If there is one word to summarize the relationship between humans and the environment, it would be interconnectedness. It is intrinsic to our nature to feel the joy, sorrow, pain, and beauty of our surroundings. When we care for nature, it thrives, and we too thrive in crisp air, bearable weather, and the healthy sounds of birds coloring the sky. But when we deliberately destroy it for selfish, often capitalistic reasons, we destroy our own peace alongside it: unpredictable weather patterns, rising numbers of natural calamities, and days spent confined indoors because of poor air quality, flood threats, or a heat index the human body simply cannot bear.
Many existing native folktales already carry this sentiment. In the Philippines, there is the legend of Mariang Sinukuan, a Diwata who dwells in Mount Arayat in Pampanga. The bountiful fruit trees found on the mountain were credited to her grace, alongside the existence of remarkable animals that people believed were Mariang Sinukuan herself, acting as guardian of the land.
Residents around Mount Arayat, especially those most in need, reported waking up to generous fruit harvests left at their doorsteps, which they believed came from the Diwata. Out of gratitude, they kept a respectful distance from the deepest part of the mountain, treating it as her sanctuary, a place they wanted to keep sacred.
But greed crept into their hearts. There came a time when they grew unsatisfied with her gifts and began to demand more. A group of men made their way up Mount Arayat, intending to hunt, harvest, and take for themselves the mountain’s fruit and animals. As the bounty came into view, they were stopped in their tracks by its sheer brilliance and scale: fruits larger than a closed fist, branches bending almost to the ground under their own weight. Then came the animals, large and healthy. Before they could act, Mariang Sinukuan appeared before them. Just as they had been stunned by her creations, they fell silent at the sight of her. She permitted the men to eat any fruit they wished, with only one condition: they were to leave empty-handed. But greed holds firm, and the men disobeyed. They filled sacks with fruit and animals and carried them back down the mountain. As they descended, the sacks grew heavier and heavier, until the men looked down and realized the contents had turned to stone. Only then did they remember Mariang Sinukuan’s words. They fled, leaving the sacks behind.
Rather than becoming a lesson, the men’s venture became an inspiration, and soon more and more people climbed the mountain to take for themselves. Mariang Sinukuan watched it all, and in her anger, she recalled every fruit, every animal, and every tree from the forest. She no longer left harvest at anyone’s door. The mountain grew bare and silent. The people only understood their mistake as the days passed with nothing but their own hunger to remind them of what they had lost.
Such is the simple lesson the environment wants us to learn: be grateful. Be content with what is available, and do not succumb to hoarding, lest nature run out and leave nothing for you, your neighbor, or your community.
Sabrina Victoria, author of The Princess of Himmapan, reflects:
“I realised that most fiction movies aimed at kids with environmental themes focused more on the animals and fairies that get hurt by destroying nature, rather than focusing on the people that get hurt by it, which made me realise I wanted to tell the story like it was an old folktale.”
Woven into the pages of The Princess of Himmapan is a story that illustrates the consequences of neglecting and destroying nature: unpredictable fires, acid rain, and a diet reduced to rambutans. The residents of Mandalay further demonstrate how environmental destruction fuels civil unrest, as they scramble for help from neighboring kingdoms that cannot promise aid. All of it is told through the simple yet profound manner of a folktale.
The interconnectedness of people and nature goes beyond the physical. To scramble for food and fear for one’s safety at the onslaught of calamity causes great mental strain. To lose faith in the governing body to provide sustenance, as the Kingdom of Mandalay has shown, creates a deeper kind of despair. The Princess of Himmapan reminds us that nature is not passive. It is a living force that must be treated with respect, care, and humility, the same care we extend to the people we love, because it too has a soul deserving of that love, for the good and the growth of us all.
By Catherine Fangon