Anastasia's turn

*a repost of my article in the Mar. 27 issue of Cordillera Today. 

After surviving the six hours in a cramped seat from Baguio to Balintawak, then another two and a half hours to traverse the length of EDSA to Pasay, then another hour to get to Las Piñas, I finally arrived at this salon and there she was – in her trademark denim shorts and no-nonsense t-shirt, seated in front of mirror, getting all dolled up by a hairstylist. And there, right before my eyes, with make-up and a hair style that can do in a few minutes what nature took all of 16 years to accomplish, this once baby girl was being transformed into a young woman. She kept on checking on me from the corner of her eyes, as if to make sure that I was watching. But of course I was, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.

“Papa, I’m done,” she sends me a text message, she probably didn’t realize that I was just there behind her the whole time. She turns around and smiled at me, and there’s my daughter, so beautiful, all ready.

It’s just gonna be me and her today, this much I told the usher when he approached me at my seat to tell me to get ready to put on the sash bearing the school emblem for Anastasia Sofia when she’s called onstage to receive her high school diploma.

Standing in the middle of the aisle in the school gymnasium, waiting for her name to be called, I watched her onstage – smiling, so happy, beaming with pride - and for a moment I felt sad that I wasn’t around when she performed right there in a school play, or cheered on her team during the intramurals. I wasn’t there at times when she needed help with a particularly challenging homework. I didn’t get to bring her to school in the morning, or pick her up in the afternoon.

But I am here now, walking toward her at centerstage. Her eyes sparkled as I placed the sash around her, embraced her, gave her a kiss, and offered my arm to her which she held tightly as we stopped for a while in front of the school photographer to capture the moment.

Later, we were at some restaurant for dinner, talking about what the rest of her life’s gonna be like – what she wants to do, who and what she wants to be. I remembered having this same talk with her older brother just a year ago, and I imagined how soon I’m gonna be having the same with her younger brothers and sister.

Follow your heart, always, I reminded her, and what matters most is that you’re happy.

What I didn’t get to tell her is that I hope she and her sister and brothers know that as they journey through life, when they stop to check, from the corner of their eyes,  to see if someone’s watching them, I will do all I can to always be there.

Congratulations, Anastasia Sofia, I am so proud of you.  

My Right

*a repost of my Feb. 13, 2011 column in the Cordillera Today

I have the right to free speech. I have the right to elect whomever I deem fit to be craft the laws of the land and the people who will enforce those laws. I have the right not to be held in slavery, nor be subjected to torture or other forms of cruel and inhuman punishment. I have the right to life, liberty and security of person. I have the right to live my life any way I want as long as I don’t violate the rights of others to live their own lives any way they want.

I respect the right of anyone to practice whatever faith they believe in, live their lives according to those beliefs. I respect the right of Catholics, and their right to live THEIR lives, according to THEIR beliefs and practices. I respect their right to bar women from becoming priests, even their reasons for it. I respect their right not to allow Catholic couples to divorce, not matter what the circumstances of their marriage may be. I respect their right refuse any form of artificial birth control – their right not to allow Catholic men to use condoms, or get vasectomies, and their right not to allow Catholic women to take birth control pills, or use Intra-Uterine Devices.  I respect their right to the belief that sex is sacred and should only be done for purposes of procreation, and not for mere pleasure. I respect that.

I, myself, will never, ever, impose my beliefs that are contrary to the teachings of the Catholic Church on any Catholic. I will never force  any Catholic I know who’s got five children just like I do, with a limited income just like me, to get a vasectomy like I did so I won’t have any more children so I can have a better chance  at providing for the five beautiful children that I already have. I will not force any Catholic man violating the teachings of his own church by having pre-martial, or at times, extra-marital, casual sex to wear a condom so he and his partner can have a better chance at not contracting any deadly, sexually transmitted disease. I do all that because I believe that my freedom, and right, to all of the above, end where the freedom of a Catholic person begins.

And that’s why I expect them to respect the rights of others, the non-Catholics, to practice whatever other faith they believe in, and live their lives according to those beliefs. That’s why I also expect Catholics to respect my right, and of those who share my belief, to decide to limit the number of children that I, we, can have by artificial means. That’s why I expect them to respect my right to be better informed about reproductive health, to learn about both natural and artificial means of birth control, and my right to choose whichever I want to use.

See, I respect their right to oppose the Reproductive Health Bill, their right not to have anything to do with it, not to know about it, their right to cover their eyes to the letters of the bill and their ears to what it hopes to tell the people about. And that’s why I expect them to respect my right to choose to have something to do with it, to open my eyes to the letters of the bill and my ears to what the bill aims to tell me about.

