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

Call for Submissions: 2019 Salirok Prize

Editor's Note | November 28, 2018

Kidapawan City is now accepting entries to the Second Salirok Prize.

The Salirok Prize is a short story writing competition funded by the local government of Kidapawan. it is the country’s first LGU-funded literary prize, and the first prize to accept entries in multiple languages.

This year’s Salirok Prize is expanded to cover the Greater Kidapawan Area.

The Prize is open to any applicant born in, or who has lived for at least five years in, or whose family is from the Greater Kidapawan Area: Kidapawan, as well as M’lang, Makilala, Matalam, Magpet, President Roxas, Arakan, Tulunan, and Antipas.

The Prize’s theme will be open, although judges will consider the timeliness of an entry’s subject matter. All entries must be about and/or set in these towns.

Short stories may be in any language (with this year specifically welcoming works in Hiligyanon, Obo Monuvu, and Tagabawa), but works written in languages other than English, Tagalog, and Cebuano must be accompanied by translations in English or Tagalog.

Submissions must be at least three thousand words long, but must also not be excessively lengthy. They must be encoded in .doc or .docx file in Times New Roman, with font size 12 and 1.5 spacing.
Submissions are to be made with an attached curriculum vitae containing the author’s recent photo. The author’s name must not appear on the file of the story.

All submissions must be made in soft copy, and must be submitted to the prize’s official email, thesalirokprize@gmail.com. Inquiries about the Prize may also be sent to the email address, or through the prize’s FB page, Facebook.com/salirokprize.

Deadline for submissions is 12 January, 2019. The first, second, and third prizes will be announced on 12 February, 2019, Kidapawan’s 21st Anniversary as a city.

Winners will receive a cash prize and trophy from the mayor of Kidapawan (or other Kidapawan officials) in an awards ceremony as part of Kidapawan’s February festivities. The winning works will also be printed and launched on the awarding.

A salirok is a simple drinking fountain devised by the upland tribes of Mt Apo. Natural spring water, which flows abundantly on and around Mt. Apo, is made easier to drink by embedding a piece of bamboo into springs.

Like the mountain, brimming abundantly with water, under which Kidapawan sprawls, Kidapawan city too is a basin of narratives, rich with the raw stories of its diverse peoples. The capital of North Cotabato and mother town of half the province’s municipalities has been and continues to be the setting of many struggles, the cradle of many dreams. From conflict between races and faiths to tensions between generations and classes, the Greater Kidapawan Area has many stories to tell. The Salirok Prize is aimed at making the people at the foot of Mt Apo finally harness and process this abundance of material.

Fictionist, critic, and amateur historian Karlo Antonio Galay David (winner of the Palanca and the Nick Joaquin Literary Awards) returns as Prize Director. He will be joined in the panel of judges this year by award winning poet and journalist Rita B. Gadi and pioneering Obo Monuvu writer, translator, and musician Datu Melchor Umpan Bayawan.

Write Here: The Visibility of The Writer from the Region

Nonfiction by | November 25, 2018

In one literary event in my hometown, Iloilo City, I jokingly told my audience, “ako gali si Karla, ang taga diri nga indi man taga diri” or “Ako pala si Karla taga-rito pero hindi naman taga-rito.” This is my writing place. When I am in Iloilo, the emcee introduces me as a writer from Cebu. In Cebu, I am always the writer from Iloilo.

I first came to Davao in 2011 for the Taboan Writers Festival as a delegate representing Cebu although my works are not entirely in Cebuano and I am not a Cebuana. I do admire Cebu, in fact, I now consider it my home; however, my roots will always remain in Iloilo. It is my diri, dito, dinhi, here. Being a Filipino writer is a quest to situate the self in a multifarious linguistic and literary space.

Two years ago, Cebuano National Artist (but actually born in Dipolog, Zamboanga) Resil Mojares delivered in UP Visayas in Iloilo City a keynote speech that asks the provocative question, “Where in the World is The Filipino Writer?” Mojares urges the reader to view his paper as “notes or his desultory thoughts” on the place of the Filipino writer in the world.

