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In a children’s book market long dominated by English titles and Western characters, a small but powerful movement is quietly taking shape. One that is led by Cebuano women who are writing, illustrating, and publishing stories in their own language. One of the newest additions to this growing body of work is Alpabetong Bisaya , a vibrant alphabet book created by Cebu-based illustrator and author Cheryl Toting Villarino better known as Tambol Bee or Toting to close friends. To celebrate International Women's Month, we feature Toting's story. More than just an ABC book, Alpabetong Bisaya reflects a deeply personal journey that began with a mother trying to help her child understand the Bisaya language. A Mother’s Problem-Solving Moment The idea for Alpabetong Bisaya started with a familiar frustration among many Filipino parents navigating the Mother Tongue-Based Multilingual Education (MTB-MLE) curriculum. “When my daughter was in Kinder 2, I discovered how challenging the Mother Tongue subject was,” Toting recalls. “When I received her notes, it was just pages and pages of photocopies filled with deep Bisaya words. Everything was black and white, and the words felt alien, even to me.” As a designer and illustrator, her instinct was to solve the problem visually. She began drawing small illustrations beside the words to help her daughter understand them. What started as a simple learning aid slowly evolved into something bigger. “In the process, I also discovered that I didn’t know much about my own native tongue,” she says. That realization sparked the idea for a book that would introduce Cebuano words to very young readers through colorful visuals and familiar everyday experiences. A Childhood Love for Picture Books Toting’s path to creating children’s books traces back to a childhood memory in Lutopan, Cebu. During recess breaks, she would often hide in the school library’s Early Readers section, surrounded by picture books. “I loved browsing through them, always fascinated by the illustrations,” she says. One day, her aunt, who happened to be the librarian, called her out. “ Nganong naa pa man ka diri, day? Imong mga classmates niadto na sa young adult section, ikaw naa pa ka diri? ” Her classmates had moved on to bigger books, but she remained captivated by the world of illustrated stories. “Looking back now, I think that moment stayed with me,” she says. “My love for children’s books never left. I always dreamed of publishing my own children’s book someday.” Building an Alphabet for Today’s Children When developing Alpabetong Bisaya , Toting focused on making the language approachable for young readers. “The process was about finding the right balance, choosing words that kids could easily understand and recognize, and that I could also illustrate clearly,” she explains. Instead of relying on obscure or deeply traditional vocabulary, she leaned toward modern, conversational Cebuano words. The common terms that children might hear at home or in everyday life. Each letter came together through a mix of research, sketching, and trial-and-error until the full alphabet was complete. Illustration and research, she says, became the most enjoyable parts of the process. “I kept learning new things about Cebuano along the way.” A Pandemic Project Ten Years in the Making Although the idea had been in her mind for years, actually starting the book took time. “It took me ten years to finally begin,” she admits. “I had the vision, but taking the first step was the hardest part.” During the pandemic, she finally committed to the project—working largely on her own as both writer and illustrator. One of the biggest challenges was ensuring the accuracy of the words she selected. To address this, publisher Aklat Alamid conducted consultations and focus group discussions with experts to review the content. The collaborative process helped ensure that the language remained authentic while still accessible for children. Filling a Gap in Cebuano Children’s Books While researching for the project, Toting noticed something surprising. “There are many Cebuano storybooks around,” she says. “But there aren’t enough picture books for very young children.” That gap is significant. For many language advocates, early exposure is key to keeping local languages alive. “If we want kids to appreciate Cebuano, we need to introduce it as early as possible,” she explains. Alphabet books are often among the first books children encounter, making them an ideal entry point for language learning. A Growing Community of Women Creators Toting’s work also reflects a broader trend: the rise of Cebuano women in the local children’s publishing scene. Across independent presses and small creative studios, more women illustrators and writers are producing books that center Visayan culture, language, and storytelling traditions. These creators are not only preserving the language but also shaping how the next generation encounters it—through playful visuals, relatable characters, and everyday stories rooted in local life. In this landscape, Alpabetong Bisaya stands as both a personal project and part of a larger cultural effort. Making Bisaya Fun Again At its heart, the book is about changing how children perceive the Cebuano language. “My hope is that kids will develop an appreciation for Cebuano after seeing it presented in a colorful and engaging way,” Toting says. For many Filipino children, the most visually exciting books they encounter come from Western publishers. By creating locally produced picture books with equally vibrant