Personal na Pamamaalam

Mahal na Rene:

Ang saya-saya kahapon, 'no? Panalo ang burol mo: kakaiba, nakakaaliw, nakakabaliw. Parang ikaw. At aminin mo, panalo din ang hinandog naming parangal sa iyo, ha? Sabi nga ni Luna pagkatapos, parang bi-polar ang mga taga TELON at Writers Bloc noong oras na 'yon. Sa isang sandali, halos mapapahikbi, mapapaluha, mapapangawa kami. Tapos, bigla-biglang may hihirit, may magbibitiw ng punchline, at mapapatawa kami. O 'di ba, hanep sa shift?

Tulad ng emcee natin, si Nick. Aba, mga lima, anim na beses yata siyang napahinto sa kanyang monologue dahil pinipigil niyang sarili niya na huwag umiyak. Pinipigil ang sarili na huwag maging Charito Solis ang pagluluksa. Pero ayaw mo no'n, 'di ba? Gusto mo Lolita Rodriguez ang drama: tahimik, poised, pero powerful. Pero si Nick being Nick, kailangang may malutong na one-liner. Hindi lang isa, kundi dalawa, tatlo, apat, lima. At syempre, ano'ng magagawa ng madla kundi tumawa nang tumawa? I'm sure nabigla ang mga kapitbahay mo sa Sanctuarium sa ingay: Ano ba 'to, funeral hotel o comedy/sing-a-long bar?

Siyempre, ang mga ibang nag-testimonial, naki-standup na rin. Si Jun, na ang huling sinabi niya'y ang huling sinabi mo doon sa burol ni Charley noon: na lahat ng mga iskrip naming pangit, isasama sa paglibing mo. Pero naku, Rene, kilala kita: mumurahin mo kami pag ginawa namin 'yon: "Hoy, mga punyeta! Huwag niyong itambak ang mga letseng iskrip ninyo dito! 'Di ko kailangan 'yan! Peperwisyuhin niyo pa ako, patay na nga ako!" Tapos 'yung mga kasama mo sa TELON. Sina Joey at Luna. Sina Ipat at Tim. Si Dennis, na sinabihin mo nito na: "You'll be famous, but you'll never be great!" Classic. Sina Allan at Lallie, na siguro matagal nang nag-shift sa Forestry course noon kung hindi mo siya naimpluwensyahan. Si Anna.

At dahil parang comedy/sing-a-long bar ang feel ng tribute, may mga kantahan din, salamat kina Rody--in full Sister Stella L./"Manggagawa" mode, ha--at Niel, na feel na feel ang kinanta niya, with matching gestures. At syempre, hindi mawawala ang mga excerpted readings mula sa mga ilang dula mo. May Isang Sundalo. Hiblang Abo. Walang Himala.

Sa mga oras na 'yon, hindi ko rin maiwasang maalala ka, maalala ang naging relasyon ko sa iyo: saan at kailan nagsimula (1993 o 1994, sa dating opisina ng PETA sa Little Baguio, San Juan; mga disinuebe o bente anyos ako no'n), kung paano tayo nakikitungo sa isa't isa. Katulad ng karamihan, naging mahalagang impluwensya ka sa akin bilang isang manunulat. Paano naman hindi, 'di ba? Pero may ikukumpisal ako: ako lang siguro ito, pero may suspetsa ako na hindi gano'ng kataas ang pagtingin mo sa akin bilang mandudula, sa kakayahan kong lumikha ng drama. Hindi naman kita masisisi do'n: madalang akong magsulat ng dula at magpabasa sa Bloc. Hindi mo naman gusto ang mga naisulat ko. Sa katunayan, sabi mo nga sa akin pagkatapos mong panoorin ang First Snow of November: "Napaka-melodramatic. Parang high school." Obviously, hindi rin ako nakatakas sa matalas mong dila. Pero OK lang, sinanay mo naman ako pagdating diyan. At nakita ko naman ang punto mo.

Ganunpaman, dama ko ang pagrespeto mo sa akin: bilang mandudula, bilang kapwa kasapi ng Writers Bloc, bilang kaibigan. Galing sa iyo, malaking bagay 'yon. Kahit ang dami mo nang nakamit na parangal sa larangan ng panitikan, pantay ang pagtrato mo, hindi lang sa akin, kundi sa mga iba nating mga kaibigan sa grupo.

Malungkot man ako na wala ka na, hindi kong maiwasang makaramdam ng konting kasiyahan. Bakit? Dahil nakuha mo na ang gusto mo. Matagal ka nang handang tumawid sa kabila. Matagal ka nang nasa departure area. Wala ka nang kailangang patunayan. Hindi ka na mahihirapan sa kalusugan mo. Sa loob ng limampu't tatlong taon ay marami kang napaiyak, napatawa, napaisip, napahanga, napamangha sa mga sinulat mo. Iilan lang ang kayang tapatan ang mga nagawa mo sa buhay. May ipagyayabang ka talaga. Ang hindi mo lang maipagyayabang ngayon siguro ay ang katawan mo. Abo ka na, 'no?

