Categories > Original > Fantasy > Amihan of the Mountain
I was tired, I suppose. The third time I woke up, it had taken me nearly an hour to get back to sleep. Whatever my reason was, I knew when I blinked groggily up at my sister's face that it would not be enough to excuse my lapse.
"Get up," she said. "You can't be lazing in bed when you have work to do."
I got up and padded out of the room and into the kitchen. After splashing my face with water from the big earthen jar, I went back to the room and opened the trunk standing against the wall. The kimona I'd been working on for days lay on top of my clothes, seeming to glow in the light. After making sure my sister wouldn't be barging in any time soon, I lifted the delicate white blouse and laid it out on the cot, then took out the royal blue skirt I'd made to go with it. The kimona was made mostly of ivory linen, as I couldn't afford the exquisite piña cloth Aling Estelita used to create the elegant gowns and shawls wealthy matrons wore. Instead, I'd helped out at Aling Estelita's dress shop in exchange for leftover scraps of piña, then stayed up nights sewing the garment. The delicate, semi-transparent piña weave adorned the top part of the blouse, leaving my shoulders bare while billowing folds of linen flowed down to my wrists. The piña design continued down the front part of the blouse. A few sequins, given to me in an uncharacteristic moment of generosity by Aling Estelita, dotted the collar. I picked up the skirt and held it against myself, then twirled around, relishing the way it swung lightly around my legs. I smiled. It was perfect for dancing.
"What are you still doing here, Amihan? You' haven't cooked the molo soup yet. The fiesta's about to begin."
My head snapped up guiltily as my sister walked into the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blouse and skirt. "Is that one of mine?" she said accusingly.
I shook my head. "It's mine, Ate Sinag. I made it."
She raised her eyebrows.
"For the celebration tonight," I added.
"You made this? Hmph. No wonder it looks strange." She eyed the kimona disdainfully.
I said nothing. The kimona was beautiful. It must be, if Cousin Marikit tried to make me give it to her again, which for once I adamantly refused.
"And this," Sinag went on, pointing at the piña patterns on the front. "Why, it's positively indecent. What will our neighbors think? Have you gone to Father Jorge for confession?"
I blinked at the abrupt shift. "Yes."
"Well, you will have to go back when he sees you in this. Amihan, I can't let you wear this. You're still too young. You should wait until you're older to wear dresses like this."
"I'm sixteen years old, Ate Sinag."
"Then wait until you're eighteen, and don't talk back to me, young lady," my sister snapped. I swallowed a retort. Apparently, I was a 'young lady' only when I was being scolded for childishness. "Besides, you have plenty of nice clothes to wear. You can borrow one of my kimonas if you want," she added magnanimously.
Your /kimonas are too big for me/, I wanted to tell her. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be left alone.
"Tia Isabel and I are going to the Diwata's shrine to prepare it for tonight," she announced. "When you're done with the cooking, go over to the plaza and make sure the boys have brought out the statues of Jesus and the Virgin."
"How does Father Jorge ever let you get away with it?" I muttered.
Sinag smiled pityingly. "Because, little sister, our bloodline holds the true magic. You should know this by now. The Diwata is the same everywhere, Amihan. Even Father Jorge has his Virgin Mary. Besides, I told him that if he has any problems, he can take it up with me. And he never has." Her smile turned smug before she swept out of the room.
I stared down at my kimona. I knew well why Father Jorge never bothered Sinag about her being the priestess of a pagan religion. I'd seen older and far worldlier men than the parish priest reduced to babbling idiocy in the presence of my sister. She was beautiful, clever and confident, and the town whispered that as a /babaylan/-a guardian-priestess of the spirit world-she was even more powerful than our mother had been. Suitors flocked from far and wide to worship at her feet, but Sinag had declared that she would not marry anyone who wasn't her equal in every way. Besides, anyone who wished to become bridegroom to my formidable sister would have to face my brother Habagat in combat. My brother, the strongest warrior in three provinces, who had not lost a challenge yet. The odds of a swain winning my sister's hand in marriage, let alone surviving long enough to make it to the wedding night, was daunting, to say the least.
Sighing, I folded up my kimona and put it back in the trunk, changing instead into a serviceable cotton blouse and skirt. A part of me still smarted from Sinag's offhand dismissal of my creation and wanted nothing more than to thumb my nose at her and wear the kimona anyway. After all, she couldn't very well punish me by sending me back home in the middle of the celebration...could she? The idea of rebelling against my sister lost even more steam when I realized that my brother and Tia Isabel, not to mention our cousins, would certainly side with Sinag. My sister I could probably handle, but not the entire family. They would eat me alive.
