12.1.05 kulturnatib

On the way to a performance

It was almost 10.00 in the morning. This was my self-imposed deadline for having everything ready, excluding myself, for which, another thirty minutes would suffice for bathing and other personal hygiene routines. Going by this schedule, I should be at the designated meeting place with much time to spare with everything in hand.

But, as often the case, 10 am came and went and I was still not finished. Though there were just the small loose ends that needed tying up, and literally so.

The things that I had wanted ready, but could not, were things that we used for our perfornace piece during the human rights dialogue on the death penalty and restorative justice sponsored by the Philippine Commission on Human Rights and the European Union at the Waterfront Hotel Lahug yesterday.

These were same-size silhoutte shooting target sheets that were made from broad sheet newspaper and mounted on chipboards. There were five of them. The target elements that were identified with red circle targets for the head, face and chest, were painted on as well as some lines that would, in a real target sheet, identify areas to which corresponding value points are assigned.

To stiffen the board that wasn't the thickest available -- which would make made the targets inordinately heavy -- bamboo slat cross braces were employed that extended way below the bottom edge of the target enough for holding up the target comfortably with both hands.

This was what I was securing with carbage bag ties as the deadline passed. Knowing that this was the last chore to complete the targets, I was able to hold panic at bay. Not for long though.

At half past ten I was cursing my luck at missing an empty taxi. I was a minute too late at a spot on the main road where the taxi driver would have seen me. This was after walking as fast as possible for three quarters of a kilometer, with 5 unwieldy home made shooting targets, a grocery bag with tshirts and a shoulder bag with the minirecorder with a pre-recorded audio tape that one of our performance pieces would proceed around.

At a quarter past 11, we were on our way to the Waterfrom Hotel. In the vehicle, we were running through what we needed to do for the performance, agreeing on our cues and sequences and checking if we had everything. We did. Except for one thing. I had not recorded the explosion of a firecracker that was supposed to mimic a gun explosion, which was the crucial signal for the target boards to be dropped, ending the performance.

I had the firecrackers but nothing to light them with. So we stopped at a sidewalk eatery to buy matches. Since we thought Waterfront Hotel might not take too kindly our exploding firecrackers in their premises we decided to detonate the firecrackers right there on the sidewalk. This we did to the curious stares of the guard of this establishment we had stopped in front of. He didn't really know what we were doing except that somehow it had soemthing to do with exploding a firecracker which was enough for him to give us a thumbs up and a smile.

But it was actually a thumbs down. I must have positioned the recorder too close to the firecracker that when it exploded the concussive force popped up the record button. This is the only explanation I could think of when reviewing the tape and I could not find any sound of an explosion on. Back to square one.

At the Waterfront I sought the assistance of security. I knew that an explosion, even that of a mere firecracker, would have serious consequences amid the tightened security brought on by the SEAGames. Luckily, I ran into a security personnel senior enough to grant me permission to do what I needed to do. He even asked a junior security officer to accompany me and make sure that it was only a firecracker that I would explode.

I had trouble lighting the firecracker. It was too windy. The only corner that offered some protection from the wind was occupied by a pair of boots. I asked the parking lot guard if that was his shoes and if I could light the firecracker next to it. He said it should be ok, after all it is only a firecracker. A small one at that.

I didn't take chances with the recorder though. I positioned it a few feet away. I light the firecracker, it exploded, I got it on tape, and it uppended the guard's boots. He was not too happy about that. That firecracker is a mean bastard, he said. Yes, I said, thinking, but not as mean as those who shoot media persons, about which our performance, "Dead Air" was, which is another performance in the series called "Silence Kills" which is about the general state of summary executions in our city and in our country.