Life is a battle – you must enter into it fully, and do what needs to be done. You cannot shrink from your duty. Life presents difficult, sometimes horrendous situations, unwelcome tasks, and obstacles of every sort. Despite this harsh reality, you must resolutely go forward.
- Pierro Ferrucci
I have wrongly believed life for years that life is a battle, in which I have to face all the challenges every day by myself. It was much later in life that I realized that my Universal Partner is always with me and that I have the capacity to create my own life of privilege.
I have often wondered what it is like to sit in “The Chair of Privilege,” wherein one’s checkbook is freely accessible towards a donation to a church project or a non-profit cause. Or perhaps where one’s circle already includes the ‘sifted and the centrifuged’ crème de la crème of society. They can be folks who have endured their own life’s challenges, embraced them, and now are at a point of coming to their privileged time, harvesting the fruits of their labor.
Or simply folks who are children of elites, who have no financial barriers yet still, have interior challenges of living a life of purpose, fulfilling their own goals using motivation and determination that we all must have to reach ours.
When I was going to the University of the Philippines’ College of Home Economics to pursue a science degree in food technology, I was part of a different universe. Some of my classmates were children of elites, chauffeured by their own drivers, to the university campus. At the end of the day, the drivers were prompt in picking them up.
Unlike them, I was trained by my working parents and my elder sister to take the bus and to ride the “ikot jeepney” to reach one end of the campus, and back to the dorm. It was a sheltered life: go to classes, go to mass, go to the cafeteria, do laboratory experiments and sleep in the dorm. Our weekends were spent at Ma Mon Luk for siopao and mami and the movies. Anything more than that is not within our allowances, unless I prevail on my mother to give me extra to get an ice cream sundae at Magnolia.
Though I lived a sheltered campus life, I felt discontented. I kept comparing myself to the children of elites, as if I had much less. My mindset was quite wrong. Somehow, I expected a rich person to reorient my life to work for me. I did not educate myself to look at my parents as my role models. Not having that secure belief in my family and myself hindered me.
Was it my Christian education in the early sixties, wherein the nuns emphasized a life centered on academics and prayers, but not quite service to the country and its poor? Now they do emphasize service to the poor.
Was it my university education which emphasized having the skills to work abroad, but not quite the skills and mindset to improve the industries in the Philippines? Though my core college education gave me skills, I did not have the inner fortitude of staying put in my country and not aspiring to go abroad. Then, the industries to apply one’s degree in science and food technology were limited.
It was not until I got to the United States, away from my birth country, that I came to realize how much my father, Eleazar, sacrificed to get his higher education in law. He was an orphan, and without financial means of support from his parents, he befriended hunger. It was his daily companion. He walked barefoot several miles to go to school. He had water but no food. He believed that his higher education was his ticket out of poverty. And it was by divine providence that he got to eat.
His active imagination helped him visualize a better life for himself. He then met my mother, Asuncion, who herself was determined to have a better life. She burned the midnight oil to get her master’s degree in science, while teaching full-time and raising us, all five girls. She showed me by example how to work hard to reach our goals. When the youngest girl was five, my mother’s adventurous spirit served her well and she went abroad to give us a much better future.
While both those parental examples were rich ones to learn from, I took them for granted. I incorrectly viewed myself as poor, yet I was richly endowed with their examples of patience, perseverance, true grit and imagination.
Because of what they showed me, I instinctively knew I should and I can pursue higher education. Because of how my dad and my mom sacrificed, I knew I can achieve, with sacrifice and hard work.
Life of gratitude with God’s grace showering
My life turned around when I became grateful for what God gave me: my own skills, talents and knowledge. It even became a life of meaning, of purpose when I served others, mentoring them to reach their own life’s goals. I continue to do that to today, four decades later.
I realized that my own poverty of imagination and good spirits stopped me from having a life of privilege: one that is connected to the Higher Source of imagination and creativity.
I also stopped desiring what others have. I started cultivating my own gifts of imagination and creativity, and have been writing a column for ten years now.
