Rizal’s Dreams Create Quintos’ Play



Dreams, say the believers, are the premonitions of the subconscious. But they need not be conveyed only in a state of stupor, as in a stage play depicting stories behind the scenes of an actual creation as Jose Rizal’s dark novel El Filibuterismo, or a blog that chronicles someone’s meanderings. Floy Quintos made much of Rizal’s dreams, which were often melancholic, frightful, even terrifying.



Take, for instance, those that dealt with death.
Interpreters say that to dream of relatives dying means misfortune awaiting any of them. To dream of one’s self dying may not exactly mean that but is an omen bad enough to worry about. Take note of the following dreams of Rizal:



· When he was on his way to Barcelona from Calamba, Laguna, he dreamt that while in Singapore, his brother Paciano had suddenly died. [i]
· Rizal also dreamt of himself almost die. While in Madrid on December 30, 1882, he dreamt that, while imitating an actor dying onstage, he felt vividly that his breath was failing and he was rapidly losing strength. Then his vision dimmed and dense darkness enveloped him – they were the pangs of death. He wanted to shout for help to Antonio Paterno, certain that he was about to die. He awoke weak and breathless. [ii]



To dream of serpents indicates a serious disease. Usually dreams of this kind result in depression for the dreamer.



· In Singapore one Saturday, Rizal dreamt that he was travelling with his sister Neneng and eventually came to a port. The place was full of vipers and snakes. On the path leading to a house, there were many hanging boas, some dead, some alive. As they walked -- Neneng ahead of Rizal, the reptiles menaced them. One angry serpent obstructed their path. Neneng walked away safely but Rizal was caught by his shirt. Defenseless, he grew weak. As the snake was about to overwhelm him, he started to imagine death in the form of loathsome rings. Pedro, the town carpenter, arrived, and dealt the snake one fatal blow. [iii]
· On July 28, 1884, from Marseilles to Manila, Rizal dreamt meeting with his father who looked more pale and thinner than usual. When he was about to embrace him, his father withdrew, pointing at the floor. Rizal saw the head of a black stag and a large snake moving to entwine him.[iv]



In the play “Isang Panaginip na El Fili,” there is a dramaturgical pattern of Rizal’s dreams. The playwright-director employs Rizal’s dreams to provide a window for viewing how Rizal could have written his novel. Quintos attempts to interpret Rizal’s dreams on stage by creating characters and reconstructing moods and objectives. He replots Rizal’s dreams as the play’s narrative thread.



In the prologue, we are quickly drawn into an unfolding plot that reveals two of Rizal’s actual dreams -- those of his parents and of his fiancée Leonor Rivera. The characters in the dreams appear to seek a stage to play out their tragedies and comedies. Rizal, in fact, had two such dreams about them:



· In Singapore one day in May, Rizal dreamt of a rather complicated journey that brought him from Pointe Galle, obviously in Europe, to his hometown in Laguna. He saw his parents who were unconcerned about his long journey. It also occurred in his dream that he needed to start his trip all over again, crossing the seas, and that he had to borrow a hundred pesos to make it in a ship’s fourth class deck. [v]
· On January 25, 1884 (four years before he started writing the Fili), Rizal had a very sad dream while in Madrid. Returning to the Philippines, his parents didn’t show up to receive him; and Leonor had been extremely unfaithful. [vi] (Leonor eventually married an Englishman.)
Interpreters claim that to dream of counting money and finding a deficit means financial woes. Rizal dreamt a similar one; in fact, in Paris where he wrote the Fili, he was in dire straits. This is narrated by Tunying, Quintos’ fictitious character.



Rizal’s dream of death is fulfilled in the play’s epilogue, just as it starts with his dreams and weaves through them.



There is another kind of dreaming that may be considered in the context of the life of the hero. Take, for instance, Isagani, who could represent the Filipino youth who dream of progress and greatness for their beloved country. Isagani articulates Rizal’s dreams about commerce and industry, social harmony and equity. Curiously, Isagani’s love interest, Paulita, dismisses them as “Dreams, nothing but dreams” – just as some of us today, more than a hundred years since Rizal’s martyrdom at the Luneta, remain unmindful of his ideals, especially of his hope for a new social order.[vii]



So does Quintos’ play remind us.


[i] Writings of Jose Rizal, Volume 1, Reminiscences by Jose Rizal, published by Jose Rizal National Centennial Commission, Manila, 1961, p. 57
[ii] Ibid., p. 63
[iii] Ibid., p. 61
[iv] Ibid., p. 143
[v] Ibid., p. 61
[vi] Ibid., p. 90
[vii] La Liga Filipina

ANNOTATION ON THE PLAY

Set in late 19th century in colonial Philippines, Ibarra of the Noli Me Tangere resurrects as Simoun in El Filibusterismo after a time gap of some 13 years. Now an “angel in reverse” -- daring, dangerous, and highly connected, Simoun summons everything within his command and influence to manipulate people and events to avenge the wrongs of the past.

The novel, as well as the play, is replete with the terms of the times, mostly Spanish. A sampling:

Indios – Indian; backward natives; uncivilized in the ways of the colonial master
Indios Bravos – brave indios; name appropriated by the group of Filipino propagandists in Europe in late 19th century
Cuidao – "Take care" or "Watch out" (from the Spanish “Cuidado”)
Alta sociedad – high society
Hermana – sister; female sponsor; lay leader of the church (shortened to “Manang”)
Punebre – dirge; funeral hymn
Filibustero – filibuster; rebel; nonconformist; one who aspires to break away from colonial rule (Blumentritt)
Espinghe – sphinx
Sacerdote – priest (Italian)
Ave Maria, Gratia plena, Dominus tecum – Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee (Latin)
Gremio – self-help organization of workers, akin to cooperative or guild
Donselya - virgin

*******

Because the play shuffles through the novel and fuses chapters, the following is intended for the contemporary audience to locate the convergence between the drama and the narrative.
Song 4, “Cuidao Kayo Dyan!” in Act 1, Scene 3, is drawn from Chapters 1 (On the Upper Deck) and 14 (In the Students’ Boarding House) of the Fili. In these two, Rizal portrays society and its various classes of people using the metaphor of the boat Tabo as well as the dormitory of the students.

Song 5, “Alpha at Omega” in Act 1, Scene 4, is derived from Chapter 7 (Simoun). Basilio, now a graduating medical student, discovers who the real Simoun is and how he is connection to the tragedy of her mother, Sisa. The scene, in a sense, is a portrayal of the whole thesis of Rizal’s novels: good versus evil and everything that these two represent in colonial Philippines; the arrogance of power and the plight of the powerless; and, ultimately, the rebellion that the system provokes in society.

Song 6, “Daing ni Tales” in Act 1, Scene 5, is a composite of Chapters 4 (Kabesang Tales), 8 (Merry Christmas) and 9 (The Pilates). In this part, the tragic characters Kabesang Tales and Huli relive the pain of their lives. Huli secures the ransom money for the freedom of her abducted father, which Hermana Penchang provides – in exchange for her own servitude.

Song 7, “Pagsubok at Pagpili” in Act 1, Scene 6, is taken from Chapter 10 (Wealth and Misery). Simoun entices Tales with his chest of wealth, knowing that the latter was in dire straits and would succumb to his ploy. The righteous Tales ignores the jewelry and instead steals the revolver of Simoun, leaving in exchange a locket that once belonged to Maria Clara. This scene offers an insight into the mind of Simoun as well as of Tales, who by now has decided to cast his lot with the armed rebels.

Song 8, “Magpapakahayop Ako” in Act 1, Scene 7, drawn from Chapter 36 (Misfortune), dramatizes the evolution of the long-suffering Kabesang Tales to the avenging Matanglawin.

Song 9, “May Bagong Katatakutan,” tells of Tales joining the rebels in the boondocks and leaving behind a message written in blood in each site of his murderous vengeance.

Song 10, “May Lakas na Hatid ang Pagmamahal Ko” in Act 1, Scene 8, reworked from Chapter 30 (Huli), portrays Huli in her ill-fated love affair with Basilio. In Song 11, “May Tiwala Ako,” Huli seeks help for jailed Basilio from Padre Camorra, as goaded by Hermana Bali.

Song 12, “Malapit Na!” in Act 1, Scene 9, summarizes the dreams of the characters in the play – Tales saving Huli, Simoun realizing his vengeful plot, Basilio loving Huli, Camorra desiring Huli, the rebels imagining freedom, Huli searching for her father, and Pepe finally finishing his novel for his mother.

Act 2, Scene 1 takes us back to Chapter 15 (Mr. Pasta) to present the character of the impoverished but intelligent Isagani whose ideal is the Academy of the Spanish Language as well as the rich Paulita Gomez. Song 1, “Ano Itong mga Panaginip?” provides a glimpse of Simoun’s secret plot.

