PASKANG paita kining kahimtang namo dinhi sa Trinidad. Upat ka bulan na me sa barko, nag-antos diri sa dagat Pacifico. Paskang lapara, paskang layu-a jud. Walay kaon. Walay tubig. Daghan nakasakit, nangamatay. Animal jud ni si Ferdinand Magellan.
I don’t know how we lasted this long voyage of my master Magellan, our captain of this ship, el Trinidad. We’ve already lost two ships, San Antonio and Santiago. We started with five ships when we left Spain. Ang nabilin na lang, intawon, ang Victoria, Concepcion, ug Trinidad.
Oy, ayaw mo lang katingala, here they called me Enrique de Malacca. But I never told anyone here in this ship Trinidad that I actually came from the village of Carcar, on the island of Sugbu, later known as Cebu. Some years before, a trading vessel from Sumatra unloaded cargo in Sugbu and during a brief rest, one of the Malay crewmen met my pretty Sugbuanon mother in Carcar, fell in love and bore a child – me. But when I was six years old, my Malayan father on one of his frequent voyages here to unload cargo, took me along with him on the vessel back to his home port of Malacca.
One night, an armada of Portuguese ships, led by Ferdinand Magellan, razed and plundered the village of my father who was killed along with so many others, leaving me alone. By that time, I was around 14 years old when Magellan, who commanded one of the ships, bought me as his personal slave and brought me back to Portugal, where he raised me as his own personal servant. So, when Magellan was planning his next voyage back to Malacca, he brought me along. This time sailing westward, crossing the Atlantic towards the coast of South America, sailing along its coast all the way to the southernmost tip where he found a way to reach the Pacific Ocean. All this time I was on his ship Trinidad as his “interpreter” since I spoke Malay. All those years I grew up in Portugal, he never knew I also spoke Bisayan, a loose street dialect of Sugbuanon, or Cebuano.
SO HERE I was, lying on my smelly, dirty canvas hammock with more than fifty other hammocks of the ship’s crew from different countries, all getting used to the smell, like a hundred decaying dead rats, inside the ship’s hold beneath the main deck. That kind of smell that hit deep into my stomach and made me throw up several times. Even tying and covering up my nose with a rag was of no use as the smell hovered all over the ship’s hold, the mixed smells from crews suffering from many diseases, mainly scurvy, due to extreme hunger and thirst, all longing for food and clean drinking water. Scrounging for months, looking for anything to eat, some crewmen found some stale biscuits and dried, decomposing meat and sharing them with the others. Some lucky ones caught a couple of rats and ate them raw without waiting for the ship’s cook to broil them or turn them into broth.
We were all getting used to the shouting and screaming among angry crewmen since we all knew most of us could not understand each other. All in all, on this voyage of five ships when we left Spain in 1520, there were about 50 Spaniards, 40 Portuguese, 29 Italians, 17 French, plus a smattering of Greeks, Swedish, Germans, etc. In our ship Trinidad, I was bumping into these Spaniards, Basques, Greeks, Italians and could not understand a word they were saying, so I survived all these daily encounters with crude sign language, flaying my hands around to make a point, until we gave up. My most difficult time with them was trying to understand the different terms they used to describe what they did all over the ship – especially when they scrambled all over, climbing the rope ladders, unfolding the large canvas sails, pulling the ropes to lift the folded sails, etc.
One Basque crewman was patient enough to point out to me the mainmast, the mizzen mast, the foremast as well as where the stern, aft, bow, quarter deck, main deck, etc., were located in the ship. I didn’t care to remember them as I was so confused. But he did managed to point out to me the “captain’s cabin” where my master Magellan called me sometimes for some errands around the ship. Since this was one spot in the ship that I frequently entered to bring food and bottles of wine for my master, I got so used to seeing him pouring over maps on a table and stepping outside at the quarter deck, opening his sextant to measure the stars and giving orders to the ship’s pilot of the new ship’s heading. I knew the pilot was as ignorant as the rest of us as to where our ship Trinidad was heading.
Looking out at sea, whether on the bow or on the shipside barristers, sick and hungry crewmen in tattered shirts, old vests, and dirty pants gripped hanging ropes, seeing nothing ahead of us but an endless ocean, clear blue sky with scattered cumulus clouds and the deep blue sea under a blistering sun with nothing to hear but the splashing sea water giving way to the rushing ship’s bow as it pitched and rolled, rising and falling, cutting through the salty waves of the great Pacific.
MARCH 15, 1521
Finally one morning, after all these months at sea, a Spanish lookout standing on the small platform atop the main mast was heard screaming at the top of his voice.
“Tierra! Tierra! Mira lejos! Tierra”
I watched Magellan burst out of the captain’s cabin, trailed closely by the ship’s writer Antonio Pigafetta, looking so excited, gripping his big journal book as the bearded captain rushed to the bow of the ship, pulled out a long telescope and peered long and hard.
Magellan put down the telescope, looking at the direction of land in the far distance, a hazy faint blue. “Madre de puta! Tierra! Esto tierra!” were the only words he kept uttering at that moment, his hands shaking so much, he could not keep his telescope from shaking, as he passed it to the anxious Pigafetta who peered and saw the faint blue shape of an island.
