Myths, Legends and Folklore From NIR

Legends:

The Legend Of Dumaguete

     The story dates back to the distant past. It was the glorious and chivalrous time of the Spanish senores and the Moros. Now, the moros plundering the neighboring islands, abducting the women and the children, who, were told, were being ground and minted into money and gold by the Moros. These plundering grew very intense in some nearby islands and there were terrible rumors that these moros were coming to Dumaguete. It was not called ”dumaguete” then. The people were concerned and they prayed hard for protection. The families gathered at night to pray to the nuestra senora and to santa catalina to deliver them from this danger. The people had the special devotion to santa catalina and santa plight, she was swift I giving them her protection.

      Santa catalina was known to have a stalwart and a military woman. Every time the moros intended invading the island she would send a swarm of of bees to cover the whole place, so that it would be seen from a far as a big cloud, swallowing the island into the bosom of the horizon; so the moros could not find the island.

The Legend of Bayawan

     The Maragtas Legend tells us, that in the 12th century, ten (10) Bornean datus or chieftains left their homeland in the island of Borneo. In order to escape the cruel tyranny of their king, Sultan Makatunaw, they sailed towards the north in their long boats called “balang-hais or barangays.” They landed on the island of Panay, in order to live a life of unrestricted freedom.

      The ten (10) Bornean datus or chieftains were led by Datu Puti. They bought the island of Panay from Datu Marikudo, the native chieftains of the Aetas or Negritos. For Panay Island, they paid Datu Marikudo with one (1) golden salakot (head gear), and one (1) gold necklace for his wife Maniwantiwan. The Aetas or Negritos then went to live in the mountains.

     After the purchase of Panay, it was divided among three (3) Bornean chieftains, namely: Datu Sumakwel for Hamtik now Antique; Datu Bankaya for Aklan-Capiz; and Datu Paiburong for Irong-irong now Iloilo. Datu Puti and the rest of the Bornean Chieftains left for Luzon.

     Population increased mostly in the Siruwagan area, presently located in San Joaquin, Iloilo, were most of the Borneans settled down.

     And so, families from the tribes of Labing-isog and Mangwalis decided to settle elsewhere in Negros. They sailed in their long boats, and followed the course of the rising sun.

     They landed on a place which they immediately called “Bayawan” because of the thick growth of a species of giant grass or tall reeds on this place, known to them in their native dialect as “tigbawan”.

Myths:

Hundred Islands: Myth Of A Hundred Promiscuity

     One of the myths told of the Hundred Islands in Alaminos, Pangasinan is a tragic story about a hundred promiscuous men who started out right but ended up wrong.

     A seafaring people of a coastal town in the north, the myth says, were brave and industrious men. They were also devoted husbands and fathers who cared well for their wives and families, and were legendary in their strict adherence to the town code of being one-woman men. The myth goes on that because of their exceptional marital faithfulness, one day they were divinely endowed with a tremendous power to overcome any sea disaster or calamity.

     So daily, whatever the mood of the sea, the myth tells of every brave fisherman from the town of Ala-manos, young and old, going out at dawn and coming back in the afternoon with an astounding catch. Fish supply was aplenty. Even with the stockpile being sold to nearby towns, leftovers were still abundant and exported overseas.

     The myth says that when the seas were high and rough and fish was scarce, fishermen of other adjacent coastal towns found fishing difficult; but not Ala-manos fishermen. Regardless of the sea condition, they brought home tons of fish daily and nothing untoward happened to any of them in the sea—all 100 fishing boats. The supernatural exploits reached the ears of the towns nearby and soon it was believed that Ala-manos fishermen worked “with the hands” of “Bathala” or God, the myth adds.

     With more fish supply came more fortune, more so when the other towns faced fish scarcity. But the myth points out that with more wealth the men of Ala-manos became lax on their avowed marital faithfulness and soon had concubines from neighboring towns. The thing became scandalously unmitigated, until one day, when the 100 boats had set out to sea on a stormy morning, roaring angry waves swallowed them up in an instant. No boat returned that afternoon. Daily the families would wait on the shore for a sign of the boats, to no avail.

     One morning, the people of Ala-manos saw 100 new islands on the sea. Bathala warned them that each time an unfaithful fisherman sets out to sea, another island would be added until the sea was no more. Since then, Ala-manos men became more faithful husbands, the myth concludes.

     This myth shows that it’s not lack of wealth that’s really the problem, but what wealth could do to its possessor.

The Myth about the Lanzones Fruit

     Lanzones are local berry-like fruits with light brown skin. The fruit itself is white inside. When ripe enough they have a subtle sweetness that tantalizes the taste buds and make them want to sample for more. But according to a local myth, it used to be a harmful fruit.

