Mommy, Ipinatawag Ka!

Play by , | August 8, 2010

Tauhan:
Guro, lalake, 23, payat, Religion teacher.
Mommy, 39, manikurista na liberated at matalino.

Lugar:
Ang guro ay naghihintay sa Prefect of Discipline’s office. Siya ay nakaupo sa harap ng kanyang mesa. May crucifix sa nakasabit sa dingding at bookshelf sa kaliwa ng mesa.

Mother: (sisilip sa opisina) Ay! Ang cute! (lalapit sa guro at sisikaping maging pormal) Teacher, ano ba ang problema ng anak ko? Diyos ko! Nagmamadali pa naman akong pumunta dito, yung mga customers ko, iniwan ko pang basa ang mga kuko.

Teacher: Good afternoon, Mrs. de los Santos.

Mother: Ms. na lang po. Teacher,ano nang nangyari sa anak ko? mababa ba ang grades niya? Natutulog ba siya sa klase? Binubully ba siya o siya ang binu-bully? Binugbog mo ba siya o ikaw ang binugbog niya?

Teacher: Ma’am, relax lang po. Ahm…sit down, please. Can I offer you something? Coffee? Orange juice…

Mother: (Uupo) Masyadong pambata ang juice. Beer. Pwede ba ang beer dito? Ay! Oo. CATHOLIC SCHOOL. Sige, iced tea na lang (kukuha ang guro ng baso) Teacher! With ice.

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After Six

Nonfiction by | August 8, 2010

I went home today taking the long route. Traffic was bad and the trip had a lot of stops and turns along the way. I looked at people’s weary faces in the jeepney as they stared blankly at the traffic jam or in space.

I watched them and thought what could they be thinking at this hour of day. Perhaps they thought of the day’s events, summarizing it. Some of them,who were clad in corporate attire could possibly be thinking of end day’s rest at home, or the sumptuous meal waiting for them, or the company of family. Others seemed to be drowned in their thoughts not caring about what was happening at the moment.

Indeed, riding in a jeepney or bus would provoke reflection of what has been, what is, or what is to come. The idle time spent in travel gives us the chance to ponder the many aspects of our lives.

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Mater Dolorosa

Poetry by | August 8, 2010

(para kay Arsenia Acut)

Alam ko lang, magaling kang magparusa:
buong kumpol o ‘sang tingting ng walis
batay sa kasalanan, mas kaunti sa mas mabigat;
sampung sili, paisa-isa, nginunguya,
nilulunok sa bawat sagot at sumbat;
rosaryo ng mga luha’t pawis habang hinihintay
na malusaw ang bawat butil ng asin na niluluhuran
para sa mga away-bata, kaibigan man o kapatid;
pagkalula, pagkahilo mula sa pagkakabitin sa sako,
‘sang minuto sa bawat minuto ng paggala;
sampal, suntok, sabunot.

Noon pa man, malikhain ka na
sa pagdiretso sa lahat ng baluktot.
Ngunit ang alam ko lang,
magaling kang magparusa.
Kaya nauhaw sa pasa, bugbog, dugo, at kirot
itong bawat sulok ng aking katawan
noong tumahimik, tumalikod,
umiyak ka lamang.

Sa hapdi, hinukay ko ang aking libingan,
pumasok, namatay, at umahon, nabuhay
sa sakit na kinimkim mo sa iyong
dunong at galing sa pagpaparusa.

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Ang Gaba Dili Magsaba

Play by , | August 1, 2010

Characters:
Customer: 17 year-old girl
Saleslady: in her early 20’s

Setting: Shoe section of a department store. There is a life-sized mirror beside a bench. A cashier is located two meters away from the bench.

(Ang customer naga tan-aw sa mga naka-display.)

Customer: I’m gonna buy this na talaga! My friends also told me na this is so bagay sa gown ko. Gosh! I am gonna be the most beautiful debutante, ever! (Mitawag sa saleslady sa iyang tapad) Get a new pair of this sandal nga. I don’t like to try this, baka marami na kasing sumukat nito.

