Carta abierta al Presidente de la Academia Filipina de la Lengua Española

Presidente
Academia Filipina de la Lengua Española

Estimado Don Guimò:

Buen día.

Señor, después de mucha deliberación desde nuestra reunión de almuerzo este sábado pasado, finalmente decidí no unirme a la Academia Filipina de la Lengua Española. Lo siento mucho, pero el tratamiento frío que yo recibí entre sus compañeros (me refiero a los profesores de UP Dilimán y al mismísimo expresidente de la Academia Filipina) cuando usted decidió nominarme como nuevo miembro ya es suficiente para que yo decida no unirme. Es que incluso si me convierto en miembro allí, no hay forma de que mis planes o ideas para avanzar el idioma español en Filipinas sean reconocidos o respetados por ellos. Estoy tan seguro que mi membresía allí sólo creará problemas y conflictos entre ustedes. Incluso podrían acusarlo de nepotismo y no quiero que eso le pase a usted.

Y hablando de nepotismo, usted sabe muy bien que ni una sóla vez le pedí que usted me hiciera miembro de la Academia Filipina. Fue idea suya, no mía. Sólo digo esto ahora para que quede registrado, para que en caso de que ellos se topen con esta carta abierta, lo entiendan que no tengo ningún motivo egoísta.

Pero no quiero sonar como un hipócrita. ¿Quiero ser miembro de la institución estatal más antigua de nuestro país? ¡Sí, por supuesto! Sería muy emocionante y gratificante ver mi nombre junto a los nombres de personas distinguidas como Benito Legarda Jr, Gloria Macapagal de Arroyo, y Ramón Pedrosa entre muchos otros. Sería realmente gratificante que un don nadie como yo se convierta, por fin, en un grupo prestigioso que alguna vez albergó nombres ilustres en la literatura filipina como Macario Adriático, Jesús Balmori, Fernando Mª Guerrero, Evangelina Zacarías, etc. Pero más que eso, creo que ser miembro de la Academia Filipina de alguna manera dar poder a mi sueño de toda la vida de una Filipinas de habla hispana. Sin embargo, si el precio de todo eso es un conflicto con los académicos, preferiría no tenerlo. No quiero problemas para nosotros dos.

Con el debido respeto a su liderazgo, mi querido maestro, la versión actual de la Academia Filipina —en mi opinión brutalmente franca— es nada más que un “social club” de personas que sólo anhelan prestigio. Usted y yo sabemos que muchos de ellos (no todos, pero la mayoría de ellos) no hacen casi nada para custodiar, enaltecer, y difundir el idioma español en nuestra patria. Podrían tomar represalias a lo que escribo ahora y afirmar que promueven el español enseñándolo. Es verdad. Pero lo hacen como una profesión, se les paga por ello. Lo hacen por un salario. Por el contrario, yo no gano ningún centavo cada vez que promociono el idioma español en el Internet. Incluso me costó la salud y me ha causado problemas en el hogar y en la oficina.

Déjeme decir esto ahora: muchos miembros actuales de la Academia Filipina especialmente aquellos en la profesión docente, en mi observación, son sólo políglotas, amantes del lenguaje, pero no son hispanistas como el primer plantel de académicos.

Pero no se preocupe porque hay muchas otras personas fuera de la Academia Filipina que están trabajando duro haciendo para el avance del español en el país. Son Arnaldo Arnáiz, Jemuel Pilápil, Christian Martínez, Hermana Fedelyn Bueno, y Atty. Ceferino Benedicto, etc. Incluso nuestro colega José Mª Bonifacio Escoda, a pesar de sus fallas, es muy trabajador cuando se trata de promover el idioma español en su cuenta de Facebook. Estos son los jóvenes (excepto Boni, ¡jeje!) cuya defensa del idioma español es más apasionada y más visible en el Internet en comparación con los miembros actuales (y esnob) de la Academia Filipina. Hoy en día, la visibilidad y la actividad en el Internet es muy importante para avanzar una defensa. Esta visibilidad y actividad y también carisma, entre otras virtudes nacionalistas, son inherentes a las personas que mencioné (no las veo en algunos miembros de la Academia Filipina a pesar de sus excelentes cualidades como eruditos). Estoy seguro de que hay muchos otros como ellos a quienes no hemos conocido todavía, individuos que continúan el trabajo (y el espíritu) de la original Academia Filipina.

La imagen puede contener: una o varias personas y personas de pie

Mi foto final con los miembros de la Academia Filipina de la Lengua Española en el Club Filipino. De pie, izquierda a derecha: Daisy López, Erwin Thaddeus Bautista, Wystan de la Peña, José Rodríguez Rodríguez (presidente honorario), Emmanuel Luis Romanillos, y yo (no socio). Sentado, izquierda a derecha: Benito Legarda Jr., Guillermo Gómez Rivera (presidente actual). Foto por Jeffrey Vecina, asistente leal del Sr. Gómez.

