Sunday, January 07, 2007 Dacawi: When it pays to have friends By Ramon Dacawi Benchwarmer
THE band members who checked the sound system couldn't tell classic country singer Mike Santos he would have to climb five floors to the auditorium of the Mt. Province State College evening of December 28. So the 67-year-old (that's what he said I don't when) ascended slowly, gripping the railings and resting each time he landed on each floor.
Finally making it backstage, he was unsure if he could sing in the folk concert for two ailing kids. He temporarily lost his voice on the way to Bontoc. Damn. He had opted for air condition instead of dust whipped up by the Suzuki Jimney of the Benguet Electric Cooperative (Beneco).
At his official guest house, Mt. Province Gov. Maximo Dalog was sure Mike and the rest of the reconstituted Foggy Mountain Band, aboard three vehicles, would arrive at the capital town with limbs intact. Not in pieces. The road to Bontoc is, undoubtedly, the safest highway (if you can call it that), he later stressed. Given its state of neglect, no one can drive fast, as Randall Dampac and Noel Canimo, both of Beneco, and Peewee Agustin, my partner for years, found out.
Mike tried to laugh over that bright note on state of the province's mountain trail. Instead, he croaked. He croaked again when Swanny Dicang promised a smoother and shorter ride the next time around. Swanny said he would have Batman's mobile speeding sideways on the well-done roadside riprap walls.
Swanny tried to peer down on the underside of the two Beneco vehicles, as if looking for a bullfrog. Finding none, he eased up pressure on his belly, tapped the cooperative vehicles and announced: It's always cheaper to have friends than to buy a car. (Beneco's transport support cut down on costs, assuring bigger amounts for the two kids battling leukemia.)
From backstage, Mike peered at the beneficiaries being presented on stage: seven-year old Simon Lardizabal and his nephew, four-year old Zandro Pagayon. Both had facial masks on to protect them from infection while undergoing chemotherapy. With or no voice, Mike just couldn't let them down.
He belted out three country pieces, opening up with "El Paso", that popular ballad that, like "Green, Green Grass of Home", is simply impossible. How did an ill-fated gunslinger, or one who faced the hangman's noose, come back from the grave to sing us how he passed on?
The crowd asked for more but Mike begged off, saying he couldn't hit the high notes. He made up for it with an instrumental - a one-guitar plucking and strumming of "Red River Valley", in tandem with Porky Peria behind him.
Porky was supposed to be with his visiting daughter in Olongapo, whom he hasn't seen for years. She bought him an expensive guitar (close to $2,000) but he had to leave her for this commitment. Mike can't sing without him and the band can't refuse to play for those brave little boys.
The Bontoc crowd missed lead singer Conrad Marzan, who had to catch a plane to California where he's settling down for good. Fans the likes of police Inspector Henry Domogan also missed former world karate champion and Bontoc boy Julian Chees. He was supposed to perform his winning "kata" form "unsu" (parting of the clouds) but had to rush to Manila to pay his respects to his master, sixth dan Kunio Sasaki.
Nevertheless, Julian had been at the provincial hospital where he used up P45,000 for indigent patients.
I offered my voice but lead singer Mhia wouldn't have it, with that stare telling me my best contribution was not to sing. So she wowed them without me, in the company of drummer Roger Nobus, base guitarist Thor Fagyan, Arsen Marzan on the steel guitar, soloist Nap Felwa and local boy Gaston Bete.
The moment Mhia opened audience participation, Swanny's cash started jumping out of his wallet and into the pockets of those who sang and danced with her. It's always handy to have him, this time for the brandy and hamburger, meals and souvenir items he bought for the band members. He's right - it's cheaper to have friends than to buy these. That's why he's my friend.
So are regional director Helen Tibaldo of the Philippine Information Agency, Richard Valdez of NBN TV 4 and my godson, lawyer Alex Bangsoy. They contributed for food and fuel along the way. Sagada boy Manny Gayao contacted his friend, Ronald Kimakim who cooked us lunch in his Golden Pines Hotel in Buguias.
On the way back via Banaue, two members of the Bayyo Women's Association stopped us at foggy and cold Mt. Polis . Alicia Wayasen and Diana Peta-ul offered camote and hot mountain tea. KumpareVictor Puma-at also waited for us with a bag of Maligcong oranges. The women showed us their mossy forest nursery that forester Manny Pogeyed initiated through a grant from the United Nations Development Program. Over in Bayombong, Nueva Vizcaya, Kenneth, Mhia's singing partner, was waiting with barbecue, "pansit" and Coke for us.
More than having friends, the blessings of the likes of Gov. Dalog and Bontoc Mayor Alfonso Kiat-ong were crucial in mounting the concert for a cause.
Yet it cost my college buddy Allan Bacwaden who handled the ticket sales and promotions with Mila Malla-ao, the province's personnel officer. Allan had to back up some P3,000 worth of tickets he lost while making a sales pitch to friends during a drinking session.
Mila was bothered, too, the morning after the musical treat. She said there's this four-year old, Khiralye Lumayog, also suffering from suspected leukemia. She led us to the girl's grandmother, Adela Falangon, who received P2,000. Baguio boy Freddie de Guzman, now in Canada, will surely replace the amount. I saw Mila nine years ago, during another Bontoc concert. She was pretty then, but now she's beautiful.
So was the audience, mostly youth and kids who must have broken their piggy banks for the P35 admission. There were vacant seats but Allan and Mhia hoped those who didn't come would still pay the tickets they took.
We've had difficulties collecting ticket sales in previous concerts. But Bontoc is not Baguio. Here in the city, some guys beg to the Almighty to help out, only to suffer from selective amnesia when asked to account after the performance is over.
Unlike them, Mike Santos is free of dementia, except about his age. He even remembered to buy a Banaue sweater for Micah, his 11-year old daughter with wife Juliet, who's 33.
Swanny returned home broke. He said it's always worth it when you work with a band like Mike's and people who never succumb to donor fatigue. He called up on New Year's Day, for that annual picnic with two orphans in Bauang, La Union. It was his way of emptying my pockets through a game of cards over drinks on the beach.
"Ammom, ti 'tong-its' ket ay-ayam ti adda utek na," he told me, perhaps for the nth time. "Isu nga kaykayat ka nga kadua," he added and started belting "The Last Thing on my Mind" as he drove an old car he still has to pay for.- Email: rdacawi@yahoo.com
