Pa

Fiction by | September 18, 2016

Tahimik kong tinanggap ang mga pangaral ni Lola kahit na gusto nang sumabog ng dibdib ko sa pagpipigil na masagot siya.

“Hindi ko naman napapabayaan ang pag-aaral ko, ‘La,” ngali-ngali kong isagot na ang tanging dahilan lang ng pagtitimpi ko ay ang pananahimik sa tabi ng Tatay ko.

Isa pang dumagdagdag sa pag-iksi ng pisi ko ang kuya kong kararating lang mula Maynila. Panay ang gatong at sulsol kay Lola na nagbanta pang tatawag sa kapatid naming nasa America na at sa ilan pang nasa Maynila.

Tinapunan ko ng tingin ang Tatay ko na hindi kumikibo sa panggigisa ni Lola sa akin at kausap na ngayon ang aking Tiyo. Parang tinarakan ang dibdib ko sa kawalan niya ng atensyon sa ginagawa sa akin. Mabilis kong inalis ang tingin sa kanya at nadaanan naman ng aking mga mata ang dalawa kong pinsan na bakas ang yabang sa mga mukha. Napatiim-bagang ako at inis na ikinuyom ang mga kamay ko.

“At sa inyo pa talaga ako ikinumpara! Eh mas mahirap naman mga lessons naming kaysa sa inyo!” bulyaw ko sa aking isip nang sumilay ang nakakalokong ngisi sa kanilang mga labi. “Pusang gala! Class A ako at nakikipag-kompetensya sa mga ka-lebel ng utak ko! Naging top lang kayo sa class section na Class B at C. Anak ng pusang gala! Matalino na yun?” Pagraragasa ng isip ko at isang irap ang ibinato ko sa kanila nang hindi nila nalalaman.

Continue reading Pa

The Third Waterfall

Poetry by | September 11, 2016

Her brute force rattles you
To the core, even from a distance.
She drops with such heaviness,
Such strength, that she sends spray
Back up the air, higher than her,
Ramming the forested slopes around
With her rumble, causing leaves
To tremble, your heart to flutter.

The most beautiful is the most
Terrifying, you tell yourself, humbled
By your smallness, by the mortality
Of your body. You stand still
Before her, and in mere minutes—
In your ears and eyes, her roar lowers
To a murmur, her fall slows
To a flow. She becomes something
Whose power you can harness,
Whose beauty you can sell.

Beasts stalk their prey, and before
They devour it, they pray.

Lake Sebu, South Cotabato
September 2016


Jude Ortega is from Sultan Kudarat Province. He was a fellow for fiction at the 2016 UP National Writers Workshop.

Tungang Gabii sa Divisoria

Poetry by | September 11, 2016

(Alang kang Krishna Mamoko)

Nibiya na ang usa ka kamot sa orasan.
Lagmit nagduka kon kinsa ma’y naniid nato
samtang nagbarog ta sa eskina. Kandado na

ang mga tindahan sama sa atong kahilom.
Ang salin sa kainit sa imong kamot
akong gikuptan samtang gapaabot
sa imong tagad, apan sama sa mga lampara

sa Divisoria, kapundiron imong mga mata.
Unta, mahabwa na ang tanang buot ipadayag
nga nadan-ok pa sa tutonlan.

Ug sama sa kawatan, kalit lang moikyas
hangtod ulahi na ang kahiamgo dungan
sa pagkahanaw unya sa tanan natong
gibahandi. Wala gihapon ta’y imik.

Wala’y tingog gawas sa minghoy nga awit
sa radyo dihang gipasakay tika’g taxi hangtod
nahabilin ko ug ang akong anino nadum-ok

duol sa bata nga gahithit og rugby. Nagpadayon
ang kagabhion. Giwitik ko ang sigarilyo
ug gisakmit ang abo duyog sa panghupaw,
nisakdap sa dalan nga taas

ang kadulom. Bugtong saksi ang buwan
niining tanan sa wala pa hingpit
nga gitukob sa gabusdik nga dag-om.


Mark “Ton” Daposala was born and raised in Cagayan de Oro City. His works have been published in Bisaya Magasin and Kabisdak. Ton now works as a faculty at Humanities and English Department of Capitol University. He’s also a member of CDO writers bloc, Bathalad-Mindanao, and NAGMAC.

Tablea Tales, Part 2

Nonfiction by | September 11, 2016

Tablea Tales, Part 1

I was 19 when I first experienced harvesting cacao fruits with my father. I realized it was my father’s first time to pluck cacao fruits off the tree as well. He was surprised how difficult it was to remove the fruits from their twigs. We discovered that the fruits were so attached with the tree that they just dry there hanging on the twig and only fall down when they were entirely black. The tree looked grim with all the hanging black, rotten cacaos. We plucked them off and threw them on the ground. It was as hard to remove as the fresh fruits.

