Songs of Ourselves

Words and Music through Love and Life

Part 2 of Series

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Words and Worlds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Medieval

“Ciudadano Liner” an ngaran kan bus

nakasurat sa Old English sa enotan

na windshield. Kamo man mga pasahero

hipos na nakarulunad as the bus now

negotiates a slippery road going to Tapaz.

It’s cold and overcast kasi may low pressure

daa sa Panay Island tapos dinugangan pa 

kan cold front. Ika man pasiring pa sana 

sa office nindo sa kabilang ibayo,

some three towns from where you stay.

Local government unit na, far-flung pa.

The driver maneuvers the bus and drives

like there’s no tomorrow. Almost a year

into your new assignment, you have already

noticed how the bus driver in this sordid part

of the world literally drives you crazy. 

Your six-wheeled carriage is running

as if a horde of bandits is chasing you

or kamo mismo an mga bandido carting away

your loot from a palace in a neighboring town.

Ano na naman daw an gigibohon

saimo kan mga dragon sa opisina nindo? 

Magpaparabuga na naman nin kalayo an boss mo. 

The self-declared king in your dungeon workplace 

will again cite your habitual tardiness, 

declaring to his vassals and serfs

your “barbaric” work ethic.

Bako lang ‘yan. Wawasiwason ka man

nin mga tsismis wala too kan mga kaopisina mo. 

Nakikinagbuan ka man kayang iyan ki Beth, 

an head teacher sa barrio, dawa na ngani 

may agom ka na. O dawa na ngani may agom ka pa. 

Nagdudungan kamo pag-uli. Last trip

sa bus paghapon. What can you say? 

Bombshell in distress mo siya; dangan ika

man daa, an “night and shining armor” niya.

Well. Who cares? Excalibur mo, taisa na.

Man vs. nature vs. man

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

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

House at the side of the street in a Capiz town

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

sa iya nga, saiyang

husto(ng), tama(ng)

silingon, sabihon, sabihin

lantawon, hilingon

kahimtangan, kamugtakan

paamat-amat, padikit-dikit

kabaló, aram

bala, baga

sang, kan

sini nga, ining

kalibutan, kinaban

A street in a Capiz town after Super Typhoon Yolanda

Photos by Eduardo Navarra and Cora Navarra

Kamundúan

Grant Wood, American Gothic, 1930 

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

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

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

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

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

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

pamatásan, ugali

gid, nanggad

ukon, o

paminsaron, pag-iisip

manugsulat, parasurat

maáyo, marahay

ila nga, saindang

mapuslan, mapapakinabangan

makagagáhum, makapangyarihan

butáng, bagay

ugáring, alagad

kag, dangan

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

Ísog

pinoyphotography.org

An ísog hali sa kusóg-boót. An kusóg-boót iyo an may gusto; an ísog iyo an minagibo. An pagtaya kan sadiring búhay, an kabayanihan kan mga kapulisan, bombero, suldado, marino sagkod mga pilóto iyo an ísog kan kusóg militar. Alagad an pagiging sobra kaísog garo man sanang pagbutóg; an pagpapabilib na oróg bako man totoóng ísog, kundi hambóg. Saro an ísog sa mga pinakamagayón na ugali kan tawo. An siisay man na igwa kaiyan dapat tang hangaan sagkod pangarugan. Alagad mangalas kita, an tawo bako man pirming maísog. Pwedeng an sarong kampeon na boksingero matalaw man sa iniikot na baso. An dekoradong heneral pwede man magtarakig sa atubang kan dentistang magabot kan saiyang ba’gang. An tawong nakaabot na sa tuktok kan pinakahalangkaw na bukid sa kinaban, pagkahiling nin ipis, minapiriripit man. Dai ka masupog kun ika natatakot. Mayo man satong maísogon talagang marhay.

Susog sa “Bravery” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, 55. 

