Filipino Popular Tales

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When the ant heard that the snake was endowed with such power, it at
once went to God to ask that the same privilege be granted it. The ant
found God on his heavenly throne, instructing his host of angels. The
ant approached God, and addressed him thus: "O thou almighty God! my
brother the snake has been granted a great privilege by thee. Why
art thou so unkind to me? Give me the same power, and I will be of
great aid to the snake in destroying sinners." God, thinking that
the snake might need an assistant, gave the ant the same privilege
that he had given the snake.

The ant was so greatly overjoyed, that it ran as fast as it could
to the earth. When God saw it running, he called to the ant, but it
paid no attention to him. Then God, being very much enraged, took away
some of the ant's power, lest the ant might use it unreasonably. And
so to-day the ant's bite is not so poisonous as the snake's.

Notes.

Another form of this story, recorded by Andrea Silva, also of Lipa,
Batangas, runs as follows:--

In the olden times, when this great universe was still young, the
inhabitants of this Archipelago had a sacred belief in a superior
god whom they called Bathala. He was the creator of all things.

One day Bathala called the animals one by one, and bestowed upon each a
gift, or the power of doing something. To the bird he gave the power to
fly. Next Bathala called the ant, likewise intending to bestow on it
more power than on any other animals, because it was so very small;
but the ant was the most stupid and lazy of all creatures. It did
not pay any attention to the summons of the god, but pretended to
be deaf. Whereupon Bathala became so angry that he called the snake
and gave to it the wonderful power that he had intended to give the
ant. "You, Sir Snake, shall seldom be caught by any person, for you
shall have the power of being very nimble. Besides, every one shall
be afraid of you."

When finally the ant appeared before the god, asking him for the
gift he had promised, Bathala said, "O you poor, tiny, imprudent
creature! Since you disobeyed your god, from now on you and your
tribe shall meet with death very often, for you shall be pinched by
those whom you bite."

And so it is to-day that we pinch to death the ants whenever they
bite us.

The narrator testified that she heard the story from an old woman in
her town of Lipa. So far as I know, this "just-so" fable of "The Ant
and the Snake and God" has not been recorded outside of Lipa, Batangas;
and I am inclined to believe that it represents old local tradition.

TALE 66

Why Locusts Are Harmful.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

During the dawn of humanity, some angels headed by Satanas revolted
against God. They wanted to establish a kingdom for themselves. In
a battle against the army of God, in which God himself was present,
Satanas threw a handful of sand into God's face; but the heavenly
monarch just laughed, and said, "I turn the sand back to thee. The
particles shall become the scourge of all ages to thee and to thy
followers, O Satanas!"

No sooner had God uttered these words than the particles of sand
became a mighty swarm of locusts, that flew in all directions. Such
was the beginning of the pest.

Notes.

A tribal Bicol-story narrated by Maximina Navarro of Albay runs thus:--

The Origin of Locusts.

Many years ago there lived a head man whose home was situated in a
very fertile valley, all the inhabitants of which he governed. He was
not a good ruler, however; for he was so greedy, that he wanted to
hoard up all the rice produced by his people. Every year, therefore,
he squeezed from his subjects as much rice as he could get, so that
at the end of four years his granaries were full to bursting. It
happened that in the fifth year the crop failed, and the people knew
that they should starve unless their ruler would let them have rice
from his barns. At first they were afraid to go petition the head man,
for they feared that he would refuse them; but, when nearly one-half
of the children had died from starvation, they agreed to send some
representatives to beg for rice.

Seven men were chosen to be the ambassadors. When they reached
the house of the datu, for so they called their ruler, they asked
for admittance, crying that they wanted rice for their wives and
children. When the datu heard their cry, he went to the door and
made a motion as if he would knock the petitioners off the ladder
leading to the house. He lost his balance and fell, striking his
head sharply on the bottom of the ladder. Thinking that he was dead,
the seven men made no attempt to help him, but went home, proclaiming
that soon there would be rice enough for all.

But the datu was not dead, only badly stunned. The next morning, as he
was walking around his granaries, they exploded with a loud noise; and
all the rice flew away in the form of insects, and vanished from his
sight. This kind of insect which originated from the rice we call doron
(from the Spanish word duro), on account of the toughness of its skin.

