Pákrit

Kun pákrit ka, tinutuyo mo gayod na magtíos ka. “I’ve been rich and I’ve been poor and believe me, rich is better,” sabi kan sarong artistang Amerikana. Pamoso siyang agít-agitan na minátaram kan nasasaboot alágad habong ihambal kan ibá. Pero tibáad salâ siya. Makahirák man nánggad kun pinapatíos kita kan ibá. Alagad magayonon gayod kun an talagang magtíos muyá ta—mayo kitang gayong problema; mas marhay an salud ta; mas matawhay kaysa kun mayamanon kita. Naiináan an satong mga kahâditan; napaparâ an satong mga kanigoan. Idtong mga nagsurumpâ sa buhay ninda nin chastity, obedience kag poverty—ginpanumdom nindang mangín mas maogma. Ngonyan maogma nanggad sinda. Nungka ka man pagsabihang matios ka ta ngani sanáng makapagsolsol ka. Magdesider kang magtíos ta ngáni sanáng mag-áyo an buhay mo. Dai ka magparápayáman, mas magigi kang maogmá.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

ihambal, sabihon

matawhay, trangkilo

kag, sagkod

ginpanumdom, inisip

mangin, maging

mag-áyo, maging marhay

Susog sa “Frugality” na yaon sa Worldy Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking, 1994, 15.

Ki Protacio, Gadan Sa Edad Na 38

Garo man nanggad ribo-ribong dagom an duros ngonyan na banggi—siring sa ginhalâ niya saimo kaidto. Tinuturusok kan kada panas an pusikit mong kublit; kinikiriblit ka; pinapasalingoy na paminsaron mo idtong mga aldaw na dai kamo nagpopondo kangingisi. Kawasa ika an saiyang pirming binabangít—sa kapikunan na naturalisa mo, ika man biyóng naiingít; minangiriil sa sinasabi tungod sa imo kan bâbâ niyang matabil. An pagkamoot abaanang kapeligroso. Tibaad igwa kamong namate sa kada saro poon kadto—kung kaya an puso mo nawaran nin diskanso. Siya man nagparalagaw, nagparatrabaho; kadakuldakul inasikaso; garong an iniisip nindo pirmi kun pâno makapalagyo. Mayo na siya ngonyan; sa mga kabukidan kan Kabikolan, igwang kung anong kapaladan an saiyang napadumanan; sarong aldaw sa Juban, kaiba kan saiyang mga kasama, siya ginadan kan saiyang mga kalaban. Mayo na siya. An parasuba sa buhay mo nagtaliwan na; mayo nang maolog-olog kan saimong ngaran; mayo nang malapaskan saimong mga kanigoan; mayo nang malangkaba kan saimong kamahalan. Bwelta ka na naman sa pangabuhi na tibaad igwang kamanungdanan. 

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon 

ginhalâ, sinabi

paminsaron, pag-iisip

naiingít, nababalde

bâbâ, nguso

makapalagyo, makadulag

nagtaliwan, nagadan

Mga Pinaghalían Gayód kan Hálas

1. Cagsawá. Pangáran: kag + sawá, 
siring sa kagharóng, ukón housemaster. 

Kagrugáring kan sawá; snake master.

Mga tawo sa sarong banwa sa Albay—
Tibáad nagsambá sa baláan na halás
bisán layás; kaya naanggót an Bulkan:
mga táwo, haláman, propiedád
tinalbóng, binagúnas, winaswás.

2. Uryól. 

Pangáran: Iyo idtong parapasalúib
sa epiko kan Ibalóng. Tibáad háli sa urí,
o pagkaárâ—minsan táwo, minsan, hálas.

Mapagpasalúib na tinúga; mayong 

kabaing sa gandá, dáwa sa iya nga 

mga miga, minahira kan saiyang gúya.

3. Bikol. Pangáran: Hali daa sa bikô, ukón crooked 

sa Ingles; after the region’s geography.

Kadagaán na nalilibodan kan Ticao Pass sa mapa, 

tibáad dáting Tico Pass; an kadagaan tikô kun 

idadalágan minakamáng; minsan sain minasúpang.

4. Iba Pa. Kun anggót an minatarám, an sabi, lasólas—

halín sa háli + layás; ukón halnás + ulyás,
buót sabihon, slippery, siring sa kikig, ukón eel.
Apod sa Hiligáynon, ulaló o man-óg. Tibáad Manáog.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

ukón,o
baláan, banal, sagrado
bisán, dawâ

guya, lalawgon

saiya nga, sa saiyang mga
halín, háli

 

Sa Sakuyang Mga Hinablos

Tributes to Hard Work and Diligence 

Mahihigos an mga miembro kan satong pamilya. Nagdakula sinda sa marhay na paarog kan saindang mga ginikanan na dai sana magtrabaho kundi maglapigot ta ngani na makaantos sa buhay na ini. (Everyone in our family is hard-working. They were raised by parents who had valued not only hard work and industry but also diligence as key to living a good life.)

