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Wordless Day

On my days off, unable to go home it is usually spent in my red walled dwelling. It would be my impromptu general cleaning day. I try to stay out or up late the night before so I’d wake up later than usual.

One such day, right after getting up and going through my version of breakfast I buckled up do the chores. Alone and armed with cleaning paraphernalia with the radio playing in the background I tie my hair to get it out of my eyes. Suddenly I realized I have not said one word since getting out of bed. It occurred to me to test myself if I could survive the day without uttering an expression not even a giggle or a laugh. Inaudible sighs, coughing and sneezing excluded.

Crazy, the things I do in my solitude.

It was not hard because there was no one to talk to anyway except when and if somebody calls. What do I do then? Right on cue, my mobile phone alerted me of a message. It was one really funny joke and I could have laughed except I remembered what I put myself into. A little challenge is welcome, boring if there were none anyway.

An hour after noon, I faced a cold lunch with a cold shoulder treatment. Not exactly fun but it was amusing. After resting for a while it was time to finish my duty and put things in order.

There. Everything in its proper place. Nothing more to do. Tired and lazy to go out.

So, I decided to watch some DVDs, at least, there would be no need for me to talk. In front of the tv I sat with a blank expression on my face, it helped that it was a documentary about prostitutes and was quite a drag. After that, Amy Tan’s Hundred Secret Senses was in front of me but unfortunately cannot hold my attention long enough. I watched again as it was starting to get dark. It was getting lonely. Not a message in my cellphone inbox either.

With a sigh followed by a smile I dialed Malen’s number. “O! Napatawag ka?” (Why’d you call?) that’s Malen for you. I said, “Wala naman, kailangan ko lang magsalita na at kanina pa ako walang kausap hindi ko na maramdaman yung pisngi ko.” (Nothing much. I just need to talk to someone because my cheeks are already numb.) We were laughing so hard even before I finished what I was saying.

Thank God for friends, for the sounds (especially the laughter) and the silence, for the voice we were given to communicate and express ourselves, for the senses the we were given to enjoy life with.

Visual eloquence

He has one of the most expressive eyes that I have seen and he sees more than anybody can. He captures details -- not only its appearance but most importantly its essence. Tommy Hafalla, Cordilleran photographer extraordinaire' is able to give you a glimpse of the souls of his subjects without stripping them of it.

Our first meeting was at Biscotti and Cocolat, it was a coffee shop cum gallery at Nevada Square where he was exhibiting some of his photos. My first question was, "how were you able to get these pictures?" He replied, "I asked permission from the elders and I stayed in the background, out of their way." And instantly I liked him, he knew what I was talking about. Igorots, especially those in the hinterlands are not keen on having their pictures taken not like those who pose at Botanical Garden. The latter are the exception to the rule.

Next I saw him, he was taking pictures of the first (or second?) Baguio Flower Festival. His hair was long, the tips of which almost reached his waist. We were not able to do our usual coffee, talk and nicotine session because we each had to do our own version of work.

Running into him in Session Road months after the festival I was quite shocked to see only hair stubbles on his head where his mane used to be. He was laughing at my reaction and did not state his reason for the sudden change. Later, he told me it was because all his shots during the flower fest came out blank while he was processing it.

Then Apo Anno (the mummy) came. Or at least we fetched him from the National Museum. Of course it was a very good subject for documentation and I found myself with Tommy and Nonette in one van heading to the Manila Museum to witness the transportation of the remains of Anno. The same party brought the "goods" from Manila to the Benguet Provincial Capitol in La Trinidad for a ritual before proceeding to the site of Anno's burial site in Nabalicong, Natubleng, Buguias, Benguet.

Dave lent me his antique Lyka camera that time. He told me that if I could get one or even two good photos with the thing I could pass for a photographer. Not being able to resist the dare I got the delicate equipment with two rolls of 12 frames of black and white film. Tommy became my instant mentor.

We were resting, on the huge rocks that lined the river. I told Tommy about the dare and he was laughing. "Why?" I asked. He said, "here is one perfect place to take a picture and there you are lying on that rock staring at the sky that you cannot photograph at this time of the day. Take a shot." Classic! The lecture started there and lasted for two days.

This I learned from Tommy; You can never copy how one photographs any subject, a lot of elements are involved in one shot. Composition maybe, placement of accessories and what-have-yous but you will never be able to mimic the imprint of the photographers mind and eye. Our eyes see things in different ways. What you see in photos may not be the same as what others perceive.

Yesterday I read in the Inquirer that he bagged the documentary award in the 2006 International Folklore Photographic Contest. His "Faces of the Cordillera" was recognized with the Humanity Photo Award.