Maraming, maraming salamat, Rene: sa mga aral, sa respeto, sa tulong, sa pagkakaibigan. Bumaba man ang telon sa entablado ng buhay mo, tuloy pa rin ang pagtatanghal ng alaala mo sa aming mga isipan. Ikamusta mo na lang ako kay Charley, ha? Sigurado akong marami kayong pagkukuwentuhan, at magdamagan 'yan. Labindalawang taon yata na kayo hindi nagkikita. Mag-enjoy ka diyan, saan ka man.

Nagmamahal,
Alvin

Rene at Rest

RENATO OCAMPO VILLANUEVA

(22 September 1954 - 5 December 2007)

I last saw him last night, inside Room 234 of the Philippine Heart Center's Medical ICU. When I saw him, I thought my heart would break. I refuse to describe what I saw; he does not deserve the indignity, the pity. But he did deserve company, and that he had last night. His beloved mother, his siblings. His former wife, their daughters. His former playwriting pupils turned friends--Rollie dela Cruz, Nicolas Pichay, Liza Magtoto, Job Pagsibigan, myself. He is that loved, that treasured.

His body may have finally failed him, but the masterpieces that sprang from his head, from his imagination--they remain so alive: Kumbersasyon. Hiblang Abo. May Isang Sundalo. Huling Gabi sa Maragondon. Ang Unang Baboy sa Langit. Nemo, ang Batang Papel. Kuwento ni Malinis. Botong. Kalantiaw. Watawat. Walang Iwanan. What a stunning legacy that he will leave behind.

Enjoy that rest you have so earned, Rene. You deserve it, my mataray mentor, my friend.

A Dozen Dramatists Get "De-virginized"

"Baldagyi Hatipoglu" first wrote about it. Gibbs Cadiz later publicized it in his blog, as did Ian Casocot. Medyo nakakahiya naman kung hindi ko rin ipa-plug ito, lalo na't directly involved ako dito last year. But let me try a different approach:





First row, left to right: Séance's Auggie Arcenas, Sa Pagdating ng Barbaro's Rogelio Braga, Ellas Inocentes' Layeta Bucoy. Second row, left to right: Kung Pwede Sanang Ipagpalit ang Tatay's James Cansanay, Mga Obra ni Maestra's Niel de Mesa, My Padir is an OCW's George Vail Kabristante. Third row, left to right: Kasaysayan's Allan Lopez, May Bumubulong's Job Pagsibigan, Teroristang Labandera's Debbie Ann Tan. Fourth row, left to right: Bagahe and Pobreng Alindahaw's J. Dennis Teodosio, Kuyom's Argel Tuason, Bertdey ni Guido's Rene O. Villanueva. Not pictured: Three Unsent Letters' Arlo de Guzman and Looking for Darna's Lani Montreal. (Photos of Braga, Bucoy, Pagsibigan, Teodosio and Tuason are courtesy of Tanghalang Pilipino and photographer Arney Nucom.)

Watch the works of more than a dozen playwrights get, as Madonna's "Like A Virgin" puts it, touched for the very first time onstage in the third edition of Tanghalang Pilipino and the Writers Bloc, Inc.'s Virgin Labfest beginning this Thursday, June 28 and running until July 8. Tickets are priced at a very reasonable P200. For details, call Tanghalang Pilipino at 832-3661 or visit www.virginlabfest.com.

All About My Madder

I first met her almost six years ago in Dumaguete, as a co-fellow in the National Writers Workshop that year. As the oldest, she became our batch’s designated secondary guardian, looking after us and facilitating communication with the locals as our interpreter, since she’s a bonafide Cebuana (“Banilad, highway ra!”). As far as I can remember there wasn’t a time when we didn’t sit beside each other during our workshop sessions, exchanging comments, exchanging bits and pieces about each other. Studied Economics at UP. Finished Mass Comm at St. Joseph’s College. Took up Law at Ateneo. Attending Creative Writing classes at UP. Married to her only boyfriend. Have been writing for some time. Just started writing recently.

We continued to meet up after the workshop, especially since I’m just a short tricycle ride away from her cozy pad. She would often invite me to come over for snacks or for a round of two of Guesstures, sometimes with her husband and our mutual friend Germaine, and other times with her “cre-w” or friends from her church. Such fun times. But there were times we would spend our time just talking. About what? Our MA classes. Our classmates and professors. Our time in Dumaguete (and later on, in Baguio too: we became co-fellows again at the UP workshop two years after we met). The books we’ve read. Her family. My persistent doubts about my competence to write creatively. Our frustrations as writers. The unopened books in her shelves, gathering dust, waiting to be read.

As one would expect of friends, we support each other’s writing efforts, through our struggles with the demands of the craft. And we applaud each other when we got recognized by our peers. I was very happy for her when the first story she ever published won an important prize almost four years ago. And she returned the sentiment two years later when a play of mine clinched an award in another literary competition. In fact, she was one of the selected few I had personally informed of the good news when I received that cherished letter.

As I write this, she’s in Cebu, enjoying the company of her parents, her siblings and especially her husband, who’s the complete opposite of the husbands she had depicted in her fiction, fiction that one of our former professors has described as “exquisite.” Anyone who has read her work knows how deserving she is of that praise. If you’re reading this, Madder, rest easy, relax and try to write (Kapal ko ‘no? Lord knows I should also tell myself that.).

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MADDER. Remember, your age now is the new twenty. Ü