Week 5

CS HUM G111: 21st Century literature from the Philippines and the world

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 Ave Maria College
SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL DEPARTMENT
School ID No. 402686 Gov’t Permit No. 0059 s. 2015

CS HUM G111: 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World

To my students:

You are now on the 5th week of this course. Before you start working on the lessons for this
week make sure that you have submitted all previous out puts from week 4.
For this week you will learn Lessons 9 and 10. Read the learning materials below then answer
the Weekly Exam 5 and do Activity 5.
At the end of this week, you should be able to.
 answer correctly at least 85% of the questions in the weekly exam and;
 draw a Story Board.

Lesson 9: Appreciating Philippine Folktales

A. The Creation Story

Tagalog Version

When the world first began there was no land, but only the sea and the sky, and between them
was a kite (a bird something like a hawk). One day the bird which had nowhere to light grew tired of
flying about, so she stirred up the sea until it threw its waters against the sky. The sky in order to restrain
the sea, showered upon it many islands until it could no longer rise, but ran back and forth. Then the sky
ordered the kite to light on one of the islands to build her nest, and to leave the sea and the sky in peace.
Now at this time, the land breeze and the sea breeze were married, and they had a child which
was a bamboo. One day when this bamboo was floating about on the water, it struck the feet of the kite
which was on the beach. The bird, angry that anything should strike it, pecked at the bamboo, and out of
one section came a man and from the other a woman.
Then the earthquake called on all the birds and fish to see what should be done with these two,
and it was decided that they should marry. Many children were born to the couple, and from them came
all the different races of people.
After a while, the parents grew very tired of having so many idle and useless children around,
and they wished to be rid of them, but they knew of no place to send them to. Time went on and the
children became so numerous that the parents enjoyed no peace. One day, in desperation, the father
seized a stick and began beating them on all sides.
This so frightened the children that they fled in different directions, seeking hidden rooms in the
house -- some concealed themselves in the walls, some ran outside while others hid in the fireplace, and
several fled to the sea.
Now It happened that those who went into the hidden rooms of the house later became the lets of
the islands and those who concealed themselves in the walls became slaves. Those an outside were free
men and those who hid in the fireplace became negroes; while those to the sea were gone many years,
and when their children came back, they were the white people.

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 Igorot Version

In the beginning, there were no people on the earth. Lumawig, the Great Spirit, came down from
the sky and cut many reeds, He divided these pairs which he placed in different parts of the world, and
then he said to them, "You must speak.”
Immediately the reeds became people, and in each place was a man and a woman who could
could talk, but the language of each couple differed from that of the others.
Then Lumawig commanded each man and woman to marry, which they did. By and by there
were many children, all speaking the same language as their parents. These, in turn, married and had
many children. In this way there came to be many people on the earth.
Now Lumawig saw that there were several things which the people on the earth needed to use, so
he set to work to supply them. He created salt, and told the inhabitants of one place to boil it down and
sell it to their neighbors. But these people could not understand the directions of the Great Spirit, and the
next time he visited them, they had not touched the salt.
Then he took it away from them and gave it to the people of a place called Mayinit. These did as
he directed, and because of this he told them that they should always be owners of the salt, and that the
other peoples must buy them.
Then Lumawig went to the people of Bontoc and told them to get clay and make pots. They got
the clay, but they did not understand the molding, and the jars were not well shaped. Because of their
failure, Lumawig told them that they would always have to buy their jars, and he removed the pottery to
Samoki. When he told the people there what to do, they did just as he said, and their jars were well
shaped and beautiful. Then the Great Spirit saw that they were fit owners of the pottery, and he told
them that they should always make many jars to sell
In this way, Lumawig taught the people and brought to them all the things which have now.

***

Bilaan (Mindanao)

In the very beginning there lived a being so large that he cannot be compared with any known
thing. His name was Melu, and when he sat on the clouds, which were his home, he occupied all the
space above. His teeth were pure gold, and because he was very cleanly and continually rubbed himself
with his hands, his skin became pure white. The dead skin which he rubbed off his body was placed on
one side in a pile, and by and by this pile became so large that he was annoyed and set himself to
consider what he could do with it.
Finally, Melu decided to make the earth; so he worked very hard in putting the dead skin into
shape, and when it was finished he was so pleased with it that he determined to make two beings like
himself, though smaller, to live on it.
Taking the remnants of the material left after making the earth he fashioned two men, but just as
they were all finished except their noses, Tau Tana from below the earth appeared and wanted to help
him.
Melu did not wish any assistance, and a great argument ensued. Tau Tana finally won his point
and made the noses which he placed on the people upside down. When all was finished, Melu and Tau
Tana whipped the forms until they moved. Then Melu went to his home above the clouds, and Tau Tana
returned to his place below the earth.

