A atory to share with your students

The Tambuli

Alvaro L. Martinez

Nanoy sat one of the big boulders on the hillside overlooking extensive rice fields below. To hi ears came the sound of tambuli, long and mellow. Three times it sounded and he knew that it was Kuyang Endong who was blowing the horn, calling back the carabao and cattle from beyond the creek.

How he longed to have a horn which he could call his own – one which he could carry along with him and show to his friends and playmates! He had long dreamed of having one which he could blow as much as he wished. But his father had time again said that was too young to own a tambuli. To hill people, the tambuli was a precious piece of property. They used it for gathering their domestic animals together, and, on stormy nights, in locating a lost or belated member of the family.

He recalled the day when he received a severe scolding and spanking from his father on account of tambuli. He had sneaked into his father’s bedroom and, placing a chair near the wall and standing tiptoe on it, he reached for the tambuli which was hanging from a bamboo peg. He had carefully taken it down, and out of the house, and once in the field, began blowing it with all his might. The sound which he produced scared the carabaos and caused them to run away instead of gathering together. His father, coming home from the cockfight, caught him unaware, and putting him over his knee, beat him till he shouted for mercy. He was given a long sermon and made to promise not to touch the tambuli again.

But Nanoy was not daunted by this. So strong was the fascination of the tambuli over him that the spankings and the warning did not deter him from learning how to blow it properly. He continued to his father’s room and get the tambuli from its hanging place. He would sit for hours softly blowing it. Patience brought him his reward, foe he soon found himself capable of producing the desired sounds. But this made him long all the more for tambuli which he could claim as his own.

The shrill voice of his mother stirred him from his silent reverie and sent him scampering down the narrow path. He found his mother standing at the head of the stairs, shading her eyes with her hand.

“Where have you been, Nanoy?” She greeted him. “I have been calling for you a long time.”

“I was just down there, Inay,” Nanoy replied with downcast eyes.

“Run down to Dikong Juan’s house.” You are wanted there. They have killed a cow and Dikong Juan wants you to help in skinning it,” came his mother’s command.

Nanoy’s face lighted up with a smile. There was a twinkle in his eyes. a cow. A sudden thought entered his mind, which made him happy. Away he went, his legs carrying him at top speed, while his heart beat in wild expectations. He found the house in great excitement. Everyone was busy. In the yard lay the cow with its throat cut.

“Get the sharp kampilan from the batalan,” commanded his Dikong. With what ease and willingness Nanoy did all the work, for his father was a believer in the need of preparing children for the struggle for existence in early life. How skilfully helped remove the hide! How adept he was I cutting! His hands were guided by the great purpose brewing in his mind.

At last the work was ended. The beef had been distributed among the different members of the family. The things which had been used were cleansed, and the space where they had worked was cleared of refuse. Nanoy blushed and fumbled with his clothes. But his eyes were set on the pairs of horns which hung dangling from the beam of the shed in front of the house. His Dikong divined his thoughts and patted him on the back, smiling.

“So you want one of those horns, eh?” his Dikong said, looking at him in the face.

Nanoy nodded.

“Go and get it then,” Dikong Juan said.

Nanoy  did nt wait for a second command. He was off, and in a moment was standing on the bamboo bench beneath the shed where the horns hung. He looked them over and after much hesitation made his choice. Jubilant he ran home after thanking his Dikong, and went to fetch his sharp knife and his father’s chisel. He knew where the chisel was hidden, and did not meet with any difficulty in obtaining it.

“Where did you get this tambuli?” asked his mother. “How many times must ypu be told not to play with this?”

“I made it, Inay,” answered nanoy timidly.

“Go upstairs and stay there. You will ear from your father when he comes home,” she said.

“But Inay, I did not….” protested Nanoy.

“Shut up and do as I tell you,” interrupted his mother.

Nanoy was very sad after that. His sorrow heightened when he saw his precious tambuli handed to tandang sora as present. How he wanted to burst out in protest; but caution got the better of him, and he kept quiet. He became secretive and often wore a guilty look.

“I wonder what the child is up to now,” his mother once remarked.

But no amount of spying or scolding could make Nanoy come out into the open. He became still more mysterious in his actions.

One night a sudden storm descended over the hills. The farmers, including Nanoy’s father, were all out in the fields, belated by a season’s heavy work. It became so dark that it was impossible for them to find their way home without a light or sound of a tambuli to guide them.

The women’s lamp were blown out as fast as they were out infront of the windows.

“ A tambuli…..A tambuli……” was everyone’s  cry.

But who had a tambuli? The farmers had taken their tambulis with them and none were left in the little settlement.

Nanoy sat at the head of the stairs staring into the darkness before him. His thoughts was of his father who was out in the storm. His mother sat beside him, his thoughts in line with his.

“Nanoy,” she said, misgivings in her voice, “how I wish you had your tambuli tonight.”

“if I had, Inay, would you let me blew it?” asked Nanoy peering into her face.

“it would help your Itay find his way home,” she replied.

“would you take my tambuli again, if I had one Inay?” he asked.

She shook her head. Nanoy stood up abruptly and was gone. After a while he came back and stood beside her mother. A long, mellow sound issued forth from the tambuli eagerly pressed to his lips.then came another, longer and louder. From the distance came the reply. On and on, again and again, Nanoy blew his tambuli, each timeto be answered by his father. The sound of the tambuli from the field came nearer and nearer.

“My son, you have done well this night,” said his father, clasping Nanoy in his arms.

Nanoy said nothing, but held his tambuli, made of the butchered cow’s other horn,closer to his breast.