Kristo sa Daghan

Igwang mga Kristo sa daghan an mga tugang mo.

Enot na enot, nagpoon sa magurang nindo an ining Kristo sa daghan—ki Manuel dangan ki Emma. Sa Kagurangnan, idinusay nindang duwa an saindong mga pangaran—bagay na nariparo kan saindong lolohon na si Ramon bago siya nagpaaram. Saysay ni Lolo Amon mo, mayo sa saindong anom na magturugang na an pangaran harayo sa istorya kan Kagurangnan sa Banal na Kasuratan.

Yaon ini malinaw sa matua nindong si Emmanuel, na an gustong sabihon, “Kagurangnan yaon satuya.” Sa panduwang pangaran na Neil Romano yaon an pundasyon kan saindong pagtubod asin kan saindong mga ginikanan. An panduwang kangaranan sa Alex Apolinario na iyo an saindong pantolo gikan sa búhay kan sarong santo. Dangan kangaranan kan sarong bayaning nagin panalmingan kan mga Pilipino.

An Clemente, kangaranan kan mga banal na lideres sa simbahan kaidto. Siring ki Rosario, an bugtong na tugang nindong babaye, pinangaran an saindang pagtuo kag pagsarig sa kapangyarihan kan pangadie sa paagi ni Santa Maria, an Iloy ni Hesu Kristo.

Dangan man an ngaran mo.

Sa saindo pa sanang mga pangaran, yaon na an krus sa daghan, an Kristo sa buhay nindo. Yaon an pagma’wot kan mga magurang mong gibohon kamong mga panalmingan kan kabo’tan kan Kagurangnan. Dinidekar kan duwa nindong magurang—sindá Manuel sagkod Emma—kamong mga aki ninda sa saindang dakulang pagtubod sa Kaglalang.

Dios mabalos ta saimong nariparo—na mismong an saindang mga pangaran, “Emma” kag “Manuel”—iyong gayo an duwang bahin kan “Immanuel,” an mismong pangaran kan Kagurangnan sa Hebreong pagtaram.

Tibaad nahiling kan duwa mong magurang na an pagsaro ninda asin kan saindang pangaran iyo an paggibo kan katungdan kan Diyos na Kaglalang. Dangan biniyayaan sindá kan saindong anom na búhay, na magpoon kadto sagkod na sinda man magtaliwan, idinusay sa pag-omaw sa Kagurangnan.

Ngonyan na sindang duwa mayo na digdí sa daga, yaon rinirimpos nindo sa búhay kan kada saro an saindang katukduan na mamoot sa kapwa asin magsarig sa Diyos na iyo an poon asin kasagkuran kan gabos na ginigibo digdí sa dagâ.

Sa siring na biyaya kan Diyos saindo, kag ngapit sa mga dalan kan búhay na saindong inaagihan, dai kamo maglihis o mawarâ.

Asin ngonyan na mga panahon, hinahangaan mo an mga tugang mo sa saindang mga nagkagirinibo, sa saindang mga ginigibo. Nin huli ta sinda nagigin panalmingan mo sa kadaklan na bagay sa saimong buhay. Nagpapadiosmabalos kang marhay. Sa búhay kan mga utod mo, yaon nahihiling mo an krus sa daghan kan kada saro sainda, an biyaya kan Diyos na Bathala sa duwa nindong magurang na ipadayon an saindang napu’nan sa tabang nin Kagurangnan.

Emmanuel. Yaon ki Manoy Awel mo an pagiging tiso, an kapas na magkulibat sa estado kan ispiritu mo; iyong gayo, enot niyang konsiderasyon an nasa saboot mo. Sarong bagay na an dakulang kahulugan, sa kapwa asin orog na saimong tugang niya, an pagrespeto.

Sa dakulon nang inagihan si Manoy mo, nahihiling mo saiya an sarong marhay na tawo. Sa dakulang harong kadto duman sa Libod, siya pinapaluhod sa asin o monggo kan saindong Lolo Emiliano ta ngani sana daang magtiso—kaibahan kan ibang mga tugang—na iyo, saiya nag-idolo.

