Manila Memoirs 5

Luneta: The mother of all Rizal Parks

writing Mi Ultimo Adios, in Spanish

the firing squad, mga kapwa Filipino



falling for you, Filipinas

in Jose Rizal's own words

I was going to write about our trip to the Rizal Shrine in Dapitan but while doing some research on why Rizal was exiled to Dapitan, I found this on the Jose Rizal University website instead.

Here, Jose Rizal describes his life during his exile in Dapitan.

____________________

Peaceful Life in Dapitan

During the early part of his exile in Dapitan, Rizal lived at the commandant’s residence. With his prize from the Manila Lottery and his earnings as a farmer and a merchant, he bought a piece of land near the shore of Talisay near Dapitan. On this land, he built three houses- all made of bamboo, wood, and nipa. The first house which was square in shape was his home. The second house was the living quarters of his pupils. And the third house was the barn where he kept his chickens. The second house had eight sides, while the third had six sides. In a latter to his friend, Ferdinand Blumentritt, on December 19, 1893, Rizal described his peaceful life in Dapitan. "I shall tell you how we lived here. I have three houses-one square, another hexagonal, and the third octagonal. All these houses are made of bamboo, wood, and nipa. I live in the square house, together with my mother, my sister, Trinidad, and my nephew. In the octagonal house live some young boys who are my pupils. The hexagonal house is my barn where I keep my chickens." "From my house, I hear the murmur of a clear brook which comes from the high rocks. I see the seashore where I keep two boats, which are called barotos here." "I have many fruit trees, such as mangoes, lanzones, guayabanos, baluno, nangka, etc. I have rabbits, dogs, cats, and other animals." "I rise early in the morning-at five-visit my plants, feed the chickens, awaken my people, and prepare our breakfast. At half-past seven, we eat our breakfast, which consists of tea, bread, cheese, sweets, and other things." "After breakfast, I treat the poor patients who come to my house. Then I dress and go to Dapitan in my baroto. I am busy the whole morning, attending to my patients in town." "At noon, I return home to Talisay for lunch. Then, from 2:00 to 4:00 p.m., I am busy as a teacher. I teach the young boys." "I spend the rest of the afternoon in farming. My pupils help me in watering the plants, pruning the fruits, and planting many kinds of trees. We stop at 6:00 p.m. for the Angelus." "I spend the night reading and writing."

Marvin Flores

It is my pleasure and privilege to have been classmates with Marvin in Lit 22 under Sir Sawi Aquino a couple of years ago, together with a bunch of other BS Physics majors who were taking up World Literature as part of their wholistic curriculum that aimed at producing scientists with a cultural edge. I remember Marvin as a non-nerdy looking guy who was quick to smile and always ready to help. When I needed an extra character to play the role of King Aegeus in my skit about Theseus and Aethra, Marvin was the obvious pick as he learned his lines in a blink and his lighthearted nature made everything seem easy.

I did not know then that he was a genius as those physics guys were mostly quiet in literature class as it was the Psych and English majors who did most of the talking. It was only after Sunday's graduation that I learned about Marvin's awe-inspiring story of overcoming financial hardship all these years. I am going to be culling snippets from the original article by Kuya Moe Atega for posting here later but in the meantime, here's the link to Marvin's story. (The story is in Facebook, I'm still waiting for Kuya Moe to upload it somewhere more public because I believe Marvin's story should be read by everyone.)

According to SU News, Marvin, who was a scholar of the Department of Science and Technology, intends to pursue a research on the anthrophomorphic principle and the constancy of the speed of light.

Must Not Miss!

Luce Auditorium events this March:

Prodigy: Kristine Clair Uchi Galano in a Violin Concert

March 6, 2009, Friday, 8 pm

Kristine Galano photo by SoulJah

This blurb is from a press release issued by the Philippine Embassy in Brunei Darussalam:


"Seven-year old Filipino child prodigy Kristine Clair Uchi Galano drew rave reviews after delivering a flawless performance at the Sheraton Utama Hotel in Bandar Seri Begawan, Brunei Darussalam last 19 October 2008. Performing in her fourth solo recital, the young violinist played an array of Malay, Korean, modern and contemporary pieces to the delight of her audience that included members of the diplomatic corps and the expatriate community." read more...

