Novel: A Glimpse on Ch. 1

A bugyung (nautilus shell) ensemble suddenly reverberated in the pine-scented air of Malaybalay. Those bugyung blowers must have done their breathing exercise, because it was still 7 in the morning, yet they were able to hold this one-syllabic undulating bass sound for 55 seconds...

"Mom, the Kaamulan Festival parade is about to begin," Laga said as she squeezed the hands of her mother-in-law...

"Thank, goodness! As much as I enjoy sitting on this grass-roofed platform, while entertained with all the excited faces and screams up and down the streets, I worry of all the stares by everybody. Well, I know they're not going to harm me, but goodness, gracious, why do many hit or push each other after waving at us?" ...

The parade assembled in Sumpong, right on top of the hill by Bethel Baptist Hospital. The huge make-shift platform where dignitaries and special guests have been seated is diagonally constructed, where the old Rubio's store was before, slightly facing the hill...

The red-clad men with feathered head gears started coming down the hill with their bugyung held closed to their chest. Probably, after 100 paces, they stopped. Like an army bugle corps, they extended their arms out together in a cadence, before they brought their bugyung onto their lips. Another prolonged blow engulfed the crowd. As the bugyung sounds faded, the blowers strutted around like fighting cocks, synchronous to the music of tagungtung (bamboo slit drum) ensemble. The strut ended with a sudden burst of "hey!" as they hoisted their bugyung over their head just as the one-beat sound of agung from an agung (gong) ensemble was heard...

So unfortunate that the mother-in-law's anxiety escalated to panic after the first group of street dancers passed by... A masked men got on the stage, whisked Laga and Michael and forced them to ride on a black SUV... The governor's wife, who was sitting beside her calmly said, "Don't worry, Mrs. Webb, you will see them safe and sound in a little while."

"Yes, tell me that! Killings and kidnappings in Mindanao have been off and on in California's televisions and newspapers."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Webb," Mercy, the governor's daughter, said, "you will see Laga and Michael in half an hour."

"I only will stop worrying if you'd stop calling me Mrs. Webb!"

John and Mercy embraced Mrs. Webb as tight as before.

And the parade in chapter 1 goes on and so is the story of THE PEACE CORPS VOLUNTEER'S WIFE: The Novel.



(Synopsis: The Peace Corps Volunteer's Wife is a story about the hurt caused by a polygamous relationship and the joy in interracial marriage. From a Philippine tribal village to the city of Pasadena, CA, Laga etched her way to overcome the harshest chapter of her life. Along the way, she not only helped others gain self-confidence, self-worth, and self-respect; she also supplied the missing pieces of the puzzle in Michael’s life.)

TRIBES, LANGUAGES, & DIALECTS: The Bukidnon Case

A minority language close to my heart is Binukid. This is one of the minor languages in the province of Bukidnon in southern Philippines. Other minor languages in the province are the Western Bukidnon Manobo, Tigwa Manobo, and Matigsalug. The lingua franca (major or trade language) in the region is Cebuano or Binisaya.

Even though there are only four minor languages in Bukidnon, several dialects exist. Let me give Binukid, which is my mother tongue, as a case in point.

Growing up, we, the Bukidnons in Barrio Casisang, always distinguished ourselves from other Binukid speakers. Distinctions were based on accent and some unintelligible words that were seldom used in Casisang. We distinguished ourselves from other Binukid speakers by not having a "sing-song" or rough speech pattern. The used of archaic Binukid words by other villages further contributed to our differences. Matter of fact those archaic words were the main barrier in communicating with those Bukidnons from outlying barrios.

Dr. Richard Elkins, my thesis mentor in early 80s and a linguistic anthropologist who interconnected several Philippine minor languages in a Proto-Manobo Theory (1964), told me that those from Casisang, Kalasungay, Sumpong,Impasug-ong, etc. are speaking the "asphalt" Binukid. This is a variation of a language (dialect) based on sociolect. It was well-said. These barrios are located along Sayre highway and many are highly literate.

Based on Morris Swadish word list there was no big difference of Casisang Binukid to the Binukid in outlying barrios. Nevertheless, the indifference amongst Binukid speakers created, more or less, a social divide. Interaction was affected.

Then came the PANAMIN, the Presidential Assistant for National Minorities, in the late 70s. This quasi-government agency was supposed to continue on with the program of the defunct Commission on National Integration (CNI). However, instead of integrating or unifying the Bukidnons, PANAMIN contributed to a permanent divide amongst Binukid speakers. Based on the geographical location (topolect/regiolect), PANAMIN sub-divided the Binukid speakers into the Higa-onon, Tala-andig and Bukidnon tribes.

Currently, we have these three recognized tribes. Their language is Binukid. Based on Binukid language, either one has the right to say that the languages used by the other tribes are dialects of their language. However, Binukid is NOT a dialect of Cebuano or Bisaya.