On my way to the kitchen, I stopped by the door to peer out into the street. The buntings the men had hung over the streets glinted in the sunlight like floating jewels. Wreathes of flowers made from rice paper decorated doorways and windows, fluttering invitingly in the breeze. The air was turning muggy with the delicious aromas of beef caldereta/, grilled catfish, roasting pig and garlic rice. It was fiesta day today. Every household opened its doors to everyone; friends and strangers alike were invited to come in and share in the feast. Nobody remembered how the fiestas of the /Diwata began, but it was a tradition that went back even before the first friars had bathed the town in holy water and declared it Christian. The long centuries were as nothing compared to the power and allure of the Diwata of the Mountain, but I suppose the free food and dancing didn't hurt. I knew enough though to keep that cynical thought to myself.
Children darted toward the plaza, with their parents following more sedately. The plaza was where the stage had been set, with its curtains of flowers and pedestals for Father Jorge's statues, intended to give some semblance of Church sanction over the celebration. In order to soothe the priest's ruffled feathers, Sinag and Tia Isabel had agreed to let Father Jorge preside over the opening ceremony today. Everyone knew, however, that the real celebration would be held tonight when Sinag, as the Diwata's priestess, would journey into the shrine of the Diwata of the Mountain with the town's offerings and return with her blessings and promise of protection. The town's warriors, led by my brother, would then perform the Dance of Fire to honor the Diwata's Guardian. And after that, the dancing and merry-making would begin in earnest.
And I, I thought glumly as I hauled out the pot for the molo soup, would spend this year's fiesta the same way I always had. Standing on the sidelines, making sure that my brother and sister shone as radiant as the stars.
--------------
Some cultural notes:
Yes, this story is borrowing heavily--though not quite accurately--from Philippine mythology. Anyone familiar with Philippine literature will also be able to spot a much-abused literary device...so sorry about that. Anyway, here're a few explanations about terms used, although I think a lot of them have been explained in the story proper.
Take note, for most Filipino words with more than two syllables, the emphasis is on the second syllable unless otherwise indicated. Also, vowels are pronounced the way Spanish or Japanese vowels are (no twangs, please).
Diwata - roughly means "goddess"
engkanto - elf or elves
kimona - a very pretty loose blouse with large sleeves matched with a skirt made of heavy brocade or some other ornamental cloth. Kimonas are used now in formal affairs
piña - an elegant weave made out of pineapple fibers. It's expensive because the process of making piña cloth is a long, arduous one
babaylan - priestess, quite, quite non-Catholic
Ate - (ah-te) Big Sister, as in Oneesan in Japanese
Kuya - (ku-yah) Big Brother, as in Oniisan in Japanese
Tia - of Chinese origin (I think), means "Aunt". The two syllables are pronounced quickly, so it sounds almost like "cha."
Well, that's about it for now. Thanks again for reading!
"Get up," she said. "You can't be lazing in bed when you have work to do."
I got up and padded out of the room and into the kitchen. After splashing my face with water from the big earthen jar, I went back to the room and opened the trunk standing against the wall. The kimona I'd been working on for days lay on top of my clothes, seeming to glow in the light. After making sure my sister wouldn't be barging in any time soon, I lifted the delicate white blouse and laid it out on the cot, then took out the royal blue skirt I'd made to go with it. The kimona was made mostly of ivory linen, as I couldn't afford the exquisite piña cloth Aling Estelita used to create the elegant gowns and shawls wealthy matrons wore. Instead, I'd helped out at Aling Estelita's dress shop in exchange for leftover scraps of piña, then stayed up nights sewing the garment. The delicate, semi-transparent piña weave adorned the top part of the blouse, leaving my shoulders bare while billowing folds of linen flowed down to my wrists. The piña design continued down the front part of the blouse. A few sequins, given to me in an uncharacteristic moment of generosity by Aling Estelita, dotted the collar. I picked up the skirt and held it against myself, then twirled around, relishing the way it swung lightly around my legs. I smiled. It was perfect for dancing.
"What are you still doing here, Amihan? You' haven't cooked the molo soup yet. The fiesta's about to begin."
My head snapped up guiltily as my sister walked into the room. Her eyes widened at the sight of the blouse and skirt. "Is that one of mine?" she said accusingly.
I shook my head. "It's mine, Ate Sinag. I made it."
She raised her eyebrows.
"For the celebration tonight," I added.
"You made this? Hmph. No wonder it looks strange." She eyed the kimona disdainfully.
I said nothing. The kimona was beautiful. It must be, if Cousin Marikit tried to make me give it to her again, which for once I adamantly refused.
"And this," Sinag went on, pointing at the piña patterns on the front. "Why, it's positively indecent. What will our neighbors think? Have you gone to Father Jorge for confession?"
I blinked at the abrupt shift. "Yes."
"Well, you will have to go back when he sees you in this. Amihan, I can't let you wear this. You're still too young. You should wait until you're older to wear dresses like this."
"I'm sixteen years old, Ate Sinag."
"Then wait until you're eighteen, and don't talk back to me, young lady," my sister snapped. I swallowed a retort. Apparently, I was a 'young lady' only when I was being scolded for childishness. "Besides, you have plenty of nice clothes to wear. You can borrow one of my kimonas if you want," she added magnanimously.
