02.28.08 kulturnatib

Failure

Nobody likes a failure. I don't. Especially when it is somebody I see in the mirror every morning. Yet, I draw some consolation from the fact that not all mirrors are the same. Some mirrors are better than others.

A failure reflected in one mirror could be more acceptable when reflected in other mirrors. Mostly because the mirrors are different. And, that is discounting circus or deliberately distorted mirrors.

Let me explain.

I hold a Philippine driver's license. As far as that is concerned, in Philippine mirrors, I am a success. Yet, I realize that this success is informed by the fact that I do not know if anybody really is or, in fact, can be a failure in the Philippines when it comes to obtaining a driver's license.

This, despite the fact that, like most everywhere in the world where obtaining such a license is governed by a process of determining suitability, aptitude, knowledge and skill at operating a vehicle for which the license then accords certain rights and responsibilities for vehicular operation in roads.

This process, in most cases, involve a two step determination; a written examination and another one, if the previous is successfully completed, that determines if theoretical or 'head' knowledge is applied into actual practice. A road test, in other words.

This two-step test, taken at its most basic definition, always involves the possibility of failure. Failure is, therefore, an inevitable or inseparable possibility in this equation.

In the Philippines, however, as far as obtaining a driver's license is concerned, failure is not an option. Because other options are readily available -- and often as readily accessed or sought after -- that can miraculously turn a failure into a success or that erases the difference between failure and success even before any determination is conducted. Often, such determination is done away with entirely.

In Canada my Philippine driver's license is good only for 90 days. After which, if I still want to drive legally, I must exchange it for one that is legal tender for roads here. This exchange involves the same determination that I went through, or should have gone through to obtain that Philippine license.

Unfortunately what is simply fact here is just as simply fiction in the Philippines where, as has been said often, laws are merely a suggestion, none of which are more obeyed than with traffic laws.

Fortunately, here, there are a wealth of resources for learning just what the traffic laws and regulations are which are embodied, most immediately, in traffic signs and signals.

It is even possible to take a 'rehearsal' test in the internet through the site of the driver's license regulatory authority. And that turned out to be not very different from the actual test which is done through a computer terminal which one schedules ahead of time and one must make sure to be on time to take.

I passed this test. But, not the road test.

I made an infraction that would ordinarily have earned me a citation, a fine and an entry on my driving history record that would have a bearing on my obtaining or being denied a renewal of my license in the future.

The infraction was serious enough that there was no possibility of an appeal, just as a police officer here would not be appealed to. So, I did not even try.

I take consolation in the fact that the system here will just as surely fail you as pass you depending on how you do simply by the rules of this system. Thus, even failure has its honor. The honor of simply going by the rules.

2.21.08 kulturnatib

Yesterday once more

In my last column I wrote about experiencing a festival parade in Quebec City. It wasn't much of a parade. The locals themselves said so. It hardly compared with our own Sinulog, which, I said at the end of that column, gave me a feeling of what could only be called pride.

Now, it seems that another parade is moving with a potentially far greater impact than all the Sinulogs so far put together. And it promises to be just as colorful, riotous, and, as always, with much drama. It is a march of history that is raising expectations welling up into pride and hope among us Filipinos all over.

Since arriving here I get an inkling of what is happening in the Philippines through the internet. Usually, it comes in the form of emails from family and friends. But, also, I regularly go through the roster of my favorite columnists in the Inquirer for updates on home news. But, of late, I had not done any of the latter.

So, an email notice of a new YouTube posting was my first clue. The heading said; Video link – GREED. Upon opening this mail the opening line said; Cebuanos Show of Support for Jun Lozada.

Immediately, I thought of two close friends. Both are related distantly through common family lines, the Lozadas among them. Who could this Lozada be, I wondered? Why would Cebuanos show support for him enough that a friend – who should otherwise be busy recording a reunion CD with an old band with the namesake of that old Bisaya revolutionary, Leon Kilat -- would bother doing a YouTube posting about?

After clicking on that video link, I was immediately back to surfing through my favorite Inquirer columnists. Among them is veteran essayist, Sylvia Mayuga. As usual, she is right dead on the spot. Or should that be right dead on the money?

She writes, “Dear Jun, Can you surf the Net where you are? If not, someone must have told you by now that you, Romy Neri, Ben Abalos, Mike Arroyo and the ZTE-NBN scandal are all over YouTube these days. That’s 30 videos and counting . . . .”

Since my friend posted his YouTube video the day after Mayuga wrote her open letter to Jun, it could not have counted among the 30. But, with the internet in general and YouTube in particular being called the new 'viral' media, you could bet that this virus has already spawned or infected into many more YouTube videos. Truly, and counting. Many of these will be posted from outside the Philippines.