The Philippine Madrigal Singers in Concert

March 9, 2009, Monday, 8 pm

The Madz with choirmaster Mark Anthony Carpio

The Philippine Madrigal Singers (the MADZ) is the only choir in the world that has won the Grand Championship TWICE from the prestigious European Grand Prix for Choral Singing. The latest competition was held in Arezzo, Italy in August 2007. Composed mostly of students, faculty and alumni from the University of the Philippines, the Madz was founded in 1963 by National Artist for Music, Professor Andrea O. Veneracion.

We, the residents and transients of Dumaguete and Negros Oriental, are so privileged to have this child prodigy and this awesome choir come to our city to perform at the Luce Auditorium. It would be a shame and a waste not to watch these concerts. Tickets range from 200 to 500 pesos.

See you there before 8 pm! March 6 (Friday) and March 9 (Monday).

the promdi went to the city

Or, Maria went to Asia.

Mall of Asia, that is.

Almost everybody I know who has been to Manila has been to the Mall of Asia (MOA), the biggest mall in the Philippines and the 6th biggest in the world. Thus when my plane landed at NAIA 3 last week, that was my immediate destination. “Sa MOA po tayo,” I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic, to the cabbie of the yellow taxi.

By the way, there are two kinds of taxis approved and regulated by the Ninoy Aquino International Airport authorities: the white coupon taxis, where before you start the trip you pay a fixed amount for a particular destination, and the yellow taxicabs which are metered. Noticeable were the lines that formed before the taxi stands of these two services. The coupon taxis had only a short line of foreign-looking customers while the local-looking folks patiently queued at the metered-taxi stand. The reason, of course, was very simple. A coupon taxi trip to the MOA costs 350 pesos. By metered taxi, I paid only 170 pesos with tip included, and this was at the evening rush hour traffic.

As we approached the MOA it became obvious that I would not be able to tour the entire place that night. The MOA is like four huge buildings in a row. Mini-mini-mayni-mo, where-to-where-to-now-to-go? To the Hypermart, cabbie suggested, where they have a courtesy booth for traveling bags.

I’ve an ambivalent attitude about malls. Generally, I would say that malling is not my idea of fun. But let me loose in one and I could stay there the whole day. My first impression of MOA was, “Why, I could like this place!”

But before I could get distracted with all the glittering display, I proceeded to inquire, in carefully-enunciated but clearly Visayan-accented Tagalog, where I could find The One Thing that I was looking for. I was so excited I was actually grinning as I navigated the wide mall corridors. Yes, wide enough to have motorized multi-seater carts or trams that you can actually ride around the mall when you’re too tired to walk already.

The MOA was so huge and so full of shops that I was sure to find The One Thing that I wanted. But soon, shop after shop turned out to be a disappointment. They did not have the model that I wanted. Next shipment would be in February yet, one salesclerk said. They offered me other models but somehow my mind and heart had already been set on That One Model and no other substitute would suffice.

Then after some more walking I finally found a shop with the exact model that I wanted! Hurray! But they wouldn’t accept a credit card payment nor would they give a discount for cash payment. And they were so cold, so mechanical, in relating to their customers. Was it just them or was that the Manila way?

Suddenly the MOA did not seem like a fun place anymore. I went around and around looking for rechargeable batteries instead and had to walk a long way to find the shop with the brand of batteries that I wanted. My disenchantment with the place was growing by the minute. I was longing for Dumaguete, where you could go to one place and everything is there already. Or the next place is just nearby and not a long walk away.

This outing was turning out to be a let down from my high expectations and I needed an energy booster quickly. To National Bookstore I went to get a copy of A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini, the author of the incredible book I just finished, The Kite Runner. Holding the new book in hand, I instantly felt better. If all else fails, this book will still be a winner.

It was almost ten pm, very near mall closing time and way past dinner time. The array of restaurants was dizzying but I found none appealing. I went around some more looking for ATM machines, asking the salesgirls and the security guards for directions in my labored Tagalog. Then after checking the ATM machines, to make sure I remembered the PIN numbers correctly as I don’t often use the ATM machines in Dumaguete, I went looking for the courtesy booth where my bag was. It was one big “looking for” journey at the MOA as I was unfamiliar with the place.

Near the exit doors I saw this shop called “Picture City” and saw The One Thing on their display window. So I went in and inquired and this very nice salesperson got The One Thing and gave me an instant, detailed lesson on how to use it. Of all the shops that I went to that night, this was the only place where somebody actually took time to explain how the model works. I was totally impressed. He treated me like I was a legitimate customer and not just someone sent out to canvass prices. I decided then and there, based on this salesman's extra effort, to get The One Thing from this store.

