(This is a continuation of my previous post. Sorry for the overwhelming length of this post. This week was too interesting to leave behind unblogged. Cheers! -Ludwig)
February 1, 2012—it was 3:30 in the afternoon, and everyone in the hall was already pretty restless. We have been sitting there in the Baluarte Function Hall for no less than 2 hours already and there was still no indication that it was going to start. I looked around. Everyone seems bummed out, yet, still expectant. Though it was the Siglat Eskwela Awards Program, where the Program Government ofIlocos Sur gets the chance to acknowledge all the students and teachers who have brought the name of Ilocos Sur into the limelight, I was almost sure during that time, everyone stayed only for just one thing: the cash incentives that are given alongside the recognition. I’d be no hypocrite; I knew I needed the cash more than the recognition. But boy was I fidgety.
 |
| Finally got to stand for the Pambansang Awit after more than 3 hours of waiting. Sheesh. Filipinos. |
It could’ve been easier to just wait… unfortunately, going through the excruciatingly protracted waiting process while battling with two other demons was almost unbearable. First off, my stomach cramping from the other day still won’t stop; and second, my Dad, out of the blue, decided to confront me with matters regarding my plans of resignation and liberation from their tender, loving watch.
Here’s the funny thing about my Dad: he’s the type who doesn’t about things that displease. If you dissatisfy in any way, all you usually get is the silent treatment; and the matter that caused his dissatisfaction? Usually gone forever, like the northern winds that head off as the calendar leaves start to fall off. It must have been hard for him to keep it all to himself, mainly because I decided not to tell him my plans for the upcoming months. Imagine my surprise when he opened up this topic.
“Son, why don’t you stay for a while longer,” he started. I was petrified, totally taken aback by this opening statement. I didn’t know what to respond with. “Uhh,” I stammered. That was it—there’s no turning back.
He started talking about his fears… that Manila could be totally unforgiving and that I may not be able to make it through the jungle out there. “What if you’ll get mugged? Or what if you won’t be able to wake up early in the morning to maintain your job?” His thoughts trailed off to several other concerns—some understandable, and to some extend considerable; others, just plain disturbing and irrational.
Then, he began to offer me another option.
“If you do not like to work in here and all you’re after is the experience, why not just apply at the Regional Medical Training Center at Agoo, La Union? At least, we would be more assured of your safety in there…”
“Whoa… whoa… wait Papa,” I stopped him from going further. “Papa, I am not going to work in La Union.” I scoffed at his suggestion. Me? Work in La Union without the slightest possibility of getting a good graduate education from a reputable university? Live in the southernmost part of La Union without the constant company of the people I’m supposed to stay with to ensure my complete safety? No way Jose.
I thought: if I’m going to take some risks, I’m going to have to take it all the way. I know that eventually, the time will come when I will have to do away with all the comforts of staying with my parents and family so I could learn how to live on my own, decide for myself… be independent.
“Papa, I want to work in Manila,” I muttered in a decisive tone that even made me uneasy. My Dad kept quiet and a long, awkward silence ensued. Probably, I took my stride towards independence too far?
“The next certificate of recognition is awarded to Jan Briane Fabie Astom for having been the 10th placer in the National Licensure for Nurses…” when I finally heard my name blast through those speakers, I stood up, and scurried forward with head straight up. When I finally did an about-face, I could see my old man at the side-lines, beaming proudly at me. As soon as the photo ops were over, I went back to our place as soon as I could. I couldn’t look at him at first, but he first broke the awkward silence.
“Yeah, we’re going to have to discuss those matters with your mama.” For a few minutes, we just sat there, watching the program unfold. I was looking at him through the corner of my eye, hoping he would give some sort of signal for an amicable closure. Suddenly, he stood up, silently exited, and motioned me to follow his lead.
And that was the big step I took in my never-ending quest for that elusive independence. I may still have a few more years to prove that this particular had been more of a boon than a bane, but at least I didn’t get to play the submissive son yet again, much unlike the role I have played five years ago when I was stuck in the same predicament.
