CORDILLERA EPICS,

MYTHS AND FOLKTALES

 Aponibolinayen and the Sun
One day Aponibolinayen and her sister-in-law went out to gather greens. They walked to the woods to the
place where the siksiklat grew, for the tender leaves of this vine are very good to eat. Suddenly while
searching about in the underbrush, Aponibolinayen cried out with joy, for she had found the vine, and she
started to pick the leaves. Pull as hard as she would, however, the leaves did not come loose, and all at
once the vine wound itself around her body and began carrying her upward.

Far up through the air she went until she reached the sky, and there the vine set her down under a tree.
Aponibolinayen was so surprised to find herself in the sky that for some time she just sat and looked
around, and then, hearing a rooster crow, she arose to see if she could find it. Not far from where she had
sat was a beautiful spring surrounded by tall betel-nut trees whose tops were pure gold. Rare beads were
the sands of the spring, and the place where the women set their jars when they came to dip water was a
large golden plate. As Aponibolinayen stood admiring the beauties of this spring, she beheld a small
house nearby, and she was filled with fear lest the owner should find her there. She looked about for
some means of escape and finally climbed to the top of a betel-nut tree and hid.

Now the owner of this house was Ini-init,2 the Sun, but he was never at home in the daylight, for it was his
duty to shine in the sky and give light to all the world. At the close of the day when the Big Star took his
place in the sky to shine through the night, Ini-init returned to his house, but early the next morning he
was always off again.

From her place in the top of the betel-nut tree, Aponibolinayen saw the Sun when he came home at
evening time, and again the next morning she saw him leave. When she was sure that he was out of sight
she climbed down and entered his dwelling, for she was very hungry. She cooked rice, and into a pot of
boiling water she dropped a stick which immediately became fish,3 so that she had all she wished to eat.
When she was no longer hungry, she lay down on the bed to sleep.

Now late in the afternoon Ini-init returned from his work and went to fish in the river near his house, and
he caught a big fish. While he sat on the bank cleaning his catch, he happened to look up toward his
house and was startled to see that it appeared to be on fire. He hurried home, but when he reached the
house he saw that it was not burning at all, and he entered. On his bed he beheld what looked like a
flame of fire, but upon going closer he found that it was a beautiful woman fast asleep.

Ini-init stood for some time wondering what he should do, and then he decided to cook some food and
invite this lovely creature to eat with him. He put rice over the fire to boil and cut into pieces the fish he
had caught. The noise of this awakened Aponibolinayen, and she slipped out of the house and back to
the top of the betel-nut tree. The Sun did not see her leave, and when the food was prepared he called
her, but the bed was empty and he had to eat alone. That night Ini-init could not sleep well, for all the time
he wondered who the beautiful woman could be. The next morning, however, he rose as usual and set
forth to shine in the sky, for that was his work.

That day Aponibolinayen stole again to the house of the Sun and cooked food, and when she returned to
the betel-nut tree she left rice and fish ready for the Sun when he came home. Late in the afternoon Ini-
init went into his home, and when he found pots of hot rice and fish over the fire he was greatly troubled.
After he had eaten he walked a long time in the fresh air. Perhaps it is done by the lovely woman who
[9]looks like a flame of fire, he said. If she comes again I will try to catch her.

The next day the Sun shone in the sky as before, and when the afternoon grew late he called to the Big
Star to hurry to take his place, for he was impatient to reach home. As he drew near the house he saw
that it again looked as if it was on fire. He crept quietly up the ladder, and when he had reached the top he
sprang in and shut the door behind him.

Aponibolinayen, who was cooking rice over the fire, was surprised and angry that she had been caught;
but the Sun gave her betel-nut5 which was covered with gold, and they chewed together and told each
other their names. Then Aponibolinayen took up the rice and fish, and as they ate they talked together
and became acquainted.

After some time Aponibolinayen and the Sun were married, and every morning the Sun went to shine in
the sky, and upon his return at night he found his supper ready for him. He began to be troubled,
however, to know where the food came from, for though [10]he brought home a fine fish every night,
Aponibolinayen always refused to cook it.

One night he watched her prepare their meal, and he saw that, instead of using the nice fish he had
brought, she only dropped a stick into the pot of boiling water.

Why do you try to cook a stick? asked Ini-init in surprise.

So that we can have fish to eat, answered his wife.

If you cook that stick for a month, it will not be soft, said Ini-init. Take this fish that I caught in the net, for
it will be good.

But Aponibolinayen only laughed at him, and when they were ready to eat she took the cover off the pot
and there was plenty of nice soft fish. The next night and the next, Aponibolinayen cooked the stick, and
Ini-init became greatly troubled for he saw that though the stick always supplied them with fish, it never
grew smaller.

Finally he asked Aponibolinayen again why it was that she cooked the stick instead of the fish he brought,
and she said:

Do you not know of the woman on earth who has magical power and can change things?

Yes, answered the Sun, and now I know that you have great power.

Well, then, said his wife, do not ask again why I cook the stick.

And they ate their supper of rice and the fish which the stick made.

One night not long after this Aponibolinayen told her husband that she wanted to go with him the next day
when he made light in the sky.

Oh, no, you cannot, said the Sun, for it is very hot up there, and you cannot stand the heat.

We will take many blankets and pillows, said the woman, and when the heat becomes very great, I will
hide under them.

Again and again Ini-init begged her not to go, but as often she insisted on accompanying him, and early in
the morning they set out, carrying with them many blankets and pillows.

First, they went to the East, and as soon as they arrived the Sun began to shine, and Aponibolinayen was
with him. They traveled toward the West, but when morning had passed into noontime and they had
reached the middle of the sky Aponibolinayen was so hot that she melted and became oil. Then Ini-init put
her into a bottle and wrapped her in the blankets and pillows and dropped her down to earth.
Now one of the women of Aponibolinayens town was at the spring dipping water when she heard
something fall near her. Turning to look, she beheld a bundle of beautiful blankets and pillows which she
began to unroll, and inside she found the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Frightened at her
discovery, the woman ran as fast as she could to the town, where she called the people together and told
them to come at once to the spring. They all hastened to the spot and there they found Aponibolinayen for
whom they had been searching everywhere.

Where have you been? asked her father; we have searched all over the world and we could not find
you.

I have come from Pindayan, answered Aponibolinayen. Enemies of our people kept me there till I made
my escape while they were asleep at night

All were filled with joy that the lost one had returned, and they decided that at the next moon they would
perform a ceremony for the spirits8 and invite all the relatives who were mourning for Aponibolinayen.

