Lola Aryang

1 March 2023

Dearest Lola Aryang,

It’s your 123rd birthday. Unsure if you have reincarnated already but I feel your presence.

It’s metaphysical.

Around 4 years ago, I downloaded this photo of you. Tita Nila sent it, I think. I was happy to see your face again. Never forgot it but it’s different to see it in front of me.

Several years ago, it dawned on me that you are my guide.  I am grateful that you never left.

My childhood was happy and one of the reasons was your presence.  It wasn’t loud nor nagging. It was quiet and caring. You were my constant at home. My safe space.

I remember going through your cabinet and found several dresses still new because you never used them. You often wore an old dress with another skirt (or apron) on top. It was already old that’s why my aunts and uncles gave you new ones. But you didn’t wear the gifts.

I didn’t really understand before how you are related to us. But now I fully understand. Not by blood but by love.

You and my great grand lolo didn’t have children. You were his second wife. I heard your husband had other ladies.

Nevertheless, you treated us like your own.

My feet and hands already sweated unusually since I was young. My feet also got cold easily despite the warm Imus weather. I remember putting up my feet on your lap. You would dry the sweat off and try to warm them. This while Noel and I played.

I remember when the ice cream vendor passed by and I wanted one but I wasn’t given money so I locked myself in the my room. You tried to woo me and said you’ll buy one for me.

They said I was your favorite although I didn’t feel that nor did I take advantage of it.

But now I do. You chose to be my guide. I love you very much, Lola.

My Hands

I have ugly hands, I thought. The fingers are uneven, the nails are not uniform. But what makes me not like them are my anxiety callouses on the index, thumb and their midpoint. On both hands. I press and rub on these areas when I’m stressed.

I guess they are the marks that say I didn’t hurt anyone or didn’t do anything stupid because I was not feeling good. My hands just took and bore the brunt. Four decades of it.

My source of insecurity for the greater part of my childhood was from my full lips. But that is long gone thanks to Angelina Jolie. The insecurity that lasted until now? My hands.

I gaze at my Nanay’s hands. Her hands that day in and day out do thankless jobs for the family and for everybody else.

Her hands are always cold. I held them recently and tried to warm them. I think they need circulation. Of course that’s the least of her worries because she always puts everyone first before herself.

I look at my hands. Mine are a photocopy of hers. They are beautiful.

HULING HABILIN

18 Abril 2020, Balsigan

Kapag namatay ako, susunugin ang aking katawan.  Isang araw lang ang lamay.  Hindi na ako kailangang puntahan.  Patay na ako eh.  Kung makikiramay sa aking pamilya, mas magandang bumisita ng walang dahilan.

Hindi ko kailangan ng urn.  Ihalo sa pataba o ihagis na lang sa mahanging lugar.  Pwede sa bangin sa tabi ng aming tahanan sa Tagaytay o di kaya sa Bauko kung hindi ko pa ito napuntahan.  Kahit man lang yung abo ko makapunta at pati yung taong magdadala at maghahagis nito.  Matutuwa ako kung matuwa siya sa lugar na yun.

Sa araw ng lamay, gusto ko ipatugtog ang:

“Kissing” ng Bliss.  Nasa Chill-Out Project ni Anton Ramos, Track 3.

“Sunshower” ni Chris Cornell. 

“Then Came a Thousand Elephants”.

“Comet’s Tail” album ni Cynthia Alexander. Tracks 1, 3, 4, 5, 10, 13, 14.

Lalo na ang kantang No Umbrella.  Yan ang kanta ko kay Gari.

Wala akong kayamanan, mga naipong perang pinaghirapan lang.  Madaling gastusin.

Ang tanging matuturing ko na may halaga ay ang mga piyesang ginawa ko at mga art barter. Siguro pati yung mga sinulat ko sa journals mula noong bata ako, mga tula.  Mga pinagdaanan, naramdaman, natutunan.

Pwedeng basahin pero malamang boring yun.  Pero kahit hindi na itago. Pwedeng punit-punitin at isama sa pataba.