 

Espero que esta carta abierta no le entristezca ni le ofenda de ninguna manera. Sólo necesitaba explicarme a mí mismo (y pensé en escribirlo aquí en lugar de enviárselo por mensaje privado para la posteridad, y de modo que quedara registrado), y limpiarnos de cualquier acusación desagradable que pudiera surgir. Tuve que hacer esto para calmar a las mentes maliciosas en la Academia Filipina. No deseo ser su villano.

Sin embargo, me gustaría agradecerle por considerarme miembro. Durante muchos años, usted me ha estado diciendo que me nominará. Su confianza en mí sólo ya es un gran honor y vale más que hacerme miembro. La Academia Filipina es de ellos, más que la mía. No la necesito porque ya tengo mi blog. El idioma español en nuestro país seguirá creciendo con o sin la Academia Filipina. Y más importante aún, el espíritu de la verdadera Academia Filipin vivirá en los no socios. Esto creo.

Su seguro servidor Q.B.S.M.

José Mario “Pepe” Alas Soriano
Bloguero
EL FILIPINISMO

We are now 25,000 strong!

“Prize the past | the counterclockwise ticks”
Federico Espino

Good news to all members of the Facebook history group PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia: We now have 25,000 members! What a way to end 2019!

On behalf of the group’s founder, Ms. Carmen Floirendo, I would like to thank all members in making this group a huge success! The group also boasts of distinguished names in Filipino History and Culture such as Ambeth Ocampo, Guillermo Gómez Rivera, Gemma Cruz Araneta, Jim Richardson, and Xiao Chua among many others. Even Jaime Fábregas is there! This makes the group very unique and special compared to other FB groups about Filipino History.

Click here to join!

We now look forward to an exciting new decade! 🥳

La imagen puede contener: montaña, cielo, nubes, texto, naturaleza y exterior

Image: Diamond Fist.

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♪ Children’s carols in the air ♫

I’d rather go for Christian Christmas songs rather than secular ones. Secular Christmas songs will only teach you that it is OK to be adulterous (♪ I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus ♫), will teach your children to be rebellious (♫ Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell ROCK! ♪), will teach you to have fun in a dangerous manner (♪ Oh! what fun it is to ride in a one-horse open sleigh, HEY! ♫), and eventually will lead you to your demise through frostbite (♪ Walking in a winter wonderland ♫). Ho ho ho! 😆😂🎄

Remember, boys and girls. There is only one reason why there is Christmas. And that is why Silent Night wins (flawless victory)! 😉

La imagen puede contener: 2 personas

“The Nativity” by Dona Gelsinger.

PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia

I am so elated! I have just been appointed as moderator of the Facebook group PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia. It is one of the largest and fastest growing FB groups today in terms of membership and engagement. I just finished an introductory message on the group, and I thought of sharing it here on my blog.

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Good evening everyone!

I am happy to announce that I have just been appointed by Ms. Carmen Floirendo as moderator of PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia, one of the largest and fastest Facebook groups today in terms of membership (and engagement) that deals with our country’s HISTORY.

I emphasized the word HISTORY here so that all members will realize the theme of this group: our country’s history, of course. While there is still no description nor set of rules yet for this group (and that is what I plan to work on in the coming weeks with Ms. Floirendo), it doesn’t take rocket science to realize that the name PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia should only tackle posts related to our country’s history, particularly those that invoke nostalgia. But general Filipino History topics are welcome.

Having said that, I would like to reiterate to all members to comply with this group’s theme as implied by the name. So please Please PLEASE stop publishing non-history related posts. We will not give warnings anymore, especially since there are thousands of you here. If we see a violator, he/she will be kicked out from the group immediately. With just Ms. Floirendo and myself, it is virtually impossible for the two of us to monitor all of your activities. That is why we need your compliance and cooperation. We are all adults here. You already know what is right or wrong.

Please do not consider this message as some sort of “dictatorship”. All we want is strict compliance to protect the integrity of this group. If you feel that Ms. Floirendo or myself are abusing our powers, feel free to criticize us in a respectful manner. And having mentioned that, may we all respect each and everyone here.

Remember: we are all here to promote our country’s beautiful past. Let us all learn from each other.

Lastly, I would like to thank the mother of PHILIPPINE HISTORY 101 : Nostalgia, Ms. Carmen Floirendo, for giving me this rare opportunity to moderate it with her. It is truly an honor!

Best regards,

José Mario “Pepe” Alas

Join the group now by clicking here!

What makes a hero?

