April 7, 1521
It is midday.1 You and your datus2 are on the shore, in full regalia, awaiting your visitors.3 The drinking cup has been emptied and refilled with coconut wine throughout the morning.4 It has passed you and your men enough times that the speculations and rumors about the foreigners are now replaced by song and laughter.
You are shaded by a tent hung between coconut trees. Your women informed you that it is made of muslin from the Vijayanagara empire. Your wives, daughters, and slaves prepared this throne for the day. They also insisted that you wear your most impressive golden necklaces. It is unlikely that these strangers would know how expensive this tent is or of the Vijayanagara’s renown, but you’ve learned a long time ago that life is more peaceful if you leave these matters to your women.5
These displays of wealth are unnecessary among the usual traders. The few among them who are ignorant of your reputation would immediately see who they are dealing with by the stories told by your tattoos6 and the number of slaves under your dominion. Your belly would show them that famine has not touched your domain in ages.7 These visitors, however, seem to be clueless of your customs. To read tattoos is to learn a new language, but gold is the mother tongue of all.
It is said that there are two kinds of rulers, and it is the land and the sea that choose which kind you are to be. Most can only be warlords. To survive, they must cross many seas to seek and capture slaves. Those gifted with a port such as yours can become more than mere warlords. The wealth of the world will come to you, but you must welcome and host it the way rice fields embrace the rain.
Your old friend and ally, Rajah Colambu of Limasawa, has been sending you reports about the visitors. They were first spotted near Samar twenty days ago.8 The rajah's messenger told of around a hundred and fifty men in three sailing vessels without outriggers, similar to the boats of the Ming, though not as large.9
The men were said to be a pitiable sight, as if they were in the last dog-lynching stretch of a long famine.10 They were lucky to have chanced upon Limasawa instead of the islands still inhabited by wild men.11 Colambu has always been a good host. He not only provided food for the men but also burial for their dead and day-long drinking sessions.12 They seem to have recovered. It took quite a bit of back-and-forth to agree on Colambu's portion of the visitors' eventual tribute, so he made sure to delay their departure. The old bastard even got some of their men to help with his harvest.
Colambu says that the visitors are a civilized people, open to trade, and knowledgeable in the arts of war and navigation. He spent the most time with their scribe, a man very curious about local customs, language, and even plants. The scribe was accompanied by an interpreter, a slave from Malacca, who speaks the trading language.13
Colambu also reported that he met their leader. The Malaccan had convinced the rajah that these men can be trusted, so he went on board the ship. Colambu and his men received garments, knives, and mirrors in exchange for rice and other goods. Through the Malaccan, Colambu told the leader that he desired to be casi casi—brothers—with him. This gesture seemed to have won the trust of the leader. He showed Colambu their stockpile of merchandise and weapons. Like the Ming, they have large lantakas.14 Some of Colambu's men had never seen cannons this large and were startled when they were discharged.15 Colambu's messenger relayed this with amusement.
The scribe and the Malaccan have great admiration for their leader, the messenger observed. They regard him as the greatest navigator in their realm, a courageous warrior, and a wise lord. Colambu especially wanted you to know that they claim to navigate the sea without reading its waters.16 They study the stars with a metallic contraption and consult their drawings on Ming parchments.17
With the help of coconut wine, Colambu had made the Malaccan let slip stories of discord18 between the leader and his lieutenants.19 You made a mental note to dive deeper into this when you heard this from the messenger.
The leader also showed Colambu their metal armor and various hand weapons. He even had his men demonstrate the invincibility of the armor and claimed that one of his armored men was equivalent to a hundred of Colambu's warriors.20 When you heard these reports, you noted their leader's tendency for exaggeration. You also wondered why he was so eager to display his military strength. Well, you are about to find out.
The song and laughter subside as you and your people notice the three black ships in the horizon, quickly revealing their size and appearance as they speed towards your domain, the ancient trading port of Sugbo. Although you no longer ply the seas as you did in your youth—those happy days of trading in distant lands, raiding for slaves from the islands of wild men, and occasionally fighting in your old rajah's wars—you still appreciate the strange vessels that enter your port. As they say, "Even in the mountains, the sons of the balanghai21 carry the sea within them."
