Mang Serapio

Love for sale

The posh hotel was quite impressive, I should've worn shoes instead of rubber slippers. The coffee did not taste burned (well, at least the first cup didn't) and the sandwich came with a tiny umbrella.

"We need your brain." All 8 or 9 or 10 of them said in perfect unison. What? "We need some stuff in your brain for this things we're working on." What is this thing you're working on? "A beauty pageant." (Cue: Yanni music fades in).

A beauty pageant. I paused for a while (Yanni music up), wolfing down my 300-peso snack and thinking why I didn't order a 500-peso lunch instead like everybody else, it was past lunch afterall. Sure, what's in it for me? "Nothing." Nothing. Sounds fair. But wait, this stuff you want... from my brain... you're just borrowing it, right? I mean, it's my stuff afterall. "Er... yeah." (Music crossfades from Yanni to Mike Francis' "Lovely Day").

So that night with a sterilized ice pick, a cuticle remover, a teaspoon and a plastic bag with ziplock, I picked my brain. They were nice people, and they were nice about it, so the pain was worth it (which wasn't much anyway), although it wasn't easy picking through the rubbish inside my head. Some brain stuff kept splashing on the heap of bond paper on my desk - I'll use them later for something. I carefully placed them inside the ziplock bag and went to bed, dreaming about tiny umbrellas and fog machines with pine-scented oil.

The next day, I hand over the ziplock bag to them (there were more of them, actually their numbers kept growing as we kept on having more meetings). This time I ordered for something in between a snack and a lunch - tapsilog here is served here without a free bowl of soup like every other tapsilog place does, but that's ok.

"Hmmm, nice stuff," said one while sniffing the bag. Another opened the bag and dipped his finger in it and licked his finger, "would you have something in there to salt this stuff a bit?" You mean right here, right now? "Uh-huh." Good thing I brought that faux Swiss knife I won in a Christmas raffle. So right there, while everyone was enjoying either their grilled prawns or Caesar's salad or minestrone, I picked my brain. I added a bit of this and that into the ziplock bag and the bag was passed around and everybody dipped their fingers into the bag and then everybody licked their fingers and in perfect unison, they said, "Hmmmm, this is good. Take two bottles of freshly ground pepper and we'll call you in the morning."

I left feeling quite dizzy.

They didn't call the next morning, but two mornings after. They wanted another meeting, and they wanted me to bring them more of that brain stuff. Like Clarisse Starling, I trustingly and blindly obeyed.

This brain picking makes me hungry, and I was hungry on that third meeting, so I ordered something two notches classier than the soup-less tapsilog platter.

As they passed around the new batch of stuff around, and just as I was picming through the extenders in my goulash, I heard them say, "there's one more thing we need."

What?

"Your heart."

My heart?

"Yup, we'll pay you."

How much?

"Your brain stuff's good, we're sure you heart's fine too, so name your price."

You do understand that if you take my heart I'll die, right?

"Really?"

Really. So here's the deal, I can give you a taste of my heart and let's take it from there. But bear in mind that I will never allow you to take all my heart away from me, you may use if for your... er... pageant, but it must always remain inside me, ok?

In perfect unison, "ok." I forgot to cue the music for this scene.

We have 10 lunches after that, and on the 11th one which came after a breakfast, we stared at each other for hours until it was time for dinner and I was about to roder something only to find out that they've alreay ordered something for me. Pink salmon.

"Your heart's too expensive."

I almost choked on the salmon I just put in my mouth. Speaking with my mouth full of fish, I said that I wasn't selling my heart, I was merely letting them use it.

"But using it entails costs for us that we find too prohibitive, the equivalent cost of 6 luncheon meetings mean so much to us you know. And besides, we were just wondering if you'd actually sell your heart to us, but you won't, though renting it is fine with us too since we wouldn't need it anymore after the pageant and after we've taken our curtain calls."

I take a sip straight out of the Coke Light can. So what now?

