Fellows of the 2014 Davao Writers Workshop

Events by | October 7, 2014

The Davao Writers Guild is pleased to announce the fellows of the 2014 Davao Writers Workshop.

Fiction
Andrea Isabelle Mejos (Davao)
Resty Bhoy B. Partoza (Davao)
Arjay N. Viray (Davao)
Reil Benedict S. Obinque (Davao)
Mark Lester Celozar (Davao)
Abigail James (CdO)

Creative Nonfiction
Jecia Anne Opiana (Davao)

Drama
Cayetano D. Polancos, Jr. (Davao)

Poetry
Vel Marie Santillan (CdO)
Hanna Regine Valencerina (Davao)
Michael Jude Tumamac (GenSan)
Neil Cervantes (Tagum)
Ria Valdez (Davao)
Clariza Morta Burdeos (Butuan)

The panelists this year are Dr. Macario D. Tiu, Jhoanna Lynn Cruz, Nino Soria de Veyra, John Bengan, Nikki Gomez, and special guest writer Daryll Delgado. Workshop director is Edmond Julian de la Cerna, assisted by Dom Cimafranca.

The 2014 Davao Writers Workshop is organized by the Davao Writers Guild in cooperation with the National Commission for Culture & the Arts and UP Mindanao, and will be held at Lispher Inn, Matina, Davao City, from October 27 to 31, 2014.

The workshop sessions are open to those interested to listen in and meet the writers.

Dear John, Part 1

Fiction by | October 5, 2014

For all of my life I want to be a girl. But not this way. Not in my birth certificate. Because of this mistake my trip to New Zealand is delay. We cannot married. But don’t worry. I follow up my papers always. Please wait for a little. We will soon be together. We will live happy ever after.

I’m sorry you spend too much money for me already. I don’t know that going abroad is very expensive and very meticulous. I know you are much money. Your pension is large and one dollar there in your country is thirty-six pesos here in my country. But I’m still shy to you. You shoulder all the expenses. Last year you even go here in the Philippines to see me because it is required, because your embassy said I’m not your partner because we only chat in the internet and we never meet personal. But after you go here and you go back to New Zealand…your embassy said to you again it’s not OK, I still cannot get a partner visa, visitor visa only.

Continue reading Dear John, Part 1

Marcotting

Poetry by | October 5, 2014

The untrained see
absurdity.
For the novice –
Secrets!
But he, he knows
how it feels, perhaps,
as he cuts ’round

limb and body.
Bleeding earth blood,
both remain
silent, pretending
blood is infinite,
the wound – fiction.
He covers it with earth.

He knows which
part of the limb
or body to wound.
Where precisely?
Near the heart,
where life
springs eternal.

The reason?
It’s marcotting, he says,
wounds are needed
to grow roots,
new ones,
which we wound again,
to grow more roots.

Cheese Sticks Boy

Poetry by | October 5, 2014

With his tactics
for surprise,
he jolted our nerves,
despite the glass between us
as he flashed
a face of full sunlight,
like a jack-in-the-box
with visage, brown
freshly painted
red blush, circled
on cheeks
which are dry
riverbed of tears,
which are wet
once the box of day
comes to a close:
just to sell sticks
wrapped in see-through
gold.

—
Amado Mahds Guinto, Jr teaches at the English Department in MSU-Iligan Institute of Technology, Iligan City. He is a fellow in the 21st Iligan National Writers Workshop. Aside from writing, he also dances and choreographs.

Ang Kinabuhi sa Usa ka Minyo

Play by , | September 28, 2014

Mga Magdudula:

Sarah – 25 anyos, dalaga

Myrna – 25 anyos, minyo

Hugna: Sa usa ka bar, naghulat si Sarah sa iyang barkada na si Myrna. Nagalingkod si Sarah sa ilang kanunayng puwesto, adunay lamesa sa tunga sa duha ka magkaatbang nga bangko. Naay duha ka menu sa lamesa. Alas otso ilang sabot apan mag alas otso y media na, wala lang gihapon si Myrna. Mga pipila ka minuto, miabot si Myrna.

MYRNA: Ganina ra ka ‘Day? (milingkod sa atbang ni Sarah) Sorry, I’m late. Nag-ilis pa kog lampin ni JR.

SARAH: (nikatawa) Lagi. Klaro man. Medyo nanimaho pa gani ka’g tae, Girl.

MYRNA: Tse! Suya lang ka. Buotan kayo ang akong JR uy kay natulog na gyud siya para makaadto na ko dinhi..

SARAH: Oh siya siya. Mag order sa daw ta noh.

MYRNA: Unsa man ni ilang menu uy. Puro man sad burger ug fries, klase-klase ray tawag. Maayo pa akong niluto sa balay.

SARAH: Char uy! Diha ka? Kanus-a pa ka natuon ug luto, girl?

Continue reading Ang Kinabuhi sa Usa ka Minyo

Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been

Fiction by | September 28, 2014

It was 3 AM when the Man-Who-He-Should-Have-Been entered the room. Maita was asleep on the couch, so Alfredo was alone to meet him.

“Hi,” Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been said.

“Hi, yourself. I guess it’s time.”

“Yes it is.”

Alfredo-Who-Was looked at Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been from head to toe. He was about 50, the same age as he. He had a slight paunch and his shoulders were a bit rounded. He had on a dark suit and his hair was combed neatly. Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been looked back at him. For a long time, they said nothing.

Continue reading Alfredo-Who-Should-Have-Been

Surviving Typhoon Bopha

Nonfiction by | September 28, 2014

In this world where we are living, challenges and obstacles are always present. Sometimes we ought to give up because of these challenges. No matter how difficult the situation is we should always remember what Albert Einstein said, Life is like a bicycle, to keep your balance you must keep moving. One year and 9 months ago I was trapped in a challenge I never thought would come in my life.

It was in the year two thousand and twelve on the fourth day of December, at exactly 4 o’clock in a Tuesday morning when a category 5 super typhoon took its landfall in a quiet town of Baganga, Davao Oriental. I could hear booms of the thunderstorms which I thought engines of trucks. I could see lightnings which I thought are coming from the cars of the people in the place. I could see nothing anymore but trees swaying from left to right and never stopping, houses ruined and families left with nothing.

Continue reading Surviving Typhoon Bopha

Digressions of a Die-hard Fan

Fiction by | September 21, 2014

This makeshift hospital bed is anything but comfortable. The foam is barely half an inch thick. I can feel the cold of the metal springs underneath it; they’re making my back go numb.

I scan the room for something pleasant to divert my attention to. Attached to the ceiling is a flashbulb that’s emitting this seizure-inducing orange light. All the walls have to offer are thin cracks that, if you look long enough without blinking as I’m doing now, seem to be interconnected. They look like the red veins that decorate a peeled balut.

That reminds me, I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. Fasting for a whole twenty four hours is supposed to be integral to a successful operation. I tried to compensate by drinking lots of water but my body’s just not used to this sort of deprivation. I’m craving for rice. Any ulam would do. I just really miss stuffing my mouth with spoonfuls of rice.

I let out a sigh.

So much for a pleasant diversion.

Continue reading Digressions of a Die-hard Fan