Songs of Ourselves

If music is wine for the soul, I suppose I have had my satisfying share of this liquor of life, one that has sustained me all these years.

All this time I have savored the timeless ballads of Matt Monro and Carpenters, have drunk much rock of say, Queen and Juan de la Cruz Band, which I have grown to love, or sometimes sipped from the modern R&B and acoustic alchemy concocted by younger songwriters and singers like Ogie Alcasid  and Ne-yo. My favorites range from chanteuse Grace Nono to Paul Potts to Patsy Cline to Rico J. Puno, and the alternative Labuyo to Richard Clayderman.



Such sense of music has been influenced by people around me and people whom I grew up with—my mother, sister and brothers—my family, or better yet, our clan who sang and danced our way through life, now and then drinking from own cups.



I

How and why I have grown to like music—like every human being perhaps—I owe first to my mother, who must have adlibbed the best melodies only for me to sleep the cold nights of being left without a father. After my father’s demise, my mother’s melodies must have sounded more like elegies being sung by a widow who now as a single parent, had to fend for six growing children.

 


One evening, Mother told me a story of how she had to sing Victor Wood’s “Teenage Señorita” when she was being recruited for a sorority in college. I could only imagine she sang it in the corridors of Burns Hall where I first saw my very own teenage señorita Cecile Naldo, a bubbly DevCom major from Iriga who would sing the melodies of Celine Dion like an LP after our Biology class. The Celine Dion connection did not materialize much—just when my Cecilia’s singing of “If You Asked Me, Too” ended.


Mother loved Nat King Cole that whenever Manoy played “Stardust” and the rest of his collection nights after supper in Bagacay, the Banat household would be filled with her voice that sounded like it’s tiptoeing the corners of the house.


Her singing voice would delicately hit the right notes but contained “a certain sadness” that perhaps even Astrud Gilberto must have never known. Manoy recorded Cole’s collection on tapes—along with those of Carpenters and Pet Shop Boys—through our cousin Manoy Ynos’s stuff in Manila during his engineering board review in 1991.



One cool Sunday afternoon in 1993, Mother introduced me to Jerry Vale, when we were enjoying the coolness of the folding bed in our sala at siesta time. We listened to Vale’s “If You Go Away” being played on an AM radio program on the Sharp radio which Manoy bought upon her request.


She was perhaps singing away the moment thinking how to sustain in the following week her four sons studying in Naga—or perhaps she was humming away her gratitude that she was supporting only four students in the city. I and my sister stopped schooling that year.



Some seventeen years later, Mother’s swan song would be one graceful and heavenly melody, inspiring everyone in her last rites about how one single parent had weathered all odds through the years to make the best of all her six children.



II

In our brood of six, Manoy has biggest share of influence in each of us, younger siblings. While Ano and Alex also strutted their way to get our nerves equally break-dancing to the tunes of Michael Jackson and his local copycats towards the mid-1980s, Manoy’s influence in the rest of us has been indispensable.


Being the eldest, Manoy held the possession of the phonograph like the Two Stone Tablets, where the songs being played later became the sibling’s anthems. From the phonograph, everyone came to love Mother’s favorite trio the acoustic “Trio Los Panchos” whose pieces did not sound different from her aunt Lola Charing’s “La Tumba” number which she would sing during clan reunions. While Yoyoy Villame’s rpms would be played alternately with Baby Jane and Tarzan’s yellow plaka, it would be the “Santa Maria” chorus which would ring more in my memory. 

Yet, the phonograph music would last only until the time when there would be no way to fix it anymore after Manoy dropped it one day when he was retrieving or returning it from the cabinet which should have been out of our reach.

Everything else in the family’s long-playing collection had escaped my memory—I would be too young to even know how to operate the phonograph. We chanced to retrieve some of LP discs in the 90s after a long list of typhoons; I could only help my brother Ano in placing them on the walls as decoration. And they certainly looked classic there—like memories pasted on the wall for anyone’s immediate recollection.


Not long after, Manoy would be addicted to tapes that he would bring in a new recorded record of many artists in the eighties. The eighties was a prolific era--with almost anything for everyone.  On his  boombox and other sound gadgets, Manoy played Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Heart, Sade, America and Tears for Fears, among a million others.


He recorded songs while they were played on FM stations on the radio. It was his way of doing things. It was his way of cheering the household up--he played music when he would cook our food--his perennial assignment at home was to cook our food. He played music on the radio anytime, everytime that Mother would usually tell him to lower down the volume.



III

Creativity or art has never escaped my second eldest brother Ano’s keen senses. In the eighties, Ano did not only have a record of break-dance tunes in their high school days in BCAT—he also made an unforgettably cool tape jacket which became a bestseller among the siblings. While Ano and Alex break-danced to their hearts’ content, we younger siblings could only look at them in amazement, later adopting their moves to our own sense of enjoyment and thrill—wherever and whenever we found avenues for it.


This time, our anthems were now being played over the Sanyo radio, the family phonograph’s successor. Mother must have acquired it through a loan presented by lending businessmen whose special offers lured a number of public school teachers in Bagacay.

Ano loved the popular music, collecting pinups from song hits of say, Gerard Joling and mounting them as frames in our sala, as if he were a familiar cousin of ours. Of course, he maintained a collection of his tapes perhaps apart from Manoy's growing collection of recorded stuffs and original albums.

 

 

IV

Then, there was a time in our lives when music would not ever be sung for a long time. Nothing demoralized us more than being poor that music must have been forgotten as pastime—as growing young adults, our needs were more of corporeal rather than spiritual—"survival," not "theatrical."


I believe when someone in a movie said that nothing impoverishes the spirit more than poverty itself. Who would not be crushed by the fact that there was not just enough to sustain ourselves? Mother’s income had never been enough so that each of us had to hum our own melodies to sing our way through our days.


But just like wine, music’s soothing properties worked wonders. While the rest of us must have found avenues to continue singing their lives, brother Alex’s quiet and restraint was music itself. In him, we would not find so much loud melodies or even singing—because such countenance solicited friendship in cousin Bong, Auntie Felia’s eldest son who played and paraded the music of the eighties like soul food. With Bong, Alex’s sense of music has been sharpened—finding their voice in the groovy and still danceable and angst-ridden mid-eighties.


Later, Alex's tight-lipped restraint significantly found its voice in the sociopath Kurt Cobain and icons of the grunge era, among others. This was the time when Bong studied medicine in Manila, while Alex pursued engineering in UNC. Nothing better could have captured his sense of isolation than the pieces of Metallica, Guns and Roses, Bon Jovi and other intimacies which he now shared with new found frat brother Nanding, our landlady’s son in Diaz Subdivision.



After 1996, reverting back to the jukebox pieces was necessary for Alex to mingle with the crowd of fellow boarders working in the busy economic zone in Laguna. After all, Michael Learns to Rock, Rockstar and Renz Verano, for instance, could certainly help bring him back to the old Bagacay, which he sorely missed.  Alex would romance rock ballads even after he has established his own family in Laguna.

An Mga Ribongribong Sa Bagacay

Kun sain ako nagdakula—duman nag-iristar, nagralakaw-lakaw, asin nagurukit nin kadakul-dakul na memorya sakuya an nagkapirang mga ribongribong. An mga agi-agi sagkod buhay-buhay kan mga tawong ini kasing pamoso kaidto ni Mr. Moonlight sagkod ni Zimatar.

Haros sa kada zona kan Bagacay igwa nin turikturik. Atid-atida baya—sa Zona 1, Iraya, si Jim; sa Zona 2, Baybay 1, si Ness; sa Zona 3, Baybay 2, si Pax; sa Zona 4, Parada, si Eric; sa Zona 6, Banat, si Joe. Dangan igwa pang duwang dayo—si Gelyn na magsalang
taga-Buyo, taga-Cut 12; sagkod si Bulldog na minsan taga Zona 4, 5 or 6, o minsan nakakaabot sa Naga kalalakaw hali sa Kinali.

SI BULLDOG A.K.A. BULLS AQUINCE
Siisay an dai makakabisto ki Bulldog a.k.a. Bulls Aquince? Kun pararabas ka sa bisita pag ma-fiesta na sa Bagacay, pirmi mong mahihiling si Bulldog sa may Triangle o sa kun sain gigibohon an Amateur Singing Contest. Para sa mga organizers kan contest—kun sain
nanggana an tiyaon kong si Manay Lisa ta’ kinanta niya an “Even If” ni Jam Morales sarong mainiton na hapon—si Bulldog iyo pirmi an pwedeng mag-front act o minsan natao kan kulang na intermission number.  

