Mayon Unlimited

Certain dimensions are altered

by chance height or

deliberate distance.

On this slope at 25 hundred feet

rivers and roads,

hills and houses

Shrink. Even the sea is changed,

becomes a kitchen plate of blue—

so empty, so new.

And this proud breast-mountain

turns into a fulcrum

for the universe—

Brings us to the company of stars:

beyond its graveled

bouldered peak,

We hear the arguments of suns,

the briefs of planets,

judgments of galaxies.

We hear the relevance of men questioned:

our politics and terrors,

our many gods and treasures

into awesome absurdities reduced.

"The View from Mt. Mayon"

by Luis Cabalquinto

The Literary Apprentice 47:2, November 1974, 74.

Suddenly, last summer

Back then, we had a hundred and one ways to spend summer, if only to while away the absence of friends in April or survive the heat of May.

Once we set up a table borrowed from the grade school library to serve as our table tennis court. Not long after, the table tennis table burned in the whole days with my brothers all bent on mastering the newfound skill of ramming down a small ball into the brown board so the opponent goes off the court with the ball clueless where the ball went or wherever he himself went.

Not long after, the table tennis pastime became an addiction that Mother saw there was problem with it—we were glued to each other’s “performance” as if all we had to do was to prepare for some “tournament”.

I wonder whether the table tennis “tournament” materialized. Perhaps Mother said the school library already needed the table sooner than the first enrolment week in June. So I think the table tennis table had to go as we also had to prepare to go back to school—but not our newfound acumen for precision or skill for timing which we learned from each other or together. Talk of quality time in those days.

"...I have felt for many years that if I had children and a television set I would insist on putting an empty box next to the set; for every hour my children watched television they would have to spend an hour creating their own play with the empty box…

We would go visit our cousins downtown to watch the nightly feature on our aunt’s Betamax movie (ware) house. But the nightly feature was more of a bore because we watched films with the rest of the barangay who paid for their nightly entertainment of Bruce Lee films and Ramon Revilla flicks. What I looked forward were the times we would rather spend time for ourselves after or before watching a film on their Betamax set.

Once, my younger cousins and I watched Gary Valenciano’s Di Bale Na Lang perhaps a hundred times in a short time, say, a week or a month. The elder cousins always watched the same tape, so watch the same single film we younger cousins did, too—twice, five times, ten times, perhaps indeed a hundred times, now and then telling the same story to ourselves, laughing at the same funny scenes for a number of times and memorizing the actors’ lines in the long run.

It was not that our cousins had no other tape to watch. But that was how we chose to entertain and please ourselves. Imagine watching the same show through the days of the week—or sometimes many times a day. We perhaps internalized some of the characters from the flick that we even eventually behaved like them in our own persons. Characters which we, through the years, would later become.

"…We need to take up activities that truly engage us with ourselves and others—music, painting, poetry, dance, massage, cooking, hiking in nature—not to pursue prizes or with a mentality of judgment but rather as we would approach prayer itself, for that is what these actions are—acts of meditation and art as meditation."

In the year, we would climb the kaimito and santol trees even before they started dropping fruits on our open yard. Or we would fly airplanes made from scratch papers after our studies were over. 

When it rained, we would make paper boats and roll them into the small river that flowed from the foot of the hill where our house stood. Or where today it still stands.

These days I find myself standing still, taken aback by days of old, helplessly enchanted by the empty spaces that these and other such memories always create in the mind. After so many years, the colors are as vivid, the air as fresh as with childhood. Everyone then, regardless of where we went or what we did, seemed uncomplicated. It was as if every single thing was in place. Then, we did not bother so much where and when and how we would want to be. If at all, then, we were always happy and free.

Suddenly, last summer

Back then, we had a hundred and one ways to spend summer, if only to survive the heat of April or while away the absence of friends in May.