“Sí, sí, una tierra, una tierra verde!” Pigafetta kept nodding, wiping tears of joy, then looked up and made a quick sign of the cross. “Gracias, muy gracias, madre de dios !”
That was the first time I saw both of them so excited after more than four months sailing in the Pacific and along the South American coast. I felt the excitement of all the ship’s crew, seeing their long prayers answered for food and water. This time, no more rats, no stale biscuits, no more spoiled dried meat infested with worms.
Finally, what was even more exciting was seeing several small boats, mostly canoes, cutting across the water, approaching our three ships, Concepcion, Victoria, and Trinidad, while dropping anchor near the coast of an island. Along with the crew, we all watched the long canoes with natives on board approaching the side of our ship. Half naked, sun-baked women and men garbed in colorful shawls were all smiling, holding up in their hands varieties of fruits, fish, and coconuts to all the hungry crewmen above them who were all stretching their arms and hands, some crying for food. The sight of so much food looked almost like a dream to all of us who fought off hunger all these months at sea.
“Enrique! Pronto!” I heard my master Magellan calling out to me to join him, along with Pigafetta and other crewmen on the other side of the ship. They were all looking down at the native women, standing on their boats, offering all kinds of food and fruits and shouting a foreign language no one understood.
Magellan led me to the ship’s side, pointing to the natives, “Cosa hablar? What are they saying?”
“Hafa adai!”
“Hafa talamanu hao?”
“Magot you sa umali hit!”
This was the Mariana islands in the Pacific and frankly, I didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about. I tried out my crude Malay but they simply stared at me and shrugged, spreading out their arms and hands trying to say, “We don’t know what you are talking about!”
So I tried out a few Bisayan words to see if they understood me as Magellan and Pigafetta watched, desperately hoping my words could finally connect with the natives.
“Salamat! Salamat kaayo! Namaligya ba mo?”
By all the gestures they were making, I was figuring out that they wanted to exchange their food and fruits for something in return. I saw two native women below pointing to something we had on the ship in exchange for their foodstuff. So I turned to Magellan, almost shouting above all the rising din from below, “Cambiar! Intercambiarse! They want to trade!”
Magellan quickly turned to the crews gathering on the deck, “Pronto! Vamos cambiar! Gather anything we can give them! Pronto! Extra tools! Armors! Helmets! Coats! Caps! Anything!”
The crew scrambled all over the ship, above deck, below deck, ship hold, etc., gathering things that could be given away in exchange for food – coconuts, chickens, papaya, root crops, and other foodstuff from the Mariana natives. But sadly, the exchange never took place in our ship.
From the corner of my eyes, I saw some of the natives scrambling up the side of the ship towards our two row boats tucked by the ship hull. I saw them clutching knives and cutting the tied ropes holding up the boats. The two row boats plunged to the sea below, followed by the natives howling, yelping, snickering, and laughing as they pulled the two row boats away from the ship. Seeing what was happening, the crewmen started screaming at them, led by the angry ship’s First Mate Gines de Mafra who drew and waved his sword at them.
“Hoyyy!! Hijo de puta! Ladrones!” were the only words coming from Gines’s mouth as he scrambled to get his musket below deck after Magellan ordered the whole crew to get their muskets, load them and go after the thieves from the island. Sounds of muskets firing shots reverberated around the ship as crewmen aimed at the fleeing natives pulling the two row boats they stole from Trinidad. From afar along the shore, we could see and hear the natives laughing at us.
I’ve never seen Magellan so furious and angry in the four months at sea crossing the wide Pacific Ocean. That was just too much for the captain. His blood boiling, Magellan ordered all the ship crews of Trinidad, Concepcion, and Victoria to gather all their muskets, ammunitions, and cannons, lower all the available row boats. “Ladrones! Go after them! Attack the village!”
From the shipside, I saw Pigafetta, the ship pilot Andres and our chaplain Pedro Valderrama leaning against the railings, watching Magellan and Mafra leading the attack, together with the captains and crewmen of the two other ships on the island’s coastal village, plundering and burning all the grass huts and bamboo houses after allowing women and children to flee, shooting and hacking down angry natives lunging at them with spears, machetes, and axes.
Before the island warriors managed to regroup and come running to fight back, Magellan’s men from the three ships turned back and clambered back to their row boats, back to their ships, pulling back the two boats stolen from them by the natives. From the shipside, weould hear them shouting, “Ladrones! Ladrones! Hijo de puta! Ladrones!”
Returning to the ship Trinidad, Magellan turned to Pigafetta who was holding his thick journal book, holding his quill pen. The exhausted captain, still dripping wet and gripping a bloody sword, took a deep breath and said “Escribirtu ahora mismo, nombre este isla, Ladrones!”
Pigafetta’s eyes widened, his jaw dropping. “Isla de los Ladrones?” He couldn’t believe the name given by the captain – Island of Thieves. Magellan looked at him long and hard. “Isla de los Ladrones! Ladrones! Comprende?”
“Madre de dios,” muttered the chaplain Valderrama, making a quick sign of the cross.
Pigafetta, wrote it down, forced a laugh, “Islas de Ladrones, hah!” and closed the journal book as he trailed the fuming Magellan back to his cabin.
MARCH 16, 1521
Several days later, sailing southeast from the Marianas islands, a crewman manning the view deck atop the mainmast suddenly pointed to something in the distance.