illustrations, she hopes Bisaya will feel just as fun and exciting. Looking Toward the Future When asked what she hopes to see five to ten years from now, Toting’s answer is simple. “That more Cebuano children’s books will be made. And that more children will grow up loving them.” In the end, Alpabetong Bisaya is more than a book about letters. It's about rediscovering language, celebrating culture, and proving that stories told in our own words and drawn with our own hands can shape how children see the world. Awesome Updates Tambol Bee recently had a great reception at the Philippine Book Festival 2026 where she held a book signing. Alpabetong Bisaya also won the Blue Mango Awards for Cultural Heritage & History. Where To Find The Book Alpabetong Bisaya  is available in select independent bookstores across the Philippines including National Museum of Cebu, Lost Books Cebu, Siyam Cebu (Atua Midtown), Mt. Cloud Bookshop in Baguio, Roel’s Bookshop in Quezon City, Everything’s Fine in Makati, Libraria in Dumaguete, PalabasaLIBRO in Iloilo, and Alitaptap in South Cotabato, among others. The book is also available online through Pumplepie Books. Readers can follow Toting’s work on Instagram at @tambolbeedraws and the publisher @aklatalamid . Photos taken from Tambol Bee & Aklat Alamid Archives

Cebu City is wrapped in plastic. Lingering for years, clogging waterways, crowding landfills, and finding its way back into our communities, with a vengeance. The Mayor said it, in an article on Business Mirror dated February 21, 2026, Cebu City is facing a garbage crisis. In a city where sari-sari stores, takeout culture, and daily convenience often mean single-use plastics, the question is no longer whether Cebu produces plastic waste, it’s what we choose to do about it in our own barangays. But what if we stopped looking at plastic as instant trash and started seeing it as a local design opportunity? The Tangram Project by Cebu Making Space begins with a simple but radical idea: what if plastic waste didn’t leave the community as trash, but stayed and returned as something useful? Barangay Level Collaboration Waste management is often discussed at the city or national scale. But real change begins closer to home: in our own barangays. The Tangram Project demonstrates that meaningful environmental action doesn’t always require massive infrastructure. Sometimes, it starts with something as simple as collecting plastic bottle caps. Working closely with Barangay Kamputhaw, Cebu Making Space piloted a grassroots recycling initiative that transforms discarded plastic caps into colorful tangram sets for public daycare children, specifically Little Angels Child Development Center as the pilot beneficiary. Instead of sending plastic to landfills, the community participates in a circular process by collecting, cleaning, shredding, molding, and re-forming waste into educational tools. This hyperlocal model shifts the narrative that plastic is no longer just a disposal problem. It can become a shared resource. Transforming Waste to Learning Opportunities The tangrams produced through the project are distributed to children aged 4–7 at the barangay daycare center. Through hands-on play, they form animals, houses, boats, and familiar community scenes. This strengthens the kids' spatial reasoning and creativity using materials that once cluttered their surroundings. It’s a powerful metaphor. The same plastic that contributes to environmental problem can also be the solution that builds imagination and learning when placed in the right system. More importantly, the initiative keeps value within the community. The raw material is locally sourced waste. The labor and design thinking are community-driven. The beneficiaries are local children. This closes the loop not just materially, but socially. Designing for the Community At its core, The Tangram Project is about care, for both people and place. By hosting workshops that involve parents, youth volunteers, educators, and barangay leaders, Cebu Making Space demonstrates how civic spaces can function as community innovation hubs. Solutions are not imposed from outside but are co-created by those who live the reality every day. The project reframes recycling from a chore into a creative, participatory act. Residents see tangible outcomes of their waste segregation efforts. Children witness active environmental efforts. The barangay hall becomes not just an administrative office, but a design hub. More importantly, the project reframes responsibility. Instead of waiting for large-scale systems to solve Cebu’s plastic crisis, it asks: What can one barangay do? Small Systems, Big Shifts Cebu City’s plastic consumption will not disappear overnight. But barangay-level initiatives like The Tangram Project show that systemic change can start small, strategic, and replicable. When communities rethink consumption patterns within their own streets and puroks, they build cultures of accountability. When waste is seen as material for re-creation rather than disposal, circular thinking becomes embedded in daily life. The Tangram Project is not only about making toys. It is about redesigning our relationship with plastic. It is about proving that sustainability becomes powerful when it begins at home, in our own barangays, with our own hands. By focusing on barangay-scale innovation, The Tangram Project shows that sustainability doesn’t always start with policy reform or high-tech infrastructure. It can start with a table, a shredder, a 3D printed mold, and a room full of neighbors willing to rethink habits together. Photo credits to Cebu Making Space.

