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

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.

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!!!

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.

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.

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.

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