Sa anuman na tiripon sa barangay, siya an masasabi tang life of the party—ta’ siya “pa-oonrahan” kan mga organizers—na magkanta kan saiyang mga favoritong covers—“Boulevard ng Pag-ibig” o mga Rey Valera classics—o minsan dai. Kun maboboot an mga organizers, siya makanta nin Tagalog o English song, all in tattered outfits [basa: bara’ba an maong na pantalon, kurupas sa pirang bulan na mayong karigos, an parong
dai mo maintindihan o pero minsan maiintindihan mo—sabi ngani kan iba—“kargadong alungaang”—] tapos kun masuwerte siya, matata’wanan man nin kun anong consolation prize kan mga aki kan kapitan dangan duduhulan man nin litson sa libod kan Irmano Mayor sa may Pantalan.

Bako man talagang dakilang tambay si Bulldog. Siya garo sana sarong bisita kan kada harong kaidto. Ini man an istorya na naisabi na sana man sako kan tugang kong si Nene. Pinahawan daa ni Mama si Bulldog sa natad mi para tandanan pagkatapos. Natapos man gayod si paggabi niya pero ginuno niya sa sarosarong atis na bunga sa may natad mi. Nagutom na siguro pagkatapos maggabi kaya kinua si prutas dangan kinakan. Ano pa
garo naanggot saiya kaidto si ina mi [siguro ta’ dai man lamang nagpaaram]. Sa ina kong sarong maestra, kasa’lan nang gayo an siguro simpleng bagay. O tibaad para sa ina ko, si Buls gayod sarong normal na tawo. Siguro man gusto pa giraray tukduan ni Mama an
paragabi nin Good Manners and Right Conduct [GMRC]. Baad nagibo ni kan ina ko ta’ estudyante niya dati si Bulls—anong aram ko? O ‘baad exchange student sa Bagacay Elementary haling Buyo o Kinali. Magayon makaulay si Bulls ta’ sa pag-uulay nindo
mahihiling mo an pagkakaiba mo saiya. M aririsa mo na ika mas turikturik palan kaysa saiya. Kun sinusugot mo siya, o iniiinsulto kan kasingbata’niyang mga kaakian mga hoben sa kun sain haraling zona sa Bagacay, mahihiling mo man nanggad na sinda, an mga nagsosogot saka nagtutuya-tuya—bako si Bulldog—an mga rungawrungaw. An dai aram kan mga rungawrungaw na ini an turik na si Bulldog naiintindihan an saindang mga
katurikan. Tama. Siguro tinataram niya puro daing kamanungdanan—ta’ turikturik baya’ siya—kaya an makikiulay saiya kaipuhan maging turikturik man. Pero ano man baya an aram ta kun ano an laog kan halipot daang pag-iisip na ini?

Ta’ diyata sinusugot ta siya o dinudurulagan—dai pigtatratong normal ta’ aram tang “he’s out of our league” o “He doesn’t speak our language”. Pero mas makangirit baga kun maaraman mong mas dakul an katurikan kan ibang mga tawo sa palibot kaysa sa
sarong arog ni Bulls.

SI JOE, SARONG HENYO
Bistuha nindo si Joe, kadto daa sarong matalion na estudyante na—dakul nagsasabing si Joe, si Lena Upan, sagkod si Jim kabilang sa saro sanang batch sa Bagacay Elementary School kaidto. Sinasabi nganing an batch na ini iyo an golden batch kan eskuwelahan dahilan sa tolong henyong ini na nagkasarabay mag-iriskuwela sa satuyang alma mater. Kun dai ako nasasala, sinda na-under-an pa kan sakong mga magurang na parehong
nagtukdo sa eskuwelahan na ini—pero ini saro pang dakulang hapot na an mismong mga gurang sa Bagacay an makakasimbag sako. 

Pag bangging bulanon—ini bakong iri-istorya sana kundi totoong istorya man nanggad—an ngisi ni Joe hali sa may bintana nindang capiz makakapangirabo man nanggad
sa siisay na aking gusto man magluwas mag-iba sa Aurora pag nag-agi na pasiring sa Banat. Dai man nang-aano si Joe, yaon sana siya sa may bintana, naghohorop-horop, garo iniirisip man an mga gabos na nag-aaraging kairiba sa prusisyon—mga mag-irilusyon na
nagmimirilagro sa likod, mga kantorang sirintunado sagkod garo gurutom na an boses, mga butalnak na paralak-palak na sa inutan kan andas dara-dara dangan kinakarawatan an mga karabang giribo sa daso’.  

Bako lamang siyang maribok. Dai ko lamang siyang nadangog magtaram nin kun ano. Maski makasabay ko pa siya pagsakdo nin inuman na tubig sa bombahan kan mga
Bañas perang beses, mayo siya nin girong. Dakula an tulak ano pa naapod logod siya nin Bundat, katamtaman an langkaw, mataba, maitom, si Joe mayong girong pero dakul ginigibo. Mahihiling mo pa siya minsan masimba nin Domingong aga sa kapilya, puwerte an bulos, kaiba an ina niya. Tapos diretso uli sa harong ninda. Pag hapon, mahihiling mo na lang nagluluon nin mga lapang dahon kan mga star apple sa libod ninda.

Pirmi akong natatagalpo kada mahiling ko si Joe. Kan sadit pa ako—huna ko nangkukua siya nin aki tapos tinatao sa niya sa mga magibo nin tulay ta’ duman bubunu’on tapos an dugo ninda iyo an pinapanhalo sa sementong ibubuhos para daa maging pusog an tulay. Ngonyan na nahihiling ko pa siya, ginigibo an dati niya nang ginigibo—sa hiling ko an gabos na takot na idto mayo nin basehan. Sa kahaluyi kan panahon, na nakiagi man ako sa libod ninda pagsasakdo ko nin inuman.

An silencio ni Joe garong nakapagpamondo man sana saiya. Ano man daw an nasa isip niya kun nagdudurulag kami parayo saiya ta’ aram ming siya si Joe? Baad gusto man sana kaidtong makiulay pero mayong nagrarani siya ta’ turikturik ngani daa siya. Ano man daw an namamati kan sarong arog ni Joe? Siguro nasobrahan daang adal o basa, sabi kan saro kong kaklaseng taga-Banat, mayo siyang ibang makulay kundi sadiri niya. Ano man daw an namamati niya kun rinarayuan siya nin kadaklan na normal na tawo? Siguro namomondo siya. O mas nabubuabua ta’ mayo nang nakikiulay saiya, apuwera kan pirang tawong aram na puwede man siyang kaulayon siring sa sarong normal.

SI JIM, SARONG ERMITANYO
Si Jim sarong parasira na taga Iraya. Sarong heartthrob kan kapanahunan niya—an dungo sa mestizo, an mata sa Intsik, nakasulot pirmi nin itom na T-shirt—bara’ba’, dangan an short na maong na tinarabas—mayong kapareho an style niya nin huli ta’ an barungot niya tugmang-tugma sa mga tursidong rinaralayog kan duros pag na-lakaw na siya sa may
tinampo. Fashion model an lakaw ni Jim—dawa bara’ba an saiyang bado. May tindog kumbaga; tapos an lakaw niya, saiya lang talaga. An pagbaya’ kan wala niyang bitis
sa toong bitis, mayo nin kapareho. Lean an hawak ni Jim, an itsura niya mayong pinagkaiba sa mga Shaolin Master sa nadadalan mi sa Betamax kaidto ka Auntie Felia. An buri niyang kopya bara’ba man. Fashion-wise, consistently elegant sagkod stylish an su’lot ni Jim. Totoo—maati siyang hilingon ta’ an itsura niya garo pirang aldaw nang dai nagkarigos pero dai ka—ta’ minsan an itsura niya—garo pirming bago siyang karigos.

Dai ko pa nabakalan si Jim kan sira niyang tinitinda pero nahihiling ko siyang nagpapara lakaw-lakaw na garong linilibot an barangay—minsan nakapamulsahan sa maong niyang shorts, nakaduko na garo kadakuldakul siyang iniisip—kadakuldakul an saiyang iniisip na dai mo siya makaulay ta’ okupado baya an payo niya. Minsan nasabatan ko siya kaidto—dai ako natakot maski ngani aram kong turik daa siya. Palibhasa dai man nang-aano;
dai ako nagdalagan parayo o nag-iwas saiya. Daradakula na man kaya palan ako kaidto, pero nahiling ko na man kaidto na maboot si Jim. Serene and composed kumbaga.
Kayang darahon an sadiri. Garo ermitanyo an hiling ko saiya kaidto, maski ngonyan. Ibang klaseng ermitanyo ta’ kairiba siya kan mga tawo.