Once we set up a table borrowed from the grade school library to serve as our table tennis court. Not long after, the table tennis table burned in the whole days with my brothers all bent on mastering the newfound skill of ramming down a small ball into the brown board so the opponent goes off the court with the ball clueless where the ball went or wherever he himself went. Not long after, the table tennis pastime became an addiction that Mother saw there was problem with it—we were glued to each other’s “performance” as if all we had to do was to prepare for some “tournament”.

I wonder whether the table tennis “tournament” materialized. Perhaps Mother said the school library already needed the table sooner than the first enrolment week in June. So I think the table tennis table had to go as we also had to prepare to go back to school—but not our newfound acumen for precision or skill for timing which we learned from each other or together. Talk of quality time in those days.

"...I have felt for many years that if I had children and a television set I would insist on putting an empty box next to the set; for every hour my children watched television they would have to spend an hour creating their own play with the empty box…

We would go visit our cousins to watch the nightly feature on our aunt’s Betamax movie (ware) house. But the nightly feature was more of a bore because we watched films with the rest of the barangay who paid for their nightly entertainment of Bruce Lee films and Ramon Revilla flicks. What I looked forward were the times we would rather spend time for ourselves after or before watching a film on their Betamax set.

Once, my younger cousins and I watched Gary Valenciano’s Di Bale Na Lang perhaps a hundred times in a short time, say, a week or a month. The elder cousins always watched the same tape, so watch the same single film we younger cousins did, too—twice, five times, ten times, perhaps indeed a hundred times, now and then telling the same story to ourselves, laughing at the same funny scenes for a number of times and memorizing the actors’ lines in the long run.

It was not that our cousins had no other tape to watch. But that was how we chose to entertain and please ourselves. Imagine watching the same show through the days of the week—or sometimes many times a day. We perhaps internalized some of the characters from the flick that we even eventually behaved like them in our own persons. Characters which we, through the years, would later become.

"…We need to take up activities that truly engage us with ourselves and others—music, painting, poetry, dance, massage, cooking, hiking in nature—not to pursue prizes or with a mentality of judgment but rather as we would approach prayer itself, for that is what these actions are—acts of meditation and art as meditation."

We would climb the kaimito and santol trees even before they started dropping fruits on our open yard. Or we would fly airplanes made from scratch papers after our studies were over. When it rained, we would make paper boats and roll them into the small river that flowed from the foot of the hill where our house stood, or where today it still stands.

These days I catch myself standing still, taken aback by days of old, helplessly enchanted by the empty spaces that these and other such memories create in the mind. After so many years, the colors are as vivid, the air as fresh as with childhood. 


Everyone then, regardless of where we went or what we did, was simple. It was as if every single thing was in place. Then, we did not bother so much where and when and how we would want to be. If at all, then, we were always happy and free.

Aftertastes

Some years ago, I came to Iloilo for a number of reasons. Yet, none of them is the fact that I would have to enjoy, among others, the food in this part of our country.

Rather overrated for their many “firsts,” the Ilonggo are food-loving people; and may I say, they are food-eating people. The Ilonggo just don’t love the food; they also eat with gusto, which is not very much different from the culture of the people in Bicol where I grew up.

Through the years, I must say I have come to love Iloilo food. In fact, my palate has not craved for more, because some Ilonggo dishes only remind me of those I have also tasted savored & relished back home.

Bakareta

I first ate bakareta in 2005, when a fellow high school teacher suggested after our morning classes that we order it for our lunch from a lutong bahay in Magsaysay Village in La Paz. I found it was not different from our very own inadobong baka. After all, bakareta is the combined form of baka and kaldereta, both terms and dishes we also have in Bicol.

I always enjoy bakareta’s tender beef and gravy, which I suppose should not be too much. One day, when my father-in-law put just pepper into the tenderest beef he must have bought from Super (Iloilo’s largest public market), I could only utter ohhs ahhs & mouthfuls of praises. Holy cow. The treat was unforgettable.

