The common Filipino dream is to be rich someday. In fact this is often the case why myriads of overseas Filipino workers brave years of uncertain employment and life in the Middle East---to pursue this often elusive dream. This Philippine folklore can serve as a reminder to us all.

The folklore starts with a man who saw a drowning old lady in a river one morning. He was on his way to get some breakfast from the river---some fresh water shrimp perhaps or a couple of mud fish. Then, the folklore continues, he saw an old lady in the river calling for help. He immediately dived into the river and rescued the old lady. Grateful, the old woman thanked the man and remarked that the man had a kind heart. Then, according to this folklore, she took something from her pocket. It was wrapped in an old cloth. She handed it to the man.

The man regarded the wrapped thing in his hand and looked at the old lady inquiringly. He opened it and, the folklore goes that the man saw a strange green stone. The old lady said the stone can grant three wishes. The first two wishes will be granted to a kind heart. But the third wish only to a pure heart. He was about to say something and turn to the old woman but, the Philippine folklore says, she was gone.

Back to his family, he showed them the stone after telling his wife and kid about the old woman and the 3 wishes. “Well, only one way to find out,” said his wife. They made two wishes; lots of money and cars---what a Filipino today might also wish for. And according to the folklore, it happened. They suddenly became very rich.

Life began to change. The Philippine folklore says, his wife became a gambler, he became a drunkard, and his kid rebelled about it all. Soon, he realized what was happening and took the stone and wished that their vices would disappear. Nothing happened. Then, according to the folklore, he remembered: only a pure heart would get the stone to work again. Closing his eyes, he reluctantly wished to return to their old life before he met the old lady. The folklore says, it happened. He got his family back, in peace and simple joy.

This Philippine folklore reminds us to check our priorities and hold on only to those things that really matter in life.

We all know sugarcane is sweet and from it comes our white or brown sugar. And according to a myth on it, sugarcane can also save suicidal people.

The myth starts with the time when there lived an accomplished but sad “datu” or chieftain. He had achieved a lot for his tribe at a young age but he seemed to be bored by it all. He didn’t find meaning in all his success. So, says the myth, he wondered what it was like to be in heaven. Perhaps, he thought, his satisfaction would be realized when he reached heaven. When? Why not right now? He told himself. So he planned to end his life then and there, says the myth.

One day, the myth reports, he prayed to Bathala (God), saying, “I am getting more bored and fed up with life everyday. As to my accomplishments here on Earth, I find them increasingly meaningless. Please allow me to ascend to heaven earlier!” Before this, he had thought of saying “allow me to kill myself” but later re-worded it to something more tolerable to God, the myth adds. He waited for a reply. Suddenly a voice said, “But your time on earth is not yet over.”

The datu felt a little disappointed and left the palace, says the myth. Then he went alone for walk around the forest. Suddenly an old man came up to him. Knowing the grievance in his heart, the old man, according to the myth, tried to cheer him up by saying,”It might surprise you

to know, my Lord, that we can already find heaven on earth!” With that remark, the myth says he led the datu to a place where there grew a kind of plant that has a long, slim, and tall body, and long leaves that looked very much like a bamboo. It looked like a long purple tube.

The myth further adds that the old man went on to say,”This is a heavenly plant. Its incredibly sweet stem will take you to heaven.” The datu started chewing its stem and found it indeed very sweet. According to the myth he really felt like heaven. He told himself, this sweet tube-plant was even sweeter than all his achievements combined. He examined the tube-plant and decided to call it a tube, or “tubo” in the vernacular.

The Philippine myth on the sugarcane teaches us that things that really give meaning in life are simple things.

Is it true that caches of treasures--notably, Yamashita treasures-- are buried in secret places in the Philippines? How did they get there in the first place? Treasure hunting in the country is accompanied by numerous Philippine myths or tales on them—from word of mouth and some even from the news.

Treasure hunting takes place in the country now and then, more so for the Yamashita treasures. Lots were illegal. Philippine legends say treasures are said to come from two sources—the Second World War and the unseen supernatural world.

