By Andrea D. Lim

for H


Our arms that shared the chilling language
of letting out before letting go lock our present selves
to the presses of each other’s heads onto our chests
minutes after midnight in front of a studio room mirror, under
the dim yellow light. This is a forgiving Sunday hour
for faint shadows shaping the human only late encounters
can trace away.


I am the first to dare gaze at the ground where
the edge of our conflicting want, the feet attest, has the feel of crossroads.
The surface finally suffice. My eyes shift direction to our reflections,
the disheveled bed hair, skin-deep reaches and plunges, two bodies taking a place
through giving in to its chance for the temporal haul
of an endless whole.


You are on the receiving end, looking above
my head. You take the time to discover more inches,
to be the one to see for ourselves that you are now
higher than me. I used to be taller than you
when we were closer to our inner child
and had the time for open-ended narratives.
Now you are proud of your ruling, grinning
thoughtfully for history’s sake, for what comes
more during comebacks.

I tilt my head to your side, just enough to arrive
with a slanted face. In for all, I was shaking—it must have been
the coldness of inner pitch-black space, the weak refusal
from being filled this way, or the emptiness
that must be contained.


So you just take place, you holding on to your ways
of freeing me from the fixation with crashing at checkout time.

The bags are packed before you came, still. I may not yet be
tucked on the window side of the bus but my growth,
rooted between knowing better and minding the current, dawns
on the crevices of my heart. It does not shy away
at the height of honest desire.


And so you win, still. The heart tends to an aged love, but you,
you have outgrown me.




Editors and Contributors


Eric Gerard H. Nebran is an educator and illustrator from General Santos City. He is currently a PhD Comparative Literature student at the University of the Philippines–Diliman. His research interests include orality, history, and literary productions of his hometown.

Jude Ortega is the author of the short story collection Seekers of Spirits (University of the Philippines Press, 2018), the chapbook Katakot (Balangay Books, 2018) and the zines Mga Kuwentong Peysbuk and Faded Jeans and Old Shoes. He has been a fellow for fiction at four national and two regional writers workshops. In 2015, his stories received honorable mention at the inaugural F. Sionil José Young Writers Awards and at the Nick Joaquin Literary Awards. He divides his time between Senator Ninoy Aquino and Isulan, both in Sultan Kudarat.


Jennie P. Arado is from Koronadal City, South Cotabato, and currently works for SunStar Davao as editor of the lifestyle section. She earned her BA in English (major in creative writing) from the University of the Philippines–Mindanao. Her story “Ang Dako nga Yahong sang Batchoy” won the South Cotabato Children’s Story Writing Contest in 2018.

Hazel-Gin Lorenzo Aspera is a registered nurse, artist, and writer. She spent her childhood in Cotabato City and is now based in Cagayan de Oro City. A fellow for literary essay at the 1st Cagayan de Oro Writers Workshop, some of her feature stories appear in the book Peace Journeys: A Collection of Peacebuilding Stories in Mindanao. Currently, she is Associate Director for Communications and Junior Fellow for Literary Essay of Nagkahiusang Magsusulat sa Cagayan de Oro (NAGMAC).

Allan Ace Dignadice is from Koronadal City, South Cotabato, and a BS Electronics Engineering student at Mindanao State University in General Santos City. He is a former editor in chief of the official school publication of Koronadal Comprehensive National High School. “Hawla,” his play that appears in this issue, is his fifth published work in Cotabato Literary Journal.

Gerald Galindez is a senior high school teacher at Notre Dame of Tacurong College in Tacurong City, Sultan Kudarat. His poem “San Gerardo and the Exocotidae” is the winner of the 2017 Cotabato Province Poetry Contest. He has released two poetry zines—I, Alone and Ginapasaya Mo Ako.

Rustom M. Gaton teaches at Montessori Learning Center in Isulan, Sultan Kudarat. He grew up in the municipality of Bagumbayan in the same province and earned his Bachelor of Secondary Education (major in English) degree at Sultan Kudarat State University.

Alvin Q. Larida is a teacher at Dole Philippines School in Polomolok, South Cotabato, where he teaches physics and chemistry for senior high school. He is a graduate of Notre Dame of Marbel University in Koronadal City, South Cotabato, and currently finishing his master’s degree at Mindanao State University in General Santos City.

