Down South
Celebrating Davao writers
Three minutes before 9pm on Friday, 20 November 2009, the technical crew hit the switch and the house lights went up for me. Dom Cimafranca, ever the gentleman, placed the high chair I requested in front of the mike so I could sit and mask my stage fright enough to address the smiling faces.
Thank you, Dom.
It wouldn’t have looked right for me
To karga my own bangko.
It had to be the high chair.
My high horse wouldn’t do.
Not for the high road I was taking.
(Oh, Don Pagusara, rescue-ha ako!)
Because there you have it:
I am terrible at poetry.
My attempt above shows you why it will be a while yet before I get anointed into the elite ranks of the Davao Writers Guild. For now, I am content to shine the light on Davao’s gift to the world.
Friday night was Davao Writers Night, which we mounted to culminate the academic publishing conference of the National Book Development Board. Atty. Andrea Pasion-Flores, NBDB Executive Director, was so interested at the prospect of showcasing Davao prose, poetry and plays when the idea got proposed some months back. My agreement to organize the event was one of my pikit-mata moments. You probably get moments like that, too, when you go, “I don’t know how I’ll do it, but I’ll do it.”
At that time, I didn’t see how, really. So much to do, so much to do. White Rabbit says “I’m late, no time.” And in the space it takes to blink, Gail jumps in feet first. Bow to Serendipity and she’ll open up new dimensions in time and space. Have faith.
As it turned out, a lot of people were just as eager for this rare cultural event to become a reality. Mac Tiu immediately volunteered to read an excerpt from one of his Palanca Award-winning stories. Don Pagusara threw in the Teatro Humanidades for an excerpt of his play. Later, he said he’d write pieces for the occasion. He could do that, too. Don literally attracts the words from empty air and strings them together–sometimes playfully, sometimes really long and headache-y. Oh, I prayed he wouldn’t write an ode to my spaghetti straps, as he had been mischievously threatening to do for years now.
I rang up Ms. Aida Rivera-Ford for a sneak preview of the autobiography I know she’s working on. Ever gracious, she got out her social calendar and marked off the date. Fr. Albert E. Alejo texted back to say he’d keep the date open, too.
Davao Writers Guild president Ric de Ungria suggested the UP Mindanao Dance Ensemble to interpret some chosen literary pieces. Ric also got the DWG members to come to a meeting and volunteer to present their respective pieces for the program. We considered doing an open mike segment, but later nixed it.
Running around, I bumped into my student Nigel de Castro. Take that as Serendipity throwing people I needed my way. In the time it took us to walk down the corridor, I asked him if his gang was up to doing the doxology, national anthem and an intermission number on that night. He said yes as they were rehearsing anyway for a concert at CAP Auditorium this weekend. I thought all the while Nigel was with Subdominant 7. That’s how I billed his group in the early copies of the proposed program. It’s not Subdom, as I was to find out later. It’s Ateneo Glee Club and Carillon. Come hear them this weekend.
I dragged in LY Bernardino-Veneracion for emceeing chores. She said she needed a babysitter and a script. She took care of the first, Rene Estremera handled the second. Like a neuron firing off, Rene got into the all-or-nothing mode. He also signed up to stage manage the show and direct the rehearsals. The electric surge had him pulling in Davao Museum’s Pamela Chi to do the lights and sounds.
Two weeks to curtain call and we had the makings of a show. May I say I have never worked with a more professional crowd. They showed up for rehearsals on time and helped each other decide how best to make the presentations better. There were no prima donnas here! True writers are such a disciplined people. At the rehearsals, I found it a pleasure to observe their sense of community and appreciation for each other.
Everybody just pulled in and pulled in the same direction. Serendipity kept sending the stuff we needed our way. There was one rehearsal night when we ate well because Bing Sobrevega-Chan and Christine Diaz gave us baked lasagna left over from their forum on migrant labor. Most nights, the cast and crew shared more modest fare or we only had our enthusiasm to tide us over.
Team Tambara – Bel Actub, Lani Rivera and me – played support, sourcing equipment and coordinating the requirements for the venue. Bel got Ryan Fuentes of Campus Ministry to do the set. Gamely, Ryan foraged the General Services jungle for stuff he could use to augment his shoestring budget. Ate Lani chased after janitors, carpenters, security guards and the AVR crew. I resurrected high chairs from my mother-in-law’s bodega and commandeered the music sheet stand of the 10ID band (Guys, if you are looking for it, it’s with me.)
And so on the balmy evening of 20 November, we had a show.
And what a show! The Grand Dames – literary icons Tita Lacambra-Ayala, Aida Rivera-Ford, and Josie Tejada – gave such brilliant performances. It was worth braving the rains just to hear them. Fr. Albert, Mac, Don, Dom, Ricky Villafuerte, and Jhoanna Cruz were just as enthralling.
Not to be outdone, the younger set sang and danced their hearts out. Maureen Antonette Osorio was such a delight essaying Aida Ford’s Love in the Cornhusk. Her dance interpretation, for which she collaborated with Catherine Rose Bengan, had the author rushing to the stage to graciously present her one more time to the awed audience.
Oh, Maureen! Girl, your dance made me remember what it was like reading a love letter in secret up on a branch of my favorite avocado tree! No mean feat. After all, the tree is probably dead now, the letter did not survive, and that memory is older than you.
Rochelle Medrano and Clyde Rubas performed a very creative ant dance as choreographed in collaboration with Bengan and Naomi Rose Kimura. Gianne Manzano strutted the stuff that mad for Ms. Tejada’s The One That Got Away.
The Ateneo Glee Club and Carillon wowed the crowd with an Abba medley.
Under the direction of Nonoy Narciso, the Teatro Humanidades played an excerpt from Don’s Suwab sa Pulong.
It is so rare to get this mix of stellar performers together, and when we do we’re likely to end up with an event so priceless. Cosmic. What a very wonderful night it was. It was a feast for the mind, the spirit, and – not to be left out – the palate. (If like a lot of people there you too are wondering who did our sumptuous, generous, delicious cocktail spread, please call Aiwah Sion at 09209224800. Shoestring secrets ought to be shared.)
I knew that crowd of student writers and literary buffs wished there was more because they actually stayed on their seats for the closing remarks. Nah – I think they did that because the program promised we’d bring back Paringbert to do it. He had to go though, so I had to choke down stage fright and give an impromptu spiel from my high chair.
The audience was kind to me. I believe my closing remarks was the number that got the most applause that night. Thank you, everyone.
It was 9pm and we were done. And just in time, too. We we’re scraping bottom and didn’t have enough to pay the janitors overtime.
That night, the shoestring frayed, but held. For the nth time, Serendipity smiled when I jumped in feet first, eyes shut. She always does.
