Tsuru

By Macario D. Tiu

If it weren’t for her fear of Japanese troops, Peryang would have returned to Zamboanga
a long time ago. She was deathly bored in Malayal. True, they were safe from the dangers of war
but she was simply tired of the place. There wasn’t much amusement, no place for leisure. In
front of her was the ocean; behind her, the mountains and forest. But she had to bear everything
for the last three years than taste the cruelty of the Japanese. Stories about huez de cuchillo
frightened her. Those bowlegged savages! Utterly merciless! Imagine, even the children?
Thrown up into the air and then caught by a bayonet? The innocent children! And Peryang
scooped up her two-year-old child who was playing on the mat that covered the dirt floor.

“God forbid, Nene! God forbid,” she said, showering the child with kisses.

The child trashed in her arms because her doll fell on the floor. Peryang put her back on
the mat and left her to play on her own.

Good thing no Japanese had strayed yet into Malayal. There were rumors the Japanese
would attack them but, with God’s mercy, nothing had happened. It was probably because they
were too far away from Zamboanga, where the Japanese had their camp. She had no idea what to
do if the Japanese were to come!

Peryang sighed and looked at the sea. At the right side where the coastline disappeared
into a curve, she saw a group of people heading towards their barrio. She looked steadily at them.
Though running, they appeared to be in formation. They had long firearms! With bayonets! The
earflaps of their hats swayed wildly. Japanese! Lots of Japanese!

Peryang’s entire body shook. Juez de cuchillo! This was the first thing that came to her
mind. She wanted to run away but she couldn’t move. She wanted to shout but no sound would
come out of her mouth. As they came closer to the barrio, the Japanese soldiers fanned out.
Some turned toward the mountains, others headed to the barrio, and two Japanese soldiers went
inside her hut! One of the soldiers aimed his bayonet at her. The more she couldn’t move. But
when she heard her child cry upon seeing the soldiers, Peryang seemed to be jolted and was
suddenly able to move.

“Don’t!” She covered her child to protect her. “Don’t! Please, have mercy!”

The Japanese merely stood. The other soldier checked the room. When he didn’t see
anything, he shouted at Peryang and repeatedly pointed his gun toward the door. As she didn’t
understand the Japanese, she didn’t move. The Japanese pushed her outside and she almost
stumbled into the rocky ground. She carried Nene, who was crying loudly.

When they reached the seashore, she was asked to stand under the heat of the sun. This is
the end, she thought. She hugged her daughter tight and cried with her. Dodong isn’t even
around! They’re going to die without her husband! A few minutes later, more Japanese soldiers
arrived together with some of her neighbors. Four adult men were put into a line, their hands
behind their heads. The women and the children joined her.

“Maru hente, maru hente! Donde maru hente?”snarled one of the Japanese at the men.
When no one answered, the Japanese clobbered one of the men using the butt of his rifle. The
man groaned and went down on his knees in pain. The others got hold of him to help him stand.

“What did he say, Inambis? What do they want?” whispered Peryang to the native
Subana beside her.

“Ta buska sila malo hente. Bad persons. Guerillas,” she answered in a mixture of
Chavacano and Bisaya.

The Japanese caught them whispering to each other and barked at them. Peryang’s body
jerked in fright. She bowed her head and made the sign of the cross. Even though she was with
her neighbors, her fear didn’t subside. She felt like she might faint at any moment. There was a
strong burning sensation in her abdomen. Her head was throbbing from the heat of the sun that
seemed to scorch her scalp. She couldn’t take the pressure of Nene’s weight on her arms so she
decided to put her down on the ground. The child wailed and clung to her mother’s leg. Using
the hem of her skirt, she wiped both tears and snot off the child’s face.

“Ssh. Ssh. Now, now, Nene,” she said, trying to hush her child but to no avail. She
carried the child again in her arms.

More Japanese soldiers arrived, this time with more than ten Chinese who lived across
the riverbank. Peryang saw one of them talking and giving signals to a Japanese whom Peryang
assumed to be the leader. The Japanese wrote something on the sand. The Chinese also wrote on
the sand. But Peryang never knew what happened next because she felt something rise from the
pit of her stomach to her head. And then she fainted.