The ships are black as crows.22 Not only their hulls but also their masts and rigging. The three white sails on each ship contrast beautifully against the blackness. You guess that the substance must be a sort of sealant, similar to the tree resin that you use for your balanghais. Their sterns are very high, approximately as tall as six men.23 Since they are without outriggers, the height must be a way to ensure waves do not flood the vessels. There are also obvious military advantages of an unscalable bulwark. These ships are like seafaring fortresses.
The ships lower their sails as they draw nearer. Then suddenly, a series of loud explosions. You hear panicked murmuring among your subjects.24 Some draw their weapons. You scan your surroundings for signs of attack. You don't see any, and you notice Rajah Colambu with his huge smile waving at you from the deck of one of the ships, apparently amused at the commotion. He shouts that there is no need to fear. You instruct your men to calm your people down. This display of might is consistent with Colambu's reports. You wonder what world these visitors come from, where power needs to be extravagant—and probably exaggerated—instead of a weapon kept in secret, awaiting the season for its red harvest.
A small boat is drawn down from one of the ships. Its hull is also completely black and without outriggers. Could their realm be without bamboo, and would such limitation force creativity in shipbuilding upon them? As the boat nears your shore, you see that it carries two men, aside from the rowers. One of them looks like the Malaccan interpreter. The other must be a representative of the leader.25
The paragahin,26 your datu who handles the port, welcomes the guests. He presents them to you. They bow, as instructed by the datu. Their stench reaches you. The Malaccan could pass for one of your subjects. His bearded companion has the features of a Mughal or a Bengali. As reported, they have the look of survivors of a long famine. Their torsos and arms are fully covered with garment and are most likely untattooed.
The bearded foreigner, through the Malaccan, requests to speak. You make a slight nod to indicate your permission. The Malaccan translates for him. "My lord, our captain sends his apologies if the cannons frightened your subjects. It is our custom to discharge our artillery when arriving in important places such as your kingdom. They are signs of peace and friendship. The explosions were meant to honor you."27
So, they are not ignorant of courtesy, and they know how to wrap displays of power in a blanket of politeness. Still, you thought it was vulgar.28
They are made to sit a short distance in front of you and your court, close enough for you to hear their conversation. They are offered food and wine. Your paragahin asks the visitors how they like the roast pig, and they respond with appreciation and gratitude. The datu then delivers his usual spiel. He speaks of Sugbo's renown among traders from distant realms, the many slaves and exotic items available for trade, the strength of your fortifications, the protection of vessels by your retinue of warriors and allies in the area, and the abundant sources of water, livestock, and hardwood within your domain. He then makes his usual humorous reference to your port's courtesan dancers.29 Your wives made sure to place the fairest among them where they would surely be seen by the visitors. Your paragahin then asked them what their leader needed from Sugbo because you could surely provide them with it.
The Malaccan replies, "My master serves the greatest king and prince in the world. He is on his way to the Moluccas to trade for spice. Nevertheless, he had come solely to visit the rajah and to buy food with his merchandise because of the good report he had of him from the king of Limasawa."30 This was not a translation, and his tone is surprisingly confident. It looks like this Malaccan is more than an interpreter. Perhaps he is a trusted servant of their leader.
You speak directly to him. "Young man, your leader and his entire crew are most welcome to Sugbo. Merchants from as far as the Mughal kingdom trade in my port. My datu will inform you of the amount you are to give as tribute."
Your paragahin explains to the visitors, "It is the custom in the rajah's domain for ships entering the port to pay tribute." He nods towards a trader, "It was but four days since a junk from Ciama laden with gold and slaves paid the rajah tribute."31
The Malaccan and his bearded companion converse in a foreign tongue you do not understand. Your subjects are murmuring with a healthy energy. The datus who understood the conversation between your paragahin and the Malaccan relayed it to the rest of the crowd. Your subjects are, of course, looking forward to the feasting that always comes after tributes.