     Before, according to the myth, the lanzones fruit was poisonous. The fruit looked edible enough, and in fact many were tempted to sample it. The myth says, the people wondered: How could anything that looked so good be so dangerous? Some people, despite the death toll, could not fight off the temptation once they see the fruits abundantly display themselves in clusters hanging invitingly on the lanzones tree. Several deaths in the village had been linked to eating its fruits, the myth adds.

     One day, the myth says, a hungry old woman came to the village begging for food. The kind villagers gladly gave the old woman food and water and clothes to wear. They even offered her free lodging as long as she saw the need to stay with them. According to the myth, the woman was awed by the kindness of the villagers. One day, while staying with the people, she learned about the lanzones fruits that could not be eaten because they were poisonous. She asked the people where the tree was. They gladly obliged. Then, according to the myth, upon seeing the lanzones tree and its fruits, the old woman smiled knowingly. She announced to the people that the fruit was edible, to everyone’s wary delight.

      She taught the villagers the proper way to pick, peel and eat the fruits of the lanzones tree. According to the myth, the old woman said that peeling the fruit by pinching it lets out a small amount of the white sticky sap from the fruit, and that served as an antidote to the poison of the fruit. Then, the myth says, she did it with a fruit and ate it. She did the same with another fruit, and another, and another. The myth says the villagers also discovered for themselves that the fruits were very edible and delicious. Since then, the villagers started planting more lanzones trees and it became a very lucrative source of income for everyone, the myth adds.

     The Philippine myth on the lanzones tree and fruit reminds us that there is a proper procedure for doing things, even things untried before, to end up with a safe outcome.

Folklores:

Catalina of Dumaguete

     This is a legend of Dumaguete, the capital of the province of Negros Occidental. From this town can be seen five islands, viz., Negros, Cebu, Bohol, Mindanao, and Siquijor.

There is no one on the great island of Negros who does not love the name of Catalina. Even the wild mountain men speak it with respect, and down in the coast towns at night, when the typhoon is lashing the waters of Tanon Strait, and the rain and wind make the nipa leaves on the roofs dance and rattle, the older people gather their little black-eyed grandchildren around the shell of burning cocoanut oil and tell them her story.

     Many years ago there lived in Dumaguete a poor tuba seller named Banog, who made his daily rounds to the houses just as the milkman does in far-off America. But instead of a rattling wagon he had only a long bamboo from which he poured the drink, and in place of sweet milk he left the sap of the cocoanut tree.

     The bad custom of mixing tungud, a kind of red bark, with the sap, and thus making of it a strong liquor, had not yet been known, so Banog, though poor, was respected, and the people tried in every way to help him and his daughter Catalina.

     Catalina was a beautiful girl of sixteen and very good and industrious, but with many strange ways. She scarcely ever spoke a word and spent most of her time in looking out over the sea. Sometimes she would suddenly stand erect and, clasping her hands, would remain for a long time looking up at the sky as if she saw something that no one else could see. On account of these strange manners the people thought her a wonderful girl and she was supposed to have mysterious powers.

      One day many ships came up from the island of Mindanao and hundreds of fierce Moros landed. Shouting and waving their terrible knives, they fell upon the peaceful people and killed many, among them poor Banog. Then they robbed and burned the houses and, seizing all the women they could find, set sail for their great southern island. Among the prisoners was Catalina. With her eyes fixed on the sky she sat very quiet and still in the bow of one of the boats, and though her companions spoke often to her she made no reply.

      Suddenly she sprang into the water and a wonderful thing occurred, for, instead of sinking, she walked lightly over the waves toward the distant shore. The Moros were so astonished that they did not try to stop her and she reached the land safely.

     Many people who had hidden in the forests ran out to meet her but she spoke to no one. With her eyes still fixed above she walked through the burning town and along the road to Dalugdug, the Thunder mountain, that lies behind Dumaguete.

     On Dalugdug there lived a terrible Sigbin. Its body was like that of a monstrous crow, but just under its neck were two long legs like those of a grasshopper, which enabled it to leap great distances without using its wings. It ate any one who came near its home, so when the people saw Catalina start to climb the mountain they begged her to come back. She paid no heed to their cries, however, but went up higher and higher, till her white dress seemed merely a speck on the mountain side.

     All at once she seemed to stop and raise her hands. Then a fearful shriek was heard, and the fierce Sigbin came rushing down the mountain. It appeared to be greatly frightened, for it took tremendous leaps and screamed as if in terror. Over the heads of the people it jumped, and, reaching the shore, cleared the narrow channel and disappeared among the mountains of the island of Cebu.

