Stories, Poetry, Interviews, Reviews and Articles

more on torero

2008-09-10T14:51:00.000-07:00

Listening
to dreams
Torero's doesn't weep.

He
turns away
from the sound.

A resolute man,
Torero has
always

been
decisive and
decided about what

needs to be done.

#

His job title
Mechanica Man
means

tuning in to
the sounds
of

the world beyond
the paradise
wall.

He listens for
the cough
of

a motor yielding,
hearkens to
the

sound of brakes
screeching, giving
way

as the road
slides down
into

the balance between
life and
death.

It is often
death for
the

machine.
And the
abyss claims the

carcass
of discarded
bodies, some still

shiny and new
gleaming chrome
and

sweet-smelling leather everywhere.
From this
Torero's

calculating eye sees
the body
they

can put together.
Already he
knows

what form can
be pulled
from

resilience.
He knows
what shapes hide

within the curved
contours of
bumpers

doors
sweet and
dark secretive undercarriages.

#

For all his
years and
expertise

he has never
found a
one

to compare to
her who
lives

her life of
lonely happiness
beyond

the wall that
keeps them
apart.

third movement==alternate girl dreams and torero listens

2008-09-10T14:04:00.000-07:00

In the middle
of the
night

she
hears a
crunch and knows

whose
teeth are
making that noise.

She doesn't need
the lights.
She

doesn't need to
see his
face.

Memory
is printed
onto the coils

of her inner
circuits. She
knows

he won't stop
searching until
he

finds
skin and
bone and crunches

them to powder
between his
teeth.

#

Far away, nightmares
find their
way

to
where Torero
watches the dark.

Whispers
of her
fear filter through

the paradise wall
and he
knows

he could be
wretched, but
she

suffers
her life
in imagined freedom

with a pain
that goes
deeper

than the pain
he carries
in

the shell of
his metal
casing.

Above him the
Memory Tower
sways

Rocked by night
winds, it
dances

under lonely stars,
the songs
of

those gone before
reminding citizens
below

"we gave up
everything so
you

might have this
hope of
someday

reaching up high
and breaching
this

wall
that keeps
us away from

the paradise we
are told
exists

on the other
side of
this

wall."

True Chapter Two -- Torero

2008-08-25T13:15:00.000-07:00

Torero
stares out
into the dark.

Below,
the city
sleeps and dreams.

At this time
of night
remembrance

visits
and reminds
Torero of possibilities.

Could have beens
he's left
behind.

Tomorrow's
routine lies
mapped inside the

circuits
of his
good left brain.

Tick
through lists:
things to do,

things to say,
things to
recall,

deactivate,
assimilate, revalidate,
deconstruct, reconstruct, reactivate.

His
life ruled
by these lists

they never let
go, not
even

in the dark
of night
when

all
the city
lies sleeping, dreaming,

tossing,
turning on
the currents of

lost
hopes and
empty pocket promises.

Torero closes his eyes and makes a wish.

#

Long ago, when
he was
new

a young rebuild
filled with
dreams

he
thought the
city was more

than this assemblage
of metal
struts

decaying
corpses of
dead and gutted

utility
vehicles. Discards
of another earth.

Someone told him.
He laughed,
looked

up at the
memory tower
imagined he could

reach up to
the very
top

thought
he could
see the future

shining
down on
him, beckoning him

to fulfill his
full potential.
Be

what you were
created to
be.

So the slogan
goes. He
bought

it all. Hook,
line and
sinker.

Believed
because he
didn't dare to

look
beyond what
they wanted him

to.
The mechanics,
old slogan masters,

builders
and sustainers
of a lifestyle

existing only on
this side
of

the paradise wall.

No
one ever
breaches the wall

they told him.
and he
would

have
kept the
faith, 100% believing.

If not for
her. She
haunts

him still. The
only one
who

ever got away.
He'll never
forget

her
face or
the serial number

on a plate
now part
of

the shielding over
his heart.
Betrayal

or
hope. He
can only keep

on believing she's
somewhere out
beyond

the paradise wall
living the
dream

she always talked
about. Alternate
Girl.

