Moral lesson of big sister short story by consorcio borje?

Answer 1

The eighteen year old big sister, Inciang helps the twelve year old brother prepare his stuff for the travel to Vigan. In the process, Inciang recalls her hardship in tending to the needs of her only brother. Their mother has passed away giving birth to the brother of Inciang so she acts as the mother to Itong. The father never married again and spends his time tilling their land and help in the everyday sustenance of the family. Itong needs to go to school and being a valedictorian graduate in the barrio elementary school, there is a need for him to pursue not only his dream but more so of the dreams of the family members for him become a doctor or a lawyer. Inciang feels in pain soon being apart from her brother for the first time. The rest of the family and more of Inciang display support, love, concern, care for Itong . He left the first time and the rest of the neighbourhood tend upto the bus station. Inciang is in so much emotional pain seeing his brother leave for Vigan but she displayed firm attitude as everyone bids the boy good bye. A year has passed and Itong returns to the barrio. He displays eagerness to see his old friends and Inciang notices everything. Few more years and Itong has grown taller and bigger, simultaneously he has changed in a way that he is no longer very tactile to his sister. Inciang is affected and she observes more yet accepting that change is indeed inevitable. The family needs to live a life despite the changes and Nena comes to the scene, someone whom she feels could be her sister.

source:cherami_7@yahoo.com/cherryjoyconcepcion

Answer 2

The basic lesson of the short story "Big Sister" by Consorcio Borje is that change is inevitable and time passes even if we try to stop it.

Answer 3

Characters in Big Sister by Consorcio Borje include Inciang, Itong, and their father. In addition, there is Mr. Cablana, Orin, Tia Orin, and Lacay Iban.

Answer 4

The Characters of Big Sister by Consorcio Borje

Inciang (big sister)

Itong (little brother)

Tia Orin

Nena (itong's friend/Lacay Illo's daughter)

Mr. Cablana (supervising principal teacher)

Tata Cilin

Pedro (itong's cousin)

Lacay iban

Merto (Tata Cilin's cousin)

I hope it helps!👌

Answer 5

The overflowi love and care of your sibling and family is the most irreplaceable thing on earth

Answer 6

aa

Answer 7

INCIANG

inciang is a hardworking and caring sister to her brother

ITONG

itong is a good brother he is obedient and kind to her sister inciang

TIA ORIN

tia orin is caring because she care itong

NENA

nena is a good friend of itong

Mr. Cablana

Mr. Cablana is the principal of itong and a supervisior

Tata Cilin

she is the one who taught where itong

Pedro

pedro he is the cousin of itong

Lacay iban

Lacay iban

one who support itong

Merto

Merto is the cousin of cilins

SETTING

The story takes place in 2 places. First, in a place in Ilocos where Inciang's family lives. Second, In Vigan, where Itong go to pursue his studies

MORAL LESSON

appreciate all the things

Answer 8

The Beetle

Consorcio Borje

Leaving for the rice fields of Don Tiñoso that morning, her mother said, "Gela, my child, watch until I return. For your noon meal, there is the leftover rice and the fish stew in the kitchen."

So, all morning and afternoon, Gela has been playing house in the front yard. Some mud in a can represents cooking rice; a few santol leaves represent vegetables. The front yard is a square patch of violet-red-earth, with a bamboo fence around it to keep the neighbor's pig out.

Now it is late that mother has not come home. Already, under the house, the chickens are going to roost, and men and women are coming up the road, their feet caked with mud, and, on their broad, anahaw-leaf hats, bundles of fragrant, newly harvested rice.

Gela squats on the ground, digging her big toes into the fine crust made by the rain. The men and the women glance at her.

"How quiet the child is! What a good child!"

"Has your mother come home yet, Gela?"

The answer is "No, Nana," or "No, Tata," or "No, Manong," and "Mother has not yet come home."

Gela watches the harvesters go by, their long brown arms swinging wide at their sides, the sweat glistening upon the back of their necks.

"Ay, you, Gela. What are you doing here?"

"Nana Basiang, waiting for mother."

"Your mother has not come home? She started home before me. Your mother said 'My child, Gela is alone at home waiting for me.' Have you cooked the rice?"