Satuyang basahon an saindang mga istorya—dawa ngani sa halipot na tiempo (sagkod espasyo) sana. Logod sa mga pasabong na ini para saindo—mga hinablos ko—orog kamong maghinigos kun an sadiri na man nindong toka mag-abot na. (Let us read their stories—brief or shortened they might be. May these experiences inspire you all—my nieces and nephews—to also work hard when your turn comes.)

LOLO AWEL, Inaapod man kaidtong Dodoy

Manuel Cepe Manaog, mga 30s, kadtong 1970s. Nagdayo sa liblib na barangay—nagtukdo sa Bolaobalite Elementary School ta ngani na mataparan an kinahanglan sa trabaho niya. Nag-iskusar na magkinayod—tinios gayod an pungaw asin kawa’ran kan saiyang esposa—para sana sa nagdadakula niya nang pamilya.

LOLA EMMA, An Inaapod nindang Manay Emma

Emma Saavedra, mga 20s, kadtong 1960s. Sinarigan kan pamilya komo matuang aki ninda Emiliano sagkod Margarita. Nakatapos sa pagmamaestra, sinundan an inagihan kan padangat niyang ama. An pinagsweldo bilang maestra itinao sa magurang. Nakatabang sa pagpaayo kan harong na iniistaran asin kan saiyang mga tugang antes magdesisyon na magpamugtak sa sadiri niyang tahanan.

UNCLE AWE

Emmanuel Manaog, mga 20s, kadtong 1990s. Bilang matua sa anom na aki, pigsarigan siya kan ina na amay na nabalo. Nag-eskusar na makatapos bangud sa saindang kadaihan. Pagkagradwar sa kolehyo, guminibo nin paagi ta nganing tulos na maempleyo. An mga enot na sweldo ginastos para sa mga nguhod na irmano—tinabangan mapakarhay an saindang tamanyo. An puturo kan iba saiyang pinabuwelo.

UNCLE ANO

Neil Romano, mga 10s, kadtong 1980s. Susog sa pagpadakula kan ina niyang padaba, nagdakula siyang mahigos ata nang nagin mahugod. Nasarigan kan saiyang ina sa mga gibohon sa harong—minalinig, minalaba, kadakul gibohon poon aga asta sa hapon. Pinapangyaring malinigan asin maayos an harong asin palibot na garo baga saiyang sadiring kahadean, an tahanan kan pamilyang saiyang kaogmahan.

UNCLE ALEX

Alex Manaog, mga 30s, kadtong 2000s. Nagdayo sa lugar na harayo ta ngani na mapuslan an kursong tinapusan, an propesyon na napilian. Sa pinili na pigtrabahohan, naglapigot ta nganing makatipon dangan makahiras sa mga tugang. Saka man nagpamugtak sa sadiri niyang pagkaminootan. Sa paburu-bwelta sa sini nga trabaho, sa pagsige-sige bilang enhinyero, natataparan an mga mahal sa buhay asin ila nga pangangaipo.

UNCLE MENTZ

Clemente Manaog, mga 10s, kadtong 1980s. Pirang bakasyon nag-istar sa harong kan lolahon sagkod lolohon. Nasarigan kan duwang gurang na garo baga bilang atang kan matinauhon niyang magurang. Nagtrabaho sa mga gibohon sa oma kan saiyang lola; pinatabang kan mga magurang sa kun siisay sa pamilya; tinios an mga lamuda asin pagmatá.

AUNTIE MOMMY CHING

Rosario, mga 20s, kadtong 1990s. Sinugo kan mga sirkumstansya sa pamilya na makiistar sa iba, dangan nakibagay sa kung anong mga kanigoan ninda. Inusar an nanudan sa magurang na pakikipagkapwa. Nakiogma, dai sana nakiiba; an magayagayang paminsaron pirmi niyang dara-dara. Nag-aarang na makatabang kun minabisita sa mga tugang.

Sinurublian na Mga Tataramon sa Hiligaynon

Asin An Mga Kahulugan sa Bikol asin Ingles

hinablos, pamangkin, sobreno, sobrena; nephew, niece

ginikanan, magurang, parent

tiempo, oras, panahon; time, moment

kinahanglan, kaipuhan, needed

mahugod, mahigos, industrious

mapuslan, mapakinabangan, make use

paminsaron, pag-iisip, disposition

DISCLAIMER

Kun maririparo nindo, an kada saro sa mga usipon na ini susog sana sa partikular na tiempo sa saindang buhay, kun kansuarin napahanga ninda ako kan saindang mga ginibo. (You will notice that each of these stories refers to a particular period in their lives in which I particularly learned and/or witnessed and am continually amazed by their hard work and diligence.)

But I know these stories are very limited. In fact, I consider these only as snippets (perhaps only keywords) to the full chapters of the book of our lives, which, for now, only exists in my head. What I do know is that as you grow older, you will help me revise these stories about your parents. Time will come, you will tell these stories to me. By then, I am sure, we will not run out of beautiful things to talk about.

Ciudad kan Roxas

25 Hunyo 2014

Like the Poet Needs the Paint

If there’s one thing about Chinese poet Wang Wei (699–759) that makes him stand out among other poets of the T’ang Dynasty, it would be his unique combination of poetry with painting, and his integration of painting and poetry, summed by a later poet in the phrase: “poetry in painting; painting in poetry.”