Your /kimonas are too big for me/, I wanted to tell her. Suddenly, all I wanted was to be left alone.
"Tia Isabel and I are going to the Diwata's shrine to prepare it for tonight," she announced. "When you're done with the cooking, go over to the plaza and make sure the boys have brought out the statues of Jesus and the Virgin."
"How does Father Jorge ever let you get away with it?" I muttered.
Sinag smiled pityingly. "Because, little sister, our bloodline holds the true magic. You should know this by now. The Diwata is the same everywhere, Amihan. Even Father Jorge has his Virgin Mary. Besides, I told him that if he has any problems, he can take it up with me. And he never has." Her smile turned smug before she swept out of the room.
I stared down at my kimona. I knew well why Father Jorge never bothered Sinag about her being the priestess of a pagan religion. I'd seen older and far worldlier men than the parish priest reduced to babbling idiocy in the presence of my sister. She was beautiful, clever and confident, and the town whispered that as a /babaylan/-a guardian-priestess of the spirit world-she was even more powerful than our mother had been. Suitors flocked from far and wide to worship at her feet, but Sinag had declared that she would not marry anyone who wasn't her equal in every way. Besides, anyone who wished to become bridegroom to my formidable sister would have to face my brother Habagat in combat. My brother, the strongest warrior in three provinces, who had not lost a challenge yet. The odds of a swain winning my sister's hand in marriage, let alone surviving long enough to make it to the wedding night, was daunting, to say the least.
Sighing, I folded up my kimona and put it back in the trunk, changing instead into a serviceable cotton blouse and skirt. A part of me still smarted from Sinag's offhand dismissal of my creation and wanted nothing more than to thumb my nose at her and wear the kimona anyway. After all, she couldn't very well punish me by sending me back home in the middle of the celebration...could she? The idea of rebelling against my sister lost even more steam when I realized that my brother and Tia Isabel, not to mention our cousins, would certainly side with Sinag. My sister I could probably handle, but not the entire family. They would eat me alive.
On my way to the kitchen, I stopped by the door to peer out into the street. The buntings the men had hung over the streets glinted in the sunlight like floating jewels. Wreathes of flowers made from rice paper decorated doorways and windows, fluttering invitingly in the breeze. The air was turning muggy with the delicious aromas of beef caldereta/, grilled catfish, roasting pig and garlic rice. It was fiesta day today. Every household opened its doors to everyone; friends and strangers alike were invited to come in and share in the feast. Nobody remembered how the fiestas of the /Diwata began, but it was a tradition that went back even before the first friars had bathed the town in holy water and declared it Christian. The long centuries were as nothing compared to the power and allure of the Diwata of the Mountain, but I suppose the free food and dancing didn't hurt. I knew enough though to keep that cynical thought to myself.
Children darted toward the plaza, with their parents following more sedately. The plaza was where the stage had been set, with its curtains of flowers and pedestals for Father Jorge's statues, intended to give some semblance of Church sanction over the celebration. In order to soothe the priest's ruffled feathers, Sinag and Tia Isabel had agreed to let Father Jorge preside over the opening ceremony today. Everyone knew, however, that the real celebration would be held tonight when Sinag, as the Diwata's priestess, would journey into the shrine of the Diwata of the Mountain with the town's offerings and return with her blessings and promise of protection. The town's warriors, led by my brother, would then perform the Dance of Fire to honor the Diwata's Guardian. And after that, the dancing and merry-making would begin in earnest.
And I, I thought glumly as I hauled out the pot for the molo soup, would spend this year's fiesta the same way I always had. Standing on the sidelines, making sure that my brother and sister shone as radiant as the stars.
--------------
Some cultural notes:
Yes, this story is borrowing heavily--though not quite accurately--from Philippine mythology. Anyone familiar with Philippine literature will also be able to spot a much-abused literary device...so sorry about that. Anyway, here're a few explanations about terms used, although I think a lot of them have been explained in the story proper.
Take note, for most Filipino words with more than two syllables, the emphasis is on the second syllable unless otherwise indicated. Also, vowels are pronounced the way Spanish or Japanese vowels are (no twangs, please).
Diwata - roughly means "goddess"
engkanto - elf or elves
kimona - a very pretty loose blouse with large sleeves matched with a skirt made of heavy brocade or some other ornamental cloth. Kimonas are used now in formal affairs
piña - an elegant weave made out of pineapple fibers. It's expensive because the process of making piña cloth is a long, arduous one
babaylan - priestess, quite, quite non-Catholic
Ate - (ah-te) Big Sister, as in Oneesan in Japanese
Kuya - (ku-yah) Big Brother, as in Oniisan in Japanese
Tia - of Chinese origin (I think), means "Aunt". The two syllables are pronounced quickly, so it sounds almost like "cha."
Well, that's about it for now. Thanks again for reading!
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