REGION 1- ILOCOS REGION

About 1,453,000 hardworking estimated Ilocanos live in the provinces of Abra, Ilocos Norte,
Ilocos Sur and La Union in the northwestern coast of Luzon of its 11,447.5 sq. Km. Only a narrow
strip of plain is fertile and arable, with rice as its chief crop. Due to this limited area for
agriculture, foodstuffs are often insufficient
The physical environment of Ilocandia has effected the Ilocano way of life. Ilocanos are thrifty
and used to difficulties and hardships. They work hard to earn a living; thus to an Ilocano every
centavo counts. A long provinces makes agriculture in the area not profitable. As a result, the
Ilocano families engage in other occupations. Men as well as women, spin and dye yarns. Women
with their native crude hand looms weave blankets, towels, napkins, table cloths, bags, and
jackets. Aside from weaving, bagoong and tuba making are two other industries of the Ilocanos.
Ilocanos strive hard to make a living, difficulty is never to their success. To Ilocano, hardships
can easily be overcome. He believes in the value of study, industry and patience; thus, every
Ilocano family encourages the children to go to school and learn skills to find better paying jobs
and consequently, have a better life.
The serious outlook of the Ilocano is reflected on his physical movement as well as in his
writings. He is not lyrics type; he is the epic type. An Ilocano epic depicting this sobriety is Biag ni
Lam-ang, a poetry piece that requires sustained effort. Among the well know Ilocano writers are
Salvador Lopez, Leopoldo Yabes, Manuel Arguilla, and Consorcio Borje.
The ancient literature of the Ilocano consisted of songs for different occasions. The Ilocano
war song expressed the vigor and joys of the warriors coming from battle; the dal-ot, popular
among the peasants was sung during a baptismal party, a wedding or a feast; the badeng or love
song is a serenade. Pamulinawen, a popular Ilocano love song expresses longing for a loved one.

THE WEDDING DANCE

(AMADOR T. DAGUIO)

Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the head - 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. 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 was like a
gush 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 had 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 his fingers he stirred the
covered smouldering embers, and blew into them. When the coals began to glow. Awiyao put
pieces of pine wood on them, then full round logs as big 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 talk or
stir.
“You should join the dancers,” he said “as if - as if nothing has 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 don’t want any other
woman, either. You know that, don’t you? Lumnay, you know it, don’t you?
She did not answer him.
“You know it, Lumnay, don’t you?” he repeated.
“Yes, I know,”
“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.
“You, 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 the place. “It’s only that a man must have a child.
Seven harvests is just too long to wait.
Yes, we have waited long. We should have another chance, before it is too late for both of
us.”
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 I 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 to the ceiling.
Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the spilt
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 gongs of the dancers clamorously called
in her ears 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 jars, not as good in keeping a house clean. You are
one of the best wives in the whole village.”
“That has not done me nay 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 again would he
hold her face. The next day she would not be his any more. 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 as long as you
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 need 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 filed,” she said.
He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a long 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.’
“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. They have mocked me behind my back. You
know that.”
“I know it,” she said. “I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay.”
She bit her lips now, then shook her head widely, and sobbed.
She thought of the seven harvests that had passed, the high hopes they had in the beginning
of their new life, the day he took her away from her parents across the roaring river, on the 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 foams of white and jade and roaring silver; the
waters rolled and growled, resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the steep cliffs;
they were far away now but loud still and receding; The waters violently smashed down 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 humour. 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
that carved out of the mountain 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. She took the
blanket that covered her. “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, Kabunyan never blessed me. Awiyao, Kabunyan is cruel tome. Awiyao, I am
useless. I must die.”
“It will not be right to die,” he said, gathering her in 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 never have another 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; nobondy will come after me.”
“If you fail - if you fail this second time - “ she said thoughtfully. Then her voice was a
shudder. “No - no, I don’t want you to fail.”
“If I fail,” he said, “I’ll come back after to you. Then both of us will die together. Both us will
vanish from the life of our tribe.”
The gangsas thundered through the walss of their house, sonorous and far away.
 “I’ll keep my beads. They came from far - off times. My grandmother said they came form
way 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!
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,” she 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 agony. It
pained him to leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it in life, in the work in the field, in
the planting and harvest, in the silence of night, in the communing of husband 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. Ot
was like taking away half 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 possessions - his battle - axe and his spear points, her betelnut 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 day of his marriage. He went to her, lifted her head, put the beads on,
and tied them in place. The white and jade and deep orange 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 buried her face in his
neck.
The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he hurried 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 upon the whole village.
She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas to her through the caverns of the other houses.
She knew that all of 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 honour, were dancing now in honour of another whose only
claim was that perhaps she could give her husband a child.
“It is not right. It is not right! She cried. “How does she know? How can anybody know? It is
not right,” she said.
She suddenly 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 could break the dancing of the men and women. 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 where the dancing was. There was a flaming glow
over the whole pace; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamoured more loudly now, and it
seemed they were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The
men leaped lithely 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 flaming 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 only to make four moons before. She
followed the trail above the village.
When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hands,
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 bonfire
at the edge of the village, where the wedding was. She could hear the far - off clamour of the gongs,
still rich in their sorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her;
they seemed to call far to her; speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of
their clamour, almost the feeling that they were telling her their gratitude for her sacrifice. Her
heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.
Lumnay thought of Awiyao as the Awiyao 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 long for him to decide to throw is spear on the stairs of her father’s house in token of his
desire to marry her.
The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to sough and
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 the
them.
A few more weeks, a few more moths, a few more harvests - what did it matter? 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 wilting petals would go on.
Lumnay’s fingers moved a long, long time among the growing bean pods.
REGION 3- CENTRAL LUZON
Just like the other ethnolinguistic groups, the Kapampangans have rich customs and traditions
governing the rise of passage. Some of these practices are still being observed nowadays.
Birth Practices. In one of the barrios of Guagua, Pampanga, close relatives of a woman who is
about to deliver a child, together with their neighbor, make noise like shouting, beating in cans and
exploding firecrackers in order to help expel the fetus faster.
Baptismal Rites Practices. In many Kapampangan houses, the baby’s baptismal dress serves as a
souvenir and decoration for the sala. It is put on a frame and hung in the sala like a picture.
Courtship and Marriage. The only prevalent form of courtship now is the pamanhikan, where the
male, with the permission of the parents, is to visit the girl in the latter’s house. When the agreement
is reached between the boy and the girl, the marriage ceremony is arranged. At present, pamanhikan
is being practiced when the parents of the boy confer with their balae (parent of the bride-to-be)
regarding marriage plans of the children.
Death and Burial. The wake (makipaglame) lasts for at least three days and two nights after which
everybody participates in the libing (interment).
As part of the ritual, vigil is observed till the ninth day after the death of the deceased known as
pasiyam (day.
On the first death anniversary, lukas paldas (literally the removing of the dress for mourning) is
practiced with a grandiose meal. The pangadi (prayer obervance) is an important part of the ritual.
On Beliefs. Some of the beliefs which have survived to this day are the following:
Nunu- the old men who reside in mounds
Mangkukulam- fleas and blood men/women possessing dreadful evil power
Tianaka- evil spirits who inhabit forests and bamboo thickets
Dwende- spirit that assume the form of man
Kapre- nocturnal giants
Magkukutud- beings endowed with supernatural powers to separate their heads from their
bodies.

SI MISS PHATHUPATS
(ISINALIN NI LOURDES H. VIDAL)

(1) Punong puno ng kolorete ang mukha ng dalagang si Miss Yeyeng. Sabi nila ipinanganak ang
kanyang mga magulang sa sulok ng Pampanga, sa pinakamaliit na bayan nito. Dahil dito Pilipina si
Miss Yeyeng mula ulo hanggang paa, at kahit sa kadulu-duluhan ng kanyang buhok, Kapampangan
siya.

(2) Dahil mahirap lang sila, pagtitinda and ikinabubuhay. Nakikita si Miss Yeyeng na sunong ang
ginataan o kaya bitso-bitso na inilalako niya sa mga sugalan. Nagdalagang walang pagbabago sa
buhay nitong binibini.

(3) Natapos ang rebolusyon. Nagbukas ng paaralan and pamahalaang militar ng America at dito
pinagturo and mga sundalong Americano. Nangyaring si Miss Yeyeng, Yeyeng pa noon, ala ang
binibini, ay nagkaroon ng suking sundalo. Inakit ng sundalong mag-aral ang dalaga sa paaralang
kanyang pinagtuturuan upang magkaintindihan sila. Sa kanilang pag-uusap, nag-iingles and sundalo,
nagkaka-pampangan si Miss Yeyeng, kaya napilitan siyang mag-aral.