Now for the price. All the stores had the same Suggested Retail Price (SRP). The difference was that you can actually ask for a discount. I didn’t know haggling was possible in malls but it turns out that it is. And so I asked if they could give me a discount for cash payment and he said there’s an outright 3% discount for cash payment and, knowing the lowest price from the other stores, I said oh, give me more. He texted his boss to inquire and while waiting for the reply he continued to give me lessons on the many intricacies of The One Thing’s capabilities.

His other companions also chimed in, curious perhaps that someone my age would be interested in learning how to use The One Thing. I told them I was very pleased with their customer attention and service and this encouraged them and soon we had a merry time interviewing each other and testing out The One Thing. Soon, their boss texted, it’s a five percent discount. Done deal.

I’m very glad that my MOA excursion turned out with a happy ending. Here is a picture of the very helpful Picture City staff, Dempsy Fornal (the salesperson par excellance), Gemma Gallos, Lou Tonqo and Wilmore Oliquinio, taken, of course, by The One Thing, my very first Canon DSLR. Whoohoo!

Dempsy, Gemma, Lou, Wilmore

napalm girl

I had began to write about my vacation adventures

but am deferring my travelogue for this jarring image, that I encountered today.

This is the 1972 picture of Kim Phuc, the nine year old girl running naked, scared and burned on the streets after allied South Vietnamese planes had mistakenly dropped napalm bombs on her village. South Vietnamese photographer Nick Ut won the Pulitzer prize for this photograph that changed the world's perception war and its effects on innocent children.

Kim Phuc and son , more than two decades after the war

Hers is an amazing story of unspeakable tragedy and the triumph of the human spirit. After 14 months of hospitalization, 17 surgeries and countless hours of rehabilitation, her body was horribly scarred, her heart bitter, and her spirit crushed. And angry. Her damaged nerves continually sent intense pain signals to her consciousness and everywaking hour was torture.

So how did Kim Phuc become the peaceful and happy person she is today? In a word: forgiveness. In more words, check this out. For the complete works, buy the book.

And here are the lyrics of a song Eric Geurts wrote for Kim.

The Girl in the Picture

She's only a child

a running, naked child

so vulnerable

she's only 'bout 9

thin and so fine

so destructible


she's all scarified

her arms swung out wide

to relieve the pain


she lives in Trang Bang

where fire falls from the skies

down Highway 1

there's a girl that screams and cries

and she's running

always running


they call her the Napalm Girl

but she never gives in

trying to get some peace in this world


saved by the click of a camera

she is the girl in the picture


there's fire all around her

and fire inside

"It's too hot, too hot"

she rips off her clothes

but the heat only grows


it's living under her skin

she's frozen in time

'cause she still burns your mind

when you look at her

she lives in Trang Bang

where fire grows on the trees

Down Highway 1


there's a little girl pleading

for peace and she's running

always running

this little Napalm Girl

always willing to forgive

trying to get some peace in this world

she's so strong she can burn your mind

she is the girl in the picture


she lives in Trang Bang

where fire rains from the skies

but she never gives in

trying to get some peace in this world

and she's running

always running


they call her the Napalm Girl

always willing to forgive

trying to get some peace in this worldalways

understandingthis little child of war


she is the girl in the picture.

Jed Madela was here

Yes, he was. He had a concert at the NegOr Convention Center last Monday, December 15. And now everybody (who saw the concert) is raving about him, a young man with talent to the superlative level.

How super? Check out Wikipedia's entry on him:

In 2005, he bested over 3,000 contestants from 52 countries to win the grand prize in the World Championships of Performing Arts.

There were six categories whereby Jed won the golds. For the pop category, he sang “I’m Your Angel.” For the original song category, meaning a composition from the singer’s home country, he did Martin Nievera’s old hit, “Be My Lady.” For Broadway (“Home”), pop duet (with Risa Navales, they sang “Last Night of the World”), gospel (“Take Me Out of the Dark”), and for the final song that made him grand champion, it’s Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Wanna Miss A Thing.”

He also brought home two Champion of the World plaques, one star trophy for the award Grand Champion of the World in the singing division and a huge diamond trophy for the most coveted Grand Champion Performer of the World.