According to a Philippine myth, Hitler tied up with Italy and Japan, worrying the Allied Forces about Vatican treasures that might fall in The Fuehrer’s hands. They were said to have secretly smuggled out some treasures and kept in England. But Hitler was gaining more ground faster than expected. So they were shipped out to Hongkong. But the Japanese intercepted it and diverted it to Australia.

But a super typhoon destroyed the Japanese fleet and the treasures ended up somewhere between the Visayas and Mindanao. That’s how it came to the Philippines, says a Philippine legend.

The treasures were gradually transported to Manila, says the myth, and portions were stashed away in remote mountains, caves, old churches, old monuments, old trees, or underground.

Then Americans came to free Manila forcing General Yamashita to divide his forces, each carrying enormous amounts of treasures. Some headed north, some to provinces around Manila. Filipino slaves were said to have carried the bulk of the treasures and did lots of the digging, says Philippine legends about them.

The Filipinos were later killed, along with scores of Japanese soldiers, to ensure the treasures’ secrecy. Later, According to the Philippine myth, ranking Japanese soldiers reportedly returned to the country as tourists after the war and recovered a lot of the treasure—again with the help of Filipinos.

Souls of those killed in the course of treasure hiding are said to be guarding them. So ghost stories accompany tales of the Yamashita treasures. They say, where ghosts of Japanese soldiers abound; there a treasure might be hidden. Tales of white ladies are also connected to treasures, more of the Yamashita treasures, according to Philippine myths-—they were rape victims of Japanese soldiers.

The local version of fairy tales has its own story. Local, flat-nosed nymphs, fairies, leprechauns, gnomes, and the like are said to be spirit guardians of unimaginable hoards of wealth—fact is, the tales say, Filipinos are sitting on a mountain of gold. And these are not just natural resources; they are literally treasures of gold.

Philippine myths or legends of treasures never die. They're taken seriously even by respectable people. And who knows? They might indeed be real, and those of us who laugh at these tales might one day discover too late that the joke was on us.

The sugarcane tree is somewhat similar to a bamboo tree. And among interesting Philippine folklores on the sugarcane is on why the sugarcane became an outcast from among light colored bamboo trees, only to be honored later as an important medicinal and sweetening plant.

One day clusters of bamboos were happily swaying their tall slender bodies as the wind gently blew. Not far away stood a short lonely bamboo. It seemed to have stopped growing. The other bamboos reached to the skies while this loner, as this folklore on the sugarcane points out, just stood about more than 5 feet fall. Moreover, it found itself standing alone in the middle of the plain while the rest stood proudly in groups sometimes on hilly terrain, as if atop pedestals.

Folks from the nearby town often went to the clusters to cut those that have beautifully matured and were made into useful things that people always appreciated. This folklore on the sugarcane goes on to say that when so utilized the bamboos took pride in their importance, especially how people put value in them. People always saw beauty, strength, and usefulness from among the trees in the clusters but never even glanced at the lone bamboo tree.

The lone bamboo finally made a wish one day—it wished to be made as important and also put to good use, as any other bamboo tree around. All of a sudden dark clouds covered the sky and a sharp lightning struck and turned it into a dark bamboo. Now, it’s not only short. Aside from being dark its wood became too soft to be anything as useful as a bamboo. The more the bamboo trees mocked at the lone tree, not aware that this was the start of a beautiful folklore on the sugarcane.

One day a man stood near the lone bamboo and etched his name on its bark. He noticed a sweet scent emitting from the etching. It was so sweet that he was tempted to sample the liquid that oozed out from it. It was sweet and refreshing. Finally he cut a good size and started munching. At last, the folklore on the sugarcane ended the way the lone bamboo had wished—to be useful and important. And since then it had become a vital plant grown in fields.

Today, we know that sugarcanes are different from bamboos. But this folklore on the sugarcane teaches us a lesson: everything has a purpose, even seemingly inconsequential things.

At first glance, anybody would think that Tabaco, Albay in Legaspi City probably got its name from some tobacco plants in the area. Well, one thinking that would wrong.