(4) Pagkaraan ng ilang buwan, nagsasalita na ng Ingles si Miss Yeyeng. Paglipas ng walong buwan, sa
amuki ng gurong kawal, ipinahatid siya sa isang bayang kung siya pinagturo.

(5) Noong nagtuturo doon, pinahanga niya ang taumbayan dahil nakikita niyang mas marunong sya
ng Ingles kaysa sa kanila.
(6) Ganyan lumipas ang panahon. Halos hindi na nagsalita si Miss Yeyeng ng Kapampangan dahil
sabi niya ay nakalimutan na niya. Matigas daw ang Kapampangan at nababaluktot ang kanyang dila,
kaya kailan man hindi na siya makapagsalita nang tuwid at nauutal siya.

(7) Nagkalabitan ang mga maalam na nakakakilala sa kanya pagkarinig nito. Pinalitan tuloy ang
kanyang pangalan at pinangalanan siya ng matunog at umaalingasaw na “Miss Phathupats”,
pangalang hango sa malapad niyang balakang na pilit na iniipit sa pahang mahigpit na ginagamit
niya, kaya ala siyang iniwan sa patupat o suman sa ibus na mahigpit and balot.

(8) Magmula noon ito ang pangalang ibinansag sa kanya at nakalimutan nilang tuluyan and Yeyeng,
ang malambing niyang palayaw. Ang Miss Phathupats ang naging palasak.

(9) Ganito nang ganito ang buhay. Hindi nagtagal lumabas ang Ing Emangabiran, pahayagang
kapampangan sa Bacolor. Sa isang pista o belada sa bayang X, na kung saan dumalo si Miss
Phathupats, binabasa ito. Lumapit siya, ngunit nang makita na Kapampangan ang binabasa, lumabi
ng kunti, umiling at nagsabi.

(10) “Mi no entiende el Pampango”

(11) “Mi no entiende ese Castellano, Miss,” sabi naman ng isang susut, ginaya ang kanyang tono.

(12) Napangiti lahat ng nasa umpukan: at sapagkat may pinag-aralan sila, hindi na nila ipinakita ang
pagkaaliw nila sa binibini. At ito namang babae kahit alam na parang tinutukso na siya ay nagpatuloy
din at ang sabi:

(13) “Sa katunayan, totoong nahihirapan na akong bumigkas ng Kapampangan lalo na kung binabasa
ko.”

(14) Dito sa iilang salitang binigkas niya, sumama lahat ang iba’t ibang wika ng talasalitaang bulgar ng
Ingles, Kastila. Tagalog na pinaghalu-halo niya ang walang kawawaan. Hindi na nakapagpigil ang
mga nakarinig; napatawa sila nang malakas.

(15) Nagalit si Miss Phathupats, hinarap ang mga tumatawa at sabi niya:
(16) “Porque reir?”
(17) “Por el tsampurado, miss,” sabi ng unang sumagot.

(18) Lalong lumakas and halakhak ng mga nakikinig at nag-init and pakiramdam ni Miss Phathupats.
(19) Isa sa mga nakatayo ang nagsabi ng ganito.

(20) “Hindi kayo dapat magtaka kung hindi na marunong ng Kapampangan si Miss Phathupats: Una,
dahil matagal na siyang nakisama sa mga kawal na Americano: pangalawa, hindi na siya
kapampangan, katunayan Miss Phathupats ang kanyang pangalan.

(21) Noon na sumabog ang bulkan. Putok na ubod nang lakas, sumabog ang kaldero ni Miss
Phatuphats at mula sa bunganga niyang naglalawa lumabas ang lagablab ng Vesubiyo o ang lahat ng
maruruming salita sa Kapampangan, bigla niyang pinagsama-sama sa nag-aapoy na bunganga.

(22) “Walang hiya! Magnanakaw! Taga-lason! Anak!” sabi sa tinaguriang wikang Kapampangan.

(23) “Aba, Kapampangan pala siya!” sabi ng mga nakarinig.

(24) “Oo, hindi ba ninyo alam?” sabi ng nakakakilala sa kanya. “Anak siya ni Matandang Godiung
Pakbong na aking kanayon”.

(25) Napahalakhak nang malakas ang mga nanonood. Napaiyak na si Miss Phathupats at sa
pagpupunas sa kanyang tumutulong luha sumama ang makapal niyang pulbos sa pisngi. Lumitaw ang
likas niyang kulay, maitim pa siya sa duhat. Nang makita ito ng mga nanonod lalo na silang napatawa
at nagsabi:

(26) “Aba! Maitim pala siya!”