Poon kaidto, nakanood sa pagpadakula kan Lolo nindo; natukduan magtaong-galang sa darakulang tawo, nakanood magpahunod sa saradit na tawo. Dahil kaiyan, yaon saiya an paggalang; an pagtao nin kusog sa kalag kan saiyang kapwa, orog nang gayo kadtong kamo entiro nang magkairilo.

Yaon sa saiyang daghan an ipadagos an pagsarang sa estadong pigdumanan. Saiyang tutungkusan asin susustineran an kapakanan kan kadaklan na saiyang pinu’nan.

Sa simpleng búhay kan maogmahon niyang agom asin mga kabuhan, yaon ki Manoy mo an kaogmahan.

Neil Romano. Nahihiling mo ki Ano an higos kan sarong tawo—yaon saiya an abilidad na magtabang dangan makapauswag bako lang kan mga mahal niya sa buhay kundi kan kadaklan. Siring ki Manoy mo, yaon saiya an pagma’wot na mataparan ano man na bagay na saiyang napu’nan.

Dangan yaon ki Ano an dai pagsagin-sagin na rimposon sana an mga namamatean kun an mga ini makakakulog sa kalag kan saiyang mga mahal sa buhay asin mga tugang. An pagpadangat niya sa mga nguhod na tugang, orog na sana man. Kan mga aki pa kamo, an turno kan Ina nindo saiya binabayaan. Araki pa kamo, siya na man an dakulang sarigan kan saindong magurang—nagmamanehar kan kapakanan kan kadaklan. Kaya sa saiyang mga aki, ipinapagiromdom, ipinapaarog an siring na kamalayan. Yaon, iyo ini, an biyaya kan Diyos na saiyang tinutubudan. Kaya na sana man yaon saiya an kaogmahan.

Alex Apolinario. Ki Irmanong Alex, mayo nin dakul na taram, kundi katiwasayan; bako man na pirming rarom, kundi baga kahulugan. Saiya, an magagayon na mga bagay sa kinaban igwang tamang kapanahunan, bako gabos na bagay tinataram ta nganing maintindihan. Bako na habo niya lang man nanggad magtaram, kundi na para siya tibaad yaon sa linong, yaon sa tuninong an hararom na kahulugan.

An simple niyang búhay ngonyan minapagamiaw saimo na tibaad bako gabos tinataram para maliwanagan. Yaon an katiwasayan—aram niyang an pagsakripisyo igwang balos na kasaganaan. An paglapigot, sa katapusan, nagiging kaogmahan.

Siempre sa tahaw kan ribok kan mga tawo, yaon an silencio kan tugang mong ini ho—bakong padalos-dalos kun siya magdesisyon sa saiyang ginigibo. Gabos na anggulo ririkasahon niya antes mag-abot sa pwedeng mapapangyari asin maginibo.

Tuninong, hipos na nagmamasid, dangan nakikidungan sa hulag kan banwaan, yaon sa saiyang daghan an biyaya kan Diyos na magtios dangan magpadagos magbaklay sa pinili niyang alagyan. Siya madagos-dagos asta makaantos sa saiyang papadumanan.

Clemente. Ki Mente, saboot mo, igwang orog na biyaya an magin nguhod na tugang kan nagkaerenot na tolo—yaon saiya an biyayang tiponon an gabos nindang ugali dangan isabuhay sa saiyang sadiring pakahulugan para sa saiyang kapakanan. Nagiging panalmingan niya an saindong mga matuang tugang.

Yaon ki Mente an pakikipag-ulian. Actualmente, minarhay niyang makauli dangan makapagpoon sa banwaan na saindong dinakulaan ta nganing maging harani sa pamilya asin mga tugang. Yaon saiya an paghadoy na kamong nagdadakulang pamilya pirming magkairibahan. Dawa kaidto pa, aktibo siya sa pag-urulian. Kun igwang tiempo haling Manila kaidto, siya mauli ta mauli ta ngani sanang kamo gabos magkanuruparan, magkairistoryahan. Mayo siyang panama sa pungaw sa siyudad—pirming an puso niya minabuwelta kun sain asin kiisay ini igwang lealtad.