Many years ago, while rummaging through costly books in one popular bookstore, I found for the first time Dr. Onofre Córpuz’s famous work, “The Roots of the Filipino Nation”. I didn’t have money then, so I just leafed through the pages. On page 223 (of volume II), I found a commentary of his about the “Kataas-taasang, Kagalang-galangang Katipunan ng̃ mg̃á Anak ng̃ Bayan“, popularly known as the Katipunan. On that page, Córpuz wrote that this time-honored “revolutionary group” was “the first active embodiment of the Christian Filipino nation”.

During that time, I had just reconverted to the Catholic Church (after a couple of years toying around with godlessness and other “isms”). My zeal back then towards the faith of my forefathers was freshly strong, and so I immediately sensed —with much chagrin— that there was something disturbingly wrong with Dr. Córpuz’s assertion. I asked myself, how could someone like him, a giant in the academe, had written something as incomprehensible as the Katipunan embodying a Christian nation when that group was an offshoot of Freemasonry? As many Dan-Brown-educated kids should know by now, Freemasonry is the ancient enemy of the Church. As a Christian student of history, I was deeply intrigued toward the extent of the late Dr. Córpuz’s knowledge about the role of Freemasonry during those tumultuous final years of our country’s history under Spain. But was Dr. Córpuz really unaware of the Katipunan’s Masonic roots as well as its motives? I find it hard to believe that. Or did he leave that fact out conveniently because he was a Freemason himself, or perhaps its sympathizer? But if he was, wouldn’t it still be ridiculous for a Mason like him to say that a violent group who tortured and chopped off the heads of friars just because they were Spaniards embodied the Christian Filipino nation?

To those who are still unaware, Freemasonry has been condemned numerous times by the Catholic Church. To my knowledge, there had been at least 24 papal pronouncements regarding this matter (perhaps the most famous was Pope Leo XIII’s papal encyclical  “Humanum Genus” which was released in 1884). As one of the best academicians our country ever had, it strikes me as odd as to why Dr. Córpuz had failed to emphasize the Masonic origins of the Katipunan in that controversial conclusion of his. A little research will show that the Katipunan’s third and final Supremo, Andrés Bonifacio (you read that right: he wasn’t the first), joined the Logia Taliba (No. 165) and from there imbibed his radical and anti-friar ideas. Bonifacio also joined Rizal’s Liga Filipina in 1892. The group was in fact a Masonic lodge in the making (or was it already?). These organizations, not to mention their members, were hardly Christian at all, if we are to view them from Catholic lenses.

La imagen puede contener: una persona

After the failure of the Liga Filipina and the arrest and deportation of Rizal to Dapitan, the campaign for peaceful reforms had hit the glass ceiling. Thus, an agitated and disenchanted Marcelo H. del Pilar, himself a high-ranking Mason and a rabid propagandista who had been on self-exile in Spain for years, wrote to his brother-in-law Deodato Arellano and urged the latter to form a much more radical and violent group to finally end Spain’s reign in Filipinas. Arellano thus gathered other members of the beleaguered Liga to form the Katipunan (yes, it was Arellano, and not Bonifacio, who founded the Katipunan as instigated by del Pilar).

When government forces discovered the existence of the Katipunan in late 1896, what happened next was bloodshed and the senseless killing and torture of innocent Spanish friars and other individuals who went against the Katipuneros’ way. Did ordinary civilians welcome the “revolution” participated in mostly by Tagálogs? No they didn’t. For most Filipinos living far from where the action was, life went on. There was no national sentiment that supported the Katipunan rebellion against Spain (see “One Woman’s Liberating: The Life and Career of Estefanía Aldaba-Lim” by Nick Joaquín).

It should be noted in the preceding paragraph that the Katipunan was discovered by accident. Keep in mind that it was an underground organization. Simply put, the Katipunan was an ILLEGAL ASSOCIATION no matter how hard one tries to paint it with dainty colors of patriotism and love of country. One might say that it had lofty ideals of freedom and nationhood, thus excusing it from illegalities. But so does the Moro Islamic Liberation Front and the Abu Sayyaf who try to picture themselves as the martyrs of their delusional Bangsamoro. Should we consider them heroes too?

Mimicking the Katipunan’s belligerence towards lawful society, Senator Antonio “Sonny” Trillanes IV and his Samahang Magdalo did the same thing twice in the past against the administration of then President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo. Should we, therefore, erect monuments to Trillanes as well and consider his rebellious friends as the new Katipuneros? After all, they fought corruption and injustice, didn’t they?

Seeing now that the Katipunan was a bastard child of Freemasonry, the ancient enemy of the Christian religion, how in the world did Dr. Córpuz come up with the idea that the Katipunan was the first active embodiment of the Christian Filipino nation? The Katipuneros made incisions on their arms to sign membership papers using their own blood. They swore loyalty to the Katipunan in front of a human skull. They swore to kill even members of their families for the sake of the Katipunan’s secrecy. Where is Christianity in all that?

