OTe Ge een pe een es ees dee) Voices in Diversity Day A Comprehensive K12 Outcome Based Education 12) (ee ec ee Rhodora S. Ranalan, Ph.D.Grade 11 or 12 215" Century LITERATURE FROM THE PHILIPPINES AND THE WorLD Voices in Diversity DefED A Comprehensive K12 Outcome Based Education K12 (OBE)-Compliant Textbook-Workbook Rhodora S. Ranalan, Ph.D. &SFESPPhilippine Copyright 2016 by MegaTEXTS Phil, Inc. 21 Century Literature from the Philippines and the World: Voices in Diversity First Edition 2016 ISBN 978-621-95318-3-2 Classification: Textbook No portion of this book may be copied or reproduced in books, pamphlets, outlines, or notes, whether printed, mimeographed, typewritten, photocopied, or in any other form, for distribution or sale, without the written permission of the Publisher and Author/s. The infringer shall be prosecuted in compliance with copyright, trademark, patent, and other pertinent laws. Published and distributed by MegaTEXTS Phil., Inc. with main office at 101 Don Ramon Aboitiz Street 6000 Cebu City, Philippines Contact: +63 (032) 253-3391 | Telefax: +63 (032) 253-8694 Makati Branch Office: 3/F, 3-1 One Palanca Land (OPL) Building 100 C. Palanca corner de la Rosa Street 1229 Makati City, Philippines Contact: +63 (02) 892-9506 | Telefax: +63 (02) 813-5814 Davao Branch Office: Door 3, Ebro Pelayo Building, Juan Luna Street 8000 Davao City, Philippines Contact/Telefax: +63 (082) 255-0469 www.megatextsphils.com | inquiries@megatextsphils.com In partnership with St. Francis Scholastic Publications (SFSP) with editorial address at Door 1 (Generika), Al Naz Building, Piapi Blvd., corner Fatima Street, 8000 Davao City, Philippines Contact: +63 (082) 282-4251 .edboard@yahoo.com.ph Email:Preface ‘This book has a two-part series which introduces students to contemporary issues ead concerns as these are depicted in literary works written by men and women writers of recent times. The thematic organization of the different literary works explores present day concerns as seen through the eyes of writers from different periods in Philippine history and from different parts of the world. Part | explores the themes through its three units, Unit I “Imaging the Filipino Identity” cases on how Filipinos create and recreate identities in the midst of diaspora and other seodern day problems. Unit II “Tradition and History” presents one of the recurring themes S= Zist century writings—the need to reconnect with a past. Finally, Unit II] “Tntertextuality = = Modern World” continues reconnection with past works and other texts in a web of Gscourses. Conversely, part 2 features its thematic discourses through its three units as well. Unit {V “East Meets West” explores the connection of the East, of which the Philippines belongs, and the western part of the world. Unit V “Globalization and Technology” tackles the Sepact of globalization and technology on societal issues. Finally, Unit VI “Individualism acd Gender Relations” focuses on one of the most controversial issues in contemporary ‘mes, women concerns and gender concerns. Bringing about a personal response to literature is another component that the book ‘eddresses. It incorporates learning activities to help students get a more meaningful escounter with reading materials. The literary pieces are enriched with activities which ‘=Sgage students in thought and writing, using different modalities and literacy skills needed ‘by 2ist century learners. The organization of the learning activities follows this format: 1. Approaching the text ~ Pre-reading activities that activate prior knowledge and motivate the students to read further 2. Shaping Interpretations ~ During Reading activities that facilitate: (a) Comprehension and appreciation of literary form and content (b) Cognitive and Affective engagement with the text 3. Extending the text - Post Reading activities that reinforce learning in the classroom by connecting the text to the larger society The book subscribes to the guiding principles set by the competencies provided by the “Department of Education. It incorporates the following elements in each of the lessons: + Outcome Based + Scaffolding + Interdisciplinary + Intertextual approachUnit IV. Table of Contents IMAGING THE FILIPINO IDENTITY il Lesson 1: DH Sunday, Hongkong by Isabela Banzon-Moone Lesson 2: From Saudi with Love by Ariel Dim. Borlongan ...... Lesson 3: The Sorrow of Distances by Jaime An Lim Lesson 4: Muted Cry by Trinidad Tarrosa-Subid Lesson 5: [am One of the Mountain People by Macario D. Tiu. Lesson 6: The Conversion by J. Neil C. Garcia..... TRADITION AND HISTORY Lesson 1: Summer Solstice by Nick Joaquin Lesson 2: Soledad by Angela Manalang Gloria Lesson 3: Sapay Koma by Jhoanna Lynn Cruz Lesson 4: The God Stealer by Francisco Sionil José Lesson 5: ‘The White Horse of Alih by Egmidio A. Enriquez Lesson 6: ‘The Hidden Injuries of the Poor by Randy David...... INTERTEXTUALITY IN A MODERN WORLD 107 Lesson 1: Subterrania by Luis Joaquin M Katigbak Lesson 2: Allen & Borges by Joy Dayrit.... Lesson 3: Flowers of Youth by Tita Lacambra-Ayal: Lesson 4; Absent Maam by Ferdinand Balino. Lesson 5: La Bete Humaine by Marissa Migu Lesson 6: Summer by Lawrence Lacambra Ypil.. EAST MEETS WEST Lesson 1: Mother Tongue by Amy Tan ....... Lesson 2: Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri Lesson 3: Diameter of a Bomb by Yehuda Amichai .. Lesson 4: The Taximan's Story by Catherine Lim Lesson 5: American Guests Come to Our House by Aziz Nesin. Lesson 6: The Mirror by Haruki Murakami...Unit VI. GLOBALIZATION AND TECHNOLOGY Lesson 1: Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. . Lesson 2: Dead Men's Path by Chinua Achebe.. Lesson 3: At the Auction of the Ruby Slippers by Salman Rushdi Lesson 4: Sure Thing by David Ives. Lesson 5: Failure by Alvin Pang... Lesson 6: Flower by Kim Chun Soo... Unit VII. INDIVIDUALISM AND GENDER RELATIONS Lesson 1: An Introduction by Kamala Das... Lesson 2: Chabela’s Wedding Cake by Laura Esquivel Lesson 3: Her by Titis Basino.. Lesson 4: Life of Pi by Yann Martel Lesson 5: The Way & ‘The Way Things Are by Nila NorthSun Lesson 6: Love Letter from the Toothbrush to the Bicycle Tire by Sarah Kay... REFERENCES .... ABOUT THE AUTHOR ...UNIT Learning Outcome: IMAGING THE FILIPINO IDENTITY Write a literary analysis of a poem using a formalist critical approach in order to deepen understanding and appreciation of Philippine literary forms as well as issues and problems as they unfold in different periods in our literary history. At the end of the unit, the students are able to: 1, read a poem with proper pronunciation and appropriate emotion; analyze the figures of speech and other literary elements and devices in the texts; 3. explain the literary, linguistic and socio-cultural contexts of the works and discuss how they enhance the text’s meaning; 4. situate the text in the context of the region and the nation; 5. transform and extend creatively the literary texts to other artistic expression using multimedia aidsLesson 1 | DH Sunday, Hongkong Approaching the Text: Are you familiar with the term OFW? Study the picture below. Does it suggest a different meaning for the term? What do you think are the real situations of our OFWs today? Agree or Disagree with the following statements: (a) Poverty is the main reason why Filipinos are working abroad. (b) OFWs prefer to work in Asian countries because of the similarity of cultures. (c) Filipinos are not ashamed to work menial jobs as long as it is in foreign countries (d) OFWs who can speak good English are better paid than those who are not proficient in the English language. Reading the Text: Adopta Filipino accent and then read the poem aloud with consideration of the unique phrasing and language used by the poet. DH Sunday, Hongkong by Isabel Banzon-Mooney (Isabela Banzon-Mooney teaches at the University of the Philippines-Diliman. Her recent publications include a poetry collection, Lola Coqueta (UP Press, 2009) and criticism on poetry in English from the Philippines.) I'm not ashame to be pinoy: My contract's not expire, so pity but I want a little to enjoy.I not stop working, but unggoy or please they never say to me; 5 well, I'm not ashame to be pinoy. No play on day-off, no toy With lift that go updown—no sorry Too but I want alittle to enjoy. [fix pinoy foods, hot like bachoy, 10 very near to Jollibee Why I ashame to be pinoy? Jewelries, pants, you like, ‘Noy? Maam, you pay? I take your money ‘cause I want a little to enjoy. 15 Lalso buy—but cheap only, hoy— pasalubong for my family. Tm not ashame to be pinoy, I want so little to enjoy! Literary Focus: Tone TONE is the element of poetry which refers to the mood or attitude of the poet towards his/her subject matter. Uncovering the poem’ Tone entails the identification of the text’s persona—the one speaking and sharing his/her experience through the poem. The experiences shared by this persona are couched in language that conveys intense emotions. The result is an overall atmosphere that may be sad, happy, angry, anxious, hopeful, sincere, gloomy, bitter or nostalgic.Notesde & Section. ig Interpretations: ‘Task 1: Identifying Tone in Poetry ‘The poem “DH Sunday, Hongkong” is an example of 2Ist century poetry tackling ‘exc of the pressing social problems of a modern society. Find a partner and discuss your -snswers to the following questions: 1. Who is the persona of the poem? Why is s/he speaking in ungrammatical English? 2. What experience is s/he sharing to the readers? What kind of work is s/he doing? 3. Why did s/he say that s/he is not ashamed to be Pinoy? What emotion is conveyed by this statement? 4, The poem ends with the persona expressing a repeated line: that s/he wants to enjoy. What was s/he feeling when s/he said this? Lesson 1 — Unit! | 21st CLPTask 2: Checking Comprehension Rephrase the ungrammatical construction of the following lines from the poem to better understand their meaning. The first one is done for you. lin from the poem gO Le T'm not ashame to be pinoy Tm not ashamed to be known as a Filipino My contract's not expire, so pity but I want a little to enjoy I not stop working but unggoy or please they never say to me No play on day-off, no toy With lift that go updown—no sorry I fix pinoy foods, hot like bachoy Why I ashame to be pinoy? Jewelries, pants, you like, ‘Noy? Maam, you pay? I take your money Lalso buy—but cheap only, hoy ino Workers (OFWs) Task 3: Extending the Text—Overseas Fi "Another Filipino poet who often writes about OFWs is Ruth Elynia lo. ‘Considered as one of the leading female Filipino poets of our time, Mabanglo has received awards such as the fa Tae Mala oy he oe Organizations Overseas, in the “Pamana ng Pilipino” category. Research on “Liham ni Pinay Mula sa Brunei” by Ruth Elynia Mabanglo, Log on to http://www2.hawaiiedu/~mabanglo/tagLiham_brunei.htm and read the poem. The first two stanzas are provided below. Take note that the first stanza describes the persona and the second stanza portrays one of the reasons why she left the country to work abroad. Read the rest of the poem to find out what happened to her after working in Brunei. 