“Tierra! Tierra! Isla!”
We saw the hazy faint blue mountains from our ship, along with many other islands nearby. After peering from his telescope, Magellan ordered the pilot Andres to steer the Trinidad along the coast of the big island going southwest, followed by the other ships, uttering “Zamal” to Pigafetta beside him, who promptly wrote down the word in his journal. Seeing the passing coastline of the big island, the crew, still suffering from pangs of hunger and diseases, waited anxiously for the captain’s final command to drop anchor and finally go ashore.
After reaching the tip of Zamal which became Samar island later, Magellan then ordered Pigafetta to write “Islas de San Lazaros,” noting that it was the day of San Lazarus. Then he prodded Andres to head straight to the big island up ahead. The ship finally dropped anchor a short distance from the rocky shore that stretched all the way to a long panorama of lush coconut trees lining the entire horizon of the island. Standing beside the captain, Pigafetta wrote a description of the deserted island after writing the date, March 16, 1521, turned to Magellan and asked if he also had a name for the island. “Tiene usted nombre para esta isla?”
“Humunu,” said Magellan, squinting his eyes from the sun.
“Humunu?” Pigafetta lifted his pen.
“Sí, sí, Humunu. Esta isla es un paradiso,” the captain said, breaking into a smile through his long thick beard. When I heard this later from Pigafetta himself, I didn’t know what he really meant, not even after the name later became Homonhon. Soon I heard Magellan ordering all the crew of the three ships to gather tools and materials to bring ashore to build temporary shelters made of old canvas sails held up by bamboo poles and tree branches. I pointed to Magellan the coconut trees and suggested the crew can also use coconut palms as rooftops for temporary lean-tos and camp shelters. The ship captain broke into a grin, patted my back and said, “Bueno, muy bueno, Enrique, muchas gracias!”
Preparations to go ashore were taking a full day for the three ships, but a few rowboats from two ships began reaching the shores of the island with axes and machetes, cutting down young trees to build the shelters on the island of Homonhon.
MARCH 17, 1521
On the following the day, almost all the crewmen from our Trinidad and the two other ships had already gone ashore. With Pigafetta, we watched them build the temporary shelters under the shade of coconut trees lining the island shore, using ropes to support the rooftops of canvas awnings and coconut leaves.
We followed Magellan as he lowered himself to one of the rowboats below the ship, followed by the ship pilot Andres and Pigafetta with his journal book held tightly close to his chest. As flocks of gulls began flying around us, I saw Pigafetta looking so fascinated with the gulls, he began to laugh and stood up on the rowboat, trying to reach the big birds hovering above him, rocking the boat violently, he lost his balance and fell into the sea. Two crewmen jumped into the choppy sea, both laughing after Pigafetta began screaming, “Ayuda, kapitan! Gines! No se nadar!”
After pulling him back to the rowboat dripping wet, the ship writer turned frantic, “Mi libro! Donde esta mi libro?” he cried looking for his journal book. Behind us we saw a canoe with a native fisher rowing fast after the book floating nearby and finally grabbing it with his hands from the sea.
Looking sunburnt, the fisher broke into a toothless grin, as he waved the wet book to us, seated on the rowboat. I clearly heard him said, “Inyoha ni? I realized he was talking in Bisayan.
Magellan, Andres, Gines, and the crewmen were all waving at him, laughing and smiling. The ship captain then called out to him,” Muy gracias! Muchas gracias, senyor!”
I called out to him, aloud, “Salamat ! Salamat kaayo daw!”
Taken aback, the fisher was suddenly wide-eyed, looking at me. “Oooy! Bisaya ka diay, bai?”
“Bisdak jud, bai! Bisaya ko dako! Gikan Carcar, Cebu ako inahan.”
“Ayaw na ta,” he laughed. “Ngano kauban ka sa ilaha?”
“Atsoy ko ning bungoton!” I said, rolling my eyes in Magellan’s direction.
Still grinning widely, Magellan butted in. “Dile que necesitamos comida, medicina, Enrique. Sabe tu con elle!”
I passed on Magellan’s request. “Gi gutom me kaayo, bai. Daghan pud naka sakit sa amon. Maka tabang mo sa amon? Mo bayad lang me”
The fisherman kept nodding.“Sige, sige, bai. Adto-on nako amon hari-hari diha sa Samar karon dayon. Hulat ra mo diri.”
I almost forgot asking him.“Unsa diay imong ngalan?”
“Maryo, bai. Yoyoy akong angga. Imo?”
“Enrique, bai. Paabot me nimo diri, ha? Salamat kaayo, Yoyoy!”
Before he left, he unloaded all his fish catch in a woven basket, turning them all to one of the crewmen from our rowboat before turning his banca around for the long trip back to the nearby bigger island of Samar.
On the night of March 17, I watched the group of Magellan, Andres, and Pigafetta on the beach of Homonhon, looking at the blackness of the sky with billions of stars above us. Aiming a sextant to the North Star, the ship captain said something to Andres who was taking down notes and numbers on the readings. It was a moonless night, flickers of orange fire light from small bonfires were everywhere along the dark coast, faintly lighting up the coconut fronds above them, amidst snickering, murmurs and sudden burst of laughter among the crewmen sheltering under their makeshift, improvised camps, broiling the fish given earlier by the fisher from nearby Samar Island. After Magellan talked to some of the crewmen of the three ships encamped along the shores of Homonhon, I followed the group of the ship captain, first mates and pilots back to the ships anchored a short distance from the island.