A more intelligible version of this story is the following related
by Felix de la Llana, who was told it by an old farmer of Candelaria,
Zambales. It appears to represent old Pagan tradition modified somewhat
by Christianity.

The Origin of Locusts.

When all the surface of the earth was yet a wilderness and the people
were very few, there lived a farmer who wished to become rich all at
once. So he told his wife to pray to Kayamanan, the goddess of riches,
to give them fortune.

One night the goddess with arms extended appeared to them in a dream,
and advised the ambitious farmer to build six large barns. Then
she went to the goddess of plenty, Kainomayan, and asked her to
give this farmer abundant crops. When the farmer harvested his rice
the next season, he was astounded to find that the crop more than
filled his six barns. So delighted was he, and so greedy, that he
and his wife thought no more of the source of their good fortune,
and they neglected to celebrate a feast in honor of God and his
goddesses. He felt like a powerful monarch, and did not wish to work
any more. However, his riches did not last long, as we shall see.

One day the goddess Kayamanan disguised herself, and in the form of a
beggar came to the house of the rich farmer. She begged him to let her
rest for a little while under his roof, for she had been travelling in
many countries, she said. When she asked for some remnants of rice to
eat, the ungrateful farmer said to her, "Get off my grounds! don't come
here to bother me! If you don't leave at once, I shall let this dog
loose, and you will be its food." The poor beggar went away without
a word, but she begged almighty God to give her the power to change
anything to any form or creature she wished. As she was God's favorite,
her request was granted. So she assumed her own form, and went again
to the farmer's house. To him she said, "You who became rich by my aid,
and have denied food and shelter to a beggar, shall be punished. Since
you have neglected your duty both to the poor and to me, I therefore,
with the consent of the almighty God, punish you thus: your rice
shall turn to a swarm of locusts, which will destroy all the crops
of the farmers of your own race and those of other countries."

The punishment was carried out, and the farmer was left destitute.

This story is also known in the Tagalog province of Batangas.

In a Rumanian saga (Daehnhardt, 3 : 250) a swarm of locusts is sent
by God to punish an emperor who would not invite any priests or nuns
to his wedding-banquet. When the guests were about to eat the feast
prepared, the insects appeared and devoured everything. Since that
time locusts have appeared whenever mankind has forgotten God.

TALE 67

How Lansones Became Edible.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

Once upon a time the fruit of the lansone-tree was very poisonous. Its
very juice could make a man sick with leprosy. One day a very
religious old man was passing through a forest to attend the fiesta
of the neighboring town. When he reached the middle of the thick
wood, he became very hungry and tired, and he felt that he could go
no farther. No matter where he looked, he could see nothing but the
poisonous lansone-trees. So he lay down on the soft grass. Hardly a
moment had passed, when a winged being from heaven approached him, and
said, "My good Christian pilgrim, take some of these lansone-fruits,
eat them, and you will be much relieved." At first the old man would
not do it, but the angel picked some of the fruits and handed them
to the pilgrim. He then ate, and soon his hunger was removed. After
thanking Heaven, he continued on his journey. Ever since this time,
lansones have been good to eat. All the fruits still bear the marks
of the angel's fingers.

Notes.

The lanson (Lansium domesticum) is a small tree of Malaysia,
extensively cultivated for its fruit, which resembles a yellow plum
(from E. Ind. lansa). It is not native to the Philippines, and was
probably introduced into the Islands by the Malays in prehistoric
times. Our story, which I think we must consider not imported, is
based on a fancied etymological connection between lanson and lason
(Tag. for "poison"), and does not appear to be known except to the
Tagalogs of La Laguna province, although in Pampango also the word
lason means "poison." Lason itself is derived from the Malay rachun,
perhaps through the Sulu lachun.

Two other Tagalog versions, both from Laguna province, also show the
influence of Christianity, but vary enough from our story to be worthy
of record here. One, related by Manuel Gallego of San Antonio, Nueva
Ecija, is entitled "The Adam and Eve of the Tagalogs." Mr. Gallego
heard the story from a farmer living in Lubang, La Laguna. It runs
as follows:--

Many hundreds of years ago, when Luzon was still uninhabited, Bathala,
our supreme god, was envious of Laon, the god of the Visayans,
because Laon had many subjects, while Bathala's kingdom was a barren
desert. It was within the power of Bathala to create human beings,
but not food for them; and so he asked for advice from Diwata, the
supreme god of the universe.