In the words of the late, great Teddy Co, “If Philippine Cinema is to become a dynamic social force, it can only do so by diversifying the kinds of films that it churns out. One is to move away from the congested city and look to the provinces in search of fresh new images.”  For its 15th year, the Binisaya Film Festival took that to heart, projecting this manifesto in neon Comic Sans over every screen and surface. Fans of the Binisaya movement are familiar with this flavor by now. From an impromptu karaoke session inside a movie theater to an online program entitled Saksaksinagol, Binisaya has never been one to shy away from irreverence.  Photo from Binisaya  Archives\ Here, there are no sacred cows. Playful takes on religion? This is a safe space. In “Walk with Jesus” by Redh Honoridez, a woman down on her luck finds the Son of God in the strangest of circumstances. Miko Buan Acuña likewise summons the second coming of Christ in “Maryosep” . In Ligaya Villablanca's "Padung Langit si Inday Opil” , a tragic heroine goes on a multilingual acid trip through an interfaith afterlife. The 24-hour Shootout “Diring Dapita” was an interschool omnibus film on the seven deadly sins. It ended with Lust, the winning entry from the University of San Carlos called Team O-Team with members: Simon “Batman” Tabaloc, Jose Andy Sales, Johannes Tejero, Xod Plania, Adrei Dulay, and their Coach and Instructor Kris Villarino. They tackled prevalent Gen-Z feelings of male loneliness and hugot in this surprisingly sensitive, mature and thoughtful film. Festival Director Daniell Aballe-de los Reyes adds, "The Shootout hybrid was something new so of course there were so many challenges but it was fun to see these young filmmakers flesh out their ideas, even with the limited time. It was a really great exercise in technique and storytelling". Photo from Binisaya  Archives Photo from Binisaya  Archives Two Mindanawon shorts were thematic sisters in spirit as female rage revenge fantasies: “Sa Ilalum sa Balabal sa Alitaptap” by actress-director Juvy Clarito and “When the Sun Sets Over Davao” by Adrian William Lo. The latter, a period piece that won the Audience Choice award, was ballsy in its portrayal of the Visayan settler in Mindanao. Yes, the Cebuano speaker is mocked in the capital and “imperial Manila” is the go-to enemy around these parts. But just as Cebu’s scene may seem quaint compared to NCR, next to a province like Leyte, that underdog dynamic flips. The meta-documentary “Asa Ang Mga Salida sa Leyte?” was fashioned into being because of filmic FOMO, of neighbors having it better. Co-directors Linus Masandag and Lebron Ponce ruminate on their region’s cinema, from the decaying theaters to the departure of local talent who seek greener pastures.  What then becomes of those with nowhere else to go? In Stephen Kelly Mahusay’s “dangpanan” , the city offers no safe haven to its most vulnerable denizens. In the surrealist sociopolitical critique that won Binisaya Best Short, the displaced are fed lies and cast aside, made to offer what little they have to get by. Binisaya Horizons Best Film Brownout Capital treads similar ground. In this documentary by Pabelle Manikan, we are transported to a rural outpost in Palawan that routinely experiences power outages. The neglect of a community, the negligence of authorities—these themes are unfortunately an archipelago-wide phenomenon.   