Laswa

Around the same year, I was introduced to láswa (soft a in the second syllable), a sticky hodgepodge of okra, kalabasa, beans and some leafy vegetables like saluyot or (if budget permits, pasayan or shrimps and dayok, or small shrimps). While the viscous dish is because of the okra, I relish the soft squash and the nutritious tastelessness of the leaves that this dish offers. 

Every time I eat laswa, I think of my liver my heart & my lungs being able to breathe rejuvenate & renew after I have eaten tons of peanuts or indulged in lechon or fastfoodstuff (Stuff is the right word for all fast food since they just stuff you with salt sugar & spice and other hardly soluble ingredients). I am grateful with laswa because I become aware how the leaves roots & fiber would help absorb douse or wash down the oil salt & sweets accumulated in my system.

For the supply of greens, Bikolanos would put ugbos kamote (young camote leaves), okra, or other tender leafy vegetables over the simmering rice. Or we cook them in other ways. While Bikolanos have no laswa, with its exact ingredients and cooking procedure, we enjoy kettlefuls of vegetables which are best cooked with small fish or smaller chunks of meat in ohhsome coconut milk (gutâ) or else. Besides the regular sili or labuyo, I wonder where else we would get the gusto for everything without the gutâ?

Paksiw

In the 1980s, my mother used to ask me to buy paksiw from Tiya Deling who owned a nearby carinderia. A classic bestseller in those days, the Bikol paksiw is virtually sinigang na baboy with lubás leaves that flavor and douse off the porky smell of the pork. But one day in Iloilo, I was surprised when a friend ordered paksiw and was given some small fish onioned peppered & soaked in langgaw, their homemade vinegar. There, I found out that Iloilo’s paksiw is Bicol’sinón-on, where ginger or garlic is used to douse the fishy smell of the fish. I sip inon-on’s gravy that is langgaw that comes in any paksiw treat as long as it is not onioned. We hardly used onions for inon-on (these two words are almost anagrams); otherwise, it would really smell different. Or inonions.

In Bicol, ginger or lâya best douses the smell of any fish, except perhaps pági or patíng, with which bigger aromatic leaves like lubas (libas) or ibâ (kamias) are cooked. Whenever I am treated to paksiw or whenever I cook inón-on myself, I make sure there is more gravy or vinegar. If not, I set aside something from the dish which I could fry later. Sure, once I cook it in little oil, the small fish soaked cooked & intimated in langgaw would become crunchy mouthful of stories to tell.

Aftertastes

Some years ago, I came to Iloilo for a number of reasons. Yet, none of them is the fact that I would have to enjoy, among others, the food in this part of our country.

The Ilonggo are food-loving people, which is not very much different from the culture of the people in Bicol where I grew up. Through the years, I must say I have come to love Iloilo food. In fact, my palate has not craved for more, probably because some Ilonggo dishes only remind me of those I have also tasted savored & relished back home.

Bakareta
I first ate bakareta in 2005, when a fellow high school teacher suggested after our morning classes that we order it for our lunch from a lutong bahay in Magsaysay Village in La Paz. I found it was not different from our very own inadobong baka. After all, bakareta is the combined form of baka and kaldereta, both terms and dishes we also have in Bicol.

I always enjoy bakareta’s tender beef and gravy, which I suppose should not be too much. One day, when my father-in-law put just pepper into the tenderest beef he must have bought from Super (Iloilo’s largest public market), I could only utter ohhs ahhs & mouthfuls of praises. Holy cow. The treat was unforgettable.

Laswa

Around the same year, I was introduced to láswa (soft a in the second syllable), a sticky hodgepodge of okra, kalabasa, beans and some leafy vegetables like saluyot or (if budget permits, pasayan or shrimps and dayok, or small shrimps). While the viscous dish is because of the okra, I relish the soft squash and the nutritious tastelessness of the leaves that this dish offers. 