21st CLP | Unit! - Lesson 1 6Ako’y guro, asawa at ina, Isang babae—pupol ng pabango, pulbos at seda, Kaulayaw ng batya, kaldero at kama, Napagod yata ako't nanghinawa, ‘Nagsikap mangibang-lupa. Jott iyon din ang lalaking umuupo sa kabisera, Nagbabasa ng diyaryo uma-umaga. Naghihintay siya ng kape At naninigarilyo, Habang kagkag ako sa pagitan ng kuna at libro, Nagpapahid ng lipstick at nagpapatulo ng gripo. Hindi siya nag-aangat ng mukha ‘Umaaso man ang kawali o umiingit ang bata. Hinahatdan ko siya ng brief at tuwalya sa banyo, Inaaliw kung mainit ang ulo. Wala siyang paliwanag Kung bakit hindi siya umuwi magdamag, Ngunit kunot na kunot ang kanyang noo Kapag umaalis ako ng Linggo. Ayaw niya ng galunggong at saluyot Kahit pipis ang sobreng inabot, Ibig pa yatang maghimala ako ng ulam Kahit ang pangrenta’y laging kulang. Lesson 1 — Unit! | 21st CLPLesson 2 | From Saudi with Love Approaching the Text: Read about OFWs who have committed crimes while working abroad. Suggested links: + Indonesia to accelerate legal process for Filipina on death row* Rappler + Pinoy pinugutan sa Saudi—InterAksyon Reading the Text: From Saudi with Love by Ariel Dim. Borlongan (Ariel Dim, Borlongan has published Pasintabi sa Kayumanggi, a collection of poems, and Bagong Lumipas | and 2, translations of Renato Constantinos A Past Revisited . He has won Palanca awards for his poetry and garnered Makata ng Taon laurels from the Komisyon ng Wikang Filipino. Borlongan is the current Associate Editor of Balita.) Kumusta na minamahal kong kabiyak, Okey ba ang grades ng ating mga anak? ‘Ang aking Junior, nagba-basketball pa ba? Si Anna, tiyak na siya ang Reyna Elena At hinangaan noong Flores de Mayo, Kumusta na si Kumpareng Serapio? Kumagat siya sa kumalat na tsismis Na kumaliwa ang kanyang misis Kaya nagkunwari siyang tinotoyo Sa araw-gabing pagsubo ng pako. Ako tuloy ang napilitang tumanggap Ng extension sa kanyang pagtuwad, Ayos ba ang padala kong colored TV? Nadale ko iyon sa raffle. Anong sabi Ni bayaw sa collection ni Springsteen? Akala ko, makabayan siya, bat humiling Ng imported? Teka nga muna, mahal, Ano't dumalang ang iyong liham? Hindi ako bilib sa voice tape ni Inang Na naloloko ka sa bagets na kapitbahay, 9‘Alam mo naman ang hirap ng buhay dito... Nakasosora na ang manok na elado, o, may ubas, kahel, at mansanas. Pero iba talaga ang Pilipinas. ‘Mula nang ilipat ako dito sa Riyadh At wala nang balitang natanggap Mula sa at sa ating mga anak, Laging alboroto ang aking utak. Sa homesick, natukso ako sa beauty Ng misis ng aking among Arabe. Patawad. Huling liham ko na ito. Sa Biyernes, pupugutan ako ng ulo. Literary Focus: Imagery and Dramatic Monologue IMAGERY is that element of poetry which refers to words in the poem that create figures or images in our minds that are suggestive of sense impressions. Words appeal to the senses when they evoke in the reader the same sensations the poet felt when s/he first experienced an event. If the words suggest an image mainly perceived by the eye, this is called Visual Imagery. If mainly perceived by the ear, it is an Auditory Imagery. If through the nose, the image is an Olfactory Imagery and Gustatory Imagery if the image evokes taste. If the image is mainly perceived through touch, that is a Tactile Imagery. If the image denotes action or movement, it is called Kinesthetic Imagery and if it evokes sensations of hotness or coldness, Thermal Imagery. Dramatic Monologue Literary Focus: A dramatic monologue is literally a speech spoken by one person. It is dramatic in the sense that the speaker is addressing his/her words to somebody not physically present but who actively talks back. This addressee is merely suggested in the speaker's words and the readers don't hear this person answering. The dramatic monologue is an effective technique in characterization for its primary focus is the development and revelation of the speaker's character, The more the speaker talks, the more s/he reveals what kind of person s/he is.NE: a, oe ‘Name Date Grade & Section Shaping Interpretations: Task 1: Identifying Imagery Complete the table below by identifying the type of the sensory images listed on the left column. Write the type of image in the right column, ‘Ihe first is done for you. Yreka 8 1. kinesthetic image ee 1, Ang aking Junior, nagba-basketball pa ba? 2. siya ang Reyna Elena 3. noong Flores de Mayo 4. Kumalat na tsismis 5. pagsubo ng pako 6. Colored TV . Voice tape ni Inang ‘Nakasosora na ang manok na elado een |. ubas, kahel, at mansanas 10. pupugutan ako ng ulo Task 2: Checking Comprehension Think, Pair, Share: 1, Who is the persona of the poem? From the code switching used by this persona, make an inference as to the kind of person he is. 2. Who is he talking to? What are his feelings for this person? u Lesson 2 - Unit! | 21st CLP3, Enumerate the things that he has sent home to his family. Enumerate the questions he has asked from his wife. 5. The poem is written in such a way that the poet holds back an important information and only reveals it at the end. Is this technique effective? Why will the persona be beheaded? Task 3: Creative Writing Write a poem using the same style as the monologue poem of Ariel Dim Borongan. Adopt the persona of his wife or son and address the concerns presented in the poem. Focus on the following details: 1. condition of the wife, grades and activities of the children: situation of the neighbour Serapio: RY the gifts he has sent; the reasons why he will be beheaded. 21st CLP | Unit! — Lesson 2 12Lesson 3 | The Sorrow of Distances Approaching the Text: Change they say is the only thing constant in this world, If you meet someone you have seen for a very long time, what changes would you expect or not expect from her/him? How ready are you to accept these changes? Reading the Text: The Sorrow of Distances by Jaime An Lim A multiawarded poet and fictionist, Jaime L. An Lim won several Don Carlos Palanca Memorial | Awards for fiction in English (1973, 1993), essay (1989), short story for children (1990, 1993), and (1990). For his outstanding achievement in fiction and poetry, he was awarded the 2000 Gawad Pambansang Alagad ni Balagtas by the Unyon ng mga Manunulat sa Pilipinas (UMPIL). He organized the Mindanao Creative Writers Group, Inc., and founded the Tligan National Writers Workshop.) I rehearse the Cebuano words for cities, mountains, oceans, continents— what stand between us now, the lonely distances that the heart, nightly, when the lights go out, must journey in its long weary home. limagine what can no longer be— you across this kitchen table, intently picking seeds from your grapes, a half moon glowing from your banged hair. Suddenly my tuna sandwich turns soggy. Iclear the table. I blow my nose. Iturn the radio on. I Jet the hot water run. How I miss you. There: in its terrible simplicity. ‘This love I hold for you—daughter, friend. I tell myself: only a year more. A year. And then the familiar whirlwind of your arms, the bright leap of your laughter. Will you still be there for me? Or will you have grown beyond my reach? 13Standing in the doorway, demure asa lady, solemn asa caryatid bearing the burden of a new world, your wrists weighed down By the bracelets of the years?‘Name Grade & Section ! Task 1: Checking Comprehension 1. Describe the persona. . What does the line “I rehearse the Cebuano words” imply about his background? ‘What does this imply about the relationship between him and his daughter? nv 3, What vivid images of the daughter does the persona convey? 4, What does the line “bearing the burden of the new world” imply about the daughter? 1 ; Shaping Interpretations: 5, Is the persona happy or anxious with the return of the daughter? Task 2: Think, Pair, Share 1, Give at least two reasons why Jaime An Lim's “The Sorrow of Distances” is considered to bea free verse poem. Cite lines from the poem when justifying your answers, Lesson 3 — Unit! | 21st CLP2. Is the use of free verse effective? Argue for or against the effectiveness of free verse in the poetic expression of ideas and feelings. Task 3: Digital Poetry Free verse is not the only contemporary poetic form that is popular with writers today. With the advances in technology in today’s globalized world, digital communication has become the newest venues to write poetry in very modern forms. Such poetic genres as Textula and Hypertext poetry are some of the new forms of poetry that are keeping pace with new advances in digital technology. Try your hand at these new forms by applying digital technology to the poem “The Sorrow of Distances’. Task 4: Reflection Essay on the Formal Elements of Poetry Write a reflection paper discussing the conditions of OFWs today. Use the following guide questions to help you organize your essay: (a) What experiences do OFWs encounter when they work abroad? If these experiences are destructive, why do they continue to work in foreign countries? (b) How are the OFW experiences written in the three poems poems “DH Sunday, Hongkong,’ “From Saudi with Love,’ and “The Sorrow of Distances” presented above? Quote lines to support your answer, (c) How effective are literary devices such as Tone and Imagery in conveying the world of the OFWs? Cite specific poems to illustrate your answer. 21st CLP | Unit! - Lesson 3 18Lesson 4 | Muted Cry Approaching the Text: Study the two images below. What problem situation can you discern from these two images? Is this problem prevalent in our society today? Here WE SPEAK qn ENGLISH Reading the Text: Muted Cry by Trinidad Tarrosa-Subido (Trinidad Tarrosa-Subido is a poet, author, translator, and journalist who was acclaimed as one of the best writers of the 1930s in 1980, She was given a Lifetime Achievement Award by the Writers Union of the Philippines.) I They took away the language of my blood, giving me one “more widely understood” More widely understood! Now Lips can never Never with the Soul-in-Me commune: Moments there are I strain, but futile ever, To flute my feelings through some native Tune... Alas, how can I interpret my Mood? They took away the language of my blood. If I could speak the language of my blood My blood would whirl up through resistless space Swiftly—sure-flight no one can retrace, 19And flung against the skyey breast of God, Its scattered words, charged with passion rare, With treble glow would dim the stars now there. II Shakespeare, Dante, Sappho, and the rest, They who are now poets deified, Never their language being them denied, Their moods could be felicitous expressed— Crimson of joy, purple of grief, Grey of unrest, white of relief - ‘Their dreams'so colored, living forms they seem, ‘The real lent enchantment like some faery-dream. If could speak the language of my blood, My feet would trace the path their feet have trod, And stake a niche within their lot of Fame, Of jade-and-gold, and carve me there a name. Ah, could I but speak the language of my blood, I, too would free the poetry in me. And this now apathetic world would be Awakened, startled at the silver flood Of Song, my soul aptly expressing, Each flood-to listeners impressing. More as the water-drop into a pearl congealed Than asa ripple on the ocean's breast revealed. j TI These words I speak are out of pitch with Me! That other Voice? Cease longing to be free! How can’t thou speak who hast affinity Only with promised-but-unflowered days, Only with ill-conceived eternity, Being, as they, mere space lost unto Space? Forever shalt thou cry, a muted god: “Could I but speak the language of my blood!” 