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keep off sores.


How the Moon Tricks the Buso [119]

The Moon is a great liar. One night long ago, the Buso looked over
the earth and could not discover any people, because everybody was
asleep. Then Buso went to the Moon, and asked her where all the people
were to be found.

"Oh, you will not find a living person on the earth!" replied the
Moon. "Everybody in the world is dead."

"Good!" thought Buso. "To-morrow I shall have a fine meal of them."

Buso never eats living flesh, only dead bodies.

Next morning, Buso started for the graveyard; but on the way he met
the Sun, and stopped to speak to him.

"How about the men on earth?" he questioned.

"They're all right," said the Sun. "All the people are working and
playing and cooking rice."

The Buso was furious to find himself tricked. That night he went
again to the Moon and asked for the men, and, as before, the Moon
assured him that everybody was dead. But the next morning the Sun
showed him all the people going about their work as usual. Thus the
Buso has been fooled over and over again. The Moon tells him every
night the same story.


The Buso and the Cat

The cat is the best animal. She keeps us from the Buso. One night the
Buso came into the house, and said to the cat, "I should like to eat
your mistress."

"I will let you do it," replied the cat; "but first you must count
all the hairs of my coat."

So the Buso began to count. But while he was counting, the cat kept
wriggling her tail, and sticking up her back. That made her fur stand
up on end, so that the Buso kept losing count, and never knew where
he left off. And while the Buso was still trying to count the cat's
hairs, daylight came.

This is one reason why we must not kill the cat. If a Bagobo should
kill a cat, it would make him very sick. He would get skinny, and
die. Some Bagobo have been known to kill the cat; but they always
got sick afterwards.


How a Dog Scared the Buso

The Tigbanua' are the worst of all the Buso; they want to be
eating human flesh all the time. They live in great forests, - in
the pananag-tree, in the magbo-tree, in the baliti-tree, and in
the liwaan-tree.

One day a man went out to hunt, and he took his dog with him. On
his way to the woods, he speared a very little pig. By the time he
reached the great forest, night had come. He made a little shelter,
and kindled a fire. Then he cleaned the pig and cut it into pieces,
and tied three sticks of wood together, and placed them on two upright
pieces of wood stuck in the ground. On this paga he laid the pig-meat
to broil over the flames.

By and by he got very sleepy, and thought he would go under the shelter
and take a nap. But just then he heard voices up in the big trees. He
listened, and heard the Tigbanua' talking to one another.

The Tigbanua' that lives in the liwaan-tree called out to the Tigbanua'
that lives in the pananag-tree, "The mighty chief of all the Tigbanua',
who lives in the sigmit-tree, gives this command to his people: 'Don't
make fun of the man, because he has been here many times before.' "

And right there, under the trees, the man, standing by his dog, was
listening to the talk of the Buso. The dog was sleeping near the fire,
and he was as big as the calf of a carabao. Very quietly his master
spread his own sleeping-tunic (kisi) over the dog, and crept away,
leaving him asleep in the warm place. The man hid in the shelter,
and waited.

Presently many of the Tigbanua' began coming down from the trees,
for some of them did not give obedience (paminug) to their Datu. They
gathered around the fire, and sat down. By and by, as they sat near
the fire, the penis (tapo) of every one of the Tigbanua' began to
grow bigger and bigger (lanag-lanag). All at once, the Tigbanua'
caught sight of the tunic spread out, and showing the form of a huge
head and body under it. They all thought it was the man; and they
rushed up to it, and hugged it. But the dog woke up, jumped out from
under the tunic, and bit the Tigbanua'. Then they all ran. One of them
climbed up the tree to his own house, the dog holding on to his leg,
and biting him all the time. But when they were halfway up the tree,
the dog fell down and got hurt. And the Tigbanua' called down to the
dog, "Swell up, swell up!" ("Pigsa, pigsa!")

All the other Tigbanua' were afraid of the big dog, and ran away. So
the man slept well all night, because the Buso could not hurt him now.


Story of Duling and the Tagamaling

Before the world was made, there were Tagamaling. The Tagamaling
is the best Buso, because he does not want to hurt man all of the
time. Tagamaling is actually Buso only a part of the time; that is,
the month when he eats people. One month he eats human flesh, and
then he is Buso; the next month he eats no human flesh, and then he
is a god. So he alternates, month by month. The month he is Buso,
he wants to eat man during the dark of the moon; that is, between
the phases that the moon is full in the east and new in the west.

