Inigbanos sa Ulan

Fiction by | August 9, 2015

Tagsa–tagsang mipadailos gikan sa tingkoy ug agtang ni Bobet ang mga singut paghimungtod nila sa balay sa iyang Ninang Diding. Kapin usa ka kilometro man god silang nagbaklay taliwala sa naglagiting nga Adlaw. Daw walay pulos ang gisul-ot nilang mga dyaket ug sarok sa kaigang sa palibot. Si Alfonso, ang kamaguwangang anak ni Diding, maoy ilang naabtan. Wala didto ang magtiayon kay namalit nig pagkaon sa ilang mga mangangani.

“Te, gitugon diay ko ni Nanay nga magsugod na lang daw mog pangani bisag wala pa sila. Moabot man pod daw karong taud-taod silang Noy Silyo, “ni Alfonso kanila.

“Asa man mi dapit magsugod, Do?” pangutana ni Norma nga nagyaka sa tugkaran samtang namaypay sa sarok. Gitudlo sa ulitawo ang usa ka taas nga pilapil diin nanuyhakaw ang mga bulagaw na mga humay nga naglubay-lubay mataghandos sa hangin.

“Didto Te, kanang kinatumyan nga pilapil simpig nianang layog hangtod dinhas punoan sa santol.”

Kalit misagbat si Bobet nga naglingkod sa nagbuy-od nga dakong pinutol nga kahoy. Tupad niya ang igsoong si Sabel. “Ehem… Al, wa ba dihay pabugnaw? Init man god kaayo sa dalan, maayo man god nang magtrabaho ta nga presko ang atong hasang.”

“Bitaw, no? Hulat sa ‘mo, Te, ha, kay mag-abli tag coke, morag naa pa may nahibiling usa ka botelya sa ref,”sa batan-on dayong sulod sa balay.

Nakapanglingo si Norma sa gibuhat ni Bobet. Gisigaan niya nis mata. “Pastilan gyod kang bataa ka, kawalay uwaw!”

Giduol ni Bobet ang iyang inahan dayong pislit-pislit sa bukobuko niini. “Ikaw gyod, Nay…Relaks lang god dinha, akoy bahala.”

Mikunot ang agtang ni Norma. “Saba dinha! Nagbaga ra nang nawong nimo, ay!”

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Pagtanggal ng Mantsa

Fiction by | July 26, 2015

Isang gabi, binabad ko ang ukay-ukay kong mga t-shirts. Iniba-iba ko ang mga puti at de-kolor. Nilagyan ko ng kloroks ang may mantsang t-shirt na puti.

Napatingin ako sa tv. Inaantabayanan ko kasi ang paborito kong programa tuwing linggo ng gabi. Pero advertisements pa pala: lotion na pampaputi, for straight hair shampoo, at kung anu-ano pa. Meron ding piling mga eksena ng isang melodrama na kinaiinisan ko pero sinusubaybayan ng halos lahat sa bahay.
Umupo ako saglit sa harap ng tv. Di pa rin tapos ang mga advertisements. Sa inis at inip ko, binalikan ko ang mga binabad. Kinusot-kusot ko nang bahagya. Napatingin uli ako sa tv. Nagkataong may advertisement ng isang tanyag na politiko tungkol sa kanyang gagawing proyekto. Advertisement pa ba to? tanong ko sa sarili. “Kay aga-aga pa ng political advertisement na to!” bulalas naman ng kapatid ko.
Habang patingin-tingin ako sa nasabing political advertisement, kinusot ko ang t-shirt na puti. Nilagyan ko uli ng kloroks ang mantsa. Hinipan-hipan. At kusot uli. Super kusot. Nang sinipat ko ang t-shirt, natanggal konti ang mantsa.

At binabad ko uli ang t-shirt na puti.

Amihan is a freelance creative fiction and non-fiction writer who was born and raised in General Santos City.

Alkansya

Fiction by | July 26, 2015

Ang akong lola niuli guikan sa Sugbu dala uban niya ang imahe sa Sto. Niño ug gamay nga tigumanan sa sinsilyo may inukit nga imahe ni Buda. Matag adlaw ginsudlan niya ug sinsilyo ang gamay nga Buda ug nagaugbok ug kandila sa Niño tapos niya mangaliya. Ug kada adlaw siya nagalingkod sa may bintana, sa iyang tuyatuya nga lingkoranan, nag-ihap sa mga sakyanan nanglabay sa abogon nga dalan sa among barangay.
Usa ka bulan nilabay, ang akong lola nagahimo niini sa walay paglat-ang ug adlawpagsulod piso sa gamayng Buda, paghalad kandila ug pag-ampo, unya paglingkod sa may bintana aron pag-ihap sa nanglabayng mga sakyanan.

Ug usa niana ka adlaw nga nabatian ko siya nga nag-ampo ug akong naamgohan: ang akong lola nag-ihap sa mga adlaw nga ang akong amahan makauli sa among pinuy-anan guikan sa trabaho sa pagmina.