MARCH 18, 1521
The following day, March 18, I was awaken from my hammock by excited voices above me, where I found the crewmen pointing to several big and small bancas with outriggers and sails coming towards our ship. Magellan also barged out from the captain’s cabin, followed by Pigafetta, Gines, and Andres. They looked very excited after seeing so many bancas filled with several bundles of food and baskets of fruits reaching the shores of Homonhon where many of the crewmen spent the night under their makeshift shelters.
Seeing all these, Magellan ordered us all to get into the boats and row back to shore. There, among the many natives was an elderly man, his head neatly tied with a dark red turban, big necklaces of gold, big rings of gold hanging on his ears and garbed with royal garment wrapped around his waist, spreading his arms and breaking into a big smile.
“Mga higala! Nalipay ming tanan pag-abot inyo!” was all I heard him say to Magellan and his group. I told the ship captain that the chief who gave his name as Rajah Duha Sawa was very happy to meet him and the whole crew. “Buenvenido! Estamos encantados de conocerte!” was all I tried to tell the captain, unsure whether my translation was right.
All around us were big bundles of vegetables and fruits of every kind we could imagine: eggplants, squash, beans, cabbage, root crops, coconuts, papaya, bananas, citrus, etc. The Samar natives also brought many chickens, pigs, and a big basket of fresh fish which impressed the ship captain so much that he ordered two boatloads of boat tools, gifts, souvenirs, wine, caps, helmets – anything they could give in exchange for the food given by the natives. For the sick, the natives gave lots of ginger, citrus fruits, and tribal potions.
Magellan’s plan was for the three ships to stay on the island for about three to four days to rest completely, replenish our food supplies, heal the sick among the crew and prepare for the next journey. But a lot of things took place during our stay at Homonhon that made us linger longer. One of them was the bonfire dinners we had with the Rajah who happily shared with Magellan’s group, including me as translator, those lavish meals they probably never tasted in their countries.
I remembered the hot broth in a large boiling pot of vegetables like raddish, red and green pepper, vegetable leaves, ginger, along with pork belly and legs soured with sampaloc and camia fruit, cooked by the chief’s men and shared by Duha Sawa who often broke into laughter at his own jokes, but the captain and his men laughed nevertheless. Since he introduced his own concoction of coconut wine he called “tuba,” there was no stopping for Magellan, Andres, Gines, Pigafetta, and me to keep drinking that tasty sour brown wine, that I had difficulty remembering many Spanish words to interpret for the captain’s men.
Gines and Andres kept pointing to the chief’s big gold necklace, gold earrings, and gold bracelets whenever Duha Sawa made drunken gestures, flaying his hands around and laughing. Turning to me, Gines wanted me to ask him where he got all that gold. “De donde viene todos los oros?”
The drunk Samar chief turned to me,” Unsa daw sulti nya?”
“Asa daw gikan imohang mga bulawan,” I hollered above the din of blabbering, laughing, and shouting around the bonfire. Duha Sawa pulled me closer to him. I smelled tuba and bad breath as he spoke to my ears, “Ayaw saba, bai. Duol ra diri sa isla, puniton ra nimo sa mabaw nga sapa.”
Magellan, Gines, Andres, and Pigafetta, all leaned closer to me, as I muttered in a hushed voice that they could find gold in a creek on the other side of the island. The captain then turned to them, saying something in Spanish – which to me sounded like they were planning to go there the next morning. I turned to look at the smiling, drunken Samar chief who was watching us, lifting a cup of tuba and challenging the group to another round. “Dali ra ninyo makit-an mga bulawan diri. Sige, padayon pa ta inom!” he laughed.
I followed Magellan’s men on a small trail the following morning to the south end of the island and found the small creek, spending the whole day watching them scoop up the sand and small pebbles on kitchen plates, looking for gold nuggets. They found some small and big nuggets of gold by sundown, leaving some of them screaming with delight, but they turned all of the big nuggets to Magellan who reminded them they were all for the King of Spain.
Word spread around the island fast that many of the crewmen and soldiers from the three ships who were resting on makeshift shelters on the shore scampered to the gold-laden creek the following day. So instead of just four days at Homonhon island, it took eight days rest on this island paradise before Magellan decided it was time to go.
All the crewmen and soldiers of the three ships looked well, strong, and healthy after more than a week replenishing our food supply and making many friends among the Samar natives led by Rajah Duha Sawa. So much fruits, vegetables, and meat finally revitalized Magellan’s men for the next stage of our long voyage to the Spice Island in the Moluccas.
MARCH 25, 1521
Pigafetta noted down the date March 25, 1521 on his journal as the Trinidad and the two other ships, Victoria and Concepcion, lifted anchors and began to set sail southwest from Homonhon toward the hazy blue land mass of Leyte Island. Nearing the coast within sight of coconut trees in the distance, Magellan’s three ships followed the coastline going south towards the tip of Panaon, Leyte. Strong winds from the northeast monsoon began stirring up huge waves and blowing the tout sails of the three ships, forcing the ship pilot Andres to steer the Trinidad away from the rocky coasts of nearby islets, so dangerously close that Magellan ordered the crew to tie down the sails of the main masts to slow down and keep the ship on a straight southward course, avoiding the coastline.