He speaks her
name aloud
cherishing

this secret moment
before he
erases

it from the
memory loop.
Maybe...

falls
into the
labyrinth of mangled

wishes
never spoken
aloud, just in

case someone hears.

##

forgiveness

2008-08-25T13:11:00.000-07:00

forgive
the author
who has sinned

committed
this act
of secret violence

against the form
committed trespass
without

the reader's knowledge
and so
compromised

a story's heart
for the
sake

of
a vision
the creature thought

existed.
Let us
proceed as intended

by
story undirected
by the author's

manipulations.
Release story
into this form

This is the
act of
penance.

The previous chapter
erased as
if

it had never
been told
or

written
or thought
or brought to

life.
Let us
proceed as story

intended
before human
thought stepped in.

Chapter Two -- in which we meet Adventure Boy

2008-06-17T09:58:00.000-07:00

Adventure Boy waits
at the
junction

between
Metal Town
and the road

to anywhere you
want to
be.

He listens to
the sound
of

distant
traffic--the
gentle susurrus of

wheels
and wind
and knows help

isn't as near
as wishes
it.

He bends,inspects
the wheel
mutters

an imprecation. He
should have
known.

Things
happen at
the worst times.

A flat tire
in the
middle

of nowhere is
not exactly
his

idea of convenience.
He looks
back

towards the sound
of traffic
and

shakes his head.
He looks
forward

to where the
tops of
metal

struts
seem to
pierce the afternoon

sky.
He sighs.
He can take

the long walk
back to
the

highway
or take
the short walk

to the center
of this
place

often
heard about
but never seen.

#

If
you asked
he would tell

you the truth.
He has
no

recollection
of where
he came from.

He only remembers
following the
road

and getting here.
If asked
he

would say he
wishes he
could

remember
father, mother,
sisters, brothers, aunts

the entire gamut
of family
each

of us possess
and yet
he,

this Adventure Boy,
does not
remember

ever having. All
he remembers
is

journeying
from one
town to the

next
in search
of an unnameable

in search of
an unknown
something.

#

He shoulders his
backpack, locks
his

door
inspects the
road and starts

walking.
And this
is how he

meets Alternate Girl
a.k.a. Tough
Girl.

#

Shift back to
now, shift
back

to Alternate Girl
with her
eyes

closed
as memory
rushes through her.

A cliché of
waves rushing
in

from the sea,
a cliché
of

the ocean’s roar
multiplied inside
her

head.
This is
how she remembers

meeting
Adventure Boy.
This is how

she
remembers the
start of forever

after.

#

Once
she was
their fearless leader.

A
bunch of
Metal Town kids.

Born to this
life. Born
with

the knowledge of
this is
how

today looks like
but tomorrow
could

be the day
our lives
end.

They travel the
insides of
their

town.
They possess
the hidden highways,

Own
secret networks
and secret signals.

When
Adventure Boy
starts walking the

system is activated.
Hoots and
Whistles

The thrumming of
Heels on
Metal

Pipes,
All send
A warning signal.

Stranger Approaching. Beware.
It is
She

Who
Meets this
Stranger. It is

She who comes
Out into
The

Open,
Confronts him
And asks him

“what’s your business
In Metal
Town?”

#

She remembers the
Sunshine. His
Eyes.

Brown
With flecks
Of golden light.

She remembers her
Breath stopping
And

The queer sound
Her heart
makes

He smiles and
It is
like

catching
sight of
a beautiful dream.

She is awkward
And shy
And

Conscious
Of the
Angles of her

Body
And the
Way her clothes

Are
Two sizes
Much too large

She
wishes she
had taken time
to wipe away
the stains
from

fixing
cars and
riding the rails

and even though
he doesn’t
do

anything but smile
she resents
him

for making her
feel uncertain
and

unfamiliar
and suddenly
so very unsure

of her role
as renegade
leader
of this ragtag
band of
boys

and
girls. Metaltowners
just like her.

