Fireflies

PINOY KASI

Fireflies
By Michael Tan

Inquirer
Last updated 03:14am (Mla time) 06/22/2007

MANILA, Philippines -- I was in Mindanao recently on a research assignment when, one night, a team member ran to us, inviting us to look at a tall pata tree (I haven’t been able to locate its botanical name) where we were treated to a natural ballet performance -- of fireflies.

The research team members, young and not-so-young, were all captivated. I realized, too, it had been a while since I had seen fireflies or, for that matter, dragonflies and other insects that used to be quite common -- all driven away by urban pollution and environmental degradation.

Why these lights? One explanation is that the lights are used to attract mates. Another theory is that they send out signals to potential predators, a way of saying, hey, we’ve got these lights, so keep away, we’re not that edible.

Beyond these cold biological explanations, fireflies have sparked the imagination of people everywhere. The English name “firefly” focuses on the insects’ rear light, but our Tagalog “alitaptap” seems to take a different focus. I wonder if the names in our region refer to the way the lights flicker: think “audibly” and you can imagine the fireflies: ali tap tap, ali tap tap. The Kapampangan name “alipatpat” has a similar quality. To the south, we get “aninipot” in Bikol languages and in Cebuano and Hiligaynon, but in Waray it is “bukatkat.”

The firefly has entered our folklore, with at least one folk tale circulating in the Internet. Supposedly the daughter of two gods, Alitaptap was born with a star on her forehead. When their kingdom was threatened with an invasion, Alitaptap’s father begged her to marry the son of their rival. Alitaptap refused and the enraged father struck her with a sword, sending the star on her forehead flying in the air and disintegrating into many small lights. The invasion apparently pushed through and Alitaptap’s homeland was ravaged. All that was left after the carnage were those flickering lights, the little alitaptap.

I haven’t been able to confirm if this rather gruesome story actually comes from one of our legends, but I did find several entries for fireflies in Damiana Eugenio’s “Philippine Folk Literature: The Riddles” (UP Press, 2005). Most of the riddles suggest a person carrying a light. For example, from Bulacan we have this riddle: “Eto na si Ingkong, may dalang dupong.” [Here’s Ingkong, carrying a light.”] When the riddle uses a woman, they become risqué. For example, this one from Bicol: “Naglayog si manay, nagsisiga an puday.” [“Sister flew, her vagina sparkling.”]

Other riddles describe persons or animals with gold in its anus. A quaint one: “Maliit pa si Tsikito, marunong nang manabako.” [Though still small, Tsikito knows how to smoke a cigar.”]

Firefly fireworks

The best riddles are the ones that truly baffle. This Waray riddle is succinctly complex: “Kanan kahuynon kalayo, diri nakakapaso.”] [“The fairy’s fire, it does not burn.”]

This Tagalog riddle challenges the mind: “Hindi ilaw, may liwanag; Hindi mata, kumikindat; Kung madilim, tumataas; kapag mapagod, lumalakad.” [“Not a lamp, it is bright. Not an eye, it winks. When it’s dark, it soars; when tired, it walks.”]

Now shouldn’t our quiz shows begin to feature such riddles and help reverse the dumbing down of the Filipino? But let’s not wait for the networks to do that; get a copy of Eugenio’s book and pick out a few riddles each week to tackle with the children. The anthology has more than a thousand pages, with enough riddles to last through the whole of childhood.

Another favorite of mine is in Ilocano: “Nagmulaak iti sili idiay sanga diay salamagi; nakaskasdaw, pari, ta nagbunga iti diya-mante” [“I planted chili pepper on the branch of the tamarind tree; it was surprising, friend, for it bore diamonds.”]

I’m baffled by the reference to chili pepper, but I like the way the riddle talks about how a tamarind tree yields diamonds. I got to wondering if perhaps fireflies are particularly attracted to tamarind trees. I suspect they probably do look for certain types of trees, preferably those that are quite tall, but perhaps also with other forms of attraction.

Trees along river banks seem to be particular favorites of fireflies, with several places in Southeast Asia drawing tourists because the fireflies actually synchronize their lighting, going on and off together. Now that’s another natural wonder to study, maybe, a form of male cooperation (it’s mainly the males who signal to the females).

When I directed an anthropological field school in Donsol, Sorsogon a few years back, residents told me the Donsol river often had spectacular firefly displays at night, but I was never able to get to see them. Donsol is where you have the “butanding” [whale shark], but it looks like they could develop night cruises down their river for the firefly “fireworks.”

‘Anting-anting’

Another reason why I like that Ilocano riddle is that it tells us something about popular culture. To have come up with that riddle, the Ilocanos -- and, I’m sure, many other cultures -- had to be quite observant of the fireflies and their habitats. Not only that, the riddle captures the way that natural phenomena thrilled onlookers.

A few weeks back, I was in Manila’s Quiapo district researching the assorted “anting-anting” [amulets] being sold near the church. There was a “lola” [grandmother] with whom I bonded almost immediately. I had picked up an item for her to identify and she had gone, in a deadpan voice, “Apdo ng sawa” [snake gall bladder], rattling off its many purported uses. Next was a bony item. Without batting an eyelash, she went, “Titi ng buwaya” [crocodile penis] and I think you can guess what uses that was for. We went on and on, and she was totally cooperative but in an almost mechanical way.

At one point I picked up a piece of wood with black striations. Lola’s face remained deadpan, but I could sense a slight difference in her facial demeanor. “A, suwerte ’yan” [“It brings luck”], she said, and then she explained what it was: “Kahoy ng dapdap, na dinapuan ng alitaptap.” I caught every word but almost wanted to beg her to repeat it, because it came through almost poetic. Note how an English translation “wood from the dapdap tree, touched by fireflies” sounds so terribly bland, but the visual imagery from the description still has its charm.

A tamarind tree yielding diamonds, or a dapdap tree with waltzing lights -- I can see why people are so touched, maybe wanting even to take a piece of the wood home as an amulet. I showed a piece of that wood to students in Ateneo de Manila University’s new medical school, my way of trying to trigger their imagination, open their minds to popular culture and what people do.

I’m asked all the time: do amulets work? And I say not in the sense that they have power on their own. The dapdap wood touched by fireflies has no efficacy of its own, but hearing the description sparks something in our minds, recreating a whole sensory experience that can be comforting.

If the fireflies, tiny fireflies, only knew how their mating rituals are given new meanings by human onlookers.