Sunday, May 20, 2007 Estremera: Nagdadabog na bayan... atbp. By Stella Estremera Spider's Web
ASKED how he views the surprising sprint from behind of Lt. Sg. Antonio Trillanes IV in the senate race, my coffee buddy Paringbert a.k.a. Fr. Albert E. Alejo had one word to describe what happened: "Dabog."
Is it a manifestation of the people's dwindling support for the administration? My reporter asked.
"Nagdadabog," Paringbert said again. The "bayan" is not up in arms nor is it inclined to take up arms, he said. But it is down on the floor, screaming and stomping; demanding change, right away, right now!
Nagdadabog na bayan... hmmmm... that's an unusual but graphic concept of the state of Philippine society.
I know the feeling so well after I cast my vote for an unknown just to blow a red ripe raspberry at an incumbent and wrote about it with glee for everyone to read the following day. Dabog...
It seems to be the stimulus that saw Rep. Douglas Ra. Cagas (as of this writing) enjoy a good lead in the gubernatorial race in Davao del Sur even if he can make your blood boil whenever he talks (what with sarcasm literally dripping out of his mouth, with matching expression to boot).
Dabog could be also why a priest who's still not officially on leave, but who has filed his leave anyway, throttled two big names in Pampanga politics?
And could also be why despite the massive political ads, Prospero Pichay can't even tap the scraggly campaign waged by the family of Gringo Honasan?
The people are not up in arms. They merely trooped to their precincts, scribbled their choices, went home to watch the television keep track of the way the other people voted.
Sure there are still a lot of hocus-pocus being made in the senatorial race, but the people have already made their voices heard in the local level and in the runup for the senatorial race (before the magic wands are wielded, maybe), and after their "dabog"... comes the reglamentary sticking out of the tongue and blowing a big fat red raspberry... and "Pikaaaat!"
After the dabog, the pikat... the relief. It worked when we were kids. We screamed, we threw a tantrum, pouted, blew a raspberry, sulk, then threatened... "Bantay ka lang..." a threat that was very rarely followed through with action. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. But one thing for sure, we were heard. Oh boy, were we heard (especially when we did that in public places). And boy, did we cause great embarrassment to our moms.
Nagdadabog na bayan...
****
The party was just breaking up, and we have been wowed by this young lady singing soul music with all her soul. She was really into it, it was like watching someone so comfortable on stage; she has mustered and mastered every nuance of the performing arts. But before I get carried away, I was really there for the celebrator, the performer's dad.
Artist Vic Secuya has just turned 50 and he celebrated this half a century mark with a quiet party at his Juna home. Quiet here meaning not boisterous. Poems were read, songs were sang complete with a really good sound system (not one of those that screech and pop typical of ordinary home components) both songs and spiels and poems were properly amplified for everyone, including those outside the house, to hear. But it wasn't boisterous. Just necessary volume.
It was in that setting when Vic made his spiel about turning 50 and celebrating it with very close friends. (Thanks, Vic!)
What caught my attention, however, was when he urged everyone to die without talent. Like, d-uh? That sounds soooo sad, like dying all shriveled up with nothing left but bones.
That got you too, right? How sad... dying without a talent. But Vic disagrees, because, after all, it's in the living that matters. Expend all your talents while you're alive, he said, because once you die, the unexpended, if not unexplored or undiscovered, talent dies with you. Not even death (or post-teen angst) can be sadder than that.
Dying without a talent...
****
This is one perk of this job I love most, I get a ringside chance to pick the brains of our home-grown thinkers. And so I pluck my first piece on my classical guitar after picking their brains, trying to call out what little talent I have in music as I listen to the soothing sounds of guitar strings. Die without talent and, yes, whenever we feel like it, go throw a tantrum every once in a while. Adulthood didn't deprive us of that right, we simply thought it was no longer appropriate. But then, ripping and duping a people, a community or a nation is even more inappropriate, so inappropriate it's supposed to be a crime. Throwing a tantrum never was... Throw a tantrum, die without a talent, live life...
