Month: December 2018

Pangarap ni Fahed

Poetry by | December 23, 2018

Salaysay sa akin ni Inay
Nasa sinapupunan pa lamang ako
May digmaan nang sumiklab sa Gaza.
At nang pumasok ako sa Madrasah
Natigil naman itong pansamantala
Dahil binomba pati ang aming eskwela.
Kahit na noong minsang nakipaglaro ako
Sa kalsada kasama sina Bashaar at Saleh
Nagsasalitan ang aming mga sigaw
Sa nakabibinging putukan ng mga baril.
Napakalalim ng sugat sa mukha ng galak
Pagkat sa lupa sindak ang namumulaklak.
Sa bayan walang nakakikilala
Nang dalisay na pagmamahal
Pagkat ang laging nakakasalamuha
Sa palibot ay ang matinding poot.
Mapusyaw ang kulay ng bukas
Pagkat ang usok ng pulbura’y
Ulap na humahabong sa papawirin.
Ngunit may pakpak ang aking pangarap
Matulin naming liliparin ni Buraq
Ang paraisong bukal ng karunungan,
Isang masigasig na pakikipagsapalaran
Na tanging layunin ay sunsunin
Ang kapayapaang kaytagal nang naglaho
Kasabay ng aming mga awit, tula at kuwento,
Mga pamanang itinatangi ng buong lahi.

Agosto 9, 2014

Si Edgar Bacong ay awtor ng Habagat at Niyebe, isang kalipunan ng mga tulang Filipino at Cebuano na nilathala ng Tuluyang Pinoy Zurich at Mindanews noong 2005. Ilan sa kanyang mga akda ay mababasa sa mga antolohiyang Ani ng Cultural Center of the Philippines, Obverse 2 ng Pinoypoets at The Best of Dagmay 2007 to 2009. Si G. Bacong ay tubong Dabaw at nakapagtapos ng Bachelor of Arts in Sociology sa Ateneo de Davao University. Dahil sa pag-ibig ay nilisan niya ang bayang kinalakhan at kasalukuyang naninirahan sa Zurich, Switzerland.

Badya

Poetry by | December 23, 2018

Sa halip na ulan, dugo ang ipinandilig
Sa nagbabagang daan at mga palayan
Pagbungad ng Abril sa Kidapawan.

Sa halip na bigas, bala ang itinugon
Ng mapanupil na mga sundalo’t goon
Sa mga magsasakang nagugutom.

Sa halip na kapayapaan, dahas ang itinanim
Ng mga awtoridad sa mga puso’t damdamin
Ng mga mamamayang kahirapa’y idinaing.

Sa halip na buhay, kamatayan ang iginawad
Ng gobyernong ang pagsisilbi ay huwad
Sa mga tagahatid ng pagkain sa ating hapag.

Nang bumungad ang nakapapasong Abril
At patuloy na nabibitak ang mga bukirin
Nagbabadya ito ng masamang pangitain—

LAKAS AT SANDATA’Y LIKUMIN!

Si Edgar Bacong ay awtor ng Habagat at Niyebe, isang kalipunan ng mga tulang Filipino at Cebuano na nilathala ng Tuluyang Pinoy Zurich at Mindanews noong 2005. Ilan sa kanyang mga akda ay mababasa sa mga antolohiyang Ani ng Cultural Center of the Philippines, Obverse 2 ng Pinoypoets at The Best of Dagmay 2007 to 2009. Si G. Bacong ay tubong Dabaw at nakapagtapos ng Bachelor of Arts in Sociology sa Ateneo de Davao University. Dahil sa pag-ibig ay nilisan niya ang bayang kinalakhan at kasalukuyang naninirahan sa Zurich, Switzerland.

Cuba: Sa Mata Ng Isang Turista

Poetry by | December 23, 2018

Ipinagbunyi ko ang tagumpay ng rebolusyon
na natamo ni Che sa lalawigan ng Sta. Clara
at nadatna’y masiglang sayawan sa Mejunje.

Inamoy ko ang samyo ng rebolusyon
sa sakahan ng mga guajiro sa Vinales
at nalanghap ay maaskad na tabako.

Hiniging ko ang awit ng rebolusyon
sa mga kalye’t parke ng Cienfuegos
at nakisaliw ang babaeng namalimos.

Kinalugdan ko ang rilag ng rebolusyon
sa kolonyal na bayan ng Trinidad
at humarang ang kabulaanan sa daan.

Hinangaan ko ang diwa ng rebolusyon
na kasinlinis ng dagat ng Varadero
at hinimlaya’y inaanay na edipisyo.