Diwata told Bathala that the next day he would send an angel to
earth with seeds to be planted. The promise was fulfilled, and
Bathala scattered the seeds all over Luzon. Within a short time the
island was covered with trees and shrubs, and was then ready for human
habitation. Accordingly Bathala created Adam and Eve, the ancestors of
the Tagalogs. In spite of the fact that they were forbidden to eat the
green fruit of a certain plant, they disobeyed and ate it; so, as a
punishment, they were poisoned and made very sick. They did not die,
however. As a result of their experience, they gave the name lason
("poison") to this plant. Conscious of their fault, Adam and Eve
implored forgiveness of Diwata. By order of Diwata, Bathala forgave
the criminals; but the lason still remained poisonous. In order to
rid it of its dangerous properties, an angel was sent to earth. He
put the marks of his finger-nails on the surface of the pulp of each
lason-seed, and these marks may be seen to this day. Afterwards the
name of the plant was changed from lason to lanzon, the name by which
it has been known ever since.

In the other Tagalog version, narrated by Eulogio Benitez of
Pagsanjan, La Laguna, the incident of the finger-prints is told as
a local saint-legend of Paete. The story is entitled "How Lanzones
became Edible."

The little town of Paete, on the southern and western shore of
Laguna de Bay, produces more lanzones than any other town in the
province. Steamers call daily at her wharves for the fruits which
have made her famous. In the church of this town may still be seen
the image of the mother of God, the Virgin Mary, leading her child.

One evening a long time ago it was discovered that the beautiful
image was missing from its accustomed place in the church. The news
spread like wildfire, and all the people were in great amazement and
consternation. While all was confusion in the town, a heavenly sight
was being presented in a little place outside the municipality. A
beautiful woman dressed in white was walking over the grass with a
child in her arms. They were going towards a lanzon-tree on the other
side of the meadow. The boy, who was evidently tired of being carried,
asked to be put down. When the child saw the fruits scattered all over
the ground, he felt very thirsty, and, picking up one of the tempting
fruits, began to open it. The mother told her son that the fruit was
poisonous; but the child said that he was very thirsty, and could
go no farther if he did not have a drink. Then the mother took the
fruit from his hands, and with her delicate white fingers pinched
the pulp gently. Turning to her son, she said, "Now you may take
this and eat it. You will find it the most delicious and refreshing
of all fruits." The child obeyed, and the fruit was indeed sweet.

This is the way by which the lanzones were transformed from a
poisonous, dangerous fruit to a sweet, delicate food. If any one
discredits this story, all he needs to do to prove its truth is
to open up any lanzon he finds, and he will see without fall the
finger-prints of the Virgin.

TALE 68

Why Cocks Fight One Another.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

Once upon a time in an unknown country there lived a royal couple
endowed with almost all the blessings of God. Their palace was
decorated with all kinds of precious stones, diamonds, sapphires,
and emeralds. They were often honored with visits from the celestial
beings. There was hardly an hour of the day when some sort of
jubilation or festival was not being held in the royal home. But,
in spite of all his riches, there was a melancholy in the mind of the
king,--a brooding, a cankering thought, that would not give him an hour
of rest or contentment. In spite of all the favors lavished on him by
God, he felt miserable and uneasy. He had a happy and wealthy kingdom,
but--he had no heir. There was nobody to manage the government after
his death. Whenever the thought of death came to his mind, he fell
on his knees and implored the Almighty to give him a son: "Have mercy
on me, O God! Give me a son to manage my kingdom after I am gone!"

One evening an angel from Paradise came to visit him, and, on finding
the king at his prayers, said, "Dry thy tears, O king! Thy royal
prayer is heard in heaven. Thou shalt be given more than a son, but
not in the same shape as thou art. Thy sons shall see the light of
day crowned with their own flesh." The king was so greatly overjoyed,
that he could not speak a single word of gratitude in reply.

Not long afterward the queen gave birth to a cock that crowed on
seeing the light of day. The couple were very glad: night and day
they caressed the royal babe, and they would have made for him a
cage of gold had not God forbidden them to do so. Every year a cock
was born into the royal family, until the feathered sons numbered
thirteen. But these sons were jealous of one another: each thought
that the others had no right to wear crowns.

At last the old king and queen died, and no one was left to manage
the royal demesne but the dumb sons. Thereafter the feathered orphans
began fighting one another, each one trying to wrest the crown from
the others.