Still not convinced? Check out the youtube videos of his concerts. This guy has been all over the world and in a recent trip to Europe he was given a standing ovation by thousands of Filipinos and Europeans alike.

In Edu Manzano's words:

"And then meron pa kaming ginawa, kinuha po namin yong rights, binayaran po namin yong rights, kasi hindi pwedeng ipirata yong kantang yan, kinanta uli po ni Jed Madela doon sa gathering namin with the Filipino community, 25,000 Filipinos po, andun yong mga Mayor ng Rome, mga Conciliary, mga Deputy Mayors, kung sino sino pong mga Italyano, mga security namin puro Italyano. Anyway, dahil nung nabayaran na, pinahirit ko ulit kay Jed Madela. Mga kaibigan 25,000 Filipinos ang nag standing ovation, kasama din po yong mga Italyano para lang sa isang Pilipino."

Jed Madela was here. Yes, he was. And where was I? Not at the concert! For the simple reason that I did not know what an incredible artist this Jed Madela is. I thought he was another of those matinee idols who look good but can't carry a tune, and we've had a lot of these coming here at this time of year in the past. And also because the venue was at the Convention Center instead of at the Luce Auditorium, where I believe all real talents should perform instead of anywhere else here, mainly because of the acoustics and the seats that are really comfortable for the audience.

I did not like my last concert experience at the Convention Center (Bossa Nova featuring Sitti in February 2008) because the people were walking, buying food from the stalls on the side, eating and talking while the concert was going on. So many distractions. And the floor is flat so if you're seated at the back, it's quite difficult for you to see the stage. Unlike at the Luce, which is an auditorium where the seats are gradually elevated towards the back, no matter where you sit you still get an unobstructed view of the stage, although the people are smaller the farther away you are.

As for Jed Madela, the next time he comes to town, I'll be sure to watch his show (hopefully it will be at the Luce). As for you, in case he has a concert near your place in the future, I strongly suggest you get a ticket and see that Filipinos are not only good in boxing (and copying) but in singing, too. But you already knew that, of course.

conversations with o captain, my captain

Normally, I refrain from writing about the personal lives of my patients. It's just not done. I take exception to this dictum now because this patient has, for me, an extraordinary life, the kind that I'm not sure if I will have the privilege of encountering ever again. I want to capture here snippets of our conversation, that I may not forget them.

You see, he is a sailor to the core, literally the captain of his ship, and he has traveled all over the world in all kinds of boats and weathers. I asked him, "What kind of boat were you a captain of, before you retired and became a captain of this your own boat?" He said, "Oh, it doesn't matter what kind of boat. There are boats and there are boats. The important thing is that you are at sea."

Being a sea person is nothing unusual in the Philippines. Since our country is an archipelago, traveling and trading by sea is the norm. I believe every Filipino family has members that are either fishermen or seamen, meaning merchant marines. We have plenty of both in my own huge brood of relatives.

But this patient of mine, let's call him S.C. for Sea Captain, is no ordinary sea-man or fisherman. He had been at sea for almost all his life (started sailing at nine years of age) because, I could sense, it is his calling, it is his passion, it is his home. I said to him, your every day must be like an adventure, living in a boat sailing across the Pacific and the Atlantic... He said he doesn't look at it as an adventure. It is just his life.

Listening to him, I could see he was a poet and a philosopher. For how could one not be, living under the mercy of the elements for weeks or months with no land in sight but 360 degrees of water and wind and sky? I said, "What do you do out in the ocean, when you're not sailoring or battling storms or fishing or doing stuff that sea captains do?" He said, and this with exaggerated enunciation and animated facial expression, as I listened intently and focused on his lips which were concealed by an overgrowth of white beard, "I theeenk about Anything that I want to." I asked him if all sea captains had white hair and bushy white beards like just like him. And he humored me by saying yup.

Sometimes it was hard to understand his words, he had an accent and most importantly, his lush white beard covered his mouth so I couldn't read his lips. Plus he talked in idioms and metaphors so that several times I had to ask what did he mean by what he said. And he patiently unravelsed his simplistic philosophy of life and living to which I could not help but nod. It was so refreshing to meet someone who was not into the rat pace of the human race.

After a while he became a little bit sleepy as he just had a shot of pain reliever from the nurse. I let him rest and turned my attention to his wife, the boat's navigator, cook, laundry woman and Girl Friday. She could raise a mast and all the other things that sailors do as they were only three persons in their boat: S.C., his wife and their young adult grandson. I asked how come their grandson was of a different color from them. And she said, "Oh, he is our godson, our hanai son. And he is a wiz with computers. He taught us that these modern cameras can take videos and even record voice!"