"No, Nana. Mother has told me I must not cook rice."

The old woman contemplates the girl in her muddy little dress, then turns on her heels and ascends the path that leads to a cogon-grass house that stands in the thick grove of santol trees on the rise across the road. Soon smoke seeps through the wet grass roof.

It is twilight. The slow lambent tolling of the church bell announces the Angelus Men and women pause and cross themselves piously.

"Gela."

On the child's face the eager look of welcome becomes one of disappointment.

"Has your mother still not come home?" Nana Basiang asks anxiously.

"Nana Basiang, not yet."

"What has happened to that woman? Never mind, I shall cook some rice for you. Where do you keep it?"

The rice is kept in a basket on a bamboo shelf, over the fireplace. That is to keep the bukbok out. "Where is Pitong, Nana Basiang? He did not come to play with me."

"That boy? Ha! I think he went swimming in the river again, the rascal."

Nana Basiang cooks the rice on the broad, shallow box, filled with earth and set on a level with the bamboo floor, that serves as a hearth. The potful of rice soon boils merrily. Red light and shadows chase across the sooty bamboo rafters and sooty bamboo walls, and across the dark, thin face of Nana Basiang.

There is a noise outside, then feet scurry up the bamboo ladder of the kitchen. A boyish , split by a wide, big-toothed grin, hair tumbled down the wet forehead, pokes from the darkness into the red wavering light.

"It is Pitong!" exclaims Gela.

"Aha! So you are here at last!"

Pitong steals sheepishly into the kitchen, accepts his mother's scolding meekly, and sits down beside Gela on the floor. He keeps his hand closed behind his back.

"What do you have in your hand, Pitong?" asks Gela.

Pitong closes his hands tighter and shakes his head uncommunicatively.

Gela closes to him and smiles. "Ala, Pitong, let me see it."

Gela puts all feminine wiles and charm in her smile and, failing to impress, she crouches and dives at the hand, but clutches only empty air.

"We are friends, Pitong. Why don't you show me what you have in your hand? Just a little peek."

"No!"

"I'll not show it to you then!"

"All right, says Pitong, thrusting his fist into his pocket, "you shall never see it."

Gela gives a yell and bursts into tears. "Wah, wah, wah!"

Nana Basiang fixes a red, truculent eye upon her son. "Now, what have you done to her? What have you done to her, you son of the devil?"

"Nothing, Mother," Pitong protests. "Nothing at all."

The rice bubbles over and, as Nana Basiang turns away to take the lid off the pot, Pitong kicks sidewise at Gela, who gives another yell and starts crying afresh.

"Come here, you, come here!" shouts the woman, preparing to take Pitong's measure.

"But, Mother," expostulates Pitong, who views his Mother's preparations with alarm.

"What did you do to Gela? Come here!" Nana Basiang rolls up her sleeves and selects a fair-sized stick from its pile near the hearth. Come here."

Pitong gives Gela, who is watching the proceedings with interest, a devastating look and edges towards the door.

"Na, Mother, Gela is crying because I wouldn't show her the thing in my hand because she would not..." He stops short.

"What wouldn't she do?"

"She would not-" Pitong racks his facile brain in vain.

"Because he asked for a kiss," Gela puts in.

The woman glowers upon Pitong. "What! You son of the devil!"

"Just a little kiss, Mother," says Pitong.

"And when I would not kiss him, he kicked me," Gela adds.

The mother glares at Pitong. "What! You son of the devil!"

"Just a little kick, Mother," says Pitong. "The kick would not have hurt an ant."

The woman's eye rests upon Pitong's closed hand. "What is that in your hand" Pitong, with a backward glance at Gela, opens his hand before his mother near the fire and closes it again as Gela steals up behind him.

"Ay, just an abal-abal (edible beetle), "exclaimed the woman. "Have you been quarreling just be cause of that?"

The secret is out. "Ay, just an abal-abal," says Gela depreciatingly.

"Na, but you wanted me to see it," Pitong retorts derisively. He opens his hand and the beetle crawls up one of his fingers. It is fat and grayish-brown, and the firelight gleams on its wing covers. A length of thread secures it by two bound legs to one of the boy's fingers.

