Ahh, those were the days.
Lately, my inner censor prevents me from blogging. I do keep a small notebook where my scribbles and outlines are contained but I wonder why I can’t compose a sensible entry. Psychologists, according to Erica Jong, has a more appropriate term for this. Flow state (characterized by the suspension of the sense of time, the obliteration of self-consciousness, and the feeling that we are doing something for its own sake and not for its own outcome). That flow isn’t really working for me over the past few days. Most people rely on liquor, drugs, etc. to create something, a poem, music, story…Unfortunately for me, I don’t do such things just so I can tune in with my self or with the world.
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(Click to listen to the background music.)
However, last night while checking my high school yearbook - I saw an old picture inserted within the pages. Flashbacks came rushing like heavy torrents of water. Perhaps my flow state has some connection with the visual.
The year was late ’90s and I was actively involved in community theater. Being a development communication student in Ateneo de Naga at that time, I saw it both as an opportunity for praxis and personal growth to be part of such an endeavor. I helped mobilize a group of talented children and youth into a theater group that will serve as advocates for child rights protection. That’s also when I appreciated more the beauty of development work, the passion that drives NGO/GO/PO workers to plunge into marginalized areas, reach out to the disadvantaged and be an agent of change. Devcom is not a basic science but an applied one, making it an integrative discipline and lending itself to dynamism and people-centeredness. I knew right then that I took the right course in college.
Life was quite simple then. I devoted much of my time attending rehearsals and presentations. We are a group of 25-30 people: casts/characters, props men, technicians (the ones in-charged with lighting and sound effects), the bus driver and the NGO staff (the brainchild of such advocacy tool). We literally jumped from one barangay to another, spoke with village leaders, mingled with other youth and children. In our own little way, we were able to break the culture of silence among typical families in the countryside as far as child rights is concerned.
On a more personal level, it is indeed such a pleasurable experience recalling how each member’s relationship with one another had improved dramatically. We became closer and were comfortable telling our own joys and pains, even our own secrets. The theater group made us into one big family of friends. After my class, I’d go straight to BCAT’s Training Dorm with a big smile plastered on my face. We get reprimanded from time to time. As young people, you see, we can be stubborn and hardheaded. But anyway, all of us often looked forward to a couple of days of get-together and practice. I remember the times I couldn’t get my lines straight and when I did “hahaha” a hundred times so I could sound as sinister as my character required. Our routine meant continuous rehearsing to have a more realistic presentation.
Every time a play is on the way, we gather at either BCAT or Penafrancia Resort. A hired bus (the one driven by Tiyo Roslin who passed away last year, God bless his soul) would take us to the training center then to our destination. Sir M would often tell us, “what an experience huh! you traveled all the way from the mountains just to visit another mountain!”. That is because we mostly go to places with no access to electricity. Good thing we had a ready generator. The areas often required walking because of steep slopes. If its rainy, we need to walk barefoot. We spend the nights on some elementary school buildings as well.
A stage play means setting the backdrop (sometimes using only an open space or a basketball court/no stage at all), preparing all the music and lighting effects, doing the customary throw-lines, putting on the customes, applying make-up, characterization, etc. At one time, we ran out of hairspray — my friend JJ used an egg white as a substitute and smothered it on my hair. Yaikks. But when you’re ready for the role, you dont care even if you smell like a rotten cheese.
The day succeeding each play was also memorable as we often go swimming or doing picnic. The picture I posted was in fact taken at Malabsay Falls in Panicuason.
Noel Cabangon’s “Kanlungan” (the background music) was our anthem… reminiscent of our Shibashi mornings, an exercise we did for years while the group was still intact and functioning. I remember “separating the clouds”, the “rotating wheel”, and “balancing chi”.
Ahhh, those were the days! Half of all my happiest memories combined were in it, which is why I treasure those moments so dearly.
Years of teaching plus a solid encounter with different types of students had created a big impact in my life and has taught me to ponder what was I like as a student myself. Did I annoy my professors with how I always chose to keep silent in their classes and how I allowed my brain to do the processing instead? Why, I need a considerable amount of coaxing before I can have the extra courage to stand up and say my piece. That was not all, I was (consistently) in the bottom quartile of my high school and college classes in Mathematics! Up until today, I still have nightmares of failing the subject and not making it to the graduating class. My strength is language (as far as I know hehe). However, this article isn’t about me. Truth be told, I have been wanting to write something about the most memorable AB Development Communication students I had in my years with the academe not because they belong to my favorites (admit it or not, teachers do have their chosen few) but because without knowing it — they gave me certain realizations. Priceless.
I sometimes think of her as the crying lady or the drama princess because of her propensity to cry (I swear her tear glands are so active that she cries, happy or otherwise!). We became really close friends during the time she was in CLSU until today. This despite the fact that I seldom make friends (a colleague once said I seem to be overly protective of my own bubble). But what made her personality endearing to me are her qualities of being reliable (not just as a student and friend but as a leader as well), persistence to finish a given task even if it means sweat and blood, her sweetness, her courage to point out your wrong, her openness, her lack of pretensions. And to top it all up, before her graduation, we had to battle with nasty stalkers. When I think about it now, I know that part only made us closer together.