Laji and Palo-palo

Laji: An Ivatan Sung Tradition

Description:

        Ivatan oral tradition is divided into general types according to the manner of their delivery: (1) the non-sung, and (2) the sung tradition.
        To the non-sung tradition belong: (a) kabbuñi (riddles), (b) pananahan (proverb lore), (c) kabbata (legends), (d) istorya (tales), and (e) sisyavak (humorous anecdotes, jokes and tall tales).
        The sung tradition belong the (a) kalusan (working songs), (b) laji (lyric folk songs), and the (c) kanta (song) of recent beginnings regarded by Ivatans as not indigenous.
        Because there is no indigenous collective name for the Ivatan folk song traditions, the term “sung tradition” was coined as a general name for the kalusan, laji, and kanta, to distinguish them from the “non-sung tradition.” Except the kanta, the kalusan and the lajiare probably of pre-Hispanic origin. There are internal and external evidences that these were in flower during the Spanish era, and may have had their origins in pre-Hispanic times. While the kanta can be sung by a lone singer for his personal entertainment, with or without the accompaniment of a guitar or banduria, the kalusan and the lajiare always sung in a social context: the kalusan, because it is always by a group of workers; and the laji, because it is always sung by a singer addressing himself/herself to others really present before him/her.

Form

     The laji form is considered by the Ivatans as the best of their folk songs and folk poetry (Hornedo 1979, 230). Generally, laji is maintained by “carriers” of the tradition who are, on the average, about seventy years old. In Hornedo’s 1979 study, the youngest carrier was born in 1929, the oldest in 1891 (Hornedo 1979, 233). These are special people renowned as singers of the laji.
     The laji form reached a very high level of sophistication with the Ivatans. A style of communication which relies on mysterious or veiled significances is characteristic of the Ivatans in general, and this idiosyncrasy of the people found an extremely receptive and fertile medium in the laji.

Content

     Topic and theme constitute content. The first refers to concrete subjects; the second, to the abstract subjects.
     Classified according to topical relationships (concrete subjects), the laji may be divided into ten: (1) love and marriage-related songs, (2) songs of social protest, self-pity, self-effacement, and pleas for help, (3) songs in praise of certain persons, (4) wisdom songs, (5) social songs of general import: sentimental, thank you, and good-bye pieces, (6) songs about death and mourning, (7) ritual songs, (8) jestings songs, (9) drinking songs, and (10) religious songs.
     A survey of the songs of general import, death songs, and the ‘ritual’ songs reveal a variety of themes (abstract subjects) most of which are along the same lines as those already seen in the larger groups. They speak of love, humility in the presence of the great; of the pain of separation from members of one’s family; of the value of wealth and the misfortune of poverty; of the evilness of wishing evil to befall others; and of the desirability of discovering the source or cause of good fortune; They also speak of death as hopeless misfortune;. The “ritual” songs seem to say that man’s relations either with the supernatural and preternatural, or with this fellowmen should be expressed concretely in symbols of ritual and offerings in kind.

LIPUS KO AM PANAHANEN KO AVA DU PAYHUDHURAN
Lipus ko am panahanen ko ava du payhudhuran
ta riyalen nu araw, ta riyalen nu araw.
Lipus ko am panahanen ko ava du payhusungan
ta anchian panalasalan nu vuhung nu kayu.
Lipus ko am panahanen ko du kamadirian a takey
ta su tawri ko ahahawen a yanan nu inavungan na,
a kabuwan nu sumalisalid siya a di a vuken a yaken.

Informant: Marta Adri Vaso

I DON’T MAKE MY RELATIVE PASS ON THE RIDGE OF THE HILL
I don’t make my relative pass on the ridge of the hill
because there the sun is too hot.
I don’t make my relative pass through the ravine
lest a leaf fall upon her.
I make her walk on the hillside away from the sun
where I think there is ample shade,
where no one can touch her other than me

NU NUNUK DU TUKUN
Nu nunuk du tukun, minuhung as kadisi na;
ichapungpung diya am vaken u nilawngan na.
Kapaytalamaran ava su avang di idaud
ta miyan du inayebgan na, ta miyan du inayebngan na.
Nu itañis ko am nu didiwen ko
ta nu taw aya u suminbang diyaken,
nu maliliyak a pahung as maheheyet a riyes
u minahay niya diyaken.

Informant: Catalina Faronilo Hontomin

THE NUNUK ON THE HILL
The nunuk on the hill shot forth new leaves and twigs;
then suddenly all its branches fell, and I under it.
On what is left I cannot watch boats on the sea.
I weep in my grief;
It was the sea that made me an orphan;
the sad news came to me in the roar of the breakers,
from the voice of the mighty sea currents.

PINAKUYAKUYAYAP AKUY’ NI AMA KO

Pinakuyakuyayap akuy’ ni ama ko,
as pinakuyakuyayap akuy’ ni loyna ko
du daid nu Iraya a mangay a manipanita
su alimanaganen ko a duyuhus nu vaheng,
nu vaheng a kuhasi am di aku a makadali
as pirwa ko a mayvidi a mangay a mañiluchilup
su hutab du dimsimana dimakadakuhi
ta mapakaiñin su vufdek nu akma diyaken
a maypaduvu pa a minhaep a masbang,
masang du ama as kadu ina.

Informant: Nicolasa Montes Villeza

MY FATHER SENT ME UP

My father sent me up,
my mother sent me up
to the foot of Mount Iraya to look
for my food—the tops of the black,
the black kuhasi, but I search in vain,
so I turn back to go and feed
on the sea froth on the shore, of which one cannot take much
for it causes stomach pains for one like me
who am still too young but already orphaned,
orphaned of my father and of my mother.