This is not to say that Bonifacio was an evil man; only God can judge whether he was or not in spite of the many friars he had shamed and ordered tortured and killed, and churches burned and desecrated. Going beyond the rebellion, we will never know much about his character for he was not as chronicled as Rizal. For all we know, Bonifacio could have been a virtuous man. But that is not the point. Whatever personal distinction he may have had was not the reason why we now have several monuments for him, nor was it the reason why we commemorate his birthday every November 30th.

On 16 February 1921, the Philippine Legislature, under the auspices of US Governor-General Francis Burton Harrison, enacted Act No. 2946 making November 30 of each year a legal holiday to commemorate the birth of Bonifacio. The holiday has since been known as Bonifacio Day, ultimately making the Katipunan a Filipino national hero.

But in view of the foregoing Masonic events surrounding Bonifacio and the Katipunan, especially from the lens of a Christian observer, should a Catholic still consider him a hero?

It is, of course, difficult to accept that Bonifacio should be removed from our pantheon of heroes. After all, we’ve been hearing about him even before we started going to school (I still remember clearly how my dear paternal grandmother —may she rest in peace— was teaching me how to recite that “Andrés Bonifacio / hatapang hatáo” mock poem when I was around three years old so that it would evoke in her a hearty laugh!). But isn’t it about time that we all start to think on our own instead of relying on years of spoon-fed artificial food? You will say, of course, that the Katipunan was formed as a reaction towards Spanish tyranny. But what tyranny to be exact? I’ve been hearing about this tyranny all my life yet no one could still point out accurately what exactly it was all about. What’s always been taught to us are hazy and hasty generalizations. Is there tyranny in the towns that Spain created for us? Was Spain tyrannical when it shipped to our country countless items (tomato, calendar, piano, wheat, books, polo, pantalón, chico, bougainvillea, violin, watermelon, guava, printing press, etc.) and concepts (chivalry, palabra de honor, philosophy, law, land ownership, Western art, age/birthday, Christianity, etc) that have made us what we are today — as Filipinos? We adore old mementos from our past (bahay na bató, traditions, etc.) and decry their dwindling number and alarming disappearance. But such mementos were from the hated Spanish period. So why bother saving and conserving them if they all come from such a tyrannical era?

We all miss our grandfathers who used to bring us to Church on Sundays and carry us on their shoulders so that we’d be able to see saints’ processions from right above a thick crowd; we all miss our grandmothers who never tire praying the rosary day and night. All these are vestiges from that tyrannical period. Why bother missing them at all?

Spain virtually created this country. We wouldn’t be having Luzón, Visayas, and Mindanáo today if not for Spain. What kind of tyranny is that? Numerous tribes (the politically correct will tell me it should be called ethnolinguistic instead) such as the Tagálogs, the Visayans, the Bicolanos, etc. were united under one language (Spanish), under one government, under one faith (Roman Catholicism) so as to keep us one, so that we will no longer be at war against each other. We were given schools (escuelas pías, Universidad de Santo Tomás, etc.). Pray, tell, where is the tyranny in that?

This is not to say that all Spanish officials and even friars during the Empire days were all good and just. No, of course not. But that is not the point. The point here is what untold promises did Freemasonry inspire upon Rizal and del Pilar to rebel, and for Bonifacio and his band of Katipuneros to rise against civil society. “For the sake of freedom”, is the usual answer. But what freedom did violence bring? No wonder the late Fidel Castro was both hated and loved by his people. The support for and against him is heavily polarized to this day.

We have had so much distrust towards our government. From Ferdinand Marcos all the way to President Rodrigo Duterte. Shouldn’t we all follow the Katipuneros of old and organize stealth groups to undermine the present government, all for the sake of freedom?

If I will use the hashtag #NotAHero, it would be appropriate to attach it to that Masonically misled man from Tondo whose birthday we methodically commemorate today, because instead of thinking something that would have truly helped and uplifted the lives of the unfortunate Filipino masses of his time —by establishing something such as the Kadiwa Public Market, for instance— Bonifacio brought instead bloodshed which led not only to his own death but also to the downfall of what Spain had strongly forged for more than three centuries.

And if I may add: no, he was not our country’s first president. Don’t even start with me.

So what makes a hero? ¿Mag-rebelde ca lang, bayani ca na caagád? At capág nasa poder ca at nilabanan mo ang isáng rebelión, ¿masamá ca ná?

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Yorme Iskô, ¡mabuhay ca!