Hannah Adtoon Leceña is a high school teacher and spoken word artist from Kiamba, Sarangani Province. She was a fellow for fiction at the 2018 Davao Writers Workshop and at the 3rd Bathalad–Sugbo Creative Writing Workshop (2019). She earned her Bachelor of Secondary Education (major in Filipino) degree at Mindanao State University in General Santos City.

Andrea D. Lim is from General Santos City and currently working as an editor for a publishing company in Cebu City while taking her master’s degree in literature at the University of San Carlos. She is also a former editor in chief of The Weekly Sillimanian, the official student publication of Silliman University in Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental.

The Confrontation

By Andrea D. Lim

I am enrolled in one of the private schools in General Santos City, a Protestant Chinese school in Barangay City Heights where more drivers and less parents send their children to school and pick them up when classes end. I contest to this generalization although I know it is true.

That is why I was not surprised with that frantic look my classmates and I shared when Ma’am Villa, our guidance counselor who I consider as my only true friend back in high school, announced to the graduating class a while ago that there will be a Father-Child Night next Saturday. We have dads who work seven days a week; even those who acknowledge the existence of a Supreme Being still spend Sundays for money-making. If God can be placed in a lower rank He does not deserve in schedules and priority lists, how much more a daughter like me who is not able to inherit both Math and business skills of my father, an industrial engineer and a businessman?

Ma’am Villa gave us copies of the letter of invitation we have to hand to our dads ourselves. There’s no harm in trying, I assured myself. The next morning, I placed the letter beside the Bible Papa always reads every morning—the book he also used to propose to Mama—with a cup of coffee or tea at his side. I also told Mama nonchalantly that the event’s main objective is for our fathers to have an intimate moment before we graduate, knowing that momentous encounters with them seldom happen.

Mama knows how to listen to what my silence cannot help but say. I heard her reading the letter to my father thru the phone while I was studying in my room. She would make sure she called his office every afternoon so that Papa will remember the upcoming school event.

Final exams and requirements for graduating students made time seem quicker to pass by, and the next thing we know, it was already Saturday. I still have not heard from Papa if he can make it to the event or not. I am already fifteen, I reminded myself while preparing for the event. You should know by now that pain chooses no age. Get used to it.

And I was not alone in the struggle of begging for our father’s time. I forgot to observe the look of our teachers’ faces—the ones who helped in conceptualizing and organizing this event with objectives they feel strongly about—but not the statistics of attendees, specifically the fathers. Out of sixty-four dads who were expected to come to the school’s audiovisual room, only twenty-one came. Half of them were also late. Those students who have their fathers with them were sitting on the front chairs. The rest of the “fatherless” bunch like me were at the back.

It was not a pity party for us, though. We were not sure if numbness is also a feeling, but we were pretty sure Mano Po movies depicting the “Filipino-Chinese children’s plights” are overrated. We just mocked the whole event as too sentimental or imagined ourselves as parents of our future children. Will we also decide that our homes and businesses be established in one building? Will we impose Ephesians 6:1–3 all the time and not bother ourselves with Ephesians 6:4? Will we be able to identify more with the nature of a system where wealth comes from than our future children’s identities?

Papa came roughly ten minutes before the event ended. He was only able to attend the last part of the program titled as “The Confrontation.” An ample amount of time was allotted for the student and his or her father to find a spot anywhere around the campus where a deep talk can happen.

“I know the perfect spot where we can talk,” Papa whispered to me.

He chose a bench under the tallest tree in school: a pine tree that’s higher than the campus buildings painted in white. I called that tree as the heart of the campus on one of my diary entries last year.

“I’m sorry…”

These are the only words he said. I always view Papa as a man of few words that have always been not enough. I never thought it only takes two words for a warrior to remove an armor and look at crumbled walls as beautiful ruins.

He started to cry. That was the first time I saw him cry like a fifteen-year-old boy. I did too. There are still no words, even if the thing that has to happen is already happening.

