was far too young for him. Life must have been cruel to Mrs. Abdulla, leaving her stuck in Sulu and all alone.

Jumma and Nora would listen attentively to Melyn and even admire how credible and detailed her information about Mrs. Abdulla was.

Just yesterday, the three of them spent the whole day talking about the mysterious man who visited Mrs. Abdulla. He was new to them. They didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t a relative or a known friend of any of Mrs. Abdulla’s children.

The man, who appeared to be in his early twenties, was tall and slim. He wore a black face mask, a black hat, and black sunglasses. His black shirt was plain, with no prints or logos. He seemed very mysterious.

He rang the bell at Mrs. Abdulla’s house around ten in the morning, while Melyn and her companions were still arguing about the garbage truck, which was running late in their village. After a few minutes, Mrs. Abdulla, now in her late sixties, slowly opened the gate. She silently nodded to the man and invited him inside. Melyn and her two friends watched in silence. Mrs. Abdulla locked the gate, and the two disappeared into the mansion.

The three women were now very curious about what they had just seen. Instead of going back to their respective homes to do chores, they stayed, waiting for the man to come out so they could ask him who he was. Jumma said she had asked her husband to do the laundry, while Nora, luckily, had no one at home, so they had the entire day to keep watch. Melyn, on the other hand, told her nephews to buy their own food since she couldn’t cook for them because of the unfolding drama.

They brought out their plastic chairs and sat outside Melyn’s house. While waiting for more action from Mrs. Abdulla’s residence, they gossiped, laughed, and poked fun at their topics.

But today, Melyn was frowning. She couldn’t compose herself. She was wondering why the man hadn’t come out of the mansion since yesterday. He must’ve spent the night there. But who was he? How was he connected to Mrs. Abdulla?

She was also puzzled that Mrs. Abdulla hadn’t gone out that morning to throw out the garbage, as she usually did. What could the two of them be doing? Could they be romantically involved? But that didn’t make sense—how could a man in his twenties fall in love with an old woman? Unless… he was after Mrs. Abdulla’s pension.

Melyn stood up and walked toward Mrs. Abdulla’s gate. She craned her neck, trying to catch sight of either the woman or the mysterious man, but to no avail. She looked at her wristwatch. No one was coming out. And soon, her friends would arrive. She had no new information to offer them this time.

She returned to her plastic chair. Eventually, she saw Jumma and Nora approaching with their chairs and paper bags of snacks. They greeted one another and positioned themselves beside Melyn.

Jumma, in her late forties, a small woman with a flat tummy, brought out the snack she had prepared: pastil, a Tausug delicacy with bihon-filled dough fried to a crisp.

“Any news today, Melyn?” she asked while chewing her first bite.

“No,” Melyn admitted sadly.

Melyn was a few years older than Jumma. She was tall and heavyset, often mistaken to be pregnant because of her protruding belly. But she was a spinster. She was manly and nagging, and no man had ever seriously pursued her, much less married her. She had lived alone for years, though her siblings had entrusted some of their children to her care.

“That’s sad, Melyn. I thought you’d feed us with some juicy news today,” Nora chimed in.

Nora was the oldest of the three. Tall and fair-skinned, she must have been beautiful in her youth—she still carried traces of it. She was married to a police officer who was often away on duty. Their three daughters were studying in Cebu City. When her husband was at work, she spent most of her time with Melyn, gossiping.

Melyn remained silent while the two women enjoyed their snacks.

“Oh, this is so delicious,” Nora exclaimed. “Where did you buy this?”

“At Sitti’s,” Jumma replied.

“I see. That explains it.”

“Yeah, you know how good she is at baking and cooking. The other day, I bought daral and putli mandi, and the kids devoured everything right away. They loved it,” Jumma said as she chewed another bite of pastil.

“Melyn, try some—it’s really good,” Nora offered.

Melyn leaned toward them but didn’t take any food.

“They still haven’t come out,” she finally said.

The women looked at her, puzzled.

“But why? How did they cook breakfast this morning?” Nora asked.

“Yeah, and what clothes did that handsome guy wear to bed?” Jumma added with a smirk.

“Do you think they slept?” Nora asked again.

“Why wouldn’t they?” Jumma replied.

“Oh come on, Jumma! When it’s just two people alone in a house, what else would they do? Cook?” Nora laughed.

“But I didn’t hear any cooking last night. Not even a voice,” Melyn interrupted.

“Oh my God! Do you think they’re dead by now?” Nora shrieked.

“Shut up!” Melyn and Jumma snapped at the same time.

“We have to figure out what happened,” Melyn said softly.

The two women leaned in to listen. Then, they all continued talking, eating, and laughing in their chairs well past noon. The sun was high and the heat oppressive. Still no sign of life from Mrs. Abdulla’s house.

By late afternoon, Nora and Jumma were stretching and yawning. Mrs. Abdulla and the stranger were still nowhere in sight.

“I have to go home and cook dinner. See you tomorrow, Melyn,” Nora finally said.

“Me too. Let’s keep watch again tomorrow,” Jumma added.

Melyn was left alone in her chair, her eyes fixed on her neighbor’s house. As darkness fell, she stood and walked to Mrs. Abdulla’s gate. She rang the doorbell. No response. She rang it again. Still nothing.

Frustrated, Melyn’s face flushed red. She began to push the doorbell more aggressively, over and over. The bell rang loudly inside the house. Its echo traveled through the halls of the mansion, then spread to nearby houses, then farther, until the whole neighborhood heard it.

Melyn’s strength began to fade as she gasped for air, still pushing the button endlessly.

Some neighbors came out of their homes, curious about the strange sound. Dogs barked. Cats spun in circles, chasing their tails. Even Jumma and Nora peeked outside, looking up at the sky in search of the sound’s source. When they couldn’t find it, they returned to their sofas, turned on the TV, and munched on popcorn.

At exactly 6 o’clock, the Azan echoed from the village Masjid. Amid the call to prayer, the doorbell kept ringing.

Some families began dinner. Others rose to perform Maghrib prayer.

Only one person remained at the gate, still pressing the doorbell: Melyn.