Thursday, June 26, 2014

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

Friday, June 20, 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”

Friday, May 23, 2014

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.


Tuesday, May 13, 2014

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.

Si Nonoy Ko Dakula Na


Darakulâ nang marhay an mga abága niya, 
garong si Houdini kadto pag inuurunát na kainí 
an hawák háli sa pagkákakadéna. Garo kansuarín sana 
kadtong pinapatúrog ko pa siya, sinusúlok ko 
sa tamóng luway-luway an sararádit niyang buól. 
Garo kansuarín saná kadtong pigbubulús-bulósan 
ko siya, pigtuturón-turón dángan sinasaló dángan 
kinakargá. Dai ko siya maladáwan na bakô nang aki. 
Dápat nánggad mag-andám na ako; dai na ko dapát 
mahadlók sa mga láki ta si babâ ko sarô na man. 
Mayo man lámang ni sa panumdúman ko 
kadtong uminulpót siya hali sakô—
sarong kinandádong kahón sa tahaw kan niyebe 
kan Hudson—inabrihan an pwerta, 
pigruluág an mga kadena, dángan kuminámang 
padígdi sa sakong mga abága. Pigpaparahiling 
niya akong garo si Houdini—pig-iistudyúran 
kun pâno makaluwás sa kahón, 
nakangírit tápos minapagápos. 


Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
láki, lalaki
mahadlók, matakot
panumdúman, isip
pig-iistúdyuran, pig-aadalan


Susog sa “My Son The Man” ni Sharon Olds, 1996.
Dakitaramon ni Niño Manaog, 2014.

Thursday, May 01, 2014

Truth about Cats and Dogs

Pagkatapos kong mag-Internet sa lobby kan International House ngonyan na banggi, nagpaaram na ko sa in-charge na si Michelle na mauli na ko.Nagpaalam na akong uuwi na ako.

Paluwas, nariparo kong igwang nakalukóng ído na nakabantay sa may lobby. Sinabihan ko si Michelle na igwa ka man palan niyako nin bantay digdi sa luwas. Palabas, napansin ko ang isang asong nakabantay sa may lobby. Kako may bantay ka pala dito sa labas, (sabi ko) kay Michelle.

Paglakaw ko pabuwelta sa kwarto, suminunod sako an ído na kansubago pa sana nagbabantay sa may lobby. Dai ko man inapod an ído alagad ini suminunod sako. Pighayô ko an ayam nin perang beses alagad nagparasunod sana ini sako. Noong naglakad na ako pabalik ng kwarto, bumuntot sa akin ang aso. Hindi ko naman siya tinawag pero bumuntot siya. Mga ilang beses ko ring itinaboy subalit bumuntot pa rin ito sa akin.

Pagkabalyo ko nin duwang building, yaon siya sa likod ko. Enot nagsusunod, dangan paghaloy haloy, nag-aabay na sako. Pagkadaan ko ng dalawang gusali, nandoon pa rin siya sa likod ko. Una bumubuntot lang; mayamaya, sumasabay na siya sa akin.

Pag-abot ko sa tugsaran kan dormitory kun sain yaon an Room 11 na tuturugan ko, yaon pa an ído. Pagdating ko sa harapan ng Dorm building kung saan naroon ang Room 11—andu’n pa rin ang aso.

Sa sunod kong pwertahan, nahiling ko igwang sarong ikós; piglalabaran niya an duwang ogbon. Pagkahiling sako kan ikós, nakilaghanan ini; luminukso dangan nagtago sa may mga tinanom sa garden. Nawalat niya an duwang ugbon sa may pwertahan. Sa sunod na pinto, nakita ko ang isang pusa; dinidilaan niya ang kanyang dalawang kuting. Nakita niyang mayroong paparating; nagulat siya; dali-dali itong luminukso palayo at nagtago sa halamanan sa di kalayuan. Naiwan ang dalawang kuting sa may pinto.

Kan pigkukua ko na an llabe sa bulsa ko, pigranihan kan ído an duwang kuting, Dangan nanggigil na garong makikikawat siya sainda. Alagad dai pa ngani napaparong kan ído an duwang ogbon, luminuwas basang hali sa mga tinanom an inang ikós, dangan kinamros an ining ído—an duwa man na ogbon kasingrikas kan ina nindang luminukso parayo. Dinudukot ko na ang susi sa bulsa ko, nilapitan ng aso ang dalawang kuting—nanggigil at makikipaglaro sa kanila. Pero hindi pa nga naaamoy ng aso ang dalawang kuting, kisapmatang iniluwa ng halamanan ang inang kuting at kinamros ang aso. Tumalon papalayong kasimbilis din ng kanilang ina ang dalawang kuting.

Nakilaghanan man nanggad si ayam; Dangan nag-arual na garong dinulak siya kan dakulaon na hayop. Alagad, mas dakula pa siya sa inang ikós.Talagang nagulantang ang aso; nag-arual siyang parang inaaway ng pagkalaki-laking halimaw. Pero mas malaki ito sa inang pusa.