How her daughter made friends with the Japanese was something she could never
understand. Her daughter was naturally shy and easily frightened. The neighbors couldn’t even
carry her in their arms without her crying. But what could have happened here---Nene, sitting
there in front of a Japanese? Nene, playing with a Japanese soldier? And laughing hard as well!
Laughter of utmost joy! What amused the child was the bird toy made from paper. Its wings
flapped each time the Japanese pulled its tail. Nene would laugh at each flap of the bird’s wings,
her mirth the only sound filling every space of their hut. She didn’t even mind the sight of the
Japanese rifle with a sharp bayonet beside the door!

Peryang didn’t know how this could have happened, how this friendship was brought
about. When she had regained consciousness yesterday, she just saw Nene sitting beside the
Japanese. It had seemed like a dream, but she remembered getting alarmed. Juez de cuchillo! She
wanted to grapple with the Japanese, grab Nene, and run away into the jungle, but she was too
weak at that point. Indeed, because of fatigue and dread, she passed out the second time. She
didn’t even have the chance to take her supper.
 And just this morning, the Japanese came by their hut where he was greeted by Nene.
They looked like old friends. The little girl even hugged the Japanese! Peryang simply could not
understand. Did the little girl miss her father? But why a Japanese when Dodong had a huge pair
of eyes, aside from having a very dark skin? She felt nervous on her part. She wasn’t at ease.
She couldn’t even look at the Japanese. If she won’t get killed by huez de cuchillo then she was
certainly going to die from nervousness!

She didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to cook rice porridge. While preparing
the table, she wondered if she should offer rice porridge to the Japanese as well. Would the
Japanese be happy or would he get angry? In the end, she decided that it was better to be scolded
for offering something than to be berated because she did not.

“Here’s some porridge, Señor,” said Peryang in a trembling voice. She didn’t know how
to address the Japanese, but then opted to call him “Señor,” the same way she addressed her
employer in Zamboanga. She bowed several times in front of the Japanese, then kept her head
down, afraid to look at him.

To her surprise, the Japanese accepted what she offered. The Japanese said something
and then pulled his wallet out and gave Peryang a Japanese bill. Peryang kept shaking her head.
“It’s for free, Señor, free,” she said.

But the Japanese insisted and Peryang accepted the twenty-peso Japanese wartime
money.

While she was feeding Nene who was holding her paper bird, Peryang would steal
glances at the Japanese. She forced herself not to laugh because the Japanese brought the bowl of
rice porridge to his mouth and scraped the contents with the spoon to eat. The Japanese looked
like a duck slurping down the porridge. Upon closer inspection, Peryang realized that the
Japanese was very young. This was the first thing that she noticed. They were probably the same
age. Sixteen or seventeen. And wait. The Japanese was actually handsome. He had a nice facial
contour. His face was white and smooth with arched thick eyebrows, and his jaw was shadowed
with a beginning beard.

“Nali,” said Nene.

Peryang didn’t understand what the child said, but the Japanese smiled, and his eyes were
covered by his eyelids. Peryang started to feel light towards the Japanese. To her, the Japanese
exuded warmth and amiability. She couldn’t find any trace of fierceness or cruelty in him. And
while Peryang was feeding Nene, she felt peace inside her. The tension she felt since yesterday
was gone. She trusted what she saw. She concluded that the Japanese whom her daughter had
befriended was a good man.

After eating, the Japanese patted the child’s head as if to say goodbye and went out with
his gun. Peryang breathed a sigh of relief. Even though the Japanese appeared kind, she was still
afraid of his presence. She washed the dishes and cleared the paper that scattered on the floor.
She felt it a waste that the magazine was torn to make the paper bird. Her employer in
Zamboanga had left it and she took the bother to bring it with her when they evacuated from the
place because she liked the pictures in it. The same magazine caused some of her quarrels with
her husband Dodong as he would tear the pages to roll shredded tobacco.

And where could that moron be, she thought. She was getting worried because it had
been three weeks since he left home on a small boat with his Chinese employer. And now the
Japanese were occupying Malayal. What could their intention be when there were no guerrillas
in Malayal! There were no guerrillas even in the mountains. She didn’t know what was going on
in their barrio. She didn’t want to get out of her house. Not even go to Pawa’s store. God forbid
she might meet a Japanese! If only it were possible to melt and disappear into thin air! How
tiring to have your heart always pounding in fear! She wanted to curl in a corner of her hut until
the Japanese had left.