"So the abal-abal came out this afternoon, Pitong?", asks the mother. "Have you caught any for supper?"

"Yes, Father is already boiling them in vinegar." He turns around and sticks his Gela, who is watching the antics of the beetle enviously. "La! We shall have abal-abal for supper tonight."

"La! I do not like abal-abal," lies Gela weakly, her eyes still glued to the beetle, noticing which, Pitong puts it in the center of his palm and closes his fingers over it.

In the happy anticipation of a meal of beetles boiled in vinegar, Nana Basiang neglects to c astigate the errant Pitong and occupies herself with cooking the rice. She rests the pot on a bed of embers on one side of the fireplace and replaces the lid, first putting a piece of green banana leaf over the cereal. The escaping steam fills the air with a fine aroma.

"What have you for supper, Gela?"

"The fish stew in the little pot, Nana Basiang."

The woman takes down the pot and examines its contents in the glow of the embers. She sniffs it.

"It is spoiled. Hoy, Pitong, run up to our house and get some of the boiled beetles, for Gela. Hurry, you soon of the devil."

Pitong tarries to give Gela a baleful look, then disappears into the velvet night which is full of the smell of flowers. Silence settles upon the kitchen. The deep red glow of the embers pulsates among the soot-black pots, the row of shiny, battered tin plates, the black coconut bowls on the bamboo shelf hanging from the dark loft, and one or two five-gallon caps filled with water. Nana Basiang, squatting before the fireplace, stirs restlessly.

"Are you lonely, child?"

"Oh, I am lonely, Nana, Won't my mother come home soon?"

There is the noise of bare feet outside. The two look at each other with a glad light in their eyes. "Your mother is home now." Angela rushes to the door, crying, "Mother."

But it is Pitong standing outside in the dim light coming from the door. He look at Gela foolishly, holding something wrapped in a green banana leaf in his hand. On his shoulder the gray-brown beetle is resting, its white string falling away.

Pitong delivers the boiled beetles with a grand gesture, and his mother sends him back. "Tell your father," she says, "to see if your Nana Sibbi is anywhere among the neighbors."

While Gela eats on the floor, Nana Basiang stares over the low wall of the kitchen after the figure of her son disappearing in the dark. Later on, she descries her husband hurrying down the path with a lantern in his hand. He vanishes down the road; the lantern casting huge, swinging shadows. Nana Basiang sits down on the floor beside the girl, only to start up at the sound of voices on the road. A party of men and women are passing by on their way home from threshing rice at the mill of the rich man, Don Tiñoso. In reply to Nana Basiang's shouted inquiry, they say they have not seen the missing woman.

Gela finishes her meal, drinks from the coconut dipper, washes the plates, throws the dish-water into the night, warning away that spirits lurking nearby with a "cayocayo" lest they get drenched. Someone outside calls for Nana Basiang. It is Tata Iban, her husband looking tired and pale in the dubious light of the lantern. He beckons to Nana Basiang to come out quietly.

"She is in the house of Tata Bansiong. She is dead."

"Dead?"

"Yes," the man whispers. "Dead. Bitten by a rice snake!"

"I did not see her when I passed by the old man's house."

"There was no one in the house when she got there. I arrived with Lakay Bansiong himself and his wife. They had just come from threshing rice at the mill of Don Tiñoso. We found her there, lying on the floor."

"And-Gela?"

They glance back at the kitchen. Gela is sitting on the small wooden mortar, solemnly watching, fireflies at play around the gumamela bushes.

"People are bringing the body over," says Tata Iban. "What shall we do?"

Nana Basiang decides promptly. "We'll take her home with us."

Outside the door, Gela sits newly washed and solemn in a clean white dress, stiff with starch. Strange men and women, men and women in black, come in and out of the door. There are men talking, drinking the sweet sugar-cane wine, chewing buyo and spitting red out of the window. There are women playing panguingue with decks of Spanish cards on mats spread on the floor.

There is loud talking, much acrid smoke going up into the cobweb-festooned rafters.

"Poor child," says a thin sallow-complexioned young woman, stroking Gela's head gently "Poor child, where will you stay now that your mother is dead?"