Dinalaw ko ang pangako ng rebolusyon
sa malawak na Plaza de la Revolucion
at binusalan bawat kataga ng pagpuna.

At nang lasapin ko ang bunga ng rebolusyon
sa mga hapag ng paladar ng Habana Vieja
binusog ako ng ‘sang pinggang katotohanan.

Marso 3, 2015
Zurich, Switzerland

Si Edgar Bacong ay awtor ng Habagat at Niyebe, isang kalipunan ng mga tulang Filipino at Cebuano na nilathala ng Tuluyang Pinoy Zurich at Mindanews noong 2005. Ilan sa kanyang mga akda ay mababasa sa mga antolohiyang Ani ng Cultural Center of the Philippines, Obverse 2 ng Pinoypoets at The Best of Dagmay 2007 to 2009. Si G. Bacong ay tubong Dabaw at nakapagtapos ng Bachelor of Arts in Sociology sa Ateneo de Davao University. Dahil sa pag-ibig ay nilisan niya ang bayang kinalakhan at kasalukuyang naninirahan sa Zurich, Switzerland.

Pasubali Sa Isang Kaibigan

Poetry by | December 23, 2018

Minsan na tayong namuhay
sa isang lipunang takot at dahas
ang pinairal ng mga namumuno.
Sa nayon at syudad sumambulat
ang libu-libong puso’t bungong
tanging hangad ay magpanday
nang maaliwalas na pangarap
para sa liping biyaya ay salat.
Ngunit gaya nilang naninindigan
at kumakalinga sa kapwa
di tayo natinag sa lakas at sandata
ng mga berdugong walang kaluluwa.
Tuwi-tuwi na, pinanghihinaan tayo ng loob
subali’t kailanma’y di natin isinuko
ang tangan-tangang idealismo
at higit sa lahat wala tayong
ipinagkanulong mga tao.
Nabuhay tayo sa taimtim na pananalig
at pagpapalaganap ng ating pinakabuod—
Hindi, hindi nauutas ng bala
ang masalimuot nating problema.

Si Edgar Bacong ay awtor ng Habagat at Niyebe, isang kalipunan ng mga tulang Filipino at Cebuano na nilathala ng Tuluyang Pinoy Zurich at Mindanews noong 2005. Ilan sa kanyang mga akda ay mababasa sa mga antolohiyang Ani ng Cultural Center of the Philippines, Obverse 2 ng Pinoypoets at The Best of Dagmay 2007 to 2009. Si G. Bacong ay tubong Dabaw at nakapagtapos ng Bachelor of Arts in Sociology sa Ateneo de Davao University. Dahil sa pag-ibig ay nilisan niya ang bayang kinalakhan at kasalukuyang naninirahan sa Zurich, Switzerland.

The Multicolored Son

Fiction by | December 23, 2018

I remember the day I almost lost Jun-jun. I was in eight grade and longed for Tatay’s attention. At four in the morning, I got up before Jun-jun could sound the morning wake up call. I barely slept the night before, thinking of ways to get rid of him or at least get Tatay’s attention away from him. Jun-jun could not cook rice or boil the coffee, but it was me who always got called useless around the house.

On the second Sunday that June, I planned to give Tatay a new wallet I’d bought at Novo. I’d spent all the money I saved up that summer from selling a bunch of buko to Angkol Nono, a buko juice vendor in front of Central Plaza, for ten pesos each. Since I went to Isulan National High School, Tatay always got mad at me for waking up late. He blamed my addiction to mobile games that kept me up at night and threatened to confiscate my phone. He didn’t like it that he had to boil the water for the native coffee and cook rice every morning.

Roosters started crowing from a distance. I opened our front door, lifting the three locks carefully not to make a sound. I checked outside. The dawn was already breaking and I smelled the cool and damp breeze. My nose itched and the next thing I knew, I was sneezing like crazy. I couldn’t make out where Jun-jun was until I saw his long, red curvy tail atop the lower branch of our Mango tree. He flapped his multicolored wings, shook his tiny head, and crowed his mighty battle cry that echoed through our house. Other roosters from our neighbor followed suit.

I looked for the kettle as I wiped my nose using the front of my shirt. I filled the kettle with tap water and brought it to the stove to boil and put four spoonful of native coffee from Kulaman. I put the jars of coco sugar and cream on our dining table for Nanay and Tatay. My head started to ache from the allergic rhinitis so I needed coffee myself.

I got the pako that Nanay brought from the market last night out from the refrigerator while I waited for the coffee to boil. I was about to prepare the scrambled egg with ampalaya when I heard the door from my parents’ bedroom open. Tatay still looked groggy and his bushy eyebrows were already meeting at the middle. He woke up on the wrong side of the bed, I suppose.

