Filipino Popular Tales

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"The strength of a person," said the culeto, nettled, "is not to be
judged by his size. Don't you know that it is the smallest pepper
that is the hottest?"

"Well, then," replied the crow, "if you wish to race me now at your
own risk, let us begin!"

"One, two, three!" counted the culeto, and up they flew. During their
flight the two birds became separated from each other by a dense
cloud. The culeto flew at full speed so high upward, that he knocked
his head very hard against the door of the sky,--so hard, in fact, that
a large piece of skin was scraped from his scalp. The crow, having lost
his way, flew so near the sun, that his feathers were burned black.

It is on account of this bet between the culeto and the crow that
all the descendants of the former have been bald-headed, while all
the descendants of the crow have black feathers to-day.

The Hawk and the Coling.

Narrated by Agapito Gaa of Taal, Batangas. He says that this Tagalog
story is well known in every town in Batangas province. He heard the
story from his grandfather.

Early one morning a hawk sallied forth from his nest to find something
to eat. He flew so high that he could hardly be seen from the earth. He
looked down; but as he could not see anything, he flew lower and
lower, until he came to the top of a tree. On one of the branches
he saw sitting quietly a coling. The hawk despised the little bird,
and at once made up his mind to challenge him to a flight upward.

So the hawk said to the coling, "Do you wish to fly up into the sky
with me to see which of us can fly the faster and the higher?"

The coling did not answer at once, but he thought of the matter for
a while. Then he said to the hawk, "When do you want to have the race?"

"That is for you to decide," said the hawk. "If you wish to have it
now, well and good."

"Well," said the coling, "let us have it to-morrow morning before
sunrise!"

"All right," said the hawk.

"But," said the coling, "each of us is to carry a load with him to
make the flight a little more difficult."

"Well, what do you want to take with you?" said the hawk.

"I will take some salt," said the coling.

"Then I will take some cotton," replied the hawk. "Let us meet here
in this tree early to-morrow!" This agreed upon, the two birds
separated. The hawk went to the cotton-field and got his load of
cotton, while the coling went to the sea and got some salt.

The next morning they met in the tree, each having the object he would
carry with him in his flight. They asked the crow, who was present,
to be the judge of the contest. The crow accepted the commission, and
said that he would give a caw as a signal for them to start. He did so,
and the two contestants were off. At first the hawk flew faster and
higher than the coling; but very soon it began to rain. The cotton on
the hawk's back became soaked with water, and soon was very heavy;
but the salt on the coling's back was soon dissolved, and then he
had no load at all. Under these conditions, the coling soon overtook
the bigger bird. For a time they flew side by side; but after a few
minutes the coling had the best of the race, and in a little while
longer the hawk could no longer see his rival. But the coling flew
so high, that at last his head touched the sun, and all the feathers
on the top were burned off. The hawk now flew down to the crow, and
said that he had won the race, for the coling had fallen to the ground
dead. But by and by the coling himself came. He showed them the top
of his head as a proof that he had won the race. The crow gave his
decision in favor of the coling, and the hawk flew off disgraced.

From that time all colings have had the tops of their heads bald to
show that they are the descendants of the victorious bird.

Notes.

These three forms of the "flight-contest" incident are all from
southern Luzon,--the provinces of La Laguna and Batangas. The tale
seems to be definitely localized there. I know of its occurrence
nowhere else in the Islands. Nor have I found any Malayan variants.

For other pourquoi stories of why certain birds are bald, see
Daehnhardt, 3 : 11-14. Daehnhardt (ibid., 142) cites a Ceylon tale of
the crow and the drongo, who had a bet as to which could fly the higher
carrying a load. Crow selected tree-cotton for his burden; but Drongo,
noticing the black rain-clouds overhead, carried salt, and thus won;
for his load became constantly lighter, while Crow's became heavier.

With the explanation given in the second tale of this group of why the
crow is black, compare a Pawnee story (JAFL 6 : 126), in which a crow,
which is sent to the sun to get fire, has all his feathers singed.

TALE 72

Why the Cow's Skin is Loose on the Neck.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

There was once a poor farmer who possessed a cow and a carabao. These
two animals were his only wealth. Every day he led them to the field
to plough. He worked his animals so hard, that they often complained to
him; but the cruel master would not even listen to their words. One day
the cow, who had grown tired of this kind of life, said to the carabao,
"Let us run away from this evil man! Though we are very dirty, he is
not willing for us even to take a bath. If we remain here with him,
we shall be as ugly and as filthy as pigs. If we run away from him,
however, he will have to do his own work, and then we shall be
revenged. Hurry up! Let us go!"