Ki Mente yaon an pagkamatinao, an pagma’wot makatabang nang gayo sa siisay na nangangaipo. Iyong gayo an naiisip mo, sa ngonyan na mga tiempo, garong kandidato, nagpapanao nin kun ano-ano sa kada barrio—alagad pagmáte mo, an padangat mong tugang na ini ho, bakong pulitiko.

Sa eskwelahan sagkod sa barangay kaidto, natawan siya nin pagkakataon na magdalagan sa lokal na pwesto—alagad garo bagang dinehado. Duman siya nakanood na dai niya kaipuhan nin hagban na puwesto ta nganing matuod na magserbisyo—“to serve and not to count the cost,” nanu’dan niya sa sarong dating poderosong militar na an ngaran San Ignacio kan pagkaadal niya sa Ateneo. Garo nabasa na nindo an istoryang ini’ho. Iyo, tama an iniisip mo. Sa saiyang daghan, yaon si Kristo.

Yaon ki Mente an paggalang sa mga tawong nasa katungdan—an pagbisto sa kapasidad kan katungdan para sa kapakanan kan kadaklan; bako kan partikular na tawong yaon sa pwesto. Siring niya ngonyan na yaon sa gobyerno sa serbisyo publiko—siya ngonyan iyong tinutubudan, pighahagadan nin tabang, sinasarigan.

Rosario. Ki Nene mo, yaon an kaogmahan nindong magturugang. Yaon saiya an pakikipagsapalaran. Pagkaagom ni irmana mo dangan kan magpamilya na, nahiling mo saiya an isog kan sarong babaying igwang paninindugan. Sa sibot na siyudad na saiyang dinayo, nagpundar siya duman dangan nagpadakula nin pamilya—katuwang an saiyang mamomo’ton na bana. Nagdadakula an saindang pamilya dangan padagos na nagdadanay sa biyaya nin Diyos.

Yaon saiya an pagkamaginibo. Siring man nindo, sa ara-aldaw na ginibo nin Diyos, nagtatrabaho. Siring man saindo, nagseserbisyo-publiko, nakikiulay sa mga nangangaipo, sa maraming tao’y nakikitungo.

Dangan man an pagkamatinao. Dawa kadtong daraga pa sana siya—hugos nang entiro sa saiyang mga sobrena asin mga sobreno, napapaogma ining mga kaakian sa harong man o sa tinampo. An pagtabang sa tugang na natitikapo—yaon na gayo. An paghadoy sa arog mong nasasakitan garo niya na baga naging pangangaipo.

Siempre yaon saiya an pagkamainamigo. Sa dakul niyang naging amiga sagkod amigo—yaon an mga pinsan, mga kairiba sa kwarto, mga dating kabiristo—ngonyan siya asin an saiyang pamilya nakakapadayon, matiwasay na nakakadungan sa buhay sa siyudad na pano nin gamo.

Ngonyan sa saimong pagsosolosolo, nadumduman mo an mga tugang na kairi-iriba mo sa harong nindo kadtong nakaaging tiempo—alagad ngonyan yaon na sa saindang sadiring mga estado. Gabos na sainda pamilyado; dangan man saimo. Namamatean mo an siring na biyaya orog ngonyan na ika harayo na sainda, sindá na sa ining dalagan kan búhay, iyo an saimong mga parte-daryo.

Napagamiaw saimo kan saindang mga agi-agi—pagkatapos kamong magkairilo pagkagadan kan ama mo saradit pa sana kamo dangan pagtaliwan kan Iloy nindo kadtong darakula na kamo—na nungka kamo liningawan kan Diyos na saindong tinutubudan.

Dios mabalos sa mga Kristo sa daghan na iyo an mga tugang mo.

Biernes Santo

Calle Fatima, San Vicente

Diliman 

Ki Emma, na sobrang namoot

Some 15 years ago, when I was working for Plan International Bicol, gathering information from the NGO’s beneficiaries respondents in the upland barangays surrounding Mount Isarog and the Bicol National Park, I carried a notebook where I wrote verses for my mother Emma, who passed away in January 1996.

The Sea House

For Emma, who loved so much

1996

Tomorrow I will build a house

by the forest near the sea

where six palm trees will become 

brave bystanders by day—

and warm candles by night.

