Sometimes on the Road to Kidapawan

Poetry by | April 22, 2012

Long have I been loving to love
a nameless, whose face remains
faceless amidst all attempts
of masking her the looks of every
leading lady in the romance movies
I so dearly enjoy in the afternoons
when there is nothing better to do but
to pretend to love, be loved, to imagine.
This is also one reason why I’d like
to travel home to Kidapawan.

In the van, I like it when I lean
on my own shoulder, thinking
it was your breath wafting on
my skin as I imagine you
sleeping, while I look farther, until I
forget you because of the rubber trees
and the occasional drizzles of Makilala,
the signals of the proximal embrace
of a mother, perhaps, or an old friend,
or of our high school memories
of little fondness. And there, memories!

Ah, another reason why I love
to travel home to Kidapawan.
The nearer I get, the clearer
you appear, smiling.

Slowly, I remember your name.

—
Paul Randy Gumanao is BS Chemistry graduate of Ateneo de Davao University who loves words the way he loves elements.

Ang Manggagamot

Fiction by | April 15, 2012

Sa loob ng silid gamutan ni Manong Jose, na kung saan naliliwanagan lang ito ng iilang kandila at maliliit na ilaw.

“Anong maitutulong ko sa’yo, iha?” tanong ni Jose sa dalaga niyang pasyente.

“Ano kasi, Manong, ilang linggo na ‘tong tiyan ko na sumasakit. Tapos nung pinatingnan ko po ito sa doktor, eh wala naman daw silang nakikitang masama sa’king tiyan—ayon sa kanilang pagsusuri. Pinainom lang nila ako ng gamot na pampaalis daw ng sakit, pero hanggang ngayon hindi pa rin natatanggal ang sakit. Naabala na tuloy ang trabaho ko. Ilang araw na akong hindi pumapasok dahil dito,” salaysay ng dalaga kay Jose.

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Davao Belongs to Us All

Nonfiction by | April 15, 2012

A city is like a coin. It has two faces: one shows the head; the other, the tail. The head is what the tourists like. It’s number one in their itinerary. The tail they hardly visit. Or if they happen to visit it at all, perhaps it’s by accident. Maybe they got lost. Maybe it’s a necessary passage, an unavoidable route that they have to take, to get to their actual destination. Either way, it’s out of the plan. Tourists, foreigners, and Filipinos alike, hardly visit a city to see both faces, unless he happens to be a UN Special Rapporteur mandated to gaze at both head and tail.

Davao City is no different. It has two faces. One is beautiful; the other, ugly. One is serene; the other, noisy. One is hospitable; the other, hostile.

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Awit ni Schamsia

Poetry by | April 8, 2012

Sa Afghanistan mahigpit na ipinagbabawal
ng grupong Taliban sa mga kababaihan
ang pumasok sa paaralan upang mag-aral.

Ang sinumang sumuway sa patakarang ito
ay tahasang pinaparusahan sa pamamagitan
ng pagliligwak ng asido sa mukha.

Nobyembre 2008.
Pinili kong idiin ang lapis
Kaysa magkuskos ng dungis.
Magbuklat ng mga aklat
Kaysa magsulsi ng hijab.
Magsaliksik sa pali-paligid
Kaysa mag-igib lagi ng tubig.
Nais ko lamang ipabatid
Babae man ay may himig:
Makaniig ang lawak ng kaalaman,
Maglinang ng sariling kapasyahan,
Kaya lusawin man ng asido
Ang buo kong pagkatao
Iluluwal ng kaluluwa ko’y pangarap
Na susuhay sa dalisay na hinaharap
At magbibinhi ng karunungang
Magpapalaya sa aking angkan.

(hijab- katagang Arabiko na nangangahulugang kurtina o di kaya’y belo na pantakip sa mukha ng mga kababaihang Muslim)

—
Edgar Bacong studied AB Sociology at the Ateneo de Davao University, and now lives in Zurich, Switzerland.

Homecoming

Fiction by | April 8, 2012

Nagising ako. Nanibago ako sa oras. Sinilip ko ang wall clock. Alas-tres ng umaga. Tahimik ang buong bahay ngunit di ako payapa.

Itinodo ko ang ikot ng electric fan at itinutok sa akin. Muli akong nahiga. Ipinikit ko ang aking mga mata. Alam kong ayoko nang bumalik sa pagtulog.