Nene came to her, crying. The paper bird had unfolded from too much pulling. Peryang
studied the folds and tried to follow them to recreate the bird. But no matter how she tried to fold
the paper this way and that, she could not form the original shape of the bird. She handed Nene
her doll instead but the child brushed it aside. Her face contorted and she started to cry out loud.
She didn’t stop crying until she grew tired and finally went to sleep.

The sun was already up when the child woke up. Not long after, the Japanese returned to
the hut. Nene walked unsteadily toward the Japanese and gave him the shapeless paper bird.
Although embarrassed and frightened, Peryang nonetheless went near the Japanese to observe
how the bird was made. The Japanese understood Peryang’s interest and he pointed at the
magazines stacked beside the wall. Peryang gave him a magazine and the Japanese slowly tore a
page. He folded it in half and tore the excess part so that all sides were of equal size. He gave
this to Peryang, and motioned for her to sit beside him. And the Japanese started to fold the
shapeless paper bird.

He slowly folded the paper so that Peryang could follow him.

“Tsu-ru,” said the Japanese. “Tsuru,” he repeated.

Peryang smiled without looking up, her eyes fixed on the hands of the Japanese. For
every fold done by the Japanese, she would follow. If she couldn’t tag along, the Japanese would
repeat the process. Peryang got amused when she could already make out the two ends of the
paper and the outline of the wings of the bird. One end was folded downwards for the head and
the beak, while the other end was folded upwards for the tail. The last thing that the Japanese did
was to bend the wings.

“Tsuru,” said the Japanese. He then pointed at the paper bird. “Tsuru.”

“Tsu-lu,” the child replied.

The Japanese got hold of the lower portion of the bird’s body and pulled the bird’s tail.
The wings flapped several times. And the child broke into fits of laughter!
 Peryang also pulled the bird’s tail and the wings flapped too. She was amused with what
she had done. She looked up and glanced at the Japanese. Their eyes met. She suddenly looked
away and then bowed her head.

“Mi-ki-na-ri,” the Japanese said while pointing at his nose. “Mi-ki-na-ri,” he repeated.

“Na-li,” the child answered. “Na-li,” she repeated, and then giggled.

“Mikinari,” Peryang said.

The Japanese nodded several times. “Mikinari, Mikinari,” he said, pointing at the tip of
his nose.

Peryang pointed at her chest, “Per-yang.”

“Per-yang,” the Japanese replied. He smiled and his eyes disappeared behind his eyelids.

Mikinari took his wallet and pulled out a photograph. He showed it to Peryang. In the
photograph, Mikinari could be seen with a young woman who was carrying an infant. His wife
and baby?

Mikinari touched the face of the woman and the child with his finger.

“Hi-ro-ko,” he said, pointing at the young woman, and “Ha-ji-me,” pointing at the infant.

Peryang looked at the Japanese and saw the sadness on his face. She understood what the
Japanese felt. He missed his family. And suddenly, Peryang felt pity for the Japanese. If she
already missed her husband Dodong who had only been away for a few weeks in neighboring
towns, how much more if they would be separated from each other for months or years? The
situation of the Japanese was far worse. She wanted to tell him that she understood how he felt,
but how to say it? She felt something tight coiling around her heart. She looked away because
she was about to cry. She couldn’t understand what she felt. She got hold of Nene and hugged
her tight. The girl thrashed around her arms, and when she got free, she immediately ran toward
the Japanese.

“Nali, Nali,” said the child, wanting Mikinari to carry her.

Mikinari’s face lit up and carried the child in his arms. He let Nene straddle his shoulders
as they went to the backyard, making-believe as if they were flying. The child’s laughter
reverberated. Peryang wiped her teary eyes with the sleeve of her dress. She tore a page from the
magazine and began folding. She was happy because she managed to create a paper bird on her
own.

The next morning, Peryang went early to the farm together with Nene. They harvested
bitter gourds and eggplants and picked sweet potato tops as well. As she was about to cook,
Mikinari arrived, panting. He had with him his knapsack and gun. He said something to her.
Peryang only nodded. He also said something to Nene as he patted her head. Then the Japanese
turned away and hurried out towards the barrio center.

“Nali! Nali!” the child called him back.

The Japanese turned. Nene held out her small arm to the Japanese, handing him the
paper bird, as if she wanted to give the paper toy to her friend. The Japanese smiled, and his eyes
disappeared. He bowed to the child, waved his hand, and swiftly ran away. Not long after,
Peryang saw the Japanese troops heading towards her hut. She went inside the hut with Nene and
cowered without making any sound. She almost couldn’t breathe. When Peryang sensed that the
Japanese were already far, she peeked out the window. Where the shoreline curved the Japanese
troops disappeared from her sight.