Song 2, “Imuthis ang Ngalan Ko” in Act 2, Scenes 2 and 3, is drawn from Chapter 18 (The Deception) and takes us to the festive but enigmatic Quiapo carnival where Simoun, disguised as Mr. Leeds, has set up a trap for Padre Salvi by employing the magic of the sphinx Imuthis.

Act 2, Scene 4 is derived from Chapters 23 (The Corpse) and 26 (The Posters). Song 3, “Cuidao Kayo Dyan!” tells of the inflammatory posters found in the university. The town is abuzz with talk about students getting arrested on suspicion of rebellion and disturbing the peace. The scene also relates how Simoun succeeds in recruiting Basilio into his scheme even as word spreads fast about an impending mayhem.

Song 4, “Ano ang Kapalit?” of Act 2, Scene 5, a dramatization of Chapter 30 (Huli), exposes Padre Camorra as he covets the young, hapless woman.

Act 2, Scenes 6, 7 and 8 take us back to Chapters 23 (The Corpse) and 30 (Huli). Song 5, “Malapit Na”/ “Cuidao Kayo Dyan!” dramatizes Basilio’s rescue of Huli and Simoun’s rescue of Maria Clara. Song 6, “Sa Alalala na Lang Nagkikita,” is a retelling of the pain suffered by the two women in the hands of Padre Camorra and Padre Salvi. Song 7, “Ave!” leads Huli to commit suicide rather than fall prey to Padre Camorra. In the play’s rendition, Maria Clara is murdered by Padre Salvi. Song 8, “Patay na ang Puso Ko”/ “Sa Alaala na Lang,” shows both Basilio and Simoun disoriented. Simoun’s plan is now jeopardized, and he is losing control of the situation.

Act 2, Scene 10 is a merger of Chapters 32 (The Consequence of the Posters), 33 (The Ultimate Reason), and 35 (The Feast). As Basilio languishes in jail and the students panic, the wedding of Juanito and Paulita is set. Song 10, “Magandang Balita”/ “Lampara,” is derived from the scenes in the novel where Isagani loses Paulita and Simoun renews an opportunity to pick up the pieces of his wretched plot to still achieve his goal. But it does not happen, as Basilio turns his back against the mass murder and drives the love-struck Isagani to a feat that finally wrecks Simoun’s last desperate scheme, that is, to blow up the house where all the high and the mighty are converged in celebration of the wedding.

Reference: El Filibusterismo translation of Leon Ma. Guerrero

Rebellion Onstage



Malapit na, paglikom sa among huwad! Malapit na, pataubin lahat ng humangad! Malapit na, malapit na, malapit na!



On the 10th of September 2008, a rebellion shall commence at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theatre of the University of the Philippines. At a prearranged signal, Dulaang UP shall raise arms against a decadent social order. The upheaval brings to mind the more than 200 uprisings that took place in Philippine history, climaxing in the 1896 revolution that aroused Filipinos to heights of militancy – the reason why Dulaang UP describes this latest conspiracy as a blow against passivity.



Floy Quintos writes and directs Isang Panaginip na El Fili, an unconventional music theater rendition of Jose Rizal’s novel, under Tony Mabesa’s artistic consultancy.



But hewing closely to its source, the musical play zeroes in on the centers of authoritarian power -- church, school, and palace where corruption and oppression are spawned. The songs capture the ethos of the characters whom Rizal had created to portray his passion for a nation’s enlightenment. In Malapit Na!, for instance, Kabesang Tales, Huli, Simoun, and Basilio, as well as the multitude of the tulisanes all come alive to indict their tormentors and articulate their aspirations for self and community.



Inspired by Rizal’s dreams, Isang Panaginip na El Fili is a play within a play that weaves through the conscious and the subconscious, hoping to make us rethink our roles in world that has become very distant from the ideals of a hero’s romantic imagination.



In the cast are Franco Laurel, Joel Molina, Eric dela Cruz, Onyl Torres, Greg de Leon, Astarte Abraham, Stella Cañete, Emlyn Santos, Ces Quesada, Carlo Cannu, Meynard Peñalosa, Jacques Borlaza, Sir Anril Tiatco, Mary Jane Alejo, Marili Fernandez-Ilagan, Peter Serrano, Arkel Mendoza, JM de Guzman, Jay del Rosario, JC Santos, Shaddai Solidum, Delfine Buencamino, Mica Pineda, and the Dulaang UP ensemble. Music composition by C.J. Javier, arrangement by Jason Quitane, choral direction by Cholo Gino, choreography by Van Manalo, dramaturgy by Marili Fernandez-Ilagan, set by Tuxqs Rutaquio, lights by Luther Gumia, sound by Brian Arda, graphics by Paolo Santillan, and video by Winter David. Photos are by Jojit Lorenzo.



Performances are on September 10 to 28 at the Wilfrido Ma. Guerrero Theatre, 2nd Floor Palma Hall, University of the Philippines, Diliman, Quezon City.





For details and other inquiries, call production manager Hazel Gutierrez or stage manager Angela Trinidad at Dulaang UP Office thru9261349, 4337840, 9818500 loc 2449, 0922-8206224 or 0917-6206224. Visit http://www.upd.edu.ph/~du.

Kwintas ni Erlinda

Ni Marili Fernandez-Ilagan

(Isang Monologo ng Katutubong Kulamanon-Manobo sa Panahon ng Paninikil

Batay sa Tunay na Pangyayari, 1994, North Cotabato)

ERLINDA

(Gumagawa ng kwintas habang kumakain ng kamote. Nagkukwento sa manonood.) Galing ang mga ito sa gubat. Mga liso lang ito . . . liso. Pwedeng itanim. Buto, mga buto… (Tuloy sa tahimik na paggawa.)

Pero sa amin, ang buto ay putok, putok ng pusil, putok ng baril. (Matatakot sa maririnig na mga putok.)

(Sisigaw.) Tamonas! Tamonas!!! Tinamaan ka ba? Dali, bilis! Ikaw ang target nila. Bahay natin ang pinapaputukan ng mga sundalo. Toto, asan ka na? Kunin mo ang kapatid mo. Dali!..!

(Tumatakbo.) Doon. Doon tayo sa gubat! Ang Sinaka na lang ang kaligtasan natin… Tamonas! Toto! Bilis…!

(Muling kausap ang manonood.) Kasama ko ang aking pamilya sa Bundok Sinaka, ang asawa kong si Datu Tamonas at ang dalawa naming anak. Hinanting ng mga koboy ni Bueno si Tamonas.

Tungod sa pangayaw… Dahil sa pangayaw… Pangayaw, gyera, labanan. Ang gyera ay lumaki nang lumaki. Pati ibang tribu ay napasama na. Maraming Manobo ang namatay. Pero may mga namatay ring tagapatag, mga Kristiyano… Yung mga koboy, tagapatag rin sila.

Ilang pamilya rin kaming tumira sa gubat… Yung iba? Namakwit. Bakwit. Namakwit sa Sagundanon at Sinoda.

Matagal kaming nagtago sa Sinaka, maraming buwan. Gigutom gani mi. Kailangan naming balikan ang aming bukid sa Kabalantian.

(May binubulungang di-nakikitang mga kasama.) Didto… Didto ang daghang kamote… Damihan natin. Heto ang sako… Akina yung basket… Ang dilim… Aguy! Kasakit. Ang daming langgam… Lipat. Lipat tayo roon… Didto… Sige. Paspas… Kulang pa ang mga ‘yan… Sige, dagdag pa… Ayan, pwede na… Puno na?... O, mga malitan… dali na. May nagsindi na ng ilaw sa isang kubo. Dali… Dagan! Takbo!

(Kausap ang sarili. balik sa paggawa ng kwintas.) Hay, asa na ba ang mga liso? Gamay na lang ang mga puti. A, kini na lang… Hay, kaanindot! Gwapo…

(Kausap na ang manonood.) Nagnakaw kami ng kamote. Nagnakaw kami sa sarili naming bukid… Kami, kaming mga malitan… Malitan, mga babae, mga ina… Hindi namin matiis na nagugutom ang aming mga anak. Lumarga kaming mga malitan sa gabi. Sa gabi kami nag-aani ng kamote… Kami lang mga babae. Kasi, nasa pangayaw ang mga lalaki… Si Datu Tamonas ang lider… Sumasama rin ang ilang malitan paminsan-minsan… Pero karamihan ay naiiwan sa mga bata at naghahanap ng pagkaon.