Note.

I know of no variant of this story.

TALE 69

Why Bats Fly at Night.

Narrator, Francisco M. Africa.

Many years ago the earth was inhabited by only one man. His body was
composed of minute organisms that were incessantly warring against
one another. One day this man became so weak that he could not obtain
food for his support. He laid himself down on some soft moss by the
bank of a river, and there he remained till night.

The organisms that lived in his body began to fight against one another
most fiercely. Each ate his fellow until he became very big. At last
the man died, and only one organism remained alive. This organism then
flew away, and became the ancestor of the bats. The light of day so
dazzled his eyes, that he could not fly very far, so he decided to
fly only at night. And ever since, his descendants, too, have hidden
themselves in the day-time, and come out only when it is dark.

Note.

This somewhat unsatisfactory pourquoi story appears to represent at
bottom a very ancient tradition. I know of no parallels; but tales
explaining why the bat flies at night are found among many peoples
(e.g., Daehnhardt, 3 : 94, 267, 270; Dayrell, Nos. VII, XII).

TALE 70

Why the Sun Shines more Brightly than the Moon.

A Tagalog story narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

Long, long ago there lived a fairy with two very beautiful
daughters. Araw, the elder daughter, was very amiable, and had a
kindly disposition; but Buwan, unlike her sister, was disobedient,
cruel, and harsh. She was always finding fault with Araw. One night,
when the fairy came home from her nocturnal rambles and saw Buwan
badly mistreating her elder sister, she asked God for help against
her unruly daughter.

Before this time God had prepared very valuable gifts for the two
sisters. These gifts were two enormous diamonds that could light the
whole universe. When God heard the prayer of the fairy, he descended to
earth disguised as a beggar. On learning for himself how bad-tempered
Buwan was, and how sweet and kind-hearted Araw, God gave the older
sister her diamond as a reward. Buwan was greatly angered by this
favoritism on the part of the Almighty, so she went to the heavenly
kingdom and stole one of God's diamonds. Then she returned to earth
with the precious stone, but there she found that her jewel was not
so brilliant as Araw's.

When God went back to heaven and learned what Buwan had done, he sent
two angels to punish her. But the angels abused their commission:
they seized both sisters and hurled them into the sea. Then they threw
the two stones upward into the sky, and there they stuck. But Araw's
diamond was bigger and brighter than the one Buwan stole. Thereafter
the bigger jewel was called Araw ("day" or "sun"); and the smaller one,
Buwan ("moon").

Notes.

A Pangasinan myth, narrated by Emilio Bulatao of San Carlos,
Pangasinan, tells how the light from the sun and the moon proceeds
from two fiery palaces. The story follows:--

The Sun, the Moon, and the Stars.

There was once a powerful god called Ama ["father"], the father and
ruler of all others, and the creator of man. He had a wonderful aerial
abode, from which he could see everything. Of all his sons, Agueo
["sun, day"] and Bulan ["moon"] were his two favorites, and to these
he gave each a fiery palace. In accordance with the wish of their
father, Agueo and Bulan daily passed across the earth side by side,
and together they furnished light to mankind. Now, Agueo was of a
morose and taciturn disposition, but he was always very obedient to
his father; Bulan, on the other hand, was merry and full of mischief.

Once, when they were near the end of their day's labor, they saw
thieves on the earth below, wishing that it were night so that they
might proceed with their unlawful business. Bulan, who was one of their
kind, urged Agueo to be quick, so that the earth might soon be left in
darkness. As Agueo obstinately refused to be hurried, a quarrel ensued
between the two brothers. Their father, who had been watching the two
boys and had heard all that passed between them, became very angry
with the mischievous Bulan; and, in his wrath, he seized an enormous
rock and hurled it whistling through the air. The rock struck the
palace of Bulan, and was broken into thousands of pieces, which got
perpetual light from contact with the fiery palace. These may still
be seen in the heavens, and they are called Bituen ["stars"]. Bulan
was forbidden to travel with Agueo any more, but was commanded to
light the ways of thieves henceforth with his much-dimmed fiery palace.

A somewhat similar Pampango myth may also be given here, as it has
never before been printed. It was narrated by Leopoldo Layug of Guagua,
Pampanga, and is entitled "The Sun and the Moon."

