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.