Not a month after the Japanese had swarmed and left Malayal, news about the Americans
landing in Leyte spread around. The Americans were said to be swift in their attacks and the
Japanese were now in retreat. This news delighted Peryang. The war was finally over. She could
now go back to Zamboanga! But her happiness was slightly tainted with worry because she
heard the Japanese carried out the ruthless juez de cuchillo in some places where they had
retreated. They were said to have become more brutal. Good thing their forces had been
pulverized, but the rumors said that there were Japanese stragglers hiding in the forest.

And so, the men of Malayal formed a force that was armed with bolos, bows and arrows,
bamboo spears, and whatever could serve as a weapon. Each house had a kuratong that could
raise the alarm in case they spotted a Japanese. Groups of men alternated every night to patrol
around the barrio. They wouldn’t be oppressed anymore by those bowlegged brutes! They would
have their revenge! What horrible things the Japanese did in Malayal. The menfolk were rounded
up and were corralled. Only those who were made to work were allowed to go out. If you
happened to look at a Japanese you got slapped. If you forgot to bow you got beaten up. There
were some who were forced to act as guides in the forest. It turned out they were looking for
American escapees. It was said a Japanese boat loaded with American prisoners sank off
Sindangan. It was supposedly torpedoed by an American submarine. Many American prisoners
swam to shore and that was why the Japanese were looking for them. To think Sindangan was
too far away!

But what fueled their anger more was when they found the dead body of the young
teenage boy of Inambis in the forest. That explained why the boy hadn’t returned home. What
happened was that when the Japanese conducted a census, the boy wasn’t around because he had
gone hunting. A Japanese patrol found him and suspected him to be a guerrilla. They cut off his
head! How utterly cruel! Peryang was lucky that Dodong didn’t come home while the Japanese
lorded it over Malayal. She found out that they were guarding her house because they thought
her husband was a guerrilla. What a dangerous situation she was in! She was fortunate that the
Japanese who was assigned to guard her was kind. But to the people of Malayal, all Japanese
were evil and ought to be exterminated.

“Beware to all bowlegged brutes who stray into our place. They will taste our wrath,” the
menfolk threatened.
 Dodong also hated the Japanese as he experienced being slapped in Negros during his last
trip with his Chinese employer. He didn’t even know what he did wrong. The Japanese just
slapped him at the checkpoint. So Dodong also joined the roving team until his employer called
him to purchase goods again. Peryang wanted stop him because the conditions were still
unstable, but Dodong told her not to worry as they had all kinds of passes. They had passes for
the Japanese, and passes for the guerillas. His employer knew how to deal with them.

“I will work hard, Peryang, so that we’ll have a future,” said Dodong. “After the war, we
might be able to raise enough money for our own business.”

The truth is, these were what she admired in Dodong---his diligence and his ambition. He
was a salesboy in a Chinese store when he proposed to her. Dodong had many promises to her,
many dreams. And Peryang, who grew up weary of weeding a barren land and working as a
housemaid in Zamboanga was drawn to Dodong’s brilliant dreams.

But the war thwarted all their dreams. They found themselves in Malayal where nothing
stirred. The Japanese might have given them a fright but now boredom had set in again.

“Nali, Nali,” Nene said, tugging at Peryang’s skirt while she was busy hanging clothes.

“Don’t bother me now, Nene, I’m hanging clothes.” Peryang pushed Nene’s hand away.
But the child was insistent. “Nali, Nali,” she said again, and took her mother’s hand to lead her.
Peryang couldn’t understand what the child wanted, but she followed her.

The child led her to the vegetable farm, and when Nene swept aside the thick screen of
bitter gourd leaves that covered a huge log, what she saw made her jump out of her skin! It was a
Japanese soldier who was crouching, his bayonet pointed at her!

“Japanese! Japanese!” Peryang shouted, her voice straining as she ran. But they were too
far from the neighborhood. No one could hear her. She was going to use the kuratong! And then
she remembered Nene, and when she turned around, she was horrified to see Nene going into the
thick screen of bitter gourd leaves. She ran back to her.

“Nene! Nene! Get out of there!” Peryang shouted in utter horror.