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 All went well until one day a great rain came, and the people on the earth nearly drowned from
the water which ran off their heads into their noses. Melu, from his place on the clouds, saw their
danger, and he came quickly to earth and saved their lives by turning their noses the other side up.
The people were very grateful to him and promised to do anything he should ask for them.
Before he left for the sky, they told him that they were very unhappy living on the great earth all alone,
so he told them to save all the hair from their heads and the dry skin from their bodies and the next time
he came he would make them some companions. And in this way there came to be a great many people
on the earth.

Keep in Mind:

The creation story has three versions, namely: Tagalog, Igorot, and Bilaan.

B. The Presidente Who Had Horns (Ilocano)

Once there was a presidente who was very unjust to his people, and one day he became so angry
that he wished he had horns so that he might frighten them. No sooner had he made this rash wish, than
horns began to grow on his head. He sent for a barber who came to his house to cut his hair, and as he
worked the presidente asked: "What do you see on my head?"
"I see nothing," answered the barber; for although he could see the horns plainly, he was afraid to say so.
Soon, however, the presidente put up his hands and felt the horns, and then when he inquired
again the barber told him that he had two horns.
"If you tell anyone what you have seen, you shall be hanged," said the presidente as the barber started
away, and he was greatly frightened.
When he reached home, the barber did not intend to tell anyone, for he was afraid; but as he thought of
his secret more and more, the desire to tell someone became so strong that he knew he could not keep it.
Finally, he went to the field and dug a hole under some bamboo, and when the hole was large enough,
he crawled in and whispered that the presidente had horns. He then climbed out, filled up the hole, and
went home.
By and by some people came along the road on their way to market, and as they passed the
bamboo they stopped in amazement, for surely a voice came from the trees, and it said that he the
presidente had horns. These people hastened to market and told what they had heard, and the people
there went to the bamboo to listen to the strange voice. They informed others, and the news had spread
all over the town. The councilmen were told, and they, too, went to the bamboo. When they had heard
the voice, they ran to the house of the president. But his wife said that he was ill and they could not see
him.
By this time the horns had grown until they were one foot in length, and the president was so
ashamed that he bade his wife tell the people that he could not talk. She told this to the councilmen when
they came on the following day, but they replied that they must see him, for they had heard that he had
horns, and if this were true, he had no right to govern the people.
She refused to let them in, so they broke down the door. They saw the horns on the head of
presidente and killed him. For, they said, he was no better than an animal.

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 Keep in Mind:
A true leader must be just and true to his people. He should not frighten his people but
instead, treat them well. Otherwise, he is no better than an animal.

Lesson 10: Reading and Understanding Philippine Short Stories

A. Wedding Dance by Amador Daguio

Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the high threshold.
Clinging to the log, he lifted himself with one bound that carried him across to the narrow door. He slid
back the cover, stepped inside, then pushed the cover back in place in place. After some moments during
which he seemed to wait, he talked to the listening darkness.

“I’m sorry this had to be done. I am really sorry. But neither of us can help it."
The sound of the gangsas beat through the walls of the dark house like muffled roars of falling waters.
The woman who had moved with a start when the sliding door opened had been hearing the gangsas for
she did not know how long. There was a sudden rush of fire in her. She gave no sign that she heard
Awiyao, but continued to sit unmoving in the darkness.

But Awiyao knew that she heard him and his heart pitied her. He crawled on all fours to the
middle of the room; he knew exactly where the stove was. With bare fingers, he stirred the covered
smoldering embers and blew into the stove. When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces of pine on
them, then full round logs as his arms. The room brightened.

"Why don't you go out," he said, "and join the dancing women?" He felt a pang inside him,
because what he said was really not the right thing to say and because the woman did not stir. "You
should join the dancers," he said, "as if nothing had happened." He looked at the woman huddled in a
corner of the room, leaning against the wall. The stove fire played with strange moving shadows and
lights upon her face. She was partly sullen, but her sullenness was not because of anger or hate.
"Go out--go out and dance. If you really don't hate me for this separation, go out and dance. One of the
men will see you dance well; he will like your dancing, he will marry you. Who knows but that, with
him, you will be luckier than you were with me."