Pag nag-aagi siya sa may parada, dai man napupugulan kan mga tawong hilingon an itsura niya, dangan an mga gurang masarabi sa mga pastidyong aki, “Hala, kun dai ka mapondo, ipapadara ta’ ka ki Jim. Kukuanon ka niya, kaya alo na.”  An aki pusngak pa pero aram na niya an pagkatawo ni Jim. Nungka pa man maipalaiwanang ni Jim sa saiya na ‘baad man sana iba an iniisip niya.  
Matino siguro si Jim. Haloy-haloy nang panahon arog siya kaiyan—parasira, paratinda nin
sirang pigpangkehan—nakakaraos man na mabuhay. Digdi ta mahihiling na maski an mga turikturik dai ligtas sa ekonomikong realidad—na kaipuhan magtrabaho ta nganing igwang kakanon—mag matino ka o mag tinurik ka man. Puwede mong masabi na kaya si Jim naturik ta’ dai niya maako an realidad na an ibang mgatawo mayayaman—nakaistar sa mga garo simbahan na mga harong—pati an saindang mga gadan—ilinulubong sa mga
harong na garong mga subdibisyon. Makabua bagang maray.

AN MAYONG PAGAL NA SI PAX
Sarong hoben [pero an itsura niya gurang na] na lalaking taga-Baybay na may Down’s Syndrome, iba man an itsura ni Pax sa mga inaapod na mongoloid. Siya maitom, dakulang lalaki, wi’wi’ an nguso, may su’lot na bandana, nagpaparasakdo nin inumon na tubig sa
Burabod para sa mga taga Baybay.

Siya sarong oripon na may dignidad. Dai mo sana maaraman kun pirang litrong tubig siguro an utang saiya kan mga taga babybay na nagpapasarakdo saiya sa Kalye Maribok. An padyak niya na tinauhan kan mga partidaryo niyang mga Nacorda iyo an pinapansustinir niya sa solo solo niyang buhay. Magngalas ka man nanggad kun mas may kaya si Pax ki Bulldog, dawa ngani mas hagbang asin purusog an hawak ni Bulldog saiya.

Si Pax magalang, nagbibisa sa mga gurang, nakikikawat sa mga aki, maski ngani pigpapara-rawrawan si Pax kan mga mas buang daing karakarigos na mga kahobenan sa
Triangle. Pirmi man nagsisimba sa kapilya kun Domingo. Pero kan naging bihira na an misa sa Bagacay ta’ an barangay daa sabi kan padi sakop pa kan mas dakulang parokya kan Manguiring, arog kan ibang parasimba sa Iraya, nagkararaya na man sana dangan dai man nanggad maibalik an dating numero kan mga nagsisirimbang Katoliko. Masakit man siguro kun mapa-Manguiring pa si Pax para sana magsimba. An hadit kan partidaryo niya
dai mo man masimbag.

SI ERIC A.K.A. KABAKAB
Kun ki Eric mo maibabagay an kasabihan na “Aki pa, gurang na; gurang na, aki pa,” saiya mo man giraray masasabi na “an aki kun pag dakula aki pa man giraray an pag-iisip sarong biyaya sagkod grasya hali sa Mahal na Diyos.”

Naka-pajama, nagraralaway, sagkod mu’riton an lalawgon, kulot an buhok, birilot magtaram pero sige sanang taram ta’ dai man pula. An mga pinsan kong
babayi an durulag pirmi pag nagdadalagan na si Eric, nagpaparapanhapag nin babayi para man sana suguton. Pero pag-inanggotan man kan gurang, napapakiulayan man
baga. Palibhasa aki pa kaya dawa ngani tinedyer na man.  Kaidad ko sana si Eric—kuta na mag-aaagom na man siya ngonyan na mga taon. Minsan pa ngani pigsusurugot
mi sinda na ipapadis mi Ki Eric kun dai mauruli sa harong pag oras nin orasyon. Si Eric nagbibisa sa mga gurang, nagtataong-galang sa anuman na tiripon kan mga gurang—lamay sa gadan, novena ki Santa Maria, o miski maprusisyon para ki San Antonio de Padua.

Arog kan ibang mga aki—minsan ngani bakong arog kan ibang mga aki diyan—si Eric bibong aki. Daing palta siya kaiba an ibang kaakian—nagchachacha o nagirikid-ikid sa baylihan sa sinasabayan an “Ice, Ice, Baby” o “You’re My Heart You’re My Soul” kan Modern Talking, o kun ano man na disco tune ni Ken Laszlo kaidto. Siempre pagal-pagal na man si Eric kababayle bago pa man magsaraksakan an mga dayong taga Tigman o Mananao sa laog kan baylihan sa Triangle. Dai man ako mangalas kun pati ngonyan, sinasabayan pa ni Eric an Destiny’s Child o Black Eyed Peas pag pinatugtog sa bagong baylihan sa covered multipurpose hall sa pantalan. Arog na sana kaiyan an pagka-sociable ni Eric.

Nasasabotan ni Eric an kultura kan Bagacay—sa kahaluyi kan panahon natuod na man siya sa mga Katolikong ritwal kan mga gurang sa barangay. Nahihiling an biyaya nin Diyos sa arog niya kun mahihiling mo siyang nagpapangadyi sa kapilya kun Domingo—kaiba kan saiyang mga magurang. O minsan sa Flores de Mayo kan lolahon ko, amay na amay pa yaon na sa atubang kan altar, may darang mga gumamela, kanda, o manlaen laen na
burak—arog nin iba pang aki. Ogma na pagkatapos kan pangadyi sagkod rosaryo, an tandan na galleta, tanggo, o sopas na maaskad bastante na sa kaogmahan kan aking arog niya. Naggugurang na an hawak ni Eric pero dai naghihira an pag-iisip niya. Sa prusisyon pag fiesta, kun yaon siya sa baylihan kan bisperas, pagkaaga yaon man siya sa prusisyon para sa patron—minsan may darang kandila o minsan naiinot sa gabos na nag-puprusisyon, garo bagang siya an giya [marshall] kan paganong ritual na ini. Sa mga
religious activities, pirmi nang mas perfect attendance si Eric kaysa sa ibang mga aking kairidad niya.

Si Eric produkto kan sarong kulturang Bikolano, Katoliko, relihyoso, sagkod pilosopo. Nakua niya an bansag na Kabakab sa saiyang ama—na nabansagan kan gabos na tawo sa barangay. Sa lugar man lang na ini nakukua niya an ugaling parasogot, para-po’ngot,
pasaway. Sinosogot siya kan konduktor ni Magan kun maagi siya sa pantalan, hinuhubaan kan mga hoben na parabasketbol hali sa Triangle, pig-iiwal kan mga aking habo siyang paayunon sa turubigan sa may tinampo. Aki baya, namamana man sana ni Eric an
kaanggotan sagkod an kakanosan kan kinaban. Sa komunidad man lang na iniidong-idongan kan saiyang halipoton na pag-iisip nakukua niya an mas halipot—ta’ abaanang kakipot kan—pag-iisip na ini. 

Kaipuhan niya man nanggad maging kabakab—sarong talapang na mahalnas, mabilis, sagkod maulyas—nganing makalukso siya parayo sa mabatang lapok na iniistaran
niya na iyo an Bagacay.

AN BABAYING SI NESS
An gayon kan babayi nahihiling sa pagdara niya kan sadiri sa tahaw kan mapantuyaw na komunidad—sa lugar na an lalaki na sana an kagdaog. Si Ness nagtitinda nin sira sa entirong barangay—mahihiling mo siyang naglalakaw luto-luto an nigong may laog nin la’bas na abo, langkoy, o minsan balaw. Nakapalda, maniwang, maitom, mahimpis an hawak—nagtitinda nin sira si Ness pag mahapon na.

Pero dai ko pa lamang siyang nadangog na nagkurahaw sa mga tawo para ialok an tinda niyang sira. An aram ko, pag yaon na siya nagdadangadang sa mahiwas na tinampo
sa Bagacay sa may highway pasiring sa may eskuwelahan, aram na na siya may tindang sira sa luto-luto niyang nigo. Minsan si May Biday an natatangro kan pirang atadong abo o pagotpot, kaya lugod an mga Buban, mga Belga, sagkod mga Panis presko an kosidong pangudtuhan pagkatapos magsaramba na Joshua sagkod ni Dorcas sa Protestanteng kapilya sa Banat.  