Pagtaó

regalintentions.blogspot.com

Sa pagtaó, kita an nakakakuá. An pagkamoot, utang na boot, pakikipag-amigo—mga bagay na minapagian sagkod minapaogma sa búhay ta—napapaorog pa kan pagtaó. Kadaklan sa mga palpal na tawo pirming mamumundo; madaling mawaran nin pag-asa; minsan nabubuabua. Igwang sarong kondisyon sa pagtataó. Ano man na itataó kaipuhan itaó tulos ni, na dai naghahalat nin balós, o pa-Dios mabalos. Bakong marhay sa kalag an magtao na igwang hinahalat na kabayaran. Minakurulog an boot kaidtong mga magurang na húgos sa saindang mga kaakian alagad dai man sindá kan mga ini namomo’tan. Pwede man mangyari yan, alagad bako bilang sainda kabayadan, kundi sarong biyaya sa sining mga ginikanan. An kaogmahan sa pagtaó yaon sa pagtataó.

Sinublian sa Hiligaynon

ginikanan, magurang

Susog sa “Giving” na yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, p. 84.

Animal Husbandry*

Mayong maogmang persona sa kadaklan na mga obra ni Frank Peñones, Jr., sarong manugbinalaybay na tubong Bicol. Kun igwa man ngaya, mabibilang sana sa muro an magayagayang mga tema sa iya nga mga rawitdawit. Kadaklan sainda mayo nin kaogmahan sa mundo. Sa manlaenlaen na rason. Kun ano-anong kadahilanan—ukon sa kadaklan na beses nin huli ta sinda igwang kabangdanan o kapigaduhon.

Enot sa iya nga “Panayoknok,” ukon lullaby sa Ingles, na sarong anyo kan talinghaga kan suanoy nang panahon, mayo nin linga, mayo nin aling—uda sang hingalo ukon diskansong mamamate sa iloy nga nagpapaturog kan saiyang aki. Nagpaparahibi an aki kan persona—kaya pinapaalo niya ini; alagad mayo lamang siyang ginahambal nga tibaad makapahipos diri. Ata nang gutom, gusto niya pa ining magturog nin hararom (“Turog na, aki kong bugtong/ magkaturog kang hararom.).”

Dawa ngani gutom na an aki, segun sa ina, tioson na sana daa kaini an naghihilab nang tulak (“an saimong pagkagutom/ biyo mo na lang ipiton.”). Dai na daa siya maghulat sa ama kaini ta dai na man sana ini magpuli (“Dae ka magparahibi/ bayaan mga pagmáte/ ta si tatay di mapuli/ binitin duman sa Saudi.”).

Sarong makaluluoy na ritrato an yaon sa piyesang ini. Kalabanan, an pinapaalo man sana kanpersona iyo an sadiri niya. An hagad kan aking nagpaparahibi pagkakan, alagad garo man nanggad tios na sindang maray ta ipiton na sana daa kaini an nagbuburukbusok na tulak. Waay et pagkaon na maihatag an ina sa saiyang kabuhan.

Dahil sa an agom niya ginadan, dai na maaling-aling kan asawa an saiyang kamugtakan. Daing palad na kamugtakan. Kaya na sana man, bisan an saiyang aki—na dawa puwede man ngani—indi mahatagan kan saiyang kaipuhan.

Sa “Agrangay,” yaon an primeval na drama kan búhay kan personang binayaan gihapon kan saiyang bana. Daing gahos na an asawang hilingon o tanawon an inabot na kapaladan kan saiyang rinimpos na kaibahan (“Dai na siya asin an kaya ko na lang ngonian,/...tanawon siya sa harayo”).

Nadakop an saiyang agom kan balyong tribu pagkasiod kaini kan sarong usang ngapit kakanon kan saiyang pamilya (“Naghali lang siya may kapot na mara/ may kapot na mara sa paglapag nin usa.”). Dai na nakabwelta an nasambit nang bana ta nasiod siya kan mga taga-balyong tribu (Duman sa bukid an tribo sa balyo/ an tribo sa balyo nahiling siyang gayo.).