“I don't want any man," she said sharply. "I don't want any other man."
He felt relieved that at least she talked: "You know very well that I won't want any woman either. You
know that, don't you? Lumnay, you know it, don't you? She answers him.
"You know it Lumnay, don't you? He repeated.
"Yes, I know," she said weakly.
“It’s not my fault,” he said, feeling relieved. “You cannot blame me; I have been a good husband to
you.” Neither can you blame me," she said. She seemed about to cry.
“No, you have been very good to me. You have been a good wife. I have nothing to say against you.”
He set some of the burning wood in place. “It’s only that a man must have a child. Seven harvests are
just too long to wait. Yes, we have waited too long. We should have another chance before it is too late
for both of us." man must have a child.

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 This time, the woman stirred, stretched her right leg out and bent her left leg in. She wound the
blanket more snugly around herself.
“You know that I have done my best," she said. "I have prayed to Kabunyan much. I have sacrificed
many chickens in my prayers."

“Yes, I know.”
“You remember how angry you were once when you came home from your work in the terrace because
I butchered one of our pigs without your permission? I did it to appease Kabunyan, because, like you, I
wanted to have a child. But what could I do?”

“Kabunyan does not see fit for us to have a child,” he said. He stirred the fire. The spark rose through
the crackles of the flames. The smoke and soot went up the ceiling.

Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split bamboo
flooring in place. She tugged at the rattan flooring. Each time she did this the split bamboo went up and
came down with a slight rattle. The gong of the dancers clamorously called in her care through the walls.
Awiyao went to the corner where Lumnay sat, paused before her, looked at her bronzed and sturdy face,
then turned to where the jars of water stood piled one over the other. Awiyao took a coconut cup and
dipped it in the top jar and drank. Lumnay had filled the jars from the mountain creek early that evening.

“I came home,” he said. "Because I did not find you among the dancers. Of course, I am not forcing you
to come, if you don’t want to join my wedding ceremony. I came to tell you that Madulimay, although I
am marrying her, can never become as good as you are. She is not as strong in planting beans, not as
fast in cleaning water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You are one of the best wives in the
whole village."

“That has not done me any good, has it?” She said. She looked at him lovingly. She almost seemed to
smile.

He put the coconut cup aside on the floor and came closer to her. He held her face between his
hands and looked longingly at her beauty. But her eyes looked away. Never gain would he hold her face.
The next day she would not be his anymore. She would go back to her parents. He let go of her face, and
she bent to the floor again and looked at her fingers as they tugged softly at the split bamboo floor.
“This house is yours,” he said. "I built it for you. Make it your own, live in it a wish. I will build another
house for Madulimay.

“I have no need for a house," she said slowly. "I’ll go to my own house. My parents are old. They will
help in the planting of the beans, in the pounding of the rice."
“I will give you the field that I dug out of the mountains during the first year of our marriage,” he said.
“You know I did it for you. You helped me to make it for the two of us.”
“I have no use for any field,” she said.

He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a time. “Go back to
the dance,” she said finally. “It is not right for you to be here. They will wonder where you are, and
Madulimay will not feel good. Go back to the dance.”

“I would feel better if you could come, and dance---for the last time. The gangsas are playing.”
"You know that I cannot."
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“Lumnay,” he said tenderly. “Lumnay, if I did this it is because of my need for a child. You know that
life is not worth living without a child. The man has mocked me behind my back. You know that.”
“I know it,” he said. “I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay.”
She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, and sobbed.

She thought of the seven harvests that had passed, the high hopes they had in of their new life,
the day he took her away from her parents across the roar other side of the mountain, the trip up the trail
which they had to climb, the steep canyon which they had to cross. The waters boiled in her mind in
forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the waters tolled and growled, resounded in thunderous
echoes through the walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away now from somewhere on the tops of the
other ranges, and they had looked carefully at the buttresses of rocks they had to step on ---a slip would
have meant death.

They both drank of the water then rested on the other bank before they made the final climb to
the other side of the mountain. She looked at his face with the fire playing upon his features---hard and
strong, and kind. He had a sense of lightness in his way of saying things which often made her and the
village people laugh. How proud she had been of his humor. The muscles where taut and firm, bronze
and compact in their hold upon his skull---how frank his bright eyes were. She looked at his body the
carved out of the mountains five fields for her; his wide and supple torso heaved as if a slab of shining
lumber were heaving; his arms and legs flowed down in fluent muscles--he was strong and for that she
had lost him.

She flung herself upon his knees and clung to them. "Awiyao, Awiyao, my husband," she cried. I
did everything to have a child," she said passionately in a hoarse whisper. "Look at me," she cried.
"Look at my body. Then it was full of promise. It could dance; it could work fast in the fields; it could
climb the mountains fast. Even now it is firm, full. But, Awiyao, I am useless. I must die." "It will not be
right to die," he said, gathering her in his arms. Her whole warm naked breast quivered against his own;
she clung now to his neck, and her hand lay upon his right shoulder; her hair flowed down in cascades of
gleaming darkness.