So here goes now, my life begins with an ambitious climb of 282 steps. This overlook trail was created by the collective foresight of the community and the state government’s good governance principles of land conservation and benefitting the public good.
It took over a decade for the community to gain this public victory. How? The Baldwin Hills’ African American community persisted, and sustained their community efforts not to fall apart to division. They solidified their ranks, through social ties, and with their own creative skills of coming together through coffee klatches, movie nights and dinner potlucks. With their solidified ranks, they succeeded in stopping the development of 241 homes over 50 acres of private land.
It was not till the land was bought, and state rangers became part of this park and nurtured its development, did the community finally recognize they preserved 50 acres of land for public good, through their organizing efforts.
Today, this overlook scenic trail is enjoyed by folks of diverse ethnicities, of different ages, of families persisting to have their own lives rich in imagination, rich in creativity, but mostly, rich in connections with their Universal Partner.
Here is where I found a 78-year-old poet, running up the stairs and working through her own issues of poverty, unbeknownst to her, utilizing her own writing skills, as she is presently stumped by her own grief, and expecting folks to like her. I was glad to have struck a conversation with her and even if for a moment, lightened the load in her heart.
Here is where I also found a couple, almost a century old, yes, almost a hundred, with their walking canes, holding hands and whose formula for life is not about viewing challenges, but to take a step at a time, by loving one another for 64 years and smiling while they walk together. They appear to have of privileges, connected to their Universal Partner, the source of all Goodness.
This Christmas Season, I have a lot to be grateful for, starting with my precious almost four-year-old granddaughter. The other day, she corrected me, “Grandma, I am not a baby,” she said, as I mistakenly referred to her as my grandbaby and then, with a smile, she acknowledged it when I called her my granddaughter.
Then, her questions – “Grandma, did my mommy come from your tummy? What about my Uncle Carlo – did he come from your tummy too? Grandma, what about me – did I come from your tummy?”
I said, “yes, your mama and your uncle came from my tummy but you my precious granddaughter came from your mom’s tummy.” She smiled and then she said, “You are my family, Grandma!” That made my day and I felt like I hit the jackpot, in my own virtual chair of privilege!
Merry Christmas to all of you! As every Christmas for 11 years now, I hit the jackpot when I finish all nine novena masses at Immaculate Heart of Mary Church, at 5 a.m. By the morning of Dec. 24th, I feel like I hit the lotto, with a heart so open to accept the divinity of Jesus!
Cover Photo: Jose Antonio Vargas speaks at a stop on his book tour at USC on Sept. 25, 2018.AJPress photo by Klarize Medenilla
[Editor’s note: This column was originally published in 2014 but has been updated and republished in light of recent immigration conversations in the U.S.]
Immigration is by definition a gesture of faith in social mobility. It is the expression in action of a positive belief in the possibility of a better life. It has thus contributed greatly to developing the spirit of personal betterment in American society and to strengthening the national confidence in change and the future. Such confidence, when shared, sets the national tone. The opportunities that America offered made the dream real, at least for a good many; but the dream itself was in large part the product of millions of plain people beginning a new life in the conviction that life could indeed be better, and each new wave of immigration rekindled the dream. It gave every old American a standard by which to judge how far he had come and every new American, a realization of how far he might go. It reminded every American, old and new, that change is the essence of life, and that American society is a process, not a conclusion.
Pres. John F. Kennedy, “A Nation of Immigrants,” 1964, reissued in 2008.
In America, if we believe Fox News and ethnic cable televisions, the discussion to consider “the other, ” is effectively closed. We label them as if they do not matter.
“Get your papers or get out, or worse, go back to Mexico.” They also come from India, China, Philippines, El Salvador, Vietnam, Cuba, Korea, Dominican Republic and Guatemala. And before, Ireland, Italy, Greece, Poland, and America excluded them.
They are our nannies and caretakers to our children, caregivers to ailing relatives, chefs and waiters who serve us our restaurant food, gardeners in our yards, all significant aspects of our American lives, yet, we cast them aside to the margins, to the shadows.
In 2010, these Americans, with no documents, supported the mainstream, paying $11.2 billion in state and federal taxes, yet remained isolated, until a face came forward.