Igwang kung anong kamunduan sa sini nga ladawan. Yaon an pungaw, sagkod ngilo kan dayuyu sa mga nagkapirang linyang inaawit dangan inooro-otro kan personang ini ho. Mayo nanggad mahimo an asawa para sa bana niyang nahihiling niya na sanang binubuno sa harayo.

Ano man nanggad an sala kan saiyang bana? Sa kadagaan kan mga barbaro kaidto maiintindihan ta na tibaad nakalagbas an lalaki sa teritoryo kaining balyong tribu— (“Asin pigbayaran niyang mahal, kan sakong mahal/ an sakong usa sa saindang abaga.”). Paglamag niya kan sini nga usa dangan niya nanuparan an mga nakakabalwarte digdí—o basi man nanggad mga kagrogaring kaini.

Lulusubon man ngaya kan sa ilang mga katribo idtong mga yaon sa balyo (“Ngonian na banggi mantang an sakong mga ka-tribo/ an sakong mga ka-tribo nagsasayaw nganing siya balukaton/ sa paagi nin mara na nakatukdo sa mga bitoon,/ mga bitoon na nagpupula na.”).

Alagad ngonyan mayo na siyang gahos na hilingon an gadan niya nang agom (“Dai ko kayang tanawon lang siya sa harayo/… Mantang nagsasayaw sinda palibot saiya/ palibot saiya, an saiyang payo sa puro kan mara.”).

Sa duwang piyesang binasa, iniistorya kan mga asawa na parehong gadan an saindang bana. Nakaistar sinda sa duwang panahon, nagdayo an duwang bana sa balyong daga—nakipagsapalaran ta ngani gayod mataparan an kaipuhan kan saindang mga kabuhan.

Sa duwang bana, dai nahiling si saindang pagkadakila yaon sa sakripisyo para sa ila nga ginahigugma—sa ibang kultura sinda nagkasala. An saro binitay, an saro man kinatay—trinatong garo mga hayop, mga animal. Pareho sindang ginadan dahil sa kasalan. Dangan man sa duwang obra, nagbabangkay sila sa ilang mga asawa. Nakaistar sinda sa duwang panahon, mayo sindang nahimo nganing masaylohan an inabot na kapaladan.

Mayong maogmang asawa sa sini nga mga obra ni Peñones. Para sainda mayo nin ogma ta mayo na nin bana. Para sainda, madiklom mapait an kapaladan nin huli ta sinda nabayaan.

Sa siring na mga pangyayari, sa mga realidad na pigladawan, tibaad igwang maghapot kun haen an kapas kan mga babaying ini na manindugan? Mayo. Bako man gayod siyang arog kaiyan kabalingkinitan—o ka-maselan. Igwa man gayod kusog an asawa ta nganing rimposon an pungaw kan kagadanan, ta nganing labanan an isog kan kapigaduhon. Maaanggotan si Peñones sa peministang iristoryahan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

manugbinalaybay, parásurát nin tula

ukon, o

kapigaduhon, pagtios

iloy, ina

sang, nin

ginahambal, sinasabi

nga, na

makapahipos, makapaalo
diri, digdi
maghulat, maghalat

makaluluoy, makaherak

kalabanan, magsala

waay et, mayo nin

maihatag, maitao

asawa, agom na babayi

sa ila, sainda
ginahigugma, namomo'tan

bisan, dawa

indi, dai

gihapon, giraray, man

bana, agom na lalaki

sini nga, ining

*Animal husbandry refers to the breeding, feeding and management of animals or livestock for the production of food, fiber, work and pleasure. (Source: Microsoft ® Encarta ® 2009. © 1993-2008 Microsoft Corporation.).

Identity Thieves

Ben Affleck’s Argo, which won Best Picture this year at the Oscars, is worth talking about. 

While Oscar winner director Ang Lee’s Life of Pi is a cinematic achievement in itself taking on a surreal approach to a real adventure story, it is the role playing of the characters in Argo that deserves a second look. Argo won Best Picture probably because the Academy members saw how it looked for a better way to tell a story.