"I don't know, Nana."

"You come to live with me, ha?"

"No Nana."

Gela begins to cry softly. In the main room of the house her mother lies very still and very white on the bed-mat upon the floor. Her wrinkled hand clasped upon her breast, and a little black cross stuck between the rigid fingers.

"Don't cry, child. Now you make me cry also."

Gela sobs louder. Tears stream down her cheeks.

Nana Basiang takes Gela by the hand. "Let us go, Gela," she says. "That son of the devil son of mine will play with you."

Across the road, past by the tin cans and the sticks and the dried shredded sand of leaves with w hich she played house yesterday, now piled into a heap on one side (for Tata Iban has come to sweep the yard); up the path, with the butterflies flitting from the aso-aso flowers; over the stones which the rains for years have washed smooth, Gela and Nana Basiang go. They arrive at the house of the woman.

"Pitong! Pitong! Now, where is that son of - ah, there he is."

Pitong comes running around the house. In one hand is a string on which flies the beetle. "Pitong, come play with Gela."

Pitong sniffles obediently. He lifts up a bare foot to show that one of his toes is hurt. He has bandaged it with a piece of the cloth used for wiping sooty pots. Nana Basiang leaves for the house of the dead across the road. Gela is still sobbing.

Gela, sobbing tearlessly, stares interestedly at the beetle. The beetle alights her arm. "Oh, oh, oh."

"See, it is going up your arm," says Pitong.

"It scratches!" Gela's swollen face brightens, but still she is sobbing. "See, it is clasping its hands."

The beetle spreads its wings as if to fly away, but folds them again.

"It likes me," says Gela. She glances at Pitong hopefully. "It does not want to fly away from me."

"Ay, it did the same thing with me also,"

"May I hold the string for a while, Pitong?"

Pitong considers for a moment, then gladly delivers to her the custody of the beetle, which resumes its slow journey up her arm. Between her sobs, Gela giggles delightedly.

Pitong looks down the hill, across the house of Gela. Lakay Doro, the carpenter, is carrying the newly finished wooden casket up the stairs. The casket is gleaming brown, but soon he will drape it with the black cloth that is flung over the sill of the windows, he will use the little nails which Pitong bought for him at the Chinese store with his own mother's two centavos.

"Oh, oh, oh" sobs Gela. She blows lightly at the beetle, pursing her lips, crinkling her tear-stained cheeks.

"You may have the beetle, Gela," says Pitong, his small heart swelling with a new bigness, "You may have the beetle all for your own."

"Ah, Pitong! Do you mean it?"

"Ehm-m," Pitong nods vigorously.

"Ah, Pitong," Gela steals up to him and, still sobbing, suddenly gives him a hearty smack on the closer cheek. On the cheek of Pitong, a wet little round "O" leaves a ring of brown on a field of grayish dried mud.

NOTE: That's the whole story I hope it helped! :)

Answer 9

The eighteen year old big sister, Inciang helps the twelve year old brother prepare his stuff for the travel to Vigan. In the process, Inciang recalls her hardship in tending to the needs of her only brother. Their mother has passed away giving birth to the brother of Inciang so she acts as the mother to Itong. The father never married again and spends his time tilling their land and help in the everyday sustenance of the family. Itong needs to go to school and being a valedictorian graduate in the barrio elementary school, there is a need for him to pursue not only his dream but more so of the dreams of the family members for him become a doctor or a lawyer. Inciang feels in pain soon being apart from her brother for the first time. The rest of the family and more of Inciang display support, love, concern, care for Itong . He left the first time and the rest of the neighbourhood tend upto the bus station. Inciang is in so much emotional pain seeing his brother leave for Vigan but she displayed firm attitude as everyone bids the boy good bye. A year has passed and Itong returns to the barrio. He displays eagerness to see his old friends and Inciang notices everything. Few more years and Itong has grown taller and bigger, simultaneously he has changed in a way that he is no longer very tactile to his sister. Inciang is affected and she observes more yet accepting that change is indeed inevitable. The family needs to live a life despite the changes and Nena comes to the scene, someone whom she feels could be her sister.

Answer 10

ang pretty ko hehes