2008-06-07T05:27:00.000-07:00

First Alternate Girl post is here
Second Part of Chapter One
Third part of Chapter one up to end of Chapter One
Alternate Girl (interlude): Introducing Metal Town

Interlude (Alternate Girl)

2008-06-05T23:47:00.000-07:00

Metal Town is
neither here
nor

there.
It is
everywhere and anywhere.

It moves with
the wind
and

travels with the
breeze. It
follows

the road and
the traveler
who

trusts the road
to take
him

there.
Metal Town
is not for

the gentle heart
Or weak
kneed.

Metal Town is
for tough
girls

In a previous
life, Alternate
Girl

was Tough Girl.
**

Alternate Girl (the rest of chapter one)

2008-06-05T01:16:00.001-07:00

Alternate girl follows
the curve
of

the Pasig River;
follows its
wind,

follows
its stink.
Murky waters old
as
time. (no
matter how you

dredge
the memory
of stink remains.)

She
sees lights
on the river,

Lights along the
river bank,
Knows

whose homes are
lighted by
candles

and whose homes
are connected
with

illegal wires to
cables running
from

one street to
the other.
Age-old

practice
you don’t
forget no matter

the number of
miles/airmiles
you collect from

years of flying
to and
fro

between
this place
and that continent.

She follows the
river and
lights,

listens
to sounds
carried on wind.

It
is never
silent in this

place.
There is
always someone crying.

There is always
someone cursing,
always

someone
praying for
help that doesn’t

arrive-
at least
never on time.

Until tonight.
***
Float
on with
your ears open.

You will hear
a baby
crying.

Its wails piercing
the restless
night.

Its forlorn cry
hushing fighting
couples,

Stealing the breath
from cursing
boys

Turning the thief
from his
stealing.

She follows the
cry. Floats
on

until she sees
a poor
excuse

for a house.
***
Inside
a mother
holds a baby.

She
must have
been a beauty

before she said
Yes and
embraced

this life so
much the
same

as the lives
her parents
lived.

What else is
there to
dream

of
when you
don’t see anything

but
this and
when you don’t

hear anyone say
you are
better

you can be
better than
this?

***

Alternate Girl watches
through the
window.

Sees the mother
wipe tears
away.

Her heart breaks.
she could
have

been
that mother.
She could have

been
that long
ago beauty queen

crying
tears over
a feverish child.
***

Third act…

Alternate girl’s home
built of
brick

the front garden
her calling
card.

Every other Monday
she attacks
weeds

gardening
in style:
flowered rubber boots

the latest shovel
anti-insect spray
anti-snail

anti-aphid
anti-mildew, anti-rot
anti-every possible pest

you can think
of under
the

sun.
Of which,
There isn’t much

all year round.
Unlike back
home

where the sun
always shines
or

so
the travel
brochures proudly declare.

She
lavishes care
on her perennials

brushes
their leaves
to high shine

Wraps bubble wrap
around them
when

temperatures
sink below
zero. Waters them

during
summer months
that are slowly

turning
tropical. It’s
almost like home.

Almost
but not
quite the same.

Enjoy
the summer
while you can

when
winter comes
you can dream

all you want
but the
sun

never shines bright
and warm
like

it does right
here and
now.
***

Question:
What do
You miss most?

Who do you
Miss most?
If

You
Had one
Wish what would

You wish for?

Alternate girl
Stares

At
The screen
Another silly questionnaire

Always
The same
Spam, spam mail

Except
This one
Comes from friends

They think it’s
A sign
Of

Friendship
To pass
On the junk

That makes them
Laugh. Because
Laughter

Is
A precious
Commodity. Not to

Be wasted on the ungrateful.

She answers the
Questions anyway.
Silly

Or not, she
loves her
Friends.

***
Evenings
Hubby returns
From the office

Long hours spent
Behind a
Desk

Somewhere in a
Giant warehouse
Lost

Among a hundred
Other employees
All

Wearing
The same
Color of shirt

All
Working towards
Same nameless goal.