“In his poetry there is painting and in his painting there is poetry.”

—Sung poet Su Shih.

The poet’s personal milieu brings forth poetry. Wang Wei had lived with or under manageable personal circumstances. Times during his day were relatively prosperous. Under such circumstances, along with the poet’s serene temperament, and his internalization of Buddhist’s religiosity and resignation, Wang Wei’s poetry thrived and articulated perfect calm and transparency.

Wang Wei’s works, 400 of them extant, are said to be affirmations of the Buddhist faith, an element which played a major part in the intellectual and spiritual life of T’ang Dynasty. Along with poets Lin-Tsung-yu’an and Po Chin, Wang Wei was considered serious student of Buddhist thought, significantly giving expressions to their religious views and ideals. Their works would even qualify to be the true Buddhist poetry, one which is distinguished from that which merely dabbles in Buddhist terminology.

Wang-chu’an Poems is a collective body of poems collaborated by Wang Wei and Pie Ti, whose sensibility reflects Wang Wei’s taste. The work was also drawn from the experiences of the two friend poets when they stayed in Wang’s self-earned estate in the south-eastern capital.

Containing 20 poems by Wang Wei and the companion poems of Pie Ti—it is a treasure trove of impressions, preferences and observations of Wang Chu’an, the estate whose name means “wheel stream,” after the place where it was built.

In a letter to friend P’ei Ti, Wang Wei shares some warmth which he must have found with P’ei’s companionship in the hills of Wang-chu’an. Very well he tells P’ei’ Ti that his companionship with him had been because he knew they would jive toward seeking quietude or perhaps enlightenment: "Perhaps you would then be free to roam the hills with me? If I did not know your pure and unworldly cast of mind, I should have not presumed to ask you to join in this idle and useless activity."

Wang Wei’s pieces also belong to the true Buddhist poetry in which the philosophical meaning lies much farther below the surface. Its imagery simultaneously functions on both descriptive and symbolic levels. Thus it is not at all possible to pinpoint the exact symbolic content of the image.

Representing a great advance over Tao Chien in the tradition of tien-yuan poetry, a precursor who had a large following at the time, Wang Wei turned the five-syllabic meter into a more supple tool of self-expression through parallelism, inversion, careful placing of pivotal words and variations in the placing of the caesura in each line. 

Yin & Yang. Considered one of the greatest High T’ang poets, Wang Wei’s works often take a Buddhist perspective, combining an attention to the beauties of nature with an awareness of sensory illusion. His work is an interface of reality and fantasy or imagination, traceable to the twin influences of Buddhism and landscape painting. Wang Wei’s poems are distinguished by visual immediacy on one hand and by meditative insight on the other.

Wang Wei’s poetry appeals to the reader because the poet is able to explore the world of nature and men; the poet virtually communicates directly with the reader; and the poet gets to express what is seldom expressible in any language—the profound insight of a poet to “see into the life of things.” 

Wang Wei’s inspiration for landscape. An earlier poet named Hsieh Ling-yun (385–433) who lived 400 years before Wang Wei’s time must have provided the inspiration for the Wang-chu’an poems, as is obvious from the names of his hills and mounds—Hua-tsu-kang Ridge, Axe-leafed Bamboo Peak—places celebrated by Hsieh Ling-yun himself.

This poet has keen eye for detail, whether describing the simple rustic life on a farm or writing about the joy and peace he found in nature. His poems blend the most concrete vocabulary with the abstract, empty, being, non-being, etc. Such effort he takes to create a special atmosphere—

The birds fly south in unending procession

These hills again wear the colours of autumn

Their green leaves fluttering over an eddying stream

Pliant yet upright, these bamboos adorn slope and peak.

Depicting the real scenes or panoramas where he consciously chosen for introspection, Wang Wei’s Wang chi’an poems attempt to sketch these places—the way details of colour, light, sounds and scent are carelessly interspersed—thereby virtually creating impressive panoramas and perspective.

What makes Wang Wei’s poems most interesting is that the poet is able to explore, or play around the world of nature and man; he is also able to get his message across the reader; and he is able to articulate the grandness of a poet’s insight—“to see into the life of things,” one which is hardly expressible in any language.

Deep in the bamboo grove I sit alone

Singing to the brimming music of the lute

In the heart of the forest I am quite unknown

Save to the visiting moon, and she is mute.

~“Bamboo Villa”

Songs of Ourselves

Words and Music through Love and Life

Part 4 of Series

Besides my other brothers, Mentz has influenced my penchant for music, even as he has wonderfully sung and danced his way through love and life. 

Though he was not much of a child performer himself, he later has taken to the family program stage like a natural, class act as he has done to presiding matters for (the rest of) our family.

Years ago, I called him to be the Speaker of the House—i.e. our household—because he has hosted and also literally presided our family (gatherings) since 1996. One with a quiet and unassuming disposition, Mentz has always taken to the microphone as if it’s public performance.

Through the years, Mentz has been trained to become a very good public performer. At the Ateneo high school, he led the Citizens Army Training (CAT) Unit’s Alpha Company, a well-respected group finely chosen to parade to give glory to Ina (Our Lady of Peñafrancia) in September in Naga City.