My father rarely talked when we started harvesting and collecting the ripe cacao fruits. The only times he talked was when he would tell me to pick up the fruit that fell on the ground and put it on the huge plastic bag I was holding.  I was used to having imported chocolates in golden foils handed to me by my father when he would come home from work abroad. And after years of struggling overseas, here was my father with me in our backyard, harvesting yellowish cacao to add to the dozen I already had in my bag.

When I was a kid, I never wanted anything else but the chocolates father brought home almost every year. It didn’t matter then whether he was home for Christmas or not. We grew used to it. We grew used to having chocolates as a consolation for his long absence. But now as I was plucking off cacao with him, I realized I wanted him more than all the creamy, bitter-sweet chocolates combined. He had been away for years and I realized, as his calloused hands were struggling to pluck off some ripe cacao fruit, that there was nothing more beautiful than this moment.

Continue reading Tablea Tales, Part 2

The Song of Kagan, the Song of Unity

Poetry by | September 4, 2016

Bayok ng Kagan, Bayok ng Kakaysa (Original Kagan)

This is a call for everyone
Whose spirits will soon taste death
Rich and poor, you must remember
So your faith may increase.

This is to wake those sleeping souls
In a hopeful remembrance of their kin.
Cut not your ties
For Allah forbids it.

Empty the souls from enmity.
Stand for unity.
Stand for faith.
So you may fulfill our noble pledge
To Allahu Ta’ala.

Follow His commands.
And sow the unity in your heart
While it still beats.

English translation by Mohammad Nassefh R. Macla


Abdul Khaliq Tayongotong is a Kaagan-native from Lupon, Davao Oriental. He is currently taking up Bachelor of Education and Islamic Studies in the Davao Regional Arabic Academy, Inc. The poem Bayok ng Kagan, Bayok ng Kakaysa is originally a Kagan song, composed and sung by the author.

Bayok ng Kagan, Bayok ng Kakaysa

Poetry by | September 4, 2016

The Song of Kagan, the Song of Unity (English Translation)

Yani yang pagpasampay sang kariko natun
Na yaga-onawa da yang kamatay
Awnan aw miskinan, wajib na taduman
Sopaya magdogang yang iman ta.

Yani na pagpokaw sang yamatog na ginawa
Gaw na makatadum sang kawaris nan.
Di ta pagpotokon yang pamagutan ta,
Sabap pyaga-haram inyan ng Kadunan ta.

Tanakun natun sakit sang ginawa ta.
Paindug ta yang kakaysa.
Tabangan ta paglindog sang agama.
Untak matorid yang ongaya ta
Sang Kadunan ta.

Dayt na inangun ta uno na pyagasugo Nan.
Aw lilindug ta sang ginawa ta
Nang wa pa yang kamatay.


Abdul Khaliq Tayongotong is a Kaagan-native from Lupon, Davao Oriental. He is currently taking up Bachelor of Education and Islamic Studies in the Davao Regional Arabic Academy, Inc. The poem Bayok ng Kagan, Bayok ng Kakaysa is originally a Kagan song, composed and sung by the author.

Tablea Tales, Part 1

Nonfiction by | September 4, 2016

Tablea Tales, Part 2

Chocolates. I love how the mouth moves with the expression of the word. I love how the mouth pouts in the first syllable, how it opens and makes the cracking k sound, how the tip of the tongue touches the palate, creating the l sound and slowly creating a smile showing the teeth, as the tongue rests in the middle of the mouth. It’s funny how the whole mouth – the teeth, the lips, the tongue, everything – when combined together, could create such a beautiful word. Chocolates, I know, creates much pleasure as much as the ears take pleasure in listening to it when uttered.

I couldn’t remember a time when Krishelle, a childhood friend, ever missed a piece of Wiggles after lunch. Every after lunch, she would have me go with her outside the school for her daily dessert. Wiggles is a twisted colorful marshmallow coated in rich chocolate. It was nothing special, really, but I had seen how this small piece of sweets capped her lunchtime. She looked satisfied with it. Happy, even, that she always looked forward to its taste to cap her lunch for the day.

I was a witness of how this small twist of chocolate made her so happy and excited. She always offered me some and I just couldn’t refuse. I also wanted to feel the same delight she felt every single time she ate Wiggles. It was sweet like any other chocolates and there was actually nothing about it that was special at all. There was nothing extraordinary with the way the marshmallow complemented with the chocolate coating. I have tasted better marshmallows in chocolates before. And yet, she was happy. For us kids, that was all that mattered, then.