NOTE: So, what is an "artificial" language? Patricia mentioned, when we were guests on Channel 18, that Filipino is an artificial language. I will talk about that in my next blog.

BUKIDNON, MY HOME: Final Lyric from my End

Mga sulled ku:

Thank you very much to all of you who have interacted with me or responded to my call regarding the suggested revision of "Bukidnon, My Home".

Since several of you have requested if you could copy or sing the song using my suggested revision, I decided to pour more time onto it. It is my utmost desire to be as close as possible to the English version and be as dynamic, vis-a-vis to the current trends on migration, nationalism, fertility, land grabbers, etc.

Some of you have insinuated that you would like to help me on the revision by either doing a survey or interview. Hence, even though this is the final suggestion from my end, you could still send me your much needed comments and suggestions. Like you, I would love to have a provincial anthem that I really could be proud of.


"BUKIDNON, BANUWA KU"

Bisan pa hindu a
Lalag ku'g uli` a
Dini ta Bukidnon
Kanak ha banuwa
Buntod ha matangkaw,
Kalasan...makapal,
Patag ha malu-ag,
Na tungkay madagway.

Chorus:

Bukidnon ha banuwa ku
Dini ka ta pusung ku.
Langit nu bon kadagway,
Hadi ku agkalipatan.
Bukidnon ha bugta ku
Dakol sa goinawa nu.
Ka-uyagan, in-ila` nu,
Ngaran nu, hitindugan ku.

Note: I didn't touch the first stanza. Please refer to my previous blog, "Bukidnon, My Home: Revisited", for its English translation.

Now, here's the English translation of the chorus.

Bukidnon, my town/province.
You are here in my heart.
Your sky is so beautiful,
I never can forget.
Bukidnon, my land.
You have a big breath (love).
Means-of-living, you have given,
Your name, I will stand-for (protect).

Here's the chorus of the original Binukid version with its English back translation.

Bunturun, balalayan,
Basakan, kapatagan,
pastuhan, kapinyahan,
ba alan-alan ka-uyagan.
Langit din pig-aldawan,
piglambongan, pig-uranan,
sirungan, uranan.
ba alan-alan ka-uyagan.

Its English back translation:

Mountainous, hilly,
Rice paddy, plains,
Grassy-for-grazing, pineapple farm,
But all are means-of-living.
Its sky is sun-drenched,
laid-with-overcast, rained-on,
(?), to-be-rained-on
But all are means-of living.

I put a question mark as an English equivalent of "sirungan", because I really haven't heard this word but in this chorus. T.S. Sungkit, the author of the novel, "Batbat Hi Udan" commented about this word in my previous blog, "Bukidnon, My Home; Revisited". Check out my Feb. 15 blog.

And here's the English version.

BUKIDNON, MY HOME

Wherever I may roam
The distant land to see
I long to go back home
To sweet Bukidnon home
Her lovely mountains high
Her forest old and grand
Bring memories to me
The home I long to see.

Chorus:
There my heart, yearns to be
In far away, Bukidnon land.
Under its blue starry sky,
Where love and joy never die.
(Repeat)


By the way, Walter Balane, a local journalist and writes the blogs, "Istambay sa Mindanaw" and "Bukidnon Our Home", asked me on the lyricist of the original version and the date the song was written.

I really don't know. I have been singing the Binukid version even when I was still in the elementary. That was 50 years ago. Despite my old age, I never learned who wrote the song. I asked a few to do research on this, but I received nothing.

This is the best hunch that I can give you. It is very possible that an American Baptist missionary wrote the English version in the 1940s. Miss Little, the Atherton, the Kohler(?) are a few name that I can remember. Then, a Bukidnon was asked to write the Binukid text. I remembered my father, who grew up and studied with these American missionaries, when he told me that some of them were requested to help in the translation of English Christian songs to Binukid. He mentioned the name of Pastor Sinagda, Pastor Sinohon, or that long-time pastor of Can-ayan (whose name has eluded me, while writing this blog). Too bad, all of them have already passed. It couldn't be the Summer Institute of Linguistics (Nasuli), because SIL was invited to do language research and translation in the Philippines by Pres. Ramon Magsaysay in 1953.

Anyway, the old Binukid version is now a public domain. Besides, it's possible that there was no copyright law that time. It could have been great to acknowledge those who burned their midnight candles to come up with the Binukid lyric. So, whoever and wherever you are, THANK YOU for writing the Binukid lyric of "Bukidnon, My Home". You have given us, the sons and daughters of Bukidnon province, a pride worth remembering and sharing. However, with our access to modern science of linguistics and translation, hope it is alright with you for us to do some major revision of its chorus.