After the closing prayer, we immediately went to the car and headed home. I sat in the backseat; front seats are for mothers who endure seeing their children receive tough love from their fathers. All I can do is watch him drive. Growing up, I was never sure if I own a forgiving heart. All I know is I carry a heavy one. But at that moment, I was certain I do, because all I can give to Papa is unconditional love all along.

Editors and Contributors


Tarie Sabido is the chair of the Philippine Board on Books for Young People (PBBY) and a reviewer of books for children and young adults. She has been a judge for the PBBY Salanga Writer’s Prize, Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature, National Children’s Book Awards, and Children’s and Young Adult Bloggers’ Literary Awards. She is from General Santos City.


Jude Ortega is a short story writer from Senator Ninoy Aquino, Sultan Kudarat Province. He has been a fellow in two regional and four national writers workshops. In 2015, he received honorable mention at the inaugural F. Sionil José Young Writers Awards. He is the author of the short story collection Seekers of Spirits published in 2018 by the University of the Philippines Press.


Marianne Hazzale J. Bullos is from General Santos City and a scholar of Philippine Science High School-SOCCSKSARGEN Region Campus. She is a student during weekdays, a master crammer on weekends, and an eagle for lifetime.

Boon Kristoffer Lauw is a chemical engineer turned entrepreneur from General Santos City and is currently based in Quezon City. During his practice of profession at a beer-manufacturing plant last 2013, he began to pass graveyard shifts with random musings that eventually took form in writing—and, inevitably, stories.

Andrea D. Lim is from General Santos City, and she is currently working as an editor for a publishing company in Cebu City while taking her master’s degree in literature at the University of San Carlos. She was a fellow for poetry in the 24th Iligan National Writers Workshop (2017). She is also the former editor-in-chief of the Weekly Sillimanian, the official student publication of Silliman University, Dumaguete City.

Mary Ann Ordinario is a multi-awarded author of books for children from Kidapawan City, Cotabato Province. She owns ABC Educational Development Center, the oldest publishing house of children’s books outside of Metro Manila.

Alvin Pomperada of General Santos City is a management accounting graduate of Notre Dame of Dadiangas University. He is a member of Pangandungan, the association of writers in General Santos City.


March is the National Women’s Month Celebration for the Philippines, a country that has been annually taking an active part in the worldwide recognition of women’s social, economic, cultural, and political achievement in various forms. Moreover, the eighth day of the month is Women’s Rights and International Peace Day—a special date of further acknowledging and appreciating the role of women in world history.

Many studies, reports, and figures have already revealed that women today are still facing various forms of violence in most environments, hence the already given significance of being in solidarity with them all over the world who are still fighting for gender equality. Even in the world of literature, the literary history and present culture of many countries, including the Philippines, show that sexism is prevalent. US-based feminist organization VIDA: Women in Literary Arts has published an annual count that presents how little female writers’ works are featured and reviewed in anthologies and journals compared to their male counterparts, a fact that is similar to scholars’ findings in the early development of Philippine literature. According to writer and critic Erlinda Kintanar-Alburo in her paper, “Towards a Feminist Perspective: A Reader’s Guide to Contemporary Philippine Literature by Women,” the women’s literature in the country “does not fall consciously within the feminist agenda” except for the last decade. Early female writers have written from the margins, either submitting to it or subverting the dominant patriarchal order.

Nonetheless, the interest in women’s issues in the country is continually growing and empowered female writers strive as they aim for gender sensitivity, challenging the male-dominated literary canon that has been established through the years through workshops and conferences where panelists critique with a feminist perspective as well as the production of more literary writings and critical essays written by women themselves. Female writers currently write not solely on being a woman in general, but also about women facing contemporary concerns regarding identity, sex, human rights, nationalistic awakening, among others in a postcolonial setting. For this month’s issue, Cotabato Literary Journal joins in the celebration by featuring the literary works written by women and female-identifying individuals in the region. Most of the writings are from writers who are published in the journal for the first time. The editors have also selected some works that are published on zines featured during the SOX Zine Fest last November 2017 to be included.