I will fight this Japanese, she thought. I will kill this Japanese! She took a piece of wood
that she could use to hit the Japanese with. When she brushed away the leaves, she saw her
daughter hugging the Japanese soldier tightly.

The rain fell in torrents. From time to time, bolts of lightning pierced the sky, followed
by the roaring sounds of thunder. Huge waves thrashed violently on the shore. Peryang was
happy that the weather was acting up. There would be no patrol in the barrio. She could rest well.
It had been a week since she had had enough sleep. What if the roving guards dropped by to have
coffee? What if they stayed the whole night even if Dodong was not around. God forbid they’d
find Mikinari!
 During the day, she had to be doubly alert in case some neighbor would suddenly drop
by. Fortunately, no one had done so. Even Inambis hadn’t visited her. She, too, hadn’t been to
her friend’s house for some time. She didn’t want to be there because she would only feel sorry
to see Inambis still grieving over the death of her son. She would only become angry…

And why would Mikinari have to come back to Malayal? Zamboanga was one huge
forest, why did he have to hide in Malayal? She had wanted to drive him away because it was too
dangerous. But he was sick. And very weak. Her mind churned in confusion. She didn’t want
any trouble so she left him alone in the vegetable farm. But as the rain poured heavily that night,
her conscience troubled her. She contemplated her course of action hard and long. She was
afraid to rouse the anger of the entire barrio, but she also took pity on Mikinari. She could picture
him soaking wet under the huge log and shivering from the cold. The Japanese only had two
options. Either he died of an illness, or he died in the hands of the barrio men. No! Her soul
shouted. She prayed. Her tears continued to fall. Mikinari was good man. He didn’t do anything
wrong against her. He didn’t do anything against the barrio folks. That was clear. And that was
why she finally decided to help Mikinari.

Damn! The health of the Japanese had to worsen. He was delirious for two days due to
high fever. She had him lie down behind a long bench covered with sacks, baskets, and carton
boxes, but he groaned all the time. Twice he had woken up and shouted from bad dreams. What
if the people heard him? She was at a loss what to do with him. If Nene weren’t around, she
wouldn’t know what to do. Nene was always around the Japanese, just there playing with her
paper bird. If Mikinari became restless, she would only gently tap his shoulder. The Japanese
would calm down. She would sing him songs, and talk to him. It was as if it was the most natural
thing to do.

On her part, she was tormented with worry and fear—worry about the condition of
Mikinari, and fear of getting caught! Her mind seemed to float. She took fright easily. A small
rustle would startle her. She was anxious all the time and gasping for breath.

It was a good thing that Mikinari’s fever went down on the third day. His body had
become thin, but Peryang could see that he was determined to live. He ate whatever Peryang
cooked. Nothing would be left from the rice porridge with shredded chicken. He heartily sipped
the kamunggay soup. And slowly Mikinari regained his strength. This made Peryang extremely
happy. Only one problem was left: no one should find out about Mikinari.

So while the stormy weather raged outside, Peryang slept peacefully.

In the next few days, Mikinari’s health continued to improve. He did exercises all the
time—stretching his arms and legs, bending his body forward and backward. Peryang breathed
with relief watching this development. She wanted Mikinari to leave. He shouldn’t be staying in
Malayal for too long. It was very dangerous. She knew the Japanese understood this and was
ashamed. In the past, it was she who couldn’t look straight at the Japanese, but now it was the
Japanese who could not look at her. There were times when she saw him staring at the rumpled
photograph of his family, and this touched Peryang. He would sit in a kneeling position, almost
without moving, his eyes looking blankly into space. His face was the mirror of utmost sadness
that would only be broken if Nene played with him. Peryang couldn’t fathom why the child was
fond of him. She always laughed in that contagious laugh of hers, and the Japanese would smile,
his eyes disappearing behind his eyelids.

One night, just as Peryang had lit the lamp made from coconut shell, Mikinari
approached her and knelt in front of her, sitting on his heels. He bowed his head and didn’t look
at her. He was saying something, as if reasoning things out. Peryang couldn’t understand
anything, except for the word arigato which he said repeatedly. There was a tone of sadness in
his voice. There was also a tone of anger. And to her big surprise, she saw tears falling while
Mikirnari was talking. His voice broke. Upon seeing him cry, the child gave a paper bird to the
Japanese. The Japanese was surprised and lifted his head up. He looked at the child and his face
broke into a smile, his eyes disappearing behind the eyelids. He wiped his tears, accepted the
paper bird, and tightly hugged her. And then he stood up, took his bayonet behind the bench, and
went toward the door.

