Do Not Judge the Book by Its Cover

Ining mahibog na paperback
obra kan babaying nakablusang puti—
“our ground time here will be brief”–
an titulo niya, kaya gayod an author
mismo an yaon sa enot na pahina.

Ini man saro enot daang collection
kan hoben na author kaya siguro
mahipis man sana. Tubig an yaon
sa prantera—kun basahon mo garo
an mga obra maestra, barasa-basa
an papel kan gabos na tawo saiya,
lamos-lamos kaanggotan an kada rima.

May sarong tinatakan na “discarded”—
tapos sabi sa likod, magayon daa
an naenot niyang libro, poetry selection kan 1972. 
Dai mo tulos maburubuklat
an cover, first name kan author peter.

Igwang saro na gibo daa nin poet lauriat—
baad may mga appetizer an tula niya,
o igwang epigrams kada chapter ninda—
dangan haralabaon an iba, o an pira
pinangararan niya sa amiga; mas gwapa
kun raging an mga tsismis sa iba—
dai ka mangalas garo mahihinggustuhan ka.

Sa blurb man kan saro, kan ginigibo daa
kan author an mga obra, tinabangan siya
kan sarong anghel. Haloy man siguro sindang
nagdurog kan saiyang musa; kan dai sinda
nagkauyon sa sarong metapora, tinuwadan siya
kan kapareha; mayo nin ibang yaon
sa cover niya, kundi balukag na sana.

Magayon ining saro ta garo kadakul
pangyayari sa saro sanang tema—
an ama kan kag-obra. Tibaad nagkahilang
si ama niya, tapos narahay. Tapos nagkahilang
giraray, tapos narahay. Tapos nagadan.
Sa huring pahina, nagpaparataram an ama
sa irarom kan daga—an cover niya
garo dai matapostapos na lapida.

Babayi ginkawatan sa simbahan

“Babayi ginkawatan sa simbahan”—thus read the headline in Hublas several months ago. I was traveling to Roxas City at the time when I caught glance of this banner printed in big boldface. Just as I was about to make out something further on the paper, the Ceres bus had already wheeled away from the Tagbak terminal.


I thought it was fine. I did not need to read the news story anymore. The headline in Hiligaynon was enough for me, a Bikolano, to assume what it was about. I smiled.


I knew what the Hublas headline meant in Hiligaynon—a woman must have been pick-pocketed or stolen of her property while she was inside the church. Yet, if I found roughly the same headline on a Bikol newspaper, the headline would rather mean something more sinister than petty theft.


There were at least three words in the headline which I readily understood. In Bikol, “babayi” also means woman, and “simbahan,” obviously one coined from Tagalog, means church.


The third word—kawat—is also a Bikol word. The anomaly lies in the word “kawat” which is the content word in the headline, even as it determines the “what” of the news story. Minus the Hiligaynon prefix gin- (the Bikol parallel prefix is pig-), the word “kawat” in Bikol means “to play.”


Depending on the context given, the word “kawat” in Bikol means “leisure,” but can even be used to infer sexual connotation, as in “sexual play,” or like someone “played with something or someone and took for leisure,” as in “kinawatan” or “pigkawatan.”


It thrills me to know and understand these two amazing languages—Bikol and Hiligaynon. While there are countless words in both Bikol and Hiligaynon which have the same meanings or interpretations, there are instances wherein the meaning of one word means two different things, or extremely the opposite.


Take the case of the word “daog.” In Hiligaynon, daog is an adjective meaning “winning, or ruling over.” In Bikol, however, the same concept of competition is indicated by the word daog, only that it means the opposite—“daog” means someone who has lost, ironically not the one who won. Furthermore, the counterpart of Hiligaynon’s “daog” is Bikol’s “gana” or “nanggana;” while Hiligaynon’s loser, “perde,” is also “loser” in Bikol.


Bikol and Hiligaynon are two distinct languages perhaps born of the same parent. Or is it safe to say they are two peas in a pod? Sometimes, words in both languages mean the same thing; but in many other instances, they do not.


And as it turned out in this example of a newspaper headline so well phrased to capture the short-attention span of the street reader, the Bikol language turns out to be the more sinister, only if we consider the word “kawat.”


Reading it normally as a Bikolano, I found the story behind the Hublas headline rather tragic—a woman was sexually abused, or worse, raped in the church.


If at all permitted, the full Bikol headline would now read—Babayi pigkawatan sa simbahan” or “babayi pigkarawan sa simbahan,” which extends the meaning further away. Here, the use of the word “karaw” subjects the woman to all possible forms of abuse, superstitious, real, imagined or otherwise.


If we think a bit further, perhaps the woman who was stolen of her belongings in the church—if at all that was the story in the Hublas issue—was nothing but the Hiligaynon language itself being raped by the Bikol sensibility.


The expression is innocently accurate and truthful in Hiligaynon, but the Bikol’s understanding departs from its original sense.


It thrills me to know two languages—Bikol and Hiligaynon. Given a certain expression containing words that are actively used in both languages, I am flung open to endless possibilities of meaning.

Siling Ninda

Maurag ka, siling ninda.
Napalagda mo na sa Willprint
an bago mong mga rawitdawit.
Si mga tawong pinabarasa mo
nagkakabarangit; an iba nag-iirinit.
An lengwahe mo daa abang lanit.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, sabi ninda
maartehon ka man lang daa.


Uragon ka, siling ninda.
Pagkatapos kan si palabas mo
'urupakan si mga nakadaralan. Yaon
si Nathan Sergio pati si Mayor Robredo.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, hulit kan migo mo
maghanap ka na lang ibang magigibo.


Mauragon ka, siling ninda.
Nasurat mo na an haloy na kutang nobela.
Garo daa ki Gamalinda.
Tapos si Isagani Cruz pa an mabasa.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, siling ninda
may delusions of grandeur ka daa.

Duwang Tigsik

I


Tigsik ko ining mga akusado
pag may vista, baga na mga kutuhon
na kalaw garo mga rungaw-rungaw 


II
Tigsik ko ining abogada 
an edad garo nang kwarenta 
'laba na an dungo kahahambog 
mga rungaw pigpaparasururog. 






Susog sa Obra ni Gaile Prado, abogado
Oktubre 2004 

Firing Squad, Bagacay Chapel, June 1978

Dos anyos ka digdi na kara-karga kan ina mo—nakatukaw kamo sa puro kan halabang bangko. Dawa ngani minumuruta ka pa, sa liog mo yaon an gabat kan mga luha kan nabalo mong ina. Nagpaparahibi siyang nakahiling ki Manoy mo, matua nindong tugang. Hilinga an ba’ba’ ni Nene mo—an ngudoy na garo nang masasa’bitan nin kaldero sa laba, nagpapastidyo sa ina, nagngunguyngoy sa dai niya aram na pagkawara. Malinaw an sentenciang ginibo kan binayadan na ritratista. Sa sarong pitik kan lente niya, nakuanan nin ladawan an pinakamamondong istorya. Nakahilira kamong mga nailo sa halabang bangko, anom gabos—naghahalat nin sentensya kan panahon na ngapit pa.

Pig Latin

Pigpaparagiribo mo an mga bagay na ninonoynoy mo
na garo sinda mayo lamang nin kamanuelvillaran. 


Pigpaparadelosreyes mo an mga tawong piniperlas 
mo na garong dai mo sinda pagsasayasayan.


Pigbabayani mo an mga maerap sa banwaan 
na roxas mo saimo hali an mga kabibinayan. 