“I don't care about the fields," she said. "I don't care about the house. I don't care for anything but you.
“I’ll have no other man."
“Then you'll always be fruitless.”
“I’ll go back to my father, I'll die.”
“Then you hate me,” he said. “If you die it means you hate me. You do not want me to have a child. You
do not want my name to live on in our tribe."
She was silent.

“If I do not try a second time," he explained, "it means I'll die. Nobody will get the fields I have carved
out of the mountains; nobody will come after me."
“If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder.
“No--no, I don't want you to fail.”
“If I fail,” he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both of us will die together. Both of us will vanish from
the life of our tribe.”

The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and far away.
“I’ll keep my beads,” she said. “Awiyao, let me keep my beads,” she half-whispered.
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“You will keep the beads. They come from far-off times. My grandmother said they come from up
North, from the slant-eyed people across the sea. You keep them, Lumnay. They are worth twenty
fields.”

“I’ll keep them because they stand for the love you have for me, she said. “I love you. I love you and
have nothing to give.”

She took herself away from him, for a voice was calling out to him from outside. “Awiyao! O
Awiyao! They are looking for you at the dance!”

"I am not in a hurry."

"The elders will scold you. You had better go.
"Not until you tell me that it is all right with you.
It is all right with me."
He clasped her hands. "I do this for the sake of the tribe," he said
“I know,” she said.
He went to the door.
"Awiyao!"

He stopped as if suddenly hit by a spear. In pain he turned to her. Her face was in agony pained
him to leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it that made a man wish for a child? What was
it in life, in the work in the field, in the planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in the
communing with husband and wife, in the whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish for the
laughter and speech of a child? Suppose he changed his mind? Why did the unwritten law demand,
anyway, that a man, to be a man, must have a child to come after him? And if he was fruitless--but he
loved Lumnay. It was like taking away of his life to leave her like this.

“Awiyao,” she said, and her eyes seemed to smile in the light, "The beads!" He turned back and walked
to the farthest corner of their room, to the trunk where they kept their worldly possession—his battle-ax
and his spear points, her betel nut box and her beads. He dug out from the darkness the beads which had
been given to him by his grandmother to give to Lumnay on the beads on, and tied them in place. The
white and jade and deep orange obsidians shone in the firelight. She suddenly clung to him, clung to his
neck as if she would never let him go.

“Awiyao! Awiyao, it is hard!" She gasped, and she closed her eyes and hurried her face in his neck.
The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried out into the night.
Lumnay sat for some time in the darkness. Then she went to the door and opened it. The moonlight
struck her face; the moonlight spilled itself on the whole village.

She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other
houses. She knew that all the houses were empty that the whole tribe was at the dance. Only she was
absent. And yet was she not the best dancer of the village? Did she not have the most lightness and
grace? Could she not, alone among all women, dance like a bird tripping for grains on the ground,
beautifully timed to the beat of the gangsas? Did not the men praise her supple body, and the women
envy the way she stretched her hands like the wings of the mountain eagle now and then as she danced?
How long ago did she dance at her own wedding? Tonight, all the women who counted, who once
danced in her honor, were dancing honor of another whose only claim was that perhaps she could give
her husband a child.
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"It is not right. It is not right!" she cried. "How does she know? How can anybody know? It is not right,"
she said.

Suddenly she found courage. She would go to the dance. She would go to the chief of the village,
to the elders, to tell them it was not right. Awiyao was hers; nobody could take him away from her.
Let her be the first woman to complain, to denounce the unwritten rule that a man may take another
woman. She would tell Awiyao to come back to her. He surely would relent. Was not their love as
strong as the river?

She made for the other side of the village dancing was. There was a flaming glow over the whole
place; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamored more loudly now, and now it seemed they
were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The man leaped lightly
with their gangsas as they circled the dancing women decked in feast garments and beads, tripping on
the ground like graceful birds, following their men. Her heart warmed to the flaming call of the dance;
strange heat in her blood welled up, and she started to run. But the gleaming brightness of the bonfire
commanded her to stop. “Did anybody see her approach?”

She stopped. “What if somebody had seen her coming?” The flames of the bonfire leaped in
countless sparks which spread and rose like yellow points and died out in the night. The blaze reached
out to her like a spreading radiance. She did not have the courage to break into the wedding feast.
Lumnay walked away from the dancing ground, away from the village. She thought of the new clearing
of beans which Awiyao and she had started to make only four moons before. She followed the trail
above the village.