Seeing the low land mass of Dinagat island on the ships’s left and the rising land mass of Surigao ahead of them, Andres pointed out to Magellan, “That’s the best place to shelter our ship from this storm. “Ese muy bueno para nuestro barco!” he yelled above the din of the roaring waves splashing on the ship’s bow.
Magellan wiped sea water from his face, nodding, “Si, sí, Andres! Bueno, muy bueno salvemos nuestro barco!”
First mate Gines, dripping wet all over, butted in, “Tienes una isla buena cerca,” pointing to an island near the tip of Panaon, saying the island was nearer to seek shelter from the storm.
Andres shook his head, scattering drips of water, insisting he already saw it on telescope with Magellan and found the island coast too rocky and too deep for the three ships to drop anchors. “Muy peligrosso para nuestro barco!” he yelled above the roaring noise of heavy rain and angry waves pounding against the ship.
Hearing that argument over that small island near Leyte, I remembered Rajah Duha Sawa telling us about another chieftain who lived on that rocky island who called himself “Limasawa” because he had five wives and the Samar chief had only two wives – letting out a loud guffaw, that he spat out all the food he was chewing in his mouth. But I didn’t have the heart to tell Magellan or Pigafetta about that rocky island of Limasawa as our ship was heading southward, sailing close to the coastline of Surigao.
MARCH 27, 1521
As the storm waves smashed against the sides and bow of our ship Trinidad, we saw tiny flickers of orange firelight through the darkness. Andres saw them first and pointed them out to Magellan, standing beside him. “Esto fuego, capitan?”
Magellan pulled out the telescope, trying to stand steady and still on the rocking ship. Wiping his wet face, Magellan broke into a smile as he peeked into the telescope in the darkness ahead. “Sí, sí, siete fuegos, cerca la tierra!” the captain said as he shared the telescope with Pigafetta who nodded, “Sí, sí, siete fuegos.”
Leaning against the ship’s barristers near the pilot’s deck, I squinted my eyes into the darkness across the angry sea and saw the tiny flecks of orange light. “Sí, sí, capitan, cerca la tierra los fuegos,” agreeing with him. We were nearing land.
We all knew that as the fleet of Magellan’s three ships were taking shelter from the raging storm by hugging closely the coastline of northeastern Surigao, we were sailing closer and closer towards the coastline of Agusan.
The storm grew weaker as dawn drew near, we could see the dark land mass to our left as the three ships cut through the rough waves and sizzling sea foam towards the seven flickers of light, looking like big bonfires lit by the natives of that strange land.
MARCH 28, 1521
As the light of dawn turned the eastern sky from orange to yellow and gradually to blue, we saw clearly the seven big bonfires from our ships – great white and grey smoke billowing towards the sky. As the ship crewmen above us were busy rolling up the sails from the masts, Magellan ordered all the three ships to drop anchors. Gines de Mafra pointed out to the captain what looked like a long large wooden boat with colored awnings of mats with intricate designs, flanked by two smaller boats with eight men each, half-naked natives holding spears.
Magellan fixed his long sword by his side and lifted his telescope. From afar, he could see some of the natives smiling, then waving and shouting something. I knew then these were friendly natives welcoming our arrival.
“Nosotros bienvenida? Enrique?” The captain was suddenly tense and cautious, glaring at me.
“Sí, sí, capitan! Nosotros bienvenida!” I said, breaking into a grin and waving back at the natives on the boats.
As the three boats came nearer our ship Trinidad, several of the natives, including the one in elaborate dress, stood up to wave at all the crewmen lining on the ship’s sides. Suddenly there were loud yelling and clapping from the three ships, prompting Gines, Andres, Pigafetta, and the captain to break into laughter. Waving back, we all knew this would be the place where we could rest longer, heal the sick, and gather more food provisions for our next voyage.
Looking at the big boat with the colorful awning with the natives still waving and shouting to us in their native tongue, I sensed that many words sounded very familiar to me.
“Tana! Nangimbita me sa iyo tanan sa amo fiesta! Ipa-ilaila ta mo sa amoang duha ka hari! Si Siago ug si Colambu!”
Magellan, Pigafetta, and the other ship mates were all looking at me, frowning and waiting for my translation, all anxious to know what they were saying.
So I told them we were all invited to their festival by their two kings, Siago and Colambu. “Nosotros invitamos en la fiesta!”
“Todo nosotros, todo tres barcos?” Pigafetta wanted to be sure we were all invited, all from the three ships.
But Magellan was a bit cautious and wanted Pigafetta and me to go first and check out the festival and report to him later. “Ambos deberían ir primero! Y tu, Antonio? Enrique? Sí?”
Pigafetta broke into a wide grin, trying to hide his excitement as the captain pointed to him and me to translate for the ship’s writer who had been writing down every detail of the entire Magellan’s voyage. Over the ship’s railings, Magellan bent over to look at the tribal chief, Rajah Siago who was dressed in his finest garment, bedecked with gold jewelry. Turning to me, he asked me to tell the rajah that he would be happy if two of his men – me and Pigafetta—go with them first, to be followed later by Magellan and officers of the three Spanish ships.