Stills from Stephen Kelly's film "dangpanan"      Where programming is concerned, Binisaya is as inclusive as it is expansive. Filmmaker and curator Aiess Alonso was the pioneer who selected the first batch of Asian Shorts in 2014. Three years later, the 2017 call for submissions went global. This year’s Binisaya World was stacked with all-stars like Singaporean directing duo Lam Li Shuen and Mark Chua. They marked their festival comeback with “The Inescapable Desire of Roots” , a bizarre body horror short shot on 16mm and Super 8 film. Another returnee was Whammy Alcazaren who brought the heat with “Water Sports”, a climate change banger that won this year’s Binisaya World Best Film. Alcazaren’s “Bold Eagle” also won the same category in 2023. This plurality of perspectives didn’t just manifest in the selection of films, but also the curation of special guests for a panel talk. It began with representatives from the Film Development Council sharing their assistance programs and production grants, along with open calls for applications. From the film student to the industry practitioner, the message was loud and clear: aid exists for local filmmakers.  Director and screenwriter Arvin Belarmino’s origin story was one that some members of the audience must have resonated with. Cavite-born Belarmino used to major in Information Technology. His version of film school wasn’t conducted via classroom instruction—he honed his craft from being on set, collaborating with friends. This eventually led to his first official foray into filmmaking with Kyel (2015) . He has since built a body of work running the gamut from gritty neorealism to experimental absurdism. Hist latest short Agapito (2025) , co-directed with Kyla Romero, is a family drama doing the rounds at prestigious film festivals such as Cannes and Toronto. From there, we went behind the byline with a film critic. Jason Tan Liwag knows what the average reader is looking for with a review. Those three-out-of-five stars, thumbs up and down are seen to serve a utilitarian purpose: Is it worth the ticket expense and time? Liwag makes a case for criticism that isn’t reduced to mere consumer guide. To write about film is record-keeping. It is a conscious act of defiance against forgetting.  One of the topics touched on in the talkback was the artist's relationship with rest. The panel was transparent about their grindset. From pitching sessions to premieres, there's barely any breathing room between projects. The optional break is frequently opted out of. Regional filmmakers operate on island time, running on different Circadian rhythms. As a result, our calendars look different. We don’t have all-access passes to the same infrastructure and opportunities. In a city still cinematheque-less as of writing, there are barriers to (re)entry. And so it goes, those long bouts of inactivity in between spurts of productivity.  This is best illustrated with Binisaya’s closing film, "Pinikas" by Cris Fuego. From its pre-pandemic shoot to post-production, Pinikas took six years in total. While it would be easy to pin the delay on Fuego’s status as an engineer based overseas, distance was not the real culprit. It was a matter of finances—or the lack thereof. Life imitated art for the people behind Pinikas whose money troubles mirrored the protagonists in Pintuyan. However, the fate of Pinikas the film had a happier ending. Cast plus crew pulled through. The success story of this self-funded, self-distributed independent film shall continue.  Stills from Pinikas' official FB page This struggle is one that Binisaya as a whole knows well. Historically barebones and bootstrapped, its 15th edition was considerably much more boujee than previous iterations. The bigger budget was made apparent in the booking of a mall cineplex for four days of physical screenings and the free accommodation for out-of-town finalists. And so the spilling of tea, the sharing of beef, that summer camp camaraderie at those nightly afterparties were made a lot less insular.  What’s in store for Binisaya at 16? They always keep us guessing. Perhaps that is what brings people back for more, year in and year out. For the found family of orphans and outcasts who belong in Binisaya , rest easy. Home will always be here.  Photo from Binisaya  Archives Shout out to Binisaya Founder Keith Deligero, Festival Director Danielle Aballe-de los Reyes and members Idden de los Reyes, Remton Zuasola, Atty. Grace Lopez, and Darcy Arguedo.