"Actually, we don't really need a heart, all we need is an extra pair of hands... how much are those?"

They're not for sale.

I left in such a haste that I forgot to retrieve the brain stuff in that ziplock bag. But that's ok, there's more where that came from.

Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio

Synopsis ni Padma Perez
Salinwika sa tagalog mula sa Ingles ni KM Altomonte

ANG PAGLILITIS NI MANG SERAPIO - Isang dula ni Paul Dumol

Sino si Serapio? Bakit siya nililitis? Ano'ng paki-alam natin?

Sa unang limang minuto pa lang ng paglilitis ay tatambad na sa atin ang krimen ni Mang Serapio. Ang pagkakasala niya ay pag-aaruga ng bata. Oo, ang pag-aaruga ng bata ay isang krimen. Unti-unting magkakaroon ng liwanag ang akusasyong ito sa pag-usad ng kwento. Si Serapio ay isang pulubi na kasapi ng isang federacion na namamahala sa arawang-kita ng mga pulubi mula sa pamamalimos. Hinabla siya sa “korte” ng federacion dahil kung tunay nga siyang nag-aaruga ng isang bata, nagkakasala siya dahil bumababa ang kita ng federacion dahil sa pangangalaga niya sa batang yaon. At kung nababawasan nga naman ang kita federacion, kailangan siyang parusahan. Ang maitim na kalikasan ng federacion ay mapaghahalata nang ihayag ng mga taga-usig na ang parusa sa mga lumalabag sa mga batas ng federaciong tulad ni Serapio ay pagpilay o pagbulag, na siya namang makatutulong sa kanilang pagiging pulubi. Ang bawat desisyon ng “korte” ay ginagawa para sa kabutihan ng nakararami sa federacion.

Hindi na bago ang mga balita tungkol sa mga federaciong nagpapalakad sa mga pulubing namamalimos. Madalas tayong makarinig tungkol sa mga ito, at kung tayo'y magmamanman ng mabuti, ang ebidensyang tunay ngang mayroong mga ganitong uri ng federacion ay nasa ating harapan lamang, sa ating mg lansangan. Ang isa sa mga nakakagimbal sa Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-amin ng isa sa mga kanyang taga-usig na ang tunay na “krimen” ni Mang Serapio ay ang pag-aaruga ng mga pangarap, mga pangarap na hindi naman makakamtan. Para sa federacion, ang mga pangarap at ang mga nangangarap ay mapanganib. Nais tayong paniwalain ng federacion na mas mainam na huwag tayong mangarap, huwag maiba, at huwag pangarapin ang pagbabago, dahil ang pag-asa sa pagbabago ay walang ibang kahahantungan kundi pagkakasakit at kabiguan.

Sa paggamit ng estilong theater-in-the-round kung saan nakapalibot ang mga manonood sa acting area, kakaibang karanasan sa panonood ng isang dula ang hatid ng pagtatanghal ng Open Space Projects ng “Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio.” Bukod pa rito, ang pagtatangahal na ito ay maaari ring magsilbing plataporma sa pagtalakay ng mga paksa sa araling panlipunan tulad ng struktura ng kapangyarihan sa ating lipunan. Para sa mga estudyante, nagbibigay-daan din ang dula para sa mga talakayan ukol sa mga kaugaliang pilipino at mga konsepto ng ambisyon, pag-asa, hustisya at pag-ibig.

Dagdag pa rito, ang pagsasadula ng paglilitis bilang isang tila palatuntunang pantelebisyon o showbiz blitz ay maaari ring maging tulay sa mga katanungan ukol sa paghubog ng media sa mga impormasyon, mga imahe at ating pag-iisip at kung paano nito naapektuhan ang ating buhay at ang ating mga paniniwala.

Kung ang buhay ay tila nga isang dula, ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio ay isang palabas na ipinaloob sa isa pang palabas, at tayo, ang mga manonood, ay mga saksi hindi sa krimeng nagawa ni Mang Serapio, kundi sa mga kawalang-hustisya ng mga ginawa sa kanya.