Directed by Ben Affleck, Argo recreates the Iranian hostage crisis in 1979 after radical Moslem students stormed the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, seized some 66 Americans and vowed to stay there until the deposed Shah of Iran was sent back from New York to face trial. Opposed to Western influences, the Iranian militants released 13 hostages, but held the remaining 53 Americans, now demanding the return of billions of dollars they believed the shah had hoarded abroad.

The hostage crisis lasted for almost 444 days, marring the administration of then United States President Jimmy Carter, who was unable to negotiate their release. From November 1979 to January 1981, the Carter administration suffered a setback when it failed in an attempt to rescue the hostages. Negotiations were reported to have finally succeeded where war tactics failed.  

Argo zooms in on the plight of one Tony Mendez, CIA technical operations officer, who negotiated to save the six American statesmen who escaped from the embassy and sought shelter in the Canadian ambassador’s residence at the height of the crisis.

When Ben Affleck’s Tony Mendez tells John Goodman’s John Chambers, a Hollywood make-up artist who has previously crafted disguises for the CIA: “I need you to help me make a fake movie,” it is made clear how art, particularly filmmaking, is used to serve a higher end—and that is to save the lives of the diplomats caught in the social unrest.

And when John Chambers says, “So you’re going to come to Hollywood, act like a big shot, and not actually do anything,” the movie’s premise was now hinged on how falsehood can rather redirect everyone to seek the truth. 

Interesting in the film is the way the six American statesmen read into their roles given by Tony Mendez. There is much drama in how they assumed to be somebody else, i.e. as members of the filmmakers’ team producing a fake sci-fi, Star Wars-inspired Argo. 

Argo is a fake movie—a foil which Tony Mendez needed to convince Iranian authorities that the consulate staff who escaped are part of the production for a sci-fi movie. An action thriller itself, Argo was concerned more on the action of rescuing the hiding statesmen and escort them back to the States.

In the movie’s climax, the Iranian airport police, despite their vigilance and stone-faced authority, still fell prey to the foil that Mendez invented—Argo’s  Star Wars charisma did not fail to lure authorities away from identifying the diplomats, thus serving Mendes’ best intentions, as originally planned.

Although the Iranians were duped by the pop culture prevalent everywhere in the world, it is admirable how the world of movies served a purpose which should serve man—who himself created the movies.

Of course, Argo the movie within the movie is able to save the diplomats, even as Argo the bigger movie has established thrills in the cat-mouse chase which heightened the tension in the film.

Though the film is said to have made alterations from the real turn of events— especially for minimizing the role that the Canadian embassy played in the rescue, among others—Argo succeeds in bringing the audience to a heightened sense of thrill, which deserves a round of applause.

Obra et labora

Aga sa opisina nakatukaw ka sa imo nga lamesa, garo binubutingting an mga files sa saimong vertical folders. Garo igwa kang pigpaparahanap. Makiling ka sa wala, bubuksan an sulong-sulong kan lamesa. Maka’lot kan buhok ta garong naggagatol. Sa orasan mo, alas nwebe y media pa sana. Magagayon palan an pagkahilera mo kan mga folder. Matindog ka, magayon gayod magtahar kan mga lapis na ini. Haralaba pa pero pudpod na an mga puro. Taharan mo an duwa.

Sige, maglista ka kan mga tatapuson mo ngonyan. Ano na ngani to? Ano na ngani si huri mong project? Garo si folder sa puro an eenoton mo, bakong iyo? Garo baga dai pa natapos si sa sarong project. Dai pa palan tapos an ginigibo mo sa file na ito. Taposon mo muna to. Mag-apod ka muna. Apodan mo si kaopisina sa balyong department. Ano na ngani si tuyo mo saiya?