Mayuga also further observed that “. . . It cannot be an accident that you, a new Filipino icon, are neither a temporizing priest nor a glib lawyer but an IT engineer trained to make intricate new systems work . . . . Now, with video as a laser sword and the Internet as a global screen, who can say what fresh chapter your tearful act of honesty on ZTE-NBN has opened for our global nation?”

All these were ricocheting in my head as I watched a play staged at the National Arts Center. It was a recasting of the Shakespearian classic, 'Julius Caesar,' into 'Death of a Chief.' It is Julius Caesar in a uniquely 'aboriginal' or 'autochtone' or even 'Indian' perspective.

The uniqueness comes with the weaving of the historical experience of the conquest, subjugation, forced integration and, now, reassertion of identity and legal rights of Indian communities or nations in Canada and North America with the wider, deeper and common themes of the power of leadership and the corruption of this power that Julius Caesar is about. In both worlds, in Caesar's Rome and among the Indian communities, as it is indeed everywhere, people struggle with the idea and the reality that power corrupts.

Upon getting home from the play I felt I had to get in touch with some friends. To get a feel of the ground the way the internet just gives you a glimpse of. The Cebuanos do support Jun Lozada, reported a friend who belongs to another line of Lozadas.

But, he says, it is still slow in coming. The more enlightened among the clergy are leading it, the students should be at the forefront but they are not. Still, he says, people know that something is in the air. It has the smell of truth.

Here, we are trying to get our Filipino friends together. For once, there will be something hopeful to talk about and, hopefully, to be proud about once more.

02.14.08 kulturnatib

Pride parade

When you are told that a certain festival parade is the third biggest of its kind in the world, next only to the Rio de Janeiro Carnival, the New Orleans Mardi Gras and that, moreover, this parade is 54 years old this year in a city that is also, this year, celebrating its 400th birthday then, it cannot be helped that your expectations simply shoots through the roof.

Still, you pipe in, rather wanly, about this festival parade in your city. Sinulog, it's called, you say. It is the biggest festival parade in your country. Well, you admit, its not that old, its only been around for, you rake your brain, perhaps 25 years. But, its good, you submit.

It has been compared favorably -- by partisans, yes -- to the Rio carnival but not to the one you have just been told about. Sorry, you apologize, neither you nor anybody else in your country you know has heard of this parade you have been invited to experience.

We'll see, you say, giving credit to the fact that this parade is somewhat different. Actually very different. This is the parade for a winter festival that celebrates the customs and culture of winter in this region of this country known for its fierce winters. This has led to it being referred to, not so jokingly, as having only two seasons: winter and the next winter.

As such, unlike the Rio Carnaval or the New Orleans Mardi Gras or even Sinulog that has some kind of religious reference, this winter festival has an entirely civic, social or public health reason behind it.

From the earliest beginnings of the realization that disease and sickness have a social dimension it has been known that winter and the forced confinement that it results in produces depression and other sicknesses, a syndrome called 'cabin fever.'

The prescription to this then is to spend some time outdoors. The more, the better. So, this festival that happens every first three weeks of February and the parades that happen in the second and third weekends was organized.

The Sinulog also has two parades, although the first one, is really a religious procession. This, like the first of the two Quebec Carnival parades, is for families. Here, the similarities between the Sinulog and the Quebec Carnival become more different.

Mostly because, freed from religious trappings and constraints, the locals here are simply more forthright in calling their two parades, unofficially, the family parade and the drunken parade.

So, it was to the family parade I was invited. It's going to be different, I was told. After all, this is the city's 400th birthday and despite some setbacks -- the Pope has declined the invitation to say mass here, among other disappointments -- it is determined to show that it knows how to celebrate big time.

Right away it is different for me. To stand outside in subzero, freezing temperature is different. But, you're waiting with some 300 people at this particular street corner along the 4 kilometer parade route, the collective body heat somehow keeps the cold at bay. Then it starts to snow.

In the meantime, something familiar entertains the crowd as they are increasingly getting impatient. Some enterprising person walks around selling some gadget that lights up when waved about. It is not cheap. But it sells. Fast. Soon, other people are selling other things. But they are just a handful. At the Sinulog easily a tenth of the crowd is made up of these itinerant vendors.

Almost an hour after the announced time, the parade arrives, led by more vendors selling stuff. This time, though, they were 'official vendors' selling 'official carnival items.' They are not a big hit with the crowd.

