No. 7

Fiction by | February 1, 2015

Eating kwek-kwek and blending in with the crowd to be as inconspicuous as possible, Marco had been waiting for almost an hour. His target, this time, was Isagani Sarmiento—a paralegal at a small law office in San Pedro. It was almost 5 o’clock but the sweltering heat did not give way to the usual pre-dusk chill. He gave small talks to the tindera but he always made sure not to make himself too memorable. He had on a faux leather jacket with a plain shirt underneath, a Yankees cap, and his usual ragged jeans.

He first met with his client at some low-key bar at Torres.

It was a perfect place for such meet-ups—it was full of unscrupulous businessmen and sleazy police officers, but there was never any crowd large enough to fill even one-third of the room. The music was kept to a perfect volume and only ranged from classic to jazz.

Continue reading No. 7

For a good reason

Poetry by | February 1, 2015

Do not make me keep my promises
Easily because
Mornings bring age
You will kiss my tired eyelids
With thinned lips
Sounds pass them
Cracked but still soothing
To my hardly-hearing ears
Reassuring, lovingly cooing
Bringing to mind
The Mayas that we were
Flitting from branch to branch
As if there was no tomorrow
Tomorrow just came to visit
Tutting
Waiting for his overdue call
I found myself wearing my skin
Like my Sunday dresses you used to
Throw on the floor
Now kept neatly folded
Inside the ancient doors
That smell of mothballs and decay
Your hands were Bangkas
Sailing over my smooth seas
Now they are traversing
through rough waves and storms
I fear it may sink
The wires on my head that used
To be the night
Are now ashes
From a well-stroked fire
Which you try to resuscitate
To no avail
Do not make me keep my promises
I used to swear ‘i will never leave you’
But then
One night
I grasped you hand tightly
Then, like my breath, let it slip away

—
Adeva is from Cagayan de Oro City, currently an English teacher in Xavier University High School.

May-December

Poetry by | February 1, 2015

The only wrinkles that you have
are those lines along the
corners of your eyes
when you smile
unlike her
Your countenance strengthens me
the might of
a thousand Spartans cannot match me
You hands
are smooth, unblemished by the
wash cloths and the dish soaps
the detergent you’ll be
handling soon enough
And yet beside you, I am
ancient
It is apt she calls this
May-December
You are summer
and I am at the tail end
of seasons
Soon, I hope
you, like a phoenix,
will rise
and I will remain
with her

—
Mai Santillan is, by day, a freelance writer from CDO. By night, she’s a couch potato. During her off days, you’ll see her wandering around Divisoria to capture mundane yet candid humdrum activities in the city. You won’t miss her. She has this ridiculously huge curly hair often mistaken as a wig. But it’s not. Really.

Laundry

Poetry by | February 1, 2015

I wash your pants
to remove the dirt
of your last night’s infidelity.
Scrub it with patience
and force—
her caress abandoning the fabric.
Rinse it until it’s clean—
the sins dissolving in the water.
Dry it up—
the remains of her perfume evaporating.
Iron it,
to smooth the creases of the cloth,
hoping that tomorrow
I will not wash it
the way I always do:
cleaning someone else’s dirt.

—
Reil is a second year BSED-MATH student from Ateneo de Davao University. His best friends are Literature and Mathematics.

Padugo

Fiction by | January 25, 2015

“Legends say that blood allures gold and for a gold mine to be full of gold, it needs blood. But a goat’s blood is not enough.” Said the 58 year-old Mang Berto as he shared his story to his fellow small-scale miners during siesta as they rest in the Nipa hut near the Matiao River. “It needs a blood that is something pure and innocent.” Mang Berto said coldly to everyone in the Nipa Hut.

Mang Berto and his family now lives in Matiao province where mining has been the primary business and a source of profit for most people. In his early 30’s, he worked in a large-scale mining company called King Midas Mining Corp in the Gumayan province. The boss of the company, which the employees called Supremo, believed in a legend that a sacrificial ritual that involves offering of blood every last day of the month inside a mine would allure the elusive gold nuggets. During his stay in Gumayan, Mang Berto worked as a hired kidnapper and the one who executes the ritual along with other hired kidnappers. His job was instant money as the job gave him enough money to buy a small house. However, until one incident changed the course of his life.

Continue reading Padugo

Bukid ug dagat (oo, ako ug ikaw) 

Poetry by | January 25, 2015

Unsaon kaha pag-abot aning duha?
Sa pag hinuktok usahay maka hinuklog ka,
kinabuhi ko ug ang imo mag abot ba?
Ayaw ka balaka,
ug ayaw huna-hunaa nga ang dagat
magpanguhit lang sa tiilan sa buntod.
O ba kaha, ang bukid mudungaw lang
sa ka katahum sa lalum.
Dili.
Anaa pa’y lahing pamaagi,
sa pagtan-aw ug pagtuki
sa lain-laing matang sa butang.
Ug kay gani, sa mata sa langit,
ang bukid ug dagat nagtapad,
nagtinandayay.
Ug diha sa pag aninaw sa mga panganod,
ang atong kalipay makab-ot,
ug ang kining pag tandi ma hingpit.

—
Keith was born in Cebu City, was a psychology major at the University of the Philippines in Cebu and currently teaches the Social Sciences at USeP Obrero.

Call for applications to the 15th IYAS National Writers’ Workshop

Events by | January 21, 2015

The University of St. La Salle-Bacolod (USLS) is inviting young writers to submit their application for the 15th IYAS National Writers’ Workshop which will be held on April 26 – May 2, 2015 at Balay Kalinungan, USLS-Bacolod.

Applicants should submit original work: either 6 poems, 2 short stories, or 2 one-act plays using a pseudonym, in two (2) computer-encoded hard copy of entry, font size 12, double-spaced, and soft copies in a CD (MSWord). Short stories must be numbered, by paragraph.