Bilang mga saksi, kailangan din siguro nating itanong sa ating mga sarili ang mga katanungang ibinato kay Mang Serapio, at maari siguro tayong mapagisip-isip, si Serapio nga ba ay isa lamang hamak na pulubi, o isa ba siyang taong nangangarap, at maari nga kayang isa siyang katulad natin? At kung siya nga ay katulad din natin, sino ang Federacion at paano tayo binubulag nito?

(Open Space Projects' production of Ang Paglilitis Ni Mang Serapio goes on stage at the Bulwagang Juan Luna of U.P. Baguio on August 23, 2007 with shows at 1:30PM and 6:30PM. For inquiries call Dulaang U.P. at mobile 09175060080 or UPCAC at 09102504935 or landline # (074) 4448393)

Sh*t

RELIGIONS OF THE WORLD

TAOISM – Shit happens.
HARE KRISHNA – Shit Happens Rama Rama Ding Ding.
HINDUISM – This Shit Happened Before
ZEN – What Is The Sound Of Shit Happening?
BUDDHISM – When Shit Happens, Is It Really Shit?
CONFUCIANISM – Confucius Says, Shit Happens.
7th DAY ADVENTIST – Shit Happens On Saturdays.
PROTESTANISM – Shit Won't Happen If You Work Harder.
CATHOLICISM – If Shit Happens I Deserve It.
JEHOVAH'S WITNESS – Knock, Knock. “Shit Happens.”
UNITARIAN – What Is This Shit/
MORMON – Shit Happens Again & Again & Again.
JUDAISM – Why Does This Shit Always Happen To Me?
RASTAFARIANISM – Let's Smoke This Shit!!!

Portraits... tales from a hill station

Open Space Projects' upcoming tv show... coming in September.

Like a song

I was bit late, thanks to my printer which for some mysterious reason pauses printing every 4 or 5 pages now (not so mysterious, actually... after 3 years and hundreds of copies of various scripts, design studies, etc., it's ripe for replacement), so it took a long while to print 20 copies of the script for Sunday's script reading.

Baguio theater pillar Ferdie Balanag was there on time, and Jojo Lamaria (theater actor turned gymnast turned photo journalist and returning theater actor), so were most OSP veterans: Syrel Amazona (coming from a couple of years' stint as host in a local ABS-CBN show), Ana and Candice Degollacion (allowed by their mom to juggle HRM and Dentistry (respectively) and being in a play after a whole year's absence in theater), Mai Fianza and Freida Fernandez (OSP's dynamic stage management duo) and Eunice Caburao who was coming from a vacation in Bicol. Those who made it in the previous day's auditions were there on time too (a good sign, I hope they keep it up.). Roman Ordoño was late (surprise, surprise). But that's ok, for now... it was a beautiful afternoon and the sunlight through VOCAS' glass windows was warm and felt good against the cold breeze. Smile. Let's begin.

We started the session with brief individual introductions, then I introduced the cast to the material: Paul Dumol's one-act play, "Ang Paglilitis ni Mang Serapio." Several months after we first thought of staging this play, I think I finally have the right cast. We did do a reading months ago, but somehow the energy wasn't there then so the production was shelved for a while.

I segue into my director's treatment, and as I did I scanned the eyes infront of me to make sure I was getting it across, into them, that we understood each other. As I spoke I began to see images of crowds of young students at the front row wondering if Serapio will indeed be blinded; of the staff rushing to get those props ready for rehearsals, of meals cooked for the cast and roadtrips on dirt roads to Kabayan, of performances in the lowlands, of jampacked vans filled with costumes, props, lighting and sound equipment, and artists trying to get to the next gymnasium full of students somewhere in Pangasinan.

