Maguindanao Pearl by Isidro P.

Retizos

GROUP 5 English Presentation

Characters:

Sinag-Tala, Grandmother, Walang Gulat, Lakambini, Pirang Kawayan, Alipin, Villagers, Chief Judge

Introduction

When Sinag-Tala was only two-and-a-half days old, her withered grandmother came. And she placed in
the child’s hand a fresh lily and in the other, a small, palid pearl.

“Sinag-Tala shall grow soft and delicate like a lily,” the grandmother said toothlessly,” and pearls she
shall admire, pearls she shall love. Someday, when she is grown up, she will own priceless pearls taken
from oysters living in the blue seas far away Maguindanao.”

Over two hundred silver moons had passed since then; the Talisay and camagong trees had grown taller
and stouter. And the first part of the prophecy came true.

“Lily by the river” she was admiringly called by the village youths. She would only smile at them and say:
“But I am not beautiful.”

For the village maiden, to be beautiful one must have strings of lustrous pearls. Yes, pearls that would
caress her graceful neck and follow the tender curve of her young, shapely breast. But she did not have
them. She had only the tiny, palid one given her by the old prophesying grandmother. And thus, from
Sinag-Tala was born, the Talisay and camagong trees had blossomed and fructified sixteen times, and
the village urchins she played with when she was a small girl were now grown to barangay warriors with
muscles of steel and chest of iron.

AI! AI! Sixteen flower seasons had passed since first she came and still she had no pearls – only that little
pale one. But one morning their sawali door rustled. Then slowly it opened. The head of an aliping
namamahay – house slave – showed.

“Sinag-Tala, basket weaver, daughter of pirang Kawayan, is wanted by Lakambini, daughter of the rajah,
chief of Maynilad clan.”

“Lakambini wants me?” the girl laid down her work,

“She desires me – why? “I know not but she orders you to come soon,” said the slave and withdrew.
And Sinag-Tala went, walked through grassy paths, under the shady palm trees, till she reached the
rajah house.

“Weave, you, two beautiful baskets for me,” said Lakambini with thin arms and flat breasts. The rajah’s
daughter toyed with her string of lustrous pearls – priceless sea gems brought by wily Moros from their
faraway land.

And Sinag-Tala’s eyes glowed with wonder, and her lips slightly paled with desire. If she could only have
gems like them. “Need you those baskets soon, favored of the moon,” she asked. “Hurry not their
making,” the rajah’s daughter replied. “They must be strong and lovely, for they shall be gifts to the
mother of Walang Gulat, son of the chief, he who rules the Pasigan barangay.”

“And who is this Walang Gulat…?” “How foolish!” Lakambini laughed as her color deepened.

“You delight me with your innocence. Go you now, inquisitive one!” So Sinag-Tala left.

She went to the riverside to gather bamban reeds and young bamboo joints to be used in basket
weaving. And all the while she thought of the pearls adorning Lakambini’s dark neck and flat,
unappealing breasts. If she could only wear them.

Ah, how much better still if she owned them! She parted the bushes which brushed at her face and
scratched her soft cheeks. The bambans grow in a marshy site: she would lose her balance if she leaned
any father over the water for them.

“Girl with the slender body,” a voice sounded near, “wish you a fall into that stream?” She turned.

Ah! Magiting, the fisher of the deep, warrior from the Pasigan clan. He paddled in his small boat.

“Weaver Pasigan braves rave so much about you want these bambans?” “I need them.” Said Sinag-Tala
blushing prettily.

The banka drifted nearer the long reeds. A bolo splashed many times in the water bamboo shoots were
held out to her. She flashed a smile at him gratefully.

“Lilies you should gather, nilad flowers to adorn your hair.” She liked Magiting’s word of admiration.

She gathered the bamboo reeds and tied them with wild creepers. “Must you be going? Said the young
man who had moored his boat and stood beside her. “These reeds are heavy let me carry them for you.”

