CABUGAW

SOUND

“Fatherland, hear my song. I extol the wondrous music echoing from your heart. The gushing of the monsoon wind on my face, the gigantic azure currents of the nearby South China sea, and the tremors of the great Cordillera rock- all of them grumble harmoniously for my love and appreciation. Now I hum exuberantly that I love and appreciate the marvels of nature.“

God is a lover of music – He blessed my beloved land with heartsongs of mirth and tranquility. He created the verdant, towering bamboo grasses who play their slender instruments as the weeds and flowers dance in all grace and might. Others are the masterpieces of His fingers. Leaves contribute their share, too, with their sweet-sounding rhythms of rustling and swaying. Bees, with their buzzing sounds, embroider the finishing touches of the musical piece in morning, while the fireflies end the composition at night. Grasshoppers and locusts are violinists – with the rubbing of their legs that produce passionate music of the strings. The docile carabaos groan with their basso profundo voice, while the loving hens cackle their arias in search for their chicks. Away from the common field, snakes, the villains, known for their slyness, hiss and waylay for the lost chicks. The chicks weep ear-piercingly when the voice of death is near.

In my town’s poblacion, you can find the busiest and most raucous of all streets. The pattering of horses along with their carriages produce a monotonous rhythm, while in the marketplace, vendors persuade their customers in their cacophonous chants. At the town stage, rondallas performing Spanish pieces provide background for flamenco dancers. Everyday, the clamorous clanging of church bells alarm churchgoers. People inside the church kneel to mutter words of praise to God, while on Sundays the stentorian voice of the Castilian priests breeze through the church and around the plaza. Sometimes the choir – mixture of soprano mestizas, alto natives, tenor peninsulares and bass indios – resonate the whole pueblo. After the mass, gaggles of gossipers rush the streets and chuckle in the heights of their tones. Inside homes, the sizzling resonance of the ambrosia cooked in pots participate in the children’s mimicking and humming of animal moans and opera songs.

The world is an orchestra – where the gifts of nature are the players and God is the composer and conductor. As long as I am living in this beautiful paradise, Cabugaw, I will sing of His love and hum a thanksgiving prayer for all these magnificent sounds that complete my life. – Istak

TOUCH

I love riding on an Abra horse. With its fuzzy hair, I reminisce my Cordillera moments with Padre Jose, wearing his satiny ebony cassock, as we preach God’s Word to the natives. The horse is my favorite transportation, especially when passing through rough roads, shallow rivers, terrifying woods and Cabugaw streets.

I love feeling and touching membranes that coat and the soft movements of Cabugaw. Cabugaw is surrounded with slender grasses and massive trees, and in the middle does a solid, bulky adobe wall shield the town proper. The atmosphere of the tropics is evident, with the lukewarm morning, scorching afternoon, and frozen night. The charring, grainy sands of the shores are contradictory to the sometimes mushy and sometimes cemented cool soil of the forest. The spirits of Cabugaw that drift down the soil of toil shroud the townsfolk with horror and fright. The silky petals of the flowers evince God’s glory, while their spiky, thorny stems elicit His wrath.

I love traveling around Cabugaw. Because of its caressing textures and provocative atmosphere, I usually close my eyes and slouch in the grass, waiting for great and small creatures touch not only my skin but my whole spirit as well. Truly, Cabugaw is a land of marvelous motions that comfort my skin, mystify my mind, and heal the wounds of my heart.

I love Cabugaw. –Istak