Yeah, that, and we took an exciting trip to the Kannawidan Trade Fair later that evening. Those Ilocos Norte empanadas sure were yummy!
 |
| Pompous or just plain stupid? Tipsy with "empanada"-induced ecstasy. |
February 3, 2012—this was the day that I got my vindication from the terrible loss that we suffered last year during the Kannawidan Quiz Bee. Questions about Ilocos Sur’s history, culture, traditions, and geography, were hurled against us at breakneck speed that we almost couldn’t catch up. By some stroke of luck, however, we managed to garner 2nd place. However, we lost by a mere two points, an inconsolable circumstance that initiated my yearning to reclaim what could have been easily ours, had it not been for some injudicious guesstimates.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t, for the obvious reason that I had to graduate for the same year.
Luckily, my brother still has 3 years in college, so I deemed it just right to pass on to him the mission to settle some unfinished business with the State U guys for the top prize in the Kannawidan Quiz Bee.
Armed with barely two days of sporadic review periods that concurred with the review for midterm examinations, my brother—together with his friend, Kim Tagorda—set out to win the challenging task ahead of them. It wasn’t any easier for them this year. The organizers of the Kannawidan festival thought that to be truly faithful to the essence of the festival, all the events should be conducted in Ilocano. The Quiz Bee wasn’t spared. The guidelines and questions were in Ilocano, thus aggravating the encumbrance that was their lack of preparation. At first, it seemed that it was a fight decidedly in favor of the odds.
Apparently, the odds switched sides on the last minute. My brother’s team won the top prize, and I finally got the sweet vindication I have been anticipating for over a year now!
VICTORY IS OURS! *insert evil laugh here*
 |
| The 2012 Kannawidan Quiz Bee College Category champions! |
February 4, 2012—The Kannawidan Festival, though it be full of fun and excitement, should always have a termination at some point. The entire week was interesting as it is; full of the vibrancy that is genuinely Iloco. What better way, then, to end the week than a musical treat from “dayos” (visitors)?
The program was supposed to start at 6:30 pm. We gave leeway to the so-called “Filipino time”, that is why we decided to go to Plaza Salcedo at 7:15 pm. To our great surprise, the program hasn’t even started yet when we arrived. We then decided to visit the trade fair to kill some time. It was 8:45 pm when we came back to Plaza Salcedo… and still no sign of starting. We figured out that since we came all the way just to hear some good music, we could hang out for a little while longer. Good music is always worth the wait.
It was already 9:30 pm. I was already fuming. Somehow, my innards cannot take the waiting time they are having us endure. When I couldn’t take it any longer, I called my companions to stage a walk-out. Feeling as annoyed as I was, they decided to follow my lead.
By some sort of serendipity, we stopped by a pearl shake booth before we could finally head out of Plaza Salcedo. As we were waiting for our pearl shakes, a man suddenly started speaking through the microphone. “So it has begun,” I thought. I looked at my watch. It was 10 pm. “And about time too.”
Considering that it was already getting late, we decided watch only the first act. It consisted of a guitar and cello ensemble playing OPM Classics, like Ernani Cuenco’s “Nahan” and “May Bukas Pa”. The cello’s rich tone seeped through every disturbed human soul that was in the Plaza that night. I couldn’t help but shudder every time the cello goes down to its lower register, with a haunting timbre that somehow manages to give me Goosebumps. The guitar, though not as audible as the cello, accompanied the cello’s flowing melodic line with an equal elegance. The ensemble’s harmonies floated through Vigan’s night air, slowly lulling our disturbed personas into a state of trance. During those moments, within the duration of about five numbers, I was carried to another dimension. It was sublime.
It’s just too bad that not everyone appreciated this form of art. Some found it boring and dreary, probably expecting some grandiose production that would rock the stage. I felt bad, knowing that the ensemble might have worked hard to give us a quality performance that night. Well, I guess such refinement really cannot cater to the taste of everybody.
As for me, it was the perfect way to end a very interesting week. Despite the exhilarating joyride we underwent this week, everything boils down to some mellow music that calmed the deepest core of my being, soothing every searing pain that may have been caused by let-downs—and further elating my spirit that rejoices in all the glory that was received.
Everything was worth the wait.
 |
| People from all walks of life gathered at Plaza Salcedo to enjoy the final nights of the Kannawidan Festival. |
0 comments:
Post a Comment