Saleslady: (Pugos nga ni ngisi) Okay ma’am. Hulat lang sa kadali ma’am ha. Tan-awon sa nako sa stock room.

Customer: Don’t make tagal-tagal ha. Ayaw ko ng pinapahintay.

(Nihawa ang saleslady. Naglingkod ang customer ug gikuha sa bag ang iyang press powder. Gibutang niya ang bag sa iyang tapad. Sige na tan-aw ang customer sa iyang relo kay dugay niabot ang saleslady.)

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Kabit

Play by , , | August 1, 2010

In a cafeteria two recent friends meet by chance. Ringgo, who is hard of hearing, has his hearing aid disconnected from his ear. Jords is a ‘ngo-ngo’ who seems to be confident in conversations despite his condition. He is waiting for his new girlfriend, Magda.

Ringgo: (sees Jords from afar and approaches him) Oy! Musta na man ka pre?

Jords: Aw, oki ra kaayo.

Ringgo: Abi ko’g wa na ka’y problema?

Jords: Mao gani. Wala na ko’y problema.

Ringgo: Unsa lagi tong problema preng?

Jords: Wala uy. Amaw.

Ringgo: Unsa man pud latest na balita sa imoha preng?

Jords: Mao japon, trabaho, trabaho.

Ringgo: Kinsa’y kamangon bay?

Jords: Samuka ba! Tarong ba!

Ringgo: Aw. Lamokon bitaw diri bay.

Jords: Wala’y lamok uy. Aircon man diri sa cafeteria. Mag-sige ra pud ka’g agree.

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Father Leaving

Poetry by | August 1, 2010

Your steps are heavy
like the baggage
you carry and drag
packed with uncertainties.
A flood of tears
drowns this blue hut
as you move out.
Your slouch suggests
how we will be missed
like your breakfast value meals,
the crisp of unpaid
water and electric bills,
the bittersweet song
of Totoy wailing for milk,
and the spicy blaspheming
of mother at your crucified God
for putting nothing
but salt in our rice.
I wonder how time
will fly without you
as you fly too
towards Saudi
where you will scrub toilet
bowls and urinals in exchange
for our bright future.
I wonder who will cradle
my face when my eyes turn
misty in times like this –
the way I have been meaning
to put this poem
out of its misery.

—-
Gino Dolorzo from Cagayan de Oro was a fellow at the Davao Writers Workshop this year.

Stares and Silences

Nonfiction by | July 25, 2010

I used to live in Tabon-Tabon, a remote barrio in Tandag — a place where people wake up early to the crowing of roosters and the coming of dawn. People here wash clay pots at a nearby well, chop logs for fire behind their homes, and carry shovels, rusted sickles, and enough food and water to last the whole day in the farm. Early each morning, men and some women walk in a ceremonial procession — a troop of farmers in layers of thick coats, torn jeans, boots, and mud-dried palm hats. Men drill ostentatiously on the narrow paths along irrigations to separate their own portion of rice land.

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Dakong Liki

Poetry by | July 25, 2010

Sa imong paglili,
napuno ko sa kakulba,
sa kanerbyos ug sa kabalaka.
basin kon makita mo
ining dako kong liki,
di na ko nimo undangan;
maganahan ka’g kulkog,
hangtod sa di na nimo lun-an.

Sa imong paggunit,
dyutay pangurog
ang akong nabati.
misamot sukad imong
gibasa ug gipaslakan
gamit ng gahi mong butang.
singot pay ako
di gayod mabangbang.

Sa imong pagduot,
kangulngol akong nabatian
gitusok mo ning
liki’g pinakalit,
Aguroy! Perte na lang gayod kasakit!
Uyog nganhi, uyog ngadto
Pastilan… Kalami!

Hay na lang dok, salamat,
naibot ra gyud ning ngipon
sa bungi.

—
Si Reymond estudyante sa Ateneo de Davao University.