“You say you have seen them… together?“ Lakambini, owner of the pearls was pale.

“I see them… always,” the female house slave said to her mistress,

“Every afternoon when the shadows of the palm trees are longer.”

“What have they been saying to each other? What did you hear?”

“They speak not much,” the slave tattled. “They look only at one another. And Walang Gulat frequently
holds Sinag-Tala and… “No, no! Don’t go on!” Lakmbini clutched at her pearls convulsively “I don’t want
to hear about it anymore!”

But then she screeched at the cowering bundle of humanity! “Alipin – slave! Did I not tell you to get
nearer, to hear what they were saying?”

“I did. I hid myself in the bushes.” Came the frightened reply. “And I hear him say the two Pasigan
nobles would thrust his spear at the stairs of Pirang Kawayan Hut.”

Walang Gulat wanted to marry Sinag-Tala, the common basketweaver! Why it could not be! “Go,” she
ordered her slave. “Call you Sinag-Tala. Tell her to come with the baskets I told her to weave.” Awih!
Yes, when Sinag-Tala came, she, Lakambini, would tell that her baskets were no longer wanted. Flirting
along the riverside? How brazen of that girl! Should she…? Cheh! No, ten times no!
And Lakambini off her pearls - they felt oppressive those round pilots from the blue waters of
Maguindanao they felt cold against her heaving tumultuous breasts carelessly she flung the glittering
stream it's a bronze casket that stood on a table of camagong.

There was a proximate of evil in the morning air the sky was overcast and more stubborn clouds were
beginning to gather the village of Maynilad was not happy that day. For the drums we're beating
weirdly, announcing that an ordeal will soon take place.

Five old heads the wise hukom - judges sat in a semicircle before the village populace. the oldest rose
and raised his tattered arm there was silence around nothing could be heard except the faint barking of
dogs in the distance and the rustle of the wind through coconut tops.

“People of this barangay,” the old man's voice echoed across the river. Lakambini’s pearls, the priceless
heirloom handed down from mother to daughter for generations have been stolen many days of search
have passed but they have not been found. And Lakambini, therefore, charges Sinag-Tala, daughter of
Pirang kawayan, with the theft of the jewels.”

“The Lost Maguindanao pearls were left in a bronze casket” explained the judge. “And the box was
under camagong table in Lakambini’s room the day Sinag-Tala came to deliver the baskets.”

Men shifted their weighs uneasily. “Singa-Tala, swear you that you did not steal the jewels? Again the
deadly silence punctuated by the crackling of burning branches and the greedy simmering of the water
in the huge cauldron.

Then came the trembling hesitant voice of Sinag-Tala: “If I did take the pearls of Lakambini, then may
the hungry crocodiles swallow me and the flames scorch me!” Two slaves, also accused, likewise swore
by the memories of their dead forefathers, by the gigantic aswangs that roost on balete tops, and by the
terrible beings that prowl about on dark, stormy nights.

“Alipin,” the chief judged asked one, “dare you say before all these people that you did not see, you did
not take the priceless heirloom?”

Terror was written across the slave’s wrinkled face- but guilt not in her eyes. “No pearls did I take no
sacred heirloom did I hide,” she said and looked accusingly at Sinag-Tala.

“But I saw the basket weaver and she was standing by the camagong table, staring covetously at the
string of Maguindanao pearls.”

The judges brought their heads together. They nodded slowly, wisely. “Was the rajah’s daughter in the
room when the basket weaver came?” “No, she was not,” the slave said, gathering courage. “And I left
the room to look for Lakambini did not want her anymore.”

“Noticed you anything in Sinag-Tala’s look?” “Awih! Yes, the girl was pale in the lips and wild in the
eyes,” the slave added. “And the baskets shook in her trembling hands.” The village were silent. Pirang
Kawayan, father of the accused girl, shut his eyes and muttered under his breath. In the distance a ripe
coconut fell with an echoing thud. “Wish you to make a reply to what you have heard, Sinag-Tala?”