How many numbers
Have you
Added

Up today? How
Many numbers?
How

Many?
That’s how
Alternate girl imagines

It.
She doesn’t
Envy her husband.

His job provides
Food, shelter,
Clothing

Luxuries,
Garden supplies
Cleaning supplies, everything

The excess baggage
Of life
And

So on and
So forth
And

So on and
So forth
Until

Until…
***

Return to Pasig
To a
Hut

On the banks
Of the
River

Return to the
Place where
You

Hover
Over the
Poor mother’s shoulder

Return to where
Her tears
Spill

Over her baby
Poor, emaciated
Ragged

Fighting for breath
Fighting for
Life.

Hope
Fighting for
Life in this

Hovel of broken
Dreams. Home
To

Mother and son
Fighting for
Life

Because
As long
As you live

You have hope.
Alternate girl
Sees

Hope’s
Gentle spark
Lighting the corners

Of this tiny
Excuse called
Home.

She
Sees the
Mother’s hands are

Calloused
And worn
From washing clothes.

This
Is where
Dreams of glory

Give way to
The fight
For

Life,
The mundane
Struggle to survive,

The fight for
A better
Future.

A tomorrow for:
This baby
Gasping

For the next
Breath and
Crying

An angry wail
Angry and
Wild.

Life
Pouring out
Of its pores

Alternate girl thinks:
It will
Break

The baby will
Break into
Pieces

It will split
Apart and
Burst

Into a million
unquiet atoms
Populating

Space
With the
Echo of its

Cry, its cough
Its unrelenting
Fight

Its
Unyielding hold
Because as long

As you fight
As long
As

You live there
Is always
Hope.

***

Alternate girl wakes.
It is
Midnight.

The walls of
Her room
Are

Dark
Around her
Everything is dark.

In the silence
Her husband
Snores,

Turns
Over, falls
Silent, snores again.

Rising and falling
In the
Quiet,

She is weeping
Into her
Pillow,

Remembering
Another mother
Holding another child,

Pleading for life,
Pleading for
Help

That never comes,
Until too
Late.

(It's still quite rough, but there you are. This is the end of the first chapter in the life of Alternate Girl. Chapter two: Alternate Girl meets Adventure Boy...coming soon).

Alternate Girl (part two)--alternate girl dreams

2008-06-04T09:37:00.000-07:00

Alternate girl dreams
she is
flying

over
Manila. Home
to a hundred

and one dreamers
just like
her.

She glides across
the midnight
sky

hovers
above a
group of teenagers

It’s late, she
wants to
whisper

Shouldn’t
you all
be in bed?

Not
out here
on the streets

serenading
the moon
with puffs of

smoke,
fumes of
beer, relics of

the day’s conversation.
They won’t
listen.

They won’t pay
any attention.
Typical.

Alternate girl thinks.

Alternate Girl (a serialized hay(na)ku story--part one)

2008-06-04T09:02:00.000-07:00

After a while
all the
pretty

girls
get married.
The ultimate achievement?

After the honeymoons
do they
ever

wonder
about the
“What could have

beens?”

***
Alternate girl dreams
about the
country.

Far away from
her kitchen
window

she thinks life
could be
better.

She
sees fields
stretching out into

an unending vista
of "what
ifs".

A dutiful wife,
a loving
mother

the model “huisvrouw”.
Her garden
flourishes.

Springtime
brings one
hundred wisteria blossoms.

White English roses
climb her
pergola,

honeysuckle,
digitalis purpurea,
interspersed with lavender

from
Southern France.
Gardening = passion.

Weeds
are her
number one enemy.
***

Recent and Upcoming Publications

2008-01-19T15:37:00.000-08:00

Gift -- published in Flash Me Magazine
Rituals of Grief -- published in Reflection's Edge Magazine
The Wordeaters -- upcoming in Weird Tales Magazine

OMFLit Philippines released a book entitled Hope Away from Home. Nine excerpts from my poetic memoir are included in this book which is authored by Evelyn Miranda-Feliciano.