     When the people saw that the Sigbin had gone they ran up the mountain and searched everywhere for Catalina, but they could find no trace of her. Sorrowfully they returned to their homes and busied themselves in building new houses and in making their town beautiful once more.

     Several years passed in peace and then again the Moro boats came up from Mindanao. The men hurriedly gathered on the beach to meet them, and the women and children hid in the cocoanut groves.

      This time the Moros had no quick and easy victory, for the Visayans, armed with bolos and remembering their lost wives and sisters, fought furiously, and for a time drove the enemy before them. But more Moro boats arrived and numbers told against the defenders. Slowly but surely they fell fighting until but a few remained.

Suddenly a bridge of clouds unfolded from Dalugdug to the town, and across it came the lost Catalina holding a beehive in her hands. Then she spoke and thousands of bees flew from the hive to the ground. Again she spoke and waved her hand, and the bees changed into little black men with long sharp spears, who charged the Moros and killed every one of them.

      Then Catalina, the hive still in her hand, went back over the bridge and disappeared once more in the mountain.

      The people came out of their hiding places, crowding around the little black men and questioning them, but they received no answer. Instead the little warriors gathered together and ran into the forest and up the mountain side, where they were soon lost to view.

      Such is the story of Catalina, Since that time Dumaguete has been safe from the Moros. The Sigbin has never returned to Negros. It still lives in the mountains of Cebu and the people are so afraid of it that they lock themselves in their houses after dark and can hardly be induced to come out. Up in the mountains of Negros live the little black men. They are called Negritos and are very savage and wild.

The savior of Dumaguete still lives in Dalugdug and is worshiped by the people. And in the town, now grown into a big busy city, the old people for years to come will tell their grandchildren the story of Catalina.

The Tobacco of Harisaboqued

     A legend of the volcano of Canlaon on the island of Negros. It is told generally in Western Negros and Eastern Cebu. The volcano is still active, and smoke and steam rise from its crater.

     Long before the strange men came over the water from Spain, there lived in Negros, on the mountain of Canlaon, an old man who had great power over all the things in the earth. He was called Harisaboqued, King of the Mountain.

     When he wished anything done he had but to tap the ground three times and instantly a number of little men would spring from the earth to answer his call. They would obey his slightest wish, but as he was a kind old man and never told his dwarfs to do anything wrong, the people who lived near were not afraid. They planted tobacco on the mountain side and were happy and prosperous,

     The fields stretched almost to the top of the mountain and the plants grew well, for every night Harisaboqued would order his dwarfs to attend to them, and though the tobacco was high up it grew faster and better than that planted in the valley below.

     The people were very grateful to the old man and were willing to do anything for him; but he only asked them not to plant above a line he had ordered his little men to draw around the mountain near the top. He wished that place for himself and his dwarfs.

     All obeyed his wish and no one planted over the line. It was a pretty sight to see the long rows of tobacco plants extending from the towns below far up to the line on the mountain side.

     One day Harisaboqued called the people together and told them that he was going away for a long time. He asked them again not to plant over the line, and told them that if they disregarded this wish he would carry all the tobacco away and permit no more to grow on the mountain side until he had smoked what he had taken. The people promised faithfully to obey him. Then he tapped on the ground, the earth opened, and he disappeared into the mountain.

     Many years passed and Harisaboqued did not come back. All wondered why he did not return and at last decided that he would never do so. The whole mountain side was covered with tobacco and many of the people looked with greedy eyes at the bare ground above the line, but as yet they were afraid to break their promise.

     At last one man planted in the forbidden ground, and, as nothing happened, others did the same, until soon the mountain was entirely covered with the waving plants. The people were very happy and soon forgot about Harisaboqued and their promise to him.

     But one day, while they were laughing and singing, the earth suddenly opened and Harisaboqued sprang out before them. They were very much frightened and fled in terror down the mountain side. When they reached the foot and looked back they saw a terrible sight. All the tobacco had disappeared and, instead of the thousands of plants that they had tended so carefully, nothing but the bare mountain could be seen.

     Then suddenly there was a fearful noise and the whole mountain top flew high in the air, leaving an immense hole from which poured fire and smoke.

     The people fled and did not stop until they were far away. Harisaboqued had kept his word.

     Many years have come and gone, but the mountain is bare and the smoke still rolls out of the mountain top. Villages have sprung up along the sides, but no tobacco is grown on the mountain. The people remember the tales of the former great crops and turn longing eyes to the heights above them, but they will have to wait. Harisaboqued is still smoking his tobacco.