Alarmantemente estamos perdiendo gran parte de los recuerdos de nuestro país. Me refiero a nuestro patrimonio, tanto tangible como intangible. Y esto me deprime todos los días. Pero el Señor Alcalde Francisco “Iskô” Domagoso Moreno de Manila me da esperanza. Me inspira a ser un mejor filipino. Me inspira a no renunciar a luchar por la supervivencia de los recuerdos de nuestro país.

 

We are alarmingly losing much of our country’s memories. I am talking about our heritage, both tangible and intangible. And this depresses me every day. But Manila Mayor Isko Moreno gives me hope. He inspires me to be a better Filipino. He inspires me never to give up fighting for the survival of our country’s memories.

¡MABUHAY CA, YORME ISKÓ MORENO! ¡Nauáy palagui cang pagpaláin at gabayán ng Pañginoóng Dios! 😇

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A funny encounter with F. Sionil José

Several days ago, historian Guillermo Gómez Rivera informed me that he received an email from Mr. César Quinagan of Solidaridad bookshop who was inquiring about his latest book, “The Filipino State and Other Essays“. Solidaridad was interested in distributing them. Unfortunately, since Señor Gómez has been wheelchair-bound for the past few years, he couldn’t attend to this matter himself anymore. I gladly volunteered to meet up with Mr. Quinagan, if only to help Señor Gómez.

La imagen puede contener: Andreas Herbig, texto

This book of historical essays is now available on Amazon. It will soon be on the shelves of Solidaridad.

But then, at the back of my mind, I had to be cautious in visiting the famous Ermita-based bookshop because of a scathing blogpost that I wrote against the owner last year. Before that, I was friends with F. Sionil José on Facebook. No, I have never met him in person. It just so happened that I found out that he has an FB account years ago. Since he was a close friend of my favorite writer Nick Joaquín, I just thought of clicking on “Add Friend” and was lucky enough to be accepted. That blogpost I wrote earned for me an unfriending. 🤣 But it was to be expected, of course.

Close friends know that I appreciate F. Sionil José’s fiction but not his opinions on Filipino History and other matters. That is why I developed a disliking of him, even if he’s the best friend of Nick. Besides, the two have been known to be at loggerheads against each other. How many times have we been told about the famous story on how Frankie and Nick debated about our country’s Spanish past? Nick would usually say that if not for the Spaniards, Frankie would have been an Igorot. Frankie would then claim in interviews that Nick would always fall silent whenever he replied with this:

“Don’t forget the Spaniards killed Rizal.”

* * * * * * *

Last November 16, a Saturday, I attended an art-history lecture at the National Museum of the Philippines which was curated by my famous comadre Gemma Cruz-Araneta (a great grandniece of Rizal, if I may add). I brought with me a few copies of Señor Gómez’s book to be delivered to Mr. Quinagan afterwards. I tagged my family along (except for my two eldest, Krystal and Mómay, who were already busy with other things).

La imagen puede contener: 4 personas, incluido Jennifer Perey-Alas, personas sonriendo, personas sentadas

Juanito, Yeyette, Gemma, and Clarita after the lecture (photo: Jefe).

La imagen puede contener: 3 personas, personas sonriendo, personas de pie

Thankfully, Jefe, Juanito, and Junífera Clarita are inclined toward the arts. They always enjoy their stay at the National Museum.

After the museum event, Yeyette decided that we just walk all the way to Calle Padre Faura where the National Artist’s bookshop was located. The move surprised me a bit, but it delighted me as well because I really prefer walking through the streets of historic Manila. It was also an opportune time to familiarize our three younger kids to the Manila of our college days (Yeyette and I were classmates in Adamson University, and we used to ramble around the place) as well as to observe some of the newsmaking makeovers that Mayor Isko Moreno did since taking over City Hall last June.

La imagen puede contener: 3 personas, incluido Pepe Alas, personas sonriendo, personas de pie

Just passing by our alma mater‘s iconic walkway along Taft Avenue. 😊

We didn’t know what happened, but after several minutes of walking along the (surprisingly clean) sidewalk of Taft Avenue, we suddenly found ourselves facing the vehicular traffic of Quirino Avenue… we missed Padre Faura by several blocks! The new establishments must have disoriented us, or perhaps we have not been to that part of Manila for a long time (besides, I was busy doing Facebook live during our urban jungle trek, hehe). We had to cross Taft and walk all the way back to Faura. It was already dark by that time.