Kun may bagyo, an payag payag ni Ness harani sa may baybayon binabayo kan duros na garo baga sarong baraha sa ta’ta’ na pig-iiriwalan kan limang gurang na parasugal sa Iraya—dai pusog an nipa sagkod an posteng coco lumber. Haros iralayog an mga latang atop. Pero pagkatapos kan bagyong uminagi sa Bagacay, mahihiling mo si Ness sarong aldaw naglilibot nin sira—nagtatangro sa mga kataraid, para may maisira sa saindang kakanan.

O minsan daa, pagkatapos kan bagyo, madadangog si Ness kan mga kataraid na nagkakanta—magayonon an boses, sa ralabot nang harong, sa inaratong nang kasangkapan sa harong, yaon sana diyan—nagkakanta. Dai mo aram kun
siya nag-oomaw sa Diyos ta dai siya naatong asiring sa dagat, o tibaad linalamuda an duros sagkod an uran. 

SI GELYN, AN BABAYING NAKAPULA
May sarong Lady in Red na an pangaran Gelyn. Kun ta’no inapod ko siyang lady in red—maiintindihan nindo ngonyan. Sarong hapon, kan ako sinugong may bakalon na mirindalan sa tindahan na Bago, dai ako nakadagos sa may triangle ta’ yaon daa duman si Gelyn, nagpapasali, o napaparataram. Ano pa naghikap ako sa may tindahan na Lola Mimay sa atubangan na Agor. Takot-takot ako ta’ dai ako makakaagi sa Triangle. Habo kong mahiling si Gelyn ta’ ‘baad ano an gibohon sako. Dai ko na matandaan kun nakadagos ako sa bisita. An aram ko sana an takot ko ki Gelyn daing siring na sana—ta’ garo
pati naiimahinar ko an mata niyang burulakog nakahiling sakuya na garo ako kakakanon.

An aram ko si Gelyn hoben pang babayi na nakasulot nin makokolor na bestida—dati gayod na maputiputi pero nagparaitom na sana ta’ sige sana daang lakaw hali sa
bukid pasiring sa maski sain sain. Mayo na akong nadangog pang iba manongod saiya. Kan ako nagdakula na, dai ko naman siya nahihiling.

Siring kan Dose Pares, mga CAFGU sagkod CHDF, si Gelyn basang na sana man nawara sa Bagacay. Garo mayo ka na man madangog manongod saiya. O arog kan ibang mga dayong negosyanteng nagtirinda sa Triangle kaidto tapos nagkawarara na sana kan kasagsagan kan mga Dose Pares saka mga nagroronda sa mga NPA, hain na man daw
si Gelyn ngonyan?

Sa gabos na mga buhay kan mga tawong ini, an deskripsyon na “halipot na pag-iisip” para sa sarong turikturik sarong misnomer, o salang pag-apod sa mga arog nindang nagkasarambit asin an mga dai ta’ pa mangaranan na mga turikturik na nagparalakaw lakaw sa magayonon, madoroson, asin mahiwason na Bagacay kun sain ako nabuabua kadudulag, kakadalagan parayo sainda. Aki pa ako kaidto. An paghiling ko sainda
mayong pinagkaiba sa paghiling ko sa mga mumu pag banggi na sa may Banat, na naghaharapag sakuya pag sinusugo akong magbakal ni bitsin para sa kinusidong
abo’ ni Manoy. An dai ko aram kaidto—sa pagdulag ko sainda ta’ ako aki pa—nagdulag ako sa sarong posibilidad na puwede man sanang gibohan nin paagi tanganing ma-apreciar o maintindihan.

“Ta’no daa ta’ dai na man sana daa pabayaan an mga turikturik na maging turikturik?” Pati privacy man ninda dai na lamang daa ginagalang—nin huli ta’ sinda turikturik na, iyo na yan sinda kaiyan—dai mo na man daa dapat pang ilangkaba sa intirong komunidad na sinda man nanggad turikturik. Igalang na man daa dapat an pagigi nindang turikturik. Mas kapakipakinabang gayod na itratong tama an mga turikturik kan mga tawong mas matitino. Kun dai, an mas matitinong tawo an totoong buabua.

Sa sarong kanta na pigpapara-interpretar nin ribong [ribong na] beses kan mga contestants sa Miss Bagacay, Miss Tinambac, Miss Hinagyanan, o Miss Karangkang, o maski gayod Miss Cadlan, an parakanta naghahapot, Sinong dakila?/Sino an tunay na baliw?/Sinong mapalad? Sinong tinatawag mong hangal?/Yaon bang isinilang/Na an pag-iisip ay ‘di lubos/O husto an isip/Ngunit sa pag-ibig ay kapos?

Iyo man nanggad, ano? Sarong dakulang katurikan na an talento na puwedeng ipahiling kan sarong magayon na daraga iyo man daa an magbinua. Apuwera kan magkakan
nin kalayo, o magsapa’ nin bonot, bako na man gayod talento an magpanggap na dai ka man daa bua, bakong iyo?

Siisay pa man daw an mas bua sa sarong daragang taga-Irayang nagpabados sa may agom nang taga-Baybay? Siisay man nanggad an buabua? An closet na bakla na
nan-abuso kan saiyang sobreno? An kuraptong kapitan? An kagawad na igwang sambay sa Tigman? O an pusikit na palpal sagkod parasugal na Irmano Mayor?  

Sa saiyang Madness and Civilization, nabuabua an sarong Pranses na si Michel Foucault sa kasasabing an mga turikturik bako an mga bata’ kan sarong komunidad kundi iyo an biktima kan mga kapalpakan kaini. Kun sa Europa kan mga panahon sagkod ngonyan, an mga turikturik priniriso—kinurulong ta’ sa hiling kan matitinong gobyerno mayo sindang lugar sa publiko—sa Bagacay an mga turikturik nagkairibahan kan mga normal
na tawo—asin ta’ an mga taga-Bagacay iyo logod naapektuhan, nagkaurulakitan kan kakapayan ka mga turikturik na ini.

Halimbawa, an mga aking arog mi nagdarakula bagang tarakot saindang mga persona.  Saradit pa kami—tinatarakot kami kan mga turikturik na garo dai man, kan mga multong marayo man. Nungka kami sinarabihan na an mas likayan iyo an kapitan na gumon
sa ilegal na mga aktibidades sa barangay. Na dapat mas paghandaan an madadayang paratinda nin alang sa talipapa’. Na dapat mas likayan an mga adik na rinarasyunan nin shabu sa Baybay—o mga NPA na puwedeng mag-aragi sa likod kan harong mi paduruman sa Katangyanan pagkatapos i-salvage an sarong informer na nagbalik-loob na. Sala baga an itinurukdo samuya.

Hinarabon na sa mga lumbod ming isip an posibilidad na an turikturik mas maboot sa normal na tawo. An trabaho mi iyo an halion an salang pagpagamiaw na ini. Iyo ni
an nakapagpogol sa mga ideya mi, sa mga isog ming kaipuhan lalong lalo na ngonyan na mga panahon na kun bako kang maisog o desidido sa sarong bagay—mayo kang
magigibong kapaki-pakinabang sa buhay mo. Dangan interesanteng pagparausip-usipon ini ta’ sa kahaluyi kan panahon mayo sa sainda an ipinaintriga man lamang
sa sarong mental institution. Ma-bilib ka sa mga kapamilya ninda ta’ dai man lamang o winaralat sa kun sain an saindang tugang, aki, tiyuon o hijado na aram
nindang igwang diperensya an pag-iisip.“He aint heavy; he’s my brother” sabi ngani kan sarong folk song—tama, nin huli ta’ kadugo ko siya, dai ko siya puwedeng
pabayaan o ipaubaya na sana sa ibang tawo. 

Sa Bagacay naipagamiaw sakuya na an kinaban kan mga turikturik sarong kahiwasan nin pagkadakuldakul na posibilidad. Sa mga buhay-buhay kan mga arog ni Joe, Gelyn, Jim,
Bulldog, Pax, asin an riboribo pang ribongribong sa Bagacay, dakul na mga bagay an puwedeng mangyari—dakul an puwede tang mahiling, puwede tang madangog, puwede
tang masabi, asin—magtubod ka sa dai—puwede tang maintindihan.