Ito ang unang umaga ko sa bahay namin nang ako ay mag-Saudi tatlong taon na ang nakalipas.

“Nagmata na man lagi ka,” narinig ko ang boses ni Mama. “Sayo pa kaayo”.

Kilang-kilala pa rin niya ako. Alam niyang gising ako kahit nakapikit.

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Wedding Disaster Made in Heaven

Nonfiction by | April 8, 2012

Wedding disasters make the best stories. When perfection is usually the goal, glitches in whatever form make up the bride’s worst nightmares. It all started when we wanted to hold our wedding in Camiguin, an idyllic island province off northern Mindanao. To get there from our hometown of Davao City, one may opt for the 50-minute plane ride or the 10-hour road trip to the port of Cagayan de Oro City from which one takes a 2-hour ferry ride to get to the island. Neither Jun nor I are from Camiguin. Ours is a tumultuous relationship replete with adventure, clashing wills, travels, betrayal, and passion. Thus, when we finally decided to take the plunge into matrimony, this island born of fire beckoned to us because it somehow represented who we are and what we have been through. Camiguin is home to several volcanoes and has remained resilient in the face of destructive eruptions. Jun and I have been to Camiguin once and we were promptly enchanted by its rugged beauty that called to our sense of adventure and love of nature. Plus, such a far-flung venue ensured that only the truly important people in our lives would make the effort to celebrate our sacramental union.

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Ang Akong Manicure

Play by , | April 1, 2012

SFX: Fade in radio program in Bisaya.

Bebeth is sitting in front of a washbasin. There are clothes in the basin, but piles of them are still beside her. She stands up to hang some clothes. She sits. She stares at the laundry. She stands up. She sits again. She does the laundry. She is trying to wash off a stain on a shirt. She stares at her laundry. She strikes the clothes angrily.

Fade out radio program.

Bebeth (shouts) PISTING YAWA NING ANIMAL NING KINABUHIA NI!(Whispers to herself)

Ay, naa ba ang mga bata diri, basin nakadungog?

YAWA GYUD! YAWA! Kanus-a pa man ni matanggal ning mga mantsaha ni, maski unsaon ug kusu-kuso, lubag-lubag, baliktad-baliktad, bleach-bleach, naa pay Xonrox na mulubad gihapon, unsaon! Dili gyud ka matanggal ha?!

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Ang Kubal sa Kamot ni Mama

Poetry by | April 1, 2012

Akong mama naghigda sa sopa,
Singot murag gitanom na mga yamog sa iyang ilong
Tungod sa kainit sa hapon,
Ang iyang hagok naga-away sa syagit
Sa tigbaligya og taho sa gawas
Iyang kamot nagagunit gihapon sa silhig,
Pati sa iyang damgo walay undang og silhig.

Gitanggal nako ang silhig sa iyang kamot
Unya akong mga tudlo nagahilot sa iyang palad,
Ang kubal sa iyang kamot bagnol sa akong panit.
Pangutana nako mama,
Ma, gipanalipdan ba aning kubal ang imong mga kamot
Kadtong si papa, nakit-an nato
Ginakiyod atong silingan sa inyong kwarto
Unya imo siyang gisagpa-sagpa
Hantod iyang nawong maspula pa sa akong regla?
O Kadtong hubog si papa, nagmaoy,
Gusto ko kulatahon
Kay sige ko hilak, dili ko molingkod sa iyang paa
Unya gikumot nimo iyang buhok,
Gilabay nimo siya sa basurahan didto gawas sa balay?
O kadtong nilayas na si Papa,
Ikaw na tigluto didto sa karinderya ni Manang Marla,
Ikaw na tigbaligya sa mga kendi ni Manong Oli,
Ikaw na tiglaba sa mga panti og bra ni Manang Marla?
Ma, gipanalipdan ba aning kubal ang imong mga kamot?

Wala ni-abri ang mga mata ni mama
Pero iyang baba abri,
Hagok maslalom pa sa balon,
Og iyang kubalong kamot,
Nisirado sa akong kamot,
Dili mobuhi.
Mao ang tubag niya sa akong mga pangutana.

—
Glyd Jun Arañes is a research assistant of the Philippine Women’s College of Davao. He was a fellow at the 2011 Davao Writers Workshop and the 2010 ADDU Writers Workshop.