Sa poon, pormal man daa an pataratara nindo sa kada saro. Ito man daang obra sa opisina man nanggad. Ara atyan, mauunambitan mo saiya na nagtaas na naman an gasolina kaya garo naisipan mong mag-commute na sana pasiring sa opisina. Ay iyo? Maistorya na man si nasa balyo na pig-iingatan niyang dai magparakakan nin mahahamis kawasa at risk siya na magka-diabetes, sabi kan doktor niya. Hambal mo na logod saiya na updan ka niyang magparegister sa Mayor’s Fun Run sa Domingo ta nganing makaexercise man kamo, bako sanang anas trabaho. Sige na logod, atyan na lang. Tibaad magkadungan kamo sa lunch sa canteen, sabi. 

Haen ka na ngani kansubago? A, gigibuhon mo na palan itong surat para sa LGU, pero garo break time na. Magkape ka muna. Mantang nagkakape, habo mong pagparairisipon si mga ginigibo mo. Mapapanlingaw ka. Pagkatapos mabuwelta ka na sa lamesa mo, yaon an gibong dai mo matapostapos. Sige, poon ka na.

Nawalat mong bukas an door, ta garo mainit sa laog kansubago. May malaog na kabisto. Siya ni idtong saro man na parapalimanliman. Mabâbâ. Siya ni idtong kadakul aram na paiplî—tsismis sa opisina, mga manlaen-laen na kamanungdanan sa pamilya, mga kung anong uso sa Shangri-la o Divisoria; mga katuyawan sa mga nag-aasensong pag-iriba, sagkod kung ano-anong klase nin paghagad sang simpatiya.

Ika man pigpaparadangog mo nanggad siya, pareho kamong mga parapalimanliman. Sibot-sibot man daa kamo sa saindong ginigibo; dai man talaga kamo nagtatrabaho. Mga kabangang oras an masasayang sa urulay nindo. Mahali na an amigo mo kawasa nag-ring na an telepono. Sisimbagon mo. Nakangirit ka ta sibot ka na naman kuno.

Makukulbaan ka ta an nag-apod kinnukulibat ano na an nangyari sa project sa enot na folder kansubago. Masimbag ka saiyang kadakulon ka pa kayang pigtatapos. Sákô gid, silíng mo. Sige logod, sabi niya. Maghilingan na sana daa kamo sa amo ning oras sa amo ning lugar, para i-discuss idtong project. Iyo. Sa scratch paper mo sa desk, bibilugan mo idtong project na pinagiromdom saimo. Ini an eenoton mo.

Lunch na palan. Sige, pangudto ka na muna lugod. Sa cafeteria makakan ka. Igwang sarong kaopisinang maagi sa saimong lamesa. Namarapara? Kinukumusta ka sa saimong obra. Kadakuldakul kong gibo, masimbag ka.

Susog sa “Natural and Unnatural Time” na yaon sa Time and the Art of Living ni Robert Grudin. Nalagda sa New York: Harper and Row, 1982, p. 163.

Mother Tongue

The best times in your home were those days filled with laughter, because your mother would say words or speak a language that was so powerful that even now you still know what they meant—long after you’ve gone from there, long after she’s gone.

Your mother’s words we so full of images that she needed not say more to put her message across. She used a language to you, her children, which spoke more than it sounded.

Hers was the kind of language that you now consider very figurative—in its foremost sense, metaphorical—i.e. “expressing something in terms that normally mean another.”

Your mother’s language was graphic that it simply seeped into your consciousness with little effort, or sometimes none at all. You recall these words and phrases and surmise their sense and sensibilities one by one.

At times when your Mother would get angry at you or any of your siblings, upset by what you had done, she would say, "Mga ‘págsusulít kamo! or ‘págsusulít ka!" if she is just addressing one of you. She would say this to you, not so much as a curse but as an expression of resignation—but only when you gravely upset her.

She scolded you using a language that would not necessarily piss you off in turn but rather only make you think. Whether you received her scolding lightly or seriously, her words would still make you think—how could you even manage to ask what they meant if she was fuming mad?

From such words you now create your own meaning. Perhaps it came from the more complete ipágsusulít ka (kamo), extending it to mean, ipagsusulit kamo sa tulak kan ina nindo, which is very much like, “I wish you’ve never been born,” or to that effect.

