Pamalandong Bahin sa Panuwat, Pinulongang Binisaya, ug Mindanawon Writing by a Former English Spakaner

Nonfiction by | October 16, 2016

(Gibatbat ni sa Forum sa Mindanawon Writing katong 16 September 2016 sa Central Mindanao University, Musuan, Bukidnon.)

To tell you the truth, I don’t have the wisdom and know-how to discuss the topic because “Mindanawon Writing” is so vast. However, what I can share is a part of Mindanao that I’m more familiar with which is Cagayan de Oro because I was born and raised there as well as my affair with Binisaya. Ever since I wore diapers, I was trained to speak English. I also studied in a school where English and Filipino are absolute, though the latter language and I never seem to get along.

Continue reading Pamalandong Bahin sa Panuwat, Pinulongang Binisaya, ug Mindanawon Writing by a Former English Spakaner

Amirah

Fiction by | October 9, 2016

My neighbors are throwing sharp words at each other, piercing the wall that separates us. Very Manila, I tell myself. Sleep is becoming elusive the past days. The least I need are loud people crudely airing their dirty laundry at 1:30 in the morning while I prepare to do my Tahajjud. At this time at home in the province, everyone is halfway finished with individual supplications–no commotions in the neighborhood at all. After the prayer they would go eat the food that is already served in abundance. I glance at the table my househelp made.

Ya Allah, please bestow upon my parents a longer, healthier life. Please grant us a harmonious relationship within our family and relatives. Ameen ya Rabbul alameen.

Continue reading Amirah

Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 2)

Nonfiction by | October 2, 2016

It always appeared to me that introducing my future fiancée to my dad would not be a problem given the circumstance he had back then; yet I have been engaged for almost five years now and dad knows nothing about it.

They did marry, right after dad convinced my mom’s family that he would become a licensed engineer; and that he would also give her more than the Tamaraw FX that the other suitor promised. I smile when I see a picture of me as a baby held by my dad, in his toga beside my mom. The vastness of the MSU golf course filled the background.

Getting his license was an elusive thing. Dad was already teaching as a part-time instructor when he started his review for the board exam. During daytime, he taught disinterested engineering majors. At noon, he dealt with death threats from failing seniors. At night, he studied for his board and was in-charge of getting me to sleep. Mom told me that dad used to read his reviewer out loud while carrying me in one arm. I had heard of circuit theorems first before fables and fairy tales.

Dad never got any result, whether pass or fail, from the first board exam. No one in that batch did. All the test papers were burnt in a fire, which the examiners said was an “accident”. Dad would have left his dreams to die like the extinguished flame had he not met mom. With his wife, plus the baby that rested in his arm getting heavier, dad brushed the ashes off and was determined to do it all over again.

The examiners made sure to keep the test papers safe. Dad had his result the second time around.

He passed.

Continue reading Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 2)

Nanga Sa?

Poetry by | October 2, 2016

“Madayaw na araw!”, kadaig mga utaw ga-laong.
Pero sa bus pag awon magtiyab ng dinabaw o mandaya,
Gina-laong nilan, “nanga sa yaan siya?”
Yawala da gyud ang lingwahe nami na ngani yaghuya.
Awon mga okasyon, sa siyudad o hain man,
Mga bado nami, ginagamit, “identity ng Mindanao” laong nilan
Pero pag gamiton da ni Juan, awon stereotyping da uman,
Kag prejudice isab, murmur nilan as if, taga ibang bayan.
Todo deny isab minsan, pero tribal motif ang restaurant
Kadaigay customer, “no spoon” rule, dahon kanila pigka-anan,
Aduy! Maputi man o mga elite na awon, pigaganahan
Sana singud-saan da permanente, total kita-kita man lang.
Awon gani yag-ugpa ngadto Manobo o b’laan,
Few flapos da uman, sa radio ko yaan nadunggan,
Bisaya man ang accent, todo deny brethren ko kana-an,
Aduy! Nanga sa yaan silan, si Juan man isab mismo yagtago man.

Fraulein Bosch Silva obtained B.S. Psychology in Guidance and Counseling from Cor Jesu College in 1997. She enrolled and graduated M.A. Psychology in Counseling Psychology from Negros Oriental State University in 2005. She is currently taking up Ph. D. Psychology in Counseling Psychology at the Ateneo de Davao University. She is an Associate Member of the Psychological Association of the Philippines (PAP) and a former member of Philippine Guidance and Counseling Association (PGCA). She has written novels and recent inspirational and reference books entitled ‘Overcoming Anger’ and ‘Understanding the Self’ that will be out of market this year under Cronica Books publications.