Pacquiao vs. Clottey

Minapoon pa sana an boxing sa TV paturuyatoy na an mga taga-barangay ta makikidalan sa tuytuyan na linagan nin telon sa natad kan kapitan.  Mayo nin malaog ngonyan sa tinapayan—mayong linuto na tinapay kansubanggi. Pagkahapon na pinapabaralik an tumatawo sa bakery. Yaon palan si ilusyon ni Jonalyn hali pang detachment sa Maysalay. Sabi kan daraga duman daa padayonon an bisita sa panaderya. Daing sabi sabi an duwa nagsarado sa panaderya. Pagkalaog pa sana ninda sa tindahan pigpaparahadukan na kan Cafgu an daraga. Dai nakakapalag an babaye sa purusog na pamugol kan bisita. An irarom kan estante nagpaparayugyog, an mga hurmahan nagkakahurulog.

Speaking in Tongues

Basi wala man gid sing kaayuhan

dito sa balat ng lupa. Tibaad an

tanan nga mga bagay sa kalibutan

waay man sing kamanungdanan.

Baad dai mo man kinahanglan matultulan

an mga pulong sang kamatuoran, if at all.

Is it not that you must live the very words

na inspired ni Bro & not just read about him?

Kay you’d just tend to ask more questions

re this Prince of Peace —the way, truth, life—

than just easily tag a photo of him.

Basi simpli sana man an boot silingon

sang mga sugilanon sa ginatawag

nga salvation history: An aton kaluwasan

Daw nabal-an na man kahit noon pa

ng sabi nila’y isang bula-an na poeta:

“Have Come, Am Here,” sabi niya.

Okun basi sakto gid man si San Agustin—

“My soul is restless” kuno “until it rests

in thee...” or something to that effect.

Bakong sabi ta simpli man lang?

An hapot eu ni, in ur lyf, wer &

wen & how ds He take efkt?

Garo palan bulong, may taking effect;

garo ordinance, may effect ti vi ty.

Bakong an sabi daa sana man simpli? Uni.

1 message received: “Wer na u? here na He.”

Magayonon Gayod Pag Gadan Na

Magayonon gayod pag gadan na ako.

Dai ko na mahahangos an mabataon

na tambotso kan mga awtong maaragi

sa kamposanto. Dai ko na mababasa

an tarpaulin kan pulitiko na ipinantrapal

sa kabaong ko ta nagparauran nin makusog

paglubong sako. Dai ko na madadangog

an hibi kan mga aki na nagdadaragian,

nagpapastidyo sa magurang kan mga nakilubong.

Dai na ko mabisa sa mga tiyuon na puru’nguton.

Dai ko na kaipuhan ti’nuhon pa an mga pinsan

kong hambogon. Matangis man siguro an agom ko

pero dai ko na madadangog an saiyang dayuyu.

Awit ni Awel

Papatioson siguro Niya kami dahil amay na nailo.

Saraditon pa an mga tugang ko, balo na an ina ko.

Paparaoton gayod an buhay mi, uya kami solo-solo

Gadan na an ama na kuta na mapadangat man samo.

Papasakitan kaming entiro; pirming madulok sa lolo.

Dai bastante an hanap kan inang pirming nadidismayo.

Papahibion an ina kong solo-solo sa saiyang agi-agi

Siisay an mapaalo saiya na nagtatangis barabanggi?

Papasukuon man nanggad gayod an saiyang ispiritu.

Ako man gustong mag-iskusar mabuhay, pero pa’no?

Papatagason an boot ko pero sa Diyos gayod ako masarig

Ako man sana daing magiginibo kun mayo nin kabulig.

Papakusugon an maluya kong boot; kami ni Mama matabang.

Magian ta magian an mga bagay na dipisil ming masarangan.

Papatingkalagon niya ‘ko aga-aga, mahagad tabang sa Kaglalang

Sabihon sako an ama dai man nawara, kundi kinua lang.

Papangyarihon an mahuyong boot, pirming nagsasarig, nagtitiwala

Sa kusog asin kapas kan Kaglalang, kan Bathala Na Iyo An Bahala.

Manuel Cepe Manaog

[23 November 1943–01 June 1978] 

Awit ni Awel

Papatioson siguro niya kami dahil amay na nailo.
Saraditon pa an mga tugang ko, balo na an ina ko.

Paparaoton gayod an buhay mi, uya kami solo-solo
Gadan na an ama na kuta na mapadangat man samo.

Papasakitan kaming entiro; pirming madulok sa lolo.
Dai bastante an hanap kan inang pirming nadidismayo.

Papahibion an ina kong solo-solo sa saiyang agi-agi
Siisay an mapaalo saiya na nagtatangis barabanggi?

Papasukuon man nanggad gayod an saiyang ispiritu.
Ako man gustong mag-iskusar mabuhay, pero pa’no?

Papatagason an boot ko pero sa Diyos gayod ako masarig
Ako man sana daing magiginibo kun mayo nin kabulig.

Papakusugon an maluya kong boot; kami ni Mama matabang.
Magian ta magian an mga bagay na dipisil ming masarangan.

Papatingkalagon niya ‘ko aga-aga, mahagad tabang sa Kaglalang
Sabihon sako an ama dai man nawara, kundi kinua lang.

Papangyarihon an mahuyong boot, pirming nagsasarig, nagtitiwala
Sa kusog asin kapas kan Kaglalang, kan Bathala na Iyo An Bahala.



Manuel Cepe Manaog
[23 November 1943–01 June 1978]

Do Not Judge the Book. Buy Each Cover

Ining mahibog na paperback 
obra kan babaying nakablusang puti—
“our ground time here will be brief”

an titulo niya, kaya gayod an author 
mismo an yaon sa enot na pahina.

Ini man saro enot daang collection 
kan hoben na author kaya siguro 
mahipis man sana. Tubig an yaon 
sa prantera—kun basahon mo garo 
an mga obra maestra, barasa-basa 
an papel kan gabos na tawo saiya, 
lamos-lamos kaanggutan an kada rima.

May sarong tinatakan na “discarded”—
tapos sabi sa likod, magayon daa 
an naenot niyang libro, poetry selection 
kan 1972. Dai mo tulos maburubuklat 
an cover, first name kan author peter.

Igwang saro na gibo daa nin poet lauriat—

baad may mga appetizer an tula niya, 
o igwang epigraphs kada chapter ninda—
dangan haralabaon an iba, o an pira 
pinangararan niya sa amiga; mas gwapa 
kun raging an mga tsismis sa iba—
dai ka mangalas, garo mahihinggustuhan ka.

Magayon ining saro ta garo kadakul 
pangyayari sa saro sanang tema—
an ama kan kag-obra. Tibaad nagkahilang 
si ama niya, tapos narahay. Tapos nagkahilang 
giraray, tapos narahay. Tapos nagadan. 
Sa huring pahina, nagpaparataram an ama 
sa irarom kan daga—kaya gayod an cover 
niya, garo dai matapostapos na lapida.

Sa blurb man kan saro, kan ginigibo daa 
kan author an mga obra, tinabangan siya 
kan sarong anghel. Haloy man siguro sindang 
nagdurog kan saiyang musa; kan dai na 
nagkauyon sa sarong metapora, tinuwadan siya 
kan nasabi nang kapareha; kaya mayo nin ibang 
yaon sa cover niya, kundi balukag na sana.

Speaking in Tongues

Basi wala man gid sing kaayuhan

dito sa balat ng lupa. Tibaad an 

tanan nga mga bagay sa kalibutan 

waay man sing kamanungdanan.

Baad dai ta man kinahanglan matultulan

an mga pulong sang kamatuoran, if at all.

Is it not that we must live the very words 

na inspired ni Bro & not just read about him?