So they began to prepare for the ceremony, and while they were pounding rice, Aponibolinayen asked her
mother to prick her little finger where it itched, and as she did so a beautiful baby boy popped out. The
people were very much surprised at this, and they noticed that every time he was bathed the baby grew
very fast so that, in a short time, he was able to walk. Then they were anxious to know who was the
husband of Aponibolinayen, but she would not tell them, and they decided to invite everyone in the world
to the ceremony that they might not overlook him. They sent for the betel-nuts that were covered with
gold,9 and when they had oiled them they commanded them to go to all the towns and compel the people
to come to the ceremony.

If anyone refuses to come, grow on his knee, said the people, and the betel-nuts departed to do as they
were bidden.

As the guests began to arrive, the people watched carefully for one who might be the husband of
Aponibolinayen, but none appeared and they were greatly troubled. Finally they went to the old woman,
Alokotan, who was able to talk with the spirits, and begged her to find what town had not been visited by
the betel-nuts which had been sent to invite the people. After she had consulted the spirits the old woman
said:

You have invited all the people except Ini-init who lives up above. Now you must send a betel-nut to
summon him. It may be that he is the husband of Aponibolinayen, for the siksiklat vine carried her up
when she went to gather greens.

So a betel-nut was called and bidden to summon Ini-init.

The betel-nut went up to the Sun, who was in his house, and said:

Good morning, Sun. I have come to summon you to a ceremony which the father and mother of
Aponibolinayen [14]are making for the spirits. If you do not want to go, I will grow on your head.10

Grow on my head, said the Sun. I do not wish to go.

So the betel-nut jumped upon his head and grew until it became so tall that the Sun was not able to carry
it, and he was in great pain.

Oh, grow on my pig, begged the Sun. So the betel-nut jumped upon the pigs head and grew, but it was
so heavy that the pig could not carry it and squealed all the time. At last the Sun saw that he would have
to obey the summons, and he said to the betel-nut:

Get off my pig and I will go.

So Ini-init came to the ceremony, and as soon as Aponibolinayen and the baby saw him, they were very
happy and ran to meet him. Then the people knew that this was the husband of Aponibolinayen, and they
waited eagerly for him to come up to them. As he drew near, however, they saw that he did not walk, for
he was round; and then they perceived that he was not a man but a large stone. All her relatives were
very angry to find that Aponibolinayen had married a stone; and they compelled her to take off her
beads11 and her good clothes, for, they said, she must now dress in old clothes and go again to live with
the stone.

So Aponibolinayen put on the rags that they brought her and at once set out with the stone for his home.
No sooner had they arrived there, however, than he became a handsome man, and they were very
happy.

In one moon, said the Sun, we will make a ceremony for the spirits, and I will pay your father and
mother the marriage price for you.

This pleased Aponibolinayen very much, and they used magic so that they had many neighbors who
came to pound rice for them and to build a large spirit house. Then they sent oiled betel-nuts to summon
their relatives to the ceremony. The father of Aponibolinayen did not want to go, but the betel-nut
threatened to grow on his knee if he did not. So he commanded all the people in the town to wash their
hair and their clothes, and when all was ready they set out.

When they reached the town they were greatly surprised to find that the stone had become a man, and
they chewed the magic betel-nuts to see who he might be. It was discovered that he was the son of a
couple in Aponibolinayens own town, and the people all rejoiced that this couple had found the son whom
they had thought lost. They named him Aponitolau, and his parents paid the marriage price for his wife
the spirit house nine times full of valuable jars.

After that all danced and made merry for one moon, and when the people departed for their homes Ini-init
and his wife went with them to live on the earth.
 Wedding Dance
By Amador Daguio

Awiyao reached for the upper horizontal log which served as the edge of the headhigh 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 had been hearing the gangsas for
she did not know how long. There was a sudden rush 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 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 bare fingers he stirred the covered smoldering embers,
and blew into the stove. When the coals began to glow, Awiyao put pieces of pine on them, then full round
logs 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 stir. "You should join the
dancers," he said, "as if--as if nothing had 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 won'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," she said weakly.

"It is 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.

"No, 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 place. "It's only that a man must have a child. Seven harvests is just too
long to wait. Yes, we have waited too 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, 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 the ceiling.

Lumnay looked down and unconsciously started to pull at the rattan that kept the split 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 gong of the dancers clamorously called in her care 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 water jars, not as good keeping a house clean. You are one of the best wives in the
whole village."

"That has not done me any 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 field," she said.

He looked at her, then turned away, and became silent. They were silent for a 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. The man have mocked me behind my back. You know that."

"I know it," he said. "I will pray that Kabunyan will bless you and Madulimay."

She bit her lips now, then shook her head wildly, 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 forms of white and jade and roaring silver; the waters tolled and growled,
resounded in thunderous echoes through the walls of the stiff cliffs; they were far away now 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 humor. 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 the carved out of the mountains
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. "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, I am useless. I must die."

"It will not be right to die," he said, gathering her in his 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
have no other 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; nobody will come after me."

"If you fail--if you fail this second time--" she said thoughtfully. The voice was a shudder. "No--no, I don't
want you to fail."

"If I fail," he said, "I'll come back to you. Then both of us will die together. Both of us will vanish from the
life of our tribe."

The gongs thundered through the walls of their house, sonorous and faraway.
"I'll keep my beads," she said. "Awiyao, let me keep my beads," she half-whispered.

"You will keep the beads. They come from far-off times. My grandmother said they come from 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 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," he 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 in agony. It pained him to
leave. She had been wonderful to him. What was it that made a man wish for a child? What was it in life,
in the work in the field, in the planting and harvest, in the silence of the night, in the communing with
husband and wife, in the whole life of the tribe itself that made man wish for the laughter 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. It was like taking
away 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 possession---his battle-ax and
his spear points, her betel nut 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 beads on, and tied them in place. The
white and jade and deep orange obsidians 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 huried her face in his neck.

The call for him from the outside repeated; her grip loosened, and he buried 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 on the whole village.

She could hear the throbbing of the gangsas coming to her through the caverns of the other houses. She
knew that all 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
honor, were dancing now in honor 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.

Suddenly she 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 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 place; a great bonfire was burning. The gangsas clamored more loudly now, and it seemed they
were calling to her. She was near at last. She could see the dancers clearly now. The man leaped lightly
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 gleaming 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 to make only four moons before. She followed the trail above
the village.