Oh, hanai ! I know that term. They had lived for thirty or so years in Honolulu but decided to anchor their boat elsewhere as the cost of living in Hawaii had become ridiculously outrageous. She remembered the awesome sunsets of Hawaii with nostalgia and she whipped open her computer to show me her Picasa album of sunsets and sea. She raved about this one particular sunset where everything was red everywhere, it was like being surrounded by a sea and sky of fire.

S.C. was drifting off to sleep but still listening in. I looked at him and saw Poseidon's own hanai son, used to standing at many a ship's deck, now confined to staring at a stark hospital wall. He knew his diagnosis and he knew his treatment options. He had several battles, age does catch up with us all. He choose to fight the fightable ones. The unfightable ones, he let be. Like one used to the batterings of the sun and sea, he accepted what the tides have brought this time. I can only imagine how difficult it must be for a man used to wide open spaces to be suddenly chained by all sorts of tubings coming and going out of body orifices. I bid them goodbye and he nodded, I assumed to dream his seascape bliss.

how to study for the board exams

Well, here's one tip: a Formula Wall, where all the equations and must-know facts are written.

Courtesy of Kira Katrina Ma, the newest, prettiest, sweetest,

REGISTERED ELECTRICAL ENGINEER in the Philippines!!!

Congratulations, Ate KringKring! We are so proud of you!

And by the way, Silliman University has been ranked among the top performing schools nationwide for doing well in the September 2008 licensure exam for electrical engineers.

jude, kring2x, ernie

6 x 5 x 6 or the number of years it took them to finish college

way to go, paolo!

Congratulations to

GIANPAOLO LEPITEN CABANAG

for placing Number 3

in the

2008 National Board Exam

for Medical Technologists!!!

Paolo is the son of Oliver and Perla Christina Cabanag and the nephew of my friend, Erlyn.

There is genius in their genes!

vivir para contarla

Who could this cute little baby be? And what stories would he be telling when he grows up? Yes, this is a he, though the outfit looks like it was meant for a girl.

Here's the baby, all grown up and now world-reknowned for the tales he's told, both fictional and not. Gabriel Garcia Marquez is his name.

I don't know much about him yet but I intend to get to know him well enough. Aside from his being very talented, the snipets I read about his life are quite intriguing.

Look at this, this is what he said about education:

"If I had nothing to do and to avoid getting bored I'd hole up at the school library, where they had the Aldeana collection. I read the whole thing! ... From volume one to the last! I read El carnero, memoirs, reminiscences ... I read it all! Of course, when I reached my last year in secondary school, I knew more than the teacher did. "

A regular nerd, sounds like. I found this amusing because as a teacher, every now and then I would encounter students who, I can sense, are brilliant. And students like these make me go, gosh, I have to study, I have to study or else I won't be able to answer his/her questions.

Here's another thing I like about Marquez:

The title of a novel he wrote: Love in the Time of Cholera. Very interesting title. Cholera is not a very romantic illness, in fact it is quite morbid can be tragic. And on a local note, there's been a cholera outbreak in one of the northern towns here in Negros these past few weeks. I am thinking along medical lines here but criticisms about that novel say that the cholera there did not necessarily refer to the medical illness but rather to social ills.

Speaking of medical illnesses, in 1999 Marquez was diagnosed to have cancer of the lymphatics and this sort of jolted him. My golly, he must have said. I have so many words and stories in me yet that need to be told before I bite the dust. And so he...

"...reduced relations with my friends to a minimum, disconnected the telephone, canceled the trips and all sorts of current and future plans", he told, the Colombian newspaper, "...and locked myself in to write every day without interruption."

Wow. Three years later, this is the product of that hermitic life, Living to Tell the Tale (Vivir Para Contarla), the first volume in a trilogy of memoirs.

AND this 81 year old author is finishing a new novel, yet untitled, scheduled to be released by yearend.

pila sa bigas

by National Artist for visual arts - Vicente Manansala

to the 2008 writing fellows

the writing workshop

Best hear about it straight from the workshop fellows themselves:

Noelle Leslie

Jordan


And I've been saying and saying that Lambert is my favorite fellow. Well, it seems that he's also a favorite of the other fellows and panelists as well. When he speaks, other fellows take photos and videos of him. And one panelist said to another, "O, i-hire mo na si Lambert" to which Lambert said, "'Di pa ako graduate."

