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.