Freewill, God gave us, even the Catholics believe that. 

Songs of, by and for Baguio - Notes on Open Spaces - the 1st Baguio Music Festival

Two hours before the scheduled opening, we still didn’t have power. We were running all over the place buying cables and other electrical gizmos to upgrade the Botanical Garden’s (now known as the Baguio Centennial Park) electrical capacity to accommodate the lights and sound needed for the event. A man in his late 60’s lugging a guitar on his back approached me and introduced himself: his name was Mang Renato Cabasa, a jazz guitarist and vocalist and he was asking if he could perform. I politely told him that although we already have quite a full line-up we will see what we can do. He smiled and sat himself down on one of the monoblock chairs.

Venue of the festival at the Baguio Centennial Park

At 4:15PM, 15 minutes past the scheduled opening time, the lights finally went on and the speakers came to life - we were on. In an instant the first batch of featured  musicians were onstage plugging in their guitars, tuning the drums, checking the microphones. They were members of Fusion, one of Baguio’s foremost jazz bands. De facto band leader, master photographer Ric Maniquis, informed us that they will be performing “probably” five to six songs - a roughly half an hour to 45 minute-performance. After the welcome remarks from the festival chair, Baguio City Councilor Richard Carino, Fusion played their first number and Open Spaces - The 1st Baguio Music Festival, formally opened.

Kevin Cawiding of the Pinsao Cultural Group

Open Spaces was a runaway train after that - it felt like we weren’t running the festival, its energy was what’s pushing us to go on. Fusion kept going way beyond the projected five to six songs - the original seven musicians who went onstage kept growing and growing as friends of the band who were in the audience were called to jam with them who included festival chair, Councilor Richard Carino. The first day was dubbed, “Bandang Baguio,” and it featured some of Baguio’s better-known bands such as Deja Vu, Daluyon, Powerpuff Corn, Blugraz  along with veteran folk singer, Atty. Bubut Olarte and rocker Bong Dailo.

We had a lean audience due to the “bigger” events happening elsewhere in Baguio, but that didn’t stop Baguio’s musicians from committing themselves - mind, body and soul - to every riff, drum beat, bass line melody and harmony.

Ethnic rock band, Petune

If you weren’t there, you should have been - the production design was really simple: plain black platforms, a few plants here and there, basic stage lights  and sound system. But we did have a magnificent backdrop - the park’s towering pine trees that peered in and out of Baguio’s afternoon fog. We did have an LCD projector screen in the background where images of Baguio’s open spaces were shown, and every now and then, words that encouraged the viewer to help protect and preserve these remaining albeit slowly disappearing treasures of one of the most beautiful hill stations in the world.  

No head banging, hardly any alcohol or whatever mind-altering substances - but I did see a lot of people with eyes closed as they took in every note played, every word sung, every story told. It was quite a high, really.

The second day, “Classical Melange,” featured local classical and musical theater artists. Tenor John Glen Gaerlan opened that afternoon’s line up with well-loved arias, followed by theater actress Raye Baquirin who spectacularly sang solos from various Broadway musicals. After surviving the Panagbenga traffic, soprano Kay Balajadia-Liggayu finally arrived and went directly on stage and a hush fell over the park as her beautiful voice, singing O Mio Babbino Caro, soared effortlessly on that chilly Baguio afternoon.

The rest of the evening belonged to Baguio’s budding classical artists and veteran theater actors - baritone Lloyd Virgo-Cruz set the tone with a powerful rendition of Nessun Dorma, his voice conquering the whole of the Baguio Centennial Park which merited a thunderous applause from the audience. Is he from Baguio? a flabbergasted  tourist asked. Yes, he is, sir.    

Abby Clutario of Fuseboxx with CJ Wahu

The third day started a bit earlier than the usual with an open forum attended by local musicians. Under a canopy of pine trees, we talked about where the local music industry is now, where it’s been, and where we hoped it would be tomorrow. The artists shared their heartaches and triumphs through the years. Then guests from out of town arrived and asked if they could share their music with us, and while the afternoon was supposed to feature only original works by Baguio artists, we thought it would be nice to have visitors played as front act to local musicians instead of the other way around, for a change. And we’re glad to have made that decision, for soon after the ethnic musicians and dancers of the Pinsao Cultural Group lead the people to the performance area,  the quartet composed of Indian musician, CJ Wasu, Taiwanese Luo Chao-yun, together with Filipino artists Abby Clutario and Eric Tubon performed music that added much more color to the festival. Then Jun Utlieg took center stage, performing original folk songs that paid tribute to the beauty of Baguio, followed by Petune, an ethnic rock band, and Binhi. Our group, Open Space, performed excerpts from our musical on Baguio’s history, Kafagway: Sa Saliw ng mga Gangsa. The groups Yin Yang Theory and One Mic capped the three day event with their very own masterpieces. And while One Mic was performing their last number, I walked over to Mang Renato Cabasa, who have been patiently waiting for three days to go onstage, and informed him that he’s next. With a big smile on his face, he unpacked his weathered guitar and started tuning it.

