Filipino households have oversized spoons and forks on their walls as a holdover from olden times. The decor is on the kitchen wall to remind us of prosperity and hospitality. "You eat na!" is a phrase my godmother always said. In memory of her I'm sharing her paper, an oral history from her master's in cultural sociology from Ateneo de Manila.

At the beginning of time, there are three sizes of people. There are three regions in the archipelago, Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao, and we are always fighting-fighting. 

Firstly, giants (Homo gigantropicus) live in the north. They fight with clubs hewn from limbs of the last emperor trees. This race are descendants of Fallen Ones who take human women as wives. Their progeny marry and have children of their own, and their daughters are born with fingers the width of saplings, their sons born with boulder-sized heads. They reach seven meters high by adulthood. One day, the Great Father gazes upon these children, and becomes horrified at their proportions, because he prefers his own creatures. He unleashes a fury of rain, and for forty days and nights monsoon falls, so the Giants take their rafts and row to Lemuria.

Secondly, people like you and me (Homo sapiens) are here on the Visayan islands. We are children of Malakas and Maganda, the two who emerge from the split bamboo. They and their children spread over generations until today: now we make our homes on every atoll, islet, reef, and cay. We spread across continents. We are the diaspora.

 

We are known for our feasts. Chiefs cross the waters for our months-long celebrations. They sit in a circle to use their hands, kamayan-style, and share their bounty, their oodles and boodles of fortune.  Restaurants offer a meal known as "boodle fight" which is enjoyed communally on a table set with banana leaves and spread with rice. Meal-goers eat with their hands. Diners always enjoy-enjoy: they try scallops, and dip morsels of bangus into suka vinegar, and choose tender, succulent pieces of adobo chicken. First, drizzle the soy sauce over your own section. Then, create a ball of rice to feed your young ones. Finally, eat.

 

Sharing was, is, and continues to be a joyous occasion for our kin. It's how we celebrate special events like weddings and christenings.

 

Thirdly, miniature ones (Homo floresiensis) average three feet and are excellent archers. They originate from warmer climes in what is now Mindanao. They sprout silent as mushrooms from caves in the valley and walk on webbed feet. Floriensis' ears appear flat, and their skin darkens to black as they age. They are not often found today, but you might catch a glimpse of one crouching near secluded spring-water pools, using raffia baskets to sift their ube, or wash their kamote, or cassava. They prefer to live undisturbed, near quiet waters.

One evening, the Giant menfolk go hunting during the nesting period of the mouse-deer that lives in the upland jungle, as these make good eating. Giants stalk in pairs, and are surprised and overwhelmed by an organized band of tamawo. These creatures do not evolve with a philtrum, the area between the nose and mouth, so their faces appear awry. The males carry a flute, which they play when they wish to lure in unsuspecting prey. Their musicians' skill in playing melodies hypnotize all in hearing distance, after which they attack with their wicked blades, and bite with their sharpened forefangs. It is for this reason that you stick the tips of your index fingers into each ear when you hear a sound of flutes near the forest. 

The tamawo play their breathy tunes to bewitch the Giants. When the Giants stand still, blinking in confusion, the tamawo fell them with their yo-yos, then wrap them up and drag them away in nets, to butcher them with axes. They carry their juicy arm bones and thick thigh bones deep into their hideaways. They boil these pieces for their dinners, and dispose of the bones at the bottom of the waterfalls.

 

Do you know that yo-yos are weapons of antiquity? These balls are thrown for hitting, and fashioned with metal spikes, and we wrap them on abaca, to use them against our enemies. You must be careful when you play with yo-yos, in case you hurt someone. Put your yo-yo in your sack and loop it around your belt when you go into the jungle, Anak.

Back to our story, our Giantess is staying in her village. She is awaiting her mate, yet her mate never returns. Their tradition together is this: he picks a perfect red hibiscus from the forest's innermost heart. This, her most favorite, fragrant flower, she wears behind her left ear for one day, after which she places it in the cherished section of their altar. When the hibiscus from last time withers into dust, she understands her mate will never return.

 

Alone of the remaining Giantesses, many of whom die of grief, the rest of whom leave, or fade away into nothing, she decides to seek help. She walks south along the stream, past pillars and crumbling arches of ancient civilizations that lived there before. She clambers over boulders. She ducks under sodden cobweb tapestries strung across the Valley of Spiders. She takes refuge in a cave during the Night of Falling Stars. 

 

She watches the moon rise and fall... She trudges through hot and dry, wet and warm, through cool evenings, and burning mornings. She voyages to the lands of humans, here in what is then called Bool. One morning, she reaches the other side of our river, where she trades the gems on her necklace to a fisherman, who agrees to row her in his bangka to where the people live.

 

"Welcome," say our Elders, as they offer her a bathing-bucket. 

"You are welcome," say our Elders, as they give her clothes, as well as they are able to fashion.

She bows her head. She speaks words of thanks.

That night is Lunar Feast, where they invite her to join them, kamayan-style.  However, her oversized thumbs, her fingers–wide as logs– these make her movements so indelicate! She bumps and bruises her dinner companions. Her messy eating smashes the meal. When she creates a fish-and-rice ball to feed to the datu's youngest child, the toddler begins to cry.

 

And so, the next day, the Elders discuss, and they decide. They will create her one-of-a-kind utensils. First, they make a fork, a shaft with three prongs, based on tridents they witness on Maguayen's seaborne Guwardya nga Manggugubat, guardians of the ocean, who brandish weapons while riding their sea-horses.

 

Second, they create a spoon, based on mussel shells tied to sticks, like our neighbors. These people one day's walk down the shore pry away ruby-colored starfish from the bottom of the clear tidal pools. Even today they hunt for starfish in the shallows of the pools, but Anak, you must be careful! The spiky spines deliver poison. 

 

When our Elders present the Giantess with her very own spoon and fork, her heart fills with delight. From then on, she is welcome to eat at every meal. She stays as an honored guest.

She lives for five human generations, and word of her spreads to other islands: she contributes to end-of-monsoon tasks in Samal, and travels at planting-season to Sugbu, to drive the carabao plows. In Panay, she sinks poles on which lay the rafters for the longhouses. In Hiraite, she aligns the plateaus so the pooling water feeds the rice paddies.

 

She is beloved by all, especially by children, who bring her hibiscus. The Datu's son, and his son, and his daughter, give her honor and bless her memory for how she brings peace to the regions. The Giantess takes up living with a human, our ancestor, named Luzviminda, a combination of the first syllables of the islands: Luzon, Visayas, and Mindanao. The name shows our peoples remain unified. 

 

After the Giantess dies, all leave hibiscus flowers at her resting-place.  Today, we honor her by displaying the oversized fork and spoon. Guests see these on our wall and know they may enjoy a meal with us, and stay with us, for a while.