I am not a poet. At least, I do not find it easy to write poetry. But the day after the November 23, 2009 Ampatuan town (Maguindanao) massacre, there was no way to turn down Philippines Graphic managing editor Joel Salud‘s call for writers of all stripes to create an Anthology of Rage.
I will post — with help from Joel — some of the poetry from those first 100 writers to respond. For now, here is my modest contribution to that anthology, the 4th poem ever written in (then) 47 years of existence.
I don’t make a habit of following the son of the late dictator Ferdinand Marcos. His dimples are cute and he looks a decade younger than his age (54, we share a birthday). But Imelda, with her black holes and cosmic rays, remains more interesting than the self-proclaimed “new leader for a new decade”.
So it was with curiosity that I clicked on a Facebook link sent by Katrina Stuart Santiago. It was a screen capture of Bongbong Marcos’ November 7 tweet. And it was met with plenty of grouching and griping. Most the comments focused on the senator’s alleged sexism, with a number of FB folk asking why people should even expect otherwise.
My first response: Is this genuine?
I searched Twitter.
There, indeed, is a Bongbong Marcos (@bongbongmarcos).
The offending tweet does appear on that account profile.
But there are all kinds of poseurs on Twitter (and Facebook). There was a time people were getting heartburn from the posts of someone masquerading as the Philippine Daily Inquirer’s Armando Doronilla.
Still wary, I asked if the Twitter account was genuine. A chorus of yesses.
A check with the senator’s staff brought me to his website, which also features his tweets. There it was, the “makeup” post.
I then asked if the senator was serious or joking. Also, whether he’d forgotten having a mother and sister in politics.
As a discussion ensued on Twitter, RockEd’s Gang Badoy piped up: “I thought the diss was on politicians in general being 2-faced the makeup part was a mere demo of the point?”
Former ABS-CBN anchor Gel Santos Relos, respondent of Gang’s tweet, replied:
“Maybe @bongbongmarcos should clarify such tweet, reads woman-specific to me, Mr. Senator.”
It sure did. But because Gang had brought it up and because a quote doesn’t float in a vacuum, I tried Google. The problem with many quotation sites is, precisely the lack of context.
The quote is attributed to Maureen Murphy. Together with a half dozen other quotes, the body of quips seemed to indicate Gang was right.
But there’s also precious little on Google about Murphy who, I deduced, had to be the Australian comic who’d appeared on late night shows. The other possibles were an Irish academic (I didn’t think so) or an American Republican politician (even more unlikely).
It drove me batty not to have more of a handle on Murphy and her quotes. Another google search finally brought up this gem of a feature from the LA Times’ Steve Lopez, a favorite of mine for his series (that eventually became a book) on Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, a homeless musician with schizophrenia who sleeps each night on the city’s Skid Row.
Lopez’s “Life as performance art for a family not bound by typical assumptions” almost made me forget about Bongbong Marcos and deciphering his tweet. It’s a classic Lopez feature, simultaneously chatty and lyrical, a story of two seeming ordinary women who turn out to be pretty special. It also explains why Murphy became, as she puts it, a specialist in “male put-downs”.
So, yes, sisters, maybe the senator wasn’t heaping scorn on women politicians . Maybe he wasn’t being sexist. Maybe, just maybe, he’s not quite like certain men who think they can squirt their sperm into every nook and cranny but expect their daughters to behave like nuns, or men who think the absence of an offspring doesn’t quite make a woman HIS, or men who think it’s a sin to use contraceptives but OK to philander to their hearts’ content. Maybe he was being self-deprecating. Maybe.
But there’s little to tie the senator and Murphy together. Certainly, their life experiences are just so disparate it’s hard to visualize they’re coming from one place. That’s what makes his tweet pretty much a classic case of (maybe, unintended) irony.
From the tumblr blog of "Mr Madlangbayan"
Photo from the blog of “Mr Madlangbayan”
Murphy’s comedy stemmed from “the battle of the sexes”, a time when women were desperately struggling to narrow the economic-political and cultural gaps between the genders.
Murphy’s mom had to flee from cops when she took her children away from an abusive spouse.
Mr. Marcos grew up in Malacanang Palace, with a mother who was one half of what critics called a conjugal dictatorship.
Mr. Marcos has a mother who loves regaling the world about how she single-handedly ended the World Cold War and how her Ferdinand admired her ability to fathom the true, the good and the beautiful. (Here are my FB notes on the Philippines Graphic 2009 interview series — Imelda’s Truth 1 and Imelda’s Truth 2.)
We have since had two women Presidents. The country is ranked 8th in the 2011 Global Gender Index — the top-ranked in Asia, with “perfect” scores in terms of closing the gender gaps in health and education.
Table from the Philippines country profile, Global Gender Index
Women in this country outlive men. Whether that translates to better quality of life isn’t quite clear; the Philippines still has to meet its Millenium Development Goals in women’s and children’s health.
More young women are graduating from high school and college than males. The gender gap in unemployment has also narrowed, though critics say that has more to do with so many women leaving hearth, village and country for hard, dangerous labor abroad.