A lot of things have happened since that time in Biscotti but Tommy is still loyal to black and white prints, remains to be a very humble person, kind, generous and a very, very good friend.

Hey, if you are interested to learn from him click the links.
http://www.philphotography.net and http://www.homegrownart.net

Mt. Pulag

Mt. Pulag is the second highest peak in the Philippines and has the most breathtaking sunrise, for me, unparallelled.

Among us Ibalois, the peak is sacred. It is believed that the spirits of our ancestors dwell here with "Kabunian". It is located in the municipality of Kabayan in Benguet which is also known as the seat of the Ibaloi culture.

It is most ideal to scale the mountain during the summer months.

I have not been up there in years. The Cordillera Tourism Press Corps, now headed, by Harley Palangchao and Sly Quintos, if I remember right, usually coordinates a trek to this majestic place. They were not able to pull it off this year because of the elections.

Next year, I hope, they arrange one.

Wed 'er or not

I was home yesterday, Malen came by the house right after she got off the van from Lepanto, Mankayan for coffee and talk.

After the local news and grapevine update she asked me if I knew anyone who can conduct the marriage rites, civil, for her friends who wanted and were scheduled to get married today. It was supposed to be officiated by Baguio City Vice Mayor Daniel Farinas since Mayor Peter Ray Bautista was out of the country. Problem was, Farinas cannot officiate because his "authority" as Acting Mayor has lapsed and Bautista was on his way but there was no advise if he would make it on time to be the one to carry out the ceremony.

So we searched our cellphone directories for "authorized" people. I suggested the Mayor of La Trinidad Artemio Galwan we both knew his residence but we didn't have his contact number. Never mind.

The judges, of course.

I called up JSM and asked if he could do it. He said he could but he left his robe in QC where he held office. We learned, they cannot officiate without their vestments outside of their office and a written request is needed etc. etc. After thanking him, I said we'd keep him posted.

Turning to Malen, I asked why her friends were such in a hurry. She herself did not know the reason. Then she asked me, as if I knew a lot of correct answers, if a couple were to be wed by an Imam will they be considered Moslems? "I think not", I replied. Question is, will it be recognized by the religion the couple were affiliated with? Will their contract be considered legal and binding? Who knows?

Then she said, "It's quite complicated actually. They wanted to get legally hitched in civil rites because they are confused with their religion. One is a catholic and the other is a member of Jehovah's Witnesses. A conflict from the onset. Uh-oh.

While intently and quietly continuing the search I quipped, "Maybe this is a sign that they should not be getting married...yet. Stop them before it's too late. You are their only hope," I added exaggeratedly.

We nearly fell off our seats laughing at the irony of the situation.

Recovering from the funny episode she said she had to leave for an appointment in town.

Til now, I have not heard if the wedding pushed through or not.

Well...best wishes!

Sacred secret

The covenant, yes, that I would say set things in motion for these two souls who were not really in search for something better but stumbled upon an answer to their hearts' unvoiced quest.

Love for both in their past was never, in a sense, satisfying or sublime, I dare say. There were relationships and there were affairs in between relationships. In their traipsing through love's recondite labyrinth of betrayal and pains, victories and pseudo-loves, hypocrisy and kindred spirits, breakthroughs and dead ends -- they learned a lot of things that never last forever and that time, most especially, can never be repossessed.

How were they to know if it were the one intended for them or not? How were they to distinguish its authenticity? How, oh how would they even dare to think that truly there is only one destined for you? They both settled for second best thinking then that it could not get any better. After all, life is not just a fixated search for one's soulmate.

That day started with a caress on her cheek from him who approached her from behind. She was quite surprised with how the gesture felt -- like sunshine peering through cottony clouds. Curious about the myriad of euphoric emotions that seemed to swirl in and around her whenever they were together, quietly she admitted for the nth time, he was like no other in her life.

She looked in his eyes and saw there, hoping perhaps, a reflection of the same affection that has been named but needed more signs of affirmation. Spontaneous, the love was, it is unlike fondness that grows day by day, layer by layer. It was there all along palpable even from a distance, constant in its intensity, waiting for the only one it was meant for. In her sight, his face always had this glow, revealing him only to her as her soul's other half. A beacon from the depths of his soul only for heart to see.

Limited by self imposed restraints both went through the day with thoughts of the other in mind. Very much like when they found the thread that led them to each other. Thinking they hold the thread, they followed, each step of the way realizing they were bound not just by a thread but something more impervious, something solid but unseen. And that truly they had no control, no choice, for their hearts, the masters of their character buried the meaning of resistance.

Why things happen when they do remains a mystery. People have this propensity to schedule the commencement or termination of every event in their lives for convenience. When free-spiritidness takes over complications usually arise. As to why impulses are there and why we give in is yet another unanswerable question.