When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it caretully. Nobody held her hand, and the
stream water was very cold. The trail went up again, and she was in the moonlight shadows among the
trees and shrubs. Slowly she climbed the mountain.

When Lumnay reached the clearing, she could see from where she stood the blazing bornfire at
the edge of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far-off clamor of the gongs, still rich
in their sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they seemed to
call far to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their gratitude for
her sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.

Lumnay thought of Awiyao as the Awiyao she had known long ago-- a strong, muscular boy
carrying his heavy loads of fuel logs down the mountains to his home. She had met him one day as she
was on her way to fill her clay jars with water.

He had stopped at the spring to drink and rest and she had made him drink the cool mountain water from
her coconut shell. After that it did not take him long to decide to throw his spear on the stairs of her
father's house in token on his desire to marry her.

The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to stir the leaves of
the bean plants. Lumnay looked for a big rock on which to sit down. The bean plants now surrounded
her, and she was lost among them.

A few more weeks, a few more months, a few more harvests--what did it matter?

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She would be holding the bean flowers, soft in the texture, silken almost, but moist where the dew got
into them, silver to look at, silver on the light blue, blooming whiteness, when the morning comes. The
stretching of the bean pods full length from the hearts of the petals would go on.
Lumnay's fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.

Keep in Mind:
In love, it is not wrong to fight for what you feel. But you need to consider and respect the
traditions of others. If you truly love the person, you must be ready to sacrifice, even if it means
letting him/her go.

B. SINIGANG by Marby Villaceran

“So, what happened?”

She had finally decided to ask the question. I had been wondering how long my Tita Loleng could
contain her curiosity.

I continued to pick out tomatoes for the sinigang we were to have for dinner. I wasn't usually
who assisted my aunt with the cooking. She preferred my younger sister, Meg, for I knew the one who
far less in this area-not having the aptitude, or the interest, I guess-for remembering recipes. That didn't
matter today, though. This time, Tita Loleng wanted more than just an extra pair of hands in the kitchen.
“Nothing much,” I answered offhandedly. "We did what people usually do during funerals. “I reminded
myself to tread carefully with her. Though I did not really feel like talking. I could not tell her off for she
took offense rather easily.

I put the tomatoes in the small palanggana, careful not to bruise their delicate skin, and carried
them to the sink.
“Did you meet...her?” Tita Loleng asked.

There came to me a memory of sitting in one of the smaller narra sofas in the living room in
Bulacan. I faced a smooth white coffin whose corners bore gold-plated figures of cherubs framed by
elaborate swirls resembling thick, curling vines.

Two golden candelabras, each supporting three rows of high-wattage electric candles, flanked
the coffin and seared the white kalachuchi in the funeral wreaths, causing the flowers to release more of
their heady scent before they wilted prematurely. Through an open doorway, I could see into the next
room where a few unfamiliar faces held murmured conversations above their coffee cups.
“Are you Liza?” A woman beside me suddenly asked.

I was surprised, for I had not heard anyone approaching. Most of the mourners preferred to stay
out on the veranda for fear that the heat from the lights might also cause them to wither. I looked slowly:
long, slim feet with mauve-painted toenails that peeked through the unlike of a pair of scruffy-looking
slippers; smooth legs unmarred by swollen veins or scars – so unlike the spider-veined legs of my mom-
encased in a black, pencil-cut skirt; a white blouse with its sleeves too long for the wearer, causing the
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extra fabric to bunch around the cuffs; a slim neck whose skin sagged just a little bit; anda she pale was
face in that her seemed like it had not experienced sleep in days. The woman looked to me i like she
was in her fort as my mother.

“Yes,” I had answered that woman-the same answer I now gave to Tita Loleng. I gently spilled out all
the tomatoes into the sink and turned on the tap. The water, like agua bendita, cleansed each tomato of
the grime from its origins.

“What did she tell you?” Tita Loleng asked.

"Nothing much. She told me who she was."

"What did she look like?"

"She's pretty, I guess."

She was. She looked like she had Indian blood with her sharp nose and deep-set eyes thickly
bordered by long lashes. Just like Mom, she still maintained a slim figure though she already had
children. The woman, upon seeing my curious stare, had explained, "I am Sylvia."
All my muscles tensed upon hearing her name. It took all my self-control to outwardly remain calm and
simply raise an eyebrow.
My reaction caused a range of emotion to cross the woman's face before it finally crumbled and
gave way to tears. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand from where it had been resting on the arm of the
sofa. Her own hands were damp and sticky with sweat. She knelt in front of me-a sinner confessing
before a priest so he could wash away the dirt from her past.