Looking down at their big wooden boat they called “balangay,” I relayed the message of Magellan to the tribal chief. “Duha lang sa mo uban sa inyohang fiesta, ako ra ug amoang manunulat si Pigafetta, puede ra?’
The tribal chief and all the natives on the boat broke into laughter and clapped. “Oooy! Kabalo mo bisaya ni! Bisaya ka, bai?” Like them, I was so happy, too, that we understood each other, telling them I was born in Cebu with a father from the Moluccas. “Bisdak jud, bai! Puede ra meng duha mauna diha ?”
“Ang kapitan diay? Imbitado mong tanan! Para bibo!”
“Mosunod silang tanan ugma, puede ra?”
Since they were all in a festive mood, I was sure they understood that I and Pigafetta would go first with them to their village, to be followed the next day by Magellan and the rest of the crew from the three ships.
Soon, Pigafetta and I found ourselves seated comfortably as the first two guests of an island king in all his finery seated on a throne-like high chair in his balangay boat under the colorful awning that protected him from the heat of the sun. It was mid-morning, already steaming hot, as the long balangay boat followed by the two “boloto” boats reached the shores of Mazzaua island, which was later known as Masao, flanked by two rivers on both sides. Large billows of grey smoke rose above several big bonfires of chopped wood and dried coconut leaves into the clear blue sky. Stepping ashore, we were met by smiling natives as well as hordes of hostile barking dogs. The tribal king Siago laughed and shooed away the dogs with a stick, followed by a native who herded the dogs, goats, pigs, and chickens from the shore, back to the nearby village.
Amidst the billowing bonfire smoke shrouding Masao, king Siago led us to one of their palaces of nipa, bamboo, and big tree trunks supporting two to three decks of high floorings that looked like regal assembly places for the king. As the king invited us to their dining area on the third floor, Pigafetta had a hard time breathing while climbing up the steps of hewn lumber, almost reaching the sky.
I asked the king, almost out of breath, why the floorings were two high from the ground. “Ngano paskang taasa jud ning balay? Gihangag me”
The king laughed so hard he almost fell from the stairs. “Pasaylo-a lang me, pero grabe man gud ang baha dinhi sa Masao. Duol ra me kaayo sa duha ka sapa.” As we reached the top of the stairs, he pointed to me the two rivers on the flanks of the hilly island of Masao where we were. Those two rivers, he told me, come from only one big mighty river, the Agusan river which splits into two because of this island in the middle. After days of heavy rains, flood waters, he said, could reach up to the first floor of the big tall house and everything left on the ground is all washed away.
EVEN WITH only the two of us, Pigafetta and I from the three Spanish ships anchored offshore, Rajah Siago treated us like royal guests, ordering a whole, newly roasted pig they called lechon which native cooks chopped into small pieces on banana leaves on the bamboo floor where everyone squatted or knelt to eat with their hands. Steamed rice on white china plates and varieties of fruits were piled up on the low table – ripe papayas, bananas, mangoes, green coconuts, and most of all, that strong fermented sap from nipa palm they called “tuba” similar to the one we tasted on the island of Homonhon a week ago. It was sweet, sour and bitter but so tasty as Spanish wine I didn’t know there was so much kick in it that left me so drunk I had a hard time translating some of Pigafetta’s Spanish talk into Bisayan to the tribal king who seemed not to mind as he tried to talk with finger and hand signals. Gulping down cup after cup of tuba and chewing lechon bit after bit, I saw Pigafetta nodding to the king’s finger signs like he understood what he was talking about. I saw how hungry and drunk our ship writer was, munching big chunks of hot lechon dipped in spicy vinegar, gulping them down with tuba, laughing and confessing that he was a devoted Catholic in Spain and found himself eating pork on Good Friday.
When I stood and rushed to urinate on the far side of the dining hall, the tribal king followed after me, laughing as he stood there, also urinating and shaking his head. “Gi-atay. Wala jud ko kasabot sa imohang kauban sige’g estorya Espanyol!” I told him I was too drunk to translate for him but promised to make up for it when Magellan and the ships’ officers would come the following day.
After a long pause, he asked “Moanhi ba jud imong kapitan ugma?”
I assured the tribal king that Magellan was coming. They had to do it the following day because he had to gather special gifts for his village and was planning something big and special for the festival. This friendship, I told Siago, was something very, very special and meaningful to the captain who cherished all the friendships he made during his long voyage searching for a better route to the Spice Islands.
MARCH 29, 1521
EARLY IN the morning of March 29, Ferdinand Magellan with all his ship officers and mates waded on the grey shores of Masao delta island, followwed by almost all of the officers, soldiers, and crewmen of the three Spanish ships anchored near the shore. I watched them wade ashore from their rowboats led by captain Magellan, chief pilot Andres de San Martin, first mate Gines de Mafra, ship chaplain Fr. Pedro de Valderrama flanked by Spanish soldiers in shiny helmets, armors, swords, and muskets as well as several crewmen carrying big bundles of gifts from Spain.
Garbed in their finest royal garments and gold jewelries, two tribal kings stood at the shore to meet them—Rajah Saigo, the king of Masao and his brother Rajah Colambu, the king of Butuan, both Manobo tribal chiefs of Surigao and Agusan. Pigafetta introduced the two Manobo kings formally to Magellan who was so impressed and touched by their royal welcome, he ordered the crewmen to bring the big bundles full of gifts “from the King of Spain” to present to them, expressing his feelings in official Spanish protocol, I had a hard time translating them to Bisayan language.
