Anyway, last Saturday afternoon, my two daughters Pia and Pep — and 36 other classmates — finally did their recital at the Madrigal Center for Social Entrepreneurship at the Ateneo de Naga University. It went quite smoothly, except for a little snafu at the beginning (a little past lunch) that ruffled some feathers at the nearby Ignatian House.

Lead workshop facilitator Jobert Narvadez, and Julma, too, should be proud of the outcome nonetheless. The weather cooperated well — with rainclouds massing to the south, I thought it would rain towards the end but fortunately it did not. I took some photos and video footages — using a Sony DCR-HC40 — of the occasion, but is still having trouble downloading them to my PC, mainly because of the Firewire thing.

Which made me pine all the more for that Nokia N73, which remains a little pricey.:) But I will get there, at one point in time.

Let’s savor together what I think are the choicest cuts:

By the time Kristian Cordero’s name was announced as 2006 Madrigal-Gonzalez Best First Book Award winner, everyone at the Claro M. Recto Hall knew that the awarding was to be an event of many firsts. It was the first time a volume of poetry won. It was the first time a trilingual book won. It was the first time a book published by a small press won…

A hush fell over the Recto Hall as Cordero related moments of creativity in the face of the storm battering the region. Mga Tulang Tulala: Piling Tula sa Filipino, Bikol at Rinconada, then, is a testament not only to the emerging success of Bikol literature but also to the artist’s ability to triumph over the external life in the face of the most heart-wrenching of circumstances…

The unanimous decision of the 2006 judges bodes well for Bikol literature and writing from the regions in general….

As I wrote Kristian many fortnights ago: “Ma-o talaga a taga-Rinconada!” My heartfelt congratulations.:)

UPDATE (6:02pm): Want another proof that blogging is helping power this renaissance? As I was furiously composing the above, little did I know that Kristian (who I have yet to meet in person) has been here at Koko Café all along — until I asked him, noting that the photo I nicked bears a striking resemblance to the young man in sandals who is leisurely enjoying the free WiFi in this joint.

Photo nicked from Kristian’s blog

It was only around 7:30pm yet the edifice is already full up to the brim, peopled by local cockfighting enthusiasts from all walks of life: there are those who came in their SUVs, cars and pickup trucks; many through their scooters and motorbikes; and the lesser-off onboard passenger jeepneys (PUJs) that have converted one side of the road as their parking area.

To my shock, when I came back to the city center early this morning to deposit my wife and eldest at Cam High — it was only around 10 minutes past 6am — the place is still full of life, although a number of enthusiasts are already lumbering their way to the awaiting PUJs with shoulders drooping, while some have the sprightly bounce in their steps.

A week ago, I texted Mike and Grace in their popular afternoon program over RMN-DWNX that only four days after Reming pummelled the city, the sports arena is already operating. “Grabeng pagtubod ki San Pedro!” I said in an attempt to humor the two.

But Grace, who I assume is not an aficionado (I have yet to see a woman paying homage to the Catholic saint most associated with this bloody sport), curtly dismissed my remark, even rationalizing that the local bolangeros probably turned to cockfighting to make money and rebuild their homes.

Which made me realize — being a daily passerby of the sports arena — that cockfighting is actually a second religion to this particular segment of local society, more powerful if not of equal footing with their mostly catholic faith. Day in and day out they come without fail whenever there is a cockfighting event, analogous to the traditional day of worship of the regular faithful; the kristos serve as the high priests in their rituals which, today, lasted until the well into early morning: all in the greater glory of the God of Luck.

If somebody can point me to a definitive study into the sociology and psychology of the Filipino cockfighting aficionado, and into this fascinating phenomenon, I will be most grateful.

Our guest was Dr. Patrick Riordan, a member of the Irish Province of the Society of Jesus, who talked on “Power and Charter Change: Control or Tyranny?” last night at the Madrigal amphitheatre at the Ateneo de Naga University.

My difficulties notwithstanding, he essentially pointed out the danger of pursuing systemic change which, he said, must always be viewed with the worst-case scenario in mind, when everything else fails. This is a very critical point that had been conveniently swept under the rug in the reckless drive for charter change — first via the people’s initiative route, then lately the rushed constituent assembly attempt by the House leadership; a failed power grab, says Manolo Quezon — that the Arroyo administration and its allies has been foisting on the nation.

In his concluding remarks, Riordan — who teaches political philosophy at Heythrop College, University of London and is on his fifth visit to the Philippines — asks: Are the benefits to be achieved through charter change so great that they are worth the threat to stability and predictability that any change would entail?

The affable Irishman reminded me of what David Ellis, a classmate at Cambridge, said when I first told him about the effort to change the Philippine system of government from parliamentary to presidential. David, who once worked as a housing manager in a local authority outside London before deciding to give graduate work a stab after retirement, is fed up with the apparent limited choice under the British parliamentary system. Hence, he cannot understand why Filipinos would want to give away their right to directly choose their leaders. (As things stands though, as shown by the recent unfolding events, only the House leadership and their ilk want to give it away, and in the process control everything.)

Riordan essentially echoed the same thing, pointing out that UK’s strength is also its weakness: the absence of a bill of rights, of a written constitution, and a deficient separation of powers under a parliamentary system can easily degenerate into tyranny — shades of V for Vendetta. Only an operative culture to pursue the common good has prevented it from happening.