Tubod Tunga sa Umahan

Poetry by | October 2, 2016

Una takang namatikdan sa umahan sa duol,
Gahawan pud day kas mga sagbot sa imong yuta.
Nag pamati ra kos mahilum, apan wala ko damha
Nga ang mga tan-aw nato duna pay ika lalum.

Nilabay ang pipila ka adlaw, nasaag ka sa akong yutang
Gi-atiman. Gi sugnod nimo ang mga kogon, gibungkal ang yuta,
ug gi ila-ila ang akong kalibutan.
Ang mga alindanaw sa akong umahan, nagmalipayon;
Ug ang mga punoan sa cacao nagpungasi.
Ang mga kogon sa yuta hinay hinay
Nga gakawagtang, gatubo na ang sagbot sa kabaw.

Sukad sa una natong pagila-ila,
dungan na tang gahulat sa pagsalop sa adlaw;
Nahibaw-an nakong duna tay kanya-kanyang kasubo,
Apan ang kinabuhi nimo’g ako dili hilayo.
Makapamati tas pareha nga huni,
Nagasayaw tas usa ka pandanggo.
Duna tay usa ka paghuna-huna sa ilalum sa tagsa-tagsa
Natong krus. Ang imong kasakit akoa, ang akoa, imo.
Ang atong mga pagbati napadayag bisan pas kawad-un
Sa mga pulong nga sakto.

Ang pagsubang sa adlaw kalipay sa mga mata
Kay ang kahayag midampi sa imong nawung
Ug gahatag sa kasidlak sa mga yamog.
Ay, kanindot sa talan-awun;
Pagka anindot lantawun sa umahang gitikad
Sa atoang mga singot.
Ang duga sa lemon nga daw aslum
gahatag og katam-is sa samad sa atong mga kamot.
Bulahan ang yuta’ng gi atiman sa nag higugmang
Kasing-kasing. Mabungahon ang yuta og dunay
Pagpanumbaling.

Cyrell is a psychosocial worker in a local NGO that helps young adolescent children in vulnerable situations. She is a graduate student of Masters in Applied Social Research at the Ateneo de Davao University. She also paints and sketches, aside from writing fiction and poetry.

Sanctify

Poetry by | September 25, 2016

She went to walk to the other end of the stage
Her feet rises one after the other, as if jumping,
When she reaches the other edge, she raises her arms and stands a while

She did this for many times; sometimes running,
sometimes walking. Her eyes sometimes search
she is looking for something;
There is a little girl who came with her mother

First, the wave of prayer. “Santa Maria
Madre de Dios rega por nosotros…”
It is seconded by her feet: pak pak pak pak

“…pecadores ahora y hasta para cuando…”
No one complains, no one thinks wrong of it
even if everyone sits, kneeling, praying
The Holy Virgin sits on the table

Three: A little girl’s laughter
“Amen.”

Floraime is a Basileña who majored in Literature, Linguistics, and Language Teaching at the Iligan Institute of Technology of the Mindanao State University. She is currently teaching subjects on Literary and Language Studies in the same university. The poem “Santifica” is the first Chabacano literary piece ever published in Dagmay. “Sanctify” is the approximation of the meaning in the Chabacano language, and not the translation, as indicated by the author herself.

Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 1)

Nonfiction by | September 25, 2016

My dad loves expensive clothing brands. He bought his first pair of Levi’s when he got his first pay.

This, people would assume, stemmed from the lack of luxury he experienced during his childhood. But there is more to it than just that. He would rather own just one pair of Levi’s than a dozen low quality jeans.

Dipolog, 1970

When he was only fourteen years old, my dad became the head of his family. Two successive deaths made him the caretaker of his mother and three younger siblings. His father (Jose), according to my lola, was stabbed multiple times by at least ten men because he wanted to build what could have been the first copra mill in their town. Later on, I’d learn that these men were members of the National People’s Army. Later on, I’d also learn that it was because lolo Jose left a woman heartbroken (having learned that he was already married to my lola), and that woman happened to be the sister of the NPA’s commander.

His eldest brother, Manolito, too young and too brave, joined the military to avenge their father only to be killed a month after. Both their deaths were accounted to the same rebel group.

Dad grew up in a town where relatives treated other members based on their status and the material things they own. Dad and his siblings ranked at the bottom because they wore nothing but relief clothes (relip or ukay) that lola had bought from the market. These clothes never fit them right. These were always too big and their color too pale, opposite to their cousins who were lavished with clothes from Dubai.

Dad’s sisters did the laundry. And the contrast of their clothes was obvious: while their cousins’ shirts hanged outstretched and clipped tightly to the rope, theirs were dumped in clumps and stacked sloppy on top of each bamboo pole.

I thought my dad, as a kid, surely must have complained about things. I was wrong.

Continue reading Gatsby Wears Levi’s (Part 1)