Kay we’d just tend to ask more questions 

re this Prince of Peace —the way, truth, life—

than just easily tag a photo of him.

Basi simpli sana man an boot silingon 

sang mga sugilanon sa ginatawag 

nga salvation history: An aton kaluwasan 

Daw nabal-an na man kahit noon pa 

ng sabi nila’y isang bula-an na poeta:

“Have Come, Am Here,” sabi niya.

Okun basi sakto gid man si San Agustin—

“My soul is restless” kuno “until it rests 

in thee...” or something to that effect.

Bakong sabi ta simpli man lang?

An hapot eu ni, in ur lyf, wer &

wen & how ds he take efkt?

Garo palan bulong, may taking effect; 

garo ordinance, may effect ti vi ty.

Bakong an sabi daa sana man simpli? Uni.

1 message received: “Wer na u? here na he.”

Pig Latin

Pigpaparagiribo mo an mga bagay na ninonoynoy mo
na garo sinda mayo lamang nin kamanuelvillaran.

Pigpaparadelosreyes mo an mga tawong piniperlas
mo na garong dai mo sinda pagsasayasayan.

Pigbabayani mo an mga maerap sa banwaan
na roxas mo saimo hali an mga kabibinayan.

Siling Ninda

Maurag ka, siling ninda.
Napalagda mo na sa Willprint
an bago mong mga rawitdawit.
Si mga tawong pinabarasa mo
nagkakabarangit; an iba nag-iirinit.
An lengwahe mo daa abang lanit.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, sabi ninda
maartehon ka man lang daa.

Uragon ka, siling ninda.
Pagkatapos kan si palabas mo
'urupakan si mga nakadaralan. Yaon
si Nathan Sergio pati si Mayor Robredo.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, hulit kan migo mo
maghanap ka na lang ibang magiginibo.

Mauragon ka, siling ninda.
Nasurat mo na an haloy na kutang nobela.
Garo daa ki Gamalinda.
Tapos si Isagani Cruz pa an mabasa.
Kaidto, bago ka’yan, siling ninda
may delusions of grandeur ka daa.

Babayi ginkawatan sa simbahan

“Babayi ginkawatan sa simbahan”—thus read the headline in Hublas several months ago. I was traveling to Roxas City at the time when I caught glance of this banner printed in big boldface. Just as I was about to make out something further on the paper, the Ceres bus had already wheeled away from the Tagbak terminal.

I thought it was fine. I did not need to read the news story anymore. The headline in Hiligaynon was enough for me, a Bikolano, to assume what it was about. I smiled.

I knew what the Hublas headline meant in Hiligaynon—a woman must have been pick-pocketed or stolen of her property while she was inside the church. Yet, if I found roughly the same headline on a Bikol newspaper, the headline would rather mean something more sinister than petty theft.

There were at least three words in the headline which I readily understood. In Bikol, “babayi” also means woman, and “simbahan,” obviously one coined from Tagalog, means church.

The third word—kawat—is also a Bikol word. The anomaly lies in the word “kawat” which is the content word in the headline, even as it determines the “what” of the news story. Minus the Hiligaynon prefix gin- (the Bikol parallel prefix is pig-), the word “kawat” in Bikol means “to play.”

Depending on the context given, the word “kawat” in Bikol means “leisure,” but can even be used to infer sexual connotation, as in “sexual play,” or like someone “played with something or someone and took for leisure,” as in “kinawatan” or “pigkawatan.”

It thrills me to know and understand these two amazing languages—Bikol and Hiligaynon. While there are countless words in both Bikol and Hiligaynon which have the same meanings or interpretations, there are instances wherein the meaning of one word means two different things, or extremely the opposite.

Take the case of the word “daog.” In Hiligaynon, daog is an adjective meaning “winning, or ruling over.” In Bikol, however, the same concept of competition is indicated by the word daog, only that it means the opposite—“daog” means someone who has lost, ironically not the one who won. Furthermore, the counterpart of Hiligaynon’s “daog” is Bikol’s “gana” or “nanggana;” while Hiligaynon’s loser, “perde,” is also “loser” in Bikol.

Bikol and Hiligaynon are two distinct languages perhaps born of the same parent. Or is it safe to say they are two peas in a pod? Sometimes, words in both languages mean the same thing; but in many other instances, they do not.

And as it turned out in this example of a newspaper headline so well phrased to capture the short-attention span of the street reader, the Bikol language turns out to be the more sinister, only if we consider the word “kawat.”

Reading it normally as a Bikolano, I found the story behind the Hublas headline rather tragic—a woman was sexually abused, or worse, raped in the church.

If at all permitted, the full Bikol headline would now read—Babayi pigkawatan sa simbahan” or “babayi pigkarawan sa simbahan,” which extends the meaning further away. Here, the use of the word “karaw” subjects the woman to all possible forms of abuse, superstitious, real, imagined or otherwise.

If we think a bit further, perhaps the woman who was stolen of her belongings in the church—if at all that was the story in the Hublas issue—was nothing but the Hiligaynon language itself being raped by the Bikol sensibility.

The expression is innocently accurate and truthful in Hiligaynon, but the Bikol’s understanding departs from its original sense.

It thrills me to know two languages—Bikol and Hiligaynon. Given a certain expression containing words that are actively used in both languages, I am flung open to endless possibilities of meaning.

Tender Is The Night

Pundo na an tugtog sa baylihan;
Huna' ko kansubago bisperas lang;
Si Jun sagkod si Donna 'uruli na man.

Nagbubura an botbot, garo sa Iraya.
Hinaharana ako kan duros sa bintana.
Ta'no an palibot ko igwang pakima'no?
Mayong sindang kamanungdanan kadto.

Pirang banggi na an sakong nabibilang
An ba'na ko mapuli na kun haling oma lang.
Nuarin mauli an sinasabi kong agom?
Siisay an kukuguson ko sa diklom?

Mayo nang tawo pag banggi, iyo.
Dawa sisay gayod madayuyo
Sa ngilo kan pagsosolosolo.

Sa Tigman Kun Maduman Ka

Marambong an mga kahoy patukad sa bulod pababa sa kadlagan pasiring sa salog. Duman pwede kang magkarigos ning huba. Duman pwede kang magturog nin halawig.

Pasiring duman dai ka malingaw na maghuba nin bado ta ‘baad mawara’ ka lang sa dalan—an halas na masasabatan mo mabalagbag sa may tungod kan poon kan santol. Hale ni sa sapa man sana, papuli’ na sa hararom na labot; basug-basog na kan pirang siyo’ na pinangudtuhan niya; dai ka magngalas kun madangog mo an putak-putak kan sarong guna’ sa harayo; tolo na sana kaini an kaibahan na ogbon.

Sige sana. Magdiretso kang lakaw. Siempre mahalnas an dalan ta nahuraw pa sana baga. Maray man ‘yan ta dakul an tubig kaiyan sa salog; makakabuntog ka man nanggad.

Madya! magmadali’ ka ta ‘baad maabutan mo pa si dakulang uwak na minsan nagtutugdon sa sanga kan madre de cacao sa gilid kan salog. Siguro ma-timingan mo an gamgam na ining minsan nagdadakop nin mirapina o puyo sa hababaw na tubig kan salog. Haloy ka na sigurong dai nakahiling nin uwak; o magsala’ an manuparan mo lapay, tikling, o tagkaro: mga gamgam an mga bura’ nag-aapod nin gadan.

Sige, lakaw lang. Harani ka na; hilinga baya’ an agihan mo ta ‘baad mahawi mo an sapot kan lawa—obra maestra nin saday-saday na nilalang; mismong ika ‘sakitan marirop kun pa’no nagibo, bako ta sadit an hayop na ini, kundi ta an utak mo mas dakula sa saiya. Dai baya’ pagrauta an harong niya, ‘baad ika an maenot na masapot para kakanon niya.