Long ago the earth was created and ruled by Bathala. He had two
children, Apolaqui and Mayari. From the eyes of these two children
the earth received its first light. The people, the birds of the air,
the animals of the mountains, and even the fishes of the sea, were
glad because they had light, and so they were great friends of the
two children.

Bathala loved his children tenderly, and never wanted them to be
separated from him. So, no matter how tired he was, he always followed
them in their daily walks. But as time went on, and Bathala became
old and feeble and could no longer keep up with his active son and
daughter, he asked them to stay with him at all times; but they were so
absorbed in their pleasures, that they paid no heed to their father's
wish. One day he became sick, and died suddenly, without leaving any
written will as to the disposition of his kingdom. Now Apolaqui wanted
to rule the earth without giving any power to his sister Mayari. She
refused to consent to her brother's plan, and a bitter conflict arose
between them. For a long time they fought with bamboo clubs. At last
Mayari had one of her eyes put out. When Apolaqui saw what he had
done to his sister, he felt very sorry for her, and said that they
should struggle no longer, but that they should exercise equal power
on the earth, only at different times. Since that time, Apolaqui, who
is now called the Sun, has ruled the earth during the day, and from
his eyes we receive bright light. Mayari, who is called the Moon,
rules the world at night. Her light, however, is fainter than her
brother's, for she has but one eye.

This same struggle between the two great luminaries is reflected in
two short cradle-songs that Pampangan mothers sing to their children
to still them. These verses were contributed by Lorenzo Licup of
Angeles:--

Ing bulan ilaning aldo
Mitatagalan la baho
Pangaras da quetang cuarto
Nipag sundang, mipagpusto.

"The Moon and the Sun chased each other above. When they came into
a room, they took their daggers from their sides and were ready to
fight each other."

Ing aldo ilaning bulan
Mitatagalan la lalan
Pangaras da quetang Pampang
Mipagpustu, 't, mitabacan.

"The Sun and the Moon chased each other below. When they came to
a bank, they first made preparation, and then began to fight each
other with bolos."

The two stories and the two stanzas just given appear to be genuine
old native tradition, unmodified by Christianity.

For Tinguian, Bukidnon, Mandaya, and Visayan myths of the sun, moon,
and stars, see M. C. Cole, 65, 124, 145, 201.

TALE 71

Why the Culing has a Tonsure.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

In a certain field there lived two birds,--Pogo ("quail") and Culing
(a small black bird that has no feathers on the top of its head). One
day Pogo, while scratching the ground for food, met Culing. When
Culing saw Pogo, he said in a taunting tone, "Where are you going,
lazy one? Be more active. Don't be as lazy as a leech!"

Pogo became very angry. "You call me lazy!" he said. "You are much
lazier than I. Let us see which can fly higher into the sky!"

Thereupon Culing agreed, and he began to fly upward until he was lost
from sight. He flew so high, that his head touched the surface of the
sky. As the sky was hot, all the feathers on the top of his head were
burned off; and ever since, the culing has had a tonsure.

The Culeto and the Crow.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna. He
says, "This tradition is a favorite one among Tagalog children. I
have often heard the story told by old men while I was waiting my
turn at barber-shops in my province."

The culeto is a fine singer, but it is bald-headed. The natives often
capture it and train it to talk. Formerly this little black bird was
not so bald as it is to-day: its head, in fact, was covered with a
thick growth of feathers. And the crow, too: it was not black once,
but its feathers were as white as starch.

Once upon a time, shortly after the Deluge, the crow was merrily
crowing on the branch of a tree when the culeto came by. The voice of
the crow was so harsh, that the culeto made fun of it. "Good-morning,
Mr. Crow!" said the culeto, "I am very glad to hear you sing. Your
voice is so fine, that I cannot help closing my ears."

"Pray, think first of yourself!" answered the crow. "What do I care
for a good voice, so long as I have a strong body? Why don't you
laugh at yourself? See how weak and tiny you are!"

"Weak!" said the culeto. "Do you call me weak? I would fly a race
even with an eagle."

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed the crow. "The idea of racing the eagle when
you do not even dare race me!"

"Race with you! Why, you would only disgrace yourself," retorted
the culeto.

"Wait!" answered the crow. "Eat some more rice, drink some more water,
fill your body with more air! And wait till you grow bigger before
you venture to race with me!"