The spirit of the carabao was aroused: he jumped with a loud roar,
and said, "I too have long been meditating escape, but I hesitated
because I was afraid you might not be willing to join me in flight. We
are so ill-treated by our cruel master, that God will have pity on
us. Come on! Let us go!"

The two animals at once set out, running as fast as they could,
always trying to avoid any human beings. When they came to a river,
the cow said, "We are very dirty. Let us take a bath before we go
on! The water of this river is so clean and clear, that we shall soon
be as clean as we were before our contemptible master got hold of us."

The carabao answered, "We would better run a little farther, for
perhaps our master is already in pursuit of us. Besides, we are very
tired now, and I have been told that to take a bath when one is tired
injures the health."

"Don't believe that!" returned the cow. "Our bodies are so big,
that we do not need to fear sickness."

At last the carabao was persuaded by the arguments of the cow; and
he said, "All right! Let us take off our clothes before we go into
the water!"

The two animals then stripped themselves of all their clothes, then
they plunged into the deep, cool river. They had been in the water
less than an hour, however, when they saw their master coming after
them with a big stick in his hand. They ran up to where their clothes
were; but in their haste the carabao put on the cow's clothes, and the
cow got the carabao's. As soon as they were dressed, they continued
their mad flight; and as their master was very tired, he had to give
up the chase and return home disappointed.

Since the carabao was larger than the cow, the skin on the cow's neck
has been loose ever since, because the two friends were separated
and could never exchange clothes again. And likewise the skin on the
carabao's neck has been tight ever since these two animals made their
mistake in dressing.

The First Loose-Skinned Cow and the First Tight-Skinned Carabao.

Narrated by Amanda Morente, a Tagalog from Pinamalayan, Mindoro. She
heard the story from an old woman of her town.

Many years ago, when the people of the world were still few in number
and the animals took the place of servants, an old man bought a cow
and a carabao from his neighbor. With these animals he travelled until
he reached the top of a mountain. There they saw a cave, and the
old man told his servants to enter and see if there was any danger
inside. With slow and cautious steps the carabao and the cow went
in, examining every corner. All at once the cow perceived something
moving. In his fright he jumped back, and hid behind his companion;
but the slow-going carabao did not see the figure, and suddenly he
felt his hind leg seized in a strong grasp. The god of the cave had
caught him. Then the god of the cave spoke. His voice was terrifying,
but his words were kind. He told them how for many days he had been
hungry, and he asked for meat. The cow, whose courage had by this
time been somewhat restored, gladly offered him some of her master's
provisions, which she was carrying. In return for this kindness,
the god gave each of the animals a dress: to the carabao he gave one
of gold; and to the cow, one of bronze. He also invited the two to
remain with him and be his servants.

Some time after the two friends had been installed in their new home,
the god of the cave sent them one day to gather fruits. The carabao and
the cow were delighted at this prospect of a change, and they jumped
with joy. They rushed out into the woods; and when they came to a pond,
they took off their new clothes and plunged into the soft mud. While
they were enjoying their bath, they saw their master coming. He was
carrying a big stick. They knew very well that he would beat them,
for they had been away the whole morning. In their haste to get
their clothes back on, they made a mistake: the carabao got into the
cow's dress, and the cow into the carabao's. After that they never
exchanged their clothes, which finally became their outer skin. So
to-day the carabao has a tight bronze-colored skin; and the cow,
a loose golden-colored one.

Note.

Like the preceding, this story appears to be a native Tagalog tale. I
know of no other variants.

TALE 73

Why the Monkey is Wise.

Narrated by Francisco M. Africa.

Once upon a time there lived a poor man who had seven sons. These
young men, all except the youngest, helped their aged father with
the work; but the family became poorer and poorer. One day, when they
had exhausted all their means of support, the father called his sons
before him. To every son he assigned a certain kind of work, so that
there might be cooperation, and hence efficiency, in the labors of the
humble family. To the youngest son was assigned the task of gathering
sticks in the forest for fuel.