The other class of Buso, however, wants human flesh all of the
time. They are the Tigbanua', the chief of whom is Datu of all the
Buso. A Tigbanua' lives in his own house, and goes out only to eat
the bodies of the dead.

The Tagamaling makes his house in trees that have hard wood, and low,
broad-spreading branches. His house is almost like gold, and is called
"Palimbing," but it is made so that you cannot see it; and, when
you pass by, you think, "Oh! what a fine tree with big branches,"
not dreaming that it is the house of a Tagamaling. Sometimes, when
you walk in the forest, you think you see one of their houses; but
when you come near to the place, there is nothing. Yet you can smell
the good things to eat in the house.

Once a young man named Duling, and his younger brother, went out
into the woods to trap wild chickens. Duling had on his back a basket
holding a decoy cock, together with the snares of running-nooses and
all the parts of the trap. While they were looking for a good spot to
drive in the stakes for the snare, they heard the voice of Tagamaling
in the trees, saying, "Duling, Duling, come in! My mother is making
a little fiesta here."

The boys looked up, and could see the house gleaming there in the
branches, and there were two Tagamaling-women calling to them. In
response to the call, Duling's younger brother went up quickly
into the house; but Duling waited on the ground below. He wanted the
Tagamaling-girls to come down to him, for he was enamoured (kalatugan)
of them. Then one girl ran down to urge Duling to come up into the
tree. And as soon as she came close to him, he caught her to his
breast, and hugged her and caressed her.

In a moment, Duling realized that the girl was gone, and that he was
holding in his arms a nanga-bush, full of thorns. He had thought to
catch the girl, but, instead, sharp thorns had pricked him full of
sores. Then from above he heard the woman's voice, tauntingly sweet,
"Don't feel bad, Duling; for right here is your younger brother."

Yet the young man, gazing here and there, saw around him only tall
trees, and could not catch a glimpse of the girl who mocked him.

Immediately, Duling, as he stood there, was turned into a rock. But
the little brother married the Tagamaling-girl.

There is a place high up in the mountains of Mindanao, about eight
hours' ride west of Santa Cruz, where you may see the rock, and you
will know at once that it is a human figure. There is Duling, with
the trap and the decoy cock on his shoulder. You may see the cock's
feathers too.


The S'iring

The S'iring [120] is the ugly man that has long nails and curly
hair. He lives in the forest trees. If a boy goes into the forest
without a companion, the S'iring tries to carry him off. When you meet
a S'iring, he will look like your father, or mother, or some friend;
and he will hide his long nails behind his back, so that you cannot
see them. It is the S'iring who makes the echo (a'u'd). When you
talk in a loud voice, the S'iring will answer you in a faint voice,
because he wants to get you and carry you away.

There was once a boy who went without a companion into the forest,
and he met a man who looked just like his own father, but it was a
S'iring; and the S'iring made him believe that he was his father. The
S'iring said to the boy, "Come, you must go with me. We will shoot
some wild birds with our bow and arrows."

And the boy, not doubting that he heard his father's voice, followed
the S'iring into the deep forest. After a while, the boy lost his
memory, and forgot the way to his own house. The S'iring took him up
on a high mountain, and gave him food; but the poor boy had now lost
his mind, and he thought the food was a milleped one fathom long,
or it seemed to him the long, slim worm called liwati.

So the days went on, the boy eating little, and growing thinner
and weaker all the time. When he met any men in the forest, he grew
frightened, and would run away. When he had been a long time in the
forest, the S'iring called to him and said, "We will move on now."

So they started off again. When they reached the high bank of a deep
and swift-flowing river, the S'iring scratched the boy with his long
nails. Straightway the boy felt so tired that he could no longer stand
on his legs, and then he dropped down into the ravine. He fell on the
hard rocks, so that his bones were broken, and his skull split open.

All this time, the mother at home was mourning for her son, and crying
all day long. But soon she arranged a little shrine (tambara [121])
under the great tree, and, having placed there a white bowl with a
few betel-nuts and some buyo-leaf as an offering for her son, she
crouched on the ground and prayed for his life to the god in the sky.

Now, when the S'iring heard her prayer, he took some betel-nuts, and
went to the place where the boy's body lay. On the parts where the
bones were broken, he spit betel-nut, and did the same to the boy's
head. Immediately the boy came to life, and felt well again. Then the
S'iring took him up, and carried him to the shrine where the mother
was praying; but she could not see the S'iring nor her boy. She went
home crying.