We all look forward to hearing Lambert's commentaries which are deep and incisive. His being well read and having an impeccable command of language are already givens. His 'what do i know, i'm just an overstaying student' attitude is endearing which is quite unlike other intellectuals who turn other people away with their kayabangan.

Here's a poem by Lambert. This poem has been lauded for strengths and lambasted for flaws. You be the judge.


A Short Shonagun

I want to have a pond where
it would be wonderful to swim
or at least dump giant boulders in.

I want to have a house that doesn't have walls
everything would be windows
and the breeze and the sun would say wake up it's morning
and the chill and the moon would say it's time to lie down and sleep.
then I would fold away the roof
and as this house is in the province
the stars would all be present and
in their proper places and
the rest of the sky would be black
but here the stars have meaning and you
would want their ancient lights.
and also since it has forty four floors
I'd be so high up I can see the sky curve down
in all directions and I would be reassured that
the world is round and I could reach
you if I traveled or you'd eventually come
if I waited long enough.



There was another poem in the workshop, written by Leslie, that was so evocative it actually made me cry. But I'm not printing that here. Here's another poem by Leslie that I liked very much.


The House of Logic

Impressive, how you stacked the bricks so neatly,
The main columns ponderous and confident
And on your roof, not a shingle out of place.
I can scarcely imagine the inner intricacy
What doors would open to which chambers
Or how to navigate the secret hallways.
You spent a lifetime building this mansion,
Plotting the hidden cellars and trapdoors
And a panic room in case of an invasion.

But the door was open, and I entered
Was almost lost in the labyrinth of corridors
Feeling my way through the intractable darkness,
Believing I was alone in the fortress—
Till I wandered into the farthest wing
And found you huddled in a corner, shivering.

bravo mama, bravo golf

National Artist for Literature, Dr. Edith Tiempo, gave a special lecture on poetry last Friday for the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop. At 89, she is still very sharp and able to project her voice to a roomful of people without using a microphone. Mommy Edith gave us a sample of a lighthearted and playful poem from her latest anthology which she completed last month.

"... reverberation...indigenous wit... erudite terms ... startling idea..."

The venue for that special lecture was the Bravo Golf Hotel (formerly the Bravo Golf and Country Club) in Sibulan. The hotel, restaurant and golf course are already fully operational but the grounds immediately around the hotel are still being developed. This is much like the work of the fellows, still "under constant construction, tweaking and revision."

This is one of the three swimming pools being built at the Bravo Golf Hotel in Sibulan.

Pool reflecting sky

Mommy Edith and my fave fellow, Lambert

________________

Belated Happy Birthday to my fellow sit-inner, RV! See here what a blast he had on his birthday.

reading of humorous passages

We had an extraordinary evening today. The Dumaguete National Writers Workshop had a reading session of humorous passages at SU President Ben Malayang's White House.

First, my literature classmate, Bron, and I fetched Ma'am Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas from her Mom Edith's Montemar residence in Sibulan, a house on a hill overlooking the Tanon Straight. Awesome! Both the view and our guest, Iowa based writer, Ma'am Rowena. I drove very slowly from Sibulan to Silliman so that we could savor having Ma'am Rowena exclusively to ourselves.

When we got to the SU White House, the passage reading was underway. Here's the line-up of hilarious poems read with panache by the writing fellows and the panelists as well.

"Pushing sixty and hanging on" by Jaime An Lim

"Umbrella" by Rihanna

"Bowl Limn Yeah" by Paolo Manalo

"The reader in love" by Cesar Ruiz Aquino

"Poem" by Simon Armitage

"Usa ka gabiing wa'y sud-an ug wa'y bituon" ("A night with no viand and no stars") by Adonis Durado **

"I'm glad I'm a man/ I'm glad I'm a woman" by Anonymous **

"Balaki ko, Day, samtang gasakay tag habal-habal" ("Recite me a poem, dear, while we ride this motorbike") by Adonis Durado

"Response: Bb. Pilipinas" by Janina San Miguel

"Sana" by Masculados

"Anatomy of a kiss" by Larry Henares

(** crowd favorites)

Panelists Cesar Aquino, Butch Dalisay and Rowena Torrevillas read their own poems, too.