Every time I eat laswa, I think of my liver my heart & my lungs being able to breathe rejuvenate & renew after I have eaten tons of peanuts or indulged in lechon or fastfoodstuff (Stuff is the right word for all fast food since they just stuff you with salt sugar & spice and other hardly soluble ingredients). I am grateful with laswa because I become aware how the leaves roots & fiber would help absorb douse or wash down the oil salt & sweets accumulated in my system.

For the supply of greens, Bikolanos would put ugbos kamote (young camote leaves), okra, or other tender leafy vegetables over the simmering rice. Or we cook them in other ways. While Bikolanos have no laswa, with its exact ingredients and cooking procedure, we enjoy kettlefuls of vegetables which are best cooked with small fish or smaller chunks of meat in ohhsome coconut milk (gutâ) or else. Besides the regular sili or labuyo, I wonder where else we would get the gusto for everything without the gutâ?

Paksiw

In the 1980s, my mother would ask me to buy paksiw from Tiya Deling who owned a nearby carinderia. A classic bestseller in those days, the Bikol paksiw is virtually sinigang na baboy with lubás leaves that flavor and douse off the porky smell of the pork. But one day in Iloilo, I was surprised when a friend ordered paksiw and was given some small fish onioned peppered & soaked in langgaw, their homemade vinegar. There, I found out that Iloilo’s paksiw is Bicol’sinón-on, where ginger or garlic is used to douse the fishy smell of the fish. I sip inon-on’s gravy that is langgaw that comes in any paksiw treat as long as it is not onioned. We hardly used onions for inon-on (these two words are almost anagrams); otherwise, it would really smell different. Or inonions.

In Bicol, ginger or lâya best douses the smell of any fish, except perhaps pági or patíng, with which bigger aromatic leaves like lubas (libas) or ibâ (kamias) are cooked. Whenever I am treated to paksiw or whenever I cook inón-on myself, I make sure there is more vinegar. If not, I set aside something from the dish which I could fry later. Sure, once I cook it in little oil, the small fish soaked cooked & intimated in langgaw would become crunchy mouthfuls of stories to tell.

Democracy: Philippine Style

When subjected to social criticism, Philippine democracy seems to be more ideal than real because of the economic gap between the few who are rich and the many who are poor. When viewed from the social, economic and historical perspectives, it is apparently less than acceptable.

We Filipinos believe that our government must have a positive impact on our lives. For example, the poor believe that one of the roles of a democratic government is to alleviate their living conditions, but if ever change is presently taking place, it is going on at a snail’s pace, hence its impact cannot be felt, if at all.

Today, we have politicians who are self-motivated, but who are also private interest-motivated; they serve their own interest at the expense of others, most often the exploited poor in the rural areas. This is where the need for change is truly felt. The search for the honest committed public servant is on, but is he around in Philippine politics?

Sitio Baybay, Barangay Santiago,
Barotac Viejo, Iloilo
April 2006

Today more than ever, we need a government that shall uphold a true and Filipino-oriented democracy. To some extent, the Philippine conditions depicted in the mass media do not portray the real picture. This might be so because the pictures created are products of perceptions rather than scientific investigations and research. In these forms of mass media, the pulse of the masses is not felt. The disparity between perception and reality is reflected in the alienation of the few who go by opinion as contrasted with the many who go by experience. Why not go down to the level of the majority—the rural and deprived areas where disenchantment and discontent about many things are strongest?

Despite the many shortcomings of Philippine politics, we are still a nation, united and strong against inequity and injustice.

The masses have no need for politics but what they need is an answer to their grievances and frustrations. Does the Philippine democracy we have now give freedom to every citizen? Or is it rather what they call political culture? One that gives central and crucial role to the politician.

While it is fashionable to call politics as a disease in our national life, we must face the fact a majority of the people depend on the government for their well-being. The political culture, therefore, must permit and encourage the use of political figures for a decent purpose. For one, accessibility is the measure of political success. Politicians must perceive accurately the welfare of their constituents and try to serve them well.