(27) “Oo, Americanang Negra siya!”

(28) Sigawan, palakpak, halakhakan ang narinig noon. Hindi na nakatiis si Miss Phathupats.
Nagkandarapa sa paglabas sa daan at sabi niya:

(29) “Mi no vuelva en esta casa.”

(30) “Paalam, Miss na hindi marunong ng Kapampangan!”
(31) “Paalam, Miss Alice Roosevelt!”
(32) “Paalam, Miss Phathupats!”

(33) Ganyan siya pinagtulung-tulungan, at ang kawawang Yeyeng ay umalis na bubulung-bulong na

parang ulol.

(34) Napakarami ng mga Miss Phatuphats sa panahon ngayon. Hindi na sila marunong ng
Kapampangan o ikinakahiya na nila ang Kapampangan dahil nakapagsalita na sila ng Ingles na
tsampurado

ACTIVITY 4: Create a 5-minute video presentation that focuses on “Being the True
You”.

Rubric for Video Presentation

CRITERIA Excellent Very Good Good (6) Fair (4) Poor (2)
(10) (8)
The video focuses on
one’s true identity.
The layout of video clips,
graphics, texts, and
audio are organized,
clear, and well thought
out.
The video is within the
time limit.
The video follows the
overall guidelines.
NCR- NATIONAL CAPITAL REGION
Manila is a major hub for cultural events and it houses many museums, theatres and art centres.
The city hosts a plethora of events involving around music, movies, art or traditional holidays. There
is a huge western influence in the culture and lifestyle of the people of Manila in terms of technology,
music, movies and fashion. Christmas is an important holiday in Manila. Celebrations start as early as
October and continue all the way till January. Other religious celebrations include the Flores de Mayo,
the Feast of the Black Nazarene and more. Manila also has its own version of the Cannes film Festival
in November called Cinemalaya. Manila Day is a public holiday on 24th June honouring the origin of
the city, as each distinct throws its own fiesta. Filipino food comprises of rice, meats, seafood, egg and
vegetables packed with flavour and spice.

ANG BANGKANG PAPEL

(GENOVEVA EDROZA MATUTE, 1952)