Publications Available Online

2007-08-23T15:00:00.000-07:00

Boy in the Bush on TeenAge Magazine

Deep in the mountain villages of the Philippines, a boy must make his choice. Based on true events.

Falling In Love on The ChickFlicks Ezine

My Skin, Us in Route's Skin Byteback Book

more coming soon...

more soon...

2006-06-21T02:25:00.000-07:00

A Night of Asian Music and Dances, featuring the AILM Chorale –Asian Ensemble
a review by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz
(appears in Munting Nayon, July 2006 issue )

The Geertekerk with its simple structure and its high ceilings seemed a fitting frame for the performance of the AILM Chorale-Asian Ensemble.

Known for its outstanding performance of contemporary works of Asian composers and folk song arrangements, the AILM Chorale is also known as the foremost exponent of Asian church music. Not only that, but according to conductor, Jonathan Velasco, “there is not a single western piece in AILM’s repertoire,”

Composed of 40 members coming from different parts of Asia, and conducted by Jonathan Velasco, the chorale’s performance on the evening of May 24th was the first in a series of activities launched by Stichting Bayanihan to mark its 15th year of service to the Filipino community in The Netherlands.

Gathering was the first movement on the evening’s programme. We were greeted by a dance and song performance originating from Flores Island, Indonesia, inviting people to gather and praise the Lord. Following this first piece, the choir proceeded to sing Awit sa Panginoon, a song of worship composed by contemporary Filipino composer, Robin Estrada.

These two songs, Wahai Seiuruh Bumi Pujilah Iuhan ( Indonesian) and Awit sa Panginoon (Filipino), marked the beginning of an evening of entertainment, awe, and celebration.

The second movement of the chorale’s repertoire for the evening, was entitled Meditation. Here, we were gifted with songs such as Wing of Light and Mercy, To the Unnamed Light, and Giong Ngo Ko.

While all these pieces were sung with equal musicality, the one song that stands out in my memory is the performance of the second song in this movement.

To the Unnamed Light (arranged by Francisco Feliciano), is a song that is a translation of poet Rabindranath Tagore’s poem of the same title: “Life sends us in a blade of grass/ its silent hymn of praise/ to the unnamed light.

The elements of eastern mysticism and faith were almost tangible in the way the choir performed this piece so that it moves from being mere sung music into an art form. We are reminded not only aurally, but visually as well, of how worship is a revolution of the soul towards God. Stationing members of the female choir along the sides of the church, the men of the chorale in the center and with the lead soprano at the front, produced a full-stereo effect magnified by the acoustics of the church’s high ceilings.

While the men produced a bass humming accompaniment, the clear tones of the women mirrored the crystal sounding of the bell rung by the lead soprano.

Perhaps an interesting note here, is how all of the evening’s repertoire were sung a capella. The exceptions to this were songs and dances where indigenous instruments were used and the second half of the programme where the guitar accompanied Filipino songs.

Following this we moved on to the third movement where we were greeted with songs of celebration from: India, from the Igorot tribe of the Philippines and from Kalinga. This section ended with Gangsa players and dance, where the members of the chorale presented a traditional celebratory song and dance from Kalinga. Dressed in indigenous attire, the women in their woven skirts, the men in their bahag with gongs and wooden bamboo sticks in hand, this performance was greeted with cheers. A fitting end to the first half of the evening’s performance.

After the intermission, we were treated to a selection of folksongs and dances from different parts of Asia. A courtship song from Batak, Indonesia, a folksong from Betawi, Indonesia, a song to celebrate the Festival of Light in Thailand, a song expressing happiness and joy from Singapore and Malaysia, and a dance based on the Islamic movements of worshipping Allah.

Worth noting here, is the performance of the Saman Dance (Aceh, Indonesia ). Starting with slow movements, almost like child’s play, accelerating up to a speed which I’ve been told has been known to cause injury if one of the dancers should perform a move wrong or lag behind in rhythm, this number was well-received and applauded.