Not long afterwards a pestilence broke out in the little town where the
old man lived, and all his sons but the youngest died. The father was
left to starve on his bed, for his only living son was so ungrateful
as not to give any help to his father in his last years. When the old
man was about to breathe his last, he called his son to give him his
final benediction; but the ungrateful boy, instead of going to his
dying father, ran away into the woods, and the old man passed away
without anybody to care for him.

But God punished the unfilial son; he cursed him; and the boy lost
his power of speech, and was condemned to live in the forests ever
after as a monkey. Thus, although monkeys cannot talk, they are wise
because they are descended from a human being.

Notes.

I know of no analogues of this story, but will cite two other Filipino
myths accounting for the origin of monkeys. The first was narrated
by Antonio Maceda, a Tagalog from Pagsanjan, who heard it from his
grandfather. The story follows.

Origin of the Monkey.

A long time ago the world, which was divided into earth and heaven,
was very lonesome, for Bathala was the only living being in it. He
lived in heaven. One day Bathala felt so lonely, that the thought of
creating some living beings for his companions came into his mind. He
had never thought of this before, although with his infinite power he
could do anything he pleased. So he came down to earth to get some
clay; but he found the ground very dry, for there was no such thing
as rain on the earth. Immediately he said, "Let there be rain!" and
the rain fell down. Then, with a large load of slippery clay, Bathala
returned to heaven and began the work of creation. He created men,
birds, plants, mountains, and rivers (sic!). While he was in the act
of creating men, however, an accident occurred. As he was moulding
a piece of clay into the shape of a man, the mould slipped from his
left hand. Bathala was quick enough to grasp the back of this lifeless
mass of clay; but the clay was so soft that it stretched out into a
long rope, and the mould fell into a tree. In his anger, Bathala said,
"I curse thee! Thou shalt have life, but thou shalt inhabit trees. The
part of thy body that has been stretched out into a rope shall become
thy tail."

The lifeless mould was at once changed into a monkey, the
great-grandfather of all the monkeys.

The following story was written down by Sotero Albano, an Ilocano
from Dingras, Ilocos Norte:--

The First Monkey.

Long years ago there lived in a thick forest a young girl under the
care of the goddess of weaving. Here she lived happily and without
care, for everything that she wanted to eat was provided for her by
her patroness.

One day the goddess said to the girl, "Take this cotton, clean it,
and make out of it a dress for yourself." Now, the girl knew nothing
about making cloth and weaving it: so she said to the goddess,
"When the cotton is cleaned, is it ready for use?"

"No," answered her guardian; "after it is cleaned, it must be
beaten." "Well, after it is beaten, is it ready for use?" said the
lazy girl.

The goddess said that before it could be used, it would have to
be spun.

"Well, after it is spun," persisted the saucy maiden, "is it ready
for use?"

"No; it must next be woven into cloth, cut, and sewed," answered the
patient goddess.

"Oh!" said the girl, "it will take a long time and much hard work to
make clothes that way. This leather hide, which you have given me to
beat the cotton on, will make me better clothing, because it will
wear longer." So she covered herself with the leather. The goddess
was so angry at the girl for her laziness, that she determined that
the leather should not only be her dress, but also become her very
skin. Then the goddess took the stick for beating the cotton, and,
thrusting it between the maiden's buttocks, said to her, "This
stick will become a part of your body, and you will use it for
climbing-purposes. As a penalty for your laziness, henceforth you
shall live in trees in the forest, and there you will find your food."

Thus originated the first monkey with a coat of leather and a tail.

Obviously connected with this Ilocano story are three Tinguian myths
recorded by Cole, who abstracts them thus:--

(No. 65.) A lazy man, who is planting corn, constantly leans on his
planting-stick. It becomes a tail, and he turns into a monkey.

(No. 66.) A boy is too lazy to strip sugarcane for himself. His mother,
in anger, tells him to stick it up his anus. He does so, and becomes
a monkey.

(No. 67.) A lazy girl pretends she does not know how to spin. Her
companions, in disgust, tell her to stick the spinning-stick up her
anus. She does so, and at once changes into a monkey.

Compare also a Bagobo story collected by Miss Benedict (JAFL 26 :
21), where a ladle becomes a monkey's tail; also an African saga in
Daehnhardt (3 : 488).

The Filipinos have other explanatory myths which credit Lucifer with
the creation of monkeys and snakes.

TALE 74

The Lost Necklace.

Narrated by Facundo Esquivel, a Tagalog, who heard the story from a
friend from Cebu. The story is Visayan.