And to all present tagaBukidnons, feel free to copy, share, and sing this new translation in your social or official functions. I don't intend to copyright this. It is my humble contribution to the music and arts; the culture, in general, of Bukidnon.

Now, mga higala, it's time for you to send me your feedback. Is this revision better than the old one? Is the message closer to the English version?

Marakol tungkay ha salamat.

"BUKIDNON, MY HOME" REVISITED

Sorry guys, this special blog is going provincial, specifically intended for my fellow "tagaBukidnon". Promise, my weekend blog would be intended for global reading.

The topic, the song "Bukidnon, My Home", is very close to my heart. It's the official song of my province in so. Philippines. It has been written and sung in both English and Binukid, my mother tongue; however, the Binukid lyric has been problematic. With my serious intention to include the song in my book project, BEDTIME-PASTIME (Kalanganan dun hu Ikam): Collections of Short Stories and Folktales, I decided to rewrite its Binukid chorus. So, mga sulled ku, mga migo ug miga, please give me your feedback.

Reasons behind this rewrite:
1) The Binukid lyric is too specific and it doesn't jibe (sorry for colloquialism)with the English lyric. Good translation needs to be idiomatic and must not be out of context. What we have now is purely a free, free, free translation.
2) One word in some online postings is so foreign to me. I have not heard such word since birth. Yes, my mother tongue is Binukid. It is my first language. Nevertheless, I am not too narrow-minded. I know pretty well that language is dynamic; thus, it changes over time. Maybe the word is archaic. It has not been used right after the song was put into music. I bald already...breathing more than half a century. Hence, Bukidnon, My Home, could have been written 20 years before I was born. Following Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, some linguist-anthropologists believe that 19 % of basic vocabulary changes every one thousand years. Maybe, such Binukid term was one of them, but it is too far-fetched.
3) Measures in the Binukid chorus is more than what we have in English. If we sing the Binukid counterpart without repeating it, the lyric is short of two measures.
4) In some postings, the orthography is problematic also.

So, here's my rewrite of the Binukid chorus. I tried my best to stay close to the English lyric. Also, I tried to relate it to the content of its first stanza.

"BUKIDNON, BANUWA KU"

Bisan pa hindu a
Lalag ku'g uli` a
Dini ta Bukidnon
Kanak ha banuwa
Buntod ha matangkaw,
Kalasan...makapal,
Patag ha malu-ag,
Na tungkay madagway.

Cho:

Bukidnon ha banuwa ku,
Imu man sa pusong ku.
Ga-id man ta madagway
Sa langit nu ko daloman.
Bukidnon ha banuwa ku,
Angati a; ag-uli` a."
Sa kalipay ha in-ila nu
Hadi ku agkalipatan.(Or "hadi iyan agkamatay.)

(English translation of chorus)

Bukidnon, my town,
My heart is yours.
Maybe because your sky
Is beautiful(even) at night.
Bukidnon, my town,
Wait for me; I am coming home.
The happiness you have given me
I (just) can't forget.(or It, indeed, will not die.)

(The current Binukid Chorus)

Bunturun, balalayan, basakan,
kapatagan, pastuhan, kapinyahan,
ba alan-alan ka-uyagan.
Langit din pig-aldawan,
piglambongan, pig-uranan,
ba alan-alan ka-uyagan.

(The English Chorus)

There my heart, yearns to be
In far away, Bukidnon land.
Under its blue starry sky,
Where love and joy never die.
(Repeat)


Please note that I have no problem keeping the original Binukid chorus, even if it's way off it's English counterpart. However, I wanted to sing it without humming a couple of measures before singing the last phrase. Any feedback is highly appreciated, so shoot it out. And please inform your family and friends in Bukidnon to check out this rewrite.

Thank you, guys.


NOTE:

Most of my readers have been sending me comments through facebook and email. You can do the same. Here's my email: edMindustan@gmail.com

Salamat tungkay.

A Folktale Blog

I would like to thank all those who sent me messages through email and facebook in response to my short story blog. A couple mistook it as an awful folktale, probably because of its title; probably because I mentioned that it was a juvenile. Others commented against too much non-English words and phrases that made it cumbersome to read through. One from Finland politely said that because he's feeling down, he didn't finish reading it. (Bless your heart, my dear friend. LOL) Others considered it as a good or 'very cool' short story, which could still be improved. One thing I appreciated most was the suggestion on how to improve it. The text that I posted was an early draft to encourage my friends and the readers to send in their comments. And promise, the final manuscript have minimal 'vernaculars' (most would still be printed as endnotes), and the story is more cohesive and evocative.

Since some mistook "The Magical Mat" as a folktale, I am posting one of the folktales in my book project, "Bedtime-Pastime: Collections of Short Stories and Bukidnon Folktales. Again, your comments are appreciated. So, please send them in.

Thanks guys.