At the time, I kept a journal wherever I went—perhaps to relive the days with my mother whom I dearly lost during her life [I hardly had time for her when she was sick] and tearfully loved after her death [after college graduation, there was not much to do aside from job-hunting and freelancing]. And there was not much reason to hunt for jobs at all because there would be no one to offer my first salary.

Pride, Not Prejudice

After so many versions and revisions, a national magazine then edited by the National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin—published a longer submission (see below) before the end of the year. The publication of my poem in Philippine Graphic Weekly thrilled me to no end. I felt too lucky to have my [too personal a] sentiment printed in a national publication.

With this, the tribute to my mother was heightened. For one, she would have loved to see my work printed on a national paper. Sad to say, though, it is my contemplation on her death that would give [her or me] such pride.

The Sea House

Philippine Graphic Weekly

November 1996

I hate to leave really.

But I should go home tonight.

Tomorrow  I will build a house 

by the forest near the sea 

where I alone can hear my silence.

For it, I gathered six palm trees

stronger than me, to become

the pillars, firm foundations

of my tranquil days to come

about which I will not anymore hear.

I know the trees are good 

for they survived many typhoons

in the past that uprooted many others

and which made others bend, and die.

I hope they become bright lamps

along the road where I will pass

when I go home tonight.

I hope they’d be there and that

they would recognize me.

And if they don’t, it wouldn’t matter.

I would not want any trees

other than them.

For I know they are very good.

But tonight, please let them be

my warm candles.

And when I’m home I will be certain:

Tomorrow, I will have built a house

in the forest near the sea where

Every palm tree can hear silence. 

And the others can listen.

Reader’s Response

Finding the poem in one of my diskette files when I applied for work in Quezon City and Manila, my brother Mente—perhaps to while away his time—translated it to Bikol, rendering a rather old, Bikol archaic version.

An Harong Sa May Dagat

(Para qui Emma, na sobrang namoot)

1997

Magabat an boot co na maghale,

Alagad caipuhan co na mag-uli 

Ngonyan na banggui.

Sa aga, matugdoc aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat,

Cun sain aco na sana an macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Sa palibot caini, matanom aco 

Nin anom na poon nin niyog 

Na mas masarig sa saco, 

Na magiging mga harigi—

Manga pusog na pundasyon 

Can manga matuninong cong aldaw

Na dae co naman madadangog. 

Ma’wot co na sinda magserbing

Maliwanag na ilaw sa dalan

Sa macangirhat na diclom, 

Cun sain aco ma-agui 

Sa sacuyang pag-uli

Ngonyan na banggui.

Ma’wot co man na yaon sinda duman

Asin na aco mamidbid ninda. 

Alagad cun sinda malingaw saco, 

Dae na bale.

Nungca na aco mahanap 

Nin caribay ninda, nin huli ta aram co

Na sinda mga marhay.

Alagad atyan na banggui, 

Hahagadon co na sinda

Magserbing mga maiimbong 

Na candila cataid co.

Asin cun aco naca-uli na

Sigurado aco na sa aga

Iguwa na aco nin harong 

Sa cadlagan harani sa dagat

Cun sain aco na sana

An macacadangog 

Can sacuyang catranquiluhan.

Asin an iba macacadangog.

My Brother, My Executioner

Perhaps having the spirit of the classicists who dearly loved the classical age before them, reinventing an old manuscript to serve their own purposes, Mente made an English version based on his English translation.

Wanting to relive for himself the memory of our dear mother, Mente turned in his own masterpiece based on the published poem. Notice how the versification has radically changed—from irregular free verses to a series of couplets—and ending with a one-liner which is supposed to be the poem’s closure.


In the process, the version he rendered would become totally his original work. Comparing his piece with the original published piece, I see that the new work now brims with new meanings and warrants a different, if not disparate interpretation.

The House by The Sea

(For Emma, who Loved So Much)

1997

I leave with a heavy heart

But I need to go home tonight.

Tomorrow, I’ll build a house by the sea,

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

Around it I’ll plant six coconut trees

Which are stronger than I am.

Trees that will become the stable foundation 

of my quiet days, which I will no longer hear.