There, too, seems to be a disconnect between that top rank in education and being 15th placer in overall economic participation. But an Inquirer editorial notes, this is changing for the better:
“In a research done by Grant Thornton International earlier this year, it was shown that Filipino women held 47 percent of senior management positions in the country, easily the best in the world and higher than the average by as much as 23 percentage points. The Department of Labor and Employment’s statistics show that women in executive positions outnumber their male counterparts. What this shows is that women have succeeded in boardrooms but not as much in workrooms.”
More women have also succeeded in politics, though many who do owe much to the power of political dynasties. Still, the numbers have changed enough to make Murphy’s fighting words now sound like something a hectoring, combative male might say. Which really is more of Raul Gonzales’ style rather than Mr. Marcos.
Even giving Mr. Marcos the benefit of the doubt, one feels a bit sad. Because if he, indeed, used the quote in the context Murphy first raised it, it does bring up some hard questions: Have women politicians changed our lives for the better? Have they reformed the political system? Or have they proven so good at multi-tasking that they are now beyond doble cara?
And really, we’d like to hear more about Imelda and political ideals from her beloved son.
Tony Perez, photo courtesy of the Cultural Center of the Philippines
Tanghalang Pilipino, the resident theater company of the Cultural Center of the Philippines continues its silver anniversary with will Tatlong Tabing: Three Plays by Tony Perez, September 30 to October 23 2011 at the CCP Tanghalang Huseng Batute.
“As part of the celebration, an exhibit of Tony Perez’s paintings will be mounted during the entire run of the production,” says a CCP press announcement. The press release breaks down the trilogy as follows:
Sierra Lakes is a tension-filled usap-usapan (dramatic conversation) that explores issues among four people caught in a complicated web of love and desire. It will be directed by Tess Jamias, an alumna of the TP actors company.
Bombita is a black comedy which questions the blind obedience and subservience behaviour of young rookies in the military. Funny, but almost in a pathetic way, it reveals the emotional and intellectual short-comings of our men in uniform. It will be directed by Dennis Marasigan, TP’s former Artistic Director.
Nobyembre, Noong Akala Ko’y Mahal Kita, a case study of the absence of love in an average, middle-class male in contemporary Philippine society, is part of the multi-awarded playwright’s thought-provoking trilogy about love, friendship and companionship, and their consequences in our lives. It will be directed by Tuxqs Rutaquio, one of today’s most sought-after theater directors.
“Tony Perez, who has spent over two decades eloquently dissecting the Filipino psyche, is an important playwright in contemporary Philippine drama. A prolific playwright with several volumes of published works, his plays deal with adult themes such as intense love, betrayal, separation, compassion, poverty, hunger, marriage, birth, and death. Dissecting the Filipino psyche, his plays deal with adult themes such as intense love, betrayal, separation, compassion, poverty, birth and death.”
If someone else other than Bb Pilipinas Shamcey Supsup had to win the Miss. Universe 2011 crown, most Filipinos would choose Miss Angola.
Few begrudge Leila Lopes, a 25-year old business student, the right to be called the world’s most beautiful woman. (That phrase is almost always reserved for the Miss Universe rather than Miss World.) Statuesque, poised and elegant in a languorous way, Lopes stood out in the crowd of 16 that hurdled the preliminaries. Angola and Philippines battled it out for the best smile. Supsup has a charming way of tilting her head, but there’s something to be said for a naturally regal bearing, best displayed in that brief pause before Lopes glided down the steps in her white, feathered evening gown.
Also Lopes, judging by her name and looks and worldview, seems to be a perfect queen for an increasingly multi-polar world, at a time of optimism for war-weary Africa. The Associated Press reports: ” Lopes hopes her victory will allow her to assist her native Angola further escape its history of war and impoverishment and said she plans to focus on combatting HIV around the globe.”
Very much in the “Yes, We Can” mold, Lopes sketches her passions, thus:
“I’ve worked with various social causes. I work with poor kids, I work in the fight against HIV. I work to protect the elderly and I have to do everything that my country needs.” And in answer to a post-crowning query about racism, the new Miss Universe was blunt: “Any racist needs to seek help. It’s not normal in the 21st century to think in that way.”
Notice that all of the above are of an inclusive nature, an endorsement for building social bridges and dismantling barriers.
So, yes, Miss Angola deserves that crown. I would have rejoiced had Supsup won. Still, cheering for your contestant shouldn’t blind you to the merits of her rivals.
But 3rd runner-up? That’s a bit rough, as other Filipino beauty queens have grouched.
Never mind her high fan rankings; that’s easily chalked up to Filipinos’ social-media savvy. (If China didn’t have that great digital firewall and those voting sites weren’t in English, that country would have broken the voting program.)
Even the most objective, rigorous among us probably ranked Supsup at least first runner-up. So what cost her the crown?
To predominantly Christian Philippines, Supsup is a heroine for her refusal to swap faith for love. Judging from social media posts, many Filipinos see the magna cum laude (UP Diliman) and architecture board exam topnotcher as proof that intellectual advancement isn’t synonymous with spiritual perdition.
In so many words, Supsup said the first person she loves is God and there’s no giving him up for anyone.
Now, if she had stopped there, Supsup would probably have won. Supsup would probably have gained points, too, had she equated love with respect for her beliefs.
RESPECT is the operational word.
Instead — and this may have been due to time pressure as much as to personal conviction — Supsup added, “If the person loves me, he’ll love my God too.”