But, where are the bands, the loud music, the noise, you wonder? Then you see the electronic equipment hoisted on this forklift vehicle. Music is issuing forth from the speakers. You can't tell what it is. It's not loud enough.

Then you see young people in costumes, bringing huge drafting instruments. They are prancing about with no discernible pattern or choreography. No, they line up. They dance, if you can call it that. Then they move on.

More young people. More prancing about. More forklifts with electronics and lights that get lifted up and brought down. There are the giant puppets, made to move about with the aid of a mobile construction crane. There are the floats whose themes or relation to what the over-all theme for the celebration you cannot establish, which you do not know beforehand anyway.

Later, enjoying the refuge of a hot cup of coffee, you are told that there wasn't much after you left. That was basically it. That was it? Yes, but you missed the bon homme du carnaval. The mascot of the carnival. A snowman. No, not a giant one. A regular one. I missed that?

You didn't want to be rude. After all, you are still a guest. You let the locals do the talking. It wasn't good; not impressive; it was better before, etc. The local press, chipping in the following day, was more diplomatic: It needed oiling.

Now, you wonder, why after all the years of trying to be away from the city during Sinulog, you miss it and, somehow, something wells inside you that could only be pride.

02.07.08 kulturnatib

Striking twice

It is generally accepted that lightning does not strike the same place twice. That this does happen is considered to be so rare it becomes either big news or, better, it earns a place is the archives of Ripley's Believe It Or Not.

Recently, I received an email notice of a new YouTube video posting that is leading me to believe rather than not that, even sans Ripley's endorsement, lighting is about to strike twice.

The YouTube video posting was from Winston, a friend and one of the best, most respected drummers in town; a senior musician to whom all the juniors look up.

He is also involved with a local performance art group, XO?. This involvement has considerably widened and deepened his music and has led our paths to cross once again in what is also now, even with distance, a path that is wider, leading to a more interesting horizon, as I have also been and continue to be involved with that same performance art group.

Ours is actually a long story going back to our elementary school days. But the more relevant part of this story has happened not long ago, in the course of our reconnecting, resurfacing our common interest in music and the visual arts.

At this point, another personage must be introduced who shares similar interest as Winston and myself, an important strand in this tapestry and, as happens, also a good friend and comrade in the arts.

Introduce might be a bit presumptuous here. He, of us three, would need the least introduction, if at all. He is a household name: Budoy aka Errol Marabiles.

I have followed Budoy's development as an artist, as a musician. I know that his artistic concerns are rooted in the serious quest for Bisayan identity. With this, I have known the history and understand the choice of the name for their band: Jr. Kilat.

Typical of Budoy's aikido artistry, of using the energy of adversity to propel it towards opportunity, he created this name when his sense of respect for precedence or for his elders would not let him use his originally preferred name; Leon Kilat.

Leon Kilat (Lightning) aka Pantaleon Villegas is, of course, the name of Cebu's own revolutionary hero. It is also the name of a band in the 80's who took the hero's namesake for its own as it sought to establish a music more attuned with the demands of the times against oppression, tyranny, dictatorship and the dominance of the air and ear-waves by the American Top Forty.

So, Budoy had to settle with Jr. Kilat. The rest – with a nationally popular showbiz detour -- is musical history.

Of this history, one song stands out, 'Original Sigbin,' the carrier single of Jr. Kilat's hit inaugural CD. It is also this single, it turns out, that owes as much to appropriation as unique or single-handed creation, a not unheard of event in art, especially music. As the great musical modernist, Igor Stravinsky, once said, “A good composer does not copy, he steals.”

I was happy when this single came out and when it became very popular, Winston said, when talking about Budoy in one of our conversations. I even advised a fellow musician against taking legal action saying that we should just be supportive of the advance Bisayan music is making through this song, he added.

While I agreed with the tack that he took, I didn't quite realize the import of that conversation until I viewed the YouTube posting announcing the reunion of the original Leon Kilat band of which, I now realized, Winston is a founding member.

Close to three decades later, lightning will strike again. Leon Kilat is reuniting and are in the process of recording a CD, with most of the original members.

After years of jamming together whenever their different jobs, schedules and locations allowed them, they have decided that the time is ripe for the younger generation of Bisayan music enthusiasts - Bisrockers and RnBers (Rasta nga Bisaya) – to appreciate the roots of the fruits they are now enjoying.

In what can be more than simple coincidence, Leon Kilat is now recording in the studio, Backyard Projects Studio, that provided and continues to provide Budoy and Jr. Kilat their audio recording technical playground.

Winston hopes that by midyear the CD can be launched with a concert tour that he prays, as only a father can, will bring the whole Leon Kilat family of several generations together.