My personal favorites were that of two different stories of orphaned children who despite their tragic fates were able to survive the cruel circumstances thrown at them. These young hapless souls namely, “Sadsadyokana” and “Dongdongyapitan” had quite similar fortunes of being orphaned, entrusted under the guardianship of evil relatives and locked in dismal places like the “gungo” (makeshift shed where pig feed and poultry are shacked) and entombed in a large “lusongan” (mortar for pounding rice). Both characters, though scared, exemplified the resiliency of strong-hearted children who were ravenous for survival and life. To keep themselves alive in their little prisons, they had to make do with eating roaches and other crawling insects while braving the cold that bit their puny bodies. Like in any traditional folk tale, a twist of good fate arrives in the form of a guardian angel or mortal who will thwart the evil aunt or stepmom and rescue these poor lasses from their suffering.
Thinking about all these local folklores now brings back that giddy excitement that came with the anticipation of another evening session of stories with Lola. As to assuming that my little nieces and nephews have the same vigor I had for these tales, it’s a bit far-fetched. I know they’re more into anime and speeding to the next level of an online game but my skepticism does not extend to the point that they won’t appreciate a story or two. Everyone loves stories after all! Lola can still give them that for them to experience the same fascination I once had, if they want to that is.
It’s alarming to think that the failure to record these stories will mean their gradual obliteration as a part of our local heritage. These classics that were handed down through word of mouth around dying embers of the “dalikan” and in my case, under that rickety rattan chair, are proofs that local literature thrived and blossomed amidst these hills and mountains even way before the Anglican missionaries came.
The biting Siberian winds during these ber-months made me recall this shared love for stories with Lola. But doing so came the sharp sting of realization that these tales will be lost if they will not be immortalized in ink and paper. Then there’s that small jab of ambition to try… But that’s another story.