20 ———: Figurative LanguageNotes 22Name Grade & Section pS x Shaping Interpretations: Task 1: Checking Vocabulary Circle the letter of the word that is closest in meaning to the capitalized word: MUTED. a) decrease in volume FUTILE a) useless DEIFIED a) forgotten NICHE a) responsibility TREBLE a) tough CONGEALED a) hardened FELICITOUSS) a) unfavourable TROD a) stepped. APATHETIC a) lively 10. AFFINITY a) similarity 23 Date b) pointless b) helpful b) sacred b) place b) pessimistic b) lukewarm b) unable to express ) expanded b) indifferent b) formality ¢) silenced c) developed ¢) contained ¢) task ¢) shrill sound ¢) calm c) blessed ) agreed c) fresh c) affection Lesson 4 - Unit! | 21st CLPTask 2. Identify the type of figures of speech used in the poem and determine their mean- ings, The first one is done for you. or mother tongue | 2, Flute my feelings | 3. Resistless space 4. enchantment like some faery-dream 5. free the poetry in me 6. Muted Cry 7. Shakespeare, Dante, Sappho, | and the rest Task 3: Checking Comprehension L Nv wi . “That other Voi Describe the persona. What experience is she sharing in this poem? Why is her cry ‘muted’? Why is she not allowed to speak her native tongue? . Do you agree that if she were allowed to use her native tongue like Shakespeare, Dante and Sappho, she would be a better writer? -—Cease longing to be free!” What decision or sentiment is expressed by this line? Do you think that the persona has given up on her dream to speak in her own tongue? What irony or paradox can you see in the poem? 21st CLP | Unit! — Lesson 4 24Eee Lesson 5 | | am One of the Mountain People Approaching the Text: Words for a Word: What comes into your mind when you hear the word “Lumad”? What problems are they experiencing nowadays? In your opinion, what possible solutions can be offered to help ease the problems of the lumads? Read the story below to get insights about this issue from the perspective of one of these mountain people. Reading the Text: 1Am One of the Mountain People | by Macario D. Tiu | Dr, Macario Tia is a Literature professor and the Publications director of Ateneo de Davao University. He has three Palanca golds for Short Story in Cebuano. He has also won the Philippine Graphics Fiction award for his writing in English. Dr, Tiv’s publishing track includes Skyrose and Other Stories. He has also published Davao: Reconstructing History from Text and Memory which won the National Book Award in the history category in 2005.) I did not want to go to Santa Barbara, but Ita Magdum forced me to go there. He wanted me to havea Christian education. He told me that he was not going to let me remain idle in the mountains, and consequently become as stupid as ignorant as the rest of his people. He said that 1 could learn many things from the Christians and in that way I could help improve the lot of the whole tribe. I was then seven summer old and I didn't understand what he was talking about. Although he made the prospect of going there very tempting, I refused to go. Not even the tales of the three-storey school building, of running houses and plenty of food and toys convinced me that I should leave my home and my friends for Santa Barbara, And so Ita had to beat me to make me go with him to the Christian town. We traveled for five days before we reached our destination. The trip was hazardous and formidable, We crossed the river, Subangdaku, which was infested with deadly crocodiles, on a rafi. We struggled in the deep marches and inched our way through thick forest. It was nightfall when we reached the town. Ita immediately left me to the care of the elderly woman called Nana Loling, She was a kind woman, She assured me that everything would be alright. But I was not comforted, That night, a nagging desire to escape and run home kept me awake, But how? In the still of the night, dogs were howling intermittently. A bad omen? Then I feared I might get lost on the way or a sawa might be waiting for me. In school, I was the laughing stock, because I was not of their kind. How they laughed when I told them I came from the Green Area, that part of land where no Christian had ever gone. For that, I was always in trouble. And I was always brought me the principal’s office 25for disciplinary action. Why did you pull Elenita’s hair, he would ask. Or why did you box Berto’s ears? And I would answer, because Elenita kicked me and Berto called me “pig” and “monkey” But I was whipped anyway, no matter what reason I gave. That was the only way to tame me, I heard them say. Ita visited me once every two months. Every time he would visit me, Td plead with him to bring me home. But he would refuse. It was not yet time for me to go home, he would say. I was terribly homesick, How I wished I could be at Ita’ side. 1d plead with him to be ‘with my own people; to sit by the bonfire and listen to the weird stories of the long past—of how the early Balangays at the seacoast of Caraga were attacked by fierce Allah worshippers and how gallantly our early forebears fought, but were forced to move out to the mountains. I loved to hear the vaunting of the hunters on how they got the fangs of wild boars and crocodile teeth that decorated their necks. I wanted to be like them. ‘The three-storey building in Santa Barbara was indeed tall, but the trees at Kapalong were much taller. There was nothing glamourous with those running houses either. They only frightened me as they whizzed by carrying logs on their backs and screaming infernally at people to keep out of the road. Food was plenty so were the fruits. But money was needed before we could get them. At Kapatagan, I could get all the fruits I wanted for free. Six years I suffered. Then Ita brought me home for a visit as a gift for my graduation. How happy I was to home again! I was so happy I didn’t mind the hardships of the trek, I even forgot about the sawa. But with Ita, really I feared nothing. He was the master of the jungle. He had said once that he owned the vast tract of land from Caraga to Santa Barbara, but that some parts of it were stolen by the outsiders. Texpected some jubilation upon my return, But our place was bleak. Later I learned that my own people now considered me as Christian, therefore an infidel. Indeed, what was there to be happy about the return of an infidel? I found them to be indifferent to me, even hostile. Ita told me not to mind them. They didn’t understand what was his design for me, he said, and the whole tribe. Bal-og, my younger brother, thought of me asa hero, He said he envied me. He confessed that he disliked the tattoos he had. How he cursed the man who pierced his earlobes. It was in one of these talks with Bal-og that I realized how different I was from them, from my own people. had no tattoos. I had no holes in my earlobes. Yet I knew deep inside me I was one of them. There was a deep pain of being unwanted. The agony I felt. Constantly I cried: “I am of the mountains. I am one of the mountain people? And yet somehow I was not. It would still be some four to five years before Bal-og was allowed to go to Santa Barbara. Therefore he had a great thirst to know more other Christian town. I told him many stories about it: my studies, the three-storey school building, the running houses and the Christians. “What does Christian mean?” he asked me once. I didn't know too, to be honest. But I told him about the big house with steeples and a belfry. It was owned by the tall white man who always wore a white dress. I described it to him: there were big anitos inside it. Beautiful anitos. Their hands were outstretched as 26if ready to embrace. I told him that these anitos were quite different from ours, Our anitos grasped their knees and their eyes were abnormally large and protruding. “How else do we differ from them?” he became more curious. “Well, for one thing.” I told him, “the Christians do not worship big trees or the flying wild geese like we do. In fact they cut big trees and shoot wild geese.” He muttered a curse upon hearing this. “Then, they would also cut the Magu? “he asked in disbelief. How naive my brother is, I thought and I laughed. The Magu was the biggest tree in the forest. It was said to be abode of the anitos. We gave offerings to the Magu during the full moon to appease the anitos. I learned while in Santa Barbara, however that there was only one God, Our teacher, Mrs. Martinez, taught us that this God was to be loved by all, not feared. The mountain people feared the Magu, therefore the Magu must be a fake God. So I told Bal-og that the “Magu” was just another big tree, and when finally the place would be accessible to the Christians, they would cut it. Bal-og ran away from me in horror when I said that. I did not know what prodded me to go to the Magu one day and make a dirty mark, a big cross, on its gnarled bark. Perhaps I just wanted to test the veracity of Mrs. Martinez’ teachings. When the elders heard about it, they immediately went to the Magu to offer sacrifices, I could have been the one sacrificed; but then I was the son of Datu Magdum. So they burned instead five chickens, a pig, wild fruits and sack of rice. They danced hysterically around th Magu. The priest, after the sacrificed offerings shook his head, and said that surely the anitos would punish me. I wouldn't see another tomorrow he said, for the anitos would get me in my sleep. : I was afraid of what the priest said. Meanwhile, Ita just kept silent. He didn't comfort me nor scold me. And that night, I prayed myself to sleep. I prayed hard to the Blessed Virgin as I never prayed before. I also asked forgiveness from the Magu, promising not to do a thing like that again. And I survived to see another tomorrow. ‘The elders then thought that maybe the anitos were pleased with the offerings and did not have to punish me. They again went to the Magu and offered sacrifices. They also scraped off the mark I made. : When the furor over the incident died down, I started going openly to the bonfire and sat with the younger group and listened to the tales of the tales of the old men and warriors. The stories usually centered on the exploits of our ancestors and the glory of our tribe before the Allah-worshippers came. How the elders cursed these infidels! Never, never befriend an infidel of this kind, for the Magu wouldn't like it. I didn't believe them of course. In