Nagkjkatuwaan ang mga bata sa pagtatampisaw sa baha. Ito ang pinakahihintay nilang araw mula
nang magkasunod-sunod ang pag-ulan. Alam nilang kapag iyo’y nagpatuloy sa loob ng tatlong araw,
ang lansangang patungo sa laruan ay lulubog. At ngayon, ay ikalimang araw ng walang tigil ang pag-
ulan.
Ilang maliliit na bata ang nagpapalutang ng mga bangkang papel, nariyang tinatangay ng tubig,
naroong sinasalpok at inilulubog, nariyang winawasak.
Sa tuwi akong makakikita ng bangkang papel ay nagbabalik sa aking gunita ang isang batang
lalaki. Isang batang lalaking gumawa ng tatlong malalaking bangkang papel na hindi niya napalutang
sa tubig kailanman…
Isang batang lalaking nagising isang gabi sa mga dagundong na nakakagulat. Sa loob ng ilang
saglit, ang akala niya’y Bagong Taon noon. Gayon ding malalakas na ugong ang natatandaan niyang
sumasalubong sa Bagong Taon. Ngunit pagkalipas ng ilan pang saglit, nagunita niyang noon ay
walang maiingay na pumapatak mula sa kanilang bubungan.
Sa karimla’y pinalaki niya ang dalawang mata. Wala siyang makitang ano man maliban sa isang
makitid na silahis. Hindi niya malamankung alin ang dagundong na biglang pumuno sa bahay o
biglang pagliliwanag. Gulilat siyang nagbalikwas at hinanap nang paningin ang kanyang ina.
Nagsunod-sunod ang tila malalaking batong gumugulong sa kanilang bubungan. Ang paggulong
ng mga iyo’y sinasaliwan ng pagliliwanag at pagdidilim ng bahay, ng pagliliwanag na muli.
Samantala’y patuloy ang pagbuhos ng ulan sa kanilang bubungan, sa kanilang paligid, sa lahat ng
dako.
Muling nahiga ang nagbalikwas at ang tinig niya ay pinapaglos sa karimlan.
“Inay, umuulan, ano?”
“Oo, anak, kangina,” anang tinig mula sa dulo ng hihigan.
“Inay,” ang ulit niya sa karimlan, “dumating na ba ang Tatay?” Sumagot ang tinig ngunit hindi
niya maunawaan. Kaya’t itinaas niya nang bahagya ang likod at humilig sa kaliwang bisig. Sa kanyang
tabi’y naroon ang kapatid na si Miling. Sa tabi nito’y nabanaagan niya ang katawan ng ina, at sa kabila
naman nito’y nakita niya ang banig na walang tao.
Ibinaba niya ang likod at iniunat ang kaliwang bisig. Naramdaman niya ang sigid ng lamig sa
kanyang buto. Mula sa binabalot na katawan ni Miling ay hinila niya ang kumot at ito’y itinakip sa
sariling katawan. Bahagyang gumalaw ang kapatid, pagkatapos ay nagpatuloy sa hindi pagkilos.
Naawa siya kay Milling kaya’t ang kalahati ng kumot ay ibinalot sa katawan niyon at siya’y
namaluktot sa nalabing kalahati.
Naramdaman niya ang panunuot ng lamig sa kanyang likod. Inilabas niya ang kanang kamay sa
kumot at kinapa ang banig hanggang sa maabot niya ang sahig.
Anong lamig sa sahig, ang naisip niya, at ang kanang kamay ay dali-daling ipinasok muli sa
kumot. “Inay,” ang tawag niyang muli, “bakit wala pa si Tatay? Anong oras na ba?” “Ewan ko,” ang
sagot ng kanyang ina. “Matulog ka na, anak, at buaks ay magpapalutang ka ng mga bangkang ginawa
mo, hindi ba?.” Natuwa ang bata sa kanyang narinig. Magkakarerahan kami ng bangka ni Milling, ang
aki’y
malalaki’t matitibay…hindi masisira ng tubig. Dali-dali siyang nagbangon at pakapa-kapang sumiksik
sa pagitan ng kapatid at ng kanyang kausap. Idinaan niya ang kanyang kamay sa pagitan ng baywang
at bisig ng ina. Naramdaman niya ang bahagyang pag-aangat ng kaliwang bisig niyon. Ang kanang
kamay noo’y ipinatong sa kanyang ulo at pabulong na nagsalita.
“Siya, matulog ka na.” Ngunit ang bata’y hindi makatulog. Mula sa malayo’y naririnig niya ang
hagibis ng malakas na hangin. At ang ulang tangay-tangay niyon.
“Marahil ay hindi na uuwi ang Tatay ngayong gabi,” ang kanyang nasabi. Naalala niyang may mga
gabing hindi umuuwi ang kanyang ama.
“Saan natutulog ang Tatay kung hindi siya umuuwi rito?” ang tanong niya sa kanyang ina. Ngunit
ito’y hindi sumagot. Sinipat niya ang mukha upang alamin kung nakapikit na ang kanyang ina. Ngunit
sa karimlan ay hindi niya makita. Bago siya tuluyang nakalimot, ang kahuli-hulihang larawan sa
kanyang balintataw ay ito. Tatlong malalaking bangkang yari sa papel na inaanod ng baha sa kanilang
tapat…
At samantalang pumapailanlang sa kaitaasan ang kahuli-hulihang pangarap ng batang yaon, ang
panahon ay patuloy sa pagmama-sungit. Ang munting bahay na pawid ay patuloy sa pagliliwanag at
pagdidilim, sa pananahimik at pag-uumugong, sa pagbabanta ng walang awang hampas ng hangin at
ulan…