When she came to the mountain stream she crossed it carefully. Nobody held her hand, 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 clamor of the gongs, still rich in their
sonorousness, echoing from mountain to mountain. The sound did not mock her; they seemed to call far
to her, to speak to her in the language of unspeaking love. She felt the pull of their gratitude for her
sacrifice. Her heartbeat began to sound to her like many gangsas.

Lumnay thought of Awiyao as the Awiyao she 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 him long to decide to throw
his spear on the stairs of her father's house in token on his desire to marry her.

The mountain clearing was cold in the freezing moonlight. The wind began to 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 them.

A few more weeks, a few more months, 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.
The Woman Who Came Alive - A Benguet Legend

A LONG time ago there lived in Kafagway, which is Baguio today, a rich Igorot couple. The husband was
a trader. He would go down to the lowlands to barter gold for salt, pigs, clothes, and tobacco. He sold
these to the miners in Acupan, accepting their gold in return.

The man was called Balong, and the wife, Kasia. Balong dearly loved Kasia, and they were happy
together. Kasia was beautiful and fair of complexion. She had lovely, shining eyes and her raven hair
glistened. By the stream, when they went to bathe, Balong loved to smooth and finger the flowing tresses
drying in the sun.

On the hills they had cattle and carabaos. Along the hill-sides, they owned a number of rice terraces.
Moreover, they had secretly buried jars of silver money.

Balong and Kasia had grown so rich that the people began to ask why they did not hold a peshit, a lavish
feast by which the people know when a couple have acquired great wealth.

So one night, the husband asked the wife, "My Kasia, we are grown rich. The people demand that we
give a peshit. What shall we do ?"

"The people are right. Let us obey their wish. We shall spend much, but the spirits will be pleased, and
more wealth will be given us", Kasia wisely made answer.

"Then, I must go at once to the land of the Ilocos. I will have to trade much gold for the pigs to feed the
people at the great feast", said Balong. "Indeed, you must. We can't do otherwise", agreed the wife.

"Meanwhile, you make tafei (rice wine)", the husband added. "It takes time for it to ferment well. Make a
dozen jars of it".

"I will", Kasia assented.

In the morning, Balong set out on his journey. Before he left he instructed his wife: "Take good care of the
children. Don't allow them to play too near the side of the cliff".

Balong was fond of his three girls. They were all fair, like their mother. Men delighted in gazing at them, so
light were their skins and so adorable their eyes.

"I shall not be gone long", Balong called as he marched off.

At home, Kasia prepared much tafei. Some of the neighbors discovered this and the news went abroad
that Balong was making ready for the great feast.

Away from home in the lowlands, Balong stayed more than three weeks. He found it a slow business
bartering for the swine and salt. Yet in three days more he expected to be able to start for home.

But alas, sad tidings reached him before that time, and he hastened to the hills, leaving his purchases
with a good Ilocano friend, saying he would come for them some time, he did not know when.
A hillsman brought the report. Kasia had died seven days before, suddenly! It would take Balong three
days for the journey back. And by the time he arrived home, the corpse of his wife would be dried and
tanned over the glowing fire, according to the custom of his people. Already, he was told by the news-
bearer, the jars of tafei had been consumed by the people at the funeral rites.

Balong bade his tribesman to run ahead. He wanted to be alone in his grief. It pained him so that his wife
should have died while he was away! He complained to the spirits: "Wherefore should one die
inopportunely ?" He wept and then he vowed that, if he could, he would bring his wife back to life. "I have
been cheated", he thought bitterly.

Balong was nearing home. He knew his hut to be just over the hill. It was twilight, and loneliness and
despair crept into his heart as he thought of viewing only the body of his beloved wife.

Suddenly, he saw a figure coming towards him. He peered forward and discerned the ghost of his wife, in
the apparel in which he had last seen her, yet thin as air.

The figure drew nearer and nearer, as though with sightless eyes, for it seemed not to see him. Balong,
on the other hand, saw clearly. He saw the gold bracelet which he had given Kasia loosely wound about
her thin wrist.

Quickly Balong caught her, slipped his hand through the wristlet, and grasped it tightly. "Now", he said, "I
won't let you go anymore. Why did you die when I was absent ?"

Kasia seemed to awaken. She smiled indulgently at her spouse. "You forget, Balong, that I am dead now.
I am not flesh anymore. And if I died, it was not of my will".

"Notwithstanding, I won't let you go," Balong insisted. "I can not part from you again, Kasia. I love you. It
grieves me that we should not be together, die together".

"It is useless. Even if I should live again, you would not like me in my new self", said Kasia sadly.

"But I will", said Balong. "You must come to life once more" .

"If life be given me anew, I will be ugly. I will be dark, the lids of my eyes upturned, and my sight crossed.
Would you rather not keep the memory of my old loveliness ?"

"However ugly, I want you alive and my companion. I can not bear the thought that you are dead", Balong
replied.

Kasia was moved with pity for her husband. "Then, if that is what you say, I must live", she said at
last. "But you must do as I tell you, to bring me back to life. And the people must not know that I have
returned. Let them think I am another being".

Balong was only too willing to do whatever had to be done.

Kasia continued: "So, when you arrive home, you will find my body seated on a chair over the hearthfire.
Take my corpse out on a foggy morning when the mists are thick. Lay me on the dewy grass and cover
me with a techong, (a sort of coat for shedding rain made of leaves worn by women in the camote fields.)
Then, when the mists have been dispersed by the sun, uncover me, and I shall have come to life".

Balong was happy. He hurried home. He could hardly wait till the following morning. He did not sleep at all
that night.
Before dawn, he arose. He watched the east. A dense fog veiled the gray light.

Balong brought out the cadaver of his wife. Over it, he placed the techong. For an hour he waited for the
fog to lift. Gradually the sunbeams pierced the gloom and the mists melted away. Then, Balong raised
the techong. Kasia was indeed revived!

He evinced but a mild surprise as he saw the transformation in the countenance of his wife. Every detail
which she had foretold came true. Kasia had become unsightly.

Yet Balong did not regret. He was only grateful, for though her outward looks had changed, Kasia at heart
was the same.

Weeks later the postponed festival was carried through. There was great rejoicing. The peshitexceeded
the people's expectations. With the blessing of the mambunong, (priestess), the married life of Balong
and Kasia went as smoothly as ever. They had six more children. But all these took after their
transformed mother. They were ungainly, darkskinned, and cross-eyed. They stood in great contrast with
the first handsome children.