With those words, she seemed to say that she regretted having given birth to you—this is so sad because she might as well be cursing herself—that perhaps you are one of her wrong decisions.

So you or any of your siblings would try to appease her, but sometimes to no avail. It would take the efforts of your Lolo Miling, her dear father, to make you say sorry to her, or to patch things up—only because she had already fainted and lost consciousness, something that would surely call your grandfather’s attention.

You would regret this because it entitled you to a “date” with the grand patriarch himself, who would “grace” you with his “sermon” once you were summoned to the Libod, your mother’s ancestral house, your grandparents’ domain.

Your grandfather was both a teacher and a military man—which made clear that any of you could not simply break your mother’s heart, or else you face him squarely. And if you’d done so, you’d now brace yourself for a harsher military rhetoric, both well expressed and eloquent. You might as well call it some “repentance regimen,” a bitter pill you deserved for hurting your mother.

When you reasoned out with him, or even started mumbling your own juvenile piece, your regime would now include kneeling on salt or mongo seeds taken from your Lola Eta’s farm. Your dear grandmother never even had a clue how her farm produce would end up helping her husband’s effort to ferret out justice (or you now retort, the lack of it).

All these were done if only to make you realize perhaps how and why you hurt your mother. Such was the extent of the love of one’s father to his daughter—that now you could only deeply desire to write something to immortalize it.

Exaggerations

Sa puro nin muro

Nagliwanag an altar

Asin sa samong atubang

Nagtindog an Pading Halangkaw

Binasa an Ebanghelio kan Aldaw:

“Sa ulo ng mga nagbabagang balita.

This Bikol poem titled “Ritwal” written by Bikol poet Frank Peñones, Jr. presents our disappointment from watching news TV nowadays.

At the tip of one’s fingertips, the screen lights up when he presses the machine’s button.  Then before the TV audience, the “high priest” stands and declares the reading of the “gospel of the day”: he starts reading the news.

Comparing news to the Daily Gospel spells the effectiveness of Peñones’s poem, perfectly mocking the reality how we the audience treat television with deference. But just as the audience considers news as gospel truth, Peñones’s reduces television to a ritualistic and routine endeavor, with both hosts and audience transformed into automatons.

And when the media high priest declares that what he has is “nagbabagang balita” (scorching hot news), the “ritual” is further reduced to exaggeration. It’s card-stacking and plain propaganda at its best.

It is tragic how television nowadays becomes the site of exaggerations of the real thing—and not as sensible avenue for critical thinking by the audience.

In particular, there is much pretense in how TV news anchors in this country convey information to the public.

Consider Mike Enriquez and Noli de Castro. These two—whom others now call institutions—tend to sensationalize every piece of information that their production team has prepared in the very manner they express it to the public.

First, Enriquez wins awards for his broadcasting style. I do not know why. But Mike Enriquez’s newscasting is pure exaggeration. He speaks so rapidly to the extent that it is only he who understands what he is saying. In a sense, you are rather only entertained—and not sensibly informed— by his presence.

In his every single appearance on news television, he seems to be eating his own words—but honestly, he sounds like a character in a comedy movie who rather mocks newscasting. More honestly now, he reminds me of Steve Carrell’s character in the Jim Carrey movie Bruce Almighty.

Enriquez should go back to his speech classes so he might as well observe slashes and double slashes when reading something. He needs to pause; and stop. So he can best be understood.

For his part, Noli de Castro has always sounded inflated all these years. In the poem stated earlier, Peñones is referring to Noli De Castro whose “Magandang Gabi, Bayan” augured well for the Filipino audience. And, well, as a consequence of his public identity, he became the country’s vice-president.

De Castro’s loud, imposing voice reading the country’s daily news gets our attention only because he reads the news with some kind of wild energy, making any serious item sound so utterly tragic and even a rather simple piece of information sounds very serious.

While it is good that he should project some verve, the right energy in reading out the information to the public, doing so in a pretentiously serious manner (as if it’s in critical condition) does not help the viewer much in sifting information for their own purpose.