Notice that the evening's event was carefully not called "reading of humorous poetry" because some of the pieces read would most probably not pass as poetry. All the pieces were hilarious, nonetheless, and a fun filled evening was had by all.

________________________

Here are the fellows to the 47th Dumaguete National Writers Workshop currently being held for three weeks this May in Silliman:

POETRY:

Lawrence Anthony Rivera Bernabe (UP Visayas)
Noelle Leslie G. dela Cruz (Philosophy Assoc. Professor, De La Salle University)
Ma. Celeste T. Fusilero (Ateneo de Davao)
Rodrigo Dela Peña (London PR Consultancy Creative Assoc., Dumaguete)
Arelene Jaguit Yandug (English Asst. Professor, Xavier)
Bron Joseph C. Teves (Silliman)

FICTION:

Marguerite Alcarazen de Leon (Ateneo de Manila)
Dustin Edward Celestino (UP Dilliman)
Joshua L. Lim So (De La Salle)
Liza Baccay (Speech Pathologist; contributor Cebu Daily News)
Fred Jordan Mikhail T. Carnice (Silliman)

CREATIVE NON-FICTION:

Ma. Elena L. Paulma (Xavier)
Anna Carmela P. Tolentino (De La Salle)
Lamberto M. Varias, Jr. (UP Dilliman)

As for me, I am not a fellow, just an avid listener to the discussions and dissections of the literary works of the fellows. I am way too far behind the caliber of these young people. Only in their twenties and thirties and they write so well already. I am having the time of my life though, hearing people talk pithily about the persona, paradoxes, metaphors, heightened language, multiple meanings, images, cliches, word choices, line cutting and other such exotic fare.

si sonny, si auring at si sawi

Most people would like to finish college and graduate in the shortest possible time. Perhaps I belong to the weird ones who can’t seem to detach themselves from the academe. I just love going to school. (Ouch, stop throwing that…)

Consider this: after B.S. Zoology, there was M.D. and D.P.B.A., then there was B.S. Nursing and now there is M.A. Creative Writing. Do I have a hang-up about collecting so many letters after my name? I want to defensively say, definitely not. I know those are just letters and I’m a believer in the journey-destination mismatch. I love journeys. And on these numerous sojourns that I’ve embarked on, I have had the privilege of meeting a lot of (tor)mentors, three of whom will receive special mention in this post.

First, there was Mr. Sonny Daria, my biostatistics teacher in UP Diliman. I do not know where he is now but during my college days he was quite notorious in campus for being a terror teacher and there were several complaints from parents because our exams would always be overnight sessions held from 6 pm ad nauseum which meant up to 6 or 8 am the next day. He did not mind how long it took us to finish the exam as he practically lived in his office in Pavilion IV of the then AS building, anyway. The exams were always “open-notes and open-books” and of course, the answers were not in any of the books and notes that we lugged to the exam room.

Mr. Daria was a nutty-Einstein kind of professor but I looked up to him with awe and admiration, which my roommates said bordered on being a crush-ko-si-sir adulation. And why is that? It is because of the way my brain is wired. It is not programmed to understand numerical equations and formulations and the other mysteries and intricacies of mathematics. But Mr. Daria had a way of teaching, which I cannot put a finger on, that made me appreciate, and dare I say, comprehend, biostatistics. I surfed the net looking for Mr. Daria and instead found another blogger who said Sonny Daria was his favorite teacher, too! Yey!

Then after med school and residency, I went to the National Kidney and Transplant Institute for a fellowship and there met the most-feared and most-revered Dr. Aurea Ambrosio, our beloved Nanay Auring who kept us literally on our toes. We were not allowed to sit during the entire surgical procedure. Indeed there were no stools or seats allotted for the anesthesiologist/s in the OR. Oh, our poor varicose veins! We did a lot of vascular surgeries there and we would look at the vein stripping procedures as our unanimous and inevitable fate.

Being a board examiner, Dr. Ambrosio was particularly hard on us in didactics and in honing clinical skills. She told us that she was that way because someday, in case she needed anesthesia, who else would she trust but us? Not long after that pronouncement, her words came true and I remember our senior fellow, Dr. Chiqui, intubating Dr. Ambrosio. I’m not sure if he cried before, during or after the process. When Dr. Ambrosio recovered, we looked at her, at anesthesia, at learning, and at Dr. Chiqui, with new eyes.

