Chavi's point

I'm quite sure this particular client never reads my blog - in the middle of a ridiculously rush job, dozens of text messages coming in with edits, suggestions, directions coming in as I was trying to put together a story on the timeline. A text comes in from Ferdie asking if I was home. I am. On my way Chavi and Millie. Cool. A bottle of Jim Beam. Yes. I take a break at sunset. I can continue after dinner.

We reminisce about Baguio of two decades ago. We talk about our sons and daughters today. The challenges of playing the role of parents to teen-aged children. Of course we'd like them to be safe, avoid the mistakes we made.

Cue: Kenny Rogers' Coward of the Country.

"Promise me son not to do thing I've done... walk away from trouble if you can."

That's the biggest mistake we're making, actually, Chavi offers. Sure we made some stupid mistakes, and we don't want them to make the same mistakes as much as possible. So we tell them about those mistakes, try to make them understand and learn from those mistakes. But we have to realize that for them to learn from those is for them to actually make those mistakes too.

Good point.

"Now it don't mean you're weakIf you turn the other cheek
And I hope you're old enough to understand
Son, you don't have to fight to be a man"

I don't know, just take care, very good care, always.

Enough, please

No spare, spare none and waking up

The day was ushered in by a beautiful sunrise, I usually wake up before light these days as it has been for the past several years. While there are times when I wish I could stay under the covers a bit longer, I've learned to love waking up as the sun rises. 

This was a particularly good batch of yogurt, even our guest at home agreed after she helped herself to a bowl topped with honey. Even the first press of coffee was wonderful, I step out for a bit to check on the tomatoes and lettuces that Aeneas and I planted a couple of weeks ago and are now finally sprouting - they too seemed happy to welcome the new day. 

I drive Leon to school and our guests to the bus station to get a ride to Sagada - wished we were going too, and off to the rest of the morning's chores. Then I spotted this...

Life goes on for as long as it can, then lights out, and we don't know for sure what comes next. For now, this is it, the one and only life we have on this planet.

Jeepney wisdom, nothing like it. Go ahead, seize the day, bring about happiness and joy, that's what life, this life, is all about. Spare none.

Good day.

Binaliw ng kahirapan

Mary Jane Veloso's execution has been temporarily put on hold, and the reason for it depends on which side of the political fence you sit on.

It was Indonesian President Joko Widodo himself who said that his decision to grant Mary Jane a stay of execution was out of "the Indonesian government's desire to cooperate with the ongoing case in the Philippines."

"There was a letter from the Philippine government saying that there is a legal process related to human trafficking there. So we need to respect this legal process," a CNN report quoted Widodo saying. (CNN)

The Department of Foreign Affairs simply says, ""We are relieved that the execution of Mary Jane Veloso was not carried out tonight," said DFA spokesman Charles Jose. (GMA).

Migrante says credit should go to them. Veloso's mother echoed the same, and went on to bash the Aquino administration, and Aquino himself, "Dumating na kami dito sa Pilipinas para maningil. Maniningil kami, marami kaming singilin — marami kaming pautang eh, kaya lang hindi pera. Pautang sa gobyerno natin dahil hanggang sa huli, niloko pa rin kami..."

Let us not forget that what Veloso got was a postponement, not a cancellation, of her execution. Let us not forget, that the fight was about saving Veloso's life, and not about billing. Let us not forget, that in all this, we are taking advantage of Mary Jane all over again, using her, abusing her, along with her mother, to advance our respective political agendas.

Are, indeed, a nation of trapos? Have we, Filipinos, really gone that low that we now refuse to celebrate anything good that happens in, to this country? That we have lost all respect for each other?

In the meantime, Veloso's life still hangs in the balance.

  

Amado V. Hernandez said in his poem, "Kung Tuyo Na Ang Luha Mo Aking Bayan," 

Sa libingan ng maliit
ang malaki'y may libangan
Katulad mo ay si Huli, naaliping bayad-utang,
Katulad mo ay si Sisa, binaliw ng kahirapan

Dream theater

Tourists coming up to Baguio not only to watch a parade of plastic flowers and marching bands playing "What does the fox say?," or buy La Presa strawberries, or drink lattes and frappes in an over-sized mall precariously sitting on top of a fragile hill, but to catch the opening night of the latest original play by a local playwright to be performed by local actors in one of the several performance spaces that should have sprouted all over Baguio between now and 20 years ago.

Ticket prices to a play in Baguio today average P100.00. Well, I'm no economist but should I be happy that in October-November, 1996, when I staged "Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll" at the then BCF (now UC) Theater, our tickets went for P40.00?

I came, I saw, I stayed and searched for kindred souls to go on journeys with, share struggles with, and triumphs too, people who shared the same passion and love for the craft... artists I could collaborate with.

"Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll," directed and featuring myself and Ferdinand Balanag, production managed by Rl Abella, stage managed by Ado Cabjuan and sister Ningning, lighting designed by Perry Mamaril, who else was with us then?, ran for a few performances in BCF (now UC) then went on to have a re-run at the Bulwagang Juan Luna of UP Baguio. That first one screamed, the dream's not totally outrageous after all, it can be realized!

The next thing we knew, we were performing a play with a cast of 12 to an audience of 7, in a theater that powers-that-be in Baguio attempted to turn into a casino (the community opposed it, won, yet the slot machines and card tables are still set up inside, they say). Bubble burst.

But what can I do, theater blood runs in my veins, and aside from loving this art form too much, and despite the box-office flop that is "A Prelude to Kiss," I have also fallen in love with Baguio by then and I was free falling. Spread yourself as wide as possible to provide the strongest resistance possible and fall as gently and smoothly as possible.

I collaborated with some people, but turned out I hired more. Theater is a wonderful art form, but an unforgiving industry. One day you're treating the cast to a hefty dinner or a well-stocked open bar at a cast party, and the next you're handing over a watch to a cast member as payment because there's no more money to cover his "professional fee."

I couldn't resist, like seeing a plant with a bud at the end of a stem, you water it, cultivate the soil around it, commune with it, motivate it, urge, push... hoping that one day you'll be there when it blooms, in full splendor, color...

A singer sings like she's never sung before, the actor becomes someone he never knew he could become, telling stories that are worth telling, what a joy. The audience responds to that unique experience only theater can bring about... oh God.

It's hard when you pour your heart and soul into something that others just do to pass the time. But yeah, it's not right too to expect others to see things the way you do. Some read books to let their imagination take flight, some do because the movie was a blockbuster. That's just the way it is.

And theater just can't put food on the table, that's a fact too. But when you do hire people, they expect to get paid. Doesn't matter what your reasons are for bringing people in, or what they brought with them once there. While you envision an art work that could provoke one, two, three persons, or everyone in the audience to action, to thinking, to looking deep inside themselves or at the world around them in a way they've never done before, break on through that fourth wall and touch their hearts with a line, a soliloquy, a gesture, a sigh, a tear drop, some are just there because... I don't know, for reasons other than causing a supernova?

Anyway.

I'm tired. Time to get on the rest of this adventure with a clean slate. There are so many other ways to reach that audience, touch that heart, without unwittingly forcing others to be on a journey they had no plans of taking, get in a boat they don't want to row... what am I saying? I don't know.

Would've loved a better curtain call. But I guess this one ain't that bad at all too.

It's been great.

Thanks.

Filming a musical, staging a festival, participating in a revolution and nursing a flu

I really just have to remind myself that I am not that 23-year-old young man in tattered denim pants and jacket embarking on a new adventure in a new yet very familiar city where 8-hour long rehearsals during the day can still be capped with a night out in town at night.

Not that I've been barhopping though, but the last few weeks were toxic. The days leading tot he weekend of February 21-22 were spent polishing scenes scheduled to be filmed on the first two of a four-day shooting schedule. We plunged into those first two days blindfolded: although the play was a familiar one, filming remains a mostly un-chartered territory for the group. Editing the those first few scenes now, I can see how much we still have to learn about film production.

First two days done, and we schedule more rehearsals. We lose six dancers who were cast in supporting roles in several scenes, new dancers were brought in and we start from scratch. We receive word that the Baguio Flower Festival Foundation, Inc. has allotted some funds for the staging of the 5th Baguio Music Festival. We doubt if we cold still take on the responsibility of putting up a marathon concert, so we tried to get beg off. But we also couldn't let the opportunity to provide a gig for 20 or so local bands and individual musicians go, so we reconsider. In the meantime, almost everything's ready for the last two days of the filming of "Pangarap," a musical on the life of one Fernando Bautista.

Insert a People's Summit right here: February 25. Wasn't able to be of much help during the preparations, but I tried to be there early enough on the day of the summit. Projector set-up, registration ongoing, refreshments table organized and we were overwhelmed by the number of participants. We were expecting around one or two hundred, and we had over 600 who came, some had to sit outside the auditorium already.

Energy was inspiring, you know each one just wanted to do their share in making Baguio a better place for all of us.

Back to Pangarap the next day. That Saturday was also the day of the street dancing parade of the Baguio Flower Festival, and I didn't want to underestimate the traffic that it could bring. I arrive at the venue before sunrise ahead of the most of the throngs who were expected to fill up every inch of space along the parade route. There's a barber's chair on stage, I finish most of the coffee I got from 7-11 downstairs and take a nap.

We go through the next two days more smoothly, we did learn a lot from the first weekend. In the meantime, we have confirmed our participation in the 5th Baguio Music Festival. The following Monday after a very, very long Sunday, we were neck-deep in pre-production work for the planned open-air marathon concert at Wright Park. 22 bands and individual musicians so far, our budget can barely cover all expected expenses, but we end up adding more bands to the list. How can you say no to fellow artists who, just like you, are struggling to make ends meet? We order 120 souvenir t-shirts to be printed to be given away for free to every single participant. Did I mention that our budget can barely cover all expenses? We also decided to buy a television set to be given as donation to the Wright Park Pony Boys Association - a good source of amusement for the pony boys particularly on lean days when hardly customers show up for a ride.