“Dako daw kaayo iyahang pasasalamat sa inyoha kay maayo daw kaayo inyohang pagtagad sa iyaha, sa amoa, sa among tanan!” was all I was able to translate back to the two smiling tribal kings. Rajah Colambu who came in his finest royal garments and gold jewelries impressed and touched Pigafetta so much, he described him in his journal as “the handsomest man he ever saw” among nations he visited, writing that “he has very black hair, coming down to his shoulders, with silk on his head and two large gold rings hanging from his ears. At his side, he wore a dagger with a large dagger made of gold. He was king of both Calagan and Butuan.”
TO SEAL THE new friendship between Magellan and the two tribal kings Colambu and Saigo, the captain wanted to have a “blood compact” to seal the friendships between them. Both kings liked the idea and suggested they do it before their formal luncheon ceremony on the third level of their royal house. Everyone watched the captain and the two kings as they prepared and cleaned the sharp knives before slashing their hands and allowed the blood to pour into cups before lifting the cups to their mouths and drank their blood together. The big groups of natives and foreign crewmen and officers surrounding the ceremony all cheered and clapped when Magellan and the two kings shook hands and embraced.
After the blood compact, one of the several helpers of King Saigo who gave his name as Migo, turned to me and asked why the captain and the two kings had to shed blood and drink it just to be friends. “Ngano samaran pa man ilahang mga kamot para imnon ang dugo?” Migo asked, showing his red teeth from chewing mamaon, a palm nut.
I cannot understand the meaning either, so I just told Migo, half-guessing, that it was for friendship – to make it last. “Lahi man gud sa mga Espanyol, gusto jud nila imnon ang ilahan dugo para dugay maka amigohay,” I said in a low voice, trying not to laugh.
“Dili diay puede maglamanohay na lang sila, ug magkagusay?” he smirked, tightening the black turban around his head
With a big smile, showing my white teeth, I explained to him patiently that for Spaniards, shaking hands and hugging were not enough to seal a lasting friendship between countries.
MARCH 30, 1521
Preparations were underway for the next day’s Christian mass near the Masao shore – building of a small stage made of bamboo platform, rehearsals for tribal dances by pretty women of the two tribal kings of Butuan and Masao, as well as practice sessions of sword fighting by Spanish soldiers of the Magellan fleet of three ships. Hundreds of Masao rice farmers were also out harvesting rice from the golden yellow rice fields near the swamps.
Walking on trails across the forested hills, were several crewmen from the ships led by Gines de Mafra, following natives trekking deep into the forest to cut down a tree to make a big cross for the Mass and look around for the highest point to plant the cross. This was part of Magellan’s plan to “Christianize” this island he “discovered” for King Phillip of Spain.
When Migo brought me and Pigafetta to see the rice harvest on the western side of Masao, I was surprised to see just how big and wide the rice fields were, with so many natives harvesting the rice grains. Showing us how they cut the rice stalks, Migo explained this was the reason why they have the festival at Masao, a thanksgiving festival for the god of the forest, god of the river, god of the mountains, god of the rice fields, etc. Looking at the blue sky, Migo muttered, “Dako jud amoang pasasalamat at amoang mga dyos, kay naglambo jud kami diri sa Masao.”
We watched the natives harvest the rice, cutting the stalks with crude knives, wondering whether there would be enough rice for the festival, feeding hundreds from the village and the crew from the three ships. Migo complained they need more people to help them harvest the rice and suggested if we could get some crewmen from the ships to help them in the harvest.
“Kalit man gud nadaghan mga bisita namo karon, basin mahugdan ta’g bugas. Basin puede mo makatabang?” he was already pleading. I relayed that to Pigafetta, who assured him we would take it up with Magellan.
MARCH 31, 1521
GARBED IN their Sunday best garments to greet Easter Sunday, Magellan, followed by his top officers, first mates and soldiers arrived in several rowboats, mingling with hundreds of natives welcoming them on the shores of Masao. Dressed in their finest, the two brother kings, Saigo and Colambu greeted Magellan and his men, all smiling, laughing, patting and hugging, as they began gathering in front of the makeshift bamboo stage and altar. Father Pedro Valderrama in his priestly white gown stood in front of the altar table with an open Bible and small statue of the baby Jesus. Beside the altar were the gold yellow flag of Spain and a large wooden cross behind, guarded by two Spanish soldiers in vest armor and shiny helmets, gripping their swords beside their bloomers.
Father Valderrama opened and read the Bible to all in Latin before delivering a short sermon in Spanish. To Migo seated beside me below the stage, I tried to translate to him, in Bisaya, what the priest was saying: “To be a Christian, one has to believe in Christ, the only one true God of the trees, of the forests, of the rivers, of the seas and mountains. You don’t have to worship too many gods to please them all. There’s only one God to please, to worship, to be a true Christian.”
Migo was wide-eyed, looking at me. “Usa ra diay ang dyos?”
“Usa ra jud, bai. Para madawat ka sa Dyos, madawat ka sa langit, maayo jud magpa- baptismo ka diri karon mismo kay Father Valderrama.”
