SIDE TRIP 33: Syort Taym sa Davao

“Manong, kanang barato pero limpio!” was our urgent appeal to the taxi driver. I was with our pretty lady accountant, Nikki, on our first trip to Davao and we had no idea where to stay. Miki and Nikki. Cute no? Like Mickey and Minnie Mouse, heheh.

We both worked for a government corporation involved in livelihood development for the poverty sectors and we were in Davao to firm up projects with several NGOs doing microfinance work. But before we could do grand things like that (ha!), we had to find lodgings first. And the easiest way to do that we thought was to ask the taxi driver.

I guess I have to tell you that back then, per diem for lowly government employees on travel was insanely low. And that measly amount already included provisions for hotel accommodations. Certainly not enough if you chose to go solo. We always traveled in pairs -- male and female, one for financial audit and the other for operations audit. And so, to make ends meet, it became standard practice for partners to share a hotel room to save on costs.

And so it came to be that me and the pretty accountant were asking the taxi driver to bring us to any barato-pero-limpio hotel in downtown Davao. Usually, the ones regularly patronized by salesmen and medreps were OK and within our budget range.

“Kana!” we almost shouted to the driver when we passed by a small building with the sign “Family Pension Hotel” on its facade. We figured that with a name like that, it gotta be “safe”. But when we got inside the room, there was only one bed! Good thing it was queen size so Nikki and I decided to just share the bed and put a pillow in the middle to serve as demarcation line.

In the morning as we were going out to meet with an NGO representative, Nikki asked the front desk clerk if he could please put a trash can inside the room because there wasn’t anything to put our garbage in. The clerk was visibly puzzled. “Bakit Ma’am, mag-extend pa kayo???”

Waaaahhh!!! Pang-short time pala napasukan namin!!!

SIDE TRIP 32: Ati-ati sa Akean

Trust the Church to attach something religious to an otherwise pagan celebration. The original mardi gras-type festival in the Philippines was in fact an event to celebrate the sale of Panay Island to the Borneans. The original inhabitants of the island, the dark-skinned and kinky-haired Ati, bartered the island sometime in the 13^th century in exchange for a golden salakot.

To celebrate the sale, the fair-skinned Borneans smeared black soot all over their body so they will look like an Ati. Thus the Ati-atihan - meaning “to make like an Ati” – was born. Every year thereafter, the ritual of painting their bodies with black soot is repeated, along with the frenzy of uninhibited drinking and merrymaking. The Borneans eventually settled in the lowlands (of whom I am a descendant) while the naturally nomadic Atis retreated further inland, into the mountains where most of them remain to this day. (Sadly, now-called indigenous peoples, they are the object of shameless discrimination. But that is another story.)

When the Spaniards came, they very cleverly attached the feast of the Child Jesus into the Ati-ati (Akeanons refer to the revelry as Ati-ati, not Ati-atihan) and so today, you hear the lusty cheer of the more pagan “Hala bira! Puera pasma!” along with the more fervent “Viva el Senor Santo Nino! Viva!”

When I was younger, the Ati-ati was the only festival of its kind in the Philippines. Shiploads of tourists (mostly rich Negrenses) and Europeans flocked to Kalibo every third week of January. Pretty soon, every province it seemed has its own version. Iloilo came up with Dinagyang. Cebu followed suit with Sinulog. Capiz had Halaran while Antique had Binirayan. Negros went for Masskara. Baguio had Panagbenga. These days, streetdancing and festivals are a dime a dozen, with many more being born almost every year. The Filipino sure knows how to have fun.

Hala bira!

HAPPY TRIP 3: I Not Stupid

Over the last two Saturday nights, I’d chanced upon great viewing fare that was quite a relief from the usual landscape of formulaic and irritating shows on free TV. The long-standing network war between ABS-CBN and GMA has led to a kind of programming that verge on the ridiculous. Same formats, same lazy productions, same convoluted melodrama, same tired plots (or lack of it). Makes me want to bang their skulls and holler “Hello? Anybody home?” I not stupid!

Lately, I “discovered” ABC5 as a good viewing alternative. And that was only because I wanted at first to see how the Pinoy contestants are faring in the hit American reality TV shows Rockstar INXS (MiG Ayesa) and So You Think You Can Dance (Melody Lacayanga and Ryan Conferido). It gives me a nice feeling to see Pinoys showing the world what kind of terrific stuff we are made of. Last year, I also watched American Idol only because there were Pinoys competing.

Then two Saturdays ago, I accidentally caught a gem of a movie late at night. Surprise, surprise! It was a Singaporean film! Horrors, I thought. Not another bunch of buhaghag-free ladies fighting to be chief cook in the palace! Thankfully it was not! The little film was called “Chicken Rice War”, about two feuding families engaged in one-upmanship about who makes the best Chicken Rice dish. It had a lot to say about relationships and being our own man (or woman). Along the way, small everyday, ordinary things are tackled with great humor and care.

Last Saturday they showed another comedy, “I Not Stupid”, a well-crafted allegory for the social realities of modern-day Singapore. It poked fun on Singapore’s much-maligned “obedience” and how the push for over-achievement is affecting children negatively, including contemplating suicide in the face of “failure” in school.

These kinds of “small” films illustrate that shows need not be expensive and outlandish to be entertaining. Good scripts and dead-on acting carry them through. And they say a lot about the status quo without moralizing and resorting to a hard-sell approach.

My only complaint with the latter was a reference to “Filipino maids” in one of the dialogues. Then again, I guess being politically-correct is far from the Singaporean’s concept of what is correct behavior in their context.

CHICKEN RICE WAR and I NOT STUPID