The sun was brightly shining when we started setting up the stage and the sound system on March 8, Sunday, also the last day of Panagbenga 2015. Wright Park was a good choice, I thought, away from the crowds at the Central Business District.

By 3PM the first band was onstage doing a sound check. We requested for each performer to limit their time on stage to a maximum of 12 minutes, enough for 2-3 songs. But, once up there, you can hardly do anything anymore when they suddenly segue into an encore or a long ad lib. We were running late by 30 minutes by the time the first hour was up. Schedule kept moving by 5 minutes or so with every performance, some bands get irked, but hey, we're just trying to spread the love and give everyone a chance to be part of this.

The dusty, folk, rock and country music-filled concert, ended around 10pm and it was already midnight when I got to sit on a chair at home. I fall asleep in my chair.

I wake up to a slight fever, a bit of coughing and colds. I shrug it off and start doing post-production work on Pangarap. The body aches came later that day, but still had enough energy to go on working, even able to squeeze in some yard work, which I have neglected the past weeks, in between the splicing, sound processing and rendering.

Felt much better by midweek, so I proceed to start prepping The Living Room for the weekend's Yoga session - mopping, waxing, scrubbing the floors, moving furniture and plants around, even thought of re-opening the weekend cafe. The chills, fever and coughing lingered, but seeing the studio take shape just kept me going.

Went out yesterday to buy the necessary inventory for The Living Room's kitchen. Wanted to make curry, some yogurt, falafels, etc., but after I got home, the fever has gone up, the couch has worsened and I barely had enough energy to make the yogurt. At midnight I woke up shivering and no amount of blankets, sweaters, sweat pants, socks could keep me warm enough to stop the chills. I was shaking so bad, couldn't stop it and it really felt like I was going into hypothermia.

I was in and out of sleep, a bit delirious every now and then RL told me this morning - I was mumbling and mouthing off all sorts of things last night and most of it I have no recollection of whatsoever. I woke up this morning with a very heavy body and a really bad headache.

And, back to work.

Ang mabuhay ng dahil sa'yo

More than three decades ago, I was in first grade and I joined an elocution contest at school. I vividly remember the day of the contest – I was dressed in crisp white pants and an equally crisp white shirt. My grandmother couldn’t find the bow tie she bought for me that morning, and so she fashioned one from a black sock. The improvisation worked perfectly, looking now at the old photograph of myself on stage with one arm raised as I delivered the lines.

She also chose the poem I recited – The Unknown Soldier. I don’t remember the author anymore, so I searched for the poem online and several results for ones with that title came up. I read several hoping that a line or two from any one of them would help me remember which one I spent late nights on learning, memorizing that time in 1980. Two poems looked promising, they both sounded quite familiar.

I will never know the details of the tragic mission that led to the death of the 44 men of the Special Action Force. I know only what everyone else knows: they died a very painful death. So painful that the pain was felt all across the nation. And as the president decided that being there when their bodies were brought back from ground zero to the capital wasn’t enough to cancel his appearance at the inauguration of a car manufacturing plant, the pain just went deeper, and the people are furious. For really, how can he be so heartless?

A close friend of the family is related to one of the slain, but I myself do not know any one of them personally. And while I’ve recited poems almost all of my life, I never did learn how to write one myself. This is one of those moments when I wished I could.

But I do want to put this out there, to the unknown men who laid down their lives for Bayang Magiliw:

They have lowered flags at half-mast in your honor. We are all trying to get a handle on this and millions of our countrymen are eager to have their voices heard, to praise you and your honorable sacrifice. I cannot even begin to imagine what life must be like being one of you: keepers of the peace, defenders of the people and this nation. Unlike you, next to you, I am a coward. I don’t have the courage to carry a rifle, aim it at another human being and pull the trigger. I am not brave enough to get hurt that way, and even more afraid to cause another human being that much pain.

They are supposed to be fighting for something lofty, noble, but they had just committed a most dishonorable deed, those murderers. And while we struggle to come to terms with your tragic death pointing fingers are people whose names follow words like excellency and honorable, yet commit the most deplorable and dishonorable crimes against the people, I hope that we will also not forget that you died not only because of such deplorable and dishonorable acts of our leaders, but also because fellow Filipinos indeed aimed their guns at you and pulled the trigger.

Out of the countless ways we can live our lives, you chose to live yours serving this country. Now that is indeed honorable. Not all of us are given the chance to die for our motherland, but most of us do have the chance to live our lives for her. And that is, perhaps, the least we can do to honor you, the 44 martyrs who died serving our country.