That night, as the woman slept, she dreamed that a boy came close to
her, and spoke about her son. "To-morrow morning," he said, "you must
pick red peppers, and get a lemon, [122] and carry them to the shrine,
and burn them in the fire."

Next morning, the woman hastened to gather the peppers, and get
a lemon, and with happy face she ran to the shrine under the big
tree. There she made a fire, and burned the lemon and the red peppers,
as the dream had told her. And, as soon as she had done this, her
son appeared from under the great tree. Then his mother caught him
in her arms, and held him close, and cried for joy.

When you lose your things, you may be sure that the S'iring has hidden
them. What you have to do is to burn some red peppers with beeswax
(tadu ka petiukan [123]), and observe carefully the direction in which
the smoke goes. The way the smoke goes points out where your things
are hidden, because the S'iring is afraid of the wax of bees. He is
afraid, too, of red peppers and of lemons.


How Iro Met the S'iring

Not long ago, a young man named Iro went out, about two o'clock in the
afternoon, to get some tobacco from one of the neighbors. Not far from
his house, he saw his friend Atun coming along; and Atun said to him,
"I've got some tobacco hidden away in a place in the woods. Let us
go and get it."

So they went along together. When they reached the forest, Atun
disappeared, and Iro could not see which way he had gone. Then he
concluded that it was not Atun, but a S'iring, whom he had met. He
started for home, and reached there about eight o'clock in the
evening. To his astonishment, he saw Atun sitting there in the
house. Confused and wondering, he asked Atun, "Did you carry me away?"

But his friend Atun laughed, and said, "Where should I carry you? I
have not been anywhere."

Then Iro was convinced that a S'iring had tried to lure him into
the forest.

When you have a companion, the S'iring cannot hurt you.


CHAPTER IV

Animal Stories: Metamorphosis, Explanatory Tales, Etc.


The Kingfisher and the Malaki

There came a day when the kingfisher (kobug [124]) had nothing to
drink, and was thirsty for water. Then she walked along the bed of
the brook, searching for a drink; but the waters of the brook were
all dried up.

Now, on that very day, the Maganud went up the mountain to get some
agsam [125] to make leglets for himself. And when he came near to where
the bulla grows, he stopped to urinate, and the urine sprinkled one of
the great bulla-leaves. Then he went on up the mountain. Just then, the
kingfisher came along, still looking for a mountain-stream. Quickly she
caught sight of the leaf of the bulla-tree all sprinkled with water;
but the man had gone away. Then the kingfisher gladly drank a few
drops of the water, and washed her feathers. But no sooner had she
quenched her thirst, and taken a bath, than her head began to pain
her. Then she went home to her little house in the ground.

Now, every day the kingfisher laid one egg, and that day she laid
her egg as usual. But when the egg hatched out, it was no feathered
nestling, but a baby-boy, that broke the shell.

"Oh!" cried the frightened bird. "What will become of me?" Then she
ran off a little way from her nest, and started to fly away.

But the little boy cried out, "Mother, mother, don't be afraid of me!"

So the kingfisher came back to her baby. And the child grew bigger
every day.

After a while, the boy was old enough to walk and play around. Then
one day he went alone to the house of the Maganud, and climbed up
the steps and looked in at the door. The Maganud was sitting there on
the floor of his house; and the little boy ran up to him and hugged
him, and cried for joy. But the Maganud was startled and dismayed;
for he was a chaste malaki, [126] and had no children. Yet this boy
called him "father," and begged for ripe bananas in a very familiar
manner. After they had talked for a little while, the Maganud went
with the child to the home of the kingfisher.

The kingfisher had made her nest at the foot of a great hollow
tree. She had dug out a hole, about four feet deep, in the soft ground,
and fixed a roof by heaping over the hole the powdered rotten bark of
the old tree. The roof stood up just a few inches above the ground;
and when the Maganud saw it, he thought it was a mere little heap of
earth. Immediately, however, as he looked at the lowly nest, it became
a fine house with walls of gold, and pillars of ivory. The eaves were
all hung with little bells (korung-korung [127]); and the whole house
was radiantly bright, for over it forked lighting played continually.