Following this, the AILM chorale proceeded to sing six Filipino songs dear to the hearts of many of those seated in the audience. Certainly, we are all familiar with songs such as Waway, Ti ayat ti meysa nga ubing, Pokpok Alimpako and Rosas Pandan. During this section of the performance, you could hear some of the audience humming or singing along under their breaths. A medley of Tagalog songs was greeted with equal enthusiasm, and as the evening drew to a close, the feeling of nostalgia weighed heavy in the air.

As with every performance that captures our hearts, there was a mass reluctance to leave. In response to the audience’s cries of encore, the AILM proceeded to sing for us the well-known Dahil sa Iyo, and a moving rendition of Ryan Cayabyab’s composition entitled, Paraiso.

Finally, the evening was over. We left the church, our heads still ringing with the sounds of Asia. For our European friends, the evening was an entertainment allowing them a deeper insight and appreciation of our culture . For us, the Filipino audience, I believe the evening made a deeper connection as these songs carried us back to our hometowns, and to the memories of a place we long for, and have left behind.

2006-06-21T02:18:00.000-07:00

Stichting Bayanihan – Philippine Women’s Centre in The Netherlands
By Rochita Loenen-Ruiz
( appeared on Pinoyexpats.org in March/April issue )

“Bayanihan is a Filipino word meaning “neighbourly cooperation” or helping each other. Stichting Bayanihan is a self-help women organisation, established in 1991, providing various forms of assistance and support to any and all Filipino women who are living (temporarily or permanently) and/or working (documented or undocumented) in the Netherlands. It is a service and training centre for Filipinas who are in problem situations and those needing assistance for self-development to make their lives as Filipina migrants more meaningful and fulfilling.”
-excerpt from Stichting Bayanihan folder-

Perhaps one of the challenges of moving to The Netherlands is the lack of common denominators. Here, the migrant is faced with issues pertaining not only to adjustment in terms of culture, society, weather and food, but also with the need to learn a new language and perhaps acquire another education.

What do you do when you are a Filipina coming to a country that does not speak English? Where do you go when you realize the diploma you’ve worked so hard for is no use unless you can speak Dutch? What about if you are an au pair who interprets the word for what it is - as an exchange of social meanings? What if your employer equates that word with personal slave? What if your husband reveals himself to be, not the charming well-spoken man who promised you the world, but rather an abusive moronic fellow who says you are good for nothing? What if you are struggling on the brink of depression, and have isolated yourself from the world because you no longer know why you left everything behind for this cold country? What to do? Where to go? Whom to see?

Bayanihan strives to provide answers to these questions. As the only professional service institution for Filipinas in The Netherlands, the foundation’s program includes rendering Social Services assistance – it not only gives practical tips, but provides intensive guidance and counselling to Filipinas in various problem-situations who are in need of immediate and direct help. It has a telephone helpline devoted entirely to receiving calls from Filipinas who need information, immediate help or who simply need to talk. It provides follow-up support activities, as well as special support services for Filipina au pairs.

Bayanihan’s program also involves networking, lobbying and advocacy. Her lobby and advocacy work are primarily on migration laws, independent residence permits for women, on working conditions, welfare and health services, and equal job opportunities. Bayanihan works together and cooperates with local and national Dutch organizations, and with European and Philippine-based organizations as well.

Bayanihan disseminates information on the situation of Filipinas in the Netherlands and on the causes of their migration from the Philippines. It also conducts and initiates researches and surveys on issues concerning target groups, and it compiles and publishes primers and pamphlets on existing laws and policies which are relevant to their work and to the Filipina Migrants in a Dutch society.

As a preventive strategy, Bayanihan conducts for its target groups (skills and awareness-raising) trainings and seminars such as (a) assertiveness training; (b) basic women orientation; (c) inter-cultural communication; (d) leadership training; (e) basic counselling ; (f) gender-based violence; and (g) bi-cultural parenting. Bayanihan’s resource persons and trainors are experts on and have concrete experiences on the relevant subject matter and specific cases.