Santa Barbara, my only friend was Abdul. My classmates were afraid to chide and make fun of him because he had warned them that his grandfather was a baraungan and owned a tame bee colony that could kill a man at his command. Abdul never went inside the big house. He said that the pandita told him it was the house of the devil. See those idols there? He asked. People who worshipped in that house would be punished by Allah, he said. 1 felt awkward, whenever I was with my old friends whom I befriended again seeing how different I was from them. I just loved their tattoos. I had none. And my earlobes 27were desperately unattractive. However, I let myself forget to brush my teeth and I started chewing betel nut. I let my fingernails grow, I dirtied my body with charcoal dust. And I enjoyed everything of it. I loved that kind of life. Ita, however, didn’t like what I was doing. He had tried hard to spare me the tribal customs of tattooing and boring the earlobes so I could be presentable to the people of Santa Barbara. Now I must not destroy his hopes for me, he warned. But everyday, I was drawn closer and closer to the ways of my own people. Finally, forgetting It’s warnings I let Apo ‘Ugpo carve a tattoo on my chest, When Ita discovered this, he whipped me! You disobeyed me! His whole body shook with anger as he hit my back with a lash. I told him I wanted his kind of life and I pleaded with him to let me stay forever, But it made him angrier. He told me I was his only hope, his people’s hope. That I must learn’ from the Christians and discover their source of power, for they were continually advancing toward the Green Area, stealing large tracts of our land. He said that I should learn from them so that our tribe would know how to deal with them when, as the Allah worshippers did, the Christians would drive us out from our homes. Learn from them, and stay in Santa Barbara to speak for us, Try to love the place, he said, I told him I tried but that I failed for Istill hated Santa Barbara. Try again, and he left me. ‘The next morning, Ita sent me back with Isog as my guide. He was as old as I was. He ‘was being trained as a warrior. On a way, he showed me a village burned by the Christians at the edge of the Green Area. It was my uncle’ village. He said the Christians killed many of my uncle’s people, and now all the tribes were arming themselves except ours. Your father, Datu Magdum, wants us to change according to Christians ways, he said, spitting at the word Christian. We are a great tribe, he added, | say we fight them when they touch us, like our forefathers did when the Allah worshippers came, And he looked at me with angry eyes. Tlanguished in Santa for another year. What was there to learn? High School education ‘was worthless. It hadn't done anything good for me nor my classmate: On the contrary, Berto became a habitual drunkard and was expelled from school. Flenita became pregnant and was driven away by her own parents. As days rolled by, my desire to go home became more intense. It was getting unbearable. Too, it had been seven years already that I had stayed in Santa Barbara, but still I was considered an outsider, an outcast. That was more unbearable. And at night I always prayed to the Blessed Virgin to make my classmates love me. Then maybe I could like Santa Barbara and stay there, forever like what Ita wanted. But my prayers were not heard. Everything was wasted. Not even kneeling for hours and kissing each bead of the rosary over and over again did much good, The Virgin seemed to have forgotten me. ‘The last time Ita visited me, I was surprised to see how he changed, He looked very old. He told me to be patient and to be stronger in my determination. With him was Isog who took me aside when Ita was talking with Nana Loling. There was another massacre in Kapatagan, he said. Many are discontented with your father. He talks of you learning the Christians magic. They don't have magic, they have guns. That's their source of power, he said. His eyes burned with hate, and I knew he was mocking me. I thought of nothing else for days but Isog’s angry words. My people! My people! They were being slaughtered like pigs while I did nothing but try to learn something I didn't want to learn. And I was ashamed of myself. 28So I decided to go home, I pierced my earlobes with a needle and forced sharpened matchsticks into the holes to enlarge them. It hurt, but, I cried silently. Now, I was one of them, and Ita wouldn't be able to do anything any more but accept me. I didn't let Nana Loling know of my plan because she would object to it. She would do everything to keep me, even call the police. She knew also that it was impossible for me to reach our place. Only Ita Magnum and a selected few knew the way. But I slipped out of the house one night a week ago, anyway. It was the full moon and I ran and ran. Away from Santa Barbara. When daylight came, I knew that I was lost. Yet I walked on and on. Maybe far ahead was Subangdaku, I amused myself. It was my only hope. I didn’t want to go Santa Barbara but Ita Magdum forced me to go there. Literary Focus: First Person Point of ViewNotes 301 ' 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ' ! 1 1 1 1 1 ' 1 ! 1 1 1 1 I 1 ' ' 1 I 1 I! 1 1 I ! 1 ! 1 ' 1 1 I ' 1 ' 1 1 I 1 Name Date Grade & Section Shaping Interpretations: Task 1. Checking Vocabulary Read how the italicized words below are used in the story. Determine the meaning of these words by answering YES or NO to the following questions. 1. Would an idle man be always busy? When a journey is hazardous, is it dangerous? Is a glamorous person beautiful and attractive? mo} When you win a great prize, would you expect jubilation from your friends? Is an infidel a friend who shares the same faith with you? Would a person who muttered shout loud his words for everyone to hear? xo Is a person in agony happy and content? 8. Does a person who feels awkward feel comfortable and relaxed? 9. Isa person who languished about all day active and full of energy? 10. When a person is in unbearable conditions, is he in a state of pain and suffering? Task 2: Cause and Effect The chart below has two columns. The first column presents major events in the story “Tam one of the Mountain People”. In the second column, write the cause of these events. The first one is done for you. ng aking Junios nagba- basketball pa ba? | 1. Ita wanted him to learn the Christan 1 ve the whole tribe. 2. The boy became the laughingstock in the _ Christian school 3. He was always brought to the principal's | 3. office for disciplinary action 4. Ita brought the boy home to the green | 4. area for a visit 5, The boy made a dirty mark, abig cross, | 5. on the Magu’s bark. 6. The elders went to the Magu to offer | 6. sacrifices 31 Lesson 5 — UnitI | 21st CLP7. When Ita discovered that the boy had a tattoo carved on his chest, he whipped the boy father’s knowledge 8. The boy said that high school education | 8. was worthless 9, Isog told the boy that there was another | 9. massacre in Kapatagan. 10. ‘The boy decided to go home without his | 10. Task 3: Think, Pair, Share 1, Whois the narrator? Why does he refer to himself as “one of the mountain people”? 2. Discuss the reasons of Datu Magdum in wanting his son to study in a Christian school. Do you consider his reasons justifiable? 3. What was the conflict experienced by the narrator during his stay at Sta. Barbara? 4, When the narrator went home for a visit, what changes became evident in his beliefs and attitudes? Discuss how the tribe reacted to these changes. 5. Why did the narrator decide to go back home against his father’s will? Do ou agree with his decision? Why? Task 4: Reflection Essay on the Point of View Used Write a reflection paper discussing the conflict experienced by the boy in the story “I am one of the Mountain People’, Use the following guide questions to help you organize your essay: 1. What situation/problem of the Lumads is expressed by the following statements? I thought of nothing else for days but Isog’s angry words. My people! My people! They were being slaughtered like pigs while I did nothing but try to learn something I didn't want to learn. And I was ashamed of myself. 2. What is the boy’s feeling at this moment? Quote lines to support your answer. 3, Was Ita Magdum right in his desire to have the boy educated in a Christian school? Would it have been better if the story allowed the father to be the narrator instead of the boy? » .. Is the narration of the events of the story logical? Is the boy an effective narrator when recounting these events? 21st CLP | Unit! — Lesson 5 32 1 1 1 1 1 ' 1 1 1 I 1 t 1 1 ' 1 1 1 ' 1 1 ' 1 1 1 I ' ' P ! ‘ I 1 ' 1 1 1 1 I 1 ' I 1 ! I 1 1 is 1 I yLesson 6} The Conversion Approaching the Text: Analyze each of the pictures below. Unscramble the letters below to identify what these pictures have in common. NITARSFANOMRTO. Reading the Text: The Conversion by I. Neil C. Garcia J. Neil Garcia currently teaches creative writing and literature at the University of the Philippines, He has written several books and co-edited the bestselling Ladlad: Anthology of Philippine Gay Writing 1 and 2. Neil Garcia has won several awards for his poetry including the Palanca and the National Book Award.) It happened in a metal drum They put me there, my family ‘That loved me. The water Had been saved just for it, that day. The laundry lay caked and smelly In the flower-shaped basins, Dishes soiled with fat and swill Piled high in the sink, and grew flies. My cousins did not get washed that morning. Lost in masks of snot and dust, Their faces looked tired and resigned To the dirty lot of children All the neighbors gathered around our 33open-aired bathroom. Wives peered out from the upper floor of their houses into our yard, Father had arrived booming with cousins, my uncles. ‘They were big, strong men, my uncles. They turned the house inside-out Looking for me. Curled up in the deepest corner Of my dead mother’s cabinet, father found me. He dragged me down the stairs by the hair Into the waiting arms of my uncles. Because of modesty, I merely screamed and cried. ‘Their hands, swollen and black with hair, bore me Up in the air, and touched me. Into the cold Of the drum I slipped, the tingling ‘Too much to bear at times my knees _ Felt like they had turned into water. ‘Waves swirled up and down around me, my head Bobbing up and down. Father kept booming, Girl or boy. 1 thought about it and squealed, Girl. Water curled under my nose. When I rose the same two words from father. ‘The same girl kept sinking deeper, Breathing deeper in the churning void. In the end I had to say what they all ‘Wanted me to say. I had to bring down this diversion To its happy end, if only for the pot of rice Left burning in the kitchen. I had to stop Wearing my dead mother’s clothes. In the mirror [watched the holes on my ears grow smaller, Until they looked as if they had never heard Of rhinestones, nor felt their glassy weight. I