Nagdalagan parayo an ayam. Nakilaghanan. Huminakay. Dangan ruminayo. Tumakbo ang aso papalayo. Gulat na gulat ito. Humikab. At saka lumayo.

Luminaog na ko sa kwarto ko. Pumasok na ako sa kwarto ko.


Hiniram sa Bikol
kinamros, kinalmot
nag-arual, umungol, umiyak

Thursday, April 24, 2014

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. 

Thursday, April 17, 2014

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. Burubuglanganthat’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.

LibraryBack 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).

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Medieval

“Ciudadano Liner” an ngaran kan bus
nakasurat sa Old English sa enotan
na windshield. Kamo man mga pasahero
hipos na nakarulunad as the bus now
negotiates a slippery road going to Tapaz.

It’s cold and overcast kasi may low pressure
daa sa Panay Island tapos dinugangan pa 
kan cold front. Ika man pasiring pa sana 
sa office nindo sa kabilang ibayo,
some three towns from where you stay.
Local government unit na, far-flung pa.

The driver maneuvers the bus and drives
like there’s no tomorrow. Almost a year
into your new assignment, you have already
noticed how the bus driver in this sordid part
of the world literally drives you crazy. 
Your six-wheeled carriage is running
as if a horde of bandits is chasing you
or kamo mismo an mga bandido carting away
your loot from a palace in a neighboring town.

Ano na naman daw an gigibohon
saimo kan mga dragon sa opisina nindo? 
Magpaparabuga na naman nin kalayo an boss mo. 
The self-declared king in your dungeon workplace 
will again cite your habitual tardiness, 
declaring to his vassals and serfs
your “barbaric” work ethic.

Bako lang ‘yan. Wawasiwason ka man
nin mga tsismis wala too kan mga kaopisina mo. 
Nakikinagbuan ka man kayang iyan ki Beth, 
an head teacher sa barrio, dawa na ngani 
may agom ka na. O dawa na ngani may agom ka pa. 

Nagdudungan kamo pag-uli. Last trip
sa bus paghapon. What can you say? 
Bombshell in distress mo siya; dangan ika
man daa, an “night and shining armor” niya.
Well. Who cares? Excalibur mo, taisa na.

Saturday, November 23, 2013

Man vs. nature vs. man

So far this year, the only authentic (and definitely hardly fabricated) newsmaker is the Typhoon Yolanda (International Name: Haiyan)  sent—not by God but perhaps by the gods of our own making—to make us think twice about our greed.

Bako gayod maninigô na basulon kan tawo sa Diyos an mga nangyayaring ini sa iya nga palibot. Sa hapot na tâno ta siring na sana kaini an sunod-sunod na kalamidad na nag-aarabot sa kinaban ngonyan, dai man gayod tamang silingon na an gabos na sakunang ini kapadusahan hali sa Diyos kawasa daing-data na man nanggad an tawo.

House at the side of the street in a Capiz town
Kun uugkuron, haloy-haloy nang panahon maráot an tawo. Poon pa kadto maráot na man nanggad an kostumbre kan tawo—orog na sa pakikiiba niya sa iya nga kapwa. Dangan yaon pa man giraray an pagtúo niya sa Ginoo—an takot niya sa Kagurangnan—na minapagamiaw saiyang siya nabuhay digdi sa ibabaw nin daga—bako sana bilang pisikal na hawak kundi bilang kalag na kaipuhan balukaton para sa kaomawan kan Poon-Diyos.

Alagad, tibaad mas orog na igwang kahulugan kun lantawon niya kun ano an sinasabi kan siyensya sa mga nangyayaring ini ngonyan na mga tiempo.

Daing labot an Kagurangnan sa nangyayaring mga kalamidad saiya ngonyan. An pisikal na kinaban kan tawo asin an kamugtakan kaini ngonyan—dangan kun pâno ini naging siring sa sini nga kahimtangan—tibaad iyo an simbag sa mga pangyayaring ini ngonyan na saiya pa man nganing kinakangalasan.

Pirming tama kun sabihon na an tawo man sana an may kagibohan kan saiyang sadiring kapahamakan. Siya man sana an mágadan kan saiyang sadiri. An gabos niyang ginigibo sa saiyang palibot—kan tawo sa pangkalahatan—iyo an máraot kan ining kinaban na bako man ngani siya an kaggibo.

Sa kahaloy-haloyi kan panahon, mayong pakundangan na inabuso kan tawo an mga kadagaan—mga kapatagan asin mga kadlagan—dangan an tubig sagkod mga kadagatan. Mayo siyang dai pigraot asin pigratak sa kinaban na ini. Mayo nanggad siyang pinatawad.

Kaya ngonyan padikit-dikit, paamat-amat, pasunod-sunod na siyang nagbabayad kan saiyang utang sa Inang Kalikasan. Alagad, kabalo bala siya na kaipuhan niya nang magbayad? An dipisil digdi ta tibaad mayo pa man nanggad siyang pagkaaram.

Pirang pildang na sana kan kalibutan an dai niya nahuhubaan? Tibaad mayo nang gayo. Gabos na kabinian kan kadlagan saiya nang winakasan. An gayon kan gabos niyang kadawagan saiya nang pighawanan, linaogan dangan sinamsam.