Songs of Ourselves: Fragments

If music is wine for the soul, I suppose I have had my satisfying share of this liquor of life, one that has sustained me all these years.

All this time I have savored the timeless ballads of Matt Monro and Carpenters, have drunk much rock of say, Queen and Juan de la Cruz Band, which I have grown to love, or sometimes sipped from the modern R&B and acoustic alchemies concocted by younger songwriters and singers like Ogie Alcasid and Ne-yo. My favorites range from chanteuse Grace Nono to Paul Potts to Patsy Cline to Rico J. Puno, and the alternative Labuyo to Richard Clayderman.

Such sense of music has been influenced by people around me and people whom I grew up with—my mother, sister and brothers—my family, or better yet, our clan who sang and danced our way through life, now and then drinking from own cups.


I
How and why I have grown to like music—like every human being perhaps—I owe first to my mother, who must have adlibbed the best melodies only for me to sleep the cold nights of being left without a father. After my father’s demise, my mother’s melodies must have sounded more like elegies being sung by a widow who now as a single parent, had to fend for six growing children.

One evening, Mother told me a story of how she had to sing Victor Wood’s “Teenage Señorita” when she was being recruited for a sorority in college. I could only imagine she sang it in the corridors of Burns Hall where I first saw my very own teenage señorita Cecile Naldo, a bubbly DevCom major from Iriga who would sing the melodies of Celine Dion like an LP after our Biology class. The Celine Dion connection did not materialize much—just when my Cecilia’s singing of “If You Asked Me, Too” ended.

Mother loved Nat King Cole that whenever Manoy played “Stardust” and the rest of his collection nights after supper in Bagacay, the Banat household would be filled with her voice that sounded like it’s tiptoeing the corners of the house.

Her singing voice would delicately hit the right notes but contained “a certain sadness” that perhaps even Astrud Gilberto must have never known. Manoy recorded Cole’s collection on tapes—along with those of Carpenters and Pet Shop Boys—through our cousin Manoy Ynos’s stuff in Manila during his engineering board review in 1991.

One cool Sunday afternoon in 1993, Mother introduced me to Jerry Vale, when we were enjoying the coolness of the folding bed in our sala at siesta time. We listened to Vale’s “If You Go Away” being played on an AM radio program on the Sharp radio which Manoy bought upon her request. She was perhaps singing away the moment thinking how to sustain in the following week her four sons studying in Naga—or perhaps she was humming away her gratitude that she was supporting only four students in the city. I and my sister stopped schooling that year.

Some seventeen years later, Mother’s swan song would be one graceful and heavenly melody, inspiring everyone in her last rites about how one single parent had weathered all odds through the years to make the best of all her six children.

II
In our brood of six, Manoy has biggest share of influence in each of us, younger siblings. While Ano and Alex also strutted their way to get our nerves equally break-dancing to the tunes of Michael Jackson and his local copycats towards the mid-1980s, Manoy’s influence in the rest of us has been indispensable.

Being the eldest, Manoy held the possession of the phonograph like Two Stone Tablets, where the songs being played later became the sibling’s anthems. From the phonograph, everyone came to love Mother’s favorite trio the acoustic “Trio Los Panchos” whose pieces did not sound different from her aunt Lola Charing’s “La Tumba” number which she would sing during clan reunions. While Yoyoy Villame’s rpms would be played alternately with Baby Jane and Tarzan’s yellow plaka, it would be the “Santa Maria” chorus which would ring more in my memory.

Yet, the phonograph music would last only until the time when there would be no way to fix it anymore after Manoy dropped it one day when he was retrieving or returning it from the cabinet which should have been out of our reach.

Everything else in the family’s long-playing collection had escaped my memory—I would be too young to even know how to operate the phonograph. We chanced to retrieve some of LP discs in the 90s after a long list of typhoons; I could only help my brother Ano in placing them on the walls as decoration. And they certainly looked classic there—like memories pasted on the wall for anyone’s immediate recollection.

Not long after, Manoy would be addicted to tapes that he would bring in a new recorded record of many artists in the eighties. The eighties was a prolific era--with almost anything for everyone. On his boombox and other sound gadgets, Manoy played Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Heart, Sade, America and Tears for Fears, among a million others.

He recorded songs while they were played on FM stations on the radio. It was his way of doing things. It was his way of cheering the household up--he played music when he would cook our food--his perennial assignment at home was to cook our food. He played music on the radio anytime, everytime that Mother would usually tell him to lower down the volume.

III
Meanwhile, creativity or art has never escaped my second eldest brother Ano’s keen senses. In the eighties, Ano did not only have a record of break-dance tunes in their high school days in BCAT—he also made an unforgettably cool tape jacket which became a bestseller among the siblings. While Ano and Alex break-danced to their hearts’ content, we younger siblings could only look at them in amazement, later adopting their moves to our own sense of enjoyment and thrill—wherever and whenever we found avenues for it.

This time, our anthems were now being played over the Sanyo radio, the family phonograph’s successor. Mother must have acquired it through a loan presented by lending businessmen whose special offers lured a number of public school teachers in Bagacay.

Ano loved the popular music, collecting pinups from song hits of say, Gerard Joling and mounting them as frames in our sala, as if he were a familiar cousin of ours. Of course, he maintained a collection of his tapes perhaps apart from Manoy's growing collection of recorded stuffs and original albums.

IV
Then, there was a time in our lives when music would not ever be sung for a long time. Nothing demoralized us more than being poor that music must have been forgotten as pastime—as growing young adults, our needs were more of corporeal rather than spiritual—"survival," not "theatrical."

I believe when someone in a movie said that nothing impoverishes the spirit more than poverty itself. Who would not be crushed by the fact that there was not just enough to sustain ourselves? Mother’s income had never been enough so that each of us had to hum our own melodies to sing our way through our days.

But just like wine, music’s soothing properties worked wonders. While the rest of us must have found avenues to continue singing their lives, brother Alex’s quiet and restraint was music itself. In him, we would not find so much loud melodies or even singing—because such countenance solicited friendship in cousin Bong, Auntie Felia’s eldest son who played and paraded the music of the eighties like soul food. With Bong, Alex’s sense of music has been sharpened—finding their voice in the groovy and still danceable and angst-ridden mid-eighties.

Later, Alex's tight-lipped restraint significantly found its voice in the sociopath Kurt Cobain and icons of the grunge era, among others. This was the time when Bong studied medicine in Manila, while Alex pursued engineering in UNC. Nothing better could have captured his sense of isolation than the pieces of Metallica, Guns and Roses, Bon Jovi and other intimacies which he now shared with new found frat brother Nanding, our landlady’s son in Diaz Subdivision.

After 1996, reverting back to the jukebox pieces was necessary for Alex to mingle with the crowd of fellow boarders working in the busy economic zone in Laguna. After all, Michael Learns to Rock, Rockstar and Renz Verano, for instance, could certainly help bring him back to the old Bagacay, which he sorely missed. Alex would romance rock ballads even after he has established his own family in Laguna.

Summer

Quiet, calm afternoons bring me back to my afternoons in our old house in Bagacay. To avoid the baking heat of the rooms, I often lay down on the canopy of our rooftop, safe under the eaves. There, I fell asleep until a cooler breeze from the backyard of the Absins, our neighbors who owned the house at the foot of the hill, woke me up. The late afternoon was the best time to linger, then someone from the house, Mother, brother, or sister, called me for an afternoon treat of linabunan na batag or gina’tan.

Flores de Mayo

Susog sa Obra Ni Clemente S. Manaog,
Mio Hermano Intimo
Agosto 2007


Bagacay, 1942

Kan si Rafael San Andres mga pitong taon pa sana, dahil naman gayod sa kahisdulan, igwang nakalaog na crayola sa saiyang dungo. Mga pirang aldaw an nag-agi, mala ta maski ano an gibohon kan ina niyang si Visitacion, dai nanggad mahali-hali an crayola sa dungo kan aki.

Kan bulan na iyan, Mayo, igwa nin pa-Flores si Visitacion sa saindang harong sa Iraya. Dawa na ngani gayod makulugon ang dungo, nin huli ta igwa baya nin tandan na sopas na tanggo saka galleta an mga  aki, nagbale sa Flores si Rafael.

Sa saday na harong ni Visitacion, an mga aki minadarara nin mga sampaguita, gumamela, dahlia, dahon nin cypres na ginurunting na saradit. Maparangadie muna an mga gurang mantang an mga aki nakaturukaw sa salog. Dangan maabot sa cantada an pagpangadie ninda sa Espaniol. Dangan maabot sa parte na an mga aki masarabwag kan mga dara nindang burak sa altar ni Inang Maria. Magkapirang beses masabwag an mga aki nin mga burak segun sa cantada.