These are to be accompanied by a sealed size 10 business envelope, inside of which should be the author’s real name and chosen pseudonym, a 2×2 ID photo, and short resume. Everything must be mailed on or before February 16, 2015.

Entries in English, Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Tagalog or Filipino may be submitted. Fellowships are awarded by genre and by language.

Fifteen applicants will be chosen for the workshop fellowships, which will include partial transportation subsidy and free board and lodging.

This year’s panelists include Grace Monte de Ramos-Arcellana, Glenn Mas, D.M. Reyes, Dinah Roma-Sianturi, John Iremil Teodoro and Marjorie Evasco as Workshop Director.

Please submit your application to: Ms. Rowena Japitana, IYAS Secretariat, Special Projects Office, University of St. La Salle, La Salle Avenue, Bacolod City. For inquiries, please email iyasliterary@yahoo.com.

IYAS is held in collaboration with the Bienvenido N. Santos Creative Writing Center of De La Salle University-Manila and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts.

Abu Bakr Talks to His Boss's Imported Car from Germany

Poetry by | January 18, 2015

Hello to yu der da new Germany car of my boss, my pileng is so bery comportable inside wen I draybing.
My boss Ahmad maybe lab yu because he rily buy you in bery big money from da bery cold Germany.
So dats why I take care of yu because I lab you too also layk my boss, because yu relax me bery much.
I think da taym when we go to da city of Cotabato to visit da first lab of my boss Ahmad, Madam Sawda,
What a so bery relaxing pileng while I draybing yu. In da taym of six hours of travel, I jas pil okey.
But when we arrive to da place, I see dat Madam Sawda is bery hot in da fever.
We sleep in der house in da city of Cotabato only one week and den go agen to his oder lab,
And when we action to go away por da next wife, madam is still coughing so bery hard.
And my boss Ahmad say he will sleep one day agen wid her to take care to her.
But Madam Sawda don’t say yes to boss Ahmad, she rily No No. She say dat my boss Ahmad must go.
She say dat my boss Ahmad hab responsibility to da oder wife. So my boss jas follow what madam say.
So we go away in da city of Cotabato after one week. I think in dat taym dat Madam Sawda will jealous.
Because maybe she will jealous to da oder lab of boss Ahmad now she is hot in da fever.
But you know Germany car, Madam Sawda is so bery understanding woman.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to her.

So I hab anoder agen a travel with my boss Ahmad today, but I think sad a little bit about it.
Today in da brayt day, we will going to da Tawi-tawi so dat my boss will be in his third lab, Hafsa.
I question in myself about Hafsa, da wife of my dead frend Khunais: why she marry my boss Ahmad?
I’m problemizing to my dead frend Khunais because if he is not dead, what he will say about this?
He don’t want dis to happen! Dat his first lab is now the sweetheart honeybunch of my boss Ahmad ?
Who is a so bery faithful to Islam ? complete all da salah and do da fasting in da Ramadhan;
Who is a so bery rich man ? give zakah always in da week and give his families bery bery big houses;
Who is a bery smart person ? da teacher of da big madrasah and writer also in da books.
Oh! But you know Germany car, Khunais is so bery understanding man.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to him.

But maybe opkors not my oder dead frend Ubaydah, when he will know dat Zaynab marry also to boss.
My dead frend is not hab many money; he only hab small nipa house in da Indangan.
Oh I’m is so rily sad about dat man. I praying before dat I can help in da financial to him, but no.
And now, I can’t think inside my mind Zaynab and der children and der lives when he is nothing already.
Dey will not hab food every day, no clothes por da little kids, even der small nipa hut
Wid jas many empty sacks of rice por the roof is a little bit surrendering last time I go der.
My boss Ahmad is so bery good person; he take out Zaynab and da kids from der small nipa-hut.
My boss Ahmad is so bery good person; he give new house and many foods, and clothes por dem.
Yes, my boss is so bery good man; he marry to Zaynab and he adopting her children.
Oh! But you know Germany car, Ubaydah is so bery understanding man.
Maybe ebrything’s jas okey to him.

I never never ever want to say about Aisha because I don’t want to cry, no anymore.
Da bery first time I will know dat she will marry to my boss Ahmad, it break my heart like a glass.
But I don’t angry to my boss Ahmad por sure and also not to Aisha;
Because it is da ama of Aisha dat say to her dat she marry to my boss Ahmad than me.
I am nothing, Germany car. I am nothing but just a driver and servant; I don’t hab many money
Dats why I am only da man who don?t marry to da rich lady like Aisha.
I am so bery hurting when my boss Ahmad say to me inside da SUV about his wedding to Aisha.
He don’t know we are bery sweet boyfriend and girlfriend to each oder when we are still young kids.
I am so bery bery hurt dat time. I am angry. So bery angry dat I think something bad.
I think to drayb porward and hit da SUV of boss Ahmad straight to da Davao Light post in da highways.
Or if not, I think dat time to resign as driver, and end da six years of service to my boss Ahmad.
But I think agen. If I do dat all, what it will happen? I think maybe I jas hab to be happy to dem.
Yesterday, I see her. She say to me salaam, and I say salaam to her too and we smile in each oder.
You know Germany car, I think I’m an understanding man. Ebrything’s jas okey to me.
I so rily lab my boss Ahmad, because he is so bery good to his many families.
Although he hab many labidabs, he hab a sweet heart to me and others, dats why I like him.
If I will be rich someday, if da God is bery bery kind to me, I want to be like my boss Ahmad.
Not jas because he hab many wives, but because I want to help other people.

—
Nassefh is a Bangsamoro Kaagan native from Panabo City. He is a Creative Writing student in UP Mindanao. He is yet to consider having four wives in the future.