And recently, being a member of the Silliman University Medical School faculty comes with the privilege of taking up any course in SU for free. And this is where I met the famous (or is it infamous?) Dr. Cesar Ruiz Aquino when I enrolled in a Creative Writing course. I was very excited to have this acclaimed writer as my mentor but with each meeting I was growing disenchanted because Sir Sawi’s ideas and beliefs decidedly clashed with mine. His abstract and unstructured way of thinking did not help and I would find my mind wandering off during class. Later I would come to class very late or be absent a lot.

Things came to a head during the final exams when I submitted a shamefully execrable paper which earned me a call for a meeting at his office. It was like a “please-see-the-principal” appointment which turned out to be an almost-heated exchange of disappointments and misconceptions which ended up with me saying, “Sir, if you give me an F I believe it is well deserved” to which he replied “That is the only answer that I liked in this whole conversation.” Wow. Talk about intense.

And like a good narrative, there is a denouement to this story. Today we have come to a truce. I have grown to respect his impeccable wordsmithry and accept the complicated way he thinks and (I hope) he has come to acknowledge that my interest in literature and writing is legitimate and sincere.

So, as the debatable cliché goes, the journey is more important than the destination. I do not know where all these road trips I am taking will lead. But I do know that I have met some very interesting persons, mentors, tormentors and fellow students as well, along the way.

Chelsea

Bernasconi, not Cl...!

Chelsea Bernasconi was 13 years old when she became the World Junior Champion in Wushu when she won the gold medal in the wushu spear division competition in Kuala Lumpur last August 2006.

The Manila Standard has dubbed her "A champion in life."

"JUST like any other teener, 13-year-old Chelsea Bernasconi is supposed to be discovering the joy of being an adolescent, hanging around with her friends, or spending more time at the chat room. But since getting hooked up into sports as early as seven beginning with gymnastics, Chelsea discovered how meaningful life can be with the talent God gave her.

Chelsea , whose real name is Francesca Ysabel, related to Standard Today recently that she dreams of playing in the Olympics someday. "

Find out why the Inquirer calls her "Snow white with the deadly kick."

And watch Chelsea in action in this YouTube video.



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Chelsea Bernasconi is a Filipino.

do us proud

photo courtesy of kaotep

As Brian ponders about the Renaissance Man, Rodolfo Tan Cardoso calls Wesley So the Renaissance kid of Philippine chess. Wesley So, at 14 years old, is the world's youngest chess Grandmaster. He won the tenth Dubai Open held last April 5-15, 2008 in Dubai.

How does one become a chess Grandmaster? It's a long, arduous process, outlined here, in case any of you is interested, or are wondering what road Wesley So has gone through to become a GM.

Wesley So is a Filipino.

From Myanmar

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Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, daughter of Burmese martyred national hero Aung San, is an opposition leader and human rights advocate who gave up personal freedom and a chance to be reunited with her husband and children in Great Britain so she can continue her fight for democracy in her country. Though placed under house arrest since 1989, she won as Prime Minister of Myanmar in 1990. However, she was was not allowed to serve her term and continues to be under house arrest up to the present.

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In 1995, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for her non-violent struggle for democracy and human rights.
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Damien Rice dedicated a song called "Unplayed Piano" to one of the greatest women in our time.

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Come and see me
Sing me to sleep
Come and free me
Or hold me if I need to weep
Or maybe it's not the season
Or maybe it's not the year
Or maybe there's no good reason
Why I'm locked up inside
Just cause they wanna hide me
The moon goes bright
The darker they make my night


Unplayed pianos
Are often by a window
In a room where nobody loved goes
She sits alone with her silent song
Somebody bring her home


Unplayed piano (unplayed piano)
Still holds a tune (still holds a tune)
Lock on the lid (years, years pass by)
In a stale, stale room (in the changing of the moon)
Maybe it's not that easy (too many windows)
Or maybe it's not that hard (in a stale, stale room)
Maybe they could release me (stale, stale room)
Let the people decide I've got nothing to hide
I've done nothing wrong
So why've I been here so long?


Unplayed pianos
Are often by a window
In a room where nobody loved goes
She sits alone with her silent song
Somebody bring her home


Unplayed pianos
Are often by a window
In a room where nobody loved goes
She sits alone with her silent song
Somebody bring her home


Unplayed piano (unplayed piano)
Still holds a tune
Years pass by
In the changing of the moon.


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