Bayanihan started out as a social service committee of DAMAYAN, another Filipino organization in 1988. In 1991, Bayanihan became an independent foundation as a response to the needs of the Filipina migrants in the Netherlands who confront integration-related problems, such as difficulties in cultural, marital and psychological adjustments, to various entanglements with the Dutch legal system.

Since coming into contact with Bayanihan in 1999, I see how Bayanihan as a foundation has grown from that place of lending a helping hand, a listening ear and a rescuing arm to becoming a place where Filipinas regain that sense of community and connection that is so essential to our culture. As a professional organization, it continues to train and develop a network of volunteers comprised of Filipinas who join hands together to work towards a common goal.

In the sharing of experiences, in the call for joined hands, in its dedication towards helping her fellow Filipinas Bayanihan provides a platform from which the Filipina can say to the Dutch society, “I have a voice and therefore I am.”

During the recent celebration of International Women’s Day, Bayanihan hosted discussions centred on the present day issues of integration and participation. An open dialogue between the Filipino participants and non-Filipino participants brought us to a deeper understanding of how integration works as a two way street, and how we can speak up to influence the Dutch political decision-making process.

Organizations like Bayanihan free Filipinas to embark on journeys of exploration and personal enrichment. They encourage us to be involved and engaged in issues relevant not only to the migrant community but to the Dutch community as a whole.

Bayanihan provides a safe atmosphere where we can share our emotional struggles, fears, experiences, losses as well as triumphs, laughter as well as tears.

Each time I return to Bayanihan, I find myself returning to that sense of connectedness and community. The knowledge that I am not alone, but am surrounded by sisters who have encountered the same struggle restores to me a sense of faith, the awareness of my legacy and history, and the need to pass this on to coming generations.

In becoming a part of Bayanihan, I have experienced how it is to lay aside the biases of my past and take up the cloak of understanding and compassion for others. I find myself awakened to a growing concern and connection to the plight of my countrymen and my countrywomen.

I think of Bayanihan as a representation of the ideal of integration. Adjusting to the culture and accepting the norms of the society it finds itself in, it continues to retain the essential Filipino spirit of pakikipagkapwa, pagkakaisa, pakikibaka and community.

In embracing the spirit of Bayanihan, in becoming a part of this organization, I return to the truth of me being a Filipina in a foreign country.

Perhaps herein lies the strength of the ethic of Bayanihan. It goes far deeper than what is stated on the flyer. In establishing community, we give back to each other our sense of identity and belonging. In helping others find a place in an ever-changing multicultural society, we find our place. In strengthening the weak, we become strong.

How we need organizations like these as a help to those in need of help, as a support for those who need support, as a refuge for those in need of refuge and as a community for those who long for community.

First we are Filipinas, then we are migrants. Bayanihan, Mabuhay ka!

2006-06-21T02:13:00.000-07:00

AN EVENING OF MUSIC, FEATURING FILIPINO CONCERT ARTIST, CECIL LICAD
a review by Rochita Loenen-Ruiz
( Published in Munting Nayon, June 2006)

To listen to Cecil Licad is to witness art in palpable form. It is to understand the interconnection of life and art, music and poetry, composition and translation. It is to hear the piano played by a wizard who translates notes into songs that inhabit the spaces of our soul.

Cecil Licad is a pianist in a class of her own, and the Muziekgebouw aan’t IJ was abuzz with culturally minded Filipinolandia as well as their Dutch counterparts on the 13th of May. The response to the Philippine Embassy’s invitation to attend Miss Licad’s concert was overwhelming.

Consul General a.h.Eppo Horlings gave his welcome address, to an auditorium that was almost full to capacity. After a short speech given by His Excellency, Ambassador Romeo A. Arguelles, the lights dimmed, spotlight focused on centerstage, on the grand piano, and a wave of applause filled the auditorium as Cecil Licad walked onstage.