Migo probably saw the light to what I told him that he rushed away to his fellow tribes gathered beside the stage, repeating to them what I just told him. I recalled Magellan before the voyage began in Spain, saying that he wanted to convert the island natives to Christians and baptizing them. I thought maybe this might just be the moment for all this to happen. That moment came later when the two kings Rajah Saigo and Rajah Colambu, with bowed heads, walked up to the stage, led by Magellan and stood before the Spanish priest to be baptized.
Later, one by one, several Masao natives raised their hands to be baptized, with Pigafetta and I gingerly leading them all onstage to Father Valderrama for prayer, benediction, and pouring of the holy water.
Anchored in the distance, the three Spanish ships fired several volleys of their cannons, their loud boom reverberating in the clear blue skies of Masao, impressing the natives of the pomp and pageantry of the first Mass ever held on the islands – that would later be called the Philippines.
After the seaside Mass, the crowd of Masao natives led by the two brother kings, gathered around a large open area beside the beach to watch a series of tournaments and exhibitions by Spanish soldiers – the firing of muskets at distant targets and fencing exhibitions between soldiers. Several native warriors of the two kings also displayed their skills in throwing spears and shooting arrows at imaginary targets while riding on fast horses. Watching from the sidelines were Magellan seated on a makeshift wooden bleacher with Rajah Saigo and Rajah Colambu, both newly baptized as Christians, all cheering and clapping at the performers and contestants of various exhibitions and tournaments held after celebrating the First Mass.
Later in the afternoon of that memorable Easter Sunday, I saw some natives and crewmen carrying the large cross, making their way through cogon grass on their way to the highest peak of the highest hill overlooking the sea. Magellan and Father Valderrama watched them from Masao beach as they arrived at the peak and planted the cross. Both dropped to their knees on the beach, murmured their prayers and made a sign of the cross.
APRIL 1, 1521
THE DAY AFTER Easter Sunday was supposed to be our last day at Masao as Magellan ordered the crew of the three ships to spend the whole day gathering more food provisions for our next voyage to Zubu, or Cebu island, northwest from where we were. They were all ordered to buy and trade with the natives at the marketplace, or “bagsakan,” beside the river where all kinds of vegetables, fruits, fish, poultry, pigs, goats, were delivered from far-away villages by bancas or small canoes with outriggers—all with the help of Rajah Saigo.
But Magellan had a hard time convincing Saigo that we were leaving that night for Cebu island and needed plenty of food supply. “Habla tu elle, ora noche el viaje por Zubu,” the ship captain nudged me to tell him.
Saigo was busy talking to market vendors about our needs and quantities, but I butted in, “Plano sa kapitan mohawa na daw me karon gabii padulong sa Cebu.”
But Saigo insisted, “Kulang ang bugas, Enrique. Dili jud me kaapas kay kulang among tao didto sa humayan.”
After telling Magellan the food provisions might not be enough if we leave that night for Cebu, the captain suddenly looked worried. “No puede larga ora noche?”
Slowly, I shook my head. “Muy poko probisyon,” adding that Saigo needed to harvest more rice to meet our needs on our next voyage. But Magellan wanted to know how long. “Cuantos días esperar?” I passed that on to Siago. “Pila daw ka adlaw hulat?”
The Rajah showed us two fingers, promising he would accompany us to Cebu after two days’ wait to allow him to harvest more rice. “Uban ko ninyo. Ila-ila tamo sa duha ka hari didto.” he said, lightening up Magellan’s face after I told him Saigo himself would introduce him to the two kings there, Humabon of Cebu and Lapu-lapu of nearby Mactan island.
The captain was so happy to hear this that he uttered “Estupendo! Bien bueno! Juntos espera dos dias!” before walking back to talk to the ship mates and crew waiting on Masao beach. Some of the crewmen were already hauling large baskets and bundles of food supply to the three ships.
But the tribal king was restless as he trailed Magellan to the edge of the shore, talking to Mafra, Gines, and Pigafetta about the two days they had to wait in Masao for the rice harvest to finish. Rajah Saigo turned to me to tell the captain if he could lend some of the crewmen to help in the rice harvest. “Ingna ra gud kung puede sya pahulam mga tao nya motabang sa palayan, para mapaspasan ang trabaho didto?” I passed on to the captain the plea of the tribal king to help harvest more rice in the field, get the work done much faster. Seeing the urgency, Magellan ordered eight crewmen to help the natives harvest rice from the fields, hoping that would hasten the journey to Cebu.
Finally in the early morning of April 4, 1521, the three Spanish ships, Trinidad, Victoria, and Concepcion began pulling up anchors, opening all their sailing masts and began the next voyage, leaving Masao behind on their way to Cebu.
I stood on the pilot’s deck with Pigafetta as we watched our ship Trinidad sailing away from Masao, leaving beautiful memories behind. From the deck railings, I could see the big, long colorful balangay boat of Rajah Saigo at our left flank, its sail wide open, winds driving the boat forward and natives waving at us.
While waving back at them, I was thinking what lies ahead of us in Cebu. I was wondering if the two kings in Cebu and Mactan would be as friendly to Magellan as the two kings in Masao.
Far atop a hill, we could see the big cross. I was waiting for my master captain Magellan to come out of his cabin to look at the cross on top of that Masao hill.
But he didn’t.