But I was not a priest. I looked down at her and my face remained impassive. When her weeping
had subsided, she raised her head and looked at me. "Everyone makes mistakes, Liza." Her eyes begged
for understanding.

It was a line straight out of a Filipino soap opera. I had a feeling that the whole situation was a
scene from a very bad melodrama I was watching. I looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the
spectacle unfolding in this living room, but it was as if an invisible director banned all but the actors
from the set. Except for us, not a soul could be seen.

I wanted Sylvia to free my hand so nodded and pretended to understand. Apparently convinced,
she let go and, to my shock, suddenly hugged me tight.
My nose wrinkled as the pungent mix of heavy perfume and sweat assailed me. I wanted to scream at
her to let go but I did not move away.

"Hmm, I think they're washed enough na." Tita Loleng said.

Turning off the tap, I placed the tomatoes inside the basin once more. Then, as an afterthought, I
told my Tita, “I don’t think she is as pretty as Mom, though."
Tita Loleng nodded understandingly. She gestured for me to place the basin on the table where she
already had the knives and chopping board ready.

“Where was your Dad when she was talking to you?"

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“Oh, he was sleeping 1n one of the bedrooms. Mom did not want to wake him up because they told her
he had not slept for two nights straight."

Tita Loleng snorted. "Haay, your mother talaga," she said, shaking her head.
I had to smile at that before continuing. "When he saw me, Sylvia had already been called away to
entertain some of the visitors."

"Was he surprised to see you?" Tita knew that I had not wanted to go to the funeral. Actually, she was
one of the few people who respected, and understood, my decision.

"No." I sliced each of the tomatoes in quarters. The blade of the knife clacked fiercely against the hard
wood of the chopping board. "He requested Mom to make me go there." We both knew that I could
never have refused my mother once she insisted that I attend. I had even gone out and gotten drunk with
some friends the night before we were to leave just so I could have an excuse not to go, but my mom
was inflexible. She had ordered my two sisters to wake me up.

Tita Loleng gave me a sympathetic look. "No choice then, huh?" She was forever baffled at the
way my mother could be such a martyr when it came to my father and such a tyrant to her children.
Clack! Clack! The knife hacked violently against the board.
"Nope.”

When my Dad had come out of the room, I remembered sensing it immediately-the same
searching for any resemblance between us. Chemotherapy had sunk his animal instinctively perceives
when it is in danger. I had been looking at the face of my dead half-brother, searching for any
resemblance between us. Chemotherapy had sunk his cheeks and had made his hair fall out, but even in
this condition, I could see how handsome he must have been before his treatment. His framed
photograph atop the glass covering of the coffin confirmed this. Lem took after my father so much that
Dad could never even hope to deny that he was his son. I, on the other hand, had taken after my mother.
I knew my father was staring at me but I refused to look at him. He approached and stood next to me. I
remained silent.

“I am glad you came," he said. I gave him a non-committal nod, not even glancing his way. Tita Loleng
interrupted my thoughts with another one of her questions. "Did you cry?" I shook my head vehemently
as I answered, "No.” I took the sliced tomatoes, surprised to find not even a splinter of wood with them,
as well as the onions Tita Loleng had chopped and put them in a pot. "What next?" I asked her.

“The salt." Then she went and added a heaping tablespoonful of salt to the pot.
“Is that all?”

"Uh-huh. Your Mom and I prefer it a bit saltier, but your Dad likes it this way." Then she gestured
towards the pot, closing and opening her fist like a baby flexing its fingers. I started crushing the onions,
tomatoes, and salt together with my hand.

He was an acolyte in church," my father had said then, finally splintering the silence I had
adamantly maintained. "Father Mario said that we shouldn't feel sad because Lem is assured of going to
a better place because he was such a good child." Good, I thought, unlike me whom he always called
"Sinverguenza", the shameless daughter.
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 I finally turned to him. There was only one question I needed to ask. "Why?"
He met my gaze. I waited but he would not-could not- answer me. He looked away.
My mask of indifference slipped. It felt like a giant hand was rubbing salt into me, squeezing and
mashing, unsatisfied until all of me had been crushed.

“Stop it na, Liza!” Tita Loleng exclaimed. "Anymore of that mashing and you will be puts bits of your
own flesh and bone in there, my aunt warned. She went to the refrigerator and took out plastic bags
containing vegetables. She placed them in the sink. "All of these will be needed for the sinigang, she
said. "Prepare them while you're softening the meat." Then she took off her apron, "You go and finish
off here. I will just go to my room out a bit.” With a tender pat on my head, she walked out of the
kitchen.