Anyone looking at this woman could not guess at the power, the wizardry and the skill that lie behind her simple facade. She bows, takes her seat and placing her hands deliberately on the keys, sounds out the first notes of the Fantasie in c-minor by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

This is so typical of Cecil Licad. First, the simple approach, and then the enchantment of her music.

We understand we are in the presence of an artist of superb skill. As the notes unfold, we find ourselves carried along into the passages of the Fantasie created by Mozart, now translated for us by the artist, Cecil Licad. While her rendition of Mozart is more romantic than classical, more expressive than detached, it serves her purpose well as it transports us to a realm where notes cascade and cavort and chase one another over the keyboard. In the hands of a lesser pianist, the expression would be over-dramatized, or the detachment too detached. Cecil produces the perfect mix, inviting the listener to come closer to the music.

In between, a short breather, just enough for the listener to regain his breath, and the musician launches into Chopin’s 12 Etudes op. 25. It is as if Cecil Licad has taken possession of these notes. As if she has torn the music from the page and made it her own. She is the artist who takes us on a whirling dazzling movement of runs, crescendos, diminuendos, dissonances and harmonies which leave the listener breathless.

Listening to her, I could not help but think of how Chopin is called the poet of the piano and how it takes only another poet to understand and translate the works of a poet long gone. I can imagine the piano poet, Chopin, playing these etudes with equal fiery passion..

We are privileged to bear witness to what won her that Leventritt Gold Medal in 1981. We hear power in her control over the music, the strength that is not strident but issues from perfect technique. Her fortes resonate inside our bones, and her pianos and pianissimos seem to draw the very breath from our souls. Every note rings clear and true, her runs are amazingly clean, not a stumble there, and the octave sequences, are a marvel.

Observe the swiftness of her fingers on the keyboard, observe how not a finger is placed carelessly, but all movements are thought out.

Hers is sheer musical poetry, Chopin himself would have risen up in from his grave to clap his hands and shout bravo and bravissimo.

After the twenty minute intermission, we returned to the auditorium to listen to Cecil play the Nocturne by J. Guy Ropartz, and to witness her masterful rendition of Sergej Rachmaninov’s, Sonata no. 2 in B flat minor op. 36.

Rachmaninov’s Sonata no. 2 with its musical layers and technical challenges is a piece that is not easily received by concert goers. In the hands of a lesser musician, the attention of the audience wanders. I believe Rachmaninov himself would have been proud of Cecil Licad’s rendition of this masterpiece.

Masterful as the master, Cecil Licad plays this piece not only flawlessly but she engages her listening public and keeps them hungry for more long after she has lifted her hands from the keyboard to signify the end of the final piece.

It was interesting to note that the programme for the evening gave a listing of classical-romantic-impressionistic and late romantic composers. For an evening purported to promote culture, I noticed a lack of anything Filipino in Miss Licad’s repertoire.

Because of this it was pleasing, as well as an indication of the sensitivity of the musician, when in response to the cries of encore and bravo, Miss Licad performed a very Filipino composition, entitled Maligayang Bati. A poignant rendition as we bear in mind that a majority of her listeners that evening were Filipinos who still dream and long for the beloved country.

Work published in Print publications

2006-05-06T14:21:00.000-07:00

My Skin, Us, Route Online (2007 byteback book)
Borealis, Philippine Speculative Fiction vol. 2
Dark Angel, Benigno, short story in Distant Passages, Best of DEP 2005 anthology
In the News, Poem published by PATMOS
A Walk in the Woods, flash piece published by PATMOS
Becoming, poem published by PATMOS ( to be reprinted in Haruah as filler )
Of Birds and Men, published in Isip Isak (philippines)
Nature's Gifts, poem published in Isip Isak
Elegy for a soldier, poem published in MOD magazine (philippines)
Prodigal's Prayer, poem published in AGLOW magazine (defunct ph)
The Sweetness of Summer Rain, published in AGLOW magazine (defunct ph)
Lakay, short story published in Philippine Panorama (Philippines)