There’s a chasm between getting a person to respect your faith and letting you be, and insisting that he/she should follow your faith.
There’s an ocean between standing firm for your faith and forcing conversion in the name of love.
Maybe, Supsup didn’t mean that but that’s what got across to the judges. In a world that has come perilously close to the brink because of perceived religious enmity, it was an uncomfortable reminder that even the nicest of people can add to Earth’s troubles.
I think — and could be wrong — that Supsup actually meant this: That she would, in all likelihood, fall in love with someone who shares her faith; that in choosing a life partner, faith would carry great weight.
That’s not only fair. It’s also logical.
Do you really expect an atheist to fall in love with a religious conservative? Would a Catholic man who sees pro-choice gals as demons even think of marrying one? (That’s not saying his fantasies won’t be filled with the same cast he wants banished to Sheol.)
Fall in lust, maybe, but forget about love. A Democrat and a Republican may come to a compromise. But faith, for better or worse, casts a greater shadow (or light) over our lives.
And for all that Harlequin novels and bodice-rippers send us hyperventilating with tales of sun and moon, night and day, king and beggar girl, scientific evidence show that long-term success needs to be based on shared qualities.
No, you don’t have to marry your twin or shadow — but you need something to talk about before and after sex, to put it bluntly. That tsunami of lust will recede.
LiveScience also notes a study conducted by the University of Iowa in 2005, where results showed
“…that similarity in personality was more important than similarities in attitude, religion, and values in forming a happy marriage. Like-minded people validate each other’s beliefs and views, and there tend to be fewer conflicts as a result.”
Tabloids have recently seized on the rumored romance between Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds, both of whom recently broke off marriages with people perceived to be in some ways their opposite. Bullock, whose public image is Hollywood’s girl next door, ditched tattooed biker husband Jesse James of Monster Garage fame, while Reynolds, a happy-go-lucky funny guy, called it off with the relatively artsy and ice-cool Scarlett Johansson. Their break-ups serve as a reminder that whatever Hollywood movies—even their own!—preach, the most successful relationships are like-meets-like.
Slate adds:
It’s an established tenet of social psychology that similarities rather than differences—whether in attitude, personality, age, income, race, or religion—produce a lasting relationship. “Opposites tend to attract in the short term, but not in the long-term,” says Catherine Sanderson, a psychology professor at Amherst College who teaches a class on close relationships. “Over the long haul, one of the bigger predictors of success in relationships and marriages is similarity.” (A marriage between people with similar qualities is known as homogamy.) There’s less to fight about, for one thing. People from different religious backgrounds might want to raise children in different traditions, or those from disparate economic backgrounds might clash on the importance of education. Agreement, meanwhile—whether on movies, restaurants, religion, or favorite romantic comedies—produces positive emotions and more fruitful relationships. (It’s also true that similar people are more likely to meet each other in the first place: If you like sports, you’re more likely to be in situations where you’ll run into other sports lovers.)
Shamcey was coming from one direction, the judges from another. Our Bb Pilipinas may not not have been politically correct. We may not even agree with her. But there are as many realities in this world as there are people. Shamcey was being true to hers. And that, to her beau and kin, may be the only thing that matters.
Huwag kang magulat sa pambungad ko. Matagal-tagal ko na ding nalampasan ang paghati sa mundo sa kampo ng mga kasama at ang mga kaaway. Saka kailanma’y di naman naging permanente yang mga labels na iyan. Di kailangang maniwala kay Mao para malaman na may mga panahong dapat isangtabi ang hidwaan nang makapag-ipon ng lakas para sa malaki at mahalagang pakikibaka.
Taga-Tarlac ka naman; sigurado akong alam mo na noong World War II ay, kahit paano, nagtulungan ang ilang mga angkang hacendero ng Gitnang Luzon at ang mga Hukbalahap, pati na ang mga Intsik, para lumaban sa Hapon. Siempre, meron din namang Pilipinong tumulong sa mananakop pero wag na nating ungkatin yan; naghahanap lang ako ng ehemplong mauunawaan mo.
Kumuha ka naman ng history subject sa Ateneo, eh, di siguro naman alam mo din na sari-saring tao at pamilya ang nagka-isa para lumaban sa Kastila. Yun na nga lang, di pa tapos ang laban, nagkawatak-watak na; nagpatayan pa nga, eh. At nang dumating ang mga Kano, hayun, nag-unahan para makalapit sa kusina ng bagong amo. Ganyan talaga ang buhay. May ibang nagsasabi, ganyan talaga ang Pinoy. Naku, sa totoo lang, hindi tayo nag-iisa. Ipapakita yan ng anumang history book.
Nalilihis na ako kaya balik tayo sa pangunahing dahilan nitong liham. Pero, teka, bago ako sumugod sa puntong yan, isa pang ehemplo: Ang mahal mong ina, si Tita Cory, ay kasama sa mga grupong nagpatalsik kay Erap, pero nagkasama naman sila sa tangkang ibagsak si Gloria Arroyo — na dati nyo ding ka-alyansa.
Mali naman si Kristie Kenney nang sinabi niyang bumaliktad si Tita Cory sa mga adhikain at values noong nakipag-alyansa kay Erap.