Pag nakaabot ka na sa may dakulang gapo’, magtabi-apo ka nin tolong beses, garo baga palaog mo ini, permisong makalangoy sa salog na dakul na mga bagay o tumata’wo an may kagsadiri—digdi pwede kang magkarigos ning huba, ta an mga yaon duman mayo man nin mga gubing.

Maray man ta’ mayo ka nang bado’; arog ka na ninda, saro sa mga hayop kan magayon na kadlagan—ano pa an hinihiling-hiling mo diyan?

A, nahahambugan ka kan tagkarit na aba’ anang garo hade sa asul niyang balukag; nakatugdon sa sanga kan kamagong, tinutungkahal an saiyang kahadean poon sa may salog asta sa ampas. Dai ka magngalas ta ika saro sana niyang bisita. Magtaong-galang ka.

Siguro nadadangog mo na an duli-duling garong dagang nakadukot sa poon kan pili; maging alerto ka ta pag ‘yan nagbura’ na siguradong pupukawon an natuturog mong kalag [maski ngani mayo ka].

Hilinga an salog. Sa may libtong magayon maglangoy ta’ an tubig hararom. Malipot an tubig sa tiripon na raratang dahon. Ano na? Naghahalat na saimo an hararom na imbong kan tubig kataid mo an ribo-ribong noknok saka layug-layug; malataw-lataw ka, dangan iduduyan sa mahiwas na salog; para magpahingalo o maghingalo, para makaturog na nin halawig.

Sige na, Noy, dai ka na maghanap nin shower room; nauranan ka na baga; puwede ka nang magbuntog tulos.

Tagbang na! 

Ki Agom

Nagtutururo an su'lot mong palda;
Basa-basa an buhok mo; nagbuburulos
An basa sa angog mo,
Saka sa pisngi mo;
Nagtatakig-takig an ngabil mo;
Mari digdi nagparasain ka, Ne?
Nagparapauran ka na naman pauli?
Hubaa an blusa mong tumtom
Na nin lipot kan uran.
Tukaw ka digdi;
Punasan ko an payo mo; paimbungon
Ko an mga kamot mo; painiton
Ko an hawak mo. Nag-aalusuos na
Si sinapna ta. Gatungan ko
An kalayo nganing saimo
Igwang bagang dai masisigbo
Maski magparapauran ka pa;
Maski na magparauran ka pa.

Mientras Nag-aagi sa Payatas

Nagkukurundot na
an lalawgon mo
ta d'yata
maamputon an doros
na hinahangos mo
kan an jeep
magbaba na
sa may crossing
sa Montalban.

Paluwas na kita
sa nagkukurbadang
tinampong an gilid
bangin kun sain daa
perang bangkay
an nakuang itinapok.

Dai mo aram? Itong saro daa
hoben na lalaking
nakuang nagkikitay-kitay
sa sanga nin madre de cacao;
butog-butog an tulak, huba,
sagkod mayo na nin ikinabuhay

Si saro man daa gurang
na lalaking yaon sa sako,
mayo na man daa
nin payo;

Igwang sarong dai na mabisto
ta garo ragpa na daang
tinataranga,
o mas maray sabihon
inuurulod,
tapos an ibang parte
daa garong linaralay kan ido
pasiring sa highway;
may nagsabing babayi daa ito ta
may nakua pang bote nin olor
sa harani kan mga ragpa'.

Pigpaparatahuban
mong maray an dungo mo
baad mapot ka na man logod kaiyan
Okey lang yan!
Makaka-abot pa man kita
nin buhay sa Commonwealth Market.

Nahihiling mo 'yan
harong na an atop
dakulang lapang trapal;
an lanob perang
retasong lata?

Yan, o, may
sagrado corazon de jesus
sa irarom kan garong
tangkal nang istaran!
Nahiling mo si sala ninda?
Si kusina? O ano?
Kaya mo man mag-istar dyan?
Maray man.
Pero mangalas ka kun ta'no ta
bakong mga tuka-rig
an nakaistar diyan;
kundi mga tawong
naghahangos nin ampot
aru-aldaw.

Pagbuwelta ta atyan
dai ka na nanggad
mangalas kun ta'no
an duros maamputon.
pag-agi ta. Ha?

O ano, maiba ka sako
pag-uli ko atyan?

Ma-Congressman Ako

Nakapagdesisyon na 'ko.

Madalagan ako sa pagka-Congressman.

Kaipuhan kan satuyang distrito sarong diputadong may paninindugan, sarong tawong dai tulos matitibag-tibag sa tahaw kan anuman na kalamidad, itong dai tulos malumya sa anuman na baha na mag-agi sa satong mga banwa. Sarong kandidatong makapal an apog. Na iyo an magiya sa gabos tang kasimanwa sa pagsabat kan BAGONG UMAGANG PARATING.

Hahanapan ako nin sala kan gabos kong kalaban, kaya maray lang na mag-entra ako sa pirilian na ini na bistado kan tawo kun siisay man nanggad ako. Ma’wot kong mamidbidan ninda ako bilang sarong honestong tawo, sinsero. Mayo nin tinatago.

Maski kan ako sadit pa, paraikit na ako. Sarong aldaw igwang ba’gong kawatan na nagluwas kadto sa tindahan, aba anang gayon na ara-awto. A-piso. Mayo ako nin pambakal. May nahiling ako sa pitaka kan Ina ko. Paghali niya sarong odto, pinuslit ko si sarong Rizal dangan binakal ko si ara-awto. Wikwik na kaidto sa eskwela nagpaparakarawat pa kami kan kaklase ko sa libod kan eskwelahan. Aba anang siram magpasawa sa bagay na dai mo pinagalan.

Nagtutubod akong an tawo tubod sa sarong tawong honesto sa sadiri niyang kaakuhan, sa sadiri niyang kakundian. Kun magiging honesto lang ako, masarig sinda sa sarong diputadong mayong tinatago manongod sa sadiri niya. Kun gusto niya man nanggad, mag-LINGKOD sa iba.

An saibong na kampo mahanap ta mahanap sako nin labot—kumbaga, sarong lugad na saindang kakalkagon nganing magnarana’ pa. Mahadit logod sinda ta bubuligan ko pa sindang hanapan nin labot an sakong pagkatawo. Tubod akong sa ngaran nin pagpapakumbaba, mas pipilion kan tawo idtong kandidatong dai nagpuputik. Mayong balu’bagi’.

Totoo, nabareta kaidto sa radio, nagparapanlamuda daa ako nin mga tindera sa may Divisoria sa Naga. Mayo man na iyan maipahiling sa samo na Permit to Operate tapos maski price tag kan saindang mga paninda mayo sindang pakiaram. Kan sinita ko na sinda, siniri-simbag pa ako kan swapang na tindera (ano baya an magiging reaksyon mo?) Lintian. Saro akong advocate kan consumer’s rights. Sisiguraduhon kong an diretso kan parabakal harayo sa peligro. Gabos na tawo kadamay nanggad ako. Nom! Nagparahibi baga itong tindera, nakikimaherak na dai ko pag-embargohon an tinda niya. Pero an dai niya aram napapakiulayan man lang ako. If the price is right, talagang isusulong ko an consumer’s rights!

Arog ako kayan ka honesto. Ano man na panahon, sa nag-agi kong termino sa banwa, maging kan nagi na kong Kagawad sa siyudad, mayo man nanggad tinatago. Gabos na namamatean, dai napupugulan. Gabos na magustuhan, pirming may paagi para mataparan. Sa kadaklan na tawo, ako an hinahanap na sinceridad, saro sa mga kalidad kan lider na kaipuhan kan distrito ta.