The murmuring dies down as the crowd notices that the visitors have concluded their little meeting. The Malaccan speaks to you, again with surprising confidence, "Since my master is the captain of the greatest king in the world, he does not pay tribute to any lord."32
The Malaccan continues, "If the rajah wishes peace, he would have peace, but if war, he would have war."33
Anger flashes through you. Your older brother would have immediately beheaded the slave himself. You notice your bilanggo,34 the datu who leads your wars, position his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to strike. He looks at you with an expression that asks for your permission to punish this insolence.
You are not your dead brother, and you are not a mere warlord. Not even a mere rajah. You are Rahaj Sarripada Humabon.35 Such supreme achievement does not come by from impulsiveness. You quickly imagine the scenarios. Killing these two would be an invitation for their cannons. They would execute Colambu in retaliation. His kin will probably blame you and will destabilize a number of your alliances. And taking the life of visitors, no matter their manners, will stain the reputation of your port among the traders, lessening future tributes. Letting them live might be perceived as a sign of weakness, but it seems to be the better option. There's even a chance that they are telling the truth about the power of their king.
The trader from Ciama must have sensed the situation's closeness to bloodshed and feared for his goods and his expected profits from his stay in your port. He tells you, "Sire,36 these men are the same who have conquered Calicut, Malacca, and all India Major. If they are treated well, they will give you good treatment, but if they are treated badly, they will deliver bad treatment and worse, as they have done to Calicut and Malacca."37
The Malaccan then adds, "My master's king is more powerful in men and ships than the king of Portugal. He is the king of Spain and emperor of all Christians. If the rajah does not care to be my master's friend, the next time he visits, he would send so many men and destroy your kingdom."38 You ignore the repeated threat and focus on the first part of the slave's statement. He speaks of unfamiliar terms and distinctions, which seems to speak of a power structure. You are intrigued.
You sheath your pride like a knife whose time for harvest has not yet come. You tell the Malaccan, "I will confer with my men, and will answer your master tomorrow."39
You order your paragahin, loud enough for all your datus to hear, "Make sure our guests receive as much food and wine they need, and ensure their safe passage back to their ship."
As the crowd relaxes and returns to its quiet murmuring with this resolution, you catch the gaze of your atubang.40 He is the domain's Bendahara41 and your younger brother. He knows you well. After all, he has been your main interlocutor for strategy and order as you rose to power. You betray a slight and dark smile, and he responds with a barely perceptible nod. You guess that he has read your heart and mind accurately: your anger has disappeared and has been replaced by the excitement of a master player who just got presented with the strange opening moves of a new challenger.
Thanks to RM Topacio-Aplaon for being my atubang—interlocutor—in writing this. Also, a hat-tip to the Podkas podcast for pointing me to Laura Junker’s book. For an overview of this project, check out the preliminary preface of Rajah Versus Conquistador.
All numbered references are from The First Voyage around the World, 1519-1522: An Account of Magellan's Expedition, edited by Theodore J. Cachey Jr., University of Toronto Press, 2019. When not explicitly stated, the numbers inside curved brackets indicate the paragraph number, while those inside square brackets indicate sentence numbers. For example, this scene’s timing at noontime is based on paragraph 70 and sentence 465: “(70) At noon on Sunday, 7 April, we entered the port of Cebu [456].”
A datu is a clan chief. In contemporary Cebu, the word is used to refer to a wealthy individual.
I’m mainly using Laura Junker’s Raiding, Trading, and Feasting: The Political Economy of Philippine Chiefdoms (1999) for the underlying social, political, and economic structure of this story’s setting.
Pigafetta observed how the tattooed men of these islands were “very heavy drinkers [438].” He describes what is now called “tagay” (sharing of one drinking cup) and “pulutan” (food pairing for the liquor) [368] - [374]. The liquor he is referring to is undoubtedly the same tuba consumed in Cebu today, based on his description of its production process [304] - [305]. In fact, the word list from his stay in Cebu includes “tuba,” which he translates into “wine.”