should feel happy that 'm now Redeemed. And I do. Father died within five years I got my wife pregnant with the next,Our four children, all boys, “Are the joy of my manhood, my proof. Cousins who never shed their masks Play them for all their snot and grime. Another child is on the way. I have stopped caring what it will be. Water is still a problem and the drum Is still there, deep and rusty. ‘The bathroom has been roofed over with plastic. Scrubbed and clean, my wife knows I like things. She follows, though sometimes a pighead she is. It does not hurt to show who is the man. A woman needs some talking sense into. If not, Thit her in the mouth to learn her. Every time, swill drips from her shredded lips I drink with my uncles who all agree. They should because tonight I own their souls ‘And the bottles they nuzzle like their prides. While they boom and boom flies whirr Over their heads that grew them. Though nobody Remembers, I sometimes think of the girl Who drowned somewhere in a dream many dreams ago. Isee her at night with bubbles Springing like flowers from her nose. She is dying and before she sinks I try to touch Her open face. But the water learns ‘To heal itself and closes around her like a wound. I should feel sorry but I drown myself in gin before Ican. Better off dead, I say to myself And my family that loves me for my bitter breath, We die to rise to a better life.CEN Name Date Grade & Section Shaping Interpretations: Task 1: Checking Vocabulary Choose the word/phrase from the list that shows the meaning of the words in italics saved whirled stubborn dirt rolling emptiness cuddle stained nasal mucus cried watery mixture ____ Dishes soiled with fat and swill Lost in masks of snot and dust, Waves swirled up and down around me I thought about it and squealed, Girl. Breathing deeper in the churning void. Ishould feel happy that 'm now Redeemed __ though sometimes a pighead she is. Play them for all their snot and grime. e356 1 ST TOV ee 0. And the bottles they nuzzle like their prides. Task 2: Checking Comprehension 1. Describe the persona. Why did his father and uncles dunk him in a drum of water? 2. Why did the persona give in to this pressure and shout “gir!” 3, What “conversion” happened to the persona? How did he transform after giving up on the idea that he is a girl? 37 Lesson 6 — Unit! | 21st CLP4. How does the persona treat his wife? What is he trying to prove by these actions? 5. Do you think he regrets becoming a man? Why? Task 3: Creative Illustration Draw a symbol that would best describe the meaning of the poem. Task 4: Extending the Text: Log on to http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x1z39gw_sirena-with-lyrics-official- music-video-gloc-9-ft-ebe-dancel_music and watch a video of the song “Sirena” What differences in the journey of the persona can be seen in both texts? 21st CLP | Unit! - Lesson 6Unit Learning Outcome: Literary Analysis (Formalist Criticism) Write a literary analysis of a chosen poem or story in this unit using a Formalist perspective. Guidelines: 1, 3-5 pages 2. Double spaced, Arial Font, 12 pts. 3. Must incorporate the discussion of literary elements and how these elements helped in the forwarding of the text’s meaning. Evaluation: Literary Analy’ - “ 3 A B Rr fececr Pre Mae ea Analysis of | Only one ‘Two elements | Three elements | Four elements | Five or more thepoem’s | elements _| areincluded | of the poem are | of the clements ete Genes inthe includedin the | poemare | are very Discussion is | analysis, analysisand | substantially | substantially ot eubstantiat | Limited discussion is | analyzed analyzed | | discussion __ | less substantial | | of the role of | elements Content) | Nodiscussion | Limited Minimal Discussion | Discussion Substance | ofthe poems | Discussion | Discussion _| of the poems | of the poems Soe ofthe poems | ofthepoen’s | meaningis | meaning meaning meaning thorough | is very | thorough Organization | No Limited Minimal logical Vey logical of Ideas organization of | organization | organization of | organization | organization ideas ofideas | ideas of ideas. of ideas. Very coherent flow | coherent flow ofthoughts | of thoughts. | from one | paragraph to | thenext | | Student | | Average | | | 39 Lesson 6 - Unit! | 2Lelia SE TRADITION AND HISTORY SSF Learning Outcome: Prepare a multimedia presentation of the different periods in Philippine literature. At the end of the unit, the students are able to: i 2. wo Describe the different periods in Philippine literatures ‘Analyze the figures of speech and other literary elements and devices in the texts; Explain the socio-cultural contexts of the works; . Identify the social issues addressed in the texts; ‘Transform and extend creatively the literary texts to other artistic expression using multimedia aids. 41Lesson 1 | Summer Solstice Approaching the Text: Did you know? (a) June 24 is a Catholic holy day celebrating the feast of St. John the Baptist. What particular beliefs are associated with this day? (b) Summer solstice is that time of the year when the day is longer than the night. ‘What practices do you know are associated with this solstice? Reading the Text: The Summer Solstice by Nick Joaquin (Poet, fictionist, essayist, biographer, playwright, and National Artist, important figures in Philippine literature. His works present the diverse heritage of the Filipino people.) ick Joaquin is one of the most THE MORETAS WERE spending St. John’s Day with the children’s grandfather, whose feast day it was. Dofia Lupeng awoke feeling faint with the heat, a sound of screaming in her ears. In the dining room the three boys already attired in their holiday suits, were at breakfast, and came crowding around her, talking all at once. “How long you have slept, Mama!” “We thought you were never getting up!” “Do we leave at once, huh? Are we going now?” “Hush, hush I implore you! Now look: your father has a headache, and so have I. So be quiet this instant—or no one goes to Grandfather” ‘Though it was only seven by the clock the house was already a furnace, the windows dilating with the harsh light and the air already burning with the immense, intense fever of noon, She found the children’s nurse working in the kitchen. “And why is it you who are preparing breakfast? Where is Amada?” But without waiting for an answer she went to the backdoor and opened it, and the screaming in her cars became wild screaming in the stables across the yard. “Oh my God.” she groaned and, grasping her skirts, hurried across the yard. In the stables Entoy, the driver, apparently deaf to the screams, was hitching the pair of picbald ponies to the coach. 42“Not the closed coach, Entoy! ‘The open carriage!” shouted Dofta Lupeng as she came up. “But the dust, seftora—” “I know, but better to be dirty than to be boiled alive. And what ails your wife, eh? Have you been beating her again?” “Oh no, sefiora: I have not touched her” “Then why is she screaming? Is she ill?” “T do not think so. But how do I know? You can go and see for yourself, sefiora. She is up there” When Dofia Lupeng entered the room, the big half-naked woman sprawled across the bamboo bed stopped screaming. Dota Lupeng was shocked. “What is this Amada? Why are you still in bed at this hour? And in such a posture! Come, get up at once. You should be ashamed!” But the woman on the bed merely stared. Her sweat-beaded brows contracted, as if in an effort to understand. Then her face relax, her mouth sagged open humorously, and rolling over on her back and spreading out her big soft arms and legs, she began noiselessly quaking with laughter—the mute mirth jerking in her throat; the moist pile of her flesh quivering like brown jelly. Saliva dribbled from the corners of her mouth. Dona Lupeng blushed, looking around helplessly, and secing that Entoy had followed and was leaning in the doorway, watching stolidly, she blushed again. The room reeked hotly of intimate odors. She averted her eyes from the laughing woman on the bed, in whose nakedness she seemed so to participate that she was ashamed to look directly at the man in the doorway. “Tell me, Entoy: has she had been to the Tadtarin?” “Yes, sefora, Last night” “But I forbade her to go! And I forbade you to let her go!” “T-could do nothing” “Why, you beat her at the least pretext!” “But now I dare not touch her” “Oh, and why not?” “Ttis the day of St. John; the spirit is in her” “But, man?” “It is true, sefiora. The spirit is in her. She is the Tadtarin, She must do as she pleases, Otherwise, the grain would not grow, the trees would bear no fruit, the rivers would give no fish, and the animals would die” “Naku, I did no know your wife was so powerful, Entoy.” 4BRPE See ee “At such times she is not my wife: she is the wife of the river, she is the wife of the crocodile, she is the wife of the moon” “BUT HOW CAN they still believe such things?” demanded Dona Lupeng of her husband as they drave in the open carriage through the pastoral countryside that was the arrabal of Paco in the 1850's. Don Paeng darted a sidelong glance at his wife, by which he intimated that the subject was not a proper one for the children, who were sitting opposite, facing their parents, Don Paeng, drowsily stroking his moustaches, his eyes closed against the hot light, merely shrugged. “And you should have seen that Entoy,’ continued his wife. “You know how the brute treats her: she cannot say a word but he thrashes her. But this morning he stood as meek as a lamb while she screamed and screamed. He seemed actually in awe of her, do you know— actually afraid of her!” “Oh, look, boys—here comes the St. John!” cried Dofia Lupeng, and she sprang up in the swaying carriage, propping one hand on her husband’s shoulder wile the other she held up her silk parasol. And “Here come the men with their St. John!” cried voices up and down the countryside. People in wet clothes dripping with well-water, ditch-water and river-water came running across the hot woods and fields and meadows, brandishing cans of water, wetting each other uproariously, and shouting San Juan! San Juan! as they ran to meet the procession. Up the road, stirring a cloud of dust, and gaily be drenched by the crowds gathered along the wayside, a concourse of young men clad only in soggy trousers were carrying aloft an image of the Precursor. ‘Their teeth flashed white in their laughing faces and their hot bodies glowed crimson as they pranced past, shrouded in fiery dust, singing and shouting and waving their arms: the St. John riding swiftly above the sea of dark heads and glittering in the noon sun—a fine, blonde, heroic St. John: very male, very arrogant: the Lord of Summer indeed; the Lord of Light and Heat—erect and godly virile above the prone and female carth—while the worshippers danced and the dust thickened and the animals reared and roared and the merciless fires came raining down form the skies—the relentlessly upon field and river and town and winding road, and upon the joyous throng of young men against