Iyo, inaako ko, mga amigo ko kadaklan mayayaman. Ano baya an magiginibo mo kun ika an pinakamatali sa klase nindo sa College of Law? Kinua akong sekretaryo kadto sa Rotary, makasayuma ka daw? Maurag, pa’no. Haloy ko nang ma’wot makatabang sa mga programa para sa tawo. Sa Rotary dakul akong proposal na naisurat. Maray-rahay baga an kinaluwasan.

Dakul na proyekto an natapos ni Philip bilang district chair, dawa ngani pirang beses na pig-paparasupla siya ni Joey, an mayor kan siyudad na sadiring tawo niya man sana. Pero, dai ka, ta daradakula si commission ko duman kaya pirang semana bara-banggi kami sa Bistro kan mga amigo ko. Sa SIPAG AT TIYAGA, nanood akong manipa sagkod nungka nang mag-kakan nin gina'ga'. Digdi man mahihiling na ako an utak kan progreso kan tawo, dai manenegaran na an progreso mayo lang sa puso, kundi yaon sa GALING AT TALINO.

Itong bareta na dai ko pinadrinohan an parte daryo ko kan siya kinasal kan 2004 sa Tigaon, totoo 'to. Nungka ako masuporta sa tawong mayong utang na boot sa publiko. Inagom niya an aki kan jueteng lord, pa’no? Dai ko matios na madamay sa mga gibo-gibo kan tawong an mga kuwartang ginagastos sa saindang luho hali sa payola.

Sa pulis sana ako masarig ta sinda an mapuksa sa mga tawong kung umasta garo mayo nin pinagkakautangan. Kompiansa ako sa kapulisan ta, sinda an marumpag kan mga kaharungan kun saen an jueteng binobola ara-aldaw.

Arog ninda, ako sarong pusikit na paradaya sagkod bentausong linalang. Dai ako mabakli kan sakong ugali. Haslo man nanggad ko, maski kaidto, sagkod ngonyan. Huli ta ako honesto, mayo na 'kong baba'gohon sa sadiri ko mientras na ako nabubuhay.

Boarding House

Dai ka nagluluwas sa kwarto. Pa'no ka maka'laba kan uniporme mo? Mabaraha sa lababo dyan ka mabulnaw kan pantalon mo. Duman kuta sa may banyo sa luwas para mahiwas. Pero baad dakul an nag'aralaba. Yaon siguro si Bornok, 'sugoton ka. Pag nag-abot an kasera, 'singilon ka. Si A'ma mo mayo man pinadara. Ano, bilog na aldaw, digdi ka na lang mabula'tay? Pangudtuhan mo tada na pansit, malutong bahaw. Matara-ta'naw ka na lang sa bintana. Hihirilingon mo na lang an mga tawong nagáaragi sa tinampo. Dai ka na mababa. Maano ka na sana? Malusi-lusi. Bilog na aldaw kang matunganga. Nag'asarakat na si mga kaklase kan ka-boardmate mo sa balyong kwarto. Garo masirine daa sinda; ano ngonyan, Domingo? Maghapon, anong 'gibohon mo? Ma'bayaan ka kan aldaw. Kuta na saimo.

Anáyo

Pagkagios kan lalaking naanáyo,
susukulon niya an lanob gamit an sarong samod;
dangan maparakanta siya sa Sagrado Corazon.

Malakaw siya pa-baybayon pag-abot
kan sinarom. Pag-agi sa may kamposanto,
masasabat niya sarong kabaong; pinuprusisyon.

Malaog siya sa simbahan, pauli pa sana
an mga gurang; sa luludhan na garaba’ saiya
may masunson, “Nag-abot ngonyan si Mamo’.

Dapat nagpabendisyon ka saiya.” Hihiribunan
siya kan mga kanturang tapos nang mag-nobena.
Hihirilingon siya; sasabihan, “Dai ka pa baga

Noy, omay. Haen na man si Lucio?” Ipapalamag
ninda an pinsan niyang sa tangá pa naglahod. Maiba
sana siya pag ‘gakod na sa hikot an kamot niya.

Sa harong, dai siya mapamanggi kan sira.
Papainumon siya ninda nin dahon na gina’ga’,
sinalakan nin suka, haloy na tinalbong sa daga.

Pero dawa ipasantigwar siya ki May Guling
o ipahilot pa pirang beses ki Tiyang Onding,
an lalaking naanáyo dai na mabubulong.

Pag banggi, dai tulos siya makakaturog.
Atyan na matanga’ sa bintana siya masaprang
Ara-atyan pa, an bulan aawitan niya na.

Makaturog man, pero uum-omon siya;
Mangingiturog siya ki Mamo, kaiba an mga kantura
sindang gabos naghuhuruba sa may kapilya.

The way to a man's heart

is through his stomach kaya dai nagsayang nin oras si Janet poon kan duhulan niya nin Mentos si Danilo kan pabistuhon sindang duwa ni Chona Racadag sa may Education Building; asta an duwa magkauruyon mag-board ka Lola Quinang sa Queborac.

Sarong Domingo, dai nakasayuma an lalaki sa naggagatas-gatas na mango float ni Janet; maski siisay man gayod na nagparakamang sa carabao grass maghapon ta na-tripan kan palu-pagong opisyal sa R.O. maralaway sa kagutuman. Nom! Simot niya an mangga, asukar, gatas. Abaanang hamis, sabi.

Ta' mayong padarang bagas an ama niya hali sa Cararayan, 'sakupon daa siya kan babayi sa sinapna. Sasabayan niya na lang magluto sa mahiwas na kusina kan gurang na kasera. Pritos na bading abo, panduwahan nin kangkong na sinukaan sagkod tinawyoan. Tapos, nag-aalusuos an maluto.

'Pabayaaan na sana ninda an mga ka-boardmate na hurugak nang magruluto, makurunas daa kan tada. Masiramon gayod magkakan sa laog kan kwarto tinatangro siya kan karatula sa pinto, an sabi: Hello Kitty! Halat, ta mabakal muna siya nin yelo sa tindahan ni Mrs. Olarve; ilalaag sa pitsil tapos isasalod niya sa Nawasa.

Tender Is The Night

Pundo na an tugtog sa baylihan;
Huna' ko kansubago bisperas lang;
Si Jun sagkod si Donna 'uruli na man.

Nagbubura an botbot, garo sa Iraya.
Hinaharana ako kan duros sa bintana.
Ta'no an palibot ko igwang pakima'no?
Mayong sindang kamanungdanan kadto.

Pirang banggi na an sakong nabibilang
An ba'na ko mapuli na kun hali oma lang.
Nuarin mauli an sinasabi kong agom?
Siisay an kukuguson ko sa diklom?

Mayo nang tawo pag banggi, iyo.
Dawa sisay gayod madayuyo
Sa ngilo nagsosolosolo.

An Sapatero sa Iznart

Naghali na ako samo. Mayo kong
nakitkit sa imon kan tugang.
Pigkurua na ninda si parti ko
saka tinaranuman. Yaon ako
sa Plaza, nagpupukpok na lang.

Kanugon kan harong sa Pototan.

Your First Day Alone

Darakulaon mata niya, namumulaag, garong kakakanon ka.
Sa bâsug mo nanuparan pasiring ka sa eskwelahan.
Kuminutipas pauli ka maski dai pa retira.
Tuminago ka sa saindong platera, nagrurulungsi ka.
Nasabatan mo itong asbô sa libro ni Mrs. Paya.