Two fiction pieces written by Rossel Audencial and Hope Daryl Talib narrate surreal encounters with strangers. Audencial’s “The Road” is a short horror story about a young woman’s encounter with a strange co-passenger and their shared sentiment regarding their respective mothers in a late-night tricycle ride home that takes longer than the usual. The driver’s escape route from men who are assigned in one of the checkpoints at GenSan is unfamiliar for her, hence the escalating anxiety and confusion—all due to an expired license. The empty back seat upon reaching home adds to her peculiar experience. “Dead Lazy” by Hope Daryl Talib is a flash fiction piece that shows how a life that must be lived can present itself as a catastrophe if it must awaken one who is merely existing. The main character, Mitch Cabrera, is a college dropout who inherits enough money to survive after her parents died and chooses to not live beyond her bed, favorite movies, cheese puffs with cold mayonnaise, and the comforts of her house. As “life happens” in the form of a stranger who provides a tragic event for her to make the choice between saving herself and falling for her demise, she answers for herself if she is already a lost cause.

It is difficult not to succumb to bitterness when “the taste of tears and sweat are the same.” “Amalia,” Jerome Cenina’s heart-wrenching yet hopeful poem, presents a mother who remembers her childhood dream of exploring what is beyond her parents’ restrictions and the opportunity to experience freedom that she has grabbed. With the harsh realities of the present and the narrow path she sees as she carries her child, all she can do is embrace her choices and its seemingly irreversible outcomes. To face life head on may be its poignant, positive answer. In Maguindanaoan writer Merhana Macabangin’s poem “Timpo Saguna,” the persona challenges the claims of Filipinos in general that violence is absent and peace is enjoyed in the country. The first lines are written as sugarcoated lies that will make readers think twice about how people—either blind from the truth or refuse to see it—talk about the current times. After every human right defender and peace advocate whose lives are sacrificed for the country’s betterment, the ongoing wars prove that nothing has changed.

The woman as a lover who looks at the concept of desire as a two-way, give-and-take construct is also explored in the poems of Marie-Luise Coroza Calvero and Joana Galila. In Calvero’s romantic poem in Spanish titled “Quiero estar” (I want to be), the persona desires to claim its beloved’s heart as home: a place for growth where deep love is nurtured and a place where it is impossible to fully be away from. On the other hand, Galila’s balak “Inig Kita Kanimo” is a lament for the one that got away despite the persona’s attempt to save the person she truly loves from setbacks; even the healthy relationship, as presented in the poem, does not turn out as an assurance that an individual will be saved from a difficulty that consumes it. The lover can only do so much when love is not enough, and one step is to not get lost in the process of coping with heartbreak.

This month’s featured essays present the young women’s perspective in the environments they live in and their profound observations in life. Ira Shayne Salvaleon’s “Twenty-Two-Hectare Treasure” is about a senior high school student who reminisces the beautiful farm his family owns in a village in Carmen, Cotabato Province. As she thinks about the place that she has always loved and has not outgrown and how life’s challenges should be traversed through, she wishes to be a child whose happiness she considers as the most innocent kind of joy. Full of local color, the personal essay connects true love and the wonders of nature through the eyes of a young person. “Ice Candy” by Jhessa Gales is about a young girl’s love for eating ice candy at another store that may taste different than her mother’s own ice candy sold in their sari-sari store, but still “gives the same feeling.” Together with her friends after school, she would walk to the village instead of obeying her mother and riding the tricycle on her way home just to buy one. After encountering an accident, the young survivor contemplates in the middle of eating the hard-earned treat whether she should have listened to her mother, the closest source of her favorite food. The essay subtly delves into the mother-child relationship, resonating with readers who have vivid memories of their hardworking mothers.

Nobel Prize Winner in Literature and feminist short story writer Alice Munro writes in her book The Progress of Love that “the girl herself will have to say more if anything is to be done.” Mariz Leona indeed says more in her essay, “First Aid,” as she recounts her bleeding toenail and a personal encounter with a vehicular accident that makes her ponder about how prepared Filipinos are in helping those who get into an accident. Her work also serves as more than a social commentary on the importance of learning how to give first aid; it questions humanity’s willingness to help others even if it means active involvement.

