Monday, February 01, 2016

Second-rate, Trying-hard

Joey Ayala at Cafe Terraza, Roxas City, Capiz
ROXAS CITY—Wala nang original sa mga Pilipino artist ngayon. Pare-pareho na lang ang tunog nila; gaya-gaya lang sila. This was the essence of what Joey Ayala said during my conversation—well, informal interview—with him in October last year here.

The Mindanao-born artist also known as the “Karaniwang Tao” (from one of his hit songs ) was hinting at the consciousness of the Filipino music artists nowadays —and how their work is rather determined by Western influences. 


Through the auspices of the Capiz Provincial Tourism and Affairs Office (PTCAO) headed by Mr. Alphonsus Tesoro​, I had the chance to personally meet with Ayala during the Heritage Camp sponsored by Capiz PTCAO. And as per Tesoro, with the assistance of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts (NCCA), Capiz had the chance to see Joey Ayala for the second time.


Speaking before some 300 student participants at the Capiz National High School during the students semestral break, Ayala practically brought the house down with his rapport with the young learners and leaders who represented their respective municipalities across the province. 


Among other things, Ayala underscored how a nation’s history, heredity, culture, lifestyle and a sense of identity give rise or bear on the consciousness of the individual. For him, the consciousness of the Filipino is determined by his present dispositions acquired gradually through a generation of cultural influences.


In other words, the way we think is influenced by what only prevails in our culture and environment. So, if a Filipino child has long been taught that commodities from the United States are “original’ and therefore “cool” while all products made in the Philippines are “local,” such consciousness will hardly change in his lifetime. He will grow up looking to, patronizing and, yes, worshipping anything that is estetsayd (State-side).


So shouldn't we wonder why many Filipinos would love to pursue their own American dream? For one, not too many in our batch in high school remained in our locality. Subconsciously, it has been made clear that to be successful is to go out of the hometown and make it big in the bigger city where supposedly all the perks of t


echnology; a promising, high-paying job; a successful career; and probably a better life await.

As for the Filipino music artists, Ayala’s claim at the beginning of this piece rings true, indeed, even as growing up, we have come to hear our very own Filipino singers being carbon copies of the Western sensibility.


Upon hearing Ayala’s verdict, I easily recalled how my own favorite alternative bands Cueshe, Hale and a host of similar other bands who rose to prominence in the Tunog Kalye scene in 2000s, indeed, only resonated the vocals and acoustics of Creed, 3 Doors Down, and what-have-you.


You also have the likes of Arnel Pineda and Jovit Baldovino being hailed for singing just like Journey’s Steve Perry and other rock artists who could reach high notes. I also recall hearing over an FM station eons ago how Ilonggo Jose Mari Chan is said to be the Cliff Richard of the Philippines—because of his balladeer sensibility.


I also recall reading one review in the Philippine Collegian back in the 1990s, saying how Cookie Chua’s then-upcoming group Color It Red sounds very much like Natalie Merchant’s 10,000 Maniacs. 


Later I would read about Gary Valenciano being our very own Michael Jackson, owing to the dance moves of the perennial superstar; Regine Velasquez belting it out like Mariah Carey—though the latter later referred to the former as “A BROWN MONKEY WHO CAN SING;” then the list goes on.


I also recall my high school classmates Alfredo and Delfin (who are Roxette and Madonna die-hards, respectively) constantly berated the musical pieces of Original Pilipino Music (OPM) artists who, along with their U.S. Billboard chartmakers, also enjoyed airtime on FM radio stations at the time.


Talk of colonial mentality at its worst—talk of Western parameters always being used to critique Filipino artistry and originality.


So, are contemporary Filipino music artists, indeed, unoriginal—only rather best at copying what they hear? Or is their mentality so westernized already that they cannot help but sound like anything they hear from other countries—especially United States? Is it our consciousness that is so jaded enough to not anymore believe in what the Filipino artist can achieve?


My brief conversation with Joey Ayala has not given me answers; it only raised more questions.

Tuesday, December 15, 2015

Susog Salog, 2015

Susog Sálog: The Naga River Arts and Culture Initiative Manual for K-12 Teachers. 2015


Friday, September 04, 2015

Gayón

An pisikal na gayón na itinao sana sa tawo—iyo ni an kinakahâditan niya. Dapat orog niyang panumdumon idtong gayón na pwede niyang mapangyari o magibo; ukon itong gayón na pwedeng maparâ o mawarâ. Kaipuhan ta daw magin gayón o magin pirming magayón? Dai gayod. Bako sa sibilisasyon tang ini. Dawa ngani ginadayaw ta idtong mga bagay na mararahay—kaayuhan, kamatuuran, kagayónan.

