No amount of soothing words could appease the mountain goddess Maryang Makiling. Her husband,
Banahaw, tried his best to mollify her, but failed. What triggered her outburst was the news that her former domain, the Mount Makiling Forest Park, is now officially a city - and with a new name to boot.
Apolonio Vallejo was the present mayor`s grandfather. He was the architect of the mountain town`s urbanization. It was he who allowed a network of roads to be built and the hilly terrain cleared of trees and subdivided into residential lots. So, the town council saw it fit, when the time came to declare their town a city, to change it`s name to Mount Apolonio.
That was the last straw. For decades, Marya suffered in silence. She just watch with foreboding the lowlanders gradual encroachment on her home. She said and did nothing when villages for the new rich sprouted along the slopes, bearing such exotic names as Beausoleil Homes, Pico de Aneto, Sylvan Spring Village, Saint Croix Ville, Montvert Villas, Montpellier Subdivision, Plateaux d`Or, and Valley High.
"I`ll have the last laugh yet, Banahaw," Marya said.
"Why- what are you going to do?"
"I will reforest Mount Makiling. I`ll plant my balete seeds atop the peaks."
"Please. Don`t be rash. We can no longer afford to antagonize the humans. You know how powerful
they`ve become. Our magic is no match to their weapons."
"Don`t worry. There are no houses at the peaks. No one will see me there.
"Why have things come to this? I can`t understand why Bathala permitted this to happen. Look the humans are now superior to us. They have completely eased me out of the very mountain I`m supposed to rule," lamented Marya.
"I hope you understand, but I must do this. I may never regain my mountain, but at least, I can make it a hellish dwelling-place for humans"
That very night, Marya traversed the distance between Mount Banahaw, her present home, and Mount Makiling astride her doe. Upon reaching the top of one of Mount Makiling`s three peaks, she proceeded forthwith to dig holes for the balete seeds. She also did that on the other two peaks. In no time at all, the seeds germinated and grew into mature trees, with their scary complement of gnarled roots that drop down from equally gnarled branches. These roots upon touching soil quickly grew into new trees, also with gnarled branches and roots which upon touching soil, again quickly grew into new trees.
It was an unending sequence - a veritable invasion. From the mountain peaks, hundreds of balete trees sprouted along the slopes, trails and concrete roads, and into the posh enclaves of the upscale villages. The village residents woke up into a nightmare. There are balete trees everywhere. Inside their yards and outside, an eerie forest was being grown.
Now, folklore have attributed occult properties to balete trees. They are said to be bewitched - the favorite abode of tikbalangs, kapres and other denizens of the underworld. Further compounding their mysterious image is the legend that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from one such tree. And perhaps, their very appearance, with their tangle of hanging roots that look like the unruly hair of a witch, contributed the most to their fearsome reputation. So, you can just imagine the terror felt by the village residents upon waking up amidst a balete forest.
Alarmed, the city mayor, Valentin Vallejo, called an emergency meeting. They convened in the municipal hall of a nearby town because their own city hall was already half-ruined. The moving, breathing roots of the balete trees have broken through concrete pavements, fences and walls, causing cracks to form all over the building. Burrowing tenaciously, the roots, which were truly umbilical cords interconnecting all balete trees, also caused vein-like cracks to appear on the walls of the chalets, mansions, bungalows and villas. The collapse of all structures on the mountain city was thus feared by everyone to happen anytime soon.
Present at the meeting, aside from the councilors and police officials, were the shamans- the herbal doctors, the faith-healers, and the gurus of the various cults and sects who made Mount Banahaw their temple. Though no great fan of these people, the mayor readily saw the necessity of summoning them, because it is apparent that what was happening was not an everyday natural occurrence.
"This is not a natural calamity," the mayor began. "Something supernatural is at work here. Whoever heard of a balete forest grown overnight? And a balete forest at that!"
"You`re right mayor!" the shamans chorused. "Indeed, someone`s exercising her magic powers!"
"We told you so. The mountain goddess is angry. This is her revenge. We already warned you many times in the past You should have listen to us," said Maestro Thelmo, the supremo of the Watawat ng Langit sect.
"Yes, Maryang Makiling is angry. This is obviously her handiwork. Serves you right for turning her wilderness haunt into a concrete jungle," added Amang Turno, the self-styled pope of the end-day cult Barrio Wakas.
"Maryang Makiling and Banahaw must be laughing at us now," said Tandand Pilo, the master
herbalist of a faith-healers` cabal.
.
"So, Maryang Makiling is the culprit then. You yourselves have accused her. She is our suspect and must therefore be arrested!" Mayor Vallejo declared.
"For what crime mayor?" Tandang Pilo asked
"For what crime? For causing all this destruction, that`s what. That`s vandalism, yes, vandalism. And terrorism too - for spreading fear and terror among the citizens."