Then in college, Mentz did not only win a Rotary-sponsored oratorical contest; he also served as junior representative in the college student council. And before graduating in 1994, he won a graduate scholarship at the University of the Philippines where he would later obtain his graduate degree. And because he went to Manila all ahead of us, I always thought he has been exposed to the world way before his time.  

In the late 80s and early 90s when he was making the transition from being a high school achiever to a college heartthrob at the Ateneo, Mentz played Kenny Rogers and Tom Jones on Manoy’s cassette tape. Sweet sister Nene and I would always joke at how he covered a singer's song better than the singer himself.

In those days, he deftly worded the first lines of “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town” as he cleverly impersonated the speaker in “The Gambler”—sounding more Kenny Rogers than the bearded country singer himself: "on a warm summer's evenin, on a train bound for nowhere..." For us, his siblings, no one did it better than Mentz. Not even Kenny Rogers.

Perhaps because I listened to him passionately crooning away Tom Jones’ “Without Love” that I also heard the lyrics of that song after the overnight vigil of the Knights of the Altar inside Room 311 of Santos Hall. I thought I was dreaming but it was in fact Mentz’s tape playing on my classmate Alfredo Asence’s cassette player. Truth be told, I could not do away with the passionate singing that I had carted away Mentz’s tape for that one sleepover in the Ateneo campus.

In 1995, Mentz brought Enya’s “The Celts” and Nina Simone’s collection to our new household in Mayon Avenue. He bought these tapes to fill in the new Sony component secured from Mama’s retirement funds. Most songs of these women sounded morbid but I loved them. Because I so much liked the voice that came and went in Enya’s “Boadicea,” I played it the whole day on my Walkman (which Mentz kindly lent to me) while writing my thesis on F. Sionil Jose’s Rosales saga.  

In early January of 1996, Mother would pass away.

When I played Nina Simone’s “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair” one night during mother’s wake, one of my brothers asked me to turn it off. Perhaps it was too much for him to take. That black woman’s voice was too much to bear. But away from people, listening to these women’s songs did not only help me finish my paper; it also helped me grieve. 

Among others, Mentz adored Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” Because this was the time before Google could give all the lyrics of all songs in the world, Mentz knew the words to the song by listening to cousin Maida’s tape many times through the day. While every piece in the collection is a gem, “Homeless” struck a chord in me that years later, I would use it to motivate my high school juniors to learn about African culture and literature. Talk of how the South African Joseph Shabalala's soulful voice struck a (spinal) chord in both of us.

Years later, when we were all working in Manila, I heard him singing Annie Lennox’s “Why” and miming Jaya singing “Laging Naroon Ka.” At the time, I could only surmise that he was humming away his true love and affection which he found with his beloved Amelia, a barangay captain’s daughter whom he married in 2001.

With my sister Nene, the household of Mentz and Amy in Barangay San Vicente in Diliman would become our refuge in the big city. Though Nene and I worked and lived separately from them, it was where we gathered in the evening as a family. Even as Mentz and Amy gradually built their own family, their growing household has become our own family. Through years, it has not only become the fulcrum of our solidarity; it has also become the core of our own sensibility.

Many times, I would be told how Amy and Mentz would go gaga over live musical performances by their favourite local and foreign singers. Once they told me how they enjoyed the concert of Michael Bolton, whom the couple both loved. I would later learn that Amy had a very good collection of Bolton’s albums from “Soul Provider” to the greatest hits collection. I wouldn’t wonder about it even as I have always liked the white man’s soulful rendition of Roy Orbison’s “A Love So Beautiful” since the first time I heard it. (But I think I wouldn’t trade off the Roy Orbison original.)

Years have gone by fast, and three children have come as blessings to Mentz and Amy. Once I heard him singing with his firstborn Ymanuel Clemence singing Creed’s “With Arms Wide Open,” indeed their anthem to themselves. Yman, now a graduating high school senior, has likewise taken to performing arts as a guitarist and an avid singer of alternative rock and pop. Mentz’s firstborn is one soul conceived by his father’s love for lyrics and heartfelt melodies and his mother’s love for Michael Bolton and a host of many other soulful sensibilities.

With Yman, and now Yzaak and Yzabelle, their vivo grade-schoolers (like the rest of today’s youth who can hardly wait to grow up) singing the words of Daft Punk and Pharell Williams from the viral downloads on YouTube, this tradition of song and sense and soul is subtly being passed on, with each of us now and then singing our own ways through joy, through love and through life.

Hamís

Dawa ngani naisurat sa saiyang mga oda kan Griyegong si Pindar an hamis na yaon sa mga kalalakihan, para sato, an hamís ukon sa ibang pagtaram—an pagkamalambing—balwarte sana kan mga kababaihan.

Mga niños kag mga lolos man sana an tinutugutan na magin lâyabon o malambing. Iba pa ngani an aton nga tawag sa amo sini nga pamatasan: swabe, aliwalas, o marahayrahay na ugali.

Dai sana itinutugot an pagiging malambing kan mga babayi, linalangkabâ pa ini, orog na an pagiging masinunod-sunod sa dawâ anong pagibohon sainda.