Napabayaan nang gáyo an gayón sa mga panahon na nakaagi. Alagad ngonyan na mga panahon, an kagayunan na rugaring kan mga diyos sagkod diyosa kan mga Griyego—siempre pa, an gayon na nakukua sa marahay, maboot, marahay an salud, malinig, hipos kag mayad na paminsaron—an mga ini sinasabing rekisitos na ngonyan kan siisay man na tawo, bako na sana kan mga milyonaryo ukon mga tawong yaon sa pwesto. Manongod man sa gayón na naitao sa kada saro sato, dai kita mamroblema, dawa na babaye ka pa. An totoong gayón bako man gabos yaon sa pisikal na komposisyón.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
panumdumon, isipon
ukon, o
ginadayaw, inoomawkaayuhan, karahayan
kamatuuran, katotoohan
hipos, tuninong
mayad, marhay
paminsaron, pag-iisip
 
Susog sa “Beauty” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Press , 1994.

Hírak

Iyo ni an birtud kan mga santo—an kalangkabaan kan siisay man na kalag. An mga nagmukna kan darakulang pagtúo sa mundo nabibisto sa saindang kapas na magtios kaiba kan mga nagtitíos, na magsakit kaiba kan mga nagsasakit—ukon makidumamay sa pagmundo, pagsakit asin pagtios kan iba. An pagkamoot na dai nin pagkaherak bakong pagkamoot kundi saro sanang pagmâwot.

Dawa na ngani masasabi tang saro nang kalangkabaan kan kalag an maherak—na nungka magigibo kan tampalasan na tawo o kaidtong mayo sa sadiring hwisyo—an matúod na pagkahirak dai natatapos diyan.

Dae bastanteng malúoy ka sana. Ini ipinapadayon sa pakiistorya, sa paglinga; sa pagbulong, sa pagtabang, sa pag-ataman kan iba. Kun nahihírak ka, namomoot kang sobra.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
pagtúo, pagtubod
ukon, o
matúod, totoo

Susog sa “Compassion” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, 63.

Dúnong

Bakô man marhay, bakô man maraot; alagad sa kahaluyan, nagkaigwa na ini nin maláin na kahulugan. Ngonyan an dúnong daa—ukon tálî sa ibang pagtaram—an gusto nang sabihon pagmamaneobra sa búhay kan ibá ukon pag-adimuhán kan sarong tawo na makabentahe sa ibá. Sa sini nga tiempo, an mga maálam na tawo, nasasabi na man na mga túso. Alagad an madunong na tawo iyo idtong an ginigibo bakong suwáy sa háwak—sa gabos na oras siya marigmat. Sa kada hirô niya, minalikáy siya na an ibang tawo sa maráot dai madámay. An mga darakulang santo, praktikal na, madudunong pa. Kun an sarong tawo mayád, madunong siya man nanggad. Syempre man, bakong gabos na madudunong, mayád; kag bako man gabos na bakong madunong na tawo, mayád na tawo.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
ukon, o
sini nga, ining
maálam, matali
mayád, marháy

Susog sa “Cleverness” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes A. Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, 46.

Horóphórop

Iyo man nanggad ni an gustong sabihon kan librong ini. An pagpapangadie kaidto iyo na an paghohoróphórop ngonyan. Pakikipag-ulay sa Dios an pagpapangadie. Ngonyan na mga aldaw, pwedeng nagtutubod kita sa Dios alagad nadidipisilan kitang magtubod sa nagigibo niya sato, o sa puwede niyang gibohon para sato.

Dawa ngani an gabos na kaginhawahan sagkod kasiguruhan na nakukua kaidto sa paagi kan pagpapangadie dai nakukua sa paghoróphórop, kadaklan sa mga ini puwedeng makua. Mayo na man kitang ibang pwedeng gibohon pa.

Sabi ngani kan pilosopong Aleman na si Karl Jaspers, an buhay ta sarong patóod; dangan an dapat tang gibohon, tôdan ta ini. Maaaraman ta asin maiintindihan an kahulugan kaini kun kita may trangkilong pag-iisip; napapades-pades ta an mga sinasabing kolor kan búhay; namamatean ta an drama mantang nasasabotan an sistema.