Nakakuha rin ng pagkain ang mga lalaki. Pinatay nila ang ilang baka ni Bueno. Binigyan ng karne ang bawat pamilya… Wala na kaming makain… Dahil sa pangayaw, nasira na ang aming pamumuhay…

Naubos din ang mga baka ni Bueno. Yung ilang mga koboy ay napatay din ng aming tribu. Napilitang tumigil si Buenos sa pagrarantso… Kapalit naman ay ang buhay ng kapatid ni Tamonas, si Datu Mailan… Si Datu Mailan ang lider noon ng pangayaw. Pero ang ama nila, si Datu Umbos, ang talagang nagpasimuno.

Noon yun. Pero nung si Tamonas na ang naging lider, mas mahirap na ang sitwasyon. Kamote na lang ang madalas naming kainin.

Mahirap. Hindi na rin ako makalapit sa mga kapwa ko Ilonggo… O, Ilongga ako… Akala mo Manobo ako? Hindi. Ilongga talaga ako. Natuto na lang akong maging Manobo nung napangasawa ko si Tamonas.

Ang kapait ini… Gipusil si Tamonas sa usa ka Ilonggo. Binaril siya ng isang Ilonggo. Paramilitari daw… Hindi na namin nakilala… A, ayaw na naming kilalanin… Matagal na yun.

O, kaon na. Kanina ka pa. Patayin mo na muna yang dala mong teyp rekorder… Pasensya na, ha? Kamote lang.

(Tapos na ang ginagawang kwintas.) O, ayan. Tapos na… Sa iyo na ito. (Ilalagay sa kamay ng kausap ang kwintas, isa sa mga babaeng manonood.)

(May mga putok na maririnig.) Oya! Dalhin mo na rin itong mga kamote. May mga buto! Putok… Aang mga anak ko! Kailangan kong sabihan ang mga malitan. Kailangan kong tumulong, kumilos..! Kayo rin, tayong lahat, kailangang magkaisa, lumaban… Sige! Way hunong ang mga buto. Walang tigil ang mga putok! Sige, diha ka na. Way hunong ang mga buto!!! (Tatakbo.) ###

GLITTER AND GLAMOUR?

By Marili Fernandez-Ilagan

“Glitter and glamour” and “red satin costume” worn by a kindergarten student are all I can remember about my introduction to dancing on stage. I remember, too, my teacher Ms. Salvani’s face expressing ‘you are alright’, and my mother Gertrudes’ favorable look at me.

In those days, dancers were chosen because of their looks. Of course the premise was idiotic. I must have been chosen because of my chinky eyes and fair skin – that, (donned) with proper costume, made me look like a Japanese girl. I carried the dance in my mind, and (incidentally) visualized what a Japanese girl would appear on stage. I can still imagine the joy on my mother’s and teacher’s face while they clapped. But deep inside me, I felt very queer. It was only much later in my teens that I realized that my dance steps and music were Japanese but my costume was Chinese!

The following years seemed wonderful – (to get) invitations to dance here and there, in parties or in school programs, including for a fiesta of my mother’s barrio. My sister and I would rehearse using our grandmother Ester’s LP record to do ballet. Why ballet? Because the audience liked it, and we loved doing the splits. In ballet, we felt we were angels coming directly from heaven.

Everything above happened about thirty years ago. From foreign and classical dances, I graduated to modern dancing. I enrolled in a jazz dance class and even danced regularly for our school choir. But I only promptly abandoned those kind of dancing when I was invited to join a folk dance troupe under a Bayanihan alumnus. I left dancing Japanese but I realized in my troupe stint I was dancing for the Japanese!

I stopped thinking of dance seriously since then, and only went back to it when I started cultural work (the sort of thing theatre artists do – not only performing but give and take skills training, organize cultural events, and conduct cultural researches). I traveled around Mindanao doing the cultural work, and in the process learned from my interaction and immersion with virtuoso indigenous dancers. It was not a formal learning. It was a discovery. I grew up between four walls, going to school, going to cultural centers. I didn’t go out or see the real life that those virtuoso indigenous dancers live. Their earthy presence – no glamorous persona – impressively caught my attention. They are fantastic – and beautiful.

In one of my visits in a T’boli festival in the hills of South Cotabato, I couldn’t take my eyes off an old lady chanting while dancing and playing a two-stringed lute. She was very expressive, very imaginative, and had a wonderful “stage” presence. The musical instrument she was playing with complimented her performance: a cool strong voice, a facile technique, and a strong rapport with the audience. Everybody really listened and watched when she performed. She had a special atmosphere about her, something extra that impressed the audience very much. I was taken with her.

Another memorable destination was in one of the B’laan villages in Sultan Kudarat. There was a general atmosphere that afternoon of leisure and cheery comradeship. It impressed me greatly… I looked at the packed clearing, at the girls and a number of boys in their teens. Such bright, happy girls, full of strong life and joyous optimism. Such gorgeous girls garbed in colorful hand-woven tube-like cloths and beaded, embroidered tops. I wondered what they were doing. Then I heard string instruments and skins being played, and a bunch of women shouting with glee and the girls dancing lithely with their cloths. The jovial entertainment just simply started and it was fascinating. The audience naturally just joined in – the children miming fishing in dance form, and the elders chanting. The whole effect was thrilling. It was spontaneous.

Another trip brought me to a rice field of the Subanon in Zamboanga where the women were preparing for the harvest. Some of them gladly shared dancing with their hankies, a dance similar to the Okinawa folk. Then I remember an alternative tour in one of the ancestral houses of the Maranao in Lanao del Sur. There a young girl chanting words I didn’t know what on earth they meant welcomed us (theatre artists). But with her fan covering her mouth, her hand moving gracefully, and her eyelashes opening and closing every now and then, I sensed a hidden beauty, waiting to be unfolded. To me, It was like seeing a young virtuoso for the first time – putting me in a place where I was able to grasp myself that performing arts among the indigenous is not one discipline alone but goes with others (e.g. dancing while chanting or playing instruments).

My exposure to these virtuosos and others I had not mentioned (including my performing colleagues Eden and Richard) left me gasping with enthusiasm. It was illuminating. I didn’t know what they were all about but they were the most thrilling things I have ever seen. And that was exactly how I was affected. And that was exactly how I was convinced why my director Nestor wanted to use dance in our theatre productions.

Since then, I have always used dance with impressive and remunerative results in the experimental theatre. Empowering. Maybe high brow or brow raising for some. I recall a recent production that from beginning to end reminded me of those virtuosos who influenced me to use their methods, considered daring, unconventional and in the same breath sane.

It still is a struggle in Manila, where I find myself now. Skilled dancers are everywhere but rehearsals with them sometimes drag because there is something missing. Conviction is missing. Soul is missing. I believe the practice of craft depend on considerations involving in the fact that an artist, a dancer, must look into the context of the virtuosos, the masters. Deliberate abandonment of their context affects the performance. Glitter and glamour are not all.

SANLIBONGAN (Santuwaryo)

Naunang itinanghal bilang “Ugpaanan”

Ito ay 45 minutong produksyon ukol sa kalagayan at hinaing ng kababaihang Lumad (katutubo) sa pamamagitan ng monologo, awit, musika at sayaw. Ang pagtatanghal ay testamento ng nagpapatuloy nilang pakikibaka na pangkaraniwan nang nalilimutan ng lipunan.

Kirot. Lungkot. Galit. Pagkilos. Ang “Sanlibongan (Santuwaryo)” ay pagsilip sa mga kuwento ng tatlong babae mula sa mga tribong Bagobo, Mandaya at Manobo ng Mindanao -- isang batang nawawala, isang nanay na may dugong katutubo at dayo, at isang matandang babaylan. Nagkita sila sa gubat na nag-uugnay sa Dabaw at Cotabato.

Ipinagdadalamhati ng tatlo ang sinapit ng mayamang lupaing kaloob sa kanila ng Maykapal. Hindi sila magkakakilala. Natagpuan nila ang isa’t isa nang sila’y ipagtabuyan mula sa kanilang pinagmulan. Ang mga salarin ay ang dambuhalang magtotroso, rantsero at militar ng gobyerno. Mapait ang salaysay ng tatlo. Gayunman, nabuo sa kanilang pagkikita ang tiwala sa isa’t isa, at ito’y inihudyat ng masiglang sayaw ng tatlo sa bandang huli. Ang sayaw ay nagpapakita ng lakas at tapang na luwal ng kanilang pagkakaisa. Handa sila upang harapin ang kinabukasan ng kanilang lipi.

Ang “Sanlibongan” ay kakatwa, malungkot at totoo.