An pagigin mabuot asin matinao sa ano man na bagay iyo an minapaikot sa kinâban.

An matuod, mayo nin kasimpoderoso arog kan mga kababaihan. Sa satong sibilisasyon sinda nanggad an nagrereynar.

An babaying malambing—maogmahon dangan matinaúhon—iyo an pinakamagayon kag pinakabaskog na gahum sa aton nga kalibutan. Dai ni manenegaran, indî ni madadaihan.

Sarong diyosa si Venus—hinahangaan. Dangan kinakatakutan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

ukon, o

aton nga, satong

kag, sagkod

kalibutan, kinâban.

indî, dai

Susog sa “Sweetness.” Yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, 72.

Songs of Ourselves

Words and Music through Love and Life

Part 2 of Series

Manoy Awel, our eldest brother, has had the biggest influence in each of us, his younger siblings. 

While brothers Ano and Alex strutted their way to get us equally break-dancing to Michael Jackson and his local copycats in the 1980s, Manoy’s influence in the rest of us, his siblings, is indispensable. Being the eldest, Manoy held the “official” possession of Mother’s pono (turntable) like the two Stone Tablets, where the songs being played later became the anthems among the siblings. 

On this portable vinyl record player, every one of us came to love the acoustic Trio Los Panchos, Mother’s favorite whose pieces did not sound different from her aunt, Lola Charing’s La Tumba number which she would sing during family reunions. 

In those days, Manoy would play Yoyoy Villame’s rpms alternately with (Tarzan at) Baby Jane’s orange-labeled “Ang Mabait Na Bata.” But it was the chorus from Neoton Familia’s “Santa Maria” which registered in my memory, one which chased me up to my high school years. 

Manoy’s pono music would last for a while until the time when there would be no way to fix it anymore. A story has been repeatedly told of how Manoy dropped the whole box when he was returning (or maybe retrieving) it from the tall cabinet where it was kept out of our reach. Here it is best to say that I remember these things only vaguely, having been too young to even know how to operate the turntable. 

Since then, we had forgotten already about the pono, as each of us, through the years, has gone one by one to Naga City to pursue high school and college studies.  

One day in November of 1987, Supertyphoon Sisang came and swept over Bicol. At the time, I was still in Grade 6 staying with Mother and brother Ano in our house in Banat; while my brothers and my sister were all studying in Naga.

The whole night, Sisang swooped over our house like a slavering monster, and in the words of our grandmother Lola Eta, garo kalag na dai namisahan (one condemned soul). The day before, we secured our house by closing our doors and windows. But the following morning, the jalousies were almost pulverized; the walls made of hardwood were split open; and the roofs taken out. But our house still stood among the felled kaimito, sampalok and santol trees across the yard.

Among other things, I remember brother Ano retrieving our thick collection of LP vinyl records. Most if not all of them were scratched, chipped and cracked. In a matter of one day, our vinyl records had been soaked and were rendered unusable. Ano, who knew art well ever since I could remember, cleaned them up one by one, salvaged whatever was left intact, and placed those on walls as decors. 

The 45 rpms and the LP circles looked classic like elements fresh out of a 1950s art deco. On the walls of our living room now were memories skillfully mounted for everyone’s recollection. And there they remained for a long time.

By this time, Mother had already bought a Sanyo radio cassette player which later became everyone’s favorite pastime.

Soon, Manoy would be glued to cassette tapes that he would regularly bring in the records of the 1980s for the rest of us. The eighties was a prolific era—it almost had everything for everyone. Perhaps because we did not have much diversion then, we listened to whatever Manoy listened to. On his boombox, Manoy played Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Heart, Sade, America and Tears for Fears, among a million others. Of course, this “million others” would attest to how prolific the 80s was.

In those days, Manoy recorded songs while they were played on FM radio stations. It was his way of securing new records; or producing his own music. Then he would play it for the rest of us. Music was Manoy’s way of cheering the household up—he played music when he would cook food—his perennial assignment at home was to cook the dishes for the family. 

Manoy loved to play music loud anytime and every time so that Mother would always tell him to turn the volume down. Most of the time, Manoy played it loud—so that we, his siblings, his captured audience in the household, could clearly hear the words and the melodies, cool and crisp.

While Mother and Manoy would always have to discuss about what to do about his loud records playing, we, the younger ones, would learn new sensibilities from the new sounds which we heard from the sound-box. We did not only sing along with the songs being played; we also paraded nuances from them which we made for and among ourselves. Out of the tunes being played and heard, we made a lot of fun; and even cherished some of them.

When we were very young, I remember hearing a cricket when Manoy played America’s “Inspector Mills” every night, which lulled my sister Nene and me to sleep. Nene and I asked him to play it all over again because we would like to hear the cricket again and again in the said song. (Later, I would be aware that it’s not only a cricket but also a police officer reporting over the radio.)

During those nights, Mama was expected to arrive late because she worked overtime at her father’s house that hosted Cursillo de Cristianidad classes, a three-day retreat seminar which the family committed to sponsor for the barangay Bagacay through the years.