He opens the discussion by quoting Pascale Casanova’s book The World Republic of Letters that traces the historical formation of what she calls “world literary space,” a space that has its own capitals, provinces, borders, forms of communication, and its systems of rewards and recognition. This space is dominated by “big” languages and “big” literatures, while “small” literature in “small” languages are “either annexed to dominant literary spaces or are invisible outside their national borders.” The word Eurocentric was expectedly mentioned, and he highlighted that Southeast Asia and the Philippines do not appear in any pages of this remarkable book. He explained that he is not complaining, well aware that our literature may be among the marginal and invisible, and Casanova’s lens made it even more marginal and more invisible.

Continue reading Write Here: The Visibility of The Writer from the Region

Little Dreamweaver

Fiction by | November 18, 2018

“When can I weave?” Maimai asked.

She was impatient. Her mother had taught her and her elder sister but she was not permitted to touch the loom on her own. Malina, her older sister, had been weaving for two years now. Maimai was beginning to feel like her mother had changed her mind about her.

Dreamweaving was in their family’s blood. Here, in this little village beside Lake Sebu, the women in her family have been dreamweavers for centuries. Her mother, grandmother, aunts, and now her sister are dreamweavers. It is an ancient art passed down from mother to daughters. But one cannot be a weaver without the god’s blessing. No, dreamweaving was an art different from the other weavers of the province.

“There will be a sign, a dream,” her mother often said but Maimai couldn’t understand what it meant.

The dreamweavers would receive a dream from Fu Dalu, the god of the abaca. He would send a dream that would guide the patterns of the weaver. It was an honor to be visited by the god. One cannot start touching the loom without one. Only when a dream was given can a weaver start her pattern. That was the reason her sister had not begun her latest weave. Her abaca had been stretched on the loom but she could not start yet.

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Fellows to the 2018 Davao Writers Workshop Announced

Editor's Note | October 13, 2018

The Davao Writers Guild is pleased to announce that fifteen (15) writers from various parts of Mindanao are this year’s fellows to the 2018 Davao Writers Workshop, to be held this November 14-18, 2018, at Casa Leticia Boutique Hotel, J. Camus St., Davao City.

Workshop Director Gracielle Deanne Tubera and Deputy Director Mubarak Tahir released the official announcement on the acceptance of the following:

For Fiction
Ranny Ray Codas (Mindanao State University-Main Campus)
Hannah Lecena (Mindanao State University–General Santos City)
Marly Mae Meñales (Mindanao State University-Naawan)
Elizabeth Joy Quijano (University of Mindanao)

For Poetry
Ryan Cezar Alcarde (University of the Philippines Diliman)
John Carlo Beronio (Golden Heritage Polytechnic College)
Gerald Galindez (University of Southern Mindanao)
Raffy John Phillip Lucente (Holy Cross of Davao College)
Michael John Otanes (Mindanao State University–General Santos City)
Adrian Pete Pregonir (Banga National High School)

For Creative Nonfiction
Allyson Mae Espaldon (University of the Philippines Mindanao)
Kurt Comendador (Mindanao State University-General Santos City)
An-Nurhaiyden Mangelen (University of the Philippines Mindanao)
Adrian Dwight Sefuentes (University of the Philippines Mindanao)
Neil Teves (Davao City National High School)

This year’s panelists are Macario D. Tiu, Jhoanna Lynn Cruz, John Bengan, Dominique Cimafranca, Errol Merquita, Nassefh Macla, Lualhati Abreu, Darylle Rubino, and Jay Jomar Quintos. Cebu-based writer Karla Quimsing is this year’s guest panelist and keynote speaker for the workshop’s opening program on November 14, 2018, 10:00 AM.

The workshop is open to those who are interested to listen to the discussions and learn from the panelists’ craft lectures.