And we began to read. Ferdie has clearly studied the script prior to the reading - except for minor stutters here and there, the lines flowed out of him like a song. The younger ones obviously are new to the theater, not exactly knowing how to read a script, which are directions and which are lines. Jojo's delivery of the word "federacion" gave me ideas for his character as the "Hukom."

Running time: Approx. 45 minutes.

It felt good seeing almost everyone getting lost in the story as the reading progressed. From cold deliveries of the lines the actors slowly began to give more and more life to the script. "Si Sol na anak ni Sol," "Pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga, pag-aaruga ang krimen niya," "Huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan, parang awa niyo na, huwag niyong bubuksan 'yan!" I can't wait to begin blocking this play.

But not yet. One more reading, script and character analysis... then we begin putting together the story onstage... slowly getting those stage movements right, getting the rhythm in sync, pauses when the moment calls for it, outbursts when it moment is right for it, until those lines flow out of each and every actor on stage like a song.

Telling my friends about it...

I got a call inviting me to help in the campaign of Peds for mayor early this year. To sell out or not to sell out.. but I figured, we local artists spend a lot of time and energy complaining about the city government's lack of support for the arts, but when the time comes when we, just like every ordinary citizen, can make a difference in Baguio, most of us choose to sit it out and watch the elections pass. Mock the whole exercise, even (though a lot of times not without reason, I must add).

Call it whatever you want but I chose to actively participate in this year's local elections. You see a good movie and you tell your friends about it, you listen to some good music and you burn a cd copy for your friends, you read a good book and you can't wait to lend it to a friend after... There are so many things that have been said about Peds, but looking at the other candidates running for the same position, I chose him. And I told my friends about it.

If he does well, then I'll be proud to have contributed to his victory. If he doesn't, then I have all the right to complain for I have been a participant in shaping Baguio's future when I placed my thumbprint on that ballot for him last Monday.

Call it whatever you want, but I just don't believe that sitting on that fence and then jumping to whichever side's convenient when the smoke clears just isn't right.

Dear candidate...

It didn't rain on Good Friday in John Hay

The year started with a new car, not a brand new one but a decent sedan offered to us by a friend under the friendliest terms and conditions, so we got it.

I drive down with it and an entertainer to meet up with the officers of this Rotary Club in Quezon City to negotiate a contract for me to direct the opening and closing ceremonies of their district conference (the entertainer brought me into this project). I was supposed to provide my services as director of two production numbers, the doxology (the latest trend is for the invocation to be done in song [Bocelli's The prayer] and dance [a couple of ballet dancers]), 24 dancers, production design, and 15 ballroom dance instructors for the Governor's Ball.

Slacks, Lacoste shirts and shoes, blazers, gelled hair, cigarettes and Scotch, plus me and the entertainer.

She represents me and the lights and sound provider, this entertainer. That's ok, she's put a mark up on every single item that would fall under my budget. Aside from what I was supposed to provide, she was bringing in herself and a brass band. What I didn't know was that that mark up avergaed 50% on every item. Not to mention her 150% mark up on the brass band. An hour into the meeting and it was apparent that the Rotarians thought the budget was too high, plus they weren't really impressed with the lights and sound provider that the entertainer brought with her, as far as they're concerned, they'd rather stick to the lights and sound provider they used the previous year. Sensing that, the etertainer blurts out what she thought would seal the deal - "I won't perform if you don't get my guy." Diva.

Long story short, one more meeting and then they took her out, took her guy out, and chose to keep me. I relay this information to her, plus the fact that they'd only do it if the budget is this much, and under that budget I could only give her 5%. She agrees, or so I thought.

The District Conference happened, with the Rotary's original choice for lights and sound equipment providing technical reinforcement ruining the whole thing with booboos every five minutes (bringing the Rotary Governor to several near heart attacks), and with the entertainer out of the scene but all over town telling the story of how the project was "stolen" from her.