“Abaw. The señorito Toto is up early, ha,” he said in his hoarse voice. He went straight to the kitchen sink and drank water from the faucet using his hand. After that, he scrunched his nose. “Is that coffee?”

Continue reading The Multicolored Son

Kon Dunay Pako ang Kamingaw

Poetry by | December 16, 2018

–Alang kang Harlene

Kon duna lang pako ang kamingaw
Paluparon ko kini nganha kanimo
Ipahunghong sa imung mga dunggan
Ang kamingaw nga gibati ning dughan ko

Kon duna lang pako ang kasakit
Hangyuon ko kini pagbiya sa akong kasingkasing
              bisan sa makadiyot
Tungod kay nasayod ko nga diri na kini mopuyo
Sa samad nga gibilin sa imung pagpanaw

Kon duna lang pako ang kalipay
Tultulan ko kini paingon sa imung kiliran
Tungod way sama kaanyag ang mga balud sa baybayon
Sa dihang anhi ka pa sa akong tuparan

Ug kon duna’y mga pako ang gugma
Suguon ko kini pagkab-ot sa mga bituon
Arun ipurong-purong sa maanyag
              mong pahiyom ug katawa
Akong balos sa pagtudlo mo kanako
              sa kahulugan sa tim-os nga pagpangga

Apan kining tanan walay mga pako
Busa luomon ko na lang kini sa akong dughan
Ug diha’y akong ukbon sa panahon nga kanimo mingawon

Apan ikaw, ikaw, duna ka na may mga pako
Palihug pagduaw kanako
bisan na lamang sa akong mga damgo
Arun masayran mo…
Ang kamingaw, kasakit, kalipay
ug gugmang gibati ning dughan ko

Kenneth John L. Flores is a senior high school teacher of Manuel S. Nasser Sr. NHS in San Isidro, Davao Oriental.

Nine Days To Understand Nine Days in Nine Days

Fiction by | December 16, 2018

Day 8
I think I now need to keep track of time. Time has been odd, has been queer, has been time has been odd, has been. There’s a loop that loops that there is a loop that goes on in my head ever since I started to attempt to understand time has been odd, has been queer, has been a loop since I tried to understand the sounds that came from this, well, I don’t even know what this is. I remember nothing from before it, but I remember now before it but I remember. I remember it came to me in a dream, a dream that came to me the night I saw it in a dream. Well, not really saw, more like felt. At least I think I felt it. That’s the thing with dreams, isn’t it? You’re never really completely sure how to word them out when you wake up. Then again, it’s not like there were any words, it was more like I felt it all around me, I think I felt it. It’s odd, it’s queer, it has been like that in a loop ever since it came to me in a dream. It spoke to me, it spoke to me in a feeling that I felt all around me, inside me, outside me, it spoke to me in a feeling. It whispered words into my ears and into my mind, in a feeling I tried to understand time has been odd, has been queer, has been a loop and it told me things I cannot comprehend. Ah well, that was 8 days ago ever since it was 7 days ago since it was 10 years ago since it came to me in a dream. I’m tired now, I think I’ll rest. I do not know why, but sleeping on this flesh is better than sleeping on the cold rock floor of this cave where I’ll rest I’m tired now.

Continue reading Nine Days To Understand Nine Days in Nine Days

Orange

Fiction by | December 9, 2018

The pale orange color that lit the streets of Verga Subdivision in Bunawan switched on right before the sun started to set. The doors and windows had to be shut to keep the mosquitoes out. For most kids in the neighborhood, it was time to go home. For most parents, it was time to make dinner while they listened to local news on the television. The houses I passed by had their porches lit, the owners turning their lights on for relatives on their way home. Even the shabby houses of settlers in the area were loud and bright.

Our house was not far from the highway, but I had to walk two blocks the other way around before finally going home. During the day, our house didn’t stand out. But at night, it would be lit from inside with candles. Our house—which had two storeys, a garage that could park two cars, and a closed mini shop on the front—used to be as loud and bright as other houses in the neighborhood.

I used my phone, which I’d charged to full capacity in class earlier that day, to light my way to the front door. Our doorbell was so loud it could draw the neighbors’ attention. So, I knocked until I heard footsteps that tried to be discreet in an empty house so quiet. The curtain behind the window next to the front door moved a little, a pointless move since the porch was so dark.

“It’s me, Nay,” I told my mother. The door opened and the smell of lit candles wafted to my nose.

“Nganong nagab-ihan naman sab ka?”
Continue reading Orange