whose uproar a couple of seminarians in muddy cassocks vainly intoned the hymn of the noon god: That we, thy servants, in chorus May praise thee, our tongues restore us... But Dofia Lupeng, standing in the stopped carriage, looking very young and elegant in her white frock, under the twirling parasol, stared down on the passing male horde with increasing annoyance. The insolent man-smell of their bodies rose all about her—wave upon wave of it—enveloping her, assaulting her senses, till she felt faint with it and pressed a handkerchief to her nose. And as she glanced at her husband and saw with what a smug smile he was watching the revelers, her annoyance deepened. When he bade her sit down 44all eyes were turned on her, she pretended not to hear; stood up even straighter, as “Bm defy those rude creatures flaunting their manhood in the sun. And she wondered peevishly what the braggarts were being so cocky about? For this arrogance, this pride, this bluff male health of theirs was (she told herself) founded on the impregnable virtue of generations of good women. The boobies were so sure of themselves because they had always been sure of their wives, “All the sisters being virtuous, all the brothers are brave,” thought Dofia Lupeng, with a bitterness that rather surprised her. Women had built it up: this poise of the male. Ah, and women could destroy it, too! She recalled, vindictively, this morning's scene at the stables: Amada naked and screaming in bed whiled from the doorway her lord and master looked on in meek silence. And was it not the mystery of a woman in her flowers that had restored the tongue of that old Hebrew prophet? “Look, Lupeng, they have all passed now” Don Paeng was saying, “Do you mean to stand all the way?” She looked around in surprise and hastily sat down. The children tittered, an’ the carriage started. “Has the heat gone to your head, woman?” asked Don Paeng, smiling. The children burst frankly into laughter. ‘Their mother colored and hung her head. She was beginning to feel ashamed of the thoughts that had filled her mind. They seemed improper—almost obscene—and the discovery of such depths of wickedness in herself appalled her. She moved closer to her husband to share the parasol with him. “And did you see our young cousin Guido?” he asked. “Oh, was he in that crowd?” “A European education does not seem to have spoiled his taste for country pleasures.” “I did not see him” “He waved and waved” “The poor boy. He will feel hurt. But truly, Paeng. I did not see him? “Well, that is always a woman's privilege” BUT WHEN THAT afternoon, at the grandfather's, the young Guido presented himself, properly attired and brushed and scented, Dofta Lupeng was so charming and gracious with him that he was enchanted and gazed after her all afternoon with enamored eyes. This was the time when our young men were all going to Europe and bringing back with them, not the Age of Victoria, but the Age of Byron. The young Guido knew nothing of Darwin and evolution; he knew everything about Napoleon and the Revolution. When Dona Lupeng expressed surprise at his presence that morning in the St. John’s ae he laughed in her face. 45 ———————————— “But I adore these old fiestas of ours! They are so romantic! Last night, do you know, we walked all the way through the woods, I and some boys, to see the procession of the Tadtarin” “and was that romantic too?” asked Dofia Lupeng. “Tt was weird. It made my flesh crawl. All those women in such a mystic frenzy! And she who was the Tadtarin last night—she was a figure right out of a flamenco!” “T fear to disenchant you, Guido—but that woman happens to be our cook” “She is beautiful” “Our Amada beautiful? But she is old and fat!” “She is beautiful—as that old tree you are leaning on is beautiful,” calmly insisted the young man, mocking her with his eyes. ‘They were out in the buzzing orchard, among the ripe mangoes; Dofta Lupeng seated on the grass, her legs tucked beneath her, and the young man sprawled flat on his belly, gazing up at her, his face moist with sweat. The children were chasing dragonflies. ‘The sun stood still in the west. The long day refused to end. From the house came the sudden roaring laughter of the men playing cards. “Beautiful! Romantic! Adorable! Are those the only words you learned in Europe?” cried Doita Lupeng, feeling very annoyed with this young man whose eyes adored her one moment and mocked her the next. “Ah, Ialso learned to open my eyes over there—to see the holiness and the mystery of what is vulgar” “And what is so holy and mysterious about—about the Tadtarin, for instance?” “J do not know, I can only feel it. And it frightens me. Those rituals come to us from the earliest dawn of the world. And the dominant figure is not the male but the female” “But they are in honor of St. John” - “What has your St. John to do with them? Those women worship a more ancient lord. Why, do you know that no man may join those rites unless he first puts on some article of women’s apparel and—” “And what did you put on, Guido?” “How sharp you are! Oh, I made such love to a toothless old hag there that she pulled off her stocking for me. And I pulled it on, over my arm, like a glove. How your husband would have despised me!” “But what on earth does it mean?” “[ think it is to remind us men that once upon a time you women were supreme and we men were the slaves” “But surely there have always been kings?” “Oh, no. The queen came before the king, and the priestess before the priest, and the moon before the sun.” 46“The moon?” “who is the Lord of the women” “Why?” “Because the tides of women, like the tides of the sea, are tides of the moon. Because the first blood -But what is the matter, Lupe? Oh, have I offended you?” “Is this how they talk to decent women in Europe?” “They do not talk to women, they pray to them—as men did in the dawn of the world” “Oh, you are mad! mad!” “Why are you so afraid, Lupe?” “afraid? And of whom? My dear boy, you still have your mother's milk in your mouth. Ionly wish you to remember that I am a married woman? “I remember that you are a woman, yes. A beautiful woman, And why not? Did ygu turn into some dreadful monster when you married? Did you stop being a woman? Did you stop being beautiful? Then why should my eyes not tell you what you are—just because you are married?” “Ah, this is too much now!” cried Dofia Lupeng, and she rose to her feet. “Do not go, | implore you! Have pity on me!” “No more of your comedy, Guido! And besides—where have those children gone to! I must go after them,” As she lifted her skirts to walk away, the young man, propping up his elbows, dragged himself forward on the ground and solemnly kissed the tips of her shoes. She stared down in sudden horror, transfixed—and he felt her violent shudder. She backed away slowly, still staring; then turned and fled toward the house. ON THE WAY home that evening Don Paeng noticed that his wife was in a mood. They were alone in the carriage: the children were staying overnight at their grandfather's. The heat had not subsided. It was heat without gradations: that knew no twilights and no dawns; that was still there, after the sun had set; that would be there already, before the sun had risen, “Has young Guido been annoying you?” asked Don Paeng. “Yes! All afternoon” “These young men today—what a disgrace they are! I felt embarrassed as a man to see him following you about with those eyes of a whipped dog” She glanced at him coldly. “And was that all you felt, Pang? embarrassed—as a man?” “A good husband has constant confidence in the good sense of his wife,’ he pronounced grandly, and smiled at her. - But she drew away; huddled herself in the other corner. “He kissed my feet,’ she told him disdainfully, her eyes on his face. 47He frowned and made a gesture of distaste. “Do you see? They have the instinets, the style of the canalla! To kiss a woman's feet, to follow her like a dog, to adore her like a slave—” “Js it so shameful for a man to adore women?” “A. gentleman loves and respects Woman. The cads and lunatics—they ‘adore’ the women? “But maybe we do not want to be loved and respected—but to be adored” But when they reached home she did not lie down but wandered listlessly through the empty house. When Don Paeng, having bathed and changed, came down from the bedroom, he found her in the dark parlour seated at the harp and plucking outa tune, still in her white frock and shoes. “How can you bear those hot clothes, Lupeng? And why the darkness? Order someone to bring light in here” “There is no one, they have all gone to see the Tadtarin” “A pack of loafers we are feeding!” She had risen and gone to the window. He approached and stood behind her, grasped her elbows and, stooping, kissed the nape of her neck. But she stood still, not responding, and he released her sulkily. She turned around to face him. “Listen, Paeng, I want to see it, too. The Tadtarin, I mean. I have not seen it since I was alittle girl. And tonight is the last night” “You must be crazy! Only low people go there. And I thought you had a headache?” He was still sulking, “But I want to go! My head aches worse in the house, For a favor, Paeng” “J told you: No! go and take those clothes off. But, woman, whatever has got into you!” he strode off to the table, opened the box of cigars, took one, banged the lid shut, bit off an end of the cigar, and glared about for a light. She was still standing by the window and her chin was up. “Very well, if you do want to come, do not come—but I am going” “[ warn you, Lupe: do not provoke me!” “1 will go with Amada. Entoy can take us. You cannot forbid me, Paeng. There is nothing wrong with it. Tam not a child? But standing very straight in her white frock, her eyes shining in the dark and her chin thrust up, she looked so young, so fragile, that his heart was touched, He sighed, smiled ruefully, and shrugged his shoulders. “Yes, the heat has touched you in the head, Lupeng. And since you are so set on it— very well, let us go. Come, have the coach ordered!” 