Undoubtedly, these coconut trees are the best

Because they have overcome many storms, that uprooted the others.

I want them to light the way through horrible darkness,

Where I will pass when I go home tonight.

I like them to be there and for them to know me

But it wouldnt matter if they’ve forgotten me.

Nobody can replace them 

Because I know they are good.

But tonight I’ll ask them to be like candles,

Warm, beside me. And when I am home 

I will have surely built a house by the sea 

Where only I will hear my tranquility.

And others will hear it, too.

A Promise to Write (A Poem)

After having undergone a number of literary workshops, I realize that images, symbols and metaphors [if any if at all] I used in the first draft were confusing and too overwhelming—giving it a puzzling dramatic situation. 


Now, I realize that the poem published in the past and wholly appreciated by my dear brother—with my sister perhaps, my sole readers at the time—carried double and mixed metaphors which rendered the piece fragmented, incoherent and totally not a good poem at all.

          And perhaps because it was dedicated to my dear mother, I never subjected this piece to any workshop. I submitted other pieces, and not this one.  Perhaps because I considered the work too sacred to be desecrated, or more aptly, slaughtered by the write people.

Nothing writes so much as blood; 
the rest are mere strangers.

—corrupted from Lawrence Kasdan’s Wyatt Earp, 1994

Speak to Us of Teaching

The Little Prince & We

Every writer has some purpose inherent in his work, a mindset to which his ideas and ideals gravitate. In one good book, this strikes as some insight which enables the readers to see the author as an advocate of some truth.

While such truth is universal, embracing an aspect of human life, it is only when the reader realizes this truth that the author is seen as his interpreter, his means to see himself.

French author Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is no less than this author. His popular novel The Little Prince (1945) is just but one of his greatest revelations of the self, much as he reveals himself.

Considered a fairy story ostensibly written for children, The Little Prince is the type of book immediately dismissed as “charming,” something only delightful and attractive. Others insist that it may not be necessary for one to finish reading the work to interpret what it sends him to know. The book may be simply for children in each of us.

Children are said to face the world by themselves. They always ask questions and they never run out of them. They want to know almost everything, just like the little prince who wants to know everything about the earth.

In The Little Prince, the characters that the prince meets one by one represent the influence on the mind of a child: the snake the fox and so many others shaped his view of the earth in many ways.

Chapter 16 begins: "So then the seventh planet was the Earth". On the Earth, he starts out in the desert and meets a snake that claims to have the power to return him to his home planet (A clever way to say that he can kill people, thus "Sending anyone he wishes back to the land from whence he came.")

The prince’s meeting with the snake delineates the author’s concept of isolation—desert imaging the loneliness or more aptly the dryness of everything. This resonates in the author’s distance from his family and his dangerous position as pilot unsure of his future feats during the war.

When the snake tells the prince, “It is lonely among men,” the author affirms that some men are unhappy even with their peers, as if to say, loneliness knows no favourites. The presence of the snake applies to the author’s judgment of evil—as one who confuses people and creates chaos in human life, but also one who will eventually make him realize his weakness or strength.

As the little prince wanders in the desert, vivid perception about the author and his work are seen. When the prince meets the flows in the same desert, the author elaborates that all things—short joys, isolation, and intense emotions brought about by evil—are so useless if man does not find meanings from them. Man has to transcend all circumstances with them to find meaning for himself.

In their conversation, the little prince comes to know from the rose about the nature of men—or what men really are. The reply of the flower strongly tells of human nature: “But no one never knows where to find them. The wind blows them away. They have no roots and that makes their life more difficult.

The prince meets a desert-flower, who, having seen a caravan pass by, tells him that there are only a handful of men on Earth and that they have no roots, which lets the wind blow them around making life hard on them.

Children, the author suggests, should realize through time that while life is fleeting, men have no constancy in their lives. Their decisions often have no permanence.

As the prince goes further, he now finds himself alone in the desert. When he speaks, an echo answers him: “Be my friends. I am all alone.” “I am all alone— all alone— all alone.” This scene makes for man’s call for companionship, for by his very nature, man is virtually made for companionship. Needless, man is social by nature. He cannot live by himself or alone. He needs the company of other people. He must interact with other people. Though the world does seem unfriendly, he needs to.