But in most cases, politicians regard the idea of democracy as personalized and individualistic instead of populist. Right now, it is the minority who are concentrated in the middle class who favor the political culture. Politics has been institutionalized to promote their personal and economic interest  rather than the welfare of the majority. Unless a change takes place, politics will remain the world of the few who are able to manipulate everything in their favor.

Portions adapted from Eleuterio G. Bernardo’s “Democracy: Philippine Style,” Panay State Polytechnic College Faculty Forum 1 (2): 4, 10. Mambusao, Capiz: Panay State Polytechnic College, 1989.

Orog Nang Gayo Su Nangangaipo

Edvard Munch [1863-1944], "Scream," 1893

Ba’guhon an pirmi mo nang ginigibo. Sarong pambato sa sobrang pagha’dit iyo an paghali kan pagkalangkag.

Mag-relax. Planuhon an mga ulubrahon kag sundon an tinalaan kun nuarin matatapos an mga ini. Gibuhon muna an mga dapat na enoton. Magtagama nin panahon sa trabaho; magtagama nin panahon sa kalingawan.

Magpakalingaw. Magtagama nin dugang na panahon para sa kalingaan na igwang kamanungdanan.

Maging maogma. Ugalion na magkadlaw. Makakagian sa mga kagabatan an pagngisi—urog na kun makakadlawan mo an sadiri mong problema.

Magpanumdom sang mga bagay na nakakaogma. Dai pagrimposa an mga natabo’ na. Mag-isip nin magayon para subong kag sa kinaagahon.

Ipakipag-ulay sa iban nga tawo an imo nga problema. Dai ni madudula kun sasadirihon mo sana.

Dai mag-isip nin kun anu-ano. Orog na marhay na lingawan mo tulos an wa-ay pulos—kag ilista bala basta maninigo an mga ulubrahon na mapuslan.

Likayan an grabeng pagpanumdom pag-abot kan sinarom. Basta maninigo, dai na nanggad ribukon an isip pag-abot kan hapon o banggi. An sobrang pagpanumdom, o pagha’dit pagdatong kan oras na ini—laban-laban, makakapurisaw saimo, na orog na makakadugang sa imo nga paghina’dit.

Magturog nin bastante—makakapatibay ni kan imo nga lawas kag makakapabalik sang imo nga kusog kag mayad na pag-iisip.

Magtagama nin makatutubod na ma’wot mapangyari sa buhay mo. Digdi, kaipuhan mong midbid mo an sadiri mo. Huna-hunaon an ma’wot mong maabot pagkalihis kan saro, tulo, o lima ka tuig magpoon ngonyan. Tagamahan an sadiri kun nuarin maaagum an ma’wot na mapangyari.

"Pan'o Malilikayan An Sobrang Pagha'dit"

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon [kag Espanyol] dangan Kahulugan kan Mga Ini sa Bikol

nga, conj. na

pambatô, n. pansagang, panlaban

ulubráhon, n. gigibuhon

kag, conj. sagkod, saka, tapos

kalingáwan, n. kalingaan

magpakálingáw, v. maglinga

kádlaw, v. ngisi

makakádlawan, v. mangingisihan

magpanúmdom, v. mag-isip, isipon

sang, conj. nin, kan

natabô, v. nangyari, natapos

kinaagáhon, n. (maabot na) aga

ibán, pron. iba

ímo, pron. saimo

madudulâ, v. mawawara, mahahali

kag, conj. sagkod, tapos, dangan

wa-áy, adj. mayo, dai

pulos, n. kamanungdanan, kabuluhan

balá, adv. really

mapuslán, adj. igwang kamanungdanan

pagpanumdom, n. pagparaisip

labán-labán, adv. magsala, poco mas o menos

bastante, adj. tama sa pangangaipo

mayád, adj. magayon, marahay, magayagaya

ka, conj. na,

maaagúm, v. makakamit, maaabot

Susog sa Nutritional Guidelines for Filipinos: Tagalog. Food and Nutrition Research Institute. Department of Science and Technology. 1991. World Health Organization. Regional Office for the Western Pacific.