Taong 1994 nang likhain ng tatlong kasaping babae ng Kaliwat Theater Collective, Inc. ang “Ugpaanan.” Malakas ang mensahe at malalim ang impresyong nabuo ng mga kuwento ng mga katutubong babae kina Eden Espejo, Marili Fernandez at Theresa Opaon. Silang tatlo ay lubog sa mga kulturang katutubo ng Mindanao – sa Agusan, Cotabato, Davao, Lanao, Zamboanga. Si Eden noon ang training head ng cultural action project ng Kaliwat sa Arakan Valley. Si Marili ang research head. At si Theresa naman ang production manager.

Sinulat ni Marili ang storyline at sequence treatment para sa isang cultural event ng kababaihan na tinawag na “Ova,” isang trilohiya ng mga pagtatanghal pangkababaihan, na inilunsad ng Kaliwat at Woven (Women’s Venue, isang grupo ng kababaihang artistang nasa nongovernment organizations).

Ang kuwento ng batang nawawala ay halaw sa itinanghal ni Marili sa Davao City para sa Davao Association for Populur Aesthetics and Traditions at Nationalist Alliance for Justice and Democracy at sa Australia sa direksyon ni Nestor Horfilla.

Sa loob ng ilang araw, pinagtulungan nina Marili at Theresa ang pagbubuo ng “Ugpaanan.” Una itong itinanghal sa Davao City, sa direksyon ni Eden. Gumanap sina Ligaya Arellano (aktor at mananayaw), Boots Dumlao (direktor ng Kathara Dance Theater) at Theresa.

Taong 2003 nang ipalabas ito bilang isa sa mga dula ng “Ang Babae sa Ating Panahon” noong February Arts Month sa Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP). Produksyon ito ng Concerned Artists of the Philippines (CAP) sa pakikipagtulungan ng Tunay na Alyansa ng Bayan Alay sa Katutubo, CCP at National Commission for Culture and the Arts, sa direksyon ni Marili.

Ang nagpalitang gumanap bilang bata ay sina Cora Gormin (isang Mangyan na miyembro ng grupong pangkultura sa Mindoro) at Dessa Rizalina Ilagan (may dugong Mandaya na nag-umpisa nang magtanghal tatlong taon pa lamang). Ginampanan nina Jacqueline Co (isang lolang mahilig sumayaw) at Malu Repuno (dating community theater artist at human rights worker) ang papel ng babaylan. Ang papel naman ng nanay ay inako ni Tess Liongson (mang-aawit ng Sining Lila). Nagdaos sila ng mga pag-aaral, workout rehearsals at exposure trips bilang paghahanda sa epektibong pagganap ng kani-kanilang papel.

Sa unang pagtatanghal sa Mindanao, purong Bisaya ang mga linya. Ngunit sa pagtatanghal sa Kamaynilaan, gumamit si Marili ng tatlo pang lengguwahe – Ilocano, Mandaya at Manobo. Kinailangang mag-aral ang mga aktor ng mga ito.

Simple lang ang set design – isang major piece of furniture, malaking daybed na lilok sa antigong traviesa ng kilalang iskultor na si Rey Contreras. Dinagdagan ito ng mga tuyong sanga at dahon. Nagtayo din ng tradisyonal na bahay ng katutubo –isang tree house -- kaya may mga eksenang kailangang tumingala ang manonood. Ang mga upuan naman ng mga manonood sa harapan (parang kasama na rin sa set) ay mga troso.

Simple din ang epektibong pag-iilaw ni Ed Manalo. Ginamitan niya ng ilang moonlight effects at forest shadows ang iba’t ibang oras ng isang araw.

May iminungkahi rin ang mandudulang si Bonifacio Ilagan, isang epilogo para sa mas malinaw na pagkilos ng tatlong babae – ang paghahanap ng nanay sa baril ng kanyang kapatid, na nagpapahiwatig ng paghahanap ng katarungan o pagsali sa kilusang armado, depende sa interpretasyon ng manonood, at ang pagsang-ayon ng babaylan at bata sa ganoong hakbang.

Marso 8, dinala ng Kabataan para sa Tribung Pilipino ang “Sanlibongan” sa Betyawan, Subic, Zambales. Nanood ang may 150 Aeta at 50 iba pa mula sa tatlong sityo ng barangay; at mga 150 estudyanteng exposurists mula sa University of the Philippines-Manila, Polytechnic University of the Philippines, De La Salle University, St. Benilde at Adamson University. Ang pinagtanghalan ay isang open space sa isang bangin, na may mga punong nagsilbing set.

Sa imbitasyon naman ng Kalipunan ng mga Katutubong Mamamayan, at bilang suporta sa Minority Rights Group International, ang “Sanlibongan” ay itinanghal sa Titus Brandsma Center sa New Manila, Quezon City, Marso 1. May 100 ang nanood – mga katutubong lider, manggawang pangkultura, kawani ng gobyerno, academics, mga dayuhang tagasuporta ng kilusan ng mga katutubong mamamayan, at development workers.

Noong Abril 24, ang produksyon ay dinala sa Lameg , Quirino, Ilocos Sur para sa Cordillera Day. Umabot sa 3,000 ang nanood – mga katutubo ng Northern Luzon at Mindanao; at mga delegado mula sa iba’t ibang bansa ng Asia-Pacific, Europe at US. Sa araw ding ito, sa UP Diliman naman, nagtanghal ang alternates, sa imbitasyon ng Congress of Teachers for Nationalism and Democracy at First Quarter Storm Movement. Ang okasyon ng pagtatanghal ay isang porum sa kapayapaan ng National Democratic Front of the Philippines. Ang nanood ay mga estudyante (aktibista at di-aktibista) at academics.

Sa kabuuan, apat na rehiyon na ang pinagtanghalan ng “Ugpaanan/ Sanlibongan.” Halo-halo ang manonood – urban at rural, iba’t ibang sektor. Ang urban ay 2/3, ang katutubo ay 1/3. Laging may talakayan matapos ang palabas. Maraming hiling para sa pagpapalabas sa iba’t ibang lugar, sa mga kolehiyo, unibersidad at komunidad ng mga katutubo. May mga humiling din ng workshops at tulong sa produksyon para sa kani-kanilang grupo.

Pinatotohanan ng mga katutubong manonood ang buod ng dula. Ayon sa mga lider ng Aeta, ang ipinakita ng dula ay mga tunay na pangyayari. Sinabi ng isang babaeng datu ng tribung Manobo na may karapatan ang mga aktor na gumamit ng mga katutubong kasuotan. May ilang theater artists at katutubo ring nagtanong kung ang mga aktor ba ay taga-Mindanao.

Dahil ang produksyon ay isang advocacy work, laging may information materials o flyers na ipinamamahagi tuwing palabas. Hindi lamang playbill o souvenir program ang mga iyon. Sadyang isinama ang kalagayan ng mga katutubo at kababaihan sa materyales na ipinamigay.

Marami ang nagpahayag na namulat sila tungkol sa kalagayan ng mga katutubo nang napanood nila ang “Sanlibongan.” Marami rin ang naging interesado sa teatro bilang isang porma ng advocacy.

Ipinaabot ng aktibistang kababaihan ang galak sa pagpapahayag ng mga isyu ng kababaihan sa produksyon.

Kapuna-puna naman na ang ganitong produksyon ay mas nagugustuhan ng mga nasa rural kaysa urban. Maaari kayang dahil ang ganitong sining ay natabunan na ng maraming mapamimilian sa syudad?

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“SANLIBONGAN (Sanctuary)”

By Marili Fernandez and Theresa Opaon

(In one corner, Felisa hums a lullaby while folding clothes and diapers. She talks to her husband. She expects to give birth any time.)

FELISA: Pumunta nga pala ako kina Piyaw kahapon. Limabasak idiayen (Dumaan na ako roon) mula sa bayan dahil kailangan na ng bateri nitong aking transistor… Hirap na kung hindi ko masusundan ang kwento ni Delia Salvador. Matektekanakon nga maammoan no ania iti napasamak iti daydiay kabalyona nga tinakaw ti mangmangkik nga dayta… (Sabik na akong malaman kung ano’ng nangyari sa kanyang kabayong ninakaw ng mga halimaw na ‘yan…) Alam mo namang ito lang ang napaglilibangan ko maliban sa pagbuburda. Kung lagi ka lang sanang narito, di… Hmmp! Ang aga-aga pa… Ituloymon dayta obram… (Ituloy mo na nga ‘yang ginagawa mo…) Ay, oo nga pala. Daytoy, immpabulod ni Piyaw kaniak dagitoy bado ken lampin ti ubbing… (Heto, pinahiram ni Piyaw sa akin ‘tong mga damit at lampin ng bata…) Malaki na talaga’ng naitulong ng kapatid ko sa atin mula nang napangasawa niya si Albert Tan. May tindahan sa bayan. Haaay. Gusto nga niyang tumira na si Udo sa kanya ngunit ewan ko ba riyan sa taong ‘yan… Aalis ka na? (Pauses from business.) Ket kaanoka nga agsubli? (At kelan ka naman makakabalik?) Kelan ba kita makikitang muli? Baka manganganak ako nang wala ka!… Sus, Merto, kailan kaya tayo mabubuhay nang tahimik?… Ala, ingka ngaruden. (Sige, umalis ka na.) Ingat. (Follows Merto with her gaze; then she fixes her radio) Ayaan… Agalluadka ita nga rabii. (Humanda ka ngayong gabi.) Testing nga… (Listens to a drama program with bombing sound effects)

(As bombing occurs, lights fade in on another corner and the sound of bombing becomes louder. Igay, her arms covered with tattoos, hides herself and looks out if she’s left alone.)