Ang tanging naging silbi ng aking pagsusulat ay ang huminga.  Minsan umiiyak habang humihikbi.  Paghinga rin yun.  Pahinga.

Halos lahat ng ginawa ko ay self-portrait.  Kung ano ako dati, sino ako ngayon at ano ang aking mga ninanais at hinahangad.  Sabi ni Gari mahirap maintindihan ang mga gawa ko.  Mahirap nga akong maunawaan.  Kaya kapag may nakagusto, ibang klase ang katuparan at kaligayahan.

Para sa mga kaibigan at kamag-anak na bumili at mga artists na nakipag-barter ng art, kahit papaano tataas yang halaga niyan dahil patay na ako.  Maraming salamat sa inyo.  Pinasaya niyo ako.

Sariling Wika

Nag-i-Inglis-an ba kayo sa bahay? Taglish? Bakit?
kapwa = neighbor = kapitbahay?
siya = he or she
tinig = sound
takipsilim, dapithapon = sunset
Nawawala ang lalim ng kahulugan sa pagsasalin, di ba?
May nakilala akong bata, wala pang tatlong taon, napakatatas magsalita. Diretso mag-Tagalog. Naubusan ako ng mga kataga sa kanya. Siya naman, dumadaloy lang na parang ilog ang mga salita.
Nang magpapaalam na, sabi ko, Dapithapon na. Malapit na kaming umalis. Sabi niya makalipas ang isang segundo, Takipsilim! Oo nga naman! Ang sarap tambayan ng bata. Nakakakilig!
Noong ako’y nasa mababang paaralan, ang aking natutunan ay mas mababa ang sariling wika kaysa sa wikang dayuhan. Kailangan magbayad ng multa kapag hindi ka nag-Ingles.
Noong mga panahong iyon, hindi ko matawag ng “Nanay” at “Tatay” ang aking mga magulang kapag nasa paaralan dahil ang mga kaklase ko ay gumagamit ng Mama, Papa, Mommy, Daddy. Ayokong maiba. Kapag naiba, pinagti-tripan. Alam na alam ko yan.
Naalala ko na nagkukunwari kami ng aking pinsan na mag-Ingles hanggang dumugo ang aming ilong dahil “sosyal” at yamanin ang dating.
Pinanuot sa ating kamalayan na hindi maganda ang ating nakagisnan!
Sa pampublikong paaralan ngayon mayroon ng “mother tongue”. Sana manumbalik na rin ang sinauna nating pagsusulat: baybayin.
Masyado na tayong naging maka-Kanluran sa pananamit, pag-iisip, pananalita, mentalidad, pagkain. Masyado ng malalim ang pagkahiya sa kung sino tayo. Tigilan na natin ang pagiging brown American. Nakakaawa (at nakakatawa) sa totoo lang.
Nakakainis na kapag taal ang iyong pananagalog, napagtatawanan ka pa. Ang labo.
Sana maging mahalaga sa bagong salinlahi ang sariling wika. Kaakibat nito ang ating kultura. Kultura bago dumating ang mga mananakop.
Natutuwa ako kapag may mga batang nagka-Kankanaey, Ilokano, Bisaya, Panggalatok, at iba pa. Napakabihira na kasi. Hindi pa tayo ganap na nasakop. Nagkakaroon ako ng pag-asa.
Maraming salamat sa mga naninindigang gamitin ang sariling wika sa kani-kanilang mga tahanan. Mga bayani kayo!

BARTER

BARTER: a system which goods or services are exchanged for other goods or services instead of for money.

From my experience, this is a trade of “surplus”.  There is no set value.  If I have a surplus of gold but I need rice, I would exchange gold for rice.  As much as it seems nonsensical (and “unfair” in terms of monetary value), it doesn’t matter. It is according to need (or want).

The most important thing about this arrangement is that both parties must come to a unanimous agreement.  Both must be satisfied and happy.  Sincerity, transparency and honesty are required.  There must be no obligation or coercion.  No ill-feelings.  No regrets.

I like bartering.  It balances things.  Both exchanges are valuable.  It’s an equalizer.  No one is above the other.

20 April 2020, Baguio City

Paniningil ng Utang na Loob

Naniningil ka ba ng “utang na loob”?
Ito yung tipong may gagawin o ibibigay ka na ang intensyon ay tumanaw ng utang na loob ang ginawan mo nito. Manipulation pala at hindi kawanggawa. Ginagawa para ibaon ang kapwa sa utang.
Naniniwala ako sa palitan o exchange. Malinaw. Malinis.
Kung tunay na nagbibigay, hindi ka na umaasa ng kapalit at hindi mo rin ipipilit na tanawin ito balang araw.
Kung “nagbibigay” ka na umaasa ng kapalit, DAPAT linawin mo ito sa tumanggap para walang samaan ng loob.
Sa mga naniningil ng utang na loob, pakiusap, tigilan niyo na. Kung hindi maluwag sa inyong kalooban, huwag na.

Free

I want to share this with you because it’s something that frees me.

We all have a lot of things.  Many have too much.  And we don’t know what to do with them.

It may be that top you’ve been wanting to wear but when you do, it doesn’t seem to suit you anymore.  It can be that extra charger that reappeared after you thought went missing and so bought a new one.

I would like to share with you my experience in decluttering, not just the space but my life.

Some months ago, I started leaving things, big and small, in private and public spaces: a toilet cubicle, an empty seat in a restaurant, a park, etc.

The things are individually packed but of course I use used containers or plastic bags to be more environment-friendly.  With the thing, I place a note that says: “Kung nakita mo ito, ito ay para sa iyo.” (If you see this, this is for you.)

I will never know who will pick up the found item nor will I see the response.  Maybe it’s the janitress, maybe it’s a homeless person, maybe it’s someone who needs that particular thing I left.  But that’s the point.  I would like to give it out there without expecting anything.  The only wish is: Hopefully the finder will have use for it.

My mind for many years now is in the declutter mode.  If the stuff is saleable, I put it online to sell.  If it’s something my friends would appreciate, I gift it.  If it’s, I put it out there. 🙂

You see, when you declutter, you also give space for your mind to breathe. 🙂

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A Blind Man’s Sight

Contagious smile
Kidlat Tahimik and Rogelio
Kidlat appreciates his creations
Rogelio and his works

I have seen and touched his life-size rattan sculptures.  The human-like ones have seemingly deep-set eyes as if the eyeballs are not there.  He even made a water buffalo complete with its organ.  He’s that precise.

Why am I making a fuss out of the works?  Because the artist, Rogelio Guinannoy, is blind.  He had lost his sense of sight from getting measles when he was still an infant.

I was fortunate to meet Rogelio in person.  He is from Ifugao but now lives in Communal, Solano, Nueva Vizcaya.

I was in a van from Ifugao to Baguio with Kidlat Tahimik.  We were going home from the Punnuk Festival in Hungduan, Ifugao.  Kidlat said we will visit Mang Rogelio.  Kidlat is his patron.

When we neared his house, we saw Mang Rogelio carrying a long stalk of sugar cane.  Unassisted.

He’s a very simple man but I felt honored to be in his presence.

When I introduced myself, he held my hand for a long time.  I felt infused by his touch.  He was trying to know me by feeling my palms and listening to my voice.  I have not had that much attention for a long time that I was taken aback.

When Kidlat chose from his works that were found here and there in his house, it was evident how happy he was that someone appreciated them enough to buy them.

His contagious smile was from ear to ear when Kidlat took notice of the music instrument he made from wood and thin metal sheets.  The sound was that of a gong.

Rogelio struck the metal while another man hit the wood with a stick creating that familiar Ifugao music.  A grandmother danced like a teenager.

Like magic, a wooden box turns into a gong.  A grandmother transformed into a girl. A blind man can see.