A kiss, that was the prelude to the recitation of their covenant. The intimacies of a kiss is truer than the words that come out of one's mouth. No one can mask their true feelings in moments like this and no one can be mistaken in reading the other's condition either. You know and you show. A revelation and a discovery happening at the same time. There is always that afterglow to confirm your impressions or the aftertaste. There can never be faking involved for there is too much of the soul that is involved in this union.

When one proposes to that special someone or to anybody of a thing that you know will affect the rest of your lives one would prefer it be done somewhere formal. A staged performance. But their covenant was executed in a most unlikely manner. No papers. No pomp and pageantry. Informal as it can get. Simple and unplanned.

Just words true and sincere. Naked meanings spoken reverently while the world spun around them. A forthright agreement and quiet, awe struck confirmation. A promise, a commitment, a pledge that was not new but only remembered and renewed. Here was when they knew there can never be life without the other. That in fact, there was no life before the discovery of the other. Here was when they knew there was no letting go however hard they tried to.

Twas night then and they were in contemplative silence. Both were moved and amazed that something like that would happen. Not in that present time, not in the midst of what he called the harshest constraints. Their silence included a prayer for the consummation of their promise, the realization of their souls' fervent beseeching.

He was listening and stood as the lone witness to their vow.

Him who made everything possible and continue to do so. Him who perfectly understood what they shared. Him who sealed it for them for they are blinded by cynicism at times and their faith waver in the sight of plain reality. Him whom from the start made them for one another.

Fervent indeed their heart's desire and their soul's longing for to this day they continue to traverse the path cleared by their indubitable commitment that lead to the fulfillment of their covenant.

And the love, well last I heard, it just keeps getting better.

Tut to Ponder

There's always a deeper reason for the emotions you feel, the doubts you have, the questions you raise, and the fears you entertain.

It's called "Wanting it all."

What a system, huh?

Thoughts become things... choose the good ones! ®
© www.tut.com ®

Malu sent me this site that emails you "thoughts" in the frequency of your choice (I chose daily) as she said, "swak na swak ngay."

Check it out. So far, I agree with Malu's comment and it is worth your while.

After the main thought (like the one above) you are given a personal picker upper.

For the Record again

"I am an Igorot. Let me be treated as I deserve—with respect if I am good, with contempt if I am no good, irrespective of the name I carry. Let the term, Igorot, remain, and the world will use it with the correct meaning attached to it."

– Jose Dulnuan

The term Igorot include the ethno-linguistic groups of, the Bontoc, Ibaloi, Ifugao, Isneg, Kalinga, and the Kankana-ey. The Cordillera Region is their ancestral domain wherein the "politically correct " term Cordilleran was derived.

The Cordillera Region is made up of the provinces of Abra, Apayao, Benguet, Ifugao, Mt. Province, Kalinga and the cities of Baguio and Tabuk. Each ethno-linguistic group adhere to their own set of rituals and beliefs.

Igorots are different from Negritos and/or Aetas nor are they called Ilocanos.

Remember that.

For the Record

Let me just get this straight.

Baguio City is NOT the capital of Benguet Province, La Trinidad is.

The municipality of La Trinidad was labeled the Salad Bowl of the Philippines because the famous "Baguio vegetables" are actually cultivated there. Yes, even the strawberries, coffee and "Baguio walis" are all from Benguet.

The mislabeling of the produce being identified with Baguio is attributed to tourists who avail of the said goods in the famous Baguio City Market.

If you look at it, Baguio being more popular than its neighboring towns functions as the marketing arm.

The local government of Baguio and Benguet are distinct and separate. However, Baguio City is situated within the area of Benguet Province. You cannot enter Baguio City without passing through Benguet.

The earliest settlers in Baguio are the Ibalois not the Ilocanos. The Ibaloi (or Nabaloi) group is one of the two ethnolingual groups in Benguet the other is the Kankana-ey tribe. These two sub-tribes are included in the more general tribal group called Igorots.

The municipalities of Benguet are, Atok, Bakun, Bokod, Buguias, Mankayan, Tuba, Sablan, Kapangan, Kabayan, Kibungan, Tublay, Itogon, La Trinidad.

Suicide at Twelve

It has been said that poverty drove Mariannet, a 12 year old girl from Davao, to end her life.

The girl's hunger I dare say ate not only her stomach but also her heart and spirit. She was sapped of strength and the will to survive. It seems not even a glimmer of hope nor help was available. Nothing and no one, not even her family, inspired her to go on and fight.

I cannot begin to imagine the answers as to what gave her the fortitude and courage to choose death over life.