Your First Day Alone

Darakulaon mata niya, namumulaag, garong kakakanon ka.
Sa bâsug mo nanuparan pasiring ka sa eskwelahan.
Kuminutipas pauli ka maski dai pa retira.
Tuminago ka sa saindong platera, nagrurulungsi ka.
Nasabatan mo itong asbô sa libro ni Mrs. Paya.

In the Library

In the library, the student
reads the dailies all the time
when he should be reading thick
hardbound books, reams of unbound
photocopies and scented paperbacks.

He better understands things
with headlines, pictures, quotation marks,
sidebars and captions—color, conversation, movement,
height, weight, breadth render flesh to abstractions
which are as vague as the next day,
blur like his significant other,
and seem the Sahara and Atlantic.

How come he prefers to devour the fish smell
of the cheaper pulp to the soft,
or hard covers which seem more edible
with some coffee-in the-table?

Inside the library, the student
each time finds a character immersed
in every day’s color, conversation,
movement, weight, breadth, depth.



October 2003

Horophorop

Susog sa “Meditations” ni Frances K. Ng

2000


Sa lindong kan mararambong na acacia,
Tinitiripon ta an mga simbolo
Kan mga nawara tang mga sadiri.

Sa lugar na ini kita trangkilo.

Sa limpoy, an mga lakad ta
Pasiring bako man sa pagsosolo-solo,
Bako man parayo sa pagsolo-solo,
haman na man kitang solo-solo.

Digdi iling tang nakikipagkawat an doros sa mga daon
Sa palibot niato, nadadangog ta an doros sa satong hinangos.

Nadudu’tan ta an kalayo kung kita nagkakapotan,
Dangan narerealizar ta an kalayo dai nakakapaso
kundi nakakatanyog.

Sa papel nakakapotan ta an init kan saldang,
Sa papel minadahilig an gabos tang katotoohan.

Kita man nanggad tubig, daing linderos, nagbabahod-bahod,
Nag-aantabay tibaad igwang sirang magpulag,
mabahod an doros na satong hinangos.

Nagi na man nanggad kitang mga Elemento.
Huna ninda kinorondenar na kita. Pero dai.

Sa pagtalbong kan mga pangaran ta sa daga na iyo man sana kita,
Nagigi na kitang mga amigo kan kadlagan kun saen kita sigeng rabas.

Bakon man peligroso an kalayo ta an tubig nagsisigbo.
Bakong bagyo an doros kun an kahoy pusog.
Bakong delikado an tubig kun an doros na nagpapahangos nanggad sato,
dawa sa madiklomon nang danaw.

Asin an daga iyo man giraray an inulnan ta,
Dawa ngani kita namundag na.

January 30, 2002

Ignorance and innocence

Sometime in the past, I happened to watch Gus Van Sant’s Elephant, a Palme d’Or winner in the 2003 Cannes Film Festival. Based on the 1999 Columbine school shootings in Jefferson, Colorado, the film documents the facts, fictions, and similar realities in US high schools.

The camera panned out to the typical day in high school where ordinary and working students, high-class family members converge in an academic institution to study, play, work, or simply endure the day.

The film outraged my sense of normalcy and sanity when it showed how one student in the school entered the school and started killing students, teachers, staff and everyone else in the campus, as if he is in a Counterstrike game. Together with a classmate, the rebel student barraged the classrooms and school buildings with his high-powered firearm that he ordered through the internet and was delivered to his home when his parents went out to work.

The other students who are the main characters in the story would either survive or end up dead—depending on the circumstances they were in. In the end, the boy killed his own partner when he did not have anyone else to kill. In fact, the movie ended with the same boy cornering a boy and a girl who sneaked into the cafeteria’s kitchen to escape the terror, to no avail.

According to a source, the Columbine High School massacre occurred on Tuesday, April 20, 1999 at  Columbine High School , in Jefferson County, Colorado, near the cities of Denver and Littleton. Two teenage students, Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold, carried out a shooting rampage, killing twelve fellow students and a teacher, as well as wounding twenty-four others, before committing suicide. It is considered to be the deadliest school shooting, and the second deadliest attack on a school in US History.

A website source cites that the massacre provoked intense public debate on gun control laws and the availability of assault weapons in the United States. “Much discussion also centered on the nature of high school cliques and bullying, as well as the role of violent movies and video games in American society. Several of the victims who were mistakenly believed to have been killed due to their religious beliefs became a source of inspiration to others, notably Christians, and led some to lament the decline of religion in public education and society in general.”

As a consequence, the shooting also resulted in an increased emphasis on school security, and a moral panic aimed at goth culture, heavy metal music, social pariahs, the use of pharmaceutical anti-depressants by teenagers, violent movies and  violent video games.”

This world of ours ever witnesses a culture of violence every single day. Watching the movie, though, has made me think how our simple acts of indifference and apathy creep into the souls of people around us; and how, in fact, such acts affect them to do something worse than how they perceived such indifference.

It has also sent me into securing materials that could otherwise promote love and cooperation among students in the school where I taught. Consciously I started using class-motivation materials which could instill a sense of teamwork, self-respect and love.

For one, I used Blessid Union of Souls’ “I Believe” to help seniors in their pronunciation exercises. It’s a second look at racism and how we can help trash such stale, prejudiced attitude. To discuss ballads with the juniors, I used Cesar Verdeflor’s “22 Años” and Noel Cabangon’s “Lea,” two modern folk ballads that highlight the lives of men and women in the Philippine context. I also shelved Roman Polanski’s Macbeth [1971] produced by Playboy Productions. I willingly did so because of its violent content—the decapitation of the king as he succumbed to the consequences of his own greed and vainglory.

On the other hand, I used Asin’s “Ikaw, Kayo, Tayo” in order to promote to the schoolpaper's staff members their social responsibility as future journalists who are critics of the present society. The song inspires in them they have to recognize their own roles in order to effect change in the society—which is I think—why we are teaching high school students in the first place.

More important, I contemplated using Noel Cabangon’s “Awit para sa mga Bata.” In that song, Noel Cabangon does make a staunch statement on having to destroy the barriers between youth of all classes in society. Social realities make it clear that people exist on social classes; they sometimes live their respective stratum in society, its respective needs and wants, its sense of values or the lack of them.

Today’s young people are the chances of this present generation to redeem itself from tyranny, moral degeneration, and the indifference of its constituents. They are indispensable aces in life’s poker game—so to speak—where players by the name of ignorance, gross lack of knowledge and immorality have everything destined for them.

Today’s youth are the opportunities in life that rather pass unnoticed because of the grownup’s shortsightedness and self-absorption. Such dismal realities are driven primarily by guilt for its past sinfulness and misguided militancy, efforts wrongly directed and motivations largely by angst and malice.

Let the children’s free will and intellect do much of the reckoning. Let their freedom allow them to be themselves—happy and free.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

The moral degeneration of today’s youth is determined by where—what environment, forces, influences, temperaments—they are situated, where they live. By and large, they just live the culture that imposes itself on them.

Life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,
And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,
And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,
And all work is empty save when there is love.
 

What's in a Name?

Names are simply wonderful. Take the case of these three that follow.

MILENYO
As far as we could remember, typhoons in the past were named after women or their nicknames. In 1970, we were submerged by the evil Sining; in the 80s, we were left homeless by the stronger-than-man Anding, and in the 90s, we suffered from the ravaging Rosing just before Christmas. Towards the new millennium, these destructive typhoons still bore these names, until the time the Philippine Atmospheric, Geophysical & Astronomical Services Administration (PAGASA) started a new nomenclature of these sinister weather disturbances, naming them Jolina, Manny, Isko, or that of any icon or symbol we Filipinos are familiar with.