The 2018 Davao Writers Workshop is organized in cooperation with the University of the Philippines Mindanao.

Seraya of the Sky (Part 1 of 3)

Fiction by | September 23, 2018

It was eons ago and night time was just an empty black sky. The sky and the sea were united in the dark and where people could not tell them apart. They thought that the sky could have fallen on the sea or the sea might have risen to the sky.

Fishermen fished at dawn. In order to be able to see in the midst of blinding darkness, they adorned their boats with lamps. They put them high above the deck, on their mast so that the light would reach farther than the prow. The heat from the lamps were warm enough to equal the midday sun and the people desperately wished to the deities living in the world above to dispel the sweltering winds. At predawn, the lamps flared in fiery yellow and orange illuminating the pathless voyage.

The lamps were as if paving the way for the coming of the sun, their torches mimicking its light as if its day, but instead of one, there are several little blazing suns at the middle of the sea in half-darkness.

The smooth surface of the black sea reflected the lights of the boats. The flickering show of lights was as if made for the little children who were still charmed with luminous things. The ones who just woke up came out of their houses on rafts to witness the spectacle. There in the black water, they touched the reflected glowing fire. There in the water, they changed the course and shape of the burning light when they tried to catch it with their hands. There in the water, they saw a threshold for a world that was not theirs, a mirage they would wish to dive.

That dawn, in a village beside the sea, a loud bellow of a baby was heard. Her wails were so strong it woke up the nearby houses. Seraya was the name that waited for her, a name long treasure by her mother, Agata. Her hands were clutched like a young mango fruit. And her small feet kept thrashing in the air. The deities above heard the people after all.

Continue reading Seraya of the Sky (Part 1 of 3)

Lego House (Part 3 of 3)

Fiction by | September 9, 2018

The next day after painting graves, Tito and Elias took their time resting in the graveyard along with the other workers. The Barangay Captain had gone, leaving them with snacks. He supplied them with empaynada, pancit, and rice. Each had their own share and heartily consumed the food. Again, they were also given soft drinks. But, this time it was two liters of Sprite.

The older man among the three workers spoke, “There are hearsays about these people planning to excavate this cemetery.”

None of them said anything. Everyone intently looked at the man. He added, “The rich always get to do whatever they want.”

“But, the people won’t let that happen. There are… Ano? Maybe hundreds of dead people buried here,” the gaunt man said. His voice was surprisingly deep for someone whose ribs protruded over his brown skin.

Elias looked at Tito, wanting to see his reaction. He wanted to see the reaction of someone who had dug the earth and found a gold earring early in the morning. But, Tito remained calm and unaffected by what the other workers were discussing. He listened and relished his food.

Then, out of the blue, the teenager spoke, “Ah! Is that why there’s this Starex that had been passing by the cemetery lately?”

Continue reading Lego House (Part 3 of 3)

Lego House (Part 2 of 3)

Fiction by | September 2, 2018

Elias said, “Is there? I only know of the Yamashita treasure. It was my grandfather who told me about it. The Japanese General. Pero, wala man gihapon.”

“We can search for the treasure ourselves,” Tito persuaded Elias.

“Nabuang naman guro ka?” Elias had no hint of emotion on his face, but his mind swirled with images of gold. He looked at the tombs and on the ground and then pictured shiny and heavy gold bars underneath the asphalt ground.

Tito said, “They did find a treasure at the wakeboard area. There must be one or two here as well!”

Elias’ eyes widened and he felt a shiver down his spine. He was speechless. But, he saw a clearer vision of gold bars beneath his feet. . . everywhere, underneath all the tombstones, trees and the small obelisk. “Treasure hunting has long been banned,” he answered back.

“The authorities had been planning to excavate the graveyard even in the past. They want the gold for themselves. Don’t you want them too?” Tito said in a low voice as if talking to himself.

“What if we’ll get caught?”

Continue reading Lego House (Part 2 of 3)