Here’s a folklore on how the place really got its name.

The folklore begins with a time when the Bicol region, during Spanish times, was said to be inhabited by very friendly natives. But then some Spaniards occupying the region became hostile to the inhabitants. Being too cruel to the natives, the news soon spread quickly to other localities in the area. Soon, many local people despised the mere sight of the invaders. One day, the folklore has it that two Spaniards ventured to some remote village and there found a beautiful young lady. She was known in the place for her talent for herbal medicine. One of the two foreigners fell for her native beauty.

The young lady’s father was annoyed by the two foreigners so that one day, as the folklore goes, when the two came over to the girl’s home for a visit and some herbal medicine samples, her father reacted in an unfriendly manner. The folklore adds that the place was also known for the people’s penchant for bladed weapons and its craft. Thus, the father owned a well sharpened native sword known in the vernacular as a “tabak.” The folklore stresses that every man in that village was armed with a “tabak” as a work implement and for self-defense.

So, as the Spaniards approached, they wondered about what the name of the place was. They thought it was a perfect way to establish rapport with the father. Coming closer and asking the name of the place, the folklore says the father was very alarmed at them and shouted to her daughter for his native sword. “Give me my sword! Give me my sword!” In the vernacular, he said, “Tabak ko! Tabak ko!” The foreigners, thinking that the answer to their query was “Tabaco,” soon spread the word that the name of the place was Tabaco in Albay. Soon afterwards, even local folks started calling their place by the name.

What of the “tabak” and the Spaniards? Well, the folklore admits that the natural friendly and hospitable spirit of the natives in the place got the better of the father, and soon the foreigners were tolerated and befriended.

Though fond of deadly bladed weapons, this folklore shows a people naturally gifted with kindness and hospitality can still opt for peaceful settlement in the face of adversity.

Ant hills are distinct earth mounds on the ground where ant underground condos are hid. Right? Well, says a Philippine tale, they’re more than that. They’re actually mystical kingdoms disguised as earth heaps. So the Philippine myth warns anybody making fun of them or meaning them harm.

The Philippine myth started before the Spaniards came to the country, when Christianity was not heard of yet. Then, native tribes believed in mystic pagan gods ruling the physical realm from their invisible kingdoms. But some thought the kingdoms to be coexistent with the real world, moving with them in their daily activities. But both versions believed that for some reasons, the kingdoms could wish to surface and claim territory. If so, according to this Philippine myth, they appeared as mounds on the ground.

Up to this day, this Philippine myth is believed even by some Manila residents. They fear touching or even staring at earth mounds, especially those that pop up over days or overnight. These mounds are said to “grow” and the higher they grow the more power the have, or so this Philippine myth says.

Elves or dwarfs often figure in this tale. Ant hills often grow beside trees. Some are lonely ant hills amid fields or lots. Where ant hills abound, so are spiritual elfin creatures, says this Philippine myth. They are said to rule the area. And what can they do? According to this Philippine myth, these dwarfs can inflict lots of fearsome mischief on the offender. Some people swear to have been harmed by them, struck ill with mysterious diseases no physician could treat.

The Philippine myth adds that there are two ways to lick off the infliction: call quack-doctors or pacify the elfin spirits. With quacks the victim gets a chance to ward off inflictions through some eerie rituals. With pacifying spirits, the victim gets to offer little sacrifices like chicken’s blood, food offering, or merely apologizing. The Philippine myth avers that when favored by dwarfs, a person is said to be given gifts or powers by such elves, but with dire later consequences.

Yet, lots of people claim they nonchalantly trample such ant hills flat or shovel them away. And sure enough, they say, they find no mystical creature inside save armies of ants, termites, and tiny moths.

Philippine myth on ant hills can teach us either of two things: never mess up with anything you know nothing of or, the termite infested ceiling costing sums to repair is blamable to an ant hill somewhere in the yard.