Sa paghoróphórop, maiintindihan ta an buhay. Iyo ni an magiginibo ta sa parte ta.  Pwede ta man mahiling an kaliwanagan alagad bako bilang premyo, kundi komo regalo. Kun kita minatoktok sa pwertahan, dai man gustong sabihon na makakalaog na tulos kita. Alagad kun dai man kita magpanoktok, mayo man kitang tsansa.


Susog sa “Meditation” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, p. 26.

Monday, January 05, 2015

Alumni Homecoming

Susog ki David Ray

Abaana! Ano man daw ta nakabali ako
sa grupo kan mga polongóng iniho—
mayo nang giniribo ngonyan na banggi
kundi mag-irinuman tapos magharambugan—
túgbo digdi, túgbo duman, garo man daa
ngonyan lang naman nagkanuruparan.

Mayo na nin ibang pig-iristoryahan
kundi an saindang nagkágirinibuhan
na aráram kan gabos na man, mga lugar
na nagkádurumanan, mga chicks nindang
nagkátsaransingan—mga nagkágirinibuhan
nindang inda kun anong kamanungdánan.

Igwang nagharáli sa lugar mi pagkatápos
kaidto; tapos ngonyan pagkauruli, huna mo
sainda kun sáirisay na man daang Polano.
Pagkatápos kang tînuhon, mákua man daá
nin serbesa sa lamesa tapos dai ka kakauláyon—
garo dai kamo nagkáibahan nin pirang taon.

Yaon sana sa táid mo, mayong girong.
Ukon kauláyon ka na, masabi siya: dai ka
man giráray palán nag-iinom. Nin huli ta
kaáabot niya pa man saná, dai niya áram
na nakapirá ka na antes mag-sinárom.

Iyo ka man ngaya giráray: dai man nag-iinom,
mayo pa nin agom.  An ibang mga beer belly-hon
huna mo kun sáirisay na iriigwáhon, mga parainom!
Dai man daw an mga empatsádo nindang tulak
an iyong pinag-iimon kan saindang mga agom?

Yaon si Sulpicio, si Crisanto dangan si Claveron.
Padarakuláan nin tulak, pagarabátan nin buy-on.
Ngonyan, garo pa lugod sinda binabayadan
ubuson an pirang kahon kan serbesang dinunaran
kan mga kaklase pang nakabase sa Taiwan.

Kaya na sana man gayod an iba samo
amay nagkagaradán, nagkángaranáan
sa rarâráan sa kada taon na urulian.

Siring sa dati, mayong sistema ining tiripon  
apwera sa limang kahang baseyong
pwede na naman iarapon.

Mauli na akong amay—babayaaan ko
sindang agit-agitan naman magtiripon
sa bagong sumsuman na inorderan pa
sa luwas kan eskwelahan—inasal na hito
sagkod an pinaluto pang dinuguan.

Maagi an mga aldaw siring kan dati,
ma-check ako nin FB sa sakong Galaxy 3;
sa status message sa Group mi, dai ko
mangalas kun igwa na naman R.I.P. 


Wednesday, November 12, 2014

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

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Tendernesses


Where you grew up, hugging was not reserved between people with certain closeness and affinities. In some instances, hugging and similar acts of tenderness was also common outside the circles of family and friends.

Back in your small town then, you witnessed hugging between Cursillistas, the members of a religious renewal group called Cursillos de Cristianidad that had their heyday in the 1980s in your parents’ ancestral house in Bagacay.

Probably a precursor of the Couples for Christ, or those of the Parish Renewal Experience (PREX), the Cursillistas, among others, displayed physical manifestation of affection during Sampaguita, the third day morning’s fellowship when the new members were surprised and greeted by their family and friends, the old Cursillistas and sometimes even the barangay community.

Sampaguita was always sentimental and emotional even as the new members were literally showered love and care in the forms of, leis, embraces and words of comfort by their fellow Cursillistas. After having been made to realize that God loves them “despite” themselves, the new members were hugged by the old members to make them feel the love of Jesus Christ the Saviour.

But in your clan, you had also seen from people how to be showy about their feelings for others. Among your uncles, it was the youngest Uncle Tony who literally showed his affection to his sisters, your mother Emma and your aunt Ofelia. He did the same to his mother, Margarita and his father, Emiliano. The youngest of six, your Uncle Tony joked his ways around his folks with ease, his naughty antics soliciting laughter or extremely otherwise annoyance from those who did not patronize them.