Once a crow bought a fine necklace from a merchant. He was very proud
of his purchase, which he immediately put around his neck, so that
everybody could see it. Then he flew away, and came to a beautiful
little garden, where he met his old friend the hen strutting about,
with her chicks following her. The hen said to him, "Oh, what a fine
necklace you have! May I borrow it? I will return it to you to-morrow
without fail."

Now, the crow liked the hen: so he willingly lent her the necklace
for a day. The next morning, when the crow returned for his property,
he found the hen and her chicks scratching the ground near an old
wall. "Where is my necklace?" said the crow.

"It is lost," said the hen. "My chicks took it yesterday while I was
asleep, and now they do not remember where they put it. We have been
looking for it all day, and yet we have not been able to find it."

"You must pay for it at once," said the crow, "or else I shall go to
the king and tell him that you stole my necklace."

The hen was frightened at this reply, and she began to wonder how she
could raise the necessary money. The crow, who was on his way to a
fiesta, at last said impatiently, "I will take one of your chicks every
day in payment of what you owe me. As soon as you find the necklace,
give it to me, and then I will stop eating your chicks." The hen had
to be satisfied with this arrangement, for she feared that the crow
would go to the king if she refused.

Unto this day, then, you can find hens and chicks together looking for
the lost necklace by scratching the ground; and the crows are still
exacting payment for the lost jewel by eating chicks. It is said that
the hens and chickens will never cease scratching the ground until
the lost necklace is found.

The Cock and the Sparrow-Hawk.

Narrated by Dolores Asuncion of Manila. She heard the story from an
old Tagalog.

Long ago the sparrow-hawk and the cock were very good friends. Once,
when the cocks were going to hold a great fiesta in the neighboring
village, a proud young rooster, who wished to get the reputation for
being rich and consequently win him a wife, went to the sparrow-hawk,
and said, "My friend, please lend me your bracelet! I am going to
our fiesta; and I wish to make some young hens there believe that I
am rich, in order that they may love me."

The sparrow-hawk answered, "With much pleasure, my friend."

So the cock went to the fiesta wearing the borrowed bracelet. While he
was dancing, however, he lost the jewel, and could find it nowhere. At
last he went back to the sparrow-hawk, and said, "I am very sorry,
my friend, but I lost your bracelet while I was dancing, and I can
find it nowhere. What do you wish me to give you in payment for it?"

The sparrow-hawk answered, "Since that bracelet was an heirloom, I
valued it very highly. You must go back to the place where you think
you lost it, and there look for it until you find it. In the mean
time I reserve the right to take from your flock a chicken whenever
I please."

So, ever since that time sparrow-hawks are often seen carrying off
young chickens, while the cocks have been busy scratching the ground
to find the lost bracelet. Hens also scratch the soil, for they hate
to lose their chicks, and they want to find the bracelet as soon as
possible. They look up into the sky to see if the sparrow-hawk is near;
then they scratch the soll vigorously, and cry, "Tac-ta-laoc!" which
means, "Come and help me!"

Note.

Another Visayan variant of these two stories may be found in the
"Journal of American Folk-Lore" (20 : 100), whence it has been
reprinted by M. C. Cole (p. 212), "The Hawk and the Hen." An African
analogue may be found in Dayrell (No. xv, p. 62).

TALE 75

The Story of our Fingers.

Narrated by Leopoldo Uichanco, a Tagalog from Calamba, La Laguna.

"Why," said Antonio to his grandfather one day, "does our thumb stand
separate from the other fingers?"

"That is only so in our days," replied old Julian. "In the days of
long ago the fingers of our ancestors stood together in the same
position. One day one of these fingers, the one we call the little
finger, became very hungry, and he asked the finger next to him to
give him some food.

"'O brother!' said the Ring-Finger in reply, 'I am hungry also;
but where shall we get food?'

"'Heaven is merciful,' put in the Middle-Finger, trying to comfort
his two brothers; 'Heaven will give us some.'

"'But, Brother Middle-Finger,' protested the Forefinger, 'what if
Heaven gives us no food?'

"'Well, then,' interposed the Thumb, 'let us steal!'

"'Steal!' echoed the Forefinger, not at all pleased by the advice that
had just been given. 'Mr. Thumb knows better than to do that, I hope!'