Sometimes, it was just fine even if Mother was not there when we slept. At times, we knew she wouldn’t be able to return home for that weekend, so we were lulled to sleep in Manoy’s bed listening to America and his other easy-listening music. Because he played these songs for us, the lonely nights without Mother in our house were made bearable by Manoy Awel. 

When Manoy was not around or when I was left alone in the house, I would go to his room and play his records to my heart’s content. Because he would leave his other records at home, I equally devoured them without his knowledge. None of his mixed tapes escaped my scrutiny.

Through the years, Manoy would later be collecting boxes of recorded songs and later even sorting them according to artists and genres. 

 One day, I saw these recorded tapes labeled “Emmanuel” on one side and “Mary Ann” on the other. It wouldn’t be long when I learned that Manoy had found his better half, his own B side—in the person of Manay Meann, his future wife. 

Words and Worlds

There are moments when you recall some words you first heard when you were young; these words easily bring you back to the past. Whenever you get to encounter them again, you begin to picture people and places, faces and spaces; colors and presences. As if in a dream, these images pour onto your mind at random; sometimes from one face to another; from one place to another; from one scene to another.

You could do only this when you type away the keys: letter by letter, word by word, this daydreaming brings you to these spaces and faces; these times and places; these worlds. Through this daydreaming, which you do usually through the day, yourealize that they are worlds that you would want to rather be in again.

Jamboree. You have never been to an actual jamboree. Vaguely you recall one afternoon in grade school when your mother's Grade 6 pupils were being led by Mr. Domingo Olarve, the industrial arts teacher, to build tents and take part in varied group games, complete with teams and cheerleading. They even built a campfire toward the late night inside the grade school grounds. But you were hardly in school by then. Burubuglangan—that’s how they called you. You just tagged along your mother who was one of the teacher leaders then. It also refers to that kind of player in your games who was not considered an official opponent or competitor. Sort of like understudy—as you were barely 6 years old.

Some years later, when you stepped into the sixth grade yourself,you hardly had one. Probably because Mr. Olarve was now either un-motivated tolead the scouting activities for the school; or that you school principal Mr. Virgilio Abiada’s projects did not include the scouting for the students when October came. You never had jamboree even as you were constantly told that Ardo and Zarina, your cousins in Iriga, almost had it every year and even in their high school.

Timpalakan. You remember this word very well. Across the year, and even across your entire elementary school life, your teachers sought you to take part in an event in the district level—arts contest, essay writing contest and even quiz bees. In these activities, you never wondered why they would not get somebody else.

Bivouac. You first heard the term from your elder brothers Manoy, Ano and Alex, who went to the city trade school. In that school, your brothers had undergone bivouac, that you remember there was a time they could not shut their mouths about their own experiences. You thought it’s bibwak. Years later, youwould know the correct spelling and even encounter the same in one of the stories in the komiks which they asked you to rent from the Bago store downtown. It’s a French word,referring to a temporary camp or shelter. Ah, probably, their own version of summer camp. It must have been exciting.

Library. Back in college, whenever you were in the library, you searched for books dating back to the 1880s or earlier, those set in an old typeface,soft-bound and probably published before 1970s. 

You were excited if you happened to find one by an author whose love for nature was clear in his works. These kinds of books were very difficult for you to find; but you really allotted time to look for them. In a week, you would be able to borrow at least one which you would reserve to read for the weekend.Then come Monday, you would be refreshed, as if nothing bad happened on your Sunday morning’s ROTC drills in the school grounds.

Leo Tolstoy’s diaries, Oscar Wilde’s De Profundis, F. Sionil Jose, Nick Joaquin, or sometimes poetry in the Philippines Free Press magazine or Bikol poems in Kinaadman—you  loved to read them, copy them in your notebook, put some drawings along with the excerpts from a book.

Doing all these made your day—some of them you shared with your sister,your close friend, your teachers; and your significant other. At the time, you had felt fortunate because there were many, many good books in the library.

Among others, it always thrilled you to read short, powerful verses.Some of them answered your questions; others rid you of confusion. Some cleared your mind; and about a few spoke to you loud; spoke to you hard: “We are/Leaves on Life’s tree/And Death is the wind/that shakes the branches/Gently till its leaves/All fall” (“Death” by Herminio Beltran, pre-war Filipino poet).

After Making Love, You Hear Footsteps*

dawa garo mayo man; huna nindo lang

pirming igwang nagdadangadang. Ika

handal tibaad an saimong kasaruan,

sabi mong haloy nang nawara, basang

na sanang magbutwa; siya man masundan

daa kan ilusyon na an sugid haloy niya

nang itinalbong, alagad ngonyan saiya

tibaad nag-iidong-idong.

Sa laog ka'ning kwarto garo igwang

nakahiriling saindo. Sa saindong pinapaiplian

garo man sana dai kamo nalilipudan. Pagmati nindo

pirmi kamong linalamag kan kun anong duwang kalag.

Dai man daw basang na sana sinda nindong binarayaan

ta nganing sa kada saro kamo magpasiram-siram?

Sa saindang kasuyaan, dae ninda aram

kun sain maduman. Yaraon sinda bisan diin

kamo magduman. Sa saindang kasusupgan,

dai ninda kamo tinatantanan. Mga kalag sindang

dai nagkamirisahan. Ara-aldaw ninda kamong

sisingilon kan saindang kamurawayan.