Una, siguradong wala sa usapan nila ang pagbalik ni Erap sa pwesto. Pangalawa, naniwala siguro si Tita Cory na mas mabigat ang kasalanan ni Gloria, dahil talaga naming niyurakan nito ang mga instrumento ng demokrasya para maluklok uli sa Malacanang at manatili sa poder. Yun nga lang, walang klarong planong post-Gloria, at nakaka-turnoff yung nakikitang pagmamani-obra ng iba’t-ibang grupo sa loob ng alyansang ‘yun, kaya di kumagat ang taumbayan. Saka, di pa yata nakalimutan ng masa na ang mga lider ng oposisyon laban kay GMA ay nagkibit-balikat ng dayain niya si Fernando Poe Jr. (Di ko alam kung talagang nanalo si FPJ; ang klaro, ay saksakan ang pandaraya at marami sa inyong mga pulitiko at mga nakakaangat sa buhay ay nagbulag-bulagan o kaya nagbasbas pa sa pandaraya, wag lamang manalo ang isa pang aktor. At wag na nating pag-usapan ang lahat ng mga pulitiko mula sa sari-saring partido na lumuhod sa mga Ampatuan para makadagdag sa kanilang boto.)
Same-same ang tingin ng marami at mukhang nadala na din ang madla sa kinalabasan ng dalawang People Power. Kaya pinili na lamang ng tao, lalo na ng kabataan — na isa sa pinakamahalagang hanay ng kahit anumang pag-alsa — na maghintay ng eleksyon para simulan ang pag-singil kay Gloria. Kaya heto ka ngayon, pilit na maituwid ang daan.
Sya, punta na tayo sa saligang usapin, yung patutsada mo sa League of Filipino Students (LFS) noong nag-salita ka sa Ateneo. Yung ihambing mo sila sa isang diktadurya; yung pagyabang mo sa pagtalikod sa imbitasyong sumapi para lumaban kay Marcos.
Nauunawaan ko kung ba’t di ka sumali sa LFS. Kasama ito sa malaking alyansang naniniwala sa pagsulong ng mga radikal na reporma. Kasama na dyan ang pagwasak sa sistema kung saan ang incestuous ties sa ekonomiya at pulitika ay nagdulot ng tuloy-tuloy na pagsentro ng kayamanan sa kamay ng iilang pamilya. Kasama na dyan ang panawagan ng genuine agrarian reform, na sa paniniwala ng ilang nagmamay-ari ng lupa ay senyales ng komunismo.
Marami namang ganyan ang pananaw noong dekada setenta. Pero sabi nga ni Ernie Baron, weather-weather lang. “Panapanahon”, ayon sa kanta ni Noel Cabangon (na nung kabataan ay kasali din naman sa mga aktibistang kinamumuhi-an mo).
Habang nakikita ang mga abuso at pang-aapi ng diktadurya, madami din ang nag-desisyon na di man magkaisa sa lahat ng paniniwala, may mga bagay na pwedeng pag-usapan, may mga puntong pwedeng mapag-kaisahan.
Alam mo, yang patutsada mo sa “executive committee” ay para na ring patutsada kina Ka Tanny (Sen. Lorenzo Tanada) at iba pang tulad niya na sumali sa Bayan (Bagong Alyansang Makabayan) — kung saan kasama din ang LFS.
Kasama naman sa elite sina Ka Tanny. Mula siya sa mga angkan na kung tawagin ng mga aktibista, ay panginoong maylupa. Hindi naman kasi static ang pag-iisip ng tao. Nahuhubog din ang paniniwala ayon sa karanasan at sa mga nakikita at naririnig sa paligid. Kaya nga si Edgar Jopson, na taga-Ateneo din at dati ding masama ang tingin sa mga “pulahan” ay sumapi sa underground nang nakitang sinasakal na ni Marcos ang demokrasya.
Siguro, kung maliit ang isang organisasyon ay pwedeng magpulong ang lahat tuwing may mahalagang bagay na kailangang matalakay, at saka mag one-person-one-vote. Pero kapag lumaki na ang hanay ng isang grupo, hindi na ito praktikal. Kahit pa magtalaga ng kongreso bawa’t taon, kailangan pa din ang isang executive committee na magpatakbo at magdesisyon sa araw-araw– ayon sa saligang pinagkaisahan ng organisasyon. Alam mo naman ito dahil may Liberal Party ka at nakaupo ka dati sa korporasyon ng pamilya at ng mga kaibigan ng pamilya.
Sa kaigtingan ng pakikibaka laban kay Marcos, ilang milyon ang myembro ng Bayan; ilang daang libo ang myembro ng LFS at iba pang grupong kabataan. Kasama po ako sa LFS nung nasa UP; alam kong may kongreso ito. Tulad ng malalaking partido, pumipili ang mga chapters ng delegado sa kongreso at sila ang bumoboto sa mga mahalagang usapin. Ang presumption ay napag-usapan ito sa ibaba.
Wala pang organisasyon sa mundo na tunay na nagkakaisa ang lahat ng myembro sa lahat ng punto. Hindi kailangang maging aktibista para malaman ito. Kadalasan, boto ang umiiral. Ang nakakarami ang nasusunod. Hindi ito usaping komunista. Isang saligang prinsipyo ito ng demokrasya na ang pinaka-klarong ehemplo ay ang eleksyon. Kapag nagpagkaisahan (o nanalo na sa boto) ang isang punto, natural lamang na ang mga myembro ay sumunod kung naniniwala sila sa adhikain ng kanilang organisasyon.