Health buffs say among the purest water source today is the water inside a coconut. Through Science we know that plants produce fruits and juices though the action of sunlight and carbon dioxide in a process called photosynthesis. But people long ago had another version of why coconuts produced sweet pure water inside its shell. We find this in one of the popular folk myths on how water is “trapped” inside a coconut shell.

Although the Philippines is an archipelago surrounded by bodies of water there is scarcity of water in some parts of it. The same was said to be true hundreds of years ago. Especially when the dry spell is over the land during summer some parts ran out of water source. In one such season Noog, a slim native boy from southern Luzon, was said to have scoured the place for precious clean water. The popular folk myth said he went to a high place in search of it.

Then he chanced upon an underground water source, or “bukal” in the vernacular, from among the deep caves found on the top of a mountain. He went down the descending cavern and found a cool clean underground spring. He drank some and kept some in a container made of bamboo. According to the popular folk myth, he left the place and vowed to keep the place a secret so he and his family alone could benefit from it. He descended the mountain in high hopes but then was blocked by several folks from town. They demanded water.

Noog refused to give them any and determined to withhold the information on the underground water source. The folks were enraged by Noog’s obstinate stand and they decided to kill and bury him on a remote place on the plain. As a last resort to save his life, Noog offered to tell them where the “bukal” was found, to no avail. Then, the popular folk myth says, the folks saw a strange tree growing on the plains one day. It grew to be a tall and slender tree with large nuts the size of a human head.

People then started to call the tree and its nuts Noog’s water from the “bukal” and as time went it shortened to simply Noog or “bukal.” Much later on, the popular folk myth referred to them as “Niyog” or “Buko,” as coconut is called today. The lesson in this popular folk myth is that we should always willingly share our blessings.
 

World renowned Philippine sticks martial arts called Arnis de Mano (literally, “harness of the hands”) is still looking for who actually founded it. Popular in Asia, America and Europe especially today, Philippine masters still debate how it started.

There are various versions of the origin of Arnis (or sometimes called Eskrima or Kali), but most seem to agree that it evolved from the sophisticated arts of China—specifically from the Shaolin Temple.

Many writers have attempted to chronicle the history of Filipino Martial Arts and intimated that Arnis was brought here from different parts of Southeast Asia by different Filipinos with different styles.

One tale goes like this: Long ago Chinese trade vessels docked at the port of Binundok (Binondo), a hilly part of pre-Hispanic Manila. Not far away was a Chinese settlement where Chinese Expats who liked the island lived. Here, an islander, Botho Pula, worked for a Chinese businessman.

Well, before he worked for the Chinese he had a quarrel with him. The Old Chinese easily beat him in the fist fight. To cut the story short, he agreed to work for free as a sign of penitence.

Before long, the old man saw Pula’s loyalty and took him to visit China. Pula eventually ended up studying in the Shaolin Temple. But in the Ming Dynasty, the temple was burned down by the Manchus and the temple monks massacred. Those who survived, Pula among them, were in hiding. The old Chinese was not as lucky.

Pula managed to find his way back to Manila passing through different Southeast Asian countries, taking in several stick fighting styles as he did—Indonesia, Thailand, Borneo, Malaysia, and finally, the Philippines.

From Kuta Kinabalu in Malaysia he landed first in Mindanao and worked his way to Manila from there, imparting the sticks arts he formulated to many natives on the islands. Later, a school of fighting arts in Mindanao was named “Bothoan.”

The natives each had different versions of what he taught them, owing much to different word meanings in their different dialects. Back in Manila, he taught the art to some natives of the North before he finally died.

When the Spanish conquistadores came to the Philippines years after Pula’s death, a cultic group of fierce and highly skilled warriors in the Visayas gave the Spaniards a real pain in the neck. They called themselves the Pulahanes.

Philippine Arnis art still remains fatherless except for some far-fetched claims such as tales like this. Yet, it remains part of the country’s proud heritage and among the deadliest fighting arts in the world.