It was only then that Peryang understood that the Japanese was leaving. She made him stay
for a while. She hurried to the kitchen, packed some corn and bitter gourds and gave them to
Mikinari. “Arigato, arigato,” the Japanese said. He bowed several times.

“Sayonara!” This was the last word from the Japanese before the darkness took him in.

Once in a while, American airplanes passed by the Malayal skies and the people would
cheer. The American forces continued to advance into the other parts of Mindanao, it was said.
The war would be over soon. Peace was coming. And Peryang would only have to wait for the
time when she and Dodong could go back to Zamboanga. And that would depend on the decision
of the Chinese employer of Dodong. She wondered why they still didn’t return to Zamboanga
when it had already been occupied by the Americans. It had been three months since the
Japanese had been dispersed down there. The Japanese soldiers who surrendered to the
Americans were lucky to be made prisoners, but if they fell into the hands of the guerrillas they
were put to death. This was the guerrillas’ revenge, who carried out their own juez de cuchillo
against the Japanese.

Sometimes, Peryang remembered Mikinari. Was he still alive? What was he eating?
Where did he sleep? Where did he find shelter when it rained? It would have been good if
Mikinari reached the heart of the mountains in Zamboanga where he might meet Subanons who
had nothing against the Japanese and who would adopt him. But it would be so much better if he
surrendered to the Americans. He would have the chance to go back to his country and be with
his family. If she thought about these things, Peryang would suddenly feel pity for the Japanese.
She could picture Mikinari laughing, his eyes disappearing behind the eyelids. Without noticing
it, her tears would fall. She couldn’t stop herself. Her heart would tighten up. And she would
force herself to cut the string of his memory. She would just pray for his salvation.

Peryang didn’t tell Dodong about Mikinari. It was a secret she shared with Nene. It would
be easy to make Dodong understand, but she didn’t want to explain a long story. Apart from his
occasional sea travels, he took interest in farming. Sometimes, he would join the patrol. And for
Peryang, boredom had landed in Malayal. She got tired of waiting for their return to Zamboanga.
If she didn’t have anything to do at home, she would go to the poblacion to know about the latest
news of the war. She learned that the guerrillas had multiplied, sprouting like mushrooms just
when the war was almost over.

One morning, the neighborhood became excited with the news that a Japanese was
captured and killed by the barrio patrol. Carrying Nene in her arms, Peryang went to Pawa’s
store to hear the details. There, she saw Dodong, who was with the patrol and had not been home
since last night.

“The Japanese was very young,” said Kanor, the leader of the barrio patrol. “His pockets
were full of corn, eggplants, and bitter gourds. He must have stolen from the vegetable farm. So
there! We beat him up. And then we let him choose. Korto kabesa or pong pong? He understood.
‘Pong pong,’ he said. What pong pong. We cut off his head,” And then Kanor laughed. And the
people around laughed with him.

“Dah, served him right!” Peryang heard from someone beside her. But she wasn’t happy.
She was frightened by what she was hearing. She approached Dodong.

“Never thought a man could still run without his head, sa? Kanor said. And then he
brandished a long knife. “The Japanese’s bayonet, he said. “We got his wallet, too. Uy, Dodong,
where is it?”

Dodong took out the wallet from his pocket. Peryang’s heart beat wildly. She seemed to
recognize the wallet. Dodong took out the contents of the wallet. There were Japanese bills. And
an old, rumpled photograph!

Peryang felt like a knife pierced her chest and her heart wrenched from her body. She
felt a wave of nausea coming over her. She suddenly screamed and ran away.

“No! No!” she cried from the depths of her being while running away from the throng of
people. She was blinded by the tears in her eyes. She ran away, holding Nene who was thrashing
and crying because she had dropped the paper bird that she was holding. Peryang chased the
paper bird but it flew quickly over the sands before the huge, curling waves swallowed it.
-oOo-

Translated from Bisaya into English by Khareen Cujalara and Ricardo M. de Ungria.

Notes:

- Donde maru hente. Spanish donde malo gente, where bad people.
- Buska. Spanish buscar, to search.
- Korto kabesa. Spanish corto (I cut) from cortar (to cut) and cabesa (head).
- Kamunggay is the Bisaya for Moringa oleifera.