Hindi sa lahat ng bagay nasusunod ang gusto natin. May mga bagay na pwede nating malunok kahit na di tayo lubos na sang-ayon. Compromise ang tawag sa Ingles, the art of give and take kung baga.
May mga panahon din na talagang taliwas sa paniniwala natin ang desisyong napagkaisahan o binaba. Yung talagang babaliktad ang sikmura natin. Kapag nangyari yan, ganito lang ang proseso. Timbangin: May saysay ba ang sumunod? Kakayanin ko pa bang humarap sa salamin kapag nakiisa ako? Kapag ang sagot ay Hindi, umalis ka na. Natdem, socdem, goddem, sa pribadong sector man o sa gobyerno – pareho lang naman ang basehan ng indibidwal na pag-isip at galaw.
Heto, full disclosure: Nung tumakbo si Tita Cory laban kay Marcos, nasa Bayan na ako. Mainit na pinag-usapan ang isyu. Ako, para sa pagsali sa eleksyon. Naku, kung nandun ka lang sa mga debate. Sigawan. Iyakan. Murahan. Kalampagan ng mga mesa at silya; wala yang mga soap opera sa drama namin.
Alam mo natatawa ako ngayon, tawa na may halong lungkot, sa nakaraan. Ang ingay ko sa mga pag-uusap (oo, pati sa baba, kung saan ako nakahanay, tinalakay ang isyu). Nang nagdesisyong mag-Boycott, napatigil ako, nagtanong sa sarili. Kaya ko bang lunukin ito? Kapag tinimbang sa ibang bagay na mahalang aspeto ng pakikibaka, kailangan bang makiisa sa bagay na di ako sang-ayon?
Panapanahon… Nilunok ko ang oposisyon sa Boycott dahil marami pang puntong mas matimbang sa akin. Patuloy ang debate hanggang sa araw ng eleksyon. Umaasa pa ang marami na maaring magbago ang desisyon.
Ganito yun, Noy. Halos araw-araw nakikipagtalastas ako. Ang kulit ko, ang ingay, ang taray. Pero pagkatapos ng miting, hayun, isa ako sa nagsasalita sa radyo para sa Boycott, isa sa mga sumusulat ng polyeto. Hanggang ngayon, naniniwala akong mali ang desisyon na ‘yon pero habang nandun ako, batay na din sa pagtimbang ko, nirespeto ko ang proseso kaya tinanggap ang gawaing inatas.
Mahabang panahon din na kasama ng Bayan si Ka Tanny. Kahit pa naghiwalay sa usapang lumahok sa eleksyong kung saan pinilit na tumakbo si Tita Cory, walang masabing masama ang sinumang aktibista kay Ka Tanny. Lumuha kaming lahat nang sya’y pumanaw. Dahil noong kasapi siya ng Bayan ay talaga namang binuhos niya ang lahat ng lakas at talino para lumaban sa diktadurya.
Totoong may hapdi ang pagbiyak ng samahan; may galit pa nga. Pero, higit sa lahat, may respeto sa papel na ginampanan ng isa’t-isa sa pakikibaka. At may pagkilala na kung wala ang mga aktibista, kung wala ang Bayan at mga katulad nitong grupo, ni di natin narating ang puntong pwedeng labanan si Marcos sa eleksyon. Kasama na dito ang mga nasa underground, ang mga bumuhat ng armas laban kay Marcos. (At kasama din sa armado, kahit sa ibang grupo, ang ilan na malalapit sa pamilya ninyo.)
Dakila si Tita Cory sa pagharap nya sa diktador. At martyr ang iyong amang si Ninoy. Pero, Noy, di siya nag-iisa. Libo-libo ang nagbuwis ng buhay para lamang lumaya ang bayan. Mula sa hanay ng ligal na mga aktibista at sa hanay ng mga nag-underground at sumapi sa National Democratic Front.
Totoong madaming nasa underground ang nanggaling sa hanay ng LFS at ibang organisasyong sa ilalim ng Bayan. Pero, Noy, sila din naman kasi ang pinakamaraming nalagas na kasapi. Lumawak ang NDF ng dahil na din sa pagpatay sa mga ligal na aktibista; marami ang naniwala na kailangan din ang dahas para mapahina ang kamay na bakal ni Marcos.
At madami sa mga panawagan ng mga aktibistang ito ay naging bahagi ng reporma ng Ina mo. Hindi siguro sa lubos na pormang gusto ng mga aktibista. Pero sa iba’t-ibang paraan naipakita din ang kahalagahan na maharap ang mga panawagang ito.
Matagal na akong wala sa kilusang aktibista. Marami akong kritisismo, maraming puntong di na pinaniniwalaan. At naisusulat ko ang mga puntong ito. Sinasabi ko din ng personal sa mga kaibigang nanatiling tibak. Kadalasan, sumasakit din ang ulo ko sa nakikita o naririnig ko. Naiintindihan kita. Nakakapanting ng tenga talaga minsan. Sa ibang liham ko na lang tatalakayin ito; liham naman para sa tibak.
