LIWAYWAY – Bakunawa | When Darkness Meant Silence

Isinulat ni Jona Trisha Tarampi at Aldred Tamondong

When a tremor strikes the land, a roaring force of wind blows, and the sky turns into complete darkness, it only means one thing: the Bakunawa is awake.

They say that an enormous, wicked serpent dwells beneath our waters. When awakened, it unleashes terror on the land. Others insist that it was a dragon, imbued with wings that lift its scaly body into the celestial canopy. The tale shifts its skin from generations and regions, but every mouth utters one common truth—the creature they call the Bakunawa is a devourer of light.

In the old stories, the Bakunawa would rise from its lair to seize the remaining moon, the only one left from the seven that the Bathala endowed to its people. When the moon grows fuller, too radiant, and too… tempting, it would fly up into the sky and open its colossal jaws in an attempt to swallow the moon whole. The world is engulfed in absolute darkness. The earth and the ocean trembled. The people… anguished… but resilient. Desperate, they bring their pots and pans out, an accompaniment to their deafening outcry. Their noise, it is believed, is what frightened the Bakunawa into spitting the moon back, dented but still glowing.

That is the story that has been passed down to us. The one we all chose to remember. But stories are profound, and perhaps a message that we needed to decipher. Perhaps, a horrifying reality we are living in, a prophecy sewn from the old times.

Look around. Does it feel familiar? The raging clouds, the ground shaking, the sharp hiss that blows the grass and the trees away. It’s wreaking havoc everywhere, but it’s not visible to the eye. Where is it? Perhaps the Bakunawa never went back to the seas; it learned to walk among us. 

Recall the story. Every version that you know. Each one tells a different reason for the Bakunawa’s hunger: envy for the moon’s beauty, greed for its own illumination. Between gluttony and desire lies the fragile heart of the monster. Maybe it was not different from us at all. We, too, are hungry for light—power, wealth, and beauty. We, too, get blinded, blurring the line of affection and possession. We, too, are fools—fools who never get just enough. We are both evil, not just because we desire light; we are evil because we take what is meant to be shared.

Look around. Have you seen it yet? Don’t search the deep sea; it is above us. Deeply seated in the comfort of power. With its modern skin, clad in luxurious jewels and woven silk. It does not shake the ground; it sips its coffee in an air-conditioned room. It does not stir the waves; it signs papers, builds structures, and names it after itself. It does not roar, it speaks softly. It lulls you with progress, care, and justice, while secretly devouring what little light remains. Maybe changing skin also requires a change in appetite. It learned that the brightest thing to consume is no longer the moon, but our future.

But just like in the erstwhile tales of our ancestors, the Bakunawa is not always indomitable. Beyond its trenchant teeth and impenetrable scales, the beast has a weakness. No, it is not a superpower yielded by a deity living in the heart of the forest. No, it is not a battalion that boasts thousands of armed warriors brave enough to defy the enormous creature. 

Our forefathers managed to repel the Bakunawa because they stood firm and howled clamorously to frighten the serpent away. Their size might be just a grain, tiny and harmless in the Bakunawa’s eyes, but their voices formed a titan whose build is much larger, louder, and more terrifying than the monster. In times like this, when the soul of the Bakunawa breaks down and hides in the human flesh, we must also invoke the abominable noise it fears to contend with.

Look around. Are our miseries still not enough to halt our mouths from keeping quiet? Every night seems like the Bakunawa is on its quest to devour the moon, making the source of light in danger of never surviving the eclipse, shuddering the ground, and destroying what is supposed to be protected—nature and our welfare. It’s spearing gust of wind that cuts the trees and prunes the mountains. Its flight that is fueled by our blind fanaticism and vulnerable trust—which consumes the wealth, service, and privilege that we should have—leads us to drown in the sea of torment and buries us in inescapable poverty.

Speak up. Call them out. Protest. The Bakunawas in human form are not fearful of stealing the moon away because they think they can easily claw the ones that try to bite their scales. But with our collective efforts to use our strength to expose, shame, and demand that these monsters be held accountable for their misdeeds, slowly, we scare them away. However, making mere noise will not be enough. Aside from our mouth that shouts for uprightness, we must also use our hands to point at the Bakunawas that should be liable, and wield our feet to go to the place where every courageous one meets to raise either their quills, swords, or voices.

We have already taken a step to take out their thrones and imprison them in the abyss, yet it is still a long way for us to claim the justice we dream of having. Our moon may be dented by the Bakunawa’s teeth, but its light still glows brightly enough to remind us that we are powerful enough to send the giant serpentine away back to its lair. 

With its recurring intention to steal what remains for us, people, the moon, will you allow this force of evil to conquer the power and take the light away, or be part of the force that will defeat the evil Bakunawa?