And while we thought of ending the festival with a bang - perhaps a rock band? A hip-hop crew? A drum circle? - we couldn’t have found a better final act than Mang Renato. Softly, calmly, he plucked his guitar and his soothing, quiet voice filled the air - there, out in the open at the Baguio Centennial Park, at the end of the 3rd day, it was just him, his guitar, his music under the stars and the trees.

We thank everyone who helped make the 1st Baguio Music Festival a huge success: The Baguio Flower Festival Foundation, Inc., the Office of the Hon. Richard Carino, Beneco, the University of Baguio, the FRB Foundation, Ms. Cynthia Tabora-Tuason, Luisa’s Cafe, Sunstar Baguio, Cordillera Today and of course, our very own artists whose passion for their craft and love for Baguio are truly remarkable. For three days on February 25, 26 and 27, 2011, it  wasn’t about any one person, or one band, nor was it about who’s better, who’s more popular, who’s bigger - it was all about love - for music, and for Baguio. 

This is just the 1st, we all agreed in the end - and as long as there are people who will listen, we will continue to sing of, and for Baguio.

Lucky, indeed

*a repost of my Feb. 13, 2011 column in the Cordillera Today

I am 6 ft. tall, and despite the prolonged healing process the universe decided for my left knee after injuring it last year, I believe I can still be considered as athletic. While decades of smoking has taken its toll on my stamina and cannot go through a whole basketball game in one go, with ample water breaks and breathers, I can still finish a dose-dose game, jog over five kilometres, drive down to manila at 12 midnight, work all day, and drive back up at the end of the day. Heck, I can still easily lug two mid-sized house speakers up and down the Art Park of Camp John Hay. But I must admit, and I’m sure my better half will nod in agreement (with eyes rolling), that I’m such a baby when I’m sick. Whether it’s a full blown flu or simple colds, I would need to be taken care of like someone in a hospital’s ICU. So you can imagine how it’s been since I came home from a major surgical procedure for something that has been given me what has been one of the greatest scares of my life.

I’ve had this infected tooth for a couple of months so when a lymph node got swollen last December, I didn’t give it much thought. But one time, while having lunch at the house of a friend who’s Baguio’s best guitarist and who also happens to be a nurse, he noticed the lump on my neck and with genuine panic in his eyes and real urgency in his voice, said, “kuya, pa-check mo kaagad yang bukol sa leeg mo. Please, as soon as possible.”

My wife and I have noticed it too, but were perhaps too scared to find out what it really was and be confronted with some dire scenario. I would notice the worry in her eyes every time she looked at that lump, the same worry I have on mine whenever I saw it in the mirror. So when that friend, Ethan Andrew Ventura, finally verbalized what’s been going on in our heads, we thought it was time to go see a doctor.

Had that pesky tooth pulled out one morning and later that day, I went to see an EENT doctor. It’s funny how every time we’re confronted with our mortality, our brain goes into overdrive and like a runaway train, bombards us with thoughts that we would never conjure up willingly. I sat in the doctor’s lounge waiting for my turn, thinking how the scene right before me would be the scene that played the day I find out that I don’t have that much time anymore. Finally, my name was called. It’s nothing serious, the doctor said, knowing that I had just had an infected tooth removed, the swelling was just a result of that, he said. He prescribed some antibiotics and told me that while the drugs would reduce the swelling, I shouldn’t expect it to totally go away for the next couple of months. I breathed a sigh of immense relief, and immediately texted the good news to my wife.

Fast forward to about a couple of weeks later – the swelling didn’t subside, in fact, it seemed like it worsened. We decided to get a second opinion, and the second doctor said that while the first diagnosis could be correct, we should not totally disregard the other possibilities. Among those possibilities is the dreaded Big C. He suggested going in there to remove it and get a biopsy.