The election campaign fever followed right after the district conference, and I was really craving for some soul food, so to speak. So we decide to do JC-Live - no money, just guts and a great libretto. Perennial benefactors University of Baguio and Rural Bank of Itogon provide some much needed funds to jumpstart the thing. We use some of that money to buy beer for the two VOCAS performances. Nathan dilly-dallies as Herod so we decide to bring in the new kid in town, Ron Luis, to audition for the role. I meet him, he says hello in that rough, Tom Waits voice, and I say, "you're in." He does a blues version of Herod's song.

Ethan's musical direction is at the center of the production, it's a concert afterall. Despite the lack of budget, he thought it was necessary to bring in more musicians adding a keyboard and two blowers to our original band of 5 musicians.

We open in VOCAS with a modestly filled house... the first performance, as expected, seemed more like a dress tech, with hitches here and there, all minor though, thank God. No lights where Judas was supposed to enter, Herod kept disappearing and just as his part was coming next, he decides to go to the bathroom, so he sings the first lines as he was zipping up his fly coming out of the bathroom. Cholo messes up some of his lines, and struggled throughout the Pilate and Christ scene. Yoshi was off by five seconds in that prolonged high note in Gethsemane (but, well, 15 seconds instead of 20 sustaining that high note is already a feat anyway). The second show the next day was a hit, with all the minor hitches ironed out, by the time the overture was played in John Hay on the third day, Open Space rose again. And for the first time, it didn't rain on Good Friday in Baguio. Not in John Hay anyway. And then the usual, "really? you guys aren't from Manila? All these talents are local?" Yeah.

I still have all the lights (those improvised par cannisters fashioned out of G.I. sheets and curtain rods) in the trunk of our car (thirty percent paid and counting). The entertainer cashed her check the day after I left it for her at the front desk of the Manor. A performance art festival is in the offing and will open in a couple of weeks. We're doing our performance art peice designed for the visually impaired.

Some Scotch on the rocks and a day at the beach wouldn't be bad at all. Rain or shine.

It is...

Posted that same piece below on my multiply site, and it has recieved a couple of comments from friends...

From Padma:

"It is common knowledge that Baguio needs leaders with an exceptional vision of a different sort of future. A future that extends far beyond their political careers.

It is common knowledge that these leaders are nowhere in sight.

It is common knowledge that these days, vision consists of poorly planned flyovers, artificial snow, and sad hollywood rip-offs.

Is it because it is common knowledge, that no one is in an outrage?"

From Su:

"Isn't it strange how things that are outrageous become common knowledge...and thus...as Padma says...accepted. I remember so well when we were all standing up and fighting...when they tried to give John Hay away to the Taiwanese. Sometimes I know it feels so overwhelming to fight and fight and fight some more but we can't give up. I am so glad you made this piece Karlo. I wish there was a way to get it aired over and over on national television."

I do remember a bit of that one battle Su mentioned (the one against the plan to give CJH to a Taiwanese corporation), and I was there myself when the battle shifted to the plan to have CJH turned into an almost exclusive playground for the filthy rich and tasteless. I remember how passionate the whole Baguio community was about it, particularly the its more famous members. It's sad that the fight was not sustained to actually win the battle and now the voices have died down and Camp John Hay is almost a non-issue these days despite the fact the much-trumpeted justification for the selling of one of Baguio's treasures, the money it will bring into the city via rental fees, remains to be seen (almost a decade since they started chopping down trees and building ridiculously-priced luxury homes in the camp).

I remember how the community once again let its sentiments be known on the planned casino in John Hay, and with the protracted war against the abusive pay-parking company, Jadewell - which resulted in the trashing of then Mayor Bernanrdo Vergara, one of the people who brought upon us Jadewell and who tried to ram the casino down our throats, in the 2004 elections).

And so, though we do need a maverick up there in city hall, what Baguio needs is its people to once again make a united stand against the cotinued rape of the city mostly perpetuated by, sadly, the very people we elected to protect the city's interests.

At the end of the day, way more than the government officials, it is the people who make good things happen in Baguio. That, too, is common knowledge.

It is common knowledge