IGAY: Ama… (Sees her father’s knife.) Ama… (Tries to cross to get her mother’s bracelet.) Ina… (Slowly fades in sounds of airplane coming. She runs in fear as the lights fade out. She come s back running, looking for a refuge.)

(Back to Felisa, she listens to her brother.) Ano? Binigyan ka nila ng baril?… Di ba sinabi ko sa iyong huwag kang sumali sa CAFGU-CAFGU dahil gagawin lang kayong tagabantay ng rantso sa unahan? Nakakatakot!… Ba’t ba ayaw mo akong paniwalaan? Oo, nagtatago sila para sa kanilang kaligtasan… Security guard o CAFGU, pareho lang sila. (Looks up and finds that her brother is no longer there.) Udo! Udo! (Runs afer him!) Ibalik mo ang baril. Ibalik mo! (Pauses and feels the labor pain.) Aray! Ang sakit… Udo…

(Felisa, carrying her baby and transistor radio, enters, looking for her brother.)

FELISA: Udo! Udo! Sus, Ginoo! Nasaan na kaya ang aking kapatid? (Notices the young girl, approaches her, then sits on a rock.) Magandang hapon! Be, may dumaan bang taong may dalang baril dito? Nakababatang kapatid ko yon. Kailangang maibalik niya ang baril na hindi kanya dahil… (About to nurse her baby but…) Inday! Aduy! Sapay aggurigorka? (Bakit nagbabaga ka sa init?) (Hysterically approaches the young girl.) Be! Be, ang aking anak!

(Runs in panic.)

FELISA: Tulong! Ang aking anak… Tabaaang! Doktor…

(As Felisa runs away then enters again, weary and beaten from her long search.)

(All throughout, Igay watches.)

FELISA: Udo! Udo! (Switches on her radio. Listens for a while then remembers the young girl and calls on her.) Be! Be! (Tries to look for Igay but can’t find her.)

FELISA: (Stares at nothing. Then slowly, she tells her story.) Isinublik dadiay anakkon idiay balayen. (Ibinalik ko sa bahay ang aking anak.) Naalala ko’ng gamot na ibinigay ng health center noong isang taon. Dinikdik ko’t tinunaw para mainom ng aking anak. Maya-maya, bigla siyang nanginig. Bumaliktad ang kanyang mga mata, puti na lang ang nakikita. Nataranta ako. Pinunasan ko siya ng mainit na tubig, hinaplusan ng damo. Agkanta iti pampaturog. (Inawitan ng oyayi.) (Sings a lullabye) Tapos nakatulog siya. Nakatulog din ako. Umaga na nang magising ako. Malamig, niyakap ko ang aking anak. Ngunit…kasinglamig na rin siya ng hangin. Pagkatapos ng libing, may nakapagsabi sa aking binawian ng mga rebelde si Udo ng baril. Lumaban siya kaya… pinatay daw siya ng mga bagani. At ngayon may nakapagsabi rin na ibinalita raw sa radyo ang pagkadakip ng mga sundalo sa aking asawa. Hah! Hindi nila madadakip ang aking asawa. Limang taon na siyang nagtatago mula nang gustong agawin nila ang aming lupa para gawing rantso. Ano? Naloloko ba sila? Saan kami magtatanim kung ibibigay namin? Kaya pinagbintangan nila ang aking asawang nagnakaw ng kanilang baka para maging wanted. (Laughs bitterly.) Hahaha! Ngunit ngayon, kalbo na ang bundok Sinaka. (Remembers the news, switches on the radio.) Naku, ano na kayang balita?

(Igay suddenly comes out from where she has been hiding and cries.)

IGAY: Aaayyyay kow di!

(Felisa is shocked as she hears Igay’s cry. Igay starts humming and singing part of a song she learned from her mother, then starts telling her story.)

Warad nasama (Nothing is left)

Napuilon kas tapoy na balaan upban to kaubad-dan (The once-sacred home of our race burned to ashes)

Layon tag karinag (This pain)

Binabalan tu tarabusaw (Brought by the evil force BUSAW)

Maanit na kag pamihis (Will soon worsen)

OWEY!

Warad nasama (Nothing is left)

Gawas tad-do mga apos to kayo uway kabayan (Saved for singed wood and stilled houses)

Layon tag karinag (This evil pain)

AYOKOYOOY!

Naalala ko noon… Narinig ko si ama at ina. Bibilhin daw ang aming lupa upang gawing kalsada para sa minahan. Hindi pumayag si ama. Isang araw pagkatapos ng ani, may dumating na mga tao. May baril. Napakarami nila, halos hindi mabilang ng mga daliri ng aking mga kamay at paa. Hinahanap nila, mga rebelde. Sabi ni ama, walang rebelde rito. Ngunit, sabi nila, rebelde raw kami. Kinuha nila ang aming mga hayop. Tapos, sinunog nila ang aming mga bahay. Nagkagulo kami… Nahuli ako ng isa sa mga sundalo. Hinubaran, sinunog ang aking likod ng sigarilyo. Tapos, hinila niya ang aking paa at tinitigan ako nang husto. Yung titig na parang hayup. Pero bigla siyang tinaga ni ina. Tapos, pinatakbo ako ni ina. Tumakbo ako nang tumakbo. Kinabukasan, bumalik ako. Nakita ko sila… ama at ina…. Ayyaya kow!

(Moved by the girl’s passion, Felisa hugs Igay and joins her cry with a chant. The cry and chant continue as Felisa adds a part of her own story.)

Felisa: Ang ama ko, datu. Noong bata pa ako, may dumating ding ilang mga taong may dalang baril sa amin. (Gusto nilang papirmahin si ama sa dala nilang papel ngunit hindi siya pumirma.) Dinala nila si ama. Mula noon hindi na namin siya nakita pa. (Ang nakita namin ay parang mga malalaking bahay na tumatakbo.) Yun ang mga buldoser. Binuldoser nila ang aming lupa. (Hiniwa nila ang aming lupa at nagtayo sila ng dam.) Wala na kaming nagawa kundi umurong dito sa natitirang gubat. Mula rito saan pa kami tutungo?

(Felisa takes the drum and plays a slow beat until it becomes defeaning. Igay feels a healing process by the sound of the drum, and begins to chant and dance with her hankies. Noticing Igay’s reaction, Felisa gives her the drum and Igay dances with it. Felisa takes the hankies. Glowing with so much passion and trust, discovering each other’s strength, the two draw their power from one another. Wanting to defend their tribes to the end, the moment comes for these women to unite in a singular intent: Continue their people’s struggle!

Gently, night gives way to dawn.)

END

Si Theresa Opaon ay isang manggagawang pangkultura mula sa Educational Discipline for Culture and the Arts ng Agusan. Naging miyembro siya ng Kaliwat at MCTN. Kasama sa kanyang mayamang karanasan ang pagtatanghal at pagbibigay ng workshop sa ibang bansa. Nakabase na siya sa US at aktibo sa gawaing pangkultura at pangkababaihan sa hanay ng mga Pilipino sa US.

Tales of Women

Published from Herword.com

By Mary Anne S. Plaza

"Ang Babae sa Ating Panahon" highlights the displacement of women in society caused by globalization and the general avarice of people in power

The theatrical play Ang Babae sa Ating Panahon that was staged in the Huseng Batute was nothing but ordinary, for the setting was unusual in itself. Since the venue can particularly house a certain number of people, there was a distinct feeling of intimacy between the audience and the artists.

Judging from the stage props of dried leaves, tree trunks, wooden chairs and tribal percussions, the theme of the performance was unmistakably of ethnic origin. From the moment the lights dimmed and the actors made their way to the stage, I knew I wasn't the only one intrigued.

Ang Babae sa Ating Panahon consisted of two plays, the Sanlibongan (Sanctuary) and Pagbati (Pangs of Childbirth). Each performance spoke of the circumstances and the situation of women in indigenous tribes as well as the "babae sa masa" (women in the masses). The production tackled the displacement of women in society brought about by globalization and the general avarice of people in power.