After trudging back, we turned left to Calle Remedios to avoid Taft’s polluted air, then turned right to a quieter Calle Pilar Hidalgo Lim. Yeyette was very annoyed at my miscalculation, so I kept my distance from her by walking several steps ahead. Junífera Clarita got tired with all the walking, so I had to carry her (but she kept on talking and talking and talking). That is why I was soaking wet when we finally reached F. Sionil José’s famous little bookshop. Unfortunately, the sign on the glass door says it was already closed. I didn’t know that they close at six in the evening, and it was almost seven when we got there (I’ve passed by the place numerous times but have never bothered to go inside because of my dislike of the owner). However, we could see a female cashier who was still at her desk, busy with her android. My wife tapped on the door to see if we could still continue our meeting. The young lady was not smiling but she still opened the door for us.

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Solidaridad at night.

Yeyette told her of our agenda, but she informed us that César had already left; we missed him by about an hour. However, she took two copies of the book and gave me a calling card. During this brief exchange, a man in his thirties appeared from behind the shelves. I assumed, perhaps, that he was César, but he didn’t look the type who manages a bookshop although he was wearing what seemed to me a guayabera. He grabbed one copy from the lady, went past the shelves, then watched him ascend a stairway at the farthest end of the store.

I asked the unsmiling lady if I had to sign anything before we leave, but she said to just contact César on Monday (so that’s it, guayabera dude was not César). Yeyette then engaged her in small talk. I took that opportunity to rummage around the shelves while shooing away Juanito and Junífera Clarita who were already all over the place.

Moments later, Mr. Guayabera went back to us with some unexpected news: “Aquiát dao po cayó sa taás, causapin dao cayó ni Manong.

Of course I knew who that Manong was. I felt a surge of apprehension, half wanting to leave and meet F. Sionil José at the same time. Really, I was only after César Quinagan, not him. But then, I thought of Señor Gómez’s book. Months before all this, I went to National Bookstore’s main office to inquire about the possibility of them distributing The Filipino State and Señor’s other book, “Quis Ut Deus,” a novel in Spanish. They made me wait for almost a month, only to inform me that they were not interested! Their explanation that Spanish books will not sell was understandable, but to say that they’re not focused on selling books about historical essays at the moment puzzles me up to now. So this, perhaps, was my last chance to have at least The Filipino State to be distributed by a major bookstore. Whether or not I didn’t want to go face to face with the 2001 National Artist for Literature, I really had to.

The problem was my shirt was really wet. I hurriedly went to Yeyette, who by then was fixated with her android, to ask for an extra shirt (I always have an extra with me because I perspire easily due to hyperhydrosis, another bane from childhood). While changing clothes at an enclosed corner near the stairs, my mind was struggling whether or not to tell Manong Frankie my real name. He’s in his nineties, I thought. Perhaps he has forgotten that blogpost of mine? I was trying to assure myself that I was not really that well-known of a troll, that I’m just another unknown basher of his.

After changing in a rush, I hurriedly reached for the stairs. I didn’t want to make Manong Frankie wait; I heard that he is such a character. When I was all set, I saw that Junífera Clarita, my annoying five-year-old baby girl who kept on talking and talking and talking, was already at the stairs! My golly, there was no more time to bid her to stay at the ground floor, lest she made a scene. I whispered to her, while trudging the wooden stairs, to just stay put and behave.

Manong Frankie, wearing his trademark beret, was seated on a wooden bench at the top of the stairs. Far to his right was another elderly lady behind a desk; I immediately recognized her as the wife, Manang Teresita José. The upper floor was not as well lighted compared to the ground floor, but the light coming from Manang Teresita’s desk made it bearable. The upper floor was actually a mezzanine, so the light coming from the first floor also contributed to the lighting.

After the greetings, I was not able to shake his hand because Junífera Clarita was all over the place again. Before I could even scold her, Manong Frankie immediately interrogated me as he bade me sit down in front of him.

“Are you the author of this book?” he said in his booming voice.

“No, sir! I’m just, uh, … an assistant. The author’s assistant,” I said, groping for the right words.

“I see. But do you also write?”

“Yes, sir,” I replied. “Actually, I already have a book under my name. But it’s nothing big, really. It’s a project by our local government, a biography about our city’s local hero. That is why it cannot be sold in bookstores.” I was of course referring to “Captain Remo: The Young Hero“, a book which catapulted me to fame in our apartment building.

We then discussed a few things about the consignment of the book, and of course its author. “You know, I find Guillermo a very radical writer! How is he now?” he asked while holding a copy of The Filipino State. I suddenly remembered that they both know each other personally. I described to him his fellow writer’s condition, then he boasted that at 94, he could still walk around. “I’m turning 95 next month!” I feigned surprise. “I’m older than him by several years and yet I can still walk around. How old is he now?”