"I don`t know. But she`s a goddess. How are you going to arrest a goddess?" Amang Turno asked.
"Oh, we can try. I and my men can try. As a start, we can perhaps hasten the urbanization of Mount Banahaw by burning its forest."
"God! You never learn Mayor. It was useless talking to you!" Maestro Thelmo cried.
"Say what you will. I must enforce the law. Tomorrow at dawn, a warrant of arrest will be served Maryang Makiling."
Meanwhile, the residents of the mountain city enlisted an army of tree-cutters to cut down the rampant balete trees. Armed with axes and chainsaws, these men were kept very busy indeed. No sooner had they felled a tree when saplings would shoot up from the concrete ground and mature in a matter of seconds. It was a hopeless task - a really unending sequence.
Early the next day, squads of soldiers and policemen swarmed through the dense jungles of Mount
Banahaw. They were armed with automatic rifles and flame-throwers. Mayor Vallejo was aboard a
helicopter. Using a megaphone, the mayor called on Maryang Makiling to please surrender. If she won`t, the mayor threatened, Mount Banahaw will be burned to the ground.
Deep in their cave palace, Marya and Banahaw heard him, and were very much troubled. They discussed their dilemma and thoroughly analyzed and weighed all the options open to them. And they realized that they really have no choice. With a heavy heart, Marya decided in the end to surrender, if only to prevent their forest realm from being destroyed.
Maryang Makiling gave herself up. Banahaw wanted to go with her, but she implored him not to. She was not detained in a jail, however, for no jail could keep her. It was widely believed that she had the power to penetrate solid walls and doors. She was brought instead to Mayor Vallejo`s house- or what remained of it- where she was accorded the deference due a goddess.
"We are willing to compromise, Marya," the mayor said. "We will release you if you lift the curse you put on the city. Please stop the balete trees from further multiplying. The tree-cutters have given up. The people are getting desperate. And I am at my wit`s end."
"I`m really not that difficult to talk to. All right, I`ll lift my curse and tell you how to kill the balete trees. But you must not only release me: you must also recall your troops and pledge that you`ll never ever turn Mount Banahaw`s rainforest into another concrete jungle," Maryang Makiling demanded.
"Okay, I`ll do that.
"I pledge, no, I vow- I vow that Mount Banahaw shall always be a jungle paradise; that I`ll do
everything in my power to prevent others from desecrating and destroying it. May the wrath of Bathala fall on me if I break that vow. And may his lightning strike me now, right at this very spot, if I`m not sincere in my intentions. So help me God," the mayor intoned solemnly.
Pause. No one stirred. Everyone expected a bolt of lightning to strike the mayor. But none came.
"I have to believe you I guess. This is what you should do then. Tell your tree-cutters to go up the three peaks of Mount Makiling. Tell them to bring twelve sacks of salt with them- four sacks to each peak. Up each peak, they will find four balete trees that are seemingly old, but are not. They are the mother trees. Cut them down. Then sprinkle a sackful of salt on the soil around each stump. Once done, all the balete offspring will wither and die." And that was what the tree-cutters did.
Everything that Maryang Makiling said came to pass. The balete trees that engulfed the mountain
city promptly withered and die. But it was too late. Because all the chalets, mansions, bungalows and villas were ruined- their walls, floors and ceilings cracked to chunks by the previously moving, breathing, burrowing roots. Traumatized, the villagers saw it best to just abandoned their homes. They wouldn't want to live in a place where eerie forests grow overnight, and have for neighbors the tikbalangs, kapres, and other creatures who are believed to live there. So, in time (not overnight), lush vegetation again overran most of the villages, and Marya Makiling's dream of restoring her domain to its pristine condition, before the advent of the Vallejos, was partly realized.
Although many were saddened by the catastrophe, some were actually happy. The furniture-makers,
the charcoal-makers, and the woodcarvers of the surrounding towns were delirious with joy.
For there, right before their eyes, piled several feet high along every street of the mountain city, were the chopped trunks, branches and roots, which are the raw materials for their craft.
And those, they can have for free. Nevermind if they are said to be bewitched- the furnitures and carvings can always be exported. And the charcoal will be burned anyway.
So, what happened next to Maryang Makiling. Well, nothing- because as we all know, there is no Maryang Makiling. She doesn't exist, in the same manner that no balete seed that will grow and mature overnight exists. The events I narrated above are all imaginary, and the story is meant solely to be a cautionary tale. In real life, Mother Nature won't need a Maryang Makiling, or bewitched balete seeds, if she wants to exact revenge on humans. She has myriad ways of retaliating, which are all natural. There is absolutely no need for the supernatural stuff.
End
(The image above is an illustration I did for "Alamat ng Palay/ Legend of Rice," from the book written by Lampara Books Publisher Segundo Matias, Jr., entitled "Mga Modernong Alamat/ Modern Legends.")
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