Your uncle even earned the bansag (moniker) lâya, perhaps corrupted from lâyab, which hardly translates to an English equivalent. Roughly, lâyab refers to someone’s inclination to be soft or weak in order to earn the sympathy comfort or even affection of somebody else, who is usually older—sort of lambing in Tagalog, but not exactly.

Your grade school had also taught you something on acts of tenderness. Whenever two pupils were caught fighting or quarrelling, they would be brought to the principal’s office for interrogation. After they were asked to air their respective sides, they would be asked to shake hands and put their arms around each other’s shoulders to indicate that they have reconciled.

Then, they would be asked to remain locked as they were asked to go out of the office for all the students to see. This practice had become legendary in your small town—something which had drawn innocent laughter but also admiration from the parents and the community.

Nowadays, you realize that more and more people are learning to hug more openly. In some communities these days, you are now beginning to see that hugging and other similar physical forms of affection are becoming the norm.

Monday, October 06, 2014

Sa Telepono

Huna mo kun siisay ka; nakatiwangwang sana baga
sa ibabaw kan lamesa; mayong pakiaram sa opisina.

Alagad an matuod, pastidyo ka sa mga kadakul ginigibo.
Mayo ka man talagang sirbi sa gustong magtrabaho.

Sa hilingko, tinuwadan ka ni Kafka. Luminayas siya sa opisina,
saka niya nabisto si Gregor Samsa, sarong kalag na nabangkag,
por dahil sa hungkag sarong aga nagi na lang kuratsa.

Liniudan ka guro ni Eliot; maghapon dai ka inintindi sa bangko.
Nom! Nagpatuyatoy pasiring sa imprenta; dangan nagparapanlamuda.

Ano daw kun magtanog ka, tapos an makadangog ngaya saimo
si William Shakespeare, aram mo an sasabihon niya saimo? Hellurrr!!!


Saturday, August 02, 2014

Then & Now & Then

Back then, what you had was padalan or pasali, Bikol words for the more familiar Filipino term palabas. This referred to any film showing in the small barangay where you grew up.

This included the comedy flick Max & Jess featuring Panchito and Dolphy shown one summer afternoon in your grade school’s Industrial Arts building. It was probably led by your mother, who was then in charge of raising funds for the school’s non-formal education.


The movie was shown using a projector which flashed the film reel to a very big white mantel probably borrowed from your grandmother’s kitchen collection locked in the platera of the dakulang harong in the libod. The tickets were probably sold at P1.50 each for two features that provided some three hours of quality entertainment to your barrio folk.

There was also the health documentary sponsored by the Ministry of Health top-biled by then Minister Alfredo Bengzon, who gave out health advisories for the barangays. This was in the early 80s before Marcos stepped out of Malacañang. When it was shown in the Triangle, the open barangay hall, it rained heavily, much to the chagrin of some barangay folks who just went home disappointed. The others who did not leave the show made do with umbrellas and raincoats. But back then, the big telon was enough for them to get hooked: talk of being able to watch something on a big screen once in a blue moon. The documentary featured practices that can be adopted by the barangay folk to avoid diarrhea and dysentery, diseases that can be acquired from unsanitary and unhygienic toilet practices.

Then, there were the nightly treats of Betamax showing on black and white and later colored TV monitors in three key areas in the barangay.

There was one in the house of the Molata family which catered to the Baybay and Iraya residents. There, movies were shown inside the cramped sala of the Molatas, which was just inside their big retail store.

Bruce Lee
There was also the one owned by Tiyo Magno San Andres, a distant relative of your parents, who would clear his own bodega of grains and household supplies to make space for the nightly flicks of Bruce Lee, Dante Varona or Ramon Revilla, among many others. But you hardly had the chance to get in there, probably because you already enjoyed the free entry in your relatives’ “bigger movie house.”

This was your Auntie Felia’s bodega movie house where mostly new tapes were shown nightly for the entertainment of the barangay. Used as warehouse for copra transported in your Uncle Harben’s 10-wheeler truck from Tinambac to Naga, that place was in fact the biggest movie house because it could house 75 moviegoers or more at one time, particularly when it had no copra.