Somehow, they became household names because they sounded so familiar—though previously, the entire irony is that these violent natural calamities are so named virtually after our very own mothers, aunts, or grand matriarchs—the ones who otherwise nurture us through our lives. Such move to change the system of naming typhoons is a nice gesture to the gender-sensitive and family-loving race that we are.

Meanwhile, Milenyo, the typhoon that recently ravaged the country, was aptly named because of the destruction of some provinces in our country. The name itself is a heavy one, [millennium means a thousand years]. In reality, a thousand years may entail a lot of things for us Filipinos. In this long span of time, many uneventful things can happen—from the lives and livelihood lost in the countryside to the worsened state of the urban poor in our major cities.

The hard rain and persistent winds which we must have ignored the past days was, in fact, destructive that it claimed lives of other people. This may have not mattered to us not because we are oblivious to the lives of other people but simply because “we are not affected”—it is okay even if it rains forever outside our homes, as long as the water does not flood our kitchen. But the headlines read, “Milenyo pounds Panay,” or “Wicked Weather,” so Milenyo indeed was not just another typhoon—it put some of our provinces in the state of calamity. What a sad country.

On a lighter side, those who named the PAGASA must be credited for the “hope” and optimism that the acronym provides [despite the bad news it always brings to the public]. While it constantly heralds the sad state of our weather, it also brings hope by telling us we can do much to prepare for such calamities. Like the other calamities that struck us, what should Milenyo teach us, then?

In any millennium perhaps, past or forthcoming, we can gradually teach ourselves that such works of Nature are not our creation; neither are they God’s imperfect creations. Some consider them one of his designs to make us seek him, occasionally. In the midst of all these misfortunes, the always best thing to hope for is the Divine Providence. As he himself said, he will be with us, for sure, in any millennium.

FRANKLIN
As in Franklin Drilon, the ex-Senate president. As in Benjamin Franklin, the great American. Aye, there goes the rub—the name bearer is quite obsessed with self-fulfilling prophecy, perhaps pressured by his name itself.

Drilon’s first name precedes him at least to him. His recent anxious political behavior must have been created by the pressure of the name “Franklin,” the American who was everyman—inventor, author, diplomat, everyone. I first heard this name in the late 80s, when Drilon was a member of the Cory cabinet or something. But through the years in public service, Drilon must have made bad and unfavorable choices in his career [sounds like the life of Rosanna Roces according to film critic Nestor Torre] that his name cannot just be plainly equated with his other namesakes [what other name could be more intimidating than the name of two American presidents]—Franklin Delano Roosevelt, or FDR, the great American president, and of course, Benjamin Franklin, the “lightning guy” in our Science class.

All his life, this former Senate president must have long thought of reaching the top, disposed to live the lives of these two American greats. But what has priced ambition? Or more aptly, what have priced ambition? Loyalty, sincerity, integrity, consistency [roughly, they all mean the same thing]—yes, these might be the costs of misconstrued militancy, of the very high idealism gone haywire. “Frank”ly, some people say the road to greatness is paved, and that it is the road less traveled because not everyone is fit to traverse it.

GLORIA
This is the first name of the president of the Republic of the Philippines. Despite the country’s economic ups and downs, everyone thinks that Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo is just commendable for having survived all odds—from the attacks of the opposition to the challenges posed to the Philippine economy by its rotting politics. True to her name, “Gloria” spells a person’s triumph or victory overcoming odds, or tritely enough, making the ends meet, for her countrymen.

For one, “glory” means magnificence, or splendor, or brilliance. Whichever way, GMA does some justice and truth with her name. Despite what her too cynical detractors think, this country is doing just fine. Despite what other people say that we have gone to the dogs, this country is doing just fine. Perhaps thanks to the people who do not matter much to Gloria—the nongovernmental organizations, the Church, and to the very least, the local government altogether help the country proceed to somewhere definite.

Despite what the media do to either inform or misinform us about the real stuff Gloria and her men [armed, most of them are] are made of, we can do just little to alter such reality because they are there to make things happen for us, unless we take our part.

So we can just be sorry if we do not bask in the glory of this present administration because we hardly see its benefits to us. If all else fails in our part of the world—from our backyard to the public school toilets—we cannot do much but bear the brunt—be more self-sacrificing, work in silence until the time everything is indeed tolerable in our country so much so that we could exclaim, “To God be the glory!”

Names are indeed wonderful. In some senses, they mean what they are—and as we have seen, they sometimes are what they mean. Three names, three senses, three insights—they make sense to us because we can make them mean a number of things, according to our experiences, according to our lives.

One Night in Smallville

In a way, the youth is simply wasted on the young.

I found this out last weekend when my wife Dulce Maria and I celebrated her birthday Saturday night at the Smallville, the famous gimik joint catering to overworked and beer-hungry young professionals in this city.

We were on our way out of the Pirates Disco when two young men started a ruckus at the comfort room area. Just in time, we were right there when the altercation started. The security guard mediating them was thrown off, so that he let them loose, and they scampered toward the narrow hall where they surprised people going to the CR.

After causing commotion from the comfort room [we found out that they belonged to two different groups at the Shipwreck restaurant], the group retreated out of the dining area towards MO2, the other establishment where they were chased by the guards. Later, when we managed to transfer to the Annex, as unruffled as we could be, we just heard two shots fired.

I did not know what else happened there. I, for one, chose not to get involved by seeming to ignore the ruckus, though almost everyone [it is human instinct to be curious of anything that is out of ordinary] seemed interested to find out what it was.

Whatever it was, I did not bother to find out anymore as Dulce became nervous about the whole thing. I just waited for her to go out of the Annex’s CR and calm down. Later, I asked the guard if it was okay to proceed to go out of the open street exiting to the Diversion Road.

I should say we were lucky that all these happened when we were already on our way out after enjoying a groovy hour-or-so routine of the D’Exposure Band who performed bubbly covers of Diana King, Shakira, Jennifer Lopez and other R&B queens. In fact, the ruckus occurred past midnight so that Dulce even conjured it did not happen on her birthday anymore.

Of course, what was most important was that we were safe. But I think we were saved from trouble because we chose to be so. Despite that people there seemed bothered by the fuss, all I thought then was that it was all child’s play, knowing that it stemmed from a rather immature act.

I could say the ones involved were too young to be young professionals. They were, in fact, students having a nightout. I could surmise they were students, college or maybe even high-school dropouts [at least, based primarily on their behavior]—whatever the case, they are members of an academic community where they are supposed to be taught manners—at the very least, self-control—simply translated—“keeping one’s cool.”

Sadly, businesses such as discos cannot at all control and even contain their clientele. The offenders [or more plainly riot-makers] were kids. They’re yet on their way to grow up. And because they “can’t hardly wait,” so to speak, they are there to make trouble because that is how they know they will matter, at least to their peers.

There is some truth when we pause to value the importance of respecting the elders [and what they say]. It is they who usually tell us to keep away from trouble [literally and figuratively]; they are also the ones who insist that we be obedient and kind—all these, in brief, kind of translates into—we have to “keep our cool.”

It's funny that we young people perhaps find such pieces of advice too folksy—baduy, makaluma, or even obsolete. In fact, though, they are rather conventional. By this we mean, they stick to conventions, or they are done according to the way things are usually done.

Doing something conventional means doing the proper way things are done because they make sense and because they simply save us from trouble. Indeed, the youth is wasted on the young; and the old, luckily, are old enough to know better.

Doyong

When I was younger, I would go to my uncle’s house to read old copies of Balalong and Bikol Banner, two city publications where my uncle worked as a serious journalist in the 1980s. Of course, these two papers folded up even before I could grow up—most probably because the politician financiers were ousted from “public service.”