Jose Antonio Vargas (JAV) wrote his essay on being undocumented, in June 2011 in the New York Times. A year earlier, Gaby Pacheco and three friends walked 1,500 miles from Miami to DC to bring awareness to this issue.
JAV is gay, Filipino-American, without documents, a Pulitzer-prize winning journalist, who had written for Washington Post, the Huffington Post, the New Yorker and Rolling Stone. He discovered he was undocumented when he tried applying for his driver’s license at the DMV at age 16.
In his essay, he wrote, “I decided then that I could never give anyone reason to doubt I was an American. I convinced myself that if I worked enough, if I achieved enough, I would be rewarded with citizenship. I felt I could earn it. I’ve tried. Over the past 14 years, I’ve graduated from high school and college and built a career as a journalist, interviewing some of the most famous people in the country. On the surface, I’ve created a good life. I’ve lived the American dream. But I am still an undocumented immigrant. And that means living a different kind of reality. It means going about my day in fear of being found out. It means rarely trusting people, even those closest to me, with who I really am. It means keeping my family photos in a shoebox rather than displaying them on shelves in my home, so friends don’t ask about them. It means reluctantly, even painfully, doing things I know are wrong and unlawful. And it has meant relying on a sort of 21st-century underground railroad of supporters, people who took an interest in my future and took risks for me.”
“I would write my way right into America, “ he optimistically planned his life.
Watching “Documented,” a film
Filled with empathy for JAV, so many faces were streaked with tears from crying, while others wiped them off, after watching “Documented,” a jointly sponsored screening by The Asia Society and the Museum of Tolerance in 2014. It is not a teleserye ala Maalala Mo Kaya’s over the top emoting style. It is a credible documentary that effectively threads conversations and dialogue from those who believe immigrants do not belong here, and if they do, they must go back to the end of the line and apply. JAV wrote and directed the film.
There is no line to wait in when you are an American, undocumented. There are no categories to apply for, to get a green card, even for those who have been here for years, even for those who have paid taxes. Families continue to be broken, not one year, not two years, in some cases, 20 years.
By the time they are reunited, in JAV’s case, he wants to have his green card by his next birthday to visit his mom. His fantasy is that at the airport, there will be two of them, Emelia and Jose, and after they hug, chat, a five-hour drive to Zambales, more chats, eating, and she will take him to the beach, where he spent time with his cousins.
On June 15, 2012, a memorandum authored by the Obama Administration called Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA) qualified folks who came here as children, and only if they are under 29 years old. JAV was 30 and he didn’t qualify. At the time, he also asserted that 2,000,000 have now been deported by the Obama administration, a number that has to be substantiated.
Separation is a common thread. JAV was four when his grandparents left for the U.S. His grandfather was a security guard and his grandmother was a food server. They both earned minimum wage, but remitted dollars to support Emelia and JAV, until 12-year-old JAV joined his grandparents in California.
“Mother and I slept in the same bed, inseparable,” JAV narrates in the film.
“I joined Facebook. Three years he would not accept me. Such a simple thing. It’s just Facebook. Last letter he sent was 11/1997. It’s like we don’t know each other. It’s really hard. The son that used to tell me Mama, I love you. Like any mother, [I want to] embrace my child, and just want to hug him, touch his face,” Emelia says, as she breaks down and cries, and with her, the audience watching the film, including this writer.
“I guess I hadn’t realized how broken I had felt until I saw how broken she was. I mean, we talk on the phone. Like many immigrant families, I’ve been supporting her and my half-siblings since I was in my early 20s. I helped financially support them, and then that’s it. I don’t want to have to think beyond that because I couldn’t handle beyond that. You know, there was so much geographical and emotional separation. In many ways she had been a part of me that I don’t really like talking about, you know? I was going through two journeys: There was the public journey; there was the private journey. And the public face was, I was going to try to go toe to toe with everybody, may it be Lou Dobbs or Bill O’Reilly or Michelle Malkin. But talking about my mom and allowing myself to be vulnerable like that was just not something that I do, “ as JAV confides to Mother Jones’ Ian Gordon.