Yet, from time to time, moviegoers also sat on top of copra sacks even piled 10 times high while they revelled in Redford White’s antics or Cachupoy’s capers, or while they were kept alive and awake till midnight, enjoying the burugbugan or suruntukan in the movies of Fernando Poe, Jr., Rudy Fernandez, Rey Malonzo or George Estregan and a host of many other action stars. Talk of orchestra and balcony seating at the time.

Aside from the word-of-mouth shared by folks in the barangay, the nightly flicks were announced having their titles written  in chalk on your cousin’s green Alphabet Board displayed in front of their two-storey house just in front of Triangle, which for a long time served as the barangay market.

There was a time when the Acuñas’ bodega served as the official theater for the barangay, catering to the nightly entertainment of the folks—sometimes families (parents and children)—from Baybay to Pantalan and from Tigman and Banat, two bigger sitios situated at the two opposite ends from the Triangle.

When new tapes were brought in for the same movie house, you could expect a Standing Room Only; therefore, you could expect to be uncomfortable being seated or haggling for an inch of space with children your age, some of them even smelling rich of kasag (crabs).

Baad taga-Baybay ta parong-parong pang marhay an pinamanggihan. Linabunan na kasag tapos dai palan nagdamoy. (Probably from Sitio Baybay who had boiled crabs for supper and forgot to wash their hands afterwards.) Nom!

Among others, the Acuña movie house had the most strategic location, serving as the hub where most of the residents converged.

But that movie house would serve the barangay but only up to the time when your folks decided to settle and stay more permanently in the city. The kids, you and your cousins, were all growing up or had to grow up—so some things had to go. Besides, the place had only gotten smaller. (But certainly it was you who had grown bigger.) 

You had been initiated to the world of the movies at a very young age.

Growing up in that small barangay with all these movies you saw, you readily recall the pictures in your head: The loud and bright colors of the characters in Max & Jess, inspired from a komiks cartoon, only complemented the loud mouths of Dolphy and Panchito who raved and ranted against each other all throughout the movie.

There was also the sepia appearance of the Ministry of Health’s documentary flashed on the barangay telon, which only made it look like a news reel further back from the 1960s. You realize now that it was rather a mockumentary because at the time people were being taught on health practices under the rain, which had only ironically endangered their health.

And of course, the many varied colors in the smaller screen of your relatives where you probably saw—through the movies—all the worlds possible.

Now what readily comes to mind? You had the medieval heroine Hundra, which featured axing and butchering of warriors and amazons for most of the film; and the sharp colors of the characters in the animation Pete’s Dragon, which you must have watched with your cousins a hundred times only because unlike the rented copies used for the nightly showing, this was an original Betamax tape sent by the Acuña relatives from the United States.

There was also the flying dog in the Never-Ending Story; and the cyborgs in Arnold Schwarzenegger’s Terminator.

And of course there was the wave of melodramas favored by the women in your household probably because most of them were tearjerkers—from Dina Bonnevie’s Magdusa Ka to Maricel Soriano’s Pinulot Ka Lang sa Lupa to Jaypee de Guzman’s Mga Batang Yagit to Helen Gamboa’s Mundo Man Ay Magunaw, and a hundred other (melo)dramas.

These were the movies peopled by characters you would remember; characters whom you would, every now and then, find or seek in others; characters whom you would, in later years, see yourself become.

Back then, you got to enjoy a movie and even memorize the scenes in it only because it came once in a blue moon, as it were.

You always looked forward to one weekend when your parents would bring you all to watch the latest release in Bichara Theater in downtown Naga.

The whole week you looked forward to that Saturday or Sunday they promised because it surely would come with a date at the Naga Restaurant where you would be treated to bowls of steaming asado mami and toasted or steamed siopao—not to mention a probable new pair of shoes or a cool shirt from Zenco Footstep or Sampaguita Department Store.

But now, you have already brought home an audio-visual entertainment. You will watch a movie from your USB to your LCD TV, full HD, complete with the frills of the latest technology. Now the movie is only yours to play—and play back again and again and again, as many times as you like.

Back then, if you liked some scene in the film which you’d liked to watch again, you’d have to wait till the next feature so you would wait until you spend some three more hours inside the theater. But now, you won’t worry anymore. With your latest downloaded movie flashing on your 40” LCD screen, you can freeze that scene and relish the drama or action—complete with subtitles—to your heart’s content.

Back then, watching a movie was something to talk about with your siblings or cousins when you got back from the city. Now, watching a Torrentzed film from your USB drive is what you can only do because it would be so hard for you to talk to them who are thousands of cities away from where you are.

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. A...