Long after Kasia and Balong had passed on, their children begot children. And the fair ones had fair
offspring; the uncouth children, uncouth progeny. And this, they say, is the reason there are dark and
lightskinned Igorots. To this day, whenever someone dies, the old crones recount this story during the
funeral ceremonies.

Ifugao Story of Man and Woman

To the Ifugaos, Mak-no-ngan was the greatest of all the gods. It was he, they believed, who created the
earth and the place of the dead.

The place of the dead was divided into many sections. The most important of these sections
were Lagud and Daya. Lagud was set aside for those who died of sickness. They were the most favored
my Mak-no-ngan. Daya was set aside for those who died of violence. They remained restless and
unhappy, until their deaths were avenged by their relatives.

After Mak-no-ngan created the earth, he made Uvigan in his image. Uvigan, then, was the first man.
Mak-no-ngan gave him the entire earth to enjoy. But he remained unhappy just the same, because he
was lonely.

Seeing this, Mak-no-ngan made Bugan, the first woman. Then he told Uvigan, Take this woman and be
happy with her. And for many years the couple lived in innocence, happiness, and peace.

Now, on the earth, there grew a tree which was different from any other. From the very beginning, Mak-
no-ngan had warned the couple against it. Dont eat its fruit, he told them, because it is evil. It will only
make you unhappy.

But Mak-no-ngans warning only made Bugan all the more curious about the tree especially since it was
beautiful and its fruit looked tempting. She tried hard to keep away from it, but she could not help herself.
Again and again, almost against her will, her feet would lead her to it. And her mouth would water as she
gazed at the ripe fruit.
Finally, Bugan could not contain herself any longer. One day, she went straight to the tree, plucked one of
the fruit, and sank her teeth into it. It was good. She liked it so much that she was seized with a desire to
share it with Uvigan.

And so she went to Uvigan, saying, Here, Uvigan, taste this.

Isnt that the fruit that Mak-no-ngan forbade us to eat? Uvigan wanted to know.
Yes, and its very good, said Bugan. It tastes better than any other fruit Ive eaten.
But what will Mak-no-ngan say? asked Uvigan.
He doesnt need to know, said Bugan.
He will, though, said Uvigan. Hes a god, and he has ways of finding out.
Then why didnt he punish me the moment I plucked the fruit? Bugan asked.
Just the same, its wrong and wicked of you to have plucked and eaten the fruit, Uvigan pointed
out. You should not have disobeyed Mak-no-ngan.
Well, said Bugan, I dont see, anyway, why he should have forbidden us to eat the fruit in the first place,
unless he wants to save it for himself. But he cant possibly eat all of it. Theres plenty and to spare.
Perhaps youre right, agreed Uvigan. Let me have a bite of the fruit.
Bugan gave it to him. He took a bite, and another, and another, as his eyes lighted with pleasure. Nothing
happened to Uvigan and Bugan right away. But little by little, they grew discontented and unhappy. And
they began to quarrel with each other. For evil had entered their lives.

Uvigan and Bugan bore many children. But they were all unruly, disobedient, and troublesome. And after
some years, Uvigan died in deep sorrow, leaving Bugan alone to run the household.

The children of Uvigan and Bugan grew more and more wicked, until Mak-no-ngan could no longer
control his anger. To punish them, he caused the rice plants to wither and die; so that, in the end, they
had nothing to eat. Filled with pity for her hungry and suffering children, Bugan knelt on the ground and
prayed that they might live. Then, with a great effort, she took hold of her breast and pressed them hard,
until two streams of milk flowed to the ground.

Bugans milk kept some of her children alive for a while, but, as it slowly ran out, she became more and
more anxious about the welfare of her children. And she continued to press her breasts harder and
harder, until blood flowed in torrents to the ground. Seeing Bugans sacrifice, Mak-no-ngan took pity on
her and on her children. And so he made The rice plants grow once more. This time, however, some of
the plants bore white grains; while the others bore red grains. The white grains were Bugans milk, while
the red grains were her blood.