The story of Sanlibongan centered on the personal stories of three women -- a 14 year old Manobo girl, a lowlander assimilated by the indigenous community and middle-aged Bagobo mother and an old Mandaya shaman. As their stories began to unfold, I could not help notice the way the audience seems to hold its breath in anticipation of each scene.

Sanlibongan pointed out the cruelty civilization imposes on the women. With their families and belongings turned apart by avaricious bourgeoisie and capitalists, women are dislocated from their natural space and being.

At one point, the three women mourn the plight of their people who have lost their right to their lands. The story brought together these characters who forged a climax of unity in the form of a powerful tribal dance.

What made the play so convincing (aside from the thespians' acting prowess) was the costume design and the use of authentic ethnic pieces such as musical instruments and ornamental pieces.

Pagbati

In Pagbati, snippets of songs, indigenous dances, monologues and poetry presented the experiences of women in Mindanao concerning the mythical and contemporary realities of childbirth.

"The poems and songs, which are contemporary, should be sung by actors in neutral wardrobe. They are not part of the action and not sung by the characters in the scenes before them, it is essential that the actors be not in character when they sing the songs and recite the poems," the production's writer and director noted.

Giving birth was portrayed through song, dance and monologue. This brought the experience to the audience who saw the impact of such process to the woman's body and her social consciousness.

For accuracy, Pagbati's script and sequencing were derived from the actresses' personal communion with the people from whom the story was adapted.

The attention of the audience was maintained throughout the performance as the actresses reached out to their audience, looked into their faces and even asked men questions about womanhood.

At the end of the production, an open forum was held to further discuss the issues tackled in the two performances.

Ang Babae sa Ating Panahon was such an enriching experience for me. As I stepped out of the theatre that day, a different light was shown to a picture that has long been overlooked.

March 25, 2003

Cultural liberty under spotlight at Women Playwrights

Published in Jakarta Post

Features - December 03, 2006

Carla Bianpoen, Contributor, Jakarta

Hundreds of women's hands rose toward the sky in trembling motion, and their voices in a dramatic roar of "cak-cak-cak...cak-cak", resounded in the tropical night of Bali.

Evoking the feeling of great strength and intent, the performance of the Cak by women playwrights, allied theater artists, culture workers and scholars from 23 countries around the globe, gave voice to the sentiments that had prevailed during the five-day conference of Women Playwrights (Nov. 19 to 26) in Jakarta and Bali; it was of compelling unity in great mutual respect and of poise and determination.

Some may have been surprised to see the Cak performed by women, as this form of music where performers chant the word cak in interlocking rhythms while moving the body in powerful dynamic and stirring unison is the traditional preserve of men. Well, Bali artist and jewelry designer Desak Nyoman Suarti changed that. In 2001 she set up the Luh Luwih Foundation for women's creative development and formed a women's cak troupe.

The Women's Playwright International (WPI) Conference, the seventh since its inception in 1988 in Buffalo, was organized by the Jakarta Arts Council, supported by the Jakarta city administration and the Culture and Tourism Ministry in Indonesia. The event drew 186 participants from around the globe, including 112 from 33 cities in 25 provinces of Indonesia. The convener was Ratna Sarumpaet.

Held every three years, WPI is dedicated to facilitating communication and interchanges and furthering the work of women playwrights around the world, WPI is also intent on bringing international recognition to their works.

But the Jakarta conference, which discussed cultural liberty as essential for women playwrights revealed that for their mission to succeed, they must also deal with peculiar situations in countries where creativity is repressed by grave violence against women and religious radicalism or an oppressive state regime. Censorship by the authorities or veiled censorship through coercion using politics, financing and religious restrictions are realities that need to be dealt with.

The keynote address by the renowned feminist and novelist Nawal El Saadawi pointed out that writing required creativity, to be creative often implies being a dissident. "When we live in a world that is very unjust, you have to be a dissident," she said. "In order to be creative, whether writing plays, novels, short stories or science, we have to be a dissident," she insisted.

The status of women worldwide may appear to be advancing, but statistics tell another story. Rampant violence against women is still a fact of life in many countries of the world. Even in Australia, the research for the 2006 submission by Australia to the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination shows that human rights for women are going backwards in Australia. The report documents institutional failures across seven key areas: health, education, work, housing, violence, law and leadership. In the Philippines, extrajudicial killings are on the increase. The same could be said of situations in other countries.

So is this something that should engage women in theater?

Julie Holledge, a senior member of WPI, in her address linking theater to human rights, power and freedom, asked the question: What can the women theater artists do to assist the billions of women, the faces behind the statistics, in their struggle for human rights? She refers to women in theater as being connected to a strong and proud tradition of art for social justice, citing how theater practitioners in Britain at the beginning of the last century, joined hands with women activists to take on the power of the state during periods of intense militarization, and succeeding in obtaining the right to vote.

Major themes included (1) Identity, Community and the Role of Diversity; (2) Language, Culture and Structure; (3) Dramatic Performance Text, Cultural Context and Intertextual Practices; (4) Stage, State and Ideology; and (5) Freedom, Human Rights and Power.

Drama sessions and performances from various countries gave a good view particularly of the similarities in issues faced by women playwrights worldwide, though skills in writing and performing may differ. Interestingly, a major focus for playwrights from Southeast Asia, and Indonesia in particular, was injustice, violence against humanity -- of which women are often the victims.

Highlights of drama sessions and performances included, but were not limited to -- the excellent short performance by Vietnamese Ngok M. Nguyen, the Island Vignettes written and played by Filipino Marili Fernandez-Ilagan and Dessa Quesada, Erika Batdor's compelling movements in Poetic License, Ratna Sarumpaet's courageous mockery in The Prostitute and the President, the esthetic stylized presentation of the Stone Crushers directed by Citra Devi from Palu/Central Sulawesi, and Tya Setiawati from Padang's radical visualization of women's struggle in The Female Earth. All actors, including Tyia had shorn their hair off. Standing out for its empowering values is Gerhana-Gerhana, written by Lena Simanjuntak for ex-prostitutes to bring on stage. It was an impressive undertaking, where victims turned to regain their self respect as successful actors on stage. Lena resides in Germany, but spends at least two months a year in Indonesia to work on rehabilitating women victims of drugs, trafficking and natural disasters.

The conference thanked the Indonesian government for its support and urged that it ensure cultural liberty in Indonesia today and in the future. As the conference proceeded to request official status with the United Nations, it will be interesting to see how their strategies as a global network evolve in the course of time.

Pagbati "Stages the Ethnic Gendered Body"

Woman and the changing world on alternative global stage: sixth Women Playwrights International conference: Manila, 14-20 November 2003.