The kingfisher took off her feather coat, and became a lovely woman,
and then she and the Malaki were married. They had bananas and
cocoanut-groves, and all things, and they became rich people.


The Woman and the Squirrel

One day a woman went out to find water. She had no water to drink,
because all the streams were dried up. As she went along, she saw
some water in a leaf. She drank it, and washed her body. As soon as
she had drunk the water, her head began to hurt. Then she went home,
spread out a mat, lay down on it, and went to sleep. She slept for
nine days. When she woke up, she took a comb and combed her hair. As
she combed it, a squirrel-baby came out from her hair. After the baby
had been in the house one week, it began to grow and jump about. It
staid up under the roof of the house.

One day the Squirrel said to his mother, "O mother! I want you to
go to the house of the Datu who is called 'sultan,' and take these
nine kamagi [128] and these nine finger-rings to pay for the sultan's
daughter, because I want to marry her."

Then the mother went to the sultan's house and remained there an
hour. The sultan said, "What do you want?"

The woman answered, "Nothing. I came for betel-nuts." Then the woman
went back home.

The Squirrel met her, and said, "Where are my nine necklaces?"

"Here they are," said the woman.

But the Squirrel was angry at his mother, and bit her with his
little teeth.

Again he said to his mother, "You go there and take the nine
necklaces."

So the woman started off again. When she reached the sultan's house,
she said to him, "I have come with these nine necklaces and these
nine finger-rings that my son sends to you."

"Yes," said the sultan; "but I want my house to become gold, and I want
all my plants to become gold, and everything I have to turn into gold."

But the woman left the presents to pay for the sultan's daughter. The
sultan told her that he wanted his house to be turned into gold that
very night. Then the woman went back and told all this to her son. The
Squirrel said, "That is good, my mother."

Now, when night came, the Squirrel went to the sultan's house, and
stood in the middle of the path, and called to his brother, the Mouse,
"My brother, come out! I want to see you."

Then the great Mouse came out. All the hairs of his coat were of gold,
and his eyes were of glass.

The Mouse said, "What do you want of me, my brother Squirrel?"

"I called you," answered the Squirrel, "for your gold coat. I want
some of that to turn the sultan's house into gold."

Then the Squirrel bit the skin of the Mouse, and took off some of the
gold, and left him. Then he began to turn the sultan's things into
gold. First of all, he rubbed the gold on the betel-nut trees of the
sultan; next, he rubbed all the other trees and all the plants; third,
he rubbed the house and all the things in it. Then the sultan's town
you could see as in a bright day. You would think there was no night
there - always day.

All this time, the sultan was asleep. When he woke up, he was so
frightened to see all his things, and his house, of gold, that he
died in about two hours.

Then the Squirrel and the daughter of the sultan were married. The
Squirrel staid in her father's home for one month, and then they went
to live in the house of the Squirrel's mother. And they took from
the sultan's place, a deer, a fish, and all kinds of food. After the
sultan's daughter had lived with the Squirrel for one year, he took
off his coat and became a Malaki T'oluk Waig. [129]



The Cat

Very long ago the cocoanut used to be the head of the cat. That is why
the cat loves cocoanut so much. When the Bagobo are eating cocoanut,
they let the cat jump up and have some too, because her head once
turned into a cocoanut. When the cat hears the Bagobo scraping cocoanut
in the kitchen, she runs quickly to get some to eat.

We cut off some of the fur from the tip of the cat's tail, and put the
hairs under one of the big stones (sigung) where the fire burns. This
is why the cat loves the house where she lives.

When the cat dies, her gimokud takawanan [130] goes down to Gimokudan,
where the spirits of dead people go.


Why the Bagobo Likes the Cat

An old man was fishing in the brook; but the water kept getting muddy,
and he did not know what was the matter. Then he went away, and he
walked and walked. After he had gone some distance, he saw in the mud
a big lion [131] that eats people. The Lion had been sleeping in the
mud. He said to the man, "If you'll pull me out of the mud and ride
me to my town, I will give you many things." Then the man drew the
Lion from the mud.

The Lion stood still a while, and then said, "Now you must ride on me."

So the man mounted the Lion, and rode until they came to a large
meadow, when the Lion said, "Now I am going to eat you."

The man replied, "But first let us go and ask the Carabao."

The Lion consented, and they went on until they reached the Carabao.

"This Lion wants to eat me," complained the man.

"Yes, indeed! eat him, Lion," answered the Carabao, "for the men are
all the time riding on my back, and whipping me."