ORIGIN OF THE IFUGAO TINAWON RICE

There once lived two young brothers, Wigan and Kabigat, who are descendants of Tadona in Kiyangan.
The brothers lived with their father Pudol in Kayang, a prosperous and distant village of Kiyangan. The
gods blessed them with a good life, plenty of chickens, pigs, ducks, dogs and other precious possessions.
Unfortunately their dogs always chased, killed and ate the other animals. This unpleasant behavior from
the dogs angered the two brothers. One day the brothers took hold of some wooden clubs and used them
to strike the dogs. The shrieking of the dogs aroused the curiosity of their father Pudol, who was inside
the house. He looked out from the door and questioned the two boys about their unkindness to the dogs.
Their father then explained that the dogs were in fact raw meat eaters and hunting dogs. Upon learning
that their dogs were for hunting wild animals, the brothers got themselves ready for a hunting spree.
When everything was ready, they fastened their scabbard to their waists, tucked in their beetle nut bags,
carried their backpacks, pulled-out their shining sharpened spears, pulled along their chained dogs and
went on their hunting trip. Upon reaching the hunting ground, they let loose the dogs who ran barking and
chasing the wild animals. When the brother noticed that the dogs were chasing their quarry towards
Kabunyan, where Liddum resides, the two brothers decided to follow the dogs closely for fear that they
might loose them. Carving by Albert Magguling Using the footprints of the dogs and their quarry as
guides, the brothers followed the dogs and saw that their quarry had entered Kabunyan. The quarry went
straight to the bamboo grove behind the backyard of Liddum in Kabuyan. The brothers followed behind,
took their aim on their spears and hit their quarry. The groaning of the dying quarry prompted Liddum and
his people to come around and investigate what was happening. When Liddum saw the slaughtered
animal, he confronted the two brothers and accused them of killing their animal. Wigan spoke up and
explained humbly that the animal they had killed had come from the jungle of Kiyangan and that this wild
pig had been chased by their hunting dogs to Kabunyan. He explained further that most people of
Kiyangan hunt these wild pigs for their viand. He tried to convince Liddum by pointing out the physical
differences between the wild pigs of Kiyangan and the wild pigs of Kabunyan. The snout of the wild pigs
of Kiyangan is longer and more pointed than the wild pigs of Kabunyan. Liddum, being the god of plenty
and the one who blessed them with many animals, knows that truth, and accepted Wigans explanation
and made peace with them. Then the two brothers gutted and cut their quarry and shared some with
Liddum and his people in Kabunyan. Much to the brothers surprise, Liddum and his people quickly
gobbled up their share of meat together with uncooked rice. The raw meat with fresh blood made their
mouth frothy. The brothers looked on realizing that these Kabuyan people were raw eaters, very much
like the dogs. But Wigan decided to show these Kabuyans what good food was. He quickly brought out
his flint with a special stone and produced fire out from it. He cooked the meat and some rice, which he
had asked from Liddum, in bamboo tubes. When the meat and the rice were cooked, the brothers invited
Liddum and his people to eat with them. The aroma of the cooked food was very appetizing and fulfilling
to the Kabuyan people, so much so that they were able to eat only a portions before they felt full and
satisfied. They were really amazed that Wigan had changed the taste of the food. Fire can make food
taste so good, answered Wigan. Because of the good taste of the cooked food, Liddum wanted to have
their fire. He offered some of his pigs, chickens, gold, and other wealthy possessions in exchange for the
fire. But Wigan and his brother Kabigut refused all of it saying that they had plenty of those things in their
home in Kayang. What they actually wanted was the aromatic large grain rice variety of Liddums that
they found to be more fulfilling and satisfying compared to their rice in Kayang. So Wigan asked Liddum if
he would trade his aromatic large grain rice for their fire. To this, Liddum was delighted. It was indeed a
big bargain; the fire meant so much to him and his people. That was a smart idea, Liddum said to
Wigan, for it is true that you have plenty of rice in Kayang but it is the upland rice that has no ritual and
thus it does not last long. Your big granaries are filled with your harvest but they will only last for two
months unlike our Skyworld Carving by Albert Magguling rice that would last a whole year through. So it
happened that Liddum, god of the Skyworld and the god of plenty, traded his aromatic large grain rice
variety to Wigan of Kiyangan for fire. Before Liddum handed them the two bundles of the Skyworld palay,
he first taught them the rice rituals and earnestly told them that it is important to perform these rituals
starting from the sowing of the palay seeds up to the post harvest. According to Liddum, by observing
properly and religiously these rice rituals, this large rice variety with its aroma and good taste will be free
from rice pests and rice diseases. By observing these rice rituals, there will be a good harvest that will last
the whole year round. So Wigan and Kabigat thanked Liddum and promised him that they would perform
the rice rituals in caring for the Skyworld palay. Before the brothers went home, they taught the Kabunyan
people how to produce the fire and how to cook food using the fire. As a gratitude to the generosity of
Liddum, Wigan built a fireplace/cooking place for Liddum. Then the brothers went home feeling good and
proud. They had not only brought home hunted wild pigs but also a wonderful rice plant. They told their
worried father about their unusual adventure that had caused a delay in getting them back home. The
brothers planted this rice variety in their field in Kayang, propagated it and shared it with other Ifugao
people. As the people tasted it and experienced its good satisfying effect, many people built rice fields
across the mountain slopes and wherever possible just to plant this Skyworld rice plant. From that time to
the present, this is the rice variety we plant in our Ifugao rice fields. Because we believe that it came from
Liddum of Kabunyan, we sometimes call it the Skyworld rice plant. Today, it is commonly known as
Tinawon rice because, as the name implies, it is raised only once a year.
 THE BONTOC LEGEND OF LUMAWIG (Bontoc)
Lumawig is the principal anito of the Bontoc Igorots. They regard him as their savior and the ballad of how
in the long ago, he came down to earth to marry and teach the Igorots the way of life, is sung as prayer at
each cheno. The cheno is a great caao (feast) given by the wealthy families once in a number of years,
at which the marriages of their sons and daughters are duly celebrated. The story of Lumawig runs this
wise: Kabunian, who lived in the Sky, had three sons. These sons worked daily in their father's field.
However, it happened that Lumawig, the second son, while in the fields, used to look down to the earth.
And when his brothers asked him why he kept looking down to earth, he answered, "I want to go down
and get married and live with the people on earth." The father, hearing Lumawig's reply, said, "You must
prepare all your equipment and take your spear and precious beads so that your children on earth may
inherit .hem. Also take your dog, rooster, bag and betel nut." Obtaining his father's blessing, Lumawig
descended from the Sky to Mount Calawitan and tried to observe all the barrios and villages. Asked by
the Sun why he was observing the villages, Lumawig retorted, "I want to marry in one of those places." So
the Sun said, "Take my spear and precious s}.ell belt for the woman you want to have for a wife."
Descending from Mount Calawitan, he went to a mountain near Talubin. Not liking the dialect of the
people of the village nearby and seeing that the residents were afflicted with goiter, he proceeded to
Mount Makiches, overlooking Pinged. There he observed that the people's method of cutting their hair
was not correct, so he left the place. From Makiches, he went to Sabangan and found that the people
there had faulty haircuts too. So he went to Mount Patongale. There he saw the Alab people living in a
constricted territory. Not liking to stay in a place of limited territory, he ventured northward and saw the
village of Bontoc. As if charmed by some form of magic, he came to like the place. He planned to make
the place his home. As he was resting on a mountain side overlooking Bontoc he saw two sisters working
in the fields. Sticking his spear on a rock, he sat down to watch the sisters at work. (To this day, the rock
on which he sat is still there. It also bears distinctly the mark of his spear.) Ordering the Sun to shine as
hot as it could, he sat watching the two women at work from morning till the cool of day. He observed that