THE MAIDEN AND THE SKY

Edmund Melig Industan

(A very common cosmological folktale narrated through the eyes of an observer.)


“Imagine a Laga (maiden). She has a nigu (winnower). She balances it on her head. She is flirting with the wind as she pertly swings her hip left and right, walking briskly toward the wooden mortar,” my mother, who was a grade school teacher, introduced differently the most common cosmological story of our tribe.

The children, who were sitting on the mat, which my mom spread out on the floor in front of her, laughed. They squeezed tightly like a canned sardine, but immediately quieted down, to let my mother go on with the story.

“It was very late in the day. The world would soon to be pitch black. Her family, who went to the river to fish, would soon be coming home. She needed to cook the rice; the soonest, the better,” my mom paused, calmly sat on a chair, glanced outside before she looked at the children.

“See, Laga was not a typical Bukidnon maiden. She was pretty than anybody else and her body was curved as a bottle of coke. She also was the fairest. Even the frogs would crook if they would see her walking. How could she not have a fair skin when she just wanted to stay inside their bark-walled hut, stringing hundreds of colorful beads on a thin silvery twined manila hemp, while her friends and family were out either in the field, in the river, or in the forest to gather food? She also was the tallest that, if she would jump an arm-length off the ground, she could already hit the sky. Why? Because during her time, the sky was still real low, very close to the ground. Another thing with Laga was that…she always wore her ruggedly etched crescent bamboo comb and her heavy colorful necklace made from hundreds of neatly strung beads,” my mother said as she showed a bamboo comb and a bead necklace.

The kids were all ears. A pin would probably be heard by everybody if someone drops it on the school’s cement floor.

“Upon reaching the wooden mortar, she tilted the winnower to pour the dried golden unshelled rice three-quarter of the mortar’s hole. Then, she put the oblong winnower on the ground and picked up the wooden pestle, which was a little bit shorter than her height. But Laga was afraid to break her newly finished necklace from constant body quivers while pounding the rice! So…she took it off. She also took the comb off,” my mother said with hands in animation. “But she also was afraid that the chicken and the pig that always lurk around indiscriminately would pick and snort the comb and the necklace! So…she placed them at the other end of the pestle, hoisted the pestle, and glued the comb and the necklace, one at a time, onto the sky.”

“Hala ka! (Oh, goodness!),” many of the girls exclaimed as they slightly flinched their shoulders and covered their mouths with their hands. The boys laughed at their reaction to the story.

“S-h-h-h-h-h!” my mother pressed her right index finger onto her lips as she looked at all of them. “Listen to this,” she whispered, her hand glided on to her right cheek. Then, when she already has all the children’s attention back, she resumed onto her normal tone. “Laga started pounding the rice: thump……thump……thump… thump……thump……Thump…thump….thump…Thump! The maiden gently pounded the rice to avoid spilling. Then, Thump…thump…THUMP! Thump….thump….THUMP! Thump….thump….THUMP! Laga maintained that regular pestle sound for several minutes, intermittently interrupted by “TOK!” as she tapped the side of the wooden mortar to level off the rice. As more grains were unshelled and not so jumpy anymore, Laga got excited and gradually pounded the rice harder. Thump…Thump…THUMP! Thump…Thump….THUMP! Faster and harder: Thump! Thump! THUMP! TOK! Thump! Thump! THUMP! TOK!” My mother paused for a couple of seconds and she hushed, “The maiden forgot her comb and her necklace. She forgot how low the sky was. Mesmerized with the sing-song of the mortar and the pestle; harder the pestle went. BUT to do that, she had to lift the pestle higher. AND THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! TOK! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! Finally, she stopped; wiped her forehead with her knuckles, winced, put her hands on her hip, stretched, and flexed backward. ‘Whoa!’ she exclaimed, eyes wide opened. She saw the sky so high already. She tried to reach for her comb and necklace, with the use of the wooden pestle, but the pestle was not long enough. She jumped high and swung the pestle hard. She hit the comb and the necklace, but…she hit them so hard that the necklace snapped scattering the beads all over the sky.”

“And that’s the reason…” my mom looked at all the children smiling as she prolonged the last sound of the last syllable.

“…why the sky has the moon and the stars at night!” the girls completed my mom’s sentence in chorus.

The boys stood up together and in unison said, "THE END!”

My mom smiled. All the children got up. They were laughing and clapping as they went back to their desks. Two of the girls stayed behind to roll the two mats; each looked like 3-arm length suman (SEW-man), a rolled rice cake wrapped with a strip of banana leaf.

“Now, the two of you must have to show me how Laga tried to reach for her bamboo comb and bead necklace,” my mom told the two girls in order to wrap up the story time.

The girls smiled, held the two rolled mat on one end, and started jumping as high as they can to tap the ceiling all the way to the back corner of their classroom, as the others clapped their hands.