Continue reading Tablea Tales, Part 1

Of Corals and the Memories of Pablo

Nonfiction by , , , | August 28, 2016

Pablo Picture 2

It was a cold December 5 morning, with the waves rushing to the shore, when the municipality of Lingig faced a new day from Typhoon Pablo’s harsh winds. Lingig is the last municipality of Surigao del Sur. It is also the last town of Surigao del Sur before the next town of Boston, Davao Oriental. Somewhere far from shattered homes, fallen lines, and broken trees left by Pablo, the fishing community of Lingig discovered at mid-sea something that looks like a section of a deserted island. In fact, from where the people stood at Purok 3B, Cab-ilan Poblacion, the floating stretch of land looked more like a ghost ship.

It took an old fishing boat and a large dose of courage for two fishermen to discover what the strange, new island really was.

Susihon da lang nato daw unan ngidto kay para masayudan (Let’s go check whatever that is.),” said the younger of the fishermen, pulling the boat with him, his paddle on his side.

Amu agaw total guba dasa yang kanato mga bay (Let’s! After all, our homes have already been broken by the typhoon. What is there to lose now?),” replied the much older of the duo.

As the pair rowed across the calm seas, the rest of the community who gathered by the shore could not help but argue among themselves.

Guba ngiyan na barko (It is an abandoned ship.),” said one to his mates.

Basin haw isla ngiyan (Maybe it’s an island.),”said another.

O basin haw barko gikan sa lain na lugar tapos yada ngani kanato tungod ng dagko na bawod (Or it’s a ship from nearby place carried out by the big waves),” replied the other.

Their arguments took awhile until the fishermen who ventured to the sea returned.

Isla ngidto na yapuno ng korals (It’s an island made of corals!),” Ondo, the younger of the two, exclaimed with disbelief. “Kadto kamu para makakita kamu (Go there so that you’ll see it.),” he urged everyone to also go see what they have seen.

The news of the emergence of the mystical island spread throughout Lingig and the neighboring municipalities. While national television networks and the delivery of relief goods focused much on the devastated parts of Boston, Cateel, and Baganga, the people of Lingig had to fend themselves from people who were more interested with the new tourist sight. Tourists were intent on bringing back with them sacks of corals from the island.

It was only after several sacks of corals have been quarried from the mystical island that the attention was shifted in Lingig. More tourists came just to step on, and examine the island, or to swim on its surrounding cold seas. They have made light of the effects of Pablo, and have instead taken pleasure from the coral island that Pablo brought with it.

The mini island was named after the super typhoon, so it was called Pablo Island. Lingiganons do not want to call it Bopha since Bopha was a foreign name. As if to give tribute to the damages brought by the typhoon, naming the Pablo is a way for the people to reclaim what was left of their lives after the calamity. And to remember a time of their lives when losing everything is really to gain back one’s self.

Then again, Pablo Island has made some of the residents of Lingig fight with each other because they think they can willfully claim the ownership of the island.

Ako yang tag iya ng Pablo kay ako yaka una pag tagduk ng flag ngadto (I’m the owner of the island because I’m the first one to put a flag there),” said a fisherman who is known in the community to unlawfully claim things he fancies.

But the will of the majority is to leave Pablo unclaimed by anyone. Not even the man who has his flag firmly placed on the island. Any of the residents, though, could build his payag. But again, their payag is only made to be rented out to those who wish to visit the island.

The popularity of Pablo brings with it different stories and interpretations for its emergence. Some people believe it was an island of the mermaids because the shapes of the corrals which fill the whole island take various forms and sizes. In fact, most of those who quarried the corrals commented on their decorative qualities. Another story which tries to explain Pablo is the belief that it was the dwelling place of a mystical creature which is a half human and half snake.

For most of the Lingiganons, these stories are simply figments of man’s imagination. Accounts vary from creativity to outrageousness to bald-faced lies. For them, Pablo is the result of the large waves which to have carried these tons of corals and formed a new island. Even as one digs deep into the surface, only more corals can be seen on the island.

Three years has passed since Pablo, and today, it still remains among the Lingiganons. The island is still in existence, but it is more noticeable during low tide. This island speaks true to what a Lingiganon is: someone who has hurdled through the storm and the big waves which had washed down almost the entire community.

And the flag? The flag on Pablo will be a constant reminder that any Lingiganon will rise up to any challenge, be it storm or wave, and still reclaim their life from devastation.


Maria Diane D. Consuegra, Saimonah Judy Mae P. Acosta, Cheemnnee Lou A. Adaptar and Marra R. Martizano are Teacher Education students of Saint Vincent De Paul Diocesan College, Mangagoy, Bislig City.