Heto lang masasabi ko, Noy. Maniwala ka man o hindi, isang malaking bahagi ng mga pananampalataya ko ang tagumpay mo bilang Pangulo nitong bansa. Dapat lang. Pilipino ako, nagiisa lang ang bansa ko. Ang tagumpay ng lider na nangakong maituwid ang daan ay tagumpay ng lahat.
Walang halong kaplastikan ito. Tanungin mo pa ang kaibigan kong si Yvette Lee. Isang Byernes, pagkatapos naming bumili ng mga libro sa Fully Booked sa Rockwell, nagkatuwaan kaming magpahula. Tarot cards. May ilang tanong pwedeng isangguni. Eh, hindi naman ako praning sa buhay kaya nawalan na ako ng maitanong.
Ito ang huli kong tanong: “Will the President and this country succeed? Maitutuwid ba ang daan?” Tapos, nagtabon pa ako ng kamay sa mukha, sabay sabi, “please, let it be yes!” Napangiti ang gwapo naming manghuhula. Napangiti din si Yvette, pero sigurado akong naunawaan nya kung bakit naitanong yon.
Kung nakita mo lang ang ngiti ko nang sinabi nyang, “Oo”. Kantyawan na lang ako nang mga ayaw sa iyo. Pero may mga anak ako, lola na nga ako; lahat naman na naging aktibista, isa lang ang panalangin: na sana di na kailanganin ng mga kabataan ang tumahak pa ng aming landas.
Kahit nga si Erap na di ko talaga binoto ay pinagdasal ko din ng tagumpay, alang-alang sa masang naniwala sa kanya. Kahit nga si GMA, pero di na kasali ang 2004, dahil naman winasak nya na ang respeto sa panahong yon.
Kung kailangan sagutin ang LFS sa ilang punto, eh di sagutin. Kung kailangan makipag-debate sa prinsipyo at polisiya, eh di sige, makipag-debate. Ganyan naman ang demokrasya. Pero wag mo naman yurakan ang nakaraan ng ating sambayanan at ipagbale-wala ang kontribusyon ng ilang grupo. Marami ding dating LFS na nasa gobyerno, hala ka.
Noy, lahat tayo nag-alay sa bayan: Iba-ibang porma, ayon sa kaya ng isip at damdamin, depende sa tawag ng panahon.
Kinikilala ko na may mabuting hangarin ka. Huwag mo sanang talikuran ang demokrasyang pinaglaban ng sambayanan. Wag mong kalimutan na madami pa ding repormang kailangan ang bansa. Hindi lang ang LFS ang may panawagan nyan; pati na mga tunay na supporter mo na lagi kong kausap, kinikilala yan.
Ang ingay ay ingay lamang. Wag mong waldasin ang oras at talino mo, at ang goodwill na natitira sa iyo, sa mga walang katuturang pagtutunggali. Di nga ba, the best revenge is success? 🙂
Best of luck at hanggang dito na lamang,
Inday
(Pusong tibak pa din pero hinahangad ang yong tagumpay)
Mark Bautista and Gian Magdangal star as Crisostomo Ibarra; Kris Villongco is Maria Clara
In its latest reincarnation at the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP), Noli Me Tangere, the musical, throbs with enough bathos for a dozen soap operas. That’s not to disparage Jose Rizal’s novel or Audie Gemora’s version of the Ryan Cayabyab musical.
This Noli actually waltzes to the cosmic rhythms of our times. The CCP still shakes from a storm pitting artists and their supporters against clergy and other guardians of morality. And on the Sunday I watched, Nandy Pacheco’s Kapatiran group marched with a procession of icons, ostensibly to exorcise the institution of heretics, unaware – or uncaring — that within the halls of the edifice Imelda Marcos built, young and old sat in thrall to diwatas and babaylans, vengeful lumpen and confused intellectuals, all battling the perversions of a church grown contemptuous of its humble, questing origins and its founder’s inclusive nature. (Agnes Locsin and Joey Ayala’s Enkantada was playing at the main theater.)
Soap opera also sums up the national politics: a people fixated on so many skeins that tie us into so many knots, that we lose track of what really matters.
A senator summons a man to explain his art, though it’s doubtful anything could get through someone who sees the ability to rattle off multi-syllabic words as proof of demonic possession. Forgotten in the sturm und drang: the institutionalization of torture among the trappings of power; children hemorrhaging, dying as mosquitoes attack communities rich and poor; the death toll rising from yet another violent convulsion in Mindanao politics; and the statistically improbable event of three main actors in a corruption probe simultaneously taking to their beds in some kind of psychic bonding. If that isn’t soap opera, I don’t know what is.
Agit-prop
Jose Rizal's "Noli Me Tangere"
Almost two decades ago, the Noli stormed into our lives with all the pent up rage of 20 years of flailing under tyranny. Nonon Padilla unleashed an orgy of symbolism, in keeping with what sustained this nation during the Marcos nightmare and other periods of censorship. It was Noli as agit-prop, reminding a people that had just defeated a dictator that muck still slurped at their feet.