one of the women was more industrious than the other. Coming down to Lanao where the two sisters
were picking black beans, he struck his spear before him and began to address them. To the younger
sister, Lumawig said, "I wish very much to marry you. May I know your father's name?" The girl answered,
"My father's name is Batanga." Lumawig asked the two sisters what they were doing and Fucan, the
younger of the two answered, "We are harvesting black beans." Lumawig then asked for a bean pod.
Fucan immediately gave him one. Taking hold of the pod, Lumawig slapped it against the rim of the girl's
basket and lo, the basket was instantly filled with beans. Lumawig told the girls to take home their
harvest. However, upon reaching home, the two girls asked their father that they be permitted to return to
the field as a man was waiting for them there. Fucan informed her father that the man had proposed to
marry her, meanwhile asking him I his opinion about it. The father replied that he had no objections to the
marriage provided that Fucan liked the would-be groom. So the girls returned to the fields and brought
home Lumawig. On their way home, Lumawig picked up a stone so huge it could not possibly be lifted by
any human being, and carried it with him easily into the barrio and on to the council house, Calatec.
Putting down the stone, he advised the sisters to tell their father to place the house ladder out as a way of
receiving Lumawig. This the father did. After the ladder of the house had been placed outside, a symbol
that the visitor was welcome, Fucan proceeded to the ato Calatec to call for Lumawig. Seeing Lumawig
enter the house, Batanga said, "This is the man who should marry my daughter." Batanga observed that
Lumawig was a refined man.-According, to Bontoc tradition, a visitor is supposed to be refined if he asks
for water as soon as he enters a house. Batanga saw Lumawig perform this act of refinement. Sitting
beside a pig pen, Lumawig saw a pig in the pen. He asked who owned the pig and Batanga said that it
was his. Then Lumawig requested that the pig's food be brought out. Hardly had he started giving food to
the pig when the pen was filled with pigs. Lumawig also multiplied the chickens of Batanga. After
sometime, however, Lumawig's brothers-in-law became critical of him. They branded him stingy as he
had many pigs but would not butcher any. So Lumawig said, "My brothers-in-law, I am giving a caao.
This caao will have to be followed by all g generations." As the time for the caao neared, Lumawig took
his wife Fucan to Lanao, a village below Bontoc proper, as he did not want to hear criticisms from his
brothers-in-law. Later he called upon all the people of Bontoc to assemble for the caao. The residents
were surprised to see Lumawig's house empty. There were no pigs to be butchered, no rice to be cooked.
Still, Lumawig ordered fires to be built and the cauldrons for the rice prepared. Then the cauldrons were
miraculously filled with rice. There were also some for the meat. There being no pigs in sight, the people
began to wonder. So Lumawig faced Mount Calawitan and called for the pigs to come down. Instead of
pigs, a herd of deer came running to where Lumawig stood calling. He sent the deer back and called
again. This time, droves of pigs came racing down from the mountain. As there were many pigs, Lumawig
ordered the people to catch one pig each. The people obeyed and each was able to catch one save his
brothers-in-law who had scorned him. Fucan asked why her brothers were not able to catch their share !
the pigs. To which Lumawig replied, "Let them catch the pigs if they can. I have instructed the pigs to
escape from your brothers because they have scorned me." However, upon finding his brothers-in-law
tired, he let them catch a pig each. After the chase, the pigs were butchered for the caao. Lumawig
ordered the elders of the barrio to divide the meat equally, giving each one a share. The remaining pig
meat was put in the five cauldrons in order to cook it. He also ordered the people to bring pine trees with
which to support the cauldrons. But the trees brought were found to be very small. So Lumawig himself
went to the mountain called Cadcad and seized two of the bigger pines and threw them to Lanao where
they were used to hold the cauldrons. The meat cooked, the people partook of the great feast. The people
were dispersed after the feast, except the old men who remained to continue their prayers in favor of the
performer of the caao. The following morning, Lumawig butchered a pig to close the caao ceremony.
Immediately after the big caao, Lumawig gathered the people together and told them that he was going
to teach them the methods of warfare. He took the men to a mountain called Inchaquig and there they
lured the Sadanga people to a fight. After heavy fighting, and no one being hurt among the Sadanga men,
he ordered his men to retreat towards their homes. The people felt thirsty and started to complain. The
loudest complaint was heard from one of Lumawig's brothers-in-law. Incensed at the murmurings,
Lumawig struck his spear against a rock and cool water issued forth. All were ordered to drink except
Lumawig's brother-in-law, who was asked to drink with Lumawig. The turn for Lumawig's brother-in-law to
drink came. While he was bending to sip the water, Lumawig seized him and thrust him head first into the
rock. The water freely flowed through the body of Tangan, the complaining brother-in-law. The people
returned to Lanao and while there heard a lengthy discourse on the art of warfare from Lumawig, who
also ordered the rock through which he had thrust one of his brothers-in-law to fall down and issue water
from underneath it. To this day, water flows from under the rock. Having taught all he wanted to the
people, Lumawig told his wife Cayapon (Fucan's name had been changed to Cayapon that he was
returning to the Sky. He wanted arrangements with his wife that they be divorced since his work on earth
had already been accomplished. He assured his wife that during his absence, she would find another
husband, a widower. So, after the divorce arrangements had been agreed upon, Lumawig went to Mount
Calawitan and made a coffin for his wife and two children. Cayapon and her children were to be placed by
Lumawig inside the coffin and floated down the Chico river. The coffin was made and Cayapon and the
children were placed inside. Lumawig pushed the coffin bearing his wife and children into the swollen
river. With a rooster in front and a dog at the foot of the coffin, Cayapon and her children floated down to
as hr as Tinglayan. Hearing the crowing of the cock and the barking of the dog on the coffin, the natives of
Tinglayan attempted to bring the coffin to land and to pry it open. But try as they would, they could not pry
it open. Later, a widower came along the river bank and saw the coffin. He was about to drive a wedge
through the coffin lid when Cayapon shouted, "Don't drive a wedge through the coffin. It will open by
itself." When the coffin had burst-open, Cayapon said to the widower, "Lumawig has sent me here to be
your wife. Take me as your wife and support my children. We shall be establishing the tradition that
widowers and widows shall marry again." So the widower took the woman and her children to his house.
After the marriage ceremony had been performed, the Tinglayan people murdered one of the Mabungtot
natives and performed the caao. The people had a grand time dancing; Cayapon danced inside their
house and the earth began to shake. The old man requested her to dance in the yard to be seen by all
people. She went out of the house to the yard but as she proceeded to dance, Lumawig, her first
husband, who had instructed her not to dance in the open, became enraged and spat on her from the
Sky. Cayapon was instantly killed. She was the first person to die among the people and since then, all of
her people became subject to death. During a typhoon before their mother's death, the two sons of
Cayapon went to the river in search of wood for fuel. Along the river bank they found black beans
scattered all around. They gathered the beans. Cayapon told her sons that they were the same beans
she planted in Lanao years before. Then she gave them instructions to go back to Bontoc to marry and
resume the cultivation of the fields of their parents. Cayapon also instructed her sons that they should
follow the muddy branch of the river which flowed down past Bontoc. Following the death of their mother,
the two sons started up the river towards Bontoc. Instead of taking the muddy river mentioned by their
mother, they followed the dear Ampuwet river until they came to Caneo. While in Caneo, they helped the
people crush the sugar cane and the jars of the people were miraculously filled with cane juice. Then the
Caneo people killed the two brothers. Upon hearing of the death of Cayapon's sons, the people of Bontoc
attempted to get revenge for their murder. But the Caneo people fled when the Bontocs went to get the
two dead bodies of their two comrades.