I breathed a sigh of relief. The questions had stopped, for now. I poured the hugas bigas into the
mass of crushed onions and tomatoes and added the chunks of beef into the concoction before covering
the pot and placing it on the stove. I turned on the flame. The sinigang needed to simmer for close to an
hour to tenderize the meat.
In the meantime, I started preparing all the other ingredients that will be added to the pot later on.
Taking all the plastic bags, I unloaded their contents into the sink then washed and drained each
vegetable thoroughly before putting them beside my chopping board.

I reached for the bunch of kangkong and began breaking off choice sections to be included in the
stew. When I was a child, before Tita Loleng had chosen to stay with us, my mom used to do the
cooking and she would have Meg and I sit beside her while she readied the meals. I remembered that
whenever it came to any dish involving kangkong, I would always insist on preparing it because I loved
the crisp popping sound the vegetable made whenever I broke off a stem. It was on one such occasion, I
was in second-year high school by then but still insistent on kangkong preparation, when Mom had
divulged the truth about the boy who kept calling Dad on the phone everyday at home. Meg had also
been there, breaking off string beans into two-inch sections. Neither of us had reacted much then, but
between us, I knew I was more affected by what Mom had said because right until then, I had always
been Daddy's girl.

When the kangkong was done, I threw away the tough, unwanted parts and reached for the
labanos. I used a peeler to strip away the skin--revealing the white, slightly graiy flesh-and then sliced
each root diagonally. Next came the sigarilyas, and finally, the string beans. Once, I asked Tita Loleng
how she knew what type of vegetable to put into sinigang and she said,
Well, one never really knows which will taste good until one has tried it. I mean, some people cook
sinigang with guavas, some with kamias. It is a dish whose recipe would depend mostly on the taste of
those who will do the eating.

I got a fork and went to the stove where the meat was simmering. I prodded the chunks to test
whether they were tender enough-and they were. After pouring in some more of the rice washing, I
cleared the table and waited for the stew to boil. A few minutes later, the sound of rapidly popping
bubbles declared that it was now time to add the powdered tamarind mix. I poured in the whole packet
and stirred. Then I took the vegetables and added them, a fistful me, to the pot. As I did so, I
remembered the flower petals each of my two sisters and I had thrown, fistful by fistful, into the freshly
dug grave as Lem's casket was being lowered into

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 My dad was crying beside me and I recalled thinking, would he be the same if I was the one who
had died? I glanced up at him and was surprised to find that he was looking at me. His hand, heavy with
sadness, fell on my shoulder.

"I’m sorry," he had told me.I let the stew boil for a few more minutes before turning off the fire.

The sinigang would be served later during dinner. I pictured myself seated in my usual place
beside my father who is at the head of the table. He would tell Mom about his day and then he would
ask each of us about our own. I would answer, not in the animated way I would have done when I was
still young and his pet, but politely and without any rancor.

Then, he would complement me on the way I had cooked his favorite dish and I would givehim a
smile that would never quite show, not even in my eyes.

Keep in Mind:

People may forgive your mistakes but the relationship you had with them will never be the
same as before.

REFERENCES
Books:

Baronda, Andrew John (2016). 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World. JFS
Publishing Services. Pasay City

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 Ave Maria College
SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL DEPARTMENT
School ID No. 402686 Gov’t Permit No. 0059 s. 2015

Weekly Exam 5- Reading Log: “Sinigang”

NAME: _____________________________________ DATE: __________

PROGRAM & YEAR ___________________________ SCORE: _________

A. Instruction: After reading the story, write a summary, close analysis and critical interpretation on the
spaces provided. See guidelines on the next page.

The story starts with a girl named Liza, and her Tita Loleng, preparing Liza's favorite dish, Sinigang.
Usually, it was never Liza's turn to help her Tita Loleng in cooking sinigang. But not today. Liza was
the one tasked by her Tita Loleng to pick out the vegetables to use in the Sinigang. While cooking, they
had a conversation about Liza, attending the funeral of her half-brother, Lem. Lem died of cancer, but it
was evident that he was her father's son. Lem was not always the kindest to Liza when he was still alive.
Though he was an acolyte for the church, he would always call Liza "sinverguenza", the shameless
daughter. During the funeral, Liza recalled that she was greeted by Lem's mother. She described that she
was not as pretty as her mom. Lem's mother asked for forgiveness, to whom Liza just nodded without
any emotions. Lem's mother took this as a yes and hugged Liza. She recalled that she smelled like
perfume and sweat, but didn't move so as not to be rude. Growing up, Liza always wondered who the
boy who kept calling his father on the phone everyday. And now that she had the answer, it broke her
heart. She was always Daddy's girl. When it was time for Lem's burial, as they watch his coffin being
lowered, Liza's father looked at her, and said sorry. The sinigang she and her Tita Loleng cooked will be
served for dinner. Everything will be just the same, but different. Her dad will tell her mom about his
day, and then ask each of them about theirs, her father will compliment her about the Sinigang they
cooked and she would smile at her father like she always did. But this time, her smile won't even reach
her eyes.