*Dispensa ki Galway Kinnell

King of Pain

I saw Pepeng Kaliwete starring Fernando Poe, Jr. when I was a first-grader.  In those days, Mother was fond of movies that on weekends, she would bring her children to downtown Naga and there we watched all kinds of movies—in Emily, Bichara, Alex or Vic—the movie theaters owned by the Bicharas in Naga City.

Nothing reminds me of the movie except cringing at the sight of Pepe’s hands being twisted by a moving wooden motor—by the goons of the kontrabida led by the proverbial villain Paquito Diaz. Who can ever forget the ngilo just watching that scene? Since then, I have looked forward to watching FPJ’s movies.

Enough said.

Some thirty years later, I feel fine because it is now official. This year, President Benigno Aquino III conferred a posthumous National Artist award to the late Fernando Poe, Jr., King of Philippine Movies.  Aquino’s Proclamation No. 435 only confirmed an earlier declaration of Poe as National Artist in 2006, two years after Poe’s death. But at the time controversy took over.

I recall the award was refused by FPJ’s family from then President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, whom they thought, rigged the 2004 elections in which FPJ ran for president. This year, the family has accepted the recognition from the current president.

I suppose the national recognition of this prolific artist is appropriate. For one, a National Artist is one who has helped “build a Filipino sense of nationhood through the content and form of their works.”  Through some 50 years of his career in the movie industry, FPJ had been a household word for his honest portrayals of the plight of the Filipino, particularly the underprivileged and the marginalized.

An average Filipino like me knows an FPJ movie or the role he portrayed simply because he portrayed the life of the ordinary people, who compose the lot of the population. Whether in film biographies—from Pepeng Kaliwete to Eseng ng Tondo or other movies he produced, directed and acted in, it's he who sacrifices for the other person.

Up to his sixties, FPJ’s roles had been consistently that—particularly favoring the underprivileged or defending the marginalized, but all the while lionizing the good. If at all, FPJ’s movies melodramas helped define the generation to which I belong. But because his roles have been mimicked and parodied by other fellow actors, it only goes to show they touched a chord in the Filipino everyman.  

In some 250 movies where he probably punched all the thugs and gave back the stolen candy bars to their rightful owners, his character was not only our muscle but also our soul, a Robin Hood of sorts in our part of the world who delivered justice for the poor because it was denied them by the privileged and the greedy. His manner of delivering justice the Christian way did not only save us from boredom or tedium, but also “redeemed” us.  And for this, FPJ can hardly be replicated.

We confer on him the award because we seek to immortalize a paragon of the good—whose pains and struggles inspire us to always seek what is just. We choose to do this because we humans need a(nother) Christ-like figure whom we can emulate.  We take to placing one FPJ as such only because we need to remind ourselves that in everything we do, or despite our perennial struggles, we can always choose to do the good.

Kusóg

An kusóg kan satóng láwas saróng naturál na regálo satô. Puwedeng mapaáyo an satóng lawás kan ehersísyo, pagkakán, kalinígan sa láwas, sagkód an marháy na ginigíbo sa araaldáw. Alágad pirmíng laín an sinasábi kan media; mayô man talagang nahihirá sa naturál tang kusóg. Dai man kitá pwedeng magín mas mabaskog na labáw sa káya kan lawás na iwináras satô.

Ibá na man na uruláy an kusóg o baskóg kan kalág. An mga pílay o inválido o dawâ idtóng mga pigtaratsarán na maluya, sindá pa lugód an nagpapahilíng nin ísog asin báskog. Nakakagíbo nin kangangalásan sa kalág sa ísip sagkód buhay kan táwo an pagmâwot, an pagpursigí.

An síring nga kláse sang kusóg—kadaklán na beses alágad bakóng pírmi—naghaháli sa mga táwong igwáng tinugaán, igwáng baláan nga paninindúgan, may yarâ sang kamâwotan nga labáw o suwáy sa sadíri nindáng kagustúhan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

mapaáyo, maparahay

nga, na

sang, nin

may yarâ, igwáng

baláan, sagrado, banal

Susog sa “Strength” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Penguin, 1990, 92.

Kusóg

An kusóg kan satóng láwas saróng naturál na regálo satô. Puwedeng mapaáyo an satóng lawás kan ehersísyo, pagkakán, kalinígan sa láwas, sagkód an marháy na ginigíbo sa araaldáw. Alágad pirmíng laín an sinasábi kan media; mayô man talagang nahihirá sa naturál tang kusóg. Dai man kitá pwedeng magín mas mabaskog na labáw sa káya kan lawás na iwináras satô.

cruciality.wordpress.com

Ibá na man na uruláy an kusóg o baskóg kan kalág. An mga pílay o inválido o dawâ idtóng mga pigtaratsarán na maluya, sindá pa lugód an nagpapahilíng nin ísog asin báskog. Nakakagíbo nin kangangalásan sa kalág sa ísip sagkód buhay kan táwo an pagmâwot, an pagpursigí.