There is little subtlety in Noli, the novel. Its greatness lies in the vision. Rizal drew archetypes with bold lines, the better to train light on the frailties and venalities that allowed vastly outnumbered colonizers to retain power for three centuries. There is little of the irony dotting, say, the works of Plaridel or the more Rabelaisian Graciano Lopez Jaena. Unlike these two other literary heroes, Rizal disdained sparring with folk who thought themselves his betters. His tales and letters are earnest despite numerous hints of a more voluptuary side.
Education was a favorite theme of Rizal. He insisted that a people strive to better themselves and be worthy sons and daughters of the motherland. In Noli, he channels this passion through Crisostomo Ibarra, like him a bright young man sent abroad to the heady realms of relatively-free academia. Both real-life and literary characters suffered abuse from those who viewed brown skin as a barrier to intellectual exploration and who, at any rate, saw this exploration as a nuisance or, worse, a sign of the end of times.
Padilla gave us a Noli that alternately marched, convulsed or swirled through plot and subplots. His Noli was a manifesto, a pamphlet underlining reasons for a revolution to come (or explanations for why we’d fallen flat on our faces after the verve and hope of one barely a decade old).
Padilla’s Noli looked at times like Edsa in February 1986. The stage bustled with a crowd that skipped and swayed and stomped, and trilled and sniffled and bawled, or tittered and chortled. Jeers and sneers erupted from both sides of the political divide. Costumes and props were brandished, in step with times that saw brave souls waving banners or guns, or whatever symbol could rouse and mobilize and generally substitute for the introspection we continue to postpone.
It was a robust Noli in a period when people believed – or wanted to – in slogans about tiger nations and the promised miracle of Philippines 2000. We all know what happened at the turn of the millennium and after. That era, after all, continues to star in the national soap opera.
Wary, weary
In the musical’s first run (1994), John Arcilla was a fiery Ibarra. He stalked and strutted until he ran smack into the walls of power. Gemora was the solemn, confused youth.
Cover of a Noli translation by Virgilio Almario
Though Gemora says he needed to change tack to survive cruel comparisons to Padilla, he constructed a musical landscape more fitting to the times and lives of a generation that views “People Power” through jaundiced eyes.
It is not that today’s youth don’t care. They’re just trying to find their way through the morass laid down by two older generations. There are no great themes to current music. Energies and creativity are channeled inward or to a close circle of intimates. Their favored mode of protest is intensely personal – the vote.
In Gemora’s Noli, the stage is stark, gray. Steps lead up to a pyramid’s rough base, underscoring the many sacrifices laid down on the altar of cross and sword. The scenery cradles Gemora’s vision and trains ours to focus solely on the actors. Gemora’s palette is dour and drab or the pastel shades of a lady taught to stay out of the light.
The pared-down scenery ups the challenge for the young leads, whose love story and unraveling secrets are the pulsing heart of this Noli. And this is where the musical almost fumbles.
(I am going to come clean and admit a love affair with the original musical, having sat through a series of casts, which included three sisters. Bernardo Bernardo radiated menace as Padre Damaso, complete with a Spanish accent (that sounded suspiciously like that of the Irish priests in Malate Church). Bodjie Pascua and Noni Buencamino presented two Father Salvis: the former tortured by illicit passions, the latter reveling in the thrill, and both equally believable. Joji Isla brought the house down as Don Tiburcio, the social-climbing quack doctor. Josephine Roces’ Maria Clara was note perfect and imbued with the dignity of a sheltered lass taught the merits of the velvet glove. Though sister Nenen, who definitely knows her music and theater, swears that songbird Regine Velasquez emerged as the definitive Maria Clara after listening to her mother’s advice to leave behind the affectations of Sunday noontime shows.)
From left, Al Gatmaitan as Padre Salvi; Mark Bautista as Crisostomo Ibarra; Bodjie Pascua as Padre Damaso
I missed Gian Magdangal as Ibarra; that weekend had Mark Bautista essaying the role of Noli’s hero. Nor was Gary Lim, tried and tested as theater comedian, around to play Tiburcio.
Gemora asked Rody Vera to add dialogue for greater context. Vera is a talented dramaturg, but there’s little need to add context to the Noli; the effort just weighed down the musical. And unfortunately, while Bautista convinces as a besotted young man, he labors when the music turns to dialogue, a weakness all the more marked because Noli’s secondary leads are some of the country’s best theater actors.
It is jarring to hear lines by Bautista followed by those from Red Nuestro, whose fine baritone and nuanced reading of Kapitan Tiago gives the cuckolded widower a gravitas that former counterparts couldn’t quite muster. Where the audience would have guffawed as the Kapitan boasts of his offspring, Nuestro elicits sympathy.
Bautista is fine with love and grief and the insouciance of a balikbayan who thinks himself the better, no, the savior, of those left behind. What he’s not capable of is confusion, a more subtle reaction and one needed to propel Ibarra through the plot.
The first two acts of the Noli drag because the lead’s inexperience cancels out any impact from the added dialogue. The chorus is also ragged in parts, particularly in the picnic scene, where Padre Salvi’s pivotal moment — the discovery of Padre Damaso’s secret — loses power in the lower right end of the stage.