The little prince climbs the highest mountain he has ever seen. From the top of the mountain, he hopes he will see the whole planet and find people, but he sees only a desolate, craggy landscape. When the prince calls out, his echo answers him, and he mistakes it for the voices of humans. He thinks Earth is unnecessarily sharp and hard, and he finds it odd that the people of Earth only repeat what he says to them.

Here, it is as if de St. Exupéry says every person must reach out; for he will have no grasp of the wholeness of the world unless he reaches out to others. With others he may be able to find (the) meaning (of things).

After wandering the desert for a while, the little prince sees signs of civilization, and “all roads lead to the abodes of men.” There he meets a flower very much like his flower in his own planet.

Eventually, the prince comes upon a whole row of rosebushes, and is downcast because he thought that his rose was the only one in the whole universe. He begins to feel that he is not a great prince at all, as his planet contains only three tiny volcanoes and a flower he now thinks of as common. He lies down in the grass and weeps.

Of course, he is saddened to know that his flower is only one among many others, and later realized that he need not brag about it. To know and realize one is not entirely different from millions of others saps confidence. One therefore realizes there is nothing here to brag or boast about.

The author places the helpless child—a little prince—such a minute character as his focal point of introspection, his looking glass to articulate that the universe is too vast, if not too profound, for man to simply ponder.

Carbon Dating

I first saw Lolita Carbon and her band perform at the Bahay ng Alumni in UP Diliman in 1999. There they rendered a few numbers in a concert for a cause along with True Faith, Parokya ni Edgar and Eraserheads. 

And on this one fine evening, in Poblacion Mambusao, Capiz, she opened the night with “Masdan Mo Ang Kapaligiran,” a rather slow tune to start the ball rolling. After singing the piece, she said everyone must have known the song. True, it reminded me of my childhood. The piece was widely played on the radio when I was a grade-schooler. And it has never been as relevant as today—as perhaps countless climate change activities would make use of the anthem in all efforts toregain Mother Nature.

After the first two songs, she asked if the audience was still there. The audience was shockingly quiet, as in composed. The space inside the Villareal Cultural Center bordered serenity. Perhaps the Mambusaonons only liked to listen, I thought.  The performer casually talked as she tried to engage the audience who hardly reacted. With a few applauses here and there, Lolita Carbon perhaps leveled off to her audience. Yet, it must have come effortlessly as her repertoire of songs consisted more of anthems of the soul, not the outbursts of a drug addict.

I supposed Lolita found it hard to have rapport with the audience, who perhaps expected a rather solemn repertoire. We, the crowd, were made to sit on Monobloc chairs—as in a graduation rites or a political rally, which is a rather awkward arrangement for a concert that you could possibly head-bang on. Well, what can you do? The concert was for a cause.

The audiences were old folks, perhaps religious men and women and their families who came in droves to support the fundraising. I came to the concert with Jennylen Laña, my teacher friend. Jenny joined me the entire evening.

I found myself singing along with Lolita Carbon, much to Jenny’s delight and awe. She was surprised that I know the lyrics of most of the songs by heart—some words across the lines I could barely recall. Having listened to Asin through the years, I told her some of their songs even became my anthems.

Lolita Carbon wrote and sang the songs from her heart—she sang “Magulang” and “Itanong Mo sa Mga Bata” to probably inject some morale into the audience. “Usok” reminded me of the nights many, many years ago when I would seek refuge from the tedium of city work. I remembered how the karaoke nights along Visayas Avenue just made me go on. That was before. That was before.

Have you ever roused someone from sleep, she asked. Perhaps the most difficult person to wake is someone who is wide awake—nagtutulug-tulugan lang. Lolita then sang, “Gising Na, Kaibigan Ko” which made me sing with her all throughout—“Nakita mo na ba ang mga bagay na dapat mong nakita? /Nagawa mo na ba ang mga bagay na dapat mong ginawa? /Kalagan ang tali sa paa; imulat na ang iyong mga mata; /Kaysarap ng buhay lalo na’t alam mo kung saan papunta.”