Sa mga pagsabwag ni Rafael kan saiyang mga burak sa altar, basang na sanang tuminubrag hali sa dungo niya an crayola. Nagparaomaw si Visitacion asin daing untok na nagpasalamat sa nangyari. Nin huli man sa nangyari, nangayo-ngayo si Visitacion na gigibohon kan pamilya an Flores de Mayo sa masurunod pang taon bilang pasasalamat sa pagkahali kan crayola sa dungo ni Rafael.

Poon kaidto sagkod ngonyan, pinapadagos kan pamilya ni Visitacion San Andres an saiyang panata na dae mababakli ni isay man. Hasta ngonyan, tinutungkusan kan pamilya San Andres an pasasalamat kan saindang mga apoon, patunay na binibisto kan tawo an karahayan kan Mas Nakakaorog.

O, Clement, O, Loving, O

Remembering Clemente T Manaog [1910-1986]

Today I remember--some twenty years ago--my father's father who succumbed to a lingering illness he had had for a long time.

Some two decades ago today, our eldest brother Manoy Awel, along with Uncle Berto's eldest daughter Manay Gina, stood long hours for him in his deathbed.

Then, our entire family went to Iriga to pay our respects and last homage to the dead. Despite the warm company of our cousins and relatives, which must have overwhelmed the souls of our dear departed, I recall the sad mood--being left with no grandfather or father all together.

In more ways than one, Lolo Ente was our refuge. Mama frequently sought help from him especially in the most challenging days of solely bringing up her six children. Quite a feat for our mother, really. Clemente's son Manuel died in 1978, some eight or nine years before he himself left this world.

Clemente Taduran Manaog--born in 1910--said to belong to a lineage who pioneered clearing the land and "started civilization" in barangay Banao in Iriga City most probably even before it became a city--was a farmer whose simple and humble life lived with his equally magnanimous wife Rosario Monge Cepe, had not failed to inspire their seven children to strive hard and succeed in their chosen fields.

Clemente's two sons became members of the police and the military--Uncle Idong and Uncle Edmundo; four became public school teachers and servants--Auntie Cita and Adang Ninang, my Uncle Berto and my father Manuel; while his second eldest son Uncle Milo followed his own footsteps as a farmer.

I remember my grandfather's simple, dark but cozy room where he stayed in 128 Banao, Del Rosario, Iriga City. It was part of the ancestral house where the clan would gather and feast on exotic food prepared by the "iron chefs" of Banao. Such priceless moment is always something to go back to. Someday. Someday.

During vacation days, Lolo Ente would visit Bagacay from Iriga and bring us to the sea after visiting the tomb of my father. After prayers and rituals in my father's tomb, he would take us to swim in the beach near the cemetery, a familiar place I would later call The Sea House.

I remember how I was once thrown to the water along with my cousins, but I managed to swim up to where Lolo Ente was. The water looked dark and abysmal--it was blurred but warm. Young as I was, I was too afraid to swim that the experience had not been enough to make me learn to swim sensibly at all.

During his visits to Bagacay, Mentz, Nene and I would show Lolo Ente our good papers in grade school--from grade one until 1985 or at that time. He'd be so happy to look at them. In fact, he would really get our class papers graded "100%" or "Very Good" in exchange for a particular sum of money.

Although this would be enough to send us to Lola Mimay's store where we would buy balikutsa and Burly, it is interesting to know what he would do to these purchased products. Lolo Ente would use our papers, these precious proofs of our outstanding performance in school as his toilet paper.

Most of my Writing papers under Mrs. Cornelio must have ended up with Lolo Ente's moments catering to his call of nature. Very well earned, indeed. Interesting that our lives as "businessmen" already started when we were young.

I just want to stop writing here or else I would really want to cry. So long for a grandpa's life well lived with his orphaned grandchildren.

I can just wish I could retrieve Lolo Ente's last letter to mother written in two or three pages of tablet paper which he sent through Manoy Awel some twenty years ago.

If I can just recall it right, Lolo was very much saddened by our poor situation back in the Bagacay house--where his son's widow, our mother, the sole parent of six growing children, scrimped and scrammed just to make ends meet. Just to make ends meet.

But I suppose the same letter also came with a half sack of rice or so and other fruits or crops which were harvested from the old man's farm where he toiled with his own blood, sweat and tears for his grandchildren who were far away from him.

The old man must have missed them dearly as much as he must have badly missed his son Manuel, their father who was gone too soon, too early.

Clemente's son Manuel's college graduation picture, Mabini Colleges, Iriga City, 1965

But as they say, God's time is never our time. So I just repose and say--all things must have happened for sensible purposes--and everything happens right in God's own time. In his time.

May God bless your kind, loving and warmhearted soul, Lolo Ente.

Eternally.

Amen.

      

Cancion Kan Taga-Bagacay

I

Mga aki sa Bagacay kun dai nag-iiriskwela,
minsan nagkakarawat, o nagkakara-karanta

Kaibahan kan mga magurang ninda
Sa radyo maghapon dangog nin drama—
Mayo na gayod hahanapon pa ta gabos yaon na—

Presko an duros, nag-uuran sa may harong
Magurang, pinsan, kahoy, mga dahon

May ayam, may ikos, may orig sa tangkal
Pagkatapos kan lumlom, may init an saldang,

Pag bakasyon, may aurora, o pabayli,
Pag habagat o aya-ay, may pabiga', pasali.
 
Sa pamilya, magayon an iribanan,
Mayong turuklingan; nagkakairintindihan;

Nag-iirinuman—pag naburat, bagsak;
Pag dai nakabangon, kabaong.

Urutangan, siringilan, murulestyahan,
Minsan sirilyakan ta’ dai nagkakadarangugan

Pero maugma ta’ abang prangka
Mayo kitang masasabi ta’, basta.

An kalbo pugo man giraray;
An kawayan butong man giraray;

An mga aki mayong kalson man giraray.

An may buhok nabubulugan man; an nagtitinda nabebentahan;
An nalilipot naiimbongan; anuman na mainit nayeyelohan;
An naglalantuag nakakauli man; an may helang inaaswang.

An siisay man na gutom nagkakakan—
Kun bakong gina'gang karne, mahamis na ginatan;

Mirindalan pinakro, bulgur, sinuman;
Pulutan, kutsinta, kun ano na sana man.

 
II

Sa sugalan, mga gurang tiripon lalo na kun hapon,
May nagtitinda pang sitsaron; sa tindahan, mamon.

Sa binggohan, kadaragahan o may mga agóm urumpukan.
An mga aki sa magurang aba anang pakinabang—

 

Sa laog kan harong, o sa tindahan,
Linilibot an lahot hanggang sa simbahan.

An putong tinitinda uurutangon;
Mauli an aki sirisingko an gugom; Nom!
Bagas na pamanggihan mayong tutungudon.

An mga omboy makunswelo man
Nahulog sa hagyan, nabakros an laman;

Kun mayong tipdas, kinukumbulsyon,
Kun bakong lugadon, maniwangon;

Garo mga talapang; mga tulak darakulaon—
Urugmahon dawa gurutom.

Mga daraga kapot an komiks maghapon
Mga soltero pugapo, sugpo papabakalon,

An mga ama sa pantalan maghapon—
Baggage o labor sa lantsang pa-Siruma-hon,
Bani, Popoot, mga biyahe pag sinárom.

Pag-uli kun hingaw, problema yaon;
Kun burat, iiwalon an agom;
An masaway magurang o tugang kan agóm.

Pag nagkakurulugan, harabuan;
Malayas, mabuwelta; may nalingawan na kwarta,
An mga aki dara, et cetera.

III

Maestrang sa high school bakasyon na, dai pa nag-uli ta’ siya
Saka estudyanteng taga Iraya nagkairintindihan na;

Nagkairiyuhan, mayong napugulan; pag uban-uban, turuytuyan,
Burunuan, harandaan; mga abay paturuyatoy sa simbahan.

Pero dawa arog kaini, Marhay an buhay ninda digdi—
Nakangirit kadaklan sainda; sa saro, dai ka magsuba-suba
Ta’ pag napasala ka, nya! Pasensya!

Hali sa dagat an bahod dangog-dangog
An mga parasira biyong nag-aaranggot

Ta’ mayong pasayan; tikong an nadakop
Sa Mauban mauran; dakulaon an bahod.