48THE CULT OF the Tadtarin is celebrated on three days: the feast of St. John and the two preceding days. On the first night, a young girl heads the procession; on the second, a mature woman; and on the third, a very old woman who dies and comes to life again. In these processions, as in those of Pakil and Obando, everyone dances. Around the tiny plaza in front of the barrio chapel, quite a stream of carriages was flowing leisurely. ‘The Moretas were constantly being hailed from the other vehicles. The plaza itself and the sidewalks were filled with chattering, strolling, profusely sweating people. More people were crowded on the balconies and windows of the houses. The moon had not yet risen; the black night smoldered; in the windless sky the lightning’s abruptly branching fire seemed the nerves of the tortured air made visible. “Here they come now!” cried the people on the balconies, And “Here come the women with their St. John!” cried the people on the sidewalks, surging forth on the street. ‘The carriages halted and their occupants descended. The plaza rang with the shouts of people and the neighing of horses—and with another keener sound: a sound as of sea-waves steadily rolling nearer. e The crowd parted, and up the street came the prancing, screaming, writhing women, their eyes wild, black shawls flying around their shoulders, and their long hair streaming and covered with leaves and flowers. But the Tadtarin, a small old woman with white hair, walked with calm dignity in the midst of the female tumult, a wand in one hand, a bunch of seedling in the other. Behind her, a group of girls bore aloft a little black image of the Baptist—a crude, primitive, grotesque image, its big-eyed head too big for its puny naked torso, bobbing and swaying above the hysterical female horde and looking at once so comical and so pathetic that Don Paeng, watching with his wife on the sidewalk, was outraged. The image seemed to be crying for help, to be struggling to escape—a St. John indeed in the hands of the Herodias; a doomed captive these witches were subjecting first to their derision; a gross and brutal caricature of his sex. Don Paeng flushed hotly: he felt that all those women had personally insulted him. He turned to his wife, to take her away—but she was watching greedily, taut and breathless, her head thrust forward and her eyes bulging, the tecth bared in the slack mouth, and the sweat gleaning on her face, Don Paeng was horrified. He grasped her arm—but just then a flash of lightning blazed and the screaming women fell silent: the Tadtarin was about to die. ‘The old woman closed her eyes and bowed her head and sank slowly to her knees. A pallet was brought and set on the ground and she was laid in it and her face covered with a shroud, Her hands still clutched the wand and the seedlings. The women drew away, leaving her in a cleared space. They covered their heads with their black shawls and began wailing softly, unhumanly—a hushed, animal keening. Overhead the sky was brightening, silver light defined the rooftops, When the moon rose and flooded with hot brilliance the moveless crowded square, the black-shawled women stopped wailing and a girl approached and unshrouded the Tadtarin, who opened her eyes and sat up, her face lifted to the moonlight. She rose to her feet and extended the wand and the seedlings and the women joined in a mighty shout, They pulled off and waved their shawls and whirled and began dancing again—laughing and dancing with such joyous * exciting abandon that the people in the square and on the sidewalk, and even those on the 49balconies, were soon laughing and dancing, too. Girls broke away from their parents and wives from their husbands to join in the orgy. “Come, let us go now? said Don Paeng to his wife. She was shaking with fascination; tears trembled on her lashes; but she nodded meekly and allowed herself to be led away. But suddenly she pulled free from his grasp, darted off, and ran into the crowd of dancing women, She flung her hands to her hair and whirled and her hair came undone. Then, planting her arms akimbo, she began to trip a nimble measure, an indistinctive folk-movement. She tossed her head back and her arched throat bloomed whitely. Her eyes brimmed with moonlight, and her mouth with laughter. Don Paeng ran after her, shouting her name, but she laughed and shook her head and darted deeper into the dense maze of procession, which was moving again, towards the chapel. He followed her, shouting; she eluded him, laughing—and through the thick of the female horde they lost and found and lost each other again—she, dancing and he pursuing— till, carried along by the tide, they were both swallowed up into the hot, packed, turbulent darkness of the chapel. Inside poured the entire procession, and Don Paeng, finding himself trapped tight among milling female bodies, struggled with sudden panic to fight his way out. Angry voices rose all about him in the stifling darkness. “Hoy you are crushing my feet!” “and let go of my shawl, my shawl!” “Stop pushing, shameless one, or I kick you!” “Let me pass, let me pass, you harlots!” cried Don Paeng. “Abah, it isa man!” “How dare he come in here?” “Break his head!” “Throw the animal out!” “Throw him out! Throw him out!” shrieked the voices, and Don Paeng found himself surrounded by a swarm of gleaming eyes. Terror possessed him and he struck out savagely with both fists, with all his strength— but they closed in as savagely: solid walls of flesh that crushed upon him and pinned his arms helpless, while unseen hands struck and struck his face, and ravaged his hair and clothes, and clawed at his flesh, as—kicked and buffeted, his eyes blind and his torn mouth salty with blood—he was pushed down, down to his knees, and half-shoyed, half-dragged to the doorway and rolled out to the street. He picked himself up at once and walked away with a dignity that forbade the crowd gathered outside to laugh or to pity. Entoy came running to meet him, “But what has happened to you, Don Paeng?” “Nothing. Where is the coach?” 50“Just over there, sir. But you are wounded in the face!” “No, these are only scratches, Go and get the seora. We are going home” When she entered the coach and saw his bruised face and torn clothing, she smiled coolly, “What a sight you are, man! What have you done with yourself?” ‘And when he did not answer: “Why, have they pulled outhis tonguetoo?” she wondered aloud. AND WHEN THEY are home and stood facing each other in the bedroom, she was still as. light-hearted. “What are you going to do, Rafael?” “Lam going to give you a whipping” “But why?” “Because you have behaved tonight like a lewd woman” “How I behaved tonight is what I am. If you call that lewd, then I was always a lewd woman and a whipping will not change me—though you whipped me till I died” “Lwant this madness to die in you” “No, you want me to pay for your bruises.” He flushed darkly. “How can you say that, Lupe?” “Because itis true. You have been whipped by the women and now you think to avenge yourself by whipping me” His shoulders sagged and his face dulled. “If you can think that of me—” “You could think me a lewd woman!” “Oh, how do I know what to think of you? I was sure I knew you as | knew myself, But now you are as distant and strange to me asa female Turk in Africa” “Yet you would dare whip me—” “Because I love you, because I respect you” “And because if you ceased to respect me you would cease to respect yourself?” “Ah, I did not say that!” “Then why not say it? It is true. And you want to say it, you want to say it!” But he struggled against her power. “Why should I want to?” he demanded peevishly. “Because, either you must say it—or you must whip me,’ she taunted, Her eyes were upon him and the shameful fear that had unmanned him in the dark chapel possessed him again. His legs had turned to water; it was a monstrous agony to ” remain standing.But she was waiting for him to speak, forcing him to speak. “No, I cannot whip you!” he confessed miserably. “Then say it! Say it!” she cried, pounding her clenched fists together, “Why suffer and suffér? And in the end you would only submit” But he still struggled stubbornly. “Is it not enough that you have me helpless? Is it not enough that I feel what you want me feel?” But she shook her head furiously, “Until you have said to me, there can be no peace between us?” He was exhausted at last; he sank heavily to his knees, breathing hard and streaming with sweat, his fine body curiously diminished now in its ravaged apparel. “Ladore you, Lupe,’ he said tonelessly. She strained forward avidly, “What? What did you say?” she screamed. And he, in his dead voice: “That I adore you. That | adore you. That I worship you. That the air you breathe and the ground you tread is so holy to me. That I am your dog, your slave...” But it was still not enough. Her fists were still clenched, and she cried: “Then come, crawl on the floor, and kiss my feet!” Without moment’ hesitation, he sprawled down flat and, working his arms and legs, gaspingly clawed his way across the floor, like a great agonized lizard, the woman steadily backing eway as he approached, her eyes watching him avidly, her nostrils dilating, till behind her loomed the open window, the huge glittering moon, the rapid flashes of lightning. she stopped, panting, and leaned against the sill. He lay exhausted at her feet, his face flat on the floor. She raised her skirts and contemptuously thrust out a naked foot. He lifted his dripping face and touched his bruised lips to her toes; lifted his hands and grasped the white foot and kiss it savagely—kissed the step, the sole, the frail ankle—while she bit her lips and clutched in pain at the whole windowsill her body and her loose hair streaming out the window— streaming fluid and black in the white night where the huge moon glowed like a sun and the dry air flamed into lightning and the pure heat burned with the immense intense fever of noon. 52Literary Focus: Pre-colonial Philippines ‘The setting of “The Summer Solstice” is during the American occupation of the Philippines, But although it reflects new values and practices influenced by the Americans, the story portrays indigenous practices and beliefs that have persisted even until the modern times. These superstitious beliefs (as they are now called) are rooted in ancient traditions and values that have been the subject of the literature of Pre-colonial Philippines. ‘The Pre-colonial period in Philippine literature refers to the years before the 5 of the Spaniards. The works produced during this period consisted mainly of epics, myths, legends tales, songs, riddles and proverbs that are now windows to a past with no written records we can study (Lumbera, 1982). These works form part of our heritage from indigenous cultures that survived the ynization of another power, either through active resistance or through the inaccessibility of their settlements. Before the coming of the first colonizer, the first Filipinos have already luced a rich body of literature that was largely oral. As literary w created in i where the resources for economic survival were communally d, their oral literature bore the marks of the community. The subject matter was the common, day to day experience of the people, reflecting their beliefs and worldviews. 53NotesName Date Grade & Section Shaping Interpretations: Task 1: Describing Characters Determine the character described by the statements below. Choose your answer from the boxed options ‘A. Dona Lupe A, Amada B. Don Paeng B, Entoy C. Guido C. Women from the procession 1. You know how the brute treats her: she cannot say a word but he thrashes her. But this morning he stood as meekas a lamb while she screamed and screamed. He seemed actually in awe of her, do you know—actually afraid of her!” Nv ‘What is this? You have not cooked breakfast yet. And you're still in bed at this hour? And in such a posture! Come, get up at once. You should be ashamed! y . These young men today—what a disgrace they are! | felt embarrassed as a man to see him following you about with those eyes of a whipped dog. > 1 1 1 1 \ 1 1 1 1 | | \ \ i 1 1 1 1 ! 