The first hurdle for a struggling artist like me is of course the cost of the procedure for despite the offer of two doctor friends to offer their services for free, hospital costs, while reasonable, are still beyond the reach of this man on the street. We inform the doctor that we’ll first try to collect from my clients whose accountants naturally don’t care about the urgency of my situation. We inquire from them if how soon can that check from an performance I directed a month ago; or that one for the event I covered on video weeks ago; or the one for performances we did last month can be released. Not soon enough. And then one day we received a call from my guardian angels – family, who informed us to go ahead and schedule the surgery asap and not to worry about cost as they would be covering it. And so last Thursday, I found myself being wheeled into the operating room. 

At the operating table, noted anaesthesiologist Dr. Robert Capuyan, and trusted surgeon Dr. Joey Ancheta discuss the procedure, and I felt relieved that I am leaving it all in the capable hands of friends. I found myself drifting off and just a couple of minutes, everything went black. I woke up an hour and a half later and I was just so glad that I found myself back here, in a recovery room of a hospital in Baguio. 

Another half an hour later and I as in a hospital room surrounded by my family and friends – and while the wound prevented me from laughing out loud, I managed a huge smile and a slight chuckle when my sons said that I was so lucky – I’m lying on what they thought was the coolest bed they’ve seen (it can be raised with just a few turns of a lever!), I have food delivered, there’s a TV bolted on the wall across me, and there’s hot shower in the bathroom!

The results of the biopsy won’t come out until after seven days, but as I browsed through my two elder children’s messages online, and watched my younger ones excitedly exploring the hospital room – pressing this and that button, changing the channel, turning the shower on and off, and laughing their heads off, I clutched my wife’s hand tightly and thought how lucky I am, indeed.

Sailing on the wings of a cloud...

*a repost of my Feb. 6, 2011 column in the Cordillera Today


“…Where to, well, nobody knows...” For those born in the early 70’s, it was the time of transition from being clueless teen-agers to angsty young adults. At the time that band called Fra Lippo Lippi filled the local airwaves, the lyrics in our heads were, “wake me up before you go-go,” “children behave – that’s what they say when we’re together,” or “gotta catch a plane at 7:30.” For the lanky 17-year olds in our neighborhood at the time, reciting the poetry (because we sang  them out of tune) of this new band meant the end of being a kid and the beginning of being mature, grown up. Naks, as we used to say. Of course we never knew what Fra Lippo Lippi’s lyrics really meant. But we sang our hearts out anyway.

The band’s name is also the title of a mid-19th century dramatic monologue by Robert Browning. With “Fra Lippo Lippi,” the Victorian poet paints a portrait of real life painter, Filippo Lippi, who faces the Augustinian conflict of whether to live “a religious life committed to the Church or a life of leisure.” The monologue also poses the question of whether art should show a real or an idealized image of life – Rent or Mary Poppins, an Amorsolo or a Bose, “if you’re not here by my side” or “die everyday to be free.”

The song, “Light and Shade,” became a hit in the Philippines in 1987. The chorus told us to “Sail on the wings of a cloud / Where to, well nobody knows” and to “cry, cry if you want them to see / Die every day to be free.”

“Be proud to wear the colours that you call your own
Be loud, speak out when you want the world to know
Be strong, hold the flame for everyone to see
Be real, if you want to love”

Nice. For us, it was a fitting introduction to the real-life angst-filled decade that was to follow – the 90’s when no one ever bothered to tell us “life was going to be this way / Your job’s a joke, you're broke, your love life's D.O.A. / It's like you're always stuck in second gear / And it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, / or even your year.” The time when, with one hand in our pocket, we asked what if God were one of us?

I missed their sold out concerts in Manila back in the late 80’s, but two decades later, they’re back. Well, he’s back – since only the lead vocalist, Per Øystein Sørensen, is. It will be nice to revisit those lyrics now that most of us have gone through so much more than doing head spins and slam dancing after bottles of The Bar. Presented
locally by Jenny Manansala-Bautista of Waltrix Productions, Sørensen takes us back in time on February 12 at the UB Gym.

I’ll be there, with kids in tow, it’ll be nice for them to hear the songs we sang when we were their age. And perhaps this time around, when we sing, “He will paint the endless sea / A mystery to me,” I’ll have a better idea about what’s it all about. 

Burnham, open spaces and Open Space

I haven’t really had the chance to catch my breath since the year started. Just when a particular project’s about to end, another one begins. And out of all the ones that have either been done or begun, there are three that have sparked inspiration not just in me but in the people I work in collaboration with.