In premodern societies, the priesthood tends to function as a propaganda organ to legitimize the sovereign’s rule and maintain caste structures. In the case of Humabon’s domain and many other polities in what is now the Philippines, it was women who took on this role: the babaylan.
Here’s how Pigafetta describes Humabon: “(77) When we reached the city we found the king in his palace surrounded by many people, seated on a palm mat on the ground, with only a cotton cloth covering his private parts, and an embroidered scarf on his head, a necklace of great value hanging from his neck, and two large gold earrings fastened in his ears set round with precious gems [507]. He was fat and short, and tattooed with fire in various designs; from another mat on the ground he was eating turtle eggs that were in two porcelain dishes, and he had four jars full of palm wine in front of him covered with sweet-smelling herbs and arranged with four small reeds in each jar, by means of which he drank [508].”
From Junker (1999): “The whole body was not tattooed at one time, but it was done gradually. In olden times no tattooing was begun until some brave deed had been performed; and after that, for each one of the parts of the body which was tattooed some new deed had to be performed.” Ethnographies of contemporary “Indigenous Peoples” in the Philippines that have retained the practice of tattooing as a status marker can also give us an understanding of what tattoos meant during the time of Humabon. Here are some excerpts from Analyn Salvador-Amores’s "Batok (Traditional Tattoos) in Diaspora: The Reinvention of a Globally Mediated Kalinga Identity." (2011). “Tattooing of the successful warriors [maingor] followed, as tattoos were considered to be talismans to repel malevolent spirits or ‘armours’ to protect their bodies – part of what Thomas (1999, p 237) calls a ‘technology of fear’: tattoos intimidate and incite fear in the enemy in warfare, and at the same time command respect from the people.” “Further, tattoos were – and continue to be – indicative of the high social standing of the warrior class [kamaranan] and mark wealth and prestige for both men and women.”
Pigafetta records their first meeting with the subjects of Rajah Colambu on March 18th, 1521 (paragraph 51).
"Chinese exploration of the Philippines reached its commercial peak during the years 1405 to 1433, when the Treasure Fleet ruled the South Pacific and the Indian Ocean. Its immense ships ranged as far as the east coast of Africa to collect precious items and tributes for the emperor. They were eight or nine times longer than Columbus’s ships and five or six times longer than any in Magellan’s armada. For sheer size, the Treasure Fleet was unrivaled until the zenith of the British navy in the nineteenth century." From Laurence Bergreen, Over the Edge of the World: Magellan's Terrifying Circumnavigation of the Globe (2003).
Tig-bitay ug iro.
Mga ihalas.
See paragraphs (58) to (69) for Pigafetta’s record of his time in Rajah Colambu’s domain.
Pigafetta writes, referring to Colambu, “The king understood him, for in those districts the kings know more languages than the other people… [347].” William Henry Scott calls this trading language “Malay.” See the chapter “Why Did Tupas Betray Dagami?” Looking for the Prehispanic Filipino and Other Essays in Philippine History (1992).
Lantakas was a type of bronze portable cannon. See William Alain Miailhe de Burgh and Fe B. Mangahas, Of War and Peace: Lantakas and Bells in Search for Foundries in the Philippines, Part One: Lantaka from 16th to 19th Centuries (Manila: UST Publishing House, 2010).
See paragraph (58).
See the chapter entitled "The Wayfinders" in Wade Davis, The Wayfinders: Why Ancient Wisdom Matters in the Modern World (Toronto: House of Anansi Press, 2009) to get an idea of navigation among the Austronesian peoples. The chapter presents how pre-conquest Polynesians navigated the islands they populated across the Pacific. Their navigation was surely on a level higher than Humabon’s people, as the latter lived in an archipelago. However, given the genetic, cultural, and linguistic connection between them and the Polynesians, it is likely that their techniques were similar.
Humabon and his people’s knowledge of paper would likely have come from paper manufactured in what is now China through maritime trading networks.