1 1 1 1 ' ' 1 |. She wondered peevishly what the braggarts were being so cocky about? For 1 this arrogance, this pride, this bluff male health of theirs was founded on the I impregnable virtue of generations of good women. Women had built it up: ' this poise of the male. Ah, and women could destroy it, too! 1 ' ' 1 1 1 1 ! i 1 i ' i ' i i 1 ! ' v You must be crazy! Only low people go to the Tatarin. You cannot go. I warn you, Lupe; do not provoke me, ‘The heat has indeed touched your head. 6. 1am going to give you a whipping. Because you have behaved tonight like a lewd woman. 7. Abah, it isa man! How dare he come here. Break his head! Throw the animal out! 8. But I adore these old fiestas of ours! They are so romantic! Last night, do you know, we walked all the way through the woods, I and some boys, to see the procession of the Tadtarin. It was weird. It made my flesh crawl. All those women in such a mystic frenzy! And she who was the Tadtarin last night— she was a figure right out of a flamenco!” © He was horrified. The little black, grotesque image of the Baptist seemed to be crying for help, struggling to escape the horde of wild women. He flushed hotly, feeling that all those women had personally insulted him. 10. Those rituals come to us from the earliest dawn of the world, And the dominant figure is not the male but the female. It has nothing to do with oo Lesson 1 — Unit Il | 21st CLPJohn the Baptist! Those women worship a more ancient lord. I had to put on women’s apparel just to join the ritual. Task 2: Differentiate the two processions/rituals in the story by completing the chart below. LEC | Date / Season of year Participants St. John statue Actions of the participants Task 3: Tracing Our Cultural Heritage Collect folk literature from your region and Identify indigenous beliefs and practices reflected in these literary works. Submit your output as a power point presentation. Task 4: Connecting Intertextually Research on the drama version of this play as well as its movie adaptation, both titled Tatarin. What differences in the storyline can be seen in these different versions? 21st CLP | Unit ll — Lesson 1 56 ¥Lesson 2 | Soledad Approaching the Text: Soledad is a Spanish word which comes from the root word “sole” meaning, one or alone. Read the poem below to discover why Soledad, its subject, ended in isolation. Reading the Text: Soledad by Angela Manalang Gloria It was a sacrilege, the neighbors cried, “The way she shattered every mullioned pane To let a firebrand in. They tried in vain To understand how one so carved from pride And glassed in dream could have so flung aside Her graven days, or why she dared profane The bread and wine of life for some insane Moment with him. The scandal never died. But no one guessed that loveliness would claim Her soul’s cathedral burned by his desires Or that he left her aureoled in flame... And seeing nothing but her blackened spires, The town condemned this girl who loved too well and found her heaven in the depths of hell.1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 ! 1 1 | 1 1 I I I 1 1 ! ! 1 1 I 1 1 i ' I 1 1 ' ! 1 I 1 1 1 ' 1 1 1 Name Grade & Section Shaping Interpretations: Se ee Date Task 1: Matching Figurative Expressions Match the figurative lines in column A with their meaning in column B. 1. It was a Sacrilege lioned pane 3. Leta Firebrand in . Glassed in dream 6. Flung aside her shattered every mul- 4. Carved from pride 5. (a) allow a troublemaker (b) body asa holy place (©) surrounded by a halo (d) burned top of a building (e) broke glass panes (f) disrespect graven days 7. Profane the bread and wine of life 8. Her Soul’s cathedral (g) advantaged position (h) throw away serious, dignified ways 9, Aureoled in flame (i) protected, prized 10. Blackened spires (j) blaspheme the commandments Task 2. Determi Determine how the following poetic line/s are associated with the Christian Church. Explain the religious or spiritual associations of these words. The first one is done for you. ing Religious Implications eee istian di Going against ine or dogma | Mullioned pane | Cathedral | Bread and wine Pex Aureoled in flame Task 3: Writing Creatively The setting of Soledad’s story was during the Spanish period when Catholic and cultural norms were the guidelines of the people’s worldviews and lifestyles. Could this historical context have affected the way Soledad acted and the reactions of her neighbours to her “sin”? Write a short story that explains the reasons why Soledad went against societal norms to have an affair and who this man could have been, Create your own ending for her story which may not be the same as the one portrayed in the poem. 59 Lesson 2 — Unit Il | 21st CLPNotes 60 21st CLP | Unit Il — Lesson 2Lesson 3 | Sapay Koma Approaching the Text: Would you marry someone with a different culture, religion or status in life? What would be the difficulties that you would have to undergo if you risk this kind of relationship? Read the story below and identify certain beliefs and practices that may have factored in the result of the persona’s relationship with her husband. Reading the Text: Sapay Koma by Jhoanna lynn Cruz (Jhoanna Lynn Cruz is currently a professor of the University of the Philippines - Mindanao. “Sapay Koma” won 3rd prize in the Essay in English category of the 2008 Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature.) “I looked at Maria and she was lovely. She was tall...and in the darkened hall the fragrance of her was like a morning when papayas are in bloom.” —Manuel Arguilla On our first Valentine as a couple, he gave me a bowl of white nondescript flowers. They had a distinctly sweet but faint scent. I had never been a fan of Valentine's Day nor of love like a red, red rose; but that day, I became a believer. He told me they were papaya blossoms from his mother’s garden. At that moment, I knew I would one day marry him. We had started dating only three months ago, but I knew I would be Maria to his Leon. Why, he even had a younger brother the same age as Baldo! And even though they didn't live in Nagrebcan nor owned a carabao, the town of Itogon, Benguet was remote enough for me. I have always enjoyed teaching the Arguilla story for its subversive take on the role that one’s family plays in a marriage; but having been born and raised in Pasay City, I had no idea what papaya blossoms smelled like. I imagined that my new boyfriend had read the story in his Philippine literature class and meant for me to recognize his gift as an allusion In fact, [ imagined we would defy societal norms and prove that love conquers all. Instead of a “theme song,” our relationship had a story to live up to. It was a disaster waiting to happen. In the story, Leon brings his city-girl wife, Maria, home to meet his parents for the first time. His surly father orchestrates several tests of Maria's suitability through Leon's younger brother Baldo, who is quickly won over by her papaya blossom scent. “The first time I met his parents was on the wedding day of his eldest brother. By then, we had been seeing each other discreetly for seven months, somehow knowing that no one would approve of our relationship. In the midst of the beating of gongs and best wishes, his 61Kankanaey father only wanted to know two things about me: where I was from and what language I spoke. I gave the wrong answer on both points. I was a Manilena and I couldn't speak Ilocano yet, having only recently moved to Baguio City to rebuild my life after becoming disillusioned with the institution that had once nurtured my desire to excel. But no love lost, I was only their sor’s ‘gayyem” (friend), after all. It didn't help that I was wearing a leopard print spaghetti-strapped dress, which exposed the tattoo on my back. I reasoned that the Cordillera culture has a long tradition of body art; so they should appreciate the significance of mine, None of us knew at that time that I was already carrying a half-Igorot child in my womb (which, I imagined, somehow made me an acceptable quarter-Igorot for the nonce). Against better judgment, we decided to get married. We were under the influence of hormones, of pregnancy, of the Catholic church, of Manuel Arguilla. We would have gotten 2 quickie secret wedding if he were old enough, or I, wais enough; but by law we needed his parents’ consent. Which they refused to give. For perfectly good reasons. ‘They could have said, “You shouldn't marry because he is too young” (and you are ten years older). Or “You shouldn’t marry because he is still studying” (and you were even his teacher), Or “You shouldn't marry because he has a calling” (and you are snatching him from God). But instead his mother said, “We can't give you permission because his brother had just gotten married. In the theology of the Cordilleras, if siblings marry within the same year, one of the marriages will fail. The community will blame us if we allow you to marry.” So I called my mother, who promptly came to my rescue, writing them a demand letter based on a fallacy: “If your child were the woman in this situation, you would rush to marry them!” I'm sure she was so eager to get me married off because she knew it was a fluke. What was most ridiculous (though I refused to see it at that time), was that I was a self- proclaimed lesbian feminist. Despite all the tragic relationships I had had with women, I still believed that it was worth fighting for the right of a woman to love another woman, What business did I have getting married to a very young man? And for all the wrong reasons. Must have been oxytocin overdose sponsored by the baby in my womb. Or a planetary alignment exerting mysterious forces on my consciousness. Or, gasp—Love! Whatever it was, it came to pass. My mother didn’t have to bring my grandfather's rifle, But I had to do it all on my own: filing the license, finding the Judge, buying the rings, reserving a restaurant, paying for everything. It was a good thing his parents didn’t allow us to tell anybody about the marriage—that way I didn’t have to invite anyone— which lessened my expenses. I had to understand that they had spent all their savings for his brother's recent wedding, where they had butchered eight pigs for a traditional Igorot wedding feast. And after all, lest we forget, we were getting married against their will. But hey, there they were, on hand to sign the marriage certificate in the sala of the Honorable Judge Fernando Cabato of La Trinidad, Benguet. The ceremony itself was quick—but peppered with omens. First, when the court clerk asked for my mother-in-law's name, I told her “Constancia’—because I figured that was where her nickname “Connie” came from. When I asked my nervous groom, he agreed. When the Judge confirmed the information, “Constancia” objected because her name is 62