Ang kinabukasan ng pagtatampisaw at pagpapaanod ng mga bangkang papel ay dumating…
Ngunit kakaibang kinabukasan.
Pagdilat ng inaantok pang batang lalaki ay nakita niyang nag-iisa siya sa hihigan. Naroon ang
kumot at unan ni Miling at ng kanyang ina.
Pupungas-pungas siyang bumangon. Isang kamay ang dumantay sa kanyang balikat at nang
magtaas ng paningin ay nakitang yao’y si Aling Berta, ang kanilang kapitbahay.
Hindi niya maunawaan ang tingin noong tila naawa. Biglang-biglang naparam ang nalalabi pang
antok. Gising na gising ang kanyang ulirat. Naroon ang asawa ni Aling Berta, gayon din sina Mang
Pedring, si Aling Ading, si Feli, si Turing, at si Pepe. Nakita niyang ang kanilang bahay ay halos
mapuno ng tao.
Nahihintakutang mga mata ang humanap kay Miling at sa ina. Sa isang sulok, doon nakita ng
batang lalaki ang kanyang ina na nakalikmo sa sahig. Sa kanyang kandungan ay nakasubsob si Miling.
At ang buhok nito ay walang tigil na hinahaplus-haplos ng kanyang ina.
Ang mukha ng kanyang ina ay nakita ng batang higit na pumuti kaysa rati. Ngunit ang mga mata
noo’y hindi pumupikit, nangakatingin sa wala.
Patakbo siyang lumapit sa ina at sunod-sunod ang kanyang pagtatanong. “Bakit, Inay, ano ang
nangyari? Ano ang nangyari, Inay? Bakit maraming tao rito?”
Ngunit tila hindi siya narinig ng kausap. Ang mga mata noo’y patuloy sa hindi pagkisap. Ang
kamay noo’y patuloy sa paghaplos sa buhok ni Miling.
Nagugulumihanang lumapit ang bata kina Mang Pedring at Aling Feli. Ang pag-uusap nila’y
biglang natigil nang siya’y makita. Wala siyang narinig kundi… “Labinlimang lahat ang nangapatay…”
Hindi niya maunawaan ang lahat. Ang pagdami ng tao sa kanilang bahay. Ang anasan. Ang ayos
ng kanyang ina. Ang pag-iyak ni Aling Feli nang siya’y makita.
Sa pagitan ng mga hikbi, siya ay nagpatuloy sa pagtatanong… “Bakit po? Ano po iyon?” Walang
sumagot sa kanya. Lahat nang lapitan niya’y nanatiling pinid ang labi. Ipinapatong ang kamay sa
kanyang balikat o kaya’y hinahaplos ang kanyang buhok at wala na.
Hindi niya matandaan kung gaano katagal bago may nagdatingan pang mga tao. “Handa na ba
kayo?” anang isang malakas ang tinig.
“Ngayon din ay magsialis na kayo. Kayo’y ihahatid ni Kapitan Sidro sa pook na ligtas. Walang
maiiwan, isa man. Bago lumubog ang araw sila’y papasok dito… Kaya’t walang maaaring maiwan.”
Matagal bago naunawaan ng bata kung ano ang nangyayari.
Sila’y palabas na sa bayan, silang mag-iina, ang lahat ng kanilang kapitbahay, ang maraming-
maraming tao, at ang kani-kanilang balutan.
 Sa paulit-ulit na salitaan, sa salimbayang pag-uusap ay nabatid niya ang ilang bagay. Sa
labinlimang nangapatay kagabi ay kabilang
ang kanyang ama…sa labas ng bayan…sa sagupaan ng mga kawal at taong-bayan.
Nag-aalinlangan, ang batang lalaki lumapit sa kanyang ina na mabibigat ang mga paa sa
paghakbang. “Inay, bakit pinatay ng mga kawal ang Tatay? Bakit? Bakit?” Matigas na lupa ay isang
saglit na lumapit sa kanyang mukha. Pagkatapos, sa isang tinig na marahang-marahan ay nagsalita.
“Iyon din ang nais kong malaman, anak iyon din ang nais kong malaman.” Samantala… Sa bawat
hakbang na palayo sa bahay na pawid at sa munting bukid na kanyang tahanan ay nadaragdagan ang
agwat ng ulila sa kanyang kabataan.
Ang gabing yaon ng nga dagundong at sigwa, ng mga pangarap na kinabukasan at ng mga
bangkang papel- ang gabing yaon ang kahuli-hulihan sa kabataang sansaglit lamang tumagal. Ang
araw na humalili’y tigib ng pangamba at ng mga katanungang inihahanap ng tugon.
Kaya nga ba’t sa tuwi akong makakikita ng bangkang papel ay nagbabalik sa aking gunita ang
isang batang lalaki. Isang batang lalaking gumawa ng tatlong malalaking bangkang papel na hindi
niya napalutang kailanman…

ACTIVITY 3: Write a letter to your parents or guardians expressing your love and
gratitude. Use a short bond paper for your letter. After writing, fold the paper to form a
boat. Give the paper boat to your parents or guardians. Video the unfolding and
responding of your parents or guardians to your letter.

Rubric for Activity 3

CRITERIA Excellent (10) Very Good Good Fair Poor
(8) (6) (4) (2)
The student creates a meaningful
letter.
The activity is presented in a
creative way.
The layout of video clips, graphics,
texts, and audio are organized,
clear, and well-thought out.
The video has an effective
beginning
The video has an effective ending.