Source: Asian Theatre Journal

Publication Date: 22-SEP-05

Author: Burns, Lucy Mae San Pablo

COPYRIGHT 2005 University of Hawaii Press This review focuses on the sixth Women Playwrights International (WPI) conference and festival, held in Manila, Philippines, in November 2003. Through a discussion of how the WPI festival both interrogates and stages a mainstream international festival, the review explores alternative global theater and its relationship to questions of gender and geopolitics. The article focuses on examples from the work of artists of Asian ethnicity or descent that were featured in the conference. Lucy Burns was a UC President's Postdoctoral Fellow in the History of Consciousness Department at the University of California-Santa Cruz. She teaches at UCLA's Departments of Asian American Studies and World Arts and Culture. Burns is a dramaturge interested in community-based theater projects, and her research interests include Asian American performance, feminist and postcolonial theories, and Filipino Studies. She is currently working on a manuscript on the Pilipino performing body. ********** The Women Playwrights International (WPI) held its sixth conference, "Women Making Theatre in a Changing World," in Manila, Philippines, 14-20 November 2003. Two hundred delegates from all over the world attended the gathering. The mood of the festival was celebratory. Thai playwright Kulthida Maneerat commented that the festival felt "more like a reunion of old friends." Women Playwrights International has existed since 1986. Every three years, the conference/ festival is held "to further the work of women playwrights around the world by promoting their works, encouraging and assisting development of their work, and bringing international recognition to their work" (http://web.mit.edu/mta/iwp/). The WPI event provides a site for global arts exchange between women playwrights and offers an alternative to most international festivals where the works of women playwrights, feminist themes, and feminist aesthetics are often marginalized. Through a gender-based, transnationalist focus, WPI continually seeks to record and to create change. Given the centrality of Asia at the conference, this article focuses on the works of Asian artists. The conference theme of women in a changing world highlights some thematic concerns of contemporary women's drama: calls for liberation, rising terrorism, shifting and contested national boundaries, and the formation and dissolution of states. In her address, playwright/ director Dijana Milosevic, for example, raised a quandary about how to identify her "country" of origin: Yugoslavia? Serbia? Montenegro? The country formerly known as Yugoslavia? Names of countries may change but the stories told on stage by artists such as Milosevic remember and embody the afterlife of war. Her theater project Art Saves Lives, which has taken the form of a festival since 1993, creates a network for artists exploring the role of art in sustaining and recreating life after the ruins of war and corruption. Her work with this project and her theater laboratory, Dah (Breath) Theatre, shows the continuation of life in war-torn states when U.S. aid has left and corporate media have moved on to another sensationalized war story. The crisis of contested territories, of a "changing world," forces and inspires theater artists such as Milosevic to rethink compositions that are constituted around the model of "nations" and the fixity of gender norms. Simply raising questions and stating the fragmented nature of nation-states or gender construction will no longer suffice. While I discuss some of the individual performances presented and plays read, I wish to highlight some of the larger issues the event posed about the place of non-Euro-American work in the canon of contemporary women's performance, and the significance of site, programming, language, and ethnic explorations in structuring the event. To understand the organizational transformation the WPI attempted by meeting in Asia and the predominance of works by Asian artists in the festival programming, I need to briefly consider the genealogy of international festivals and the ways the WPI festival simultaneously questioned and replicated normative festival structures. Internationalizing the Festival Today directors and producers continually search for innovative programming and think through the changing function of international performance sites. Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett's chapter "Confusing Pleasures" in Destination Culture offers an insightful critique of the 1990 Los Angeles Festival of Arts. She questions its avant-garde thrust in presenting "performance forms from other social and cultural worlds, as if they had emanated from the avant-garde itself" (1998: 205). In another example, Nicholas Ridout, a scholar of contemporary European theatre, optimistically commends the London International Festival of Theater (LIFT) decision in 2001 to reexamine the notion of festivals as a unique construction to generate "engagements that ordinary discourse and everyday encounters do not permit" (Ridout 2003: 109). His re.ections on LIFT's "rethinking of their own practice as festival makers, and ... the role of both theatre and festival in the lives of London citizens," contemplates the "festivalization of everyday life" (108-109). The latest WPI conference provides an occasion to further engage with the "rethinking" of the international performance festivals, both in terms of an ethnically diverse programming of performances and creating a truly international community. WPI's genderspecific focus, as an alternative to grander events such as the Los Angeles Festival of the Arts and LIFT, is arguably already a rethinking of such projects. Through a critical analysis of the structure and theme of this unique women's theater festival, I raise observations on emblematic shifts in contemporary global theater. Mise-En-Scene: Third World Megalopolis The 2003 conference/festival marked a historic moment for this nearly twenty-year-old international organization for women playwrights. It was the first time a WPI-hosted festival was held in a non-Western country. There has been a great desire within the WPI organization for an increased participation by playwrights from Asia, Latin America, and Africa. Previous festivals have been held in Buffalo (1988), Toronto (1991), Adelaide (1994), Galway (1997), and Athens (2000). The decision to hold the festival in the Philippines was part of a series of efforts to diversify WPI constituency. The events were held at the Shangri-La Hotel, the Cultural Center of the Philippines (CCP), and the Philippine International Convention Center (PICC), in proximity to the bay and the nightlife of Malate. In her address, Filipino American performance artist and writer Jessica Hagedorn remembered this area of the megacity as her childhood neighborhood and shared the infamous story of the "haunted" Manila Film Center across the street from where the delegates were staying. A tragic accident occurred in the process of building the Film Center. Then former first lady Imelda Marcos, in her frenzy to satisfy her "edifice complex," had ordered construction to continue on the Film Center building without stopping to recover the bodies of workers who were killed in the accident. Today the building, which marks their concrete sepulchre, is a haunting reminder of the Marcos period. The setting of conference in its shadow was thus clearly strategic. Manila has a nimiety of visual, aural, and other stimulation of a third world city, against which a megalopolis such as New York City appears almost suburban. Hagedorn's award-winning novel-turned-play, Dogeaters, captured much of this third world city excess. Her combination of flair and matter-of-fact resists the third world as alien and embodies the creative and performative possibilities of nostalgia. The CCP and the PICC are state-of-the-art facilities that have a well-developed local audience. The festival drew many luminaries of Philippine theater and culturati, such as the award-winning writer Virginia Moreno, who has been active since the 1950s, and the superstar actress Nora Aunor. Speaker Ellen Stewart, the founder of La Mama ETC, the legendary experimental theater in New York City, recalled fondly her relationship to the Philippine theater movement. Cecilia Guidote, the founder of the Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA), who presented a performance at WPI conference by disabled youth, forged this connection. In the early 1970s Guidote directed a number of productions, including Sandigan-Kalinangan and Tausug Variations (June 1974), Sayaw Silangan (Dance of the East, March 1975), Third World Liturgy (January 1979), and Ang Tatay mong Kalbo (Your bald father, July 1979). In 1980, La Mama ETC produced Guidote's Diwang Lahi. Manila, as the first non-Western site for the WPI conference, "eased in" the organization to the so-called "third world." It has all the amenities of the first world, especially within the parameters where the conference was held. Many locals can communicate easily in English, a lingering legacy of being an American colony, and a result of an aggressive contemporary movement to standardize English as the language of commerce in the Philippines. Yet, the burden of Manila being the only major urban center in the Philippines is evident. Sex workers, panhandlers, and people of all ages living off of the streets are reminders of uneven development in our changing world. Unlike the first world, where evidence of inequality are segregated, covered up, and highly regulated to avoid contact with tourists, sex workers, panhandlers, and others who live on and off of the streets are perhaps the principal actors in the daily drama of Manila. Staging international festivals in a place such as Manila makes it difficult to ignore the larger setting against which it is enacted. Challenges of International Festivals The WPI conference and festival, like other international theater festivals, has had to contend with a number of challenges. This section elaborates on two challenges, among many, of international theater festivals: programming and lack of common language of exchange. Financial limitations have privileged solo performances in these international festivals. Solo pieces are relatively easy to remount and are economical. There is only the performer and perhaps a stage manager. In this festival, the fourteen evening performances included at least ten solo performances, ranging from excerpts to full-length pieces. Language-based performances were in the minority here. Of critical note is that in most of the world, performance genres are not so strictly demarcated into dance, music, poetry, and theater, though the dominant paradigm of contemporary Western theater privileges spoken word and written text. Two notable movement-based performances are excerpts from Ananya Chatterjea's In Search of Sapna and the group Hanaarishi's Kaniku (The fresh of fruit). The intense physicality of the two pieces stresses the demands of the performance on the body. Both pieces pursue metaphysical concerns such as dreams, hopes, and existence itself, through corporeality. Chatterjea, an Indian classical dancer based in the United States, choreographs women's struggle for hope, peace, and joy in In Search of Sapna. She is an emerging contemporary feminist performance theorist and author of Butting Out (2004), a book-length study on African American choreographer Jawole Willa Jo Zollar and South Asian choreographer Chandralekha. Chatterjea's performance works physicalize her own theoretical questions about form, arts, and politics. In Search of Sapna's choreogaphy uses classical Odissi dance as a tool for contemporary stories. In Search of Sapna is part of Chatterjea's recent community-based project Bandt, which brings together women of color from various aspects of community work in Minneapolis. Chatterjea does not perform Odissi in a traditional mode, exclusively to retell the eternal union of Radha and Krishna. In this excerpt, the link between beauty and rigor often masked in classical dance forms is demystified. Moves that stretch and reach, fast and firm footwork, winding torso, and jutting out of the hips are used to emphasize desire. She deploys the sensuality of Odissi to stage the centrality of desire in women's pursuit of hope, dreams, and joy, embodied in this piece as a