Songs of Ourselves

Words and Music through Love and Life

Part 4 of Series

Besides my other brothers, Mentz has influenced my penchant for music, even as he has wonderfully sung and danced his way through love and life. 

Though he was not much of a child performer himself, he later has taken to the family program stage like a natural, class act as he has done to presiding matters for (the rest of) our family.

Years ago, I called him to be the Speaker of the House—i.e. our household—because he has hosted and also literally presided our family (gatherings) since 1996. One with a quiet and unassuming disposition, Mentz has always taken to the microphone as if it’s public performance.

Through the years, Mentz has been trained to become a very good public performer. At the Ateneo high school, he led the Citizens Army Training (CAT) Unit’s Alpha Company, a well-respected group finely chosen to parade to give glory to Ina (Our Lady of Peñafrancia) in September in Naga City.

Then in college, Mentz did not only win a Rotary-sponsored oratorical contest; he also served as junior representative in the college student council. And before graduating in 1994, he won a graduate scholarship at the University of the Philippines where he would later obtain his graduate degree. And because he went to Manila all ahead of us, I always thought he has been exposed to the world way before his time.  

In the late 80s and early 90s when he was making the transition from being a high school achiever to a college heartthrob at the Ateneo, Mentz played Kenny Rogers and Tom Jones on Manoy’s cassette tape. Sweet sister Nene and I would always joke at how he covered a singer's song better than the singer himself.

In those days, he deftly worded the first lines of “Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love to Town” as he cleverly impersonated the speaker in “The Gambler”—sounding more Kenny Rogers than the bearded country singer himself: "on a warm summer's evenin, on a train bound for nowhere..." For us, his siblings, no one did it better than Mentz. Not even Kenny Rogers.

Perhaps because I listened to him passionately crooning away Tom Jones’ “Without Love” that I also heard the lyrics of that song after the overnight vigil of the Knights of the Altar inside Room 311 of Santos Hall. I thought I was dreaming but it was in fact Mentz’s tape playing on my classmate Alfredo Asence’s cassette player. Truth be told, I could not do away with the passionate singing that I had carted away Mentz’s tape for that one sleepover in the Ateneo campus.

In 1995, Mentz brought Enya’s “The Celts” and Nina Simone’s collection to our new household in Mayon Avenue. He bought these tapes to fill in the new Sony component secured from Mama’s retirement funds. Most songs of these women sounded morbid but I loved them. Because I so much liked the voice that came and went in Enya’s “Boadicea,” I played it the whole day on my Walkman (which Mentz kindly lent to me) while writing my thesis on F. Sionil Jose’s Rosales saga.  

In early January of 1996, Mother would pass away.

When I played Nina Simone’s “Black is the Color of My True Love’s Hair” one night during mother’s wake, one of my brothers asked me to turn it off. Perhaps it was too much for him to take. That black woman’s voice was too much to bear. But away from people, listening to these women’s songs did not only help me finish my paper; it also helped me grieve. 

Among others, Mentz adored Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” Because this was the time before Google could give all the lyrics of all songs in the world, Mentz knew the words to the song by listening to cousin Maida’s tape many times through the day. While every piece in the collection is a gem, “Homeless” struck a chord in me that years later, I would use it to motivate my high school juniors to learn about African culture and literature. Talk of how the South African Joseph Shabalala's soulful voice struck a (spinal) chord in both of us.

Years later, when we were all working in Manila, I heard him singing Annie Lennox’s “Why” and miming Jaya singing “Laging Naroon Ka.” At the time, I could only surmise that he was humming away his true love and affection which he found with his beloved Amelia, a barangay captain’s daughter whom he married in 2001.

With my sister Nene, the household of Mentz and Amy in Barangay San Vicente in Diliman would become our refuge in the big city. Though Nene and I worked and lived separately from them, it was where we gathered in the evening as a family. Even as Mentz and Amy gradually built their own family, their growing household has become our own family. Through years, it has not only become the fulcrum of our solidarity; it has also become the core of our own sensibility.

Many times, I would be told how Amy and Mentz would go gaga over live musical performances by their favourite local and foreign singers. Once they told me how they enjoyed the concert of Michael Bolton, whom the couple both loved. I would later learn that Amy had a very good collection of Bolton’s albums from “Soul Provider” to the greatest hits collection. I wouldn’t wonder about it even as I have always liked the white man’s soulful rendition of Roy Orbison’s “A Love So Beautiful” since the first time I heard it. (But I think I wouldn’t trade off the Roy Orbison original.)

Years have gone by fast, and three children have come as blessings to Mentz and Amy. Once I heard him singing with his firstborn Ymanuel Clemence singing Creed’s “With Arms Wide Open,” indeed their anthem to themselves. Yman, now a graduating high school senior, has likewise taken to performing arts as a guitarist and an avid singer of alternative rock and pop. Mentz’s firstborn is one soul conceived by his father’s love for lyrics and heartfelt melodies and his mother’s love for Michael Bolton and a host of many other soulful sensibilities.

With Yman, and now Yzaak and Yzabelle, their vivo grade-schoolers (like the rest of today’s youth who can hardly wait to grow up) singing the words of Daft Punk and Pharell Williams from the viral downloads on YouTube, this tradition of song and sense and soul is subtly being passed on, with each of us now and then singing our own ways through joy, through love and through life.

Hamís

Dawa ngani naisurat sa saiyang mga oda kan Griyegong si Pindar an hamis na yaon sa mga kalalakihan, para sato, an hamís ukon sa ibang pagtaram—an pagkamalambing—balwarte sana kan mga kababaihan.

Mga niños kag mga lolos man sana an tinutugutan na magin lâyabon o malambing. Iba pa ngani an aton nga tawag sa amo sini nga pamatasan: swabe, aliwalas, o marahayrahay na ugali.

Dai sana itinutugot an pagiging malambing kan mga babayi, linalangkabâ pa ini, orog na an pagiging masinunod-sunod sa dawâ anong pagibohon sainda.

An pagigin mabuot asin matinao sa ano man na bagay iyo an minapaikot sa kinâban.

An matuod, mayo nin kasimpoderoso arog kan mga kababaihan. Sa satong sibilisasyon sinda nanggad an nagrereynar.

An babaying malambing—maogmahon dangan matinaúhon—iyo an pinakamagayon kag pinakabaskog na gahum sa aton nga kalibutan. Dai ni manenegaran, indî ni madadaihan.

Sarong diyosa si Venus—hinahangaan. Dangan kinakatakutan.

Sinurublian sa Hiligaynon

ukon, o

aton nga, satong

kag, sagkod

kalibutan, kinâban.

indî, dai

Susog sa “Sweetness.” Yaon sa Worldly Virtues: A Catalogue of Reflections ni Johannes Gaertner. New York: Viking Press, 1994, 72.

Si Nonoy Ko Dakula Na

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


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


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

Truth about Cats and Dogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hiniram sa Bikol

kinamros, kinalmot

nag-arual, umungol, umiyak

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.