A helpless imploring look appeared in the girl’s eyes as she sought for pitying faces around her. She only
saw the grim, unwinking stare of her father, the maker of sawali walls. She cringed under his fierce,
blazing gaze. “No… no! I didn’t!” her asham lips quivered. “If the pearls can still be found,” said the
spokesman, “nothing more will be said. But if they are not…”

There was a great shout. A boatload of people from up the river was swiftly nearing the shore, and the
young man who stood at the prow was gesticulating wildly. “The son of the chief of Pasigan,” cried the
Maynilad braves. Hope surged in Sinag-Tala’s breast: “Magiting!” The young warrior leaped from the
boat; others followed him.

“Men with the wisdom of the aged,” he began after saluting the judges, “I come with the plea that
Sinag-Tala be not tried, Too I have with me the indemnity for the lost pearls, other costly gems sent by
my Father, the Pasigan chief, that Sinag-Tala may be soared the shame of the ordeal.” There was a glad
rumbling among the village people.
But the white-haired judges shook their heads slowly, wisely. “We thank the rajah of Pasigan and his
son,” they said. “But by the laws and customs of ancient Maynilad, a theft done to the family of the
rajah is irreparable. The trial must therefore go on.”

Walang Gulat rushed to the side of Sinag-Tala. But the law forbade that they should talk to each other
they only stared and stared at one another. So Magiting was Walang Gulat whom Lakambini wanted to
wed, Sinag-Tala told herself. “The jewels are not yet found,” the judge was again heard. “And all the
accused have sworn they are innocent. Therefore, must we proceed to the ordeal by fire.” Lakambini
choked back a cry. She alternately crimsoned and paled. She wanted to run away, to hide; but she could
not move. She stood as if petrified by horror.

Pirang Kawayan’s lips trembled as he strode away. He stood apart from the crowd, alone, in a place
where he could see everything. The old man’s eyes were moist with despair, and yet his head was held
high and his massive shoulders did not stoop. For Pirang Kawayan knew that the blood of his ancestors –
nobles themselves – coursed in the veins, the blood of famous men who valued their lives, less than
their unsullied honor. But Sinag-Tala, his wretched offspring – accused the theft of the pearls!

And his massive arms uncoiled themselves from their folded position. Deliberately his right hand
fumbled at his waist. But then both his hands balled themselves into mighty, knotting fists of iron.

Sinag-Tala would be the first to pass the ordeal, so it was ordained. Swiftly she was blindfolded. The
smoke encircled her uncertainly, while the fire under the cauldron crackled.

“Therefore, must the accused Sinag-Tala – as the others who will follow…” the voice was but a drowning
sound, dip her hands into the boiling pot and take out the white stone that rest in its bottom. And if her
hands remain unblistered, unburnt, then it is a sign that our gods find her guiltless and we pronounce
her innocent. But if they get burnt…!”

But Lakambini, the rajah’s daughter, torn by the conflicting emotions among which was remorse for
what she had brought, could no longer hold herself.

And she had seen Pirang Kawayan, and realized what the old man was about to do. “Don’t! Don’t” she
screamed hysterically as she ran toward the doomed Sinag-Tala. But Lakambini, owner f the stolen
Maguindanao pearls, was late, too late…! For Sinag-Tala’s father had suddenly whipped himself up. With
the speed of lightning, his hand had traveled to his waist, and out came a glittering, thin-bladed, sharp-
pointed dagger.
There was only an instant pause after the Lakambini’s shriek. Then something flashed and scintillated as
it swiftly whizzed through the air and struck Sinag-Tala in the breast. Old Pirang’s hand was firm and his
aim had been fatefully true!

“Bathala! God, she’s innocent! I have the pearls!” Lakambini added foolishly, incoherently. She madly
kissed the comely paling face and pressed the dying girl close to her. “Sinag-Tala, forgive me! I hid the
pearls- I hid them! Sinag-Tala…!

The End!