I suddenly forgot Señor Gómez’s age, so I just told him his year of birth: 1936. Because I’m bad at math. Humorously, Manong Frankie still made me count. “O, 1936. ¿Eh ‘di ilang taon na iyón?“

My golly. I saw Jefe behind him taking photos of the room. I called out to him. “Jefe, 1936 si Señor. So how old is he now?” I asked while counting nervously with my fingers. I turned my head back to the National Artist. “See? I’m bad at math,” I chuckled. I was irritated at myself as to why at that moment I totally forgot Señor Gómez’s age. And doubly irritating was that Jefe couldn’t do the math too. De tal palo, tal astillo. 😆

La imagen puede contener: una persona, sentada, interior y texto

I didn’t know that my son Jefe was taking pictures of my impromptu meeting with a living legend.

 

The small talk ventured to other topics: his life, his writings, and my most favorite topic of all — his best friend Nick Joaquín. And when I told him how much I idolized his friend, it made him all the more joyous.

He then repeated the oft-told story of how he beat Nick in arguments. “He tells me that if not for the Spaniards, I would have remained an Igorot. Ang sagót co namán, eh di más mabuti pa ñgâ, ¡hahaha!” I faked a laughter. “Whenever he loses in a discussion, he takes his handkerchief from his pocket and waves them at me as a sign of surrender!”

I’m familiar with the story, but that is very contrary to Nick’s biography written by his late nephew Antonio “Tony” Joaquín. According to the biography, Nick would blow his nose and shove the snot-filled handkerchief to his Frankie friend. 😆 This funny scene was also discussed in Sari Dalena’s documentary “Dahling Nick”. I almost raised the issue to him, but I thought better.

“There was never a week when he was not here,” he declared proudly. I was waiting for him to tell me that Nick used to sit on the same stool that I was using. I would have embraced it right there and then. But he never did. “Nung namatáy si Nick, napaiyác talagá acó, eh.” I told him that I already saw Dalena’s documentary where a footage of him crying while delivering his eulogy at the Cultural Center of the Philippines was shown. That scene made me tear up, too.

“Actually, sir, I almost met Nick twice.” I saw a shimmer in his almost half-closed eyes, rendered as such due to more than nine decades on earth. “Señor Gómez was to introduce me to him many years ago, but on both occasions they didn’t materialize.” I noticed that both husband and wife were listening intently, so I continued. “And then a few years after that, I found out on the Internet that Nick already died. I was at the office when I read about the sad news. I then left my office cubicle, went to some isolated corner, then cried my heart out.”

Upon hearing that I’m an office worker, he suddenly changed the topic by asking me where I work. I told him that I’m a technical support representative at Mærsk (Manang chimed in that she knows the company), and that I’ve been working the night shift for fifteen years already. I sensed a hint of pity on Manong’s countenance upon hearing my predicament. For a fleeting moment, I remember his writings on social justice, about the toils and challenges of Filipinos belonging to the lower rungs of society. One unforgettable line that really struck a chord in me was from an impoverished character of his from his most famous novel, “The Pretenders”…

I really don’t ask for much. Just a chance to have my wife and children go through life with the least physical pain. That isn’t much to ask, is it? But in this bloody country, when a millionaire has a cold he goes right away to a fancy clinic in New York. And me, I can’t even afford to have my head examined. Hell, there’s justification in the old class struggle — I don’t care what you call it, but does a rich man have more right to live simply because he has more money?

I could relate to this very much. It seems that Sionil José, himself a victim of social injustice, has a soft spot for people like me, people with dreams but had to become wage slaves just so that they could keep their heads (and dreams) above water.

“Where is your office?” he said. I told him that it’s in Pásig, and that I live in faraway San Pedro Tunasán. Daily commuting to and from the office takes up more or less five hours of my life. “What?!” both husband and wife gasped in horror upon hearing this. I’m sure I heard one of them whisper “Dios co“.

“But at least,” I said, trying to reassure them, “I am still able to read a book during the commute, hehe”. The concerned look on Manong’s face was genuine. For sure, a man like him knows that a writer shouldn’t experience the kind of life that I’m enduring. I also shared to them something personal: that I couldn’t read or write well anymore the way I used to, that my attention span has gotten short, that I couldn’t finish a chapter in a book in one sitting, and I attribute all these ills to my night toils.

“I think you should go see a psychiatrist,” Manang said from her desk. I didn’t know if I should laugh or comment back. I just muttered “a psychiatrist” while looking at her with wondering eyes. Her husband then called my attention to another topic.

We talked about many other things: the Spanish language situation in the country (he was delighted to hear that I teach my kids the language and expressed his sadness that it did not become widespread in our country), his celebrated arguments with his friend Nick, and a host of other subjects. But I couldn’t stay the whole night. Manong looked at his wristwatch and politely told me that he and his wife had an appointment. So that’s why both were dressed up. “We are going social climbing!” We all laughed.