Si Teresa May A. Mundiz usa ka magtutudlo sa usa ka unibersidad diri sa Davao. Nagasulat sya kung itugot sa panahon, ug padayon sya sa iyang paglawig sa iyang mga damgu.

Esme and the Tiny White Mouse

Fiction by | June 28, 2015

Artwork by Gerlie Quinn Gulles
Artwork by Gerlie Quinn Gulles
Esme hurriedly ran down the stairs towards the kitchen when she heard the good news. She was inside her bedroom doing her homework. Her mother knocked on the door and told her that her brother Ipe was finally coming home for a short vacation.

“I need you to help me around the house to prepare for his visit.”

“Of course! I’d love to help! When is he coming home, Mama?”

“He’ll be here after a couple of sleeps.”

Esme could not hide her excitement. She wondered if her Kuya still looked the same after two years of studying in Canada. She was only in first grade the last time she saw him. And she missed him terribly.

Esme had only a faint memory of their father. He died soon after her fourth birthday. Whenever she felt sad about not having their father around, she would think of Kuya Ipe. He was the one who defended her from her classmates when they teased her for not having a father. And he used to read her favorite books to her before she went to sleep. Her Kuya also helped their mother around the house. Her brother was enough, she thought to herself. He was like the father she never had.

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Stick in the Fridge

Fiction by | June 21, 2015

stickinfridge
Artwork by Nina Maria Alvarez

Pat loves her Papa so much, she follows him everywhere.

When her father goes to the living room to watch the evening news, she sits in his lap and leans on his chest. She loves it when her Papa carries her to bed when she falls asleep. She is not afraid of monsters under her bed because she knows her Papa is still awake and is just one cry away.

Whenever she becomes thirsty in the middle of the night or wants to pee, she carefully walks her way to the bathroom near their front door. Nerves set in when she reaches the stairs but she becomes calm when she smells the familiar smoke. It’s her father smoking in front of their house. Pat thinks that her father has been guarding them from monsters and thieves.

One night, she opens the door and runs to her Papa. He quickly sways his hand with a cigarette away from his daughter and asks, “Why are you still awake?”

“I’m thirsty,” she replied.

“Get some water and then go straight to your room, okay?”

“Do you mind if I stay here with you for a while?” Pat asks him.

“I’m sorry Pat, but get back to sleep now or you’ll stop growing,” he puts his cigarette stick on a flower pot and opens the door for Pat.

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Meg and the Turtle

Fiction by | June 14, 2015

meg_and_the_turtle
Artwork by Maria Louisa Pasilan

Meg always spent two weeks of her summer vacation with her Auntie Del, who lived with her husband Uncle Ben in an animal farm in Bansalan. Meg adored her aunt and uncle. They did not have any children of their own and they were always sending Meg dolls and books.

In the farm, Meg could run around without the danger of getting run over by big vehicles and she could milk the cows and the goats with Uncle Ben when she woke up early. Their farm was spacious: there was a shed for the cows, a pen for the pigs and goats, and a coop for the chickens. They even had a couple of horses that Uncle Ben and his help would ride. And so, she always looked forward to her stay in the farm.

After Meg settled into the room she had claimed as hers, Auntie Del led her to the back of the house. When she asked why, Auntie Del’s response was only, “I have something to show you.”

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Louis Vuitton

Fiction by | May 24, 2015

My mother’s boss, Louie Vergara, called home looking for my mother. It was nine in the evening and my younger sister had just fallen asleep. My father who works night shift in one of the posh hotels in our city had left earlier in the evening.

So it was only me and Mother who were still up and awake in the house. I was zipping the back of her gown when the phone rang. Father usually calls home to check on us. But it would be much later.

Lately, Mother has been attending business meetings with her boss, she told me one time when I was putting away her make up kit, that I would often think she must be a very good employee.

Mother shooed me to pick up the phone.

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Pinikas, Ikaduhang Bahin

Fiction by | May 10, 2015

Usa ka hapon, pag-agi nako didtos tindahan ni Ante Nita, maoy tapik sa mga istambay ang umaabot nga piniliay.

“Unsaon na lang kaha ning atong eleksiyon, Pre, no? Morag haskang gubota.”

“Gubot pas imong bungot, Pre.”

“Ayawg tripingi nang akong bigote, Pre. Assit biya na. Haha!”

“Tuod, Pre, tiamona? Apil si Kulas modagan pagka kagawad? Pastilan! Puyde diay na?”

“Aw, apil man gani si Nong Karyo nga gabadhay-badhay nas katiguwang, modagan! Haha! Kon modaog siya, syur gyod ko nga dili niya mahuman iyang termino. Ma-terminit na siyag sayo!” dalag aksiyon og putol sa iyang liog.

“Haha! Ug, in pernis, Pre, si Minda nga mamingkahay, modagan pod kuno!”

“Lagi. Mao poy akong nadunggan.”

“Taymsa, si Botyok man diay ni.”

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