An langit sa bukid abang lumlom
An bagyo yaon na daa sa Quezon

Tapuyas sana man daa,
Pero nagsasalimagyo na baga!

Pag nagbaha na, dai ka magluwas
Kun habong maingas o mabasa nin tapuyas;

Ta’ pag maanayo, masakit ipatawas;
Mahal; an presyo kan bulong makangalas.

Kun aya-ay na, an banggi malipot;
Mayong niisay man na naaanggot—

Paraoma, sungo an hakot; parasira, saklay an hikot;
Mga aking sinusurugo pag banggi, tarakot;
An tinampo mahalnas; sa harong mapulot.

An lugar na ini habong halian ta’ marhay an pagkakan
Maski ralabot an istaran nakakaraos man.

Basta butog an tulak an isip daing hugak
Mayong maraot ta’ dai ka maaanggot.


IV

Kun pista, urugma; o dawa Kwaresma
May salabat o galleta an nagpapabasa.

Mga ilaw kan poste pundido daa
Pero naglalaad kun aga, baterya
Pag banggi na nauubusan daa—

Kaya madiklom, malipot
Sa harong an agóm maimbong;
Daing kasing na’góm.

Sa pag-agi kan aldaw
Pu'on kan santol minarambong
Kaya sa harong madoot, madahon;
May hinilunuhan kun maation—
An sawa pag nadakop, asalon;
Pag tinuka’ ka, kinyentoson.

Magsalang basog, gutom;
Kun bakong mataba’, helangon;
Kun mayong agóm, poro’ngoton;
Kun daraga, nakaporma;
Kun daragang gurang man, nakasaya;
Kun mayong sambay, relihioso;
Nin huli ta Hermano, politiko.
 
Digdi samo sa Bagacay
Ordinaryo an buhay, simpleng maray—

Mayong gayong problema
Apuwera kwarta, kun tinitikapo na.

Daing kaartehan, mayong lilikayan
Mayong aalanganan, mayong aralanganan.

‘Tell Me Your Name, You’re Lovely, Please Tell Me Your Name’

Neil Romano. Donna Bella. John Paulo. Raphael Francis. Maita Cristina.

I wonder how my cousins and my own brother think—or feel—about their names. 

Each of them was given two beautiful names, but they would just be called   one name—either their first or their second name.

In fact, they have also been called other names. Neil Romano (born 1969) later became Neil. But affectionately, to us he has always been “Áno”, a diminutive of Románo.

 From Donna Bella (born 1973), they chose Donna. But then again, it has always been “Nang-nang”—with her younger siblings, too, being called Ding-ding, Kling-kling and Don-don, who have since called her “Manangnang”— most likely from “Manay Nang-nang”.

 Also, John Paulo (born 1978), named after the pope, became only Paulo—but fondly now, “Pau”.

 Raphael Francis (born 1980) became Francis. But fondly, too, he has always been “Pangkoy” to us.

 And Maita Cristina, born 1985, yes, on a Christmas Day, became simply Maita, cleverly drawn from that of our lola, Margarita.

Why is it that despite the two names given to people, there is always one active name that replaces them—most likely the one that their parents or their folks chose or still gave them?

 Of course, there’s a story behind each name—about how they were named but I’m sure there’s a juicier story of how they were also nicknamed—or how that single, active name came to be and has been used ever since.

 Did you notice that only in Mexican soap operas—and later Filipino telenovelas—can we hear two names being seamlessly, rather dutifully, used when they are addressed, as in: “Maria Mercedes”, or “Carlos Miguel” or “Julio Jose”?

“Mara Clara”. What did you say—“Maria Clara”?

 Of course, there are exceptions. Take the case of Von Carlo. Or Sarah Jane. Or Lyn Joy (Wow… I cannot think of a sweeter name than this.)

 But each of these two-name names is already too short to be cut further or even dropped. In fact—easily they can be turned into one: Jennylyn, Genalyn, Ednalyn. Julieanne. Maryanne. Carolyn. Carol Lyn?

 Or Larryboy. Or Dannyboy. Dinosaur (from Dino Sauro?).

 So is it for brevity, then? After all, I think that first names are tags (as in katawagan and therefore pagkakakilanlan) of persons, so does it really help that they are short, as in monosyllabic? The shorter or the faster the register, the better—is that it?

 Others are also given three first names or more, as in: Jose Francis Joshua.

 Allen Van Marie. Francis Allan Angelo.

 Maria Alessandra Margaret.

 Why? They are so named because their parents want to honor their folks—aunts, uncles, grandparents and great-grandparents by giving them a string of their names.

 In the case of some Jose Felicisimo Porfirio Diaz, a.k.a. Bobong, who was named from his uncle and great-grandfather, we could easily guess what happened here. The kilometric name just didn’t really sit well—probably pissed his other folks off, who then argued with his parents but luckily agreed and settled for a simpler one: Bobong!

 How about Jose Antonio Emilio Herminigildo? Sounds like two persons already. Takes a lot of effort.

 So why do parents name their children the way they do? How do they (come to) do it? Are they inspired by their personal heroes? Idols? The stars of their own lives?

 Personal heroes? I already said that. So, there.

 Parents name their children based on inspiration—to immortalize not only their origins, their parents but also their aspirations and ideals.

 Then again, some of them name their offspring to immortalize only themselves: Romeo Agor I, Romeo Agor II, Romeo Agor III, etc. Just like royalty.

 But seriously, I admire how people in the past were so beautifully named—by being given only one name:

 Emiliano. Why is this name so beautiful? It doesn’t evoke sadness. Neither does it invoke anything unattractive. It doesn’t mean a lot of things but itself.

 Margarita. Of course it means something based on its origin. But I choose to look past its etymology and just see it as it is.

 Why do these four-syllable names sound so beautiful? They’re not magical; they’re just beautiful to hear. They do not mean a lot of things but themselves.

 They’re just perfect.

Each of them has four syllables so that when you say them, they sound like two names already in modern parlance, each with two syllables.

 

So while some parents worry about giving their children two or three names or even more, I think that they overlook the beauty of giving their child one, single name. As in:

 

Ofelia.

Salvador. Edmundo.

Antonio.

Camilo. Alberto.

Rosita. Or Zenaida.

 Really here, simplicity is beauty.

 Hearing these names or reading them on the page, I seem to hear or feel the wish of the parents when they so name their child with just one name, as if to speak of their only wish for them in life.

 It’s like: one name, one wish—only goodness and nothing else:

 Flordeliza.

Dorotea.

Isabel.

Lydia.

Romana.

Teresita. Liduvina.

Imelda. Angelita.

Agaton.

Aurelia. Alma.

Gina. Amelita.

Belen. Delia.

Inocencio.

Mercedita. Zarina. Maida.

Carmelita. Belinda. Elisa.

 Emma.

 For me, giving them more than one name means something else altogether. “Maria Teresita” sounds overdone. “Luz Imelda” might work—sounds good—but not as plainly as just, “Imelda”. Then, honestly, “Roberto” or “Francisco” sounds better than “Francisco Roberto”. I don’t know why.

 I also wonder why a four- or five-syllable name sounds strong. Intact or solid. Strong-willed.

 Bersalina. Bienvenido. Aideliza. Plocerfina.

 And why do these names with three syllables sound so wonderful? Macário. Terésa.

 Wait, Tibúrcio. Dionísia. Glória.

 Ramón. Rosalía.

 Why does it sound like poetry? Soledád. Like beauty? Rafaél.

 How often, too, through names, have we looked to the heavens for inspiration—invoking not only blessing but guidance in our lives!

 Anunciacion, Visitacion, Encarnacion, Purificacion, Asuncion, Coronacion—all derived from the mysteries in the Holy Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

 A Catholic boy may be named Resurreccion, obviously to invoke the Saviour’s triumph over death. Among many others, parents would choose it. For one, it sounds very much like Victor. Or Victorino. But Victorioso?

 And while others were named Dolores or Circumcision, why are there no women or men named Crucificcion? Obviously, because we do not want to dwell in the bad side of things.

 We do not want any association with the undesirable things like suffering or misery. Or death.

 On the contrary, naming your child Maria or Jose or Jesus—a very common practice—is more than reassuring; for you literally consecrate them back to the Creator, fully acknowledging Him as the only Source of all life.

 Manuel. Emmanuel.

 Manuelito. Manolito. Manolo. Variants of the same wish. Same aspiration. 