The song did not need Lolita Carbon’s conversation or explanation; her incantations were enough to make someone reflect. It also reminded me of the recent Nescafe TV ad—which asks, “Para kanino ka gumigising?” A purposeful life is worth living, it said.

Later in the night, Lolita related that many, many years ago, she wrote “Tuldok” with Cesar “Saro” Bañares, Jr. “Tuldok” said everyone has to be humble because compared to the whole universe, we are infinitesimal. Some years ago I learned how Bañares was knifed to death in a bar brawl somewhere in Mindanao. No amount of stardom can make someone supernova, indeed.

Towards the end of the evening, Lolita featured a song “Pagbabalik,” which she said won for her a music award back in the late 70s. Immediately, the song made me recall Ninoy Aquino’s plight when he was exiled to the United States—“Bayan ko, nahan ka?/Ako ngayo’y nag-iisa/Nais kong magbalik/Saiyo, bayan ko/Patawarin mo ako/Kung ako’y nagkamali/Sa landas na aking tinahak.”

Having read much of the national hero’s life and works, I could picture Ninoy’s famous last TV footage before he was gunned down in tarmac in 1983. I felt alive that I just do not exist—having these recollections and the ability to remember something significant beyond myself, I thought I proudly belong to history.

Some indistinct voices at the back requested for more numbers from the band. That’s why the last number was rendered with the sponsor priest. But soon after that, the night was over.

The concert wrapped up with Lolita Carbon singing with the sponsor priest, Fr. Banias, who sang “Dahil Sa’yo/Because of You” with the rock star. The last piece was more of a prayer, as it was sung with a priest. I heard my voice singing to God. “Dahil sa’yo, nais kong mabuhay/Dahil sa’yo, handang mamatay.” When the priest sang with the rock star, the melody, the harmony created went up the air as in “Usok,” in utter prayerful fashion.

It was too early to finish the concert. Yet, the husky voice of Lolita Carbon [when she said thank you and good night] told me two things. One, the Mambusaonons could have jammed with her the whole night long if they wanted to—her singing voice could simply relax anyone’s nerves. Her chords and her band’s drums and percussion will surely make one grab the next Red Horse bottle, and he could simply start to want to talk about something worthwhile.

Or, was it now the best time to end? The audience barely reacted to her. And the solemn concert arrangement disabled any wild audience to break out to head bang or something. Perhaps because the songs were just enough to make the audience recall. To make them recall is enough to make them quiet and spend their own spaces throughout the evening.

It was as if the audience came from an opera. Everyone was quiet and composed as the time they went in. All throughout the concert, Lolita engaged the audience, and made them sing with her and her band. The songs and their themes, I suppose, were more moral than musical, spiritual than synthetic. It was one of the most serious concert audiences I have been with.

“Kung tunay man ako ay alipinin mo/Ang lahat sa buhay ko’y dahil sa’yo.” I thought Lolita Carbon’s voice rose not only from her diaphragm but from her soul. I also thought perhaps if my soul has a voice, it would be hers. I thought I could tell her that.  I told Jenny I would want to meet the rock star at the backstage. I realized that I was one of her biggest fans. I wanted to talk to her. I asked one of the organizers if they sold CDs or stuff. There was none, I was told. It was simply a concert for a cause, I thought. 

Two weeks ago, Mrs. Erna Ticar, my fellow employee who works for the church, handed me the ticket labeled “Biyaheng Langit: Lolita Carbon of Asin and her Band in Concert.” The five hundred-peso ticket came with the privilege to donate for the reroofing of the church of St Catherine of Alexandria parish of Mambusao, Capiz.

Proceeds of the event will go to the renovation of the house of worship of the Mambusaonons, I thought. Or the ticket must have meant—perhaps Bro wants me to take things easy in my new work environment—and is probably telling me to relax and slow down. Really slow things down. I was right on both.

I thought that Lolita Carbon just sang it right, “Kaya wala kang dapat na ipagmayabang/Na ikaw ay mautak at maraming alam/Pagkat kung susuriin at ating isipin/Katulad ng lahat, ikaw ay tuldok rin.”

When Jenny and I stepped out from the crowd, it was still evening.

*For more information on how to donate for the St Catherine of Alexandria Parish, you can visit http://sanctacatalina.blogspot.com.