An síring nga kláse sang kusóg—kadaklán na beses alágad bakóng pírmi—naghaháli sa mga táwong igwáng tinugaán, igwáng baláan nga paninindúgan, may yarâ sang kamâwotan nga labáw o suwáy sa sadíri nindáng kagustúhan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

mapaáyo, maparahay

nga, na

sang, nin

may yarâ, igwáng

baláan, sagrado, banal

Susog sa “Strength” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Penguin, 1990, 92.

Paghâdit

Úkon muya mo sang mas námî nga terminolohiya—angst—(hambál sa Aleman), saro sana ining normal na ugali kan tawo. Sa katunayan, susog ki Martin Heidegger, sarong pilosopong Aleman, kaipuhan ta man nanggad an maghâdit sa satong buhay. Siempre an sobrang paghâdit—dawâ ano man na bagay na sobra o labaw, bakong marhay. An marhay kaiyan, susog sa sako nang inagihan, kun kita naghahâdit, maghâdit lugod kitang sagad. Kumbaga, sa modernong paghambal, career-on ta an paghâdit. Sabihon ta sa sadiri ta na naghahâdit ako ngonyan, dangan paurogon ko gid nga mayád an paghâdit na ini. Nin huli ta nag-aaram kitang marhay na naghahâdit kita, tulostulos ini malalampasan ta. Nagiging kabudláyan an paghâdit kun madangog kita sa ibán nga nagasilíng indî kita magparápanumdóm. An matúod sinâ, maghâdit ka kun gusto mo, alagad magparahâdit kang mayád sagkod na mag-abot an tiempong dai ka na naghahâdit.

Elmer Borlongan, "Grass Fire"

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

úkon, o

sang, nin

námî, marháy

nga, na

hambál, apód

gid, nanggád

mayád, marháy

kabudláyan, sákit

ibán, ibá

nagasilíng, nagsasábing

indî, daí

magparápanumdóm, magparahâdit

matúod, totoó

sinâ, sa árog kaiyán

Susog sa “Worry” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Penguin, 1990, 38.

Ehersísyo

Buot silingon an pisikal na pag-ehersisyo, nalangkaba na man na marhay kan iba. Siring kan ibang tawo, an mga inaapod na atleta o mga parakawat, nagkakagaradan man—bako man talagang mas haralawig an buhay ninda. Pwede nganing mas amay sindang magadan kawasa kan ehersisyo. Dangan kalabanan, bako man sindang orog na mabaskog ukon mas maogma kaysa sa iba. Matuod nga mas marhay gayod an pamatyag ninda—mas marhay an pagturog sagkod normal an timbang ninda.

Alagad mas orog na may kwenta an maayo nga pamatyag sang kalag. Marhay-rahay na mag-unat kita kan kalamias ta, alagad orog na igwang saysay an mag-unat kita kan satong panumduman, o paayuhon an salud kan satong kalag. Orog na igwang balor an magin baskog an satong kalag sa atubang nin Dios asin tawo.

Pansegunda sana digdi an gabos na ehersisyo kan lawas. Igwang merito sa baskog na lawas, alagad mas igwang biyaya sa mabaskog nga kalag. Kadakul sa makukusog na tawo mga berdugo; darakula mga kalamias ninda alagad an ugali daingdata.

Sa pag-ataman kan lawas, bastante na gayod na sa araaldaw, nakakapamus-on ka; kag nagpapalas ka kan kuko mo kun an mga ini haralaba na.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

buot silingon, gustong sabihon

kalabanan, kadaklan na beses

ukon, o

matuod, tama

nga, na

maayo, marhay

pamatyag, pagmati

sang, kan

paayuhon, pakarhayon

baskog, marahay an salud

baskog, makusog

nakakapamus-on, nakakaudo

Susog sa “Exercise” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Penguin, 1990, 100.

Pagkámainamígo

Atâ bako nang magasto, kadakula pa kan balyo. Dai man daa kaipuhan na sincero an saimong pagbugno: an dikit na pagbabalatkayo iyo an minapaandar sa makinarya kan komunidad tang mga tawo. Kun kalabanan, pinapahiling o pinapamatî ta sa iban nga muya ukon uyam kita sa íla, mayo kitang kinalaín sa mga kabataan sa day care center na tibaad pirmi sanang nagdidiringkílan nagkukurulugan naghihiribían kawasâ mga pusngak pa bayâ. Kaipuhan ta an minsan na pagsagin-sagin—ukon sa ibang pagtaram, pagpugol kan satong sadiri. Dai ta paglingawan an kasayúran sang una nga an sarong kutsarang tanggúli bako an sarong galon nin suka an minapadulok sa ligwan, na nagiging tabuán. Kun mainamígo kang marhay, tibaad an makidamay saimo gamáy. Alagad dikít sanang tiempong indî ka manîno, mayong tawong madulok saímo.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

pagbugno, pagtîno

kalabanan, kadaklan na beses

nga, na

iban, iba

ukon, o

sa íla, sainda

kabataan, kaakían

kasayuran, kasabihan

sang una, kan enot na panahon

gamáy, dikit

indi, dai

Susog sa “Friendliness” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Penguin, 1990, 101.