Many times I would sneak into their house to read them, or simply look at my uncle’s article and photograph on the paper. The sight was interesting to me—someone was saying something and his face was there for the reader to see.

I would always want to see and [read] my uncle’s weekly columns. Some of them were prized possessions in their cabinet—piles of newspaper issues perhaps stored for posterity, until typhoons came and went and soaked them all to oblivion. I also heard [of] him as a news broadcaster hosting commentary programs on the local radio station. Later I just learned he stopped being a radio man.

Being the eldest son, Doyong, (the corrupted form of "Junior," or the more pejorative "Dayunyor"), my uncle would now and then publicly brandish his worth as a media person to us—his nephews and nieces—even his children—that principles are what he stood for, thus his work.

In my mother's family, he was the one who worked for the media. While my grandparents took pride in that, some folks—it seemed to me—just could not agree or were at all satisfied by the whole idea. Media work has always appealed to him that until now, I was told, he is still working for a political clan in Camarines Sur in most of their media or publication projects.

His love of words has been pervasive that in one of our clan reunions—sometime in 1985—her children [my cousins] staged a strike, hoisting placards protesting against “measures” enforced by Lolo Meling and Lola Eta [themselves the status quo owning the poultry and livestock that provided the grand family's livelihood]—perfectly mimicking the turbulent scenes apparent during the Marcos regime.

Just like any writer, my uncle has sincerely professed the love of words. He loves words, and fortunately he profits from it, not like other journalists and media persons who may have just been enslaved by it. My uncle has been a PR man most of his life—serving people in government positions. And as a journalist, he had many political connections. For a time, he even worked as vice-mayor in our town.

Just like a popular mediaman, he can easily ask projects from the governor or congressman of this clan—having been friends with them for so long now. And in one-time projects involving a large amount of money, his family is largely to benefit, his media practice is occasionally profitable that their lives suddenly change in an instant.

But like most journalists serving the interests of politicians, my uncle and his family would sometimes wallow in poverty—simply, that gross lack of means to sustain themselves. Many times he and his family went hungry because of such choice of profession.

But these were all before. Now, things have changed for him and his family as he has had his first set of grandchildren. His eldest daughter is making her own name in the provincial capitol; while all their children are three of their children are all settled. Things are simply looking up for my uncle and his family.

In the past, his love of words had long started a family and earned for it their means of sustenance—and truly, deprived them of better opportunities. Yet, until now perhaps—such love of words has not given him up. Or shall I say—he has not given up on what he has chosen to do all his life. 

How I Lived, and What I Lived For

In college I was approached by our neighbors to write letters to their foster parents under the PLAN International. Free of charge, I would write the letter for an American or German benefactor. After I had written the letter, the neighbor’s mother would send to our household food or anything that could pay for what I did. I hardly knew then that good writing skill could already mean business.

I myself was a recipient of a scholarship which required me to write regularly a Japanese benefactor on how I fared in school, how my grades were, and what activities I involved myself in. So I would write letters in English as I should, prolifically. I also remember the best thing to look forward to in a week was to get a reply from my pen friends. And I would gladly write them back. I even wrote to more than three of them at one time. I enjoyed exchanging ideas and sharing stories with them. They simply made my day.

All these nurtured in me the habit of writing letters, and more letters. Initially I was interested in it; but eventually I was hooked in it that it became part of my system.

Normally for a young student like me who preferred writing letters to dunking shots in a basketball court, I was being groomed to becoming a student writer. Having good English skills, in fact, is a prized possession in school, in college and in the world.

In high school, I began writing for the school paper. I wrote letters to friends constantly or whenever I had the time. Sometimes I really had to find time. I also kept a journal on which I recorded a lot of my ideas, observations, and privations and many experimental works. I was studying for free so I thought I better maximize the opportunity. I borrowed books from the library, and read a lot. English was one subject that I could not trade for any computer game—a leisurely activity which I could hardly afford.

There was no stopping me from reading books, or from making things out of what I read—poems, puzzles, imitations of sayings, and stories. But I was not really a recluse. More often than not, I was also playing ball with my cousins. I was also active in school clubs—these included writing cliques, collectors’ groups and similar stuff.

In 1996, I found myself working for a newspaper in Bicol. Then, I also wrote articles for Teodoro Locsin’s Today, a Makati-based national broadsheet which has now merged with the former Manila Standard.

Both working and writing, I did not stop writing and learning in English—also Filipino and Bikol. I wrote and sent articles and poems to national periodicals. My submissions were rejected and others were published. I even got paid for the ones published in magazines; but the newspapers hardly paid. The newspaper work did not promise compensation, but I held on to writing news and feature articles because I knew I was making sense.

I just kept writing, and with it, I easily found work in publication desks where I managed the newsletter and more importantly, “got to know some real people” [apologies to Sunday Inquirer Magazine]. For the past years I have been writing, I have been enjoying each moment of it. 

Hitler

Meet Hitler, Uncle Badong’s black dog.

Was he a cousin? brother? son-in-law? Of Gandhi.

I am not sure now. [What I am just sure of is that my uncles in the libod have been an educated lot when it comes to the affairs of the world that they named the best friends of their households after the icons of their lives.]

Hitler seemed notorious to anyone who would have to go to Uncle Badong’s house for any instance—her daughter Donna’s birthday bash, Sandra’s first communion, or Zaldo’s baptism. While relishing an exceptional maja blanca prepared by Auntie Dothy, any visitor would be gripped by this subconscious fear that he might be bitten by an otherwise indifferent and apathetic Hitler, that would from time to time be leashed and unleashed by his masters because of the dog’s unpredictable fierceness. Or maybe it was just the fierceness perceived because of his name but which has not at all been proven.

Hitler’s blackness was one of elegance. His hair shimmered in the dark, much like the dog in Madonna’s Frozen video. But his notoriety is forgivable. He was the buddy of the maternal Gandhi, and among us cousins it was knowledge that some of the later offspring came from this couple. While Gandhi was famed as one that would sneak in Auntie Dotie’s toilet to eat the fragrant Safeguard soap, Hitler was the one that roamed baybay [shoreline] by himself. I think he must have fathered some generations of dogs in that other sitio along the San Miguel Bay.

But the dog proved to be kinder than his German namesake. Maybe it was all his master’s rage that he named him after the German madman.

In the Chapel

In the chapel, you were never prepared to act out your faith, perhaps in the grandest manner, along with the worshiping crowd. There was always this force that kept you from being calm or still while you knelt in one of the pews. You just hoped you could hear a voice, One that you have always badly wanted to hear, but has never spoken a word.

Chinese Proverbs

Write a book.

Plant a tree.

Sire a son.

--An Aki

Write a tree.

Sire a book.

Plant a son.

--Ama Nia

Plant a book.

Sire a tree.

Write a son.

--Lolo Hun Nia

Special Non-Working Holiday

Gusto mong mag-uli sa San Nicolas.

Pero harayo an lugar na natubragan mo.

Nuarin ka daw makaduman giraray

sa kamposanto? Makabisita saimong

parte daryo? Makahigda sa may kamalig

sa libod kan dakulang harong?

Sa nagima'tan mong duyan sa Ilawod?

Ano na daw an hitsura kan harong?

Kumusta na man daw sa Joel duman?

Darakula na siguro si mga tinubong mo.

Ano daw, napagaran si moroso sa daga?

Napapaihi ka. Napapaudo. Atyan

makarigos ka na lang, tibaad mawara

sana ining mga guniguni. Siguro init kan

lawas sana. Ngapit sa aga mayo na 'ni.