CLOSE ANALYSIS

Liza, the main character in the novel, manages her communication style with her aunt, Tita Loleng,
calmly and effectively, despite her lack of desire to speak. Each story line has a large number of
adjectives.The story is narrated by Liza because it is a first person’s point of view, she is the only one
who tells the story. The plot revolves around her father's favorite dish, Sinigang. She uses considerable
emotion in her narrative, although this isn't indicated in the message. The narration is a little complicated
because it is a short story, but the lines in the dialogue message are straightforward. During the cooking

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of Siningang, the narrator aims to elaborate on her emotional reactions toward the other characters, the
aunt, father, and other woman Sylvia.

CRITICAL INTERPRETATION

The storyteller described the situation in a calm manner. Liza, her tita loleng, her father Mario, and other
women Sylvia are among the characters in the novel. Liza's terrible recollections of her family,
particularly her father, are depicted in the story. Her narration is filled with bitter feelings and
knowledge connected to the story of Sinigang's creation. Her food comes with a notice that the flavor of
the dish will vary depending on who is eating it.

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 Guidelines for Preparing a Reading Log
Summary: (First Paragraph)
Close Analysis: (Second Paragraph)
Diction:
 What words are being used here?
 Are any words repeated in this passage?
 What adjectives are used? What nouns do they describe? How do they alter your understanding
of these nouns?
 Are any two (or more? Words used in this passage connected in some way?
Narrative Voice:
 Who is speaking in this passage?
 What narrative perspective is being used in this passage?
 What does the narrative voice tell you?
 What characters does it give you access to?
Tone:
 Is the speaker being straightforward, factual, and open?
 Is he or she taking a less direct route toward his or her meaning?
 Does the voice carry any emotion? Or is it detached from its subject?
 Do you hear irony (what is said is different from what is meant)? If so, where?
Rhetorical and Literary Devices:
 Do you notice any figurative language, such as metaphors and similes?
 Do you observe any imagery?
 Is the sound of the language and sentences important (e.g. rhyme, repetition, choppy or long
sentences)?
 What kinds of words are used (intellectual, elaborate, plain, or vulgar)? Why are words being
used in this way?
 Why are sentences long or short? Why might the author be using complicated or simple
sentences? What might this type of sentence structure suggest about what the passage is trying to
convey?
 Who is the narrator? What is the narrative voice providing these particular descriptions? Why are
we given access to the consciousness of these particular characters? Why not others?
 What images do you see in the passage? What might they represent? Is there a common theme?
 Why might the tone of the passage be emotional (or detached)?
 To what purpose might the text employ irony?
 What effect/impact is the author trying to create?
Critical Interpretation: (Third Paragraph)
 What is the relationship between the characters and their society?
 Does the story address societal issues, such as race, gender, and class?
 How do social forces shape the power relationships between groups or classes of people in the
story? Who has the power, and who doesn't? Why?
 What does the work say about economic or social power?
 Does the story address issue of economic exploitation? What role does money play?
 How do economic conditions determine the direction of the characters' lives?
 Does the work challenge or affirm the social order it depicts?
B. Instruction: Answer the following questions to check your understanding.

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1. Which version is somewhat more interesting among the creation stories? Why?
- The version that I find more interesting among the “The Creation” story is the Igorot
version because this emphasizes or shows the interests of every igorots about everything
about them.

2. What have you realized upon reading the stories?

- I have realized that every culture has different beliefs and we need to respect that.

3. What makes short stories interesting for you?

- It’s because of the multi-dimensional characters, its intriguing, and unique plot. Also,
the cliché plotline but surprising twists.

Ave Maria College

SENIOR HIGH SCHOOL DEPARTMENT

82
 School ID No. 402686 Gov’t Permit No. 0059 s. 2015

Activity 5: Storyboard Making

NAME: _____________________________________ DATE: _________

PROGRAM & YEAR ___________________________ SCORE: ________

Instruction: Choose one version of the “Creation Story” and illustrate the scenes by making a
storyboard.

Image: Scene:

Image: Scene:

Image: Scene:

Reminder:
Keep all your outputs in your portfolio and make sure to submit them to your course facilitator
before you proceed to week 6.
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One more feather on your cap!
End of Week 5

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