by Justine Camacho – Tajonera

1 Bella

She wasn’t beautiful. Which was why I always wondered why her mother named her Bella. Her eyes were too far apart, her lips a little too large for her face. She was gangly, awkward. Her hands and feet were freakishly long and narrow. And sometimes, talking to her, you felt that she wasn’t entirely there. 

I met her the summer I turned sixteen. My parents were having a spat and they thought it best to ship me to the province while they were figuring things out for themselves. I stayed with my aunt, the single remaining sibling of my mother, who lived in their ancestral home in barangay Barahan, Pola, Sta. Cruz, Mindoro Occidental. Tita Osang lived in a traditional turn-of-the-century home with the most basic addition of electricity and some plumbing.  She was a formidable woman who ran a rice and cattle farm on her own. She put together an efficient household. When I arrived, she put me to work alongside her farmhands, no questions asked. My day began at four in the morning and ended at seven in the evening. Despite a day full of physical labor, she let me run wild, on my own, at around four in the afternoon. That was how I met Bella. 

Kadi Serafica lives in Isabela, Philippines. He has been fascinated by Pinoy myths and folklore as far as he can remember. He has a collection of Filipiana books on history, religion, and the supernatural. He writes fantasy and horror that celebrates Pinoy culture, and authored The Awakening which was published by Paperkat Books. The Awakening, available in select Fully Booked Stores and Lazada, is the first of a planned eight volumes of interconnected short stories that explore a modern world where all myths and folklore are real. His next book, Days of the Elder Gods, comes out in 2025. 

by Kadi Serafica

One would not fault an observer for assuming Facunda Praxedes Santisima was 60 years younger than her 122 years. Her skin may be wrinkled and her back bent, but she was as agile as she had always been. When queried, Facunda would reveal a mastery of Tagalog, Cebuano, Waray, Ilocano, Tausug, Spanish, and a form of Baybayin she called Letra y Santisima. Every so often she convinced a guest by navigating at that perilous line between decency and forcefulness, to sit-in for a trail down memory lane on how she, as a young woman was able to unite her clan, the Santisima, by learning the language of each branch, and through adventures grafted the disparate branches back into the family tree under her leadership. 

Facunda’s vision was as sharp as it had ever been. Her sense of smell had not lost its edge. And yet she always felt weary these days. Facunda couldn’t pin-point exactly when she started feeling old. It snuck on her. A muscle cramp from stepping on a loose stone, then a bad back from sleeping in the wrong position. Her knees flaring up and then a migraine upstages it, minor pains and aches. No more than a nuisance, really. But they kept piling up. On and on a parade of discomfort. Like the ghosts of her departed, they haunted her. 

Funa-ay Claver is an Indigenous youth from the Cordillera, Philippines, specifically a Bontok from Mountain Province. She is currently a 4th year BA Creative Writing student in the University of the Philippines-Diliman. She actively participates in several Indigenous Peoples (IP) rights organizations, serving as the Secretary-General of Asia Young Indigenous Peoples Network and Spokesperson of KATRIBU Alliance. Funa-ay was published in Ili Press, based in Baguio City, for her poem, “Mountain-minded” and creative nonfiction piece, “The Butatiw.” She writes with the intention of shedding light on the IP struggle as well as to reclaim narratives of the Indigenous Peoples to battle cultural, social, and economic discrimination. “What We Choose to Keep”, the featured story for February,  is her first published short story. 

by Funa-ay Claver

Maiaw-awan

It was the third week of school already, and by this time, everyone had their own groups they gravitated to every time the bell rang. Everyone knew where to go when class was over. Everyone knew where to sit and who to share their food with. Everyone except Nini.

Nini still ate alone at lunchtime, and she always took her time doing so, chewing ten times before swallowing and pretending that she was disinterested in the taste. She wouldn’t know what to do in the remaining minutes of lunchtime if she finished eating too fast. She didn’t want to look lonely. 

It wasn’t that she was ugly, as was usually the reason for becoming a high school outcast. It was more that the others viewed her as a bit dim, and dim students did not belong in this school. Only the smartest came here, or so she was told when everyone in Bahong was convincing her to take the scholarship even if it meant leaving home. Everyone counted on her to be something different from the rest of her community, but what did different mean?