 Jose. Josue. Joselito. Joselino. Jocelyn. Joseline. Josephine. Josefa. Josette. It’s quite a different name, but the aim is the same.

 Mario. Marianne. Mary Ann. Mariano. Mariana. Marianita. Marion. Same invocation. Same prayer.

 Maria Emmanuelle.

Jose Maria Emmanuelle. Like Jejomar (Jesus, Jose, Maria or if you want, Jesus Joseph Mary.)

 Naming your child in this fashion is giving more than paying tribute to the Highest One. It is the noblest gesture you can make, the highest kind of praise you can give to God, as it were.

 And then—Rosario. Probably the holiest of all.

 Were Spanish names once highly favored because they are highly allegorical, connoting the good things life? As in—Paz (peace), Constancia (constancy), Esperanza (hope), Remedios (remedy) and Consuelo (consolation)?

 While boys were named Serafin or girls Serafina—after the archangels Miguel, Rafael and Gabriel became too common—I think no parent would name their child Querubin, probably fearing that he or she would be as childish as impressionable if not as vulnerable or as unfortunate. Probably there is—but that’s too uncommon.

 And if you name your children in your clan Dorcas, Jona, Joshua, Abner, Abel or Nathaniel—obviously you know your Bible well. It means you don’t just let it sit on the altar for ages. Clearly, you must have been inspired not just by the Good News, but the Old Testament. It’s just hard not to associate these names with people who lived in the past. Picking all these names simply reflects a religious sensibility.

 Well, naming your child Primitivo or Primitiva lacks knowledge on your part. The Spanish name must have been assigned by the colonizers to the natives out of disgust—without the latter knowing what it meant. How the given name had survived through the generations is simply puzzling.

 Well, the same fate will befall you if you choose Moderna, but why does Nova—also meaning “new”—sound more acceptable? Hmm. Is it because it’s now Italian?

 Why can’t we name our girls Jane Karen, or Joan Jennifer—five syllables. Obviously because each of these names is already solid or full by itself. But why does it work with Sheryl Lyn or Sarah Jane? Frank Daniel or Billy Joe? Or Kyla Marie? Lyn Joy (really, it’s just beautiful). I explained this already.

 While a co-worker back in Iloilo has well thought of naming their children Payapa, Sigasig and Biyaya, some literary sensibilities name their children really as a poet would title their poem, or as a novelist would call their magnum opus: Marilag. Makisig. Maningning.

 Lakambini. Awit. Diwa.

 Angela. Kerima. Priscilla. Mirava. Anya.

 Dulce Maria.

 But no writer in his “write” mind would name their beloved child Luksa or Dusa. Or Daluyong or Kutya or Dagsa.

 “Sofia” is a favorite—nobody would turn away or turn away from wisdom.

 Shakespeare. Ophelia. Cordelia. Miranda. Tibaldo. Mercusio. Very rare.

 Misteriosa? Well, some women are named Gloriosa. I know a Glorioso. But why not Misteriosa? Misterioso. Is it not stating the obvious?

 And unless she has gone crazy, no mother would pick Thanatos, Persephone or Hades from her memory of Greco-Roman history.

 Persephone has come to be Proserfina, or Plocerfina with a variant Plocerfida, still uncommon. Orfeo is a beautiful name for a boy—as it is sad. And Eurydice? You must be very morbid. Try Eunice—although later on, she will be called “Yunise” by the folks in your barangay.

 Naming her Venus or Aphrodite is fair enough. Just do not pair them for one person—or else.

 I know of a well-known family from the highlands whose children’s names are Athena, Socrates, and Archimedes. They hail from the upland Buyo, a sitio adjacent to our barangay Bagacay, where they must have not only witnessed but also created their own Mount Olympus. Amazing!

 I wonder why Nestor has even become very popular here locally, sounding even more Filipino when it is originally Greek. Homer is not, or Homar. But Omar? Omar is very common. Omar Shariff? Or Omar Khayyam?

 And why does Hermes sound so high-brow? Hermes Diaz. Hermes Rodriguez. Hermes Sto. Domingo. But why not Mercurio? The latter is an actual family name, not a given name.

 And why, too, are there more Socrates I know than Aristotle or Aristoteles? Certainly, I know nothing of Plato or Platon, except for an apellido.

 I know of some Teofilo. Or Diogenes. Theophanes (poetic one, here!).  But everybody must have not seen Aristophanes as a name in a list. Or Euripides or Anaxagoras. Or Pythagoras.

 One must be so careful with naming their child Hippocrates, the so-called father of medicine or Heraclitus, traced to be the father of history. These were two great names in worlds of the past, but here and now, a mistake in one syllable might create some quandary if not furor.

 I had a pen friend Minerva Cercado back in the 1990s. Hers is a beautiful name but I am afraid it does not sound good with all Filipino surnames. How about Minerva Diaz? Minerva Deserva? Minerva Seva? Minerva Raquitico? Minerva Ragrario. Hmm? Twists the tongue.

 There’s a guy named Delfin Delfin. And I am sure there must be Delfin Delfino. Based on the oracle of Delphi. (But why is Delfina pretentious?)

 If one were so steeped in Greek mythology, I wonder if she names her triplets or multiple births after The Furies, The Muses or the Fates.

 There’s one name I remember: Indira Daphne? Nicely paired. Wonderful. How snugly it puts together the Eastern and the Western sensibility. At least, it’s not Indira Gandhi—if she was so named by her parents (plus their surname), I wonder how she would measure up to that big name.

 Would you admire a father who’d name his child Psyche? Or would you say he’s out of his mind? Is he still sane if he adds Delia to it? As in Psyche Delia Magbanua?

 Maura. Chona. Lota. Why couldn’t I easily associate these names with anything pleasant—only something pleasurable? Ah, biases! Stereotypes.

 After all, names are just labels.

 That’s why some names are being picked so carefully—so as to reflect their parents’ sensibility. If it’s John Joshua, they are highly religious. Joshua Aaron, equally so.

 But nobody names their little girl Ruth Sara; it sounds redundant—both women were biblical and blessed. But put together, why does it not sound good?

 Peter Gerard? Acceptable. John Kevin? Pretentious.

 Kanye James Ywade? Are you out of your mind?

 Should we cry foul—how do we express concern about the names of children born through this pandemic? First name, Covid Bryant; surname, Santiago. Quarantina Fae Marie, surname de la Cruz. Shara Mae Plantita Diaz De Dios. Dios mio!

 The list goes on.

 Well, I know of a biology teacher who named his kids Xylem or Phloem, or something—and added to them a more common name. I think they’re still sane because at least, they didn’t go all the way naming them Stamen or Pistil or Chlorophyll. Or Stalk. Or Leaves or Photosynthesis. But obviously their Science teacher way, way back must have really made an impact on them.

 While Paraluman, Ligaya and Lualhati are popular native names for Filipinas, why don’t we have Filipino males named Lapulapu or Lakandula or Humabon? Clearly these are strong names! Is it the same as naming your boys Ares or Mars? What’s wrong with that?

 If it’s okay to be named Magtanggol, or Tagumpay or if you may, Galak—all positive names—why can’t we have Hamis, Sarap, or Siram or Lami when they sound just as appetizing as Candy, Sugar Mae or Dulcesima?

 Other parents are so enamored by popular girl names from television like Kendra, Kylie, Khloe—and all the Kardashians, but why aren’t they easily drawn to Georgia, Atalanta or Europa?

 Europa sounds so good for a girl’s name. Don’t you think? Asia? Wow! But why not Alemania or Venezuela? Or Antarctica? Or Australia?

 Africa.

 How about Filipinas? Why not Filipinas?

 Interestingly, a beautiful tall woman I met was named Luvizminda—and she is from Iloilo, yes, Western Visayas. Her parents clearly wanted to articulate the middle syllable “Visayas”, probably being Visayan themselves. It’s just original.

 I knew someone named Filipinas. Her parents were probably not content with Luzviminda as in Luzon, Visayas, Mindanao—counting each of the islands of our country.

 When they named her, were they rallying against regionalism, or lamenting the pointlessness of ethnicity? Were they protesting the divisiveness of their own people so they settled for the single, collective name of the archipelago?

 Did they really consecrate her to the country, the only Catholic nation in Asia—because it really means something to them? When she was born, did they wish for her to make it big, really succeed in life and lead the country more than Corazon Aquino—topple the patriarchy oligarchy tyranny (yes, in that order) and cure the ills of society?

 Maria Filipinas, is that you?

 Inang Bayan, let’s go!