Before leaving, I asked if I could have a photo op with him. He was very accommodating. Jefe was already gone, so I rushed downstairs for the cellphone camera. She didn’t want to go up as she was busy with her phone (“kids” these days). I had to ask my son Jefe to take our photo. I rushed back up. Juanito and Junífera Clarita were still all over the mezzanine. My golly! Manong Frankie was just gazing at them while telling something to his wife. Upon seeing me, he then asked me about my kids, my family, and other personal stuff. Before our conversation could turn another half hour, I heard Yeyette finally climbing up the stairs. Seeing Manong Frankie, she tactlessly said: “O, ¿ayos na cayó?” She was aware of last year’s online vitriol that I had with the fictionist, but she didn’t know that I did not tell anything to him that it was I who wrote all that, haha!

The jolly and candid person that she is, Yeyette proceeded on greeting the esteemed couple, asked for their age, showed surprise when she got the answer, then asked for tips on what diet we should take for longevity, much to my embarrassment (no wonder why Junífera Clarita kept on talking and talking and talking: she got it from her Mamá). She didn’t have any idea of Manong Frankie’s literary worth, so I told the latter to excuse her for her forthrightness of character because she doesn’t read books. Manong was laughing heartily. My wife really amused him.

We then had the obligatory picture taking. I was asking for only one, but my wife had wanted more. Goodness gracious…

La imagen puede contener: 5 personas, incluidos Pepe Alas y Jennifer Perey-Alas, personas sonriendo, personas sentadas y calzado

Me, Junífera Clarita, F. Sionil José, Juanito, and Yeyette. Photo by Jefe.

La imagen puede contener: 2 personas, incluido Jennifer Perey-Alas, personas sonriendo, primer plano

Manong Frankie and Yeyette.

La imagen puede contener: 2 personas, incluido Jennifer Perey-Alas, interior

Manang Teresita and Yeyette.

As I shook his hand, I said to him: “I may not have met Nick in person, but I feel that I have already met him through you.” He looked very, very pleased.

 * * * * * * *

It was hard for me to contain my amusement and excitement as we went downstairs. There I was, planning only to see Solidaridad’s manager, but I ended up chatting with the owner himself who also happens to be one of the country’s greatest literary figures alive today (and a dear friend of my favorite writer). As we were about to leave, the corner of my eye caught a glimpse of “Mass”, the last of Manong Frankie’s five-part Rosales novels. I have an embarrassing confession to make: I have not yet completed my collection of Manong Frankie’s famous Rosales saga until that night. I already have in my possession for years the first four novels (Po-on; Tree; My Brother, My Executioner, and; The Pretenders), but Mass was the only book missing. Whenever I chanced upon it in bookstores, I always didn’t have money. Now was the perfect time, I thought. What better way to cap off my collection than to buy the book from where it was originally published and sold! And perfectly still: I will have it signed by the author himself!

After the unplanned purchase, I excitedly ran upstairs for an autograph, but I saw that the José couple were already descending, assisted by Mr. Guayabera. I just waited for them at the book store’s lobby. They were trudging slowly due to old age.

At Ms. Unsmiling Girl’s desk, F. Sionil José wrote a message on my purchase. It was there when he finally asked for my name.

I froze.

La imagen puede contener: Pepe Alas, sonriendo, sentada y texto

Photo: Yeyette Alas.

“What is your name?” he repeated.

“Ummm… Pepe.”

“Pepe?” He was waiting for me to tell him my last name.

“Umm… Pepe… Alas?”

¿Ha?

“Pepe Alas, sir.”

¿Anó?” he said, drawing his right ear to my face.

“You have to speak loudly,” called his wife who was already at the door, looking amused. “He is already hard of hearing”. But I was very close to him. Besides, we didn’t have that aural problem upstairs, even if we were about a meter or two apart from each other. He was able to hear me well during that tête-à-tête.

“It’s Alas, sir. A-L-A-S.”

“Alas?” he asked, almost frowning.

“Yes, sir.” He gazed at me for several seconds. I could have sworn he recognized the name (“Aha! It’s that bastard, trying-hard, sonuvabitch of a blogger who was hoping to go viral at my expense!”). But he proceeded to sign the book, anyway. I must have seen a scowl on his face, but I could be mistaken. He didn’t say anything to me after signing the book. He had another cheerful talk with my wife before we all said our goodbyes (Yeyette later told me that Manong was just inquiring if we are teaching our kids Spanish, she said yes, and it delighted him). They were going somewhere else, to social climb, as what he had told me upstairs.

As my family marched towards Taft, F. Sionil José, with bastón in hand, was still sending us off with a gaze.

* * * * * * *

I read the book immediately upon arriving home. I was amused to learn that the protagonist’s name was also a Pepe. Pepe Samson.

Had I known about this before, I would have told Manong Frankie that Samson was my last name.

La imagen puede contener: bebida

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