The Bontoc people brought the two sons of Cayapon to Sokoc and buried them there. The carrying pole
was planted over their grave. That pole has grown to be a big tree and up to the present, people offer
their sacrifices beside this tree. Lumawig before his departure to heaven, taught many things to the
people of Bontoc. He taught them the art of making rice paddies that can produce large yields. He
instructed them how to irrigate their fields, how to cut the rocks in order to build ditches, how to weave
baskets, make cloth out of the bark of trees. Also he taught them the methods of blacksmithing, fishing
and hunting.

He also initiated the ato, a meeting place of the Bontocs at which the interests of the people are
discussed. Above all, Lumawig taught the Bontoc people a moral code. Some of the provisions of this
code are:

1)A man must not steal.

2)0ne should not gossip.
3)Men and women must not commit adultery.
4) One must be temperate in eating and in drinking alcoholic drinks.
5) All people must live simple and industrious lives. Lumawig has continued to guard his people through
the centuries that have passed. On certain occasions, he descends to earth to guide his people, teaching
them to be ever honest and industrious.
Mina ng Ginto
Alamat ng Baguio

Sa isang nayon sa Baguio na kung tawagin ay Suyuk, naninirahan ang mga Igorot na pinamumunuan ni
Kunto. Si Kunto ay bata pa ngunit siya ang pinakama-lakas at pinakamatapang sa kanilang nayon kaya
siya ang ginawang puno ng matatandang pantas.
Ang mga naninirahan sa nayong ito ay namumuhay nang tahimik . Maibigin sila sa kapwa at may takot
sila sa kanilang bathala. Taun-taon ay nagdaraos sila ng ca ao bilang parangal sa kanilang mga anito.
Noong panahong iyon, ang mga Igorot ay naniniwala sa ibat ibang anito.
Kung nagdaraos sila ng caao ay lingguhan ang kanilang handa. Nagpapatay sila ng baboy na iniaalay
sa kanilang bathala. Nagsasayawan at nagkakantahan sila.
Isang araw ay nagtungo si Kunto sa gubat upang mamana. Hindi pa siya lubhang nakalalayo nang
nakakita siya ng isang uwak. Nakatayo ito sa isang landas na kanyang tinutunton. Karaniwang ang mga
ibon sa gubat ay maiilap ngunit ang ibong ito ay kaiba.
Lumakad si Kunto palapit sa ibon ngunit hindi ito tuminag sa pagkakatayo sa gitna ng landas. Nang may
iisang dipa na lamang siya mula sa ibon, bigla siyang napatigil.
Tinitigan siyang mainam ng ibon at saka tumango nang tatlong ulit bago lumipad. Matagal na natigilan si
Kunto . Bagamat siyay malakas at matapang, sinagilahan siya ng takot. Hindi niya mawari kung ano ang
ibig sabihin ng kanyang nakita.
Hindi na niya ipinagpatuloy ang kanyang pamamana. Siyay bumalik sa nayon at nakipagkita sa
matatandang pantas. Anang isang matanda, Marahil ang ibong iyon ay ang sugo ng ating bathala.
Ipinaaalaala sa atin na dapat tayong magdaos ng ca ao.
Kung gayon, ngayon din ay magdaraos tayo ng ca ao, ang pasiya ni Kunto.
Ipinagbigay-alam sa lahat ang caao na gagawin. Lahat ng mamamayan ay kumilos upang ipagdiwang
ito sa isang altar sa isang bundok-bundukan. Ang mga babae naman ay naghanda ng masasarap na
pagkain.
Nang ang lahat ay nakahanda na, ang mga lalaki ay humuli ng isang baboy. Ang baboy na ito ay siyang
iaalay sa kanilang bathala upang mapawi ang galit, kung ito man ay nagagalit sa kanila.
Inilagay ang baboy sa altar na ginawa nila sa itaas ng bundok-bundukan. Anong laking himala ang
nangyari! Nakita nilang ang baboy ay napalitan ng isang pagkatanda-tandang lalaki! Ang mukha ay kulay-
lupa na sa katandaan at halos hindi na siya makaupo sa kahinaan.Ang mga tao ay natigilan. Nanlaki ang
mga mata sa kanilang nakita. Silay natakot.
Maya-mayay nagsalita ang matanda at nagwika nang ganito: Mga anak magsilapit kayo. Huwag kayong
matakot. Dahil sa kayoy mabuti at may loob sa inyong bathala, gagantimpalaan ko ang inyong kabutihan.
Lamang ay sundin ninyo ang lahat ng aking ipagbilin.
Kumuha kayo ng isang tasang kanin at ilagay ninyo rito sa aking tabi. Pagkatapos sukluban ninyo ako ng
isang malaking palayok. Ipagpatuloy ninyo ang inyong ca ao. Pagkalipas ng tatlong araw, bumalik kayo
rito sa pook na ito.
Makikita niyo ang isang punungkahoy, na kahit minsan sa buhay ninyo ay hindi pa ninyo nakikita o
makikita magpakailanman. Ang bunga,dahon, at sanga ay maaari ninyong kunin ngunit ang katawan ay
huwag ninyong gagalawin. Huwag na huwag ninyong tatagain ang katawan nito.
Tinupad naman ng mga tao ang ipinagbilin ng matanda.Ipinagpatuloy nila ang kanilang pista. Pagkaraan
ng tatlong araw, bumalik sila sa pook na pinag-iwanan sa matanda. Itinaas nila ang palayok at gaya ng
sinabi ng matanda, nakita nila ang isang punungkahoy na maliit. Kumikislap ito sa liwanag ng araw-lantay
na ginto mula sa ugat hanggang sa kaliit-liitang dahon.
Nagsigawan ang mga tao sa laki ng galak. Si Kunto ang kauna-unahang lumapit sa punungkahoy at
pumitas ng isang dahon. Pagkapitas sa dahon ay nagkaroon kaagad ng kapalit ito kayat nag-ibayo ang
tuwa sa mga tao. Bawat isa ay pumitas ng dahon.
Sa loob ng maikling panahon, yumaman ang mga taga-Suyuk.Ang dati nilang matahimik na pamumuhay
ay napalitan ng pag-iimbutan at inggitan. Ang punungkahoy naman ay patuloy sa pagtaas hanggang sa
ang mga dulo nitoy hindi na maabot ng tingin ng mga tao.
Isang araw, anang isang mamamayan, kay taas-taas na at hindi na natin maabot ang bunga o dahon ng
punong-ginto. Mabuti pa ay pagputul-putulin na natin ang mga sanga at dahon nito. Ang puno ay
paghahati-hatian natin.
Kinuha ng mga lalaki ang kanilang mga itak at palakol. Ang iba ay kumuha ng mga sibat. Tinaga nila nang
tinaga ang puno at binungkal ang lupa upang lumuwag ang mga ugat.Nang malapit nang mabuwal ang
punungkahoy ay kumidlat nang ubod-talim. Kumulog nang ubos-lakas at parang pinagsaklob ang lupa at
langit.
Ang punungkahoy ay nabuwal. Nayanig ang lupa at bumuka sa lugar na kinabagsakan ng puno. Isang
tinig ang narinig ng mga tao. Kayo ay binigyan ng gantimpala sa inyong kabutihan. Ang punong-ginto
upang maging mariwasa ang inyong pamumuhay. Sa halip na kayoy higit na mag-ibigan , kasakiman ang
naghari sa inyong mga puso. Hindi ninyo sinunod ang aking ipinagbilin na huwag ninyong sasaktan ang
puno. Sa tuwi-tuwina ay inyong nanaisin ang gintong iyan.
At pagkasabi ng mga katagang ito, sa harap ng mga tao sa Suyuk, ang puno ay nilulon na ng lupang
kinabuwalan. Mula nga noon, nagkaroon na ng minang ginto sa Baguio at nakukuha lamang ito sa
pamamagitan ng paghukay sa lupa.