That kind of culture underpinning an effective parliamentary system is what the Philippines lack at the time being. What will prevent the same defects — which charter change is envisioned to cure — to arise again and again, when the flaws are actually in the people themselves? the elusive Platonian quote (as I recalled it) said in a perfect windup.

And so it is not yet appropriate for the country, Riordan finally said when coaxed by Vice Mayor Gabby Bordado about the bottomline of his lecture.

For this, let me yield to Dave Bercasio’s most recent post, which is about a carpetbagging presidential son, a former congressman who sold out his district, and the main sponsor of the failed con-ass measure who cobbled up the whole thing.

Oragon?

The renowned Bicolano historian Prof. Danilo Gerona once wrote about Oragon as a virtue. A word, in which Bicolanos are known and are associated with outside of the Region. But while the word would most of the times (since at times it would have a negative connotation) bring pride to us Bicolanos, it is being endangered today.

In the first district of Camarines Sur, the oragon politicians and political families gave a new meaning to oragon by offering the seat as the district representative to the presidential son, Dato Arroyo in golden platter, with all the garnishments at the sides (this is how one businessman describes the situation). What the Andayas and their allies did was to invite Dato to run for Congress and offer not to run against him. They said that having Dato as Congressman would ensure that benefits from Malacañang will surely flow to the district. I say that they are not of thinking anything else but themselves. What development? For whom?

For them. They think that to be oragon is to be able to create a situation wherein one could amass great wealth, and at this time, by making Dato run for Congress.

Echoing a sentiment from a punong barangay from the 1st district, this will go down in history that our politicos sold out the 1st district to the monied and the powerful non-bicolano. More painfully, it will be a stigma that will rob our young of the pride of being Bicolanos!

This is also TraPo at the highest level. A politics of patronage and not of platforms, character, capacities and track record.

But the fight is far from over, though. Some groups are now going around the 1st district to talk to capable and promising individuals to stand up against this blunder. We hope to stage One Big Fight inspired by the story of David and Goliath.

By the way, if we don’t do anything now, congressmen from Albay may in 2010 sell-out some districts to Luli Arroyo or Mike Arroyo.

If you have thoughts on this, and if you know of persons whom you think we can ask to run against Dato, please send me an email at dbercasio@gmail.com or post it as a comment.

Image nicked from www.returningsoldiers.us

My bubbly daughter Pep — my “Panaginip”-singing ‘pusong mamon’ of a daughter — was fuming mad when Reming unroofed the multipurpose center of our little subdivision, which is located right in front of our house. “Our tambayan is gone,” she rued. “We don’t have a place to play anymore.”

But the darkness that took away the TV, the Playstation 2 and the DVD player has forced her, sister Pia and their playmates to improvise. Now, during evenings, I hear them doing school programs — where vocal solos and dance numbers are common fare — that sounded much too familiar, because in my elementary days, when my teachers get tired of delivering their lessons, this is what they ask us to do as they rest for their second wind.

As a result, Deal or No Deal‘s loss became female bonding’s gain. Technology’s unscheduled outage has strengthened the social ties that bind childhood friends. And I believe our little community is all the better because of it.

Which makes me pine for the days of my youth when I and my childhood friends from Pili and Minalabac would drink the night away, mostly to the tunes of the ’60s and the ’70s, aided by a solitary guitar that becomes jukebox-like in the hands of Pol-Art Bautista: a dying rite of passage that karaoke and Manny Pacquiao’s Magic Sing-Extreme have all but consigned to oblivion.

Early this morning, as I was checking if Cabrê (which is how my kids call Vic Cabrera’s Grandview Minimart) and Aman (their competing store across the street) are already open to get our daily Enoy’s sliced bread, I chanced upon Luis Marasigan, Grandview Elementary OIC. Buying his own breakfast of probably champorado or pancit, he was complaining to the Escaños that centro Calabanga (which is around 30-40 minutes away from Naga) has already been energized! Our Grandview/Green Valley community, on the other hand, can only envy the brightly lit city center — visible especially during the lately moonless early evening. It’s been almost two weeks since Reming, and all we see are the still fallen Casureco posts and cables littering the Naga-Carolina road — with a few solitary steel posts rising in between.

I woke up at past 2 this morning — weighed down by some unfinished business I just cannot seem to put away — and only had a few catnaps in between. For the most part, I alternated with my wife in vigorously fanning the humid air that is again making Pep, Nokie and Bada uncomfortable in their sleep. The windows are already open, but unlike the other night, there was no cold December air coming in.

I know, I know. One has to have tons of patience in times like this. But these are also the times I longed for the years when we were still renting a unit at the Barbosas of Calauag. Then, typhoons from time to time also visited Naga and blacked out the city, but being in the center (or pericenter, if there is such a word) of things, we reap the benefits that go along with it.

In my frustration with being peripheral — and being way down Casureco’s totem pole of priorities — I quickly constructed the following verse in my cellphone while driving to fetch my wife from Cam High. Unfortunately, Mike and Grace already signed off so I just saved it in my “Saved Text Messages” folder. But I will surely fire it away this afternoon, the moment they sign on in that popular radio program at DWNX.

Tigsik ko an Casureco II
Kalbo na siguro an payo ko
Uda pang kuryente sa Grandview!

Photo by Bob Ursua