These writers have written about the human condition with a combination of feminist, local, and postcolonial perspective. It is remarkable to see that female writers in the region are active in contributing to the rich and diverse literature of Region 12. Aside from these featured works, the promising entries submitted in BalakBayi poetry contest (The deadline is on March 15, 2018!) that I spearhead—in partnership with the journal and Aklat Alamid—are proof that women’s literature in SOX is thriving. It is my hope that the local women and women-identifying writers will produce more works to further cultivate a gender-sensitized readership.

Andrea D. Lim
General Santos City

Editors and Contributors


Andrea D. Lim is from General Santos City, and she is currently working as an editor for a publishing company in Cebu City while taking her master’s degree in literature at the University of San Carlos, Cebu City. She was a fellow for poetry in the 24th Iligan National Writers Workshop (2017). She is also the former editor-in-chief of the Weekly Sillimanian, the official student publication of Silliman University, Dumaguete City.


Jude Ortega is a fictionist from Senator Ninoy Aquino, Sultan Kudarat Province. He has been a fellow in four national writers workshop, and his stories have received honorable mention in the F. Sionil José Young Writers Awards and the Nick Joaquin Literary Awards.


Rossel M. Audencial is an AB English graduate of Mindanao State University in General Santos City. She now teaches in the university and serves as the adviser of Bagwis, the student publication. She finished a master’s degree from Notre Dame of Marbel University in Koronadal City, South Cotabato.

Hope Daryl Talib is a fourth year BSED English student at Mindanao State University. She loves to write poetry and fiction in the languages she knows, and her dream is to inspire her future students to write. She is from Tacurong City, Sultan Kudarat.

Jerome Cenina was born in Brgy. Spring, Alabel, Sarangani Province. He is currently studying at Notre Dame of Dadiangas University as a Humanities and Social Sciences Grade 12 student. He has always dreamed of becoming a lawyer and writer.

Marie-Luise Coroza Calvero is a composer from General Santos. She is currently pursuing a master’s degree in Film Music at the Institut für Neue Musik (Institute of New Music) of the Staatliche Hochschule für Musik (State Conservatory of Music) in Freiburg, Germany under composer and film music expert Cornelius Schwehr. In her spare time, she reads books, writes poetry and short stories, does freelance work as a music arranger, and teaches piano and music theory to children.

Joana Galila is a student of Bachelor of Secondary Education at Mindanao State University-General Santos. She lives in the municipality of Tampakan in South Cotabato.

Merhana Macabangin is a writer, illustrator, and Education student from Polomolok, South Cotabato. Her works are usually about Muslims and the Maguindanaon.

Mariz Leona is an AB English student at Mindanao State University in General Santos City. She is from Lambayong, Sultan Kudarat. “First Aid,” her essay in this issue, is the winner of the 2017 Sultan Kudarat Essay Contest, organized by local writers.

Ira Shayne Salvaleon is a senior high school student (Accountancy, Business, and Management track) at University of Southern Mindanao, Kabacan, Cotabato Province. “Twenty-Two-Hectare Treasure,” her essay in this issue, is a finalist in the 1st Cotabato Province Essay Contest (2017), organized by local writers.

Jhessa F. Gales is a fourth year BSED English student at Mindanao State University-General Santos City. She is from Polomolok, South Cotabato.


by Andrea D. Lim (Poetry)

February 13, 2016, Sibulan Port’s jeepney corner

We are all of equal weight
in manong drayber’s eyes—
as fixed as the minimum fare.

My mind’s carrying
a traffic of questions
heavier than the coins
passed from palm to palms,
like why injustices should
be etched in every Juan’s routines.

Towards him
there are questions
already relayed and received

“No change,”
says the konduktor
when I have to
ask for it
because I occupy
a space for two.

This is the answer.

The coins clink
in his tight grip.


By Andrea Lim (Poetry)

it comes as a parasite
sucking all the reason
why you only go and never leave

it loosens your grip
on the chances you take
once life becomes a mere window
showing the way you have to tread
to reach the goal,
a whatever for now

it leads the soul to hear tales about the silent cries
the walls might never crumble for
about how the bearers of absence
still see you
even inside

it just latches on
when the curtains
have to be closed
then caresses you
when you can still write about the living room
and the people who might never understand your dreams
but love you anyway

all you love anyway