ALIM (Epiko ng mga Ifugao)

Noong unang panahon, ginalit ng mga tao ang mga diyos at diyosa dahil sa kanilang pagkakasala at
patuloy na pasuway sa kautusan ng mga diyos. Nagpadala ng malaking baha na nagpalubog sa buong
daigdig at sumira sa lahat ng nabubuhay na nilalang. Dalawa lamang ang nakaligtas sa pagbaha: sila ay
magkapatid, sina Wigan at Bugan. Nang nagsimula nang tumaas ang baha ay umakyat si Wigan sa
bundok Amuyaw upang mailigtas ang sarili. Ganoon din si Bugan na pumunta sa bundok na Kalawitan
upang maghanap ng masisilungan.

Nanatili si Bugan sa bundok hanggang humupa ang tubig at hanggang matuyo ang lupa. Bumaba siya at
nadiskobre na siya lamang ang natirang buhay. Lahat ay nalunod kahit ang mga hayop. Nagkalat ang
mga patay na katawan, mabaho. Sa kanyang paglalakbay upang humanap nang makakain ay nakakita
siya ng isang babae na natatabunan ang kalahati ng katawan sa lupa, kumakaway sa kanya. Nakilala
niya ito.
Bugan! masaya niyang sabi habang ibinubuka ang braso upang yakapin siya.

Wigan, aking kapatid, nanginginig niyang sabi dahil sa di masidlang kasiyahan. Pinabayaan niyang
yakapin siya ng kapatid at inihilig ang ulo sa kanyang dibdib.

Nasaan ang iba? tinanong ni Wigan pagkatapos.

Patay na. sagot niya. Sa aking palagay ay tayo lamang ang nakaligtas sa pagbaha.

Naglakad-lakad sila upang tingnan kung may iba pang nakaligtas ngunit wala silang nakita. Ang nakita
lamang nila ay mga patay na katawan ng mga tao, hayop kahit ang mga halaman.

Naghanap sila ng lugar na matitirhan. Nakakita sila ng lugar na malapit sa dalampasigan kung saan
nagsisimulang tumubo ang mga halaman. Nagtayo sila ng kubo mula sa mga kahoy na nakakalat sa
paligid. Pagkatapos ay inilibing nila ang mga patay na katawan na nakita nila malapit sa dalampasigan.

Gutom na ako, sabi ni Bugan habang nagpapahinga sila pagkatapos ilibing ang mga patay na katawan.

Ako din, sabi ni Wigan. Dito ka lamang at titingnan ko kung makakahuli ako ng isda sa dagat.

Sa tingin mo ay may isda doon? tanong ni Bugan.

Ang mga halaman ay nagsisimula nang tumubo. Siguro ay humuhupa na ang galit ng mga diyos at
babalik na din ang mga isda sa dagat.

Mayroon ngang mga isda sa dagat. Nang gabing iyon ay kumain sila ng saganang hapunan ng
pinakuluang isda. At natulog silang magkasama. Pagkatapos ng ilang araw ay natuklasan ni Bugan na
siya'y nagdadalang tao. Pumunta siya sa dalampasigan at tinangkang lunurin ang sarili sapagkat
nahihiya siya dahil siya ay nabuntis ng kanyang kapatid. Ngunit bago pa man siya makapunta sa malalim
na parte ng tubig, isang matandang lalaki ang nagpakita sa kanya. Sinabi nito na siya si Makanunggan,
ang diyos ng Ifugao. Ikinasal ni Makanunggan ang dalawa at nagkaroon sila ng siyam na anak, limang
lalaki at apat na babae.

Nagkaroon ng malawak na tag-gutom. Kumonti ang ani. Nagpatay sila ng daga at inihandog nila kay
Makanunggan ngunit nagpatuloy ang kaunting ani.
Ano ang gagawin natin? tanong ni Bugan kay Wigan isang gabi bago sila matulog. Mamamatay tayong
lahat sa guton kung magpapatuloy ang mahina nating ani.

Hindi ko alam kung bakit galit si Makanunggan sa atin. Marahil ay hindi niya nagustuhan ang daga na
inihandog natin sa kanya.

Bakit hindi natin ihandog ang ating anak na si Igon?

Nagkasundo sila na patayin si Igon, ang pinaka-batang anak at inihandog kay Makanunggan. At sa
wakas ay natapas ang mahinang ani. Ngunit nagpakita muli si Makanunggan at sihabi na ang ginawa nila
kay Igon ay karumal-dumal. Ikinalat sila ni Makanunggan sa apat na sulok ng lupa, sa silangan at
kanluran at sa hilaga at timog. At sinumpa sila dahil sa ginawa nila kay Igon. Mag-aaway sila sa bawat
pagkakataon na malalapit sila sa isa't-isa.