"'That is bad policy, Mr. Thumb,' concluded the other three
unanimously. 'Your idea is against morality, against God, against
yourself, against everybody. Our conscience will not permit us
to steal.'

"'Oh, no, no!' returned Thumb angrily, 'you are greatly mistaken,
my friends! Haven't you sense enough even to know how foolish you
are to oppose my plan? Do you call my scheme bad policy,--to save
your lives and mine?'

"'Ay, if that be your plan,' said the other four fingers, 'you
can go your own way. As for us, we would rather starve and die than
steal.' Then the four virtuous brothers drove Thumb in shame out of
their community, and would have nothing more to do with him.

"So that is why," concluded old Julian, "we see our thumbs separated
from the other four fingers. He was a thief; and the other four,
who were honest, did not care to live with him. And it is because
Little-Finger did not have enough to eat, that we see him lean and
weak these days."

Note.

I know of no other Filipino accounts of why the thumb is separated
from the rest of the fingers. As an interesting curiosity, however,
I might cite a Bicol children's jingle of five lines which characterize
briefly the five fingers (the thumb is the last described) :--

Maya-mayang saday
Magayon na singsignan
Daculang mangmang
Atrevido
Hababang tao

"Pretty little sparrow,
Beautiful for a ring,
Long but lazy fellow,
Froward, insolent thing,
Dumpy, dwarfish one."

TALE 76

Why Snails Climb up Grass.

Narrated by Jose E. Tomeldan of Binalonan, Pangasinan.

Long ago, when the various kinds of animals dwelt together in a kind
of community, a dalag (a kind of mud-fish), a dragonfly, a wasp, and
a snail agreed to live together in a common house. They furthermore
agreed to divide up the different household duties according to
their power and skill. Accordingly, Dalag, since he was the biggest
and strongest of all, was made the head of the house. He was also
to provide food for his little companions. Dragon-Fly was made the
messenger, because he was the swiftest of them all, but was too weak
for any other kind of work. Wasp was made the house-guard because
of his poisonous sting. Besides being guard, he was also to keep
the house in repair, because he could carry bits of earth and other
building-materials. Snail was made the cook, because he was too slow
for any other duty except tending the house.

Early one day Dalag went out to look for food. He swam slowly here and
there among the water-plants, when suddenly he saw something moving
on the surface of the water. When he approached nearer, he saw that
it was a big frog swimming helplessly among the duck-weeds. "This
is a big piece of sweet food for us," thought Dalag, and without
hesitation he seized the frog. When he had assured himself that it
could not get away from him, he started to swim home. But, alas! he
never reached his companions; for a sharp hook was inside the frog,
and poor Dalag was caught fast. He tried hard to free himself, but
in rain. Soon a fisherman came, and, putting Dalag in his basket,
took him home and ate him.

In the mean time Dalag's three companions were anxiously waiting for
him. When they realized that he was lost, Dragon-Fly was sent out to
look for him. Before he went, Dragon-Fly spent a long time arranging
his neck-tie. Then he flew away, turning his head in all directions to
look for Dalag. At last he met Bolasi (a kind of fish whose lips always
move in and out on the surface of the water), and he became very angry
because he thought that Bolasi was laughing at his neck-tie. Dragon-Fly
thought that his tie must be too loose, so he tightened it. Still
Bolasi laughed every time he saw Dragon-Fly. Dragon-Fly kept drawing
his tie tighter and tighter, until at last he cut his own head off,
and that was the end of him.

Two days had now passed; still Dalag and Dragon-Fly were missing from
home. By this time Wasp and Snail were very hungry. But Snail had the
advantage over Wasp; for Snail could eat mud to pass away the time,
while Wasp could not eat mud, but could only draw in his belt a little
tighter. At last Wasp could no longer endure his hunger. His abdomen
by this time had become very slender: so he flew forth in search of
either Dalag or Dragon-Fly. While he was flying about, his hunger
oppressed him so much, that he tightened his belt again and again,
until he finally broke in two; and that was the end of Wasp.

Now only Snail was left. He set out from his home, and wandered
everywhere in search of his three companions, weeping as he went. His
food consisted mostly of mud. Whenever he could find a stalk of grass
or the stem of a water-plant, Snail would climb up to look around
and to see if any of his old friends were in sight. Even to-day the
snails still weep; and whenever they see a stalk of grass projecting
above the surface of the water, they climb up and look around, trying
to discover their old friends.