Sa istorya sang sini nga kalibutan, mayo na gayod mas maorog pang klase nin panglulugos an satuyang magigimâtan.



Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
sa iya nga, saiyang
husto(ng), tama(ng)
silingon, sabihon, sabihin
lantawon, hilingon
kahimtangan, kamugtakan
paamat-amat, padikit-dikit
kabaló, aram
bala, baga
sang, kan
sini nga, ining
kalibutan, kinaban


A street in a Capiz town after Super Typhoon Yolanda

Photos by Eduardo Navarra and Cora Navarra

Kamundúan

Grant Wood, American Gothic, 1930 
Dai man gustong sabihon na pag nag-agom na an sarong tawo, dai na siya mamumundô. Katubuan, idtong mga tawong minaagóm o minapaagóm sa saro man na habong mamundô, mamumundô man giraray. Dai mahaloy, mamamatean ninda na an pinakamakuring kamunduan iyo idtong mag-ibahan sindang duwa. (Hindi naman ibig sabihin na kung mag-aasawa ang isang tao'y hindi na siya malulungkot. Malimit, yung mga nag-aasawa o nakakapangasawa ng mga taong ayaw ding malungkot ay magiging malungkot pa man din. Di maglalaon, mararanasan nilang ang pinakamatinding lungkot pala ay madarama sa pagsama sa taong tulad din nila.)

Igwang tolong klase nin kamundúan. An enot iyo idtong kamundúan kan sarong tawong dai man nanggad nakánuod makibágay sa iba. Kun an tawong ini makaagom nin pareho niya, dakulon sagkod dakulaon an mga hahagadon niya sa iba. Dai niya aram na pareho ninda dai kaya; kung kaya sinda orog pang mamumundô, dai maoogma. Idtong pelikulangMarty manongod sa sarong surupgon na lalaking nakatagbo nin saro man na surupgon na babayi—dangan nagi sindang maogma bako man makatutubod. Garo idtong istorya ni Cinderella. (Merong tatlong uri ng kalungkutan. Ang una ay iyong lungkot ng isang taong hindi natutong makisama sa iba.)

An panduwang klase nin kamunduan iyo idtong yaon sa mga tawong kabaliktaran an pamatásan kan idtong enot na grupong nasambit. Sinda idtong mga tawong bíbo sagkod pamoso. Sinda idtong muya gid maging pamoso sa dawa ano na sana man na paagi. An mga arog kaining klaseng tawo mauurag sa negosyo sagkod sa pagkumbinsir sa tawo. Kadaklan sainda sa paghiling ta mga gwapo o gwapa, ukon kaaya-aya. Alagad an totoo, dai man talaga sinda tataó sa kama ukon mayong sinabi sa romansa—dawa ngani pwede tang masabi na kadakul na sindang nakapareha. An arog kaining klaseng tawo nasasakitan makiunóy o makiiba sa mga tawong saboót niya dai niya makakaya. Sa pag-agom o dawa sa anong pakikiiba sa kiisay man na tawo, kun dai akuon kan tawong siya pareho man sana kan iba, ukon halangkawon an hiling kan tawo sa sadiri niya, dai man nanggad siya maoogma, dawa na ngani dakul siyang kakilala o kadakuldakul barkada.

An pantolong klase nin kamundúan yaon duman sa tawong an paminsaron pirmi dapat siyang mauragon sa ano man niyang gigibohon. Kabali igdi itong mga artista, o mga manugsulat, mga intelektwal, mga kagrugaring kan mga kompanya ukon mga lider kan industriya. Kadaklan na beses, maboboot sinda kag maáyo duman sana sa mga tawong ila nga mapuslan. An mga arog kaining klaseng tawo mayong tiwala sa iba, dawa sa mga agom (man sana) ninda. Saboot ninda, mayo ni ano man na marhay na magigibo an iba. Para sainda an gabos na tawo kaulangan ta nganing maabot an kaogmahan o kaayuhan. Kaipuhan nindang an mga tawo kag tanan na mga butáng mag-ikot sainda.

Pwede sindang makaagom nin huli ta sinda magagayon asin makagagahum. Makakaagom sinda nin mga tawong makakatios kan saindang ugali, ugáring sa halipot na tiempo sana. Dai mahaloy an saindang iribahan. Kag maprobar pa sinda sa iba o minsan nagkapira—alagad nungka sinda matiwala. Sa saindang esposo o esposa orog pa sindang magpaparasuspetsa; nungka sinda maoogma.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon
pamatásan, ugali
gid, nanggad
ukon, o
paminsaron, pag-iisip
manugsulat, parasurat
maáyo, marahay
ila nga, saindang
mapuslan, mapapakinabangan
makagagáhum, makapangyarihan
butáng, bagay
ugáring, alagad
kag, dangan


Dakitaramon kan “Loneliness” ni William Lederer sagkod ni Don Jackson. Yaon sa Patterns: A Short Prose Reader 2d ed. Mary Lou Conlin, ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1988, 151.




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