On a quiet town of Talim Island in Binangonan, Rizal is a curious mountain that resembles the robust breast of a young, slim virgin. Mt. “Susong Dalaga” (“breast of a young virgin”) has many tales and myths circulating in the lowland vicinities, and this myth version is among them.

A young virgin lying down the green meadows of a nearby hill---this is how most old folks in the locality of Sapang in Talim would probably start the myth on the 200-meter high mountain that is said to be inhabited by monkeys, iguanas, and wild boars. The native beauty of this unnamed teenage virgin was once said to be the town’s pride and the townsmen’s obsession. She had lots of suitors, and the myth even ventures to say that all the men of the place and the adjacent towns all came running after her.

She had the most conspicuously upright breasts of all the women in the place, and made sure the prominence was even more pronounced through the showy dresses she wore. Her suitors feasted their eyes on her most striking feature---the myth depicting men falling heads over heels, drowning in their wild imagination.

But the young virgin didn’t seem impressed by any of them. All she ever did was to go up the hill and lie down to watch the distant Laguna Bay quietly. Nobody knew exactly where she lived---the myth paints her as an elusive maiden, suddenly seen ambling in pathways, and then disappearing into the thickets. Accordingly, she was some kind of a human with the delicate features of a mystical creature---a nymphet’s fine physique, a voice as soft as the bay’s breeze, a face as clear as a summer morning sky, and hair as full as the fields in harvest, and black as the Binangonan night.

Then the women of the vicinity started turning against her. Losing their husbands and sons to this alluring damsel, they sought to bury her alive and leave nothing of her but a myth, assigning her memory to oblivion. And one night they did so. Spotting her strolling to her favorite hilltop, they choked her to death and buried her right on the hilltop, ending her life and starting her myth.

Mornings after, the hilltop gradually transformed to resemble the full-bodied breast of a young virgin. Even to this day, men stop to stare in wonder at the amazing likeness it has to the real thing---and if the myth was real after all.

Philippine succulent mangoes are among the well patronized products in the international market since early times. One of the Philippine myths on the mango fruit goes this way.

Long time ago, so this Philippine myth goes, in a wooden villa deep in the forest was a beautiful lady. An only daughter of an old, old couple, they wanted her married as soon as possible. They feared dying without seeing her married. This Philippine myth says Pangga was her name, meaning “object of love” in the vernacular. Aside from her arresting natural pulchritude, she was very industrious, kind, and smart with rustic wisdom. Moreover, Pangga knew a lot of trade skills that had earned her quite a bit of money. Thus, her parents wanted nothing but the best man for her.

But Pangga fell for a local poet, a professional dreamer. He was known in the village as a desperate writer whose works of poetry made meager money. This Philippine myth continues that Manong, the dreamer, lived in the fields and slept in mangers. He was the town’s vagrant. But one thing about him; he had a knack for speaking sweet nothings, a full-pledged sweet talker who could promise the sun, moon and stars to the one his eyes beheld. Girls in town went crazy for him (though they never bought his poems) but his eyes were only for Pangga.

His sweet nothings never fooled old folks, though. His own parents, when still alive, often remarked “Please cut out the sweet pleasantries!” when he was at his verbal talent again. In the vernacular the remark went “Manong magtigil ka nga!” So, as this Philippine myth goes, they gave him the nickname Manong.

Pangga’s parents never bought Manong’s promises of bringing down the sun and moon to shine on their forest-dimmed bungalow and other sweet nothings. “You’re always saying that sun-moon conversation of yours. That’s all you know!” Pangga’s parents mocked him. But Manong and Pangga sought to stubbornly keep their love vows till their dying day. Then, the Philippine myth says, one day they disappeared in the woods.

The Philippine myth ends with a discovery of a new kind of tree. Its fruit was a bit crescent-shaped like the moon, yellow like the sun, and sweet like Manong’s tongue. It was rich in nutrition as Pangga’s multi-faceted genius. In time it was called “Manga,” a mix of their names, and today’s vernacular for mango.

The Philippine myth on mango fruits is a local version of Romeo and Juliet but which went sweeter as to create a sweet offspring---the mango fruit.