The same thing is true in the case of other national newscasters including Ted Failon, Mel Tiangco and Korina Sanchez. What are they rushing for, anyway? Did the TV moguls ask them to read five or more news articles in 2 minutes or even less, so as to accommodate more advertisements in between their newscast? Okay.

When read by these newsmen, the daily news becomes so nerve-racking and tense. And upsetting. They may be tasked to heighten the public’s sense or awareness on social issues, but what they really do is to seem to always shock the audience even when the kind of information being relayed is otherwise lighthearted or even trivial.

Arnold Clavio, Vicky Morales, Paolo Bediones and others on primetime news TV can benefit from listening to how their forerunners really sound so ridiculous. They should not wait for the time that they themselves would be reading news at the rate of 1,000 words per minute only to rake ratings [when their time comes to be the leading news anchors]. But if they also do, by then they will have begun an era in which speed, not sensible information—is the mere yardstick of newscasting.

Can't they look to how news anchors over BBC, CNN or Australian TV appear poker-faced and sound composed even when reporting major news stories to the rest of the world? To these journalists, it is clear that their purpose is to simply convey information to the public without much sentiment so as to allow the audience to feel the thing—or sift the issue from the information—themselves. We can only admire how field reporters from across the world feeding news into big networks appear totally unruffled despite being situated in battlefields or calamity-stricken areas. 

Back in our country, with the way these news anchors race past each other—pataasan ng boses, making news and events appear that they matter even when they really don’t, it appears that TV networks only rally against each other to rake ratings for themselves.

The terms “News and Public Affairs” suck because all the networks care about is profit—each second on airtime is profit. It’s still the economics at the end of the day.

No Country for Old Men

The Commission on Elections (Comelec) in Capiz headed by Mr. Wil Arceño recently dismissed the forthcoming Sangguniang Kabataan (SK) elections as needless if not unnecessary, deeming it a futile exercise primarily because it is not the youth themselves who call the shots, but other members of the barangay or the community.

Comelec’s dismissal was revealed even as it also announced that the barangay elections will proceed along with the youth polls in October this year.

How important is the Sangguniang Kabataan? We randomly surveyed members of the voting youth—and what we got was a mixture of opinions. While one said that “Wala man gid obra sa SK (Wala naman talagang trabaho sa SK),” saying that it only exists during basketball games or pa-Liga sa Barangay, another quipped, “Depende man na sa barangay (It depends on the barangay),” adding that what is important is that the voice of the youth is duly represented in the barangay council.

While we now find ourselves contemplating the same dilemma, one barangay captain randomly relayed to us how this issue remains debatable. He said that there is nothing wrong with the senior members of the council interfering with the matters of the youth. Besides, they who ought to be the future leaders need to be taught or mentored on governance and everything it requires. This presupposes that the elected youth are naïve in matters of governance or say, implementing projects for their fellow youth constituents or even the bigger community. 

But it is a different matter altogether when funds reportedly appropriated for youth projects in the barangay are not accordingly given or shelled out for their purposes. Across the country, stories are told about how senior members of the barangay council or even the parents of the elected youth appropriate projects and funds for purposes other than the development of the youth. As such, the SK that prevails is still SK—only that it means Sangguniang Kamagulangan (Council of the Elders) or Sangguniang Katingulangan (Council of the Elderly).

As per the Local Government Code of 1991, the 10 percent of General Fund of the Barangay earmarked for SK “shall be spent to initiate programs designed to enhance the social political, economic, cultural, intellectual, moral, spiritual and physical development of the members.” The SK chairperson also serves as ex-officio member of the barangay council and is entitled to a barangay councilor’s honorarium.

The presence of Sangguniang Kabataan is the privilege given for the youth. Therefore, the best thing that the members of the non-youth in the barangay council can do is to let them speak out their concerns, without being dictated by anyone. Parents and the senior members of the barangay can only do so much as to provide for the youth and their well-being—perhaps extend to them pieces of advice on matters of how to improve themselves, but the SK privilege is not in any way reserved for them. Never should the senior members of the community speak or assert anything in their behalf.