There was a mutiny while Magellan’s fleet was in what is now Argentina. Pigafetta does not mention this incident. Using other sources, Laurence Bergreen details this event in Over the Edge of the World: Magellan's Terrifying Circumnavigation of the Globe (2003). Bergreen also shows the tension between the officers, mostly from the kingdom of Castile, and Magellan, who was originally from the kingdom of Portugal. Pigafetta mentions this tension early in this account: “(the captains who accompanied him, hated him exceedingly, I know not why, unless because he was a Portuguese, and they Spaniards) [6].”
Humabon would have seen Magellan’s officers as the captain-general’s datus. I’m translating this to the contemporary “lieutenant.”
See sentences [357] - [358].
Balanghais are outrigger boats. They were culturally significant in Humabon’s society. The political unit of “barangay” in the current Republic of the Philippines is based on this significance.
During his time in Cebu, Pigafetta observed black screeching birds, which he calls crows. See paragraph (95).
Based on Laurence Bergreen’s description in Over the Edge of the World: Magellan's Terrifying Circumnavigation of the Globe (2003).
Sentence [458].
Sentence [459].
From Junker (1999): “Analysis of early Visayan dictionaries compiled by the Spaniards reveals the presence of several specialized administrative positions of high rank that were likely filled by a datu’s close kinsmen (Scott 1994:130). These include the datu’s primary counselor, the atubang sa datu, or literally “one who faces the datu”; an assistant known as the paragahin, whose primary duty was tribute collection and food allocation at feasts; and a strongman (bilanggo) who enforced chiefly punishments.”
Sentence [461].
Wala’y batasan.
Pigafetta relates how he was entertained by a prince (that William Henry Scott identifies as Tupas, the head datu of Cebu during the arrival Miguel Lopez de Legaspi in 1565) who had him dance with three completely naked girls who were "very beautiful and almost as white as our girls and as large." (sentence [516]). The sanskrit "rajah" indicates a cultural connection with the kingdoms of what is now South Asia, and these dancing courtesans could be the equivalent of the Devadasi. These were pre-Capitalist equivalents to today’s “escorts.” Pigafetta writes, “The women loved us very much more than their own men [641].” This sounds like the work of a pro.
Sentence [463].
Sentence [464]. Pigafetta did not see this first hand but must have reconstructed it from the representative and the interpreter. He relays these words as coming from Humabon, but I’m interpreting it as shorthand for the official conversation that happened through the paragahin.
Sentence [465].
Sentence [465].
See footnote above explaining “paragahin.”
From William Henry Scott’s Looking for the Prehispanic Filipino: “Those who controlled trading posts attracted the most allies and often took prestigious Malay-Sanskrit titles validated in lavish ceremonial feasts like Rajah ("ruler") or Batara ("noble lord"). One of Tupas' fellow datus was a certain Batala, but the most respected title for harbor princes was Sarripada ("his highness") or its variants, Salipada, Sipad and Paduka (all from Sanskrit Sri Paduka). It was used by Rajah Humabon, ruler of Cebu in Magellan's time, and at least three of his contemporaries…”
The actual word could have been ginoo (today, after 500 years of Christianization, this word is used exclusively for Jesus Christ or God).
Sentence [466].
Sentence [468].
Sentence [469].
See footnote above explaining “paragahin.”
In paragraph [88], Pigafetta mentions "Bendara" as the name of one of Rajah Humabon's brothers (the father of Tupas). However, "Bendara" or "Bendahara" is not a personal name but rather a title or office that was commonly used in various pre-colonial Southeast Asian kingdoms, particularly in the Malay world. In the Malaccan Sultanate, a powerful trading state in the 15th and early 16th centuries, the Bendahara was one of the four highest-ranking officials in the court, responsible for managing the state's finances and treasury, as well as advising the Sultan on matters related to trade and economics. See Manguin, P. Y. (1999). “The Amorphous Nature of Coastal Polities” in Insular Southeast Asia: Restricted Centres, Extended Peripheries.
Can. Not. Put. This. Down. More, more, more.