First, I’d like to talk about the recently opened exhibit at the Atrium of SM City Baguio – “City Beautiful?” The exhibit showcases Daniel Burnham’s vision for Manila at the turn of the century, and the question mark at the end of the exhibit title underscores the way the capital turned out a century since the renowned architect envisioned it as a city that will “promote a well-balanced social order that would increase the quality of life of its citizens.” Take a walk along the streets of Manila today and you’ll understand that question mark better. Our group, Open Space, was fortunate enough to be invited to be part of the opening ceremony for the exhibit. We performed excerpts from the musical, “Kafagway: Sa Saliw ng mga Gangsa” and showed the documentary on the history of Baguio, “Portrait of a Hill Station.” When we received word that we were going to be tapped to handle the event, we decided to do something that would remind the audience that Baguio is not far from having that question mark too if we don’t act now. Sure, we’re not there yet, but we’re getting closer and closer as we farther and farther from Burnham’s original vision for the city.

Which brings me to two other projects that somehow relates to the one above – the series of performances that we have been doing at the Art Park of Camp John Hay and the planned music festival in the city in the coming weeks. After performing mostly in enclosed performance spaces, being out in the open surely sparked something in us that made us decide on our advocacy for the year – the preservation of Baguio remaining open spaces. In case you didn’t know, among Burnham’s top priorities when he came up with the “Plan of Baguio” was to create and preserve open spaces for the benefit of the future citizens of Baguio. Minac, or what we now know as Melvin Jones field, was the largest piece of flat land in what was then Kafagway. Imagine if our current administrators were the ones who were tasked to design Baguio a hundred years ago – perhaps Minac would have been their first choice to turn into a commercial hub. But no, Burnham reserved that space for a huge public park – and thanks to him, we still enjoy the benefits of that decision to this day.

So through stories, images and music, we shall go out there, out in the open, in the coming weeks, months, and for as long as there are people willing to hear us out – let us preserve our city’s remaining open spaces. So that amidst the hustle and bustle of rapid urbanization, in these open spaces, the city, and all of us along with it, will continue to be able to heave a sigh every now and then.

Here we are today

I’ll leave New Year’s resolutions, inspiring messages, you know - the niceties, to the others, there’ll be lots of that from other columnists in the first days of the New Year.

So this is how it’s going down, it seems – get elected, mess up some, get re-elected, mess up some more, get replaced by an overwhelming majority, then whine about how the new guy seems to be taking forever to clean up the mess, then get re-elected – in the US of A, that is. Alas, poor Barrack, he’s just  not a miracle worker. Never mind that it took two Bush terms to create the mess, the whole world expects him to win the war against terror; restore order in Afghanistan and Iraq; lead the country (and the world with it) towards a 360-degree economic U-turn all in one term. Or he’s out. Miss Palin is already salivating, and if she does end up as the next White House resident, let’s not be surprised if she places all blame for the mess in Afghanistan, Iraq, the economy, etc. on Obama. So unless he any of the Herculean tasks above done, that’s probably how things will play out next year Stateside.

Well, that’s how it already played out in this tiny little overly-populated highly-urbanized city. The Centennial mayor assumed office with a looming garbage crisis. The deadline for an acceptable garbage management system was fast approaching, thanks to the inaction during the past several years before that, and the garbage did hit the fan soon after. None of the things he did or did not do mattered anymore since then – fact was, the streets of Baguio had piles of stinking, rotting uncollected garbage. He was not able to clean up the mess in his three years as chief executive, and so he was booted out. A new set of officials were elected. Let me correct that – an old set of officials were re-elected. The same people whom we quite overwhelmingly said no to just six years ago because, let me refresh your memory here: allegations of widespread corruption, lack of vision, for trying to ram a casino down our throats, and selling out to a on-street pay parking company, among others.

And here we are today. We still don’t have a solid waste management system in place and so stinking, rotting uncollected garbage still litter our streets, despite the promise to solve that problem in a mere couple of months. Perhaps last year’s election season exhausted the pundits, the media, the bloggers, and the online rabble-rousers that this thing’s going unnoticed these days. But seriously, we can’t really blame the “present administration” alone for this, in fairness to the present City Hall occupant, it just can’t be done overnight – and even if it can, things done overnight often turn out to be duds.  I put “present administration” in quotation marks, yes, and also the word “alone” after that, for “the present administration” is not the only one to blame for the crisis, but also the past ones. That crisis started in 2001 when the Ecological Solid Waste Management Act was passed in congress, and hardly anything concrete was done except for concrete flyovers and pine trees. Sure the Centennial Mayor should have probably focused more on that problem, so ok, let’s put him in the loop too.

Oh wait, before I get the flak for focusing on who’s to blame instead of on finding a solution, allow me to say that perhaps the best way to find that solution is to look at the root of it all. Besides, that’s why the people elected the present officials into office – because all of the city’s current woes were blamed on the previous administration. The people bought it, some of them were bought, and now…

…well, as I said, here we are today.