There were many Carabaos in the field, and they all agreed to this.

Then the man said to the Lion, "You may eat me; but we will first go
and tell the Cows."

Soon they reached the Cows' home, and the man told them that the Lion
wanted to eat him.

At once the Cows exclaimed, "Yes, eat him, Lion, because all day long
the people drive us away from their fields."

"All right!" assented the man; "but first let us speak to the Dogs."

When they came to the Dogs' home, the man cried, "The Lion is going
to eat me."

The Dogs said to the Lion, "Devour this man; for every day, when men
are eating, they beat us away from the food."

At last the man said, "Sure enough, you will eat me up, Lion; but
let us just go to the Cat."

When they reached the Cat's home, they found her sitting at the door,
keeping her nice house. It had groves of cocoanut-palms around it. The
Cat lived all alone.

The man said to her, "This Lion wants to eat me."

"Yes, Lion," the Cat replied; "but first you make a deep hole in the
ground. We will race each other into the hole. If you jump in first,
then I shall lose and you will win."

And the Lion ran, and jumped into the hole. Then the Cat covered
him with earth and stones until he was dead. But before he died,
the Lion called to the Cat, "Whenever I see your excrement (tai),
I shall eat it." That is why the Cat hides her excrement, because
she is afraid the Lion will come.

Now, the Lion is the dog of the Buso.


How the Lizards got their Markings

One day the Chameleon (palas [132]) and the Monitor-lizard (ibid
[133]) were out in a deep forest together. They thought they would
try scratching each other's backs to make pretty figures on them.

First the Chameleon said to the Monitor-lizard, "You must scratch a
nice pattern on my back."

So the Monitor went to work, and the Chameleon had a fine
scratching. Monitor made a nice, even pattern on his back.

Then Monitor asked Chameleon for a scratching. But no sooner had
Chameleon begun to work on Monitor's back than there came the sound of
a dog barking. A man was hunting in the forest with his dog. The sharp
barks came nearer and nearer to the two lizards; and the Chameleon
got such a scare, that his fingers shook, and the pretty design
he was making went all askew. Then he stopped short and ran away,
leaving the Monitor with a very shabby marking on his back.

This is the reason that the monitor-lizard is not so pretty as the
chameleon.



The Monkey and the Tortoise [134]

One day, when a Tortoise was crawling slowly along by a stream, he
saw a baby-monkey drinking water. Presently the Monkey ran up to the
Tortoise, and said, "Let's go and find something to eat."

Not far from the stream there was a large field full of
banana-trees. They looked up, and saw clusters of ripe fruit.

"That's fine!" said the Monkey, "for I'm hungry and you're hungry
too. You climb first, Tortoise."

Then the Tortoise crawled slowly up the trunk; but he had got up only
a little distance when the Monkey chattered these words, "Roro s'punno,
roro s'punno!" [135] ("Slide down, slide down, Tortoise!")

At once the Tortoise slipped and fell down. Then he started again
to climb the tree; and again the Monkey said, "Roro s'punno!" and
again the Tortoise slipped and fell down. He tried over and over
again; but every time he failed, for the Monkey always said, "Roro
s'punno!" and made him fall. At last he got tired and gave it up,
saying to the Monkey, "Now you try it."

"It's too bad!" said the Monkey, "when we're both so hungry." Then
the Monkey made just three jumps, and reached the ripe fruit. "Wait
till I taste and see if they're sweet," he cried to the Tortoise,
while he began to eat bananas as fast as he could.

"Give me some," begged the Tortoise.

"All right!" shouted the Monkey; "but I forgot to notice whether it
was sweet." And he kept on eating, until more than half of the fruit
was gone.

"Drop down just one to me!" pleaded the Tortoise.

"Yes, in a minute," mumbled the Monkey.

At last, when but three bananas were left on the tree, the Monkey
called, "Look up! shut your eyes" (Langag-ka! pudung-nu yan matanu
[136]).

The Tortoise did so. The Monkey then told him to open his mouth,
and he obeyed. Then the Monkey said, "I'll peel this one piece of
banana for you" (Luitan-ko 'ni sebad abok saging [137]).

Now, the Monkey was sitting on a banana-leaf, directly over the
Tortoise; but, instead of banana, he dropped his excrement into the
Tortoise's mouth. The Tortoise screamed with rage; but the Monkey


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