The audience was riveted by the Q and A, a conversation between Jonathan Karp, the executive director of the Asia Society, and JAV.
In a one-on-one conversation with this writer, post-screening, JAV shared his intentions: “It is a film, it is to occupy a cultural space and to take immigration out of the political realm. I am for immigrants and the film is intended to change perception and to move and to shift culture in the media.”
Would you believe a friend of mine, Lillian has already seen this in Hawaii, but opted to brave the traffic to see it a second time?
Considering this was shown while Pres. Barack Obama was visiting USC, to accept the Shoal Foundation’s award from Steven Spielberg at the Ambassadors for Humanity gala, tying up traffic in LA, the room was full. Lillian wants to contribute to the debate on immigration reform by taking her children to see this film this week.
This is what happens when a film moves someone’s heart. Hearts get moved, until the tipping point of action, and when there is a massive desire from so many people, as in a democracy wherein citizens are engaged, “We will keep moving forward, until it gets done.”
[Writer’s note: This was published in May 2018 in the Asian Journal’s Los Angeles weekend edition, but the recently concluded, controversial associate justice confirmation hearings on Brett Kavanaugh makes this essay reprint appropriate.]
Dear Mama,
I remembered that Saturday morning in late August in 2015 when I first told you that I was sexually assaulted. I remembered sitting on the couch and I couldn’t look at you, dad, or Andrew in the eye. It felt like the entire room froze, and no one ever expected those words to come out of my mouth. Andrew kept switching glances between the three of us, Papa had his head in his hands with tears in his eyes, and you rushed over to comfort me. I remembered bracing myself for the “I told you so” that would follow. I remembered the streamline of questions you sent my way, and I think it’s because you never prepared yourself to have this conversation with me. You wanted to avenge the pain I was in by trying to pry any information you could get your hands on and put my perpetrator away. But at the same time, I prayed that I wouldn’t see the disappointed look in your eye when I told you. I always felt like I knew exactly what I was doing, and this was the first time that I just didn’t know how to move forward.
Sometimes I found it hard to explain what I really did at school. As an Asian American studies major, I felt like you just nodded your head and trusted that I knew what I was doing. Progressive leadership to some might seem like a very radical term to describe my work as an ethnic studies student in this polarized day and age. But to others, progressive leadership is helping evolve their campus community in more than just a project that benefits themselves. I would like to think that my work at CSUN is an example of progressive leadership in higher education. I believe activism starts in many corners of campus. From the times when I called to tell you about the conferences I was going to, to the non-profit work I was doing, or when I started crying because I felt that my world was pulling me in five different directions. I just need to be comforted by you, and to be reminded that it was all a part of a process. I have learned that progressive leadership is not necessarily the end goal, but it is the never-ending journey of selfless work needed to help someone who might one day walk in the same shoes I did.
I was not sure when I realized that I was not alone in my journey, but when I took my AAS 311 – Research Methods class, I found institutional support from Dr. Tracy Lachica- Buenavista to pursue a qualitative research study on the experiences of Filipina American and Chinese American women’s experience with sexual harassment. From that research, I found that so many other Asian American women had been silently suffering from their experiences from sexual harassment and to some extent, incomplete rape. After the paper, I knew that many Asian American women did not have someone who looked like them, are open about their experiences, and knew about resources on campus to help them get through their trauma.
I knew that my experience was not an isolated case and that finding support was key to my recovery. From that point on, I realized that I had to become a model for other women and become knowledgeable about resources and support on campus in a moment’s notice. When I found Project D.A.T.E., I knew that advocating for survivors and educating the campus community about sexual assault awareness and rape prevention was going to be mentally challenging and emotionally draining, but the work would be necessary. It took me two years to gain the courage to speak to others about a serious and heavy topic, but I wanted to show other Asian American folks on campus that there are resources on campus that can be cathartic and healing for survivors. Some days I would walk out of presentations on a high, feeling like my words affected people. And then there were some days that I would leave the presentation hitting the autopilot button because I would get flashbacks from my