And that schoolyard scene… Nenen swears it’s the original arrangement, so maybe it was the sudden swing in choreography that turned the episode into an inane noontime chorus, reminiscent of pito-pito romps. (Though given how politicians and TV personalities can make monkeys of the beneficiaries of their largesse, it might not be too off the mark.) And why does everyone turn back from the audience? Sure, a lot of action happens on the upper reaches of the stage but at certain moments the blocking just defies logic .
The power of weakness
Kris Villongco, with Gian Magdangal
Kris Villongco’s acting talent shines clear through the entire musical, though her uneven vocals distract during the first two acts. Armida Siguon Reyna’s grand-daughter shares the veteran actress’ brassy undertones. Her soprano betrays grating shifts in quality as she goes through the musical range. This weakness, however, eventually works to Villongco’s advantage as the musical progresses and she learns of her mother’s shame. The audience then absorbs why musical theater stars need to be actors first before singers.The strained vocals make for authentic grief and Villongo’s talent for well-timed stillness and quiet moments shines as she, initially bewildered and then devastated, is taunted by Padre Salvi.
Angeli Bayani, Villongco’s understudy, plays Sisa, in all versions a symbol of a motherland trampled by oppressors. She shows off a sweet, lyrical soprano but lacks the intensity of other Sisa’s. She is more plaintive than anguished; you’d think she’s lost dolls instead of sons.
Jerald Napoles is missing the seething rage of former Eliases. He is not noble. Napoles slouches around, Elias as lumpen. His voice starts outweak but that seems apt for an Elias who tosses around dialogue like the drawling kanto boys eventually seconded into partisan units of the New People’s Army.
Al Gatmaitan as Padre Salvi elevates what could otherwise be a stereotype of the clerical lecher into a creature worthy of Machiavelli. In Gemora’s Noli, it is Salvi rather than Damaso who illustrates sex as power trip. Gatmaitan’s Salvi is almost gentle; that just ups his sinister mien. In his hands, Maria Clara is not just an object of lust; she becomes a tool to wreak havoc on enemies of church and state.
Bodjie Pascua also saves Damaso from being an unalloyed symbol of evil. He is not the devil incarnate, though Pascua wisely abstains from playing Damaso as just another worried father. His Damaso views offspring as property, not much different from lay fathers of that time, though he buckles under the weight of genuine love for Maria Clara.
Pascua and Nuestro display fine timing, whether in drama or comedy. The Kapitan’s star turn is brilliant; icons jerk like puppets, displaying a modern sensibility and serving to clear the scene of distractions.
TP promotional photo.
Pascua does not bludgeon. He turns disdain into high art, as when he sniffs, “lahi-an man ng Kastila lalabas pa ding mahina,” perhaps the finest ironic line in national artist Bien Lumbera’s libretto. This represents the start of one of the musical’s highlights. Except that someone forgot to teach Bautista movement. Damaso’s line drives Ibarra into fury so great that it forces his second exile. Yet in this pivotal scene, with Pascua struggling mightily, Bautista saunters like he were at a park. It’s almost unforgivable.
Cycles of defeat
My young women companions (Che and Chen and Rachel) insist Bautista is the more affecting Ibarra and not just because of his handsome mug. This is perhaps due to Gemora’s focus on the tale of spurned love, which plays right into Bautista’s strength.
Like Villongco, his failings as performer ultimately imbue genuine tragedy to Ibarra’s fate, that of a clueless youth overreaching and then getting slapped around like a fly. He is naïve to the end, Ibarra is, and in the raft scene, Bautista and Napoles give a stirring duet: Elias, now thoroughly believable as rebel organizer; Ibarra, still clinging to his intellectual dreams.
It is perfect counterpoint to Salvi, now deadly and saturnine, the complete cynic spitting, “Mahusay maghakot sa yagit na Bayani,” a line, sadly, still true in our time.
Grief gifts Maria Clara with maturity. Villongco soars as she chastises the magnanimous Ibarra: “Ang gusto ko’y pakinggan ako at patawarin dahil nauunawaan.”
At this point, everything climbs in drama and level of performance. You fear that Bautista’s voice could crack unless he finds a way to channel weeping into dramatic restraint. But he is superb in his final scene, which sets the tone for the anarchic rage of El Filibusterismo. It is such a powerful ending that Ibarra’s appearance in the finale, as Maria Clara dons the habit of a nun, is redundant. The spotlight should be turning on the young Basilio.
Still, you do not find the heart to demur further. With enough discipline and work ethic (rehearsals, rehearsals, rehearsals!), Bautista, among the best singers of his generation, can fill in the vacuum in musical leads. You hear sniffles all around, as much a tribute to this Ibarra’s ability to draw empathy as to Ryan Cayabyab’s composing genius.
I wanted to weep, too. Because if there is anything Noli rams home, it is the painful truth that we glory too much in sorrow and defeat and love to revisit our pains and hurts. There is a Noli for everyone. Gemora might just have given today’s youth their voice. Our generation may call the youth apathetic. I am glad they are not history’s prisoners. I am glad they refuse to regurgitate our struggles. This, after all, as Frantz Franon says, is the cycle their own freedom. And they sure don’t need to die for it. And they won’t, if they show more perseverance and persistence than their elders did.
Graphics from ATENEO DE MANILA LOYOLA SCHOOLS SANGGUNIAN (thanks for sharing Jen Aquino)
MOMENT OF ILLOGIC
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