young girl, performed by Chatterjea's daughter Shrija. Chatterjea is stalwart performer whose intensity reverberates beyond the stage. Japanese performance group Hanaarishi presented Kaniku, a stunning visual dance theater work that centers on the subjectivity of corporeality. This piece featured one performer, Furukawa On. Kaniku draws from butoh and kabuki, and primarily features On's bare torso covered in white body paint as the only lighted object on the darkened stage. Her stomach movements, sustained for more than twenty minutes, vary from undulation to rapid sucking motions. This stomach sequence creates visual illusions on the stage: Is it a puppet of an enlarged head? Is the torso suspended? At the core of Haniku is the question of the subjectivity of the flesh. Among the assumption about nonspoken language-based performance is that the body transcends the restrictions of spoken language. There is a certain fetishization of the body and its assumed translatability across languages, cultures, borders. The body-in-movement as fetish object is either valorized precisely because of its abstract nature, or is dismissed as too abstract and unreadable. Works presented at the WPI conference, specifically those of Chatterjea and On, resisted these views of the body. The pieces presented by these Asian dance theater artists are deeply rooted in the ongoing discourse on the body and movement in South Indian classical dance and Japanese butoh. More conventional theater included Filipino PETA's full-length performances from Malou Jacob's story of a woman lawyer ostracized for her refusal to partake in the systems of patronage and petty bribes that beset local office life. The musical stage premiere of the Philippine film classic Himala (Miracle) was also part of the festival's evening presentations. Himala tells the story of a girl who sees religious visions and is forever separated from her peers. Ricardo Lee, the original scriptwriter, penned this stage version in the 1970s, while he was incarcerated for his political disagreements with the Marcos regime during the martial law years. The film version of Himala took years to be produced, and was finally released for public viewing in 1982, after the martial law was lifted. The well-known known theater, TV, and film director Soxie Topacio directed the stage version, while Vincent de Jesus directed the music, composed, and cowrote the lyrics. Whereas the evening performances of Chatterjea and On pushed the limits of what constitutes a "play," the afternoon reading sessions were dedicated to language. These reading sessions were in English, and plays were either written in or translated into English. As mentioned earlier, the structure of the festival privileged the work and process of play writing. The play readings were structured so that excerpts or full plays were read and then discussed, with one hour allocated to each playwright. A reading session consisted of three playwrights' work. Sixty plays were featured in the festival in addition to the evening performances, and a minimal number of plenary sessions with speakers or panels. The lack of a shared language made extended critical conversation difficult in the play reading sessions. Although the plays were presented in English, some playwrights were not comfortable conversing in the language. For example, one of the sessions featured the work of a Sri Lankan playwright, Ratna Pushpa Kumari's A Soldier's Wife. The play dramatizes the intersection of national and domestic domain. It narrates a housewife's relationship to the war between Tamil liberation fighters and the ruling government of Sri Lanka. A Soldier's Wife was written originally in English. This play is simplistic and sympathetic to the actions of Sinhalese-dominated Sri Lankan government. A number of us in the room attempted to engage the author about the play's valorization of state violence against the Tamil minority. Her response deflected the play's reinforcement of the dominant political structure: "This is how it is." Her concern in writing the play was to give voice to the women who are "being widowed by this ongoing war," yet the Tamil widows were given no voice. In an effort to squelch tension, some of the participants steered the conversation toward "artistic license" and benign questions about character development. The desire of some of the audience members to "help" the playwright respond to what they perceived to be an attack foregrounded liberal anxieties around race and language. For some audience members, Kumari's nonfluency in the English language made raising critical questions a "wasted" exercise. The conversation was steered toward "universal" or aesthetic-centered issues, even as those who offered critical comments on the play resisted infantilizing Kumari and her work. The challenges and possibilities of corporeality and language on global stage were vigorously enacted at the WPI conference. The examples I cite above are some instantiations of the friction of producing culture in the age of globalization as it unfolds on the global stage. Performing Ethnicity on Global Stage A dominant theme that emerged in the evening performances was an exploration of counternationalism through the langauge of indigeniety. Tammy Anderson's I Don't Want to Play House, by which a Tasmanian native critiques Australia; Ivete de Oliviere's Dancing in the Blood, by which an East Timori indictes Indonesia; and Bebot Rodil's Gagmayng Butang (Small Things), which addresses the Mindanao conflict, go beyond a celebration of the heterogeneity of women. Each piece is a strong critique of nationalist constructions of womanhood as inextricably linked to national identity. This was evident in the content of these works, but also in their incorporation of performance traditions from the various ethnic and racial communities under suppression by ruling powers. Scholar Christopher Balme in Decolonizing the Stage (1999) theorizes the turn to indigenous performance traditions in postcolonial theater as part of a decolonizing process. I cite here three Filipino performances at the WPI conference that highlighted ethnicity as resistance to both patriarchy and nation: The presence of T'boli chanters (traditional epic singers with a shamanic background) and two pieces that came from the Mindanao region, which is currently battling against the central government of the Philippines. All three pieces as performance questioned the homogenization of ethnic groups into the larger nation-state and extolled gender-specific ethnic identity. T'boli from the Southern Cotabato region had a marked presence in the festival opening evening performances with chanting and were ever visible in traditional clothing at sessions. Other performances approached Philippine ethnic diversity through display of such diversity. In Pagbati (Paghilab sa Panganganak; Pangs of childbirth) Grace Manuel and Mary Jane Alejo performed Geejay Ariola's and Marili Fernandez-Ilagan's piece. This montage of songs, folk dances, monologues, poetry, and myth directed by Fernandez-Ilagan depicts the plight of women in Mindanao as they navigate state repressions and daily survival. The performers brought lightness to what could otherwise have been a heavy-handed and morose narrative. Moments that portray pain and suffering-for example, the shriek of a woman giving birth-are balanced with a scene where the actors take turns searching for lice on each other's head. Folk and rock music played on an acoustic guitar enlivened the performance. Pagbati thus staged the speci.city of ethnic gendered body, even as it is anchored within an archetypal nation-state narrative. A play reading of Gagmayng Butang (Small things) by Bebot Rodil of Mindanao examined the long battle of Islamic "separatist" groups against the Philippine government from a region that produces over half the country's food supply but receives only 8 percent of the national budget. Rodil's funny and poignant play focuses on the search for peaceful coexistence in the conflict-torn Lanao region of southern Philippines. The play captures the three impacted communities-Filipino Muslims, the tribals, and the Christian lowlanders-living in tension while hoping for peaceful communal existence. The play dramatizes how the daily warring affects women, as well as their vision for a peaceful coexistence, in a nondidactic way. Rodil highlights the possibility of a sustainable reconciliation through peace dialogues, including role-playing, scenarios, and storytelling. Rodil also criticizes sensational depictions of alleged Islamic fundamentalists in the state of Mindanao. Such representations mask the culpability of the Philippine government in the warring state. Rodil is amongst the group of artists and activists who put the responsibility of facilitating a peaceful accord upon the Philippine state. They also identify the Philippine government's capitalist ventures as aggravating the situation. Displays of ethnicity were not limited to the formal stage. The ringing anklet bells announced T'boli chanters' presence wherever they were during the festival. They wore their unique beadwork designs on their jackets and jewelry throughout the five-day event. On the last day of the festival, they replaced their "native costumes" with blue jeans and T-shirts as they headed back home, making the performance of ethnicity an uncertain terrain beyond the confines of the formal performance stage. In other words, was this performance of a specific Pilipino ethnic identity an ironic comment on authenticity, on indigeneity, or on the very spectacularization of ethnicity? The Body On Stage In the Twenty-First Century Throughout this essay, I have gestured to the performing body as a critical concern in the works featured at the WPI conference. I have discussed the setting in Manila, the movement-centered performances, and the vexed representation of ethnicity. The sixth WPI conference has continued its commitment to creating an alternative global stage by bringing together diverse works from women all over the world. By choosing a site in Asia to hold its latest meeting, the WPI organization acted on its promise to expand participation of women theater artists from Asia, Africa, and Latin America in the WPI. Thus, for example, the conference location in Manila made it possible for ethnic works by smaller women's theater organizations from nonurban centers to be presented more substantially and centrally at the festival. In the context of a changing world, the WPI could provide an opportunity for women theater artists to engage with the global stage. An intimate setting and an atmosphere of camaraderie in these gatherings is an alternative to the professionalization of international festivals. Holding this unique international festival in a post-colonial city such as Manila explicitly highlights histories of imperialisms and multiple colonial legacies. The delegates of WPI were confronted with the madness of national hero Jose Rizal's classic literary heroine Sisa, the testimonies of the lolas (grandmothers) who were sex slaves during the Japanese occupation of the Philippines, and the present conditions of uneven development most evident in the sex workers that frequented the lobby of the hotel where the delegates were staying. Interface among nations was further embodied in the dance theater performance by Maria Nunes's Dancing in the Blood, about the Indonesian occupation of East Timor, and in the play of a Sri Lankan playwright Rathna Kumari read by South Indian Tamil artist Mangai. In their local national settings, these artists would not be in dialogue. The space of WPI enabled a potential site for communication across silences enforced by national and ethnic divides. As a productive site to restage hegemonic ideologies of gender and nation in a changing world, WPI thus asserts an alternative vision of a global stage, a gendered performing space that frames difference as equally possible and impossible in representation. REFERENCES Balme, Christopher. 1999. Decolonizing the Stage: Theatrical Syncretism and Postcolonial Drama. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Inquiry News Service. 2003. "Pride of Place: The Conjugal Architectural Megalomania." <>. Kirsh-Gimblatt, Barbara. 1998. Destination Culture: Tourisms, Museums, and Heritage. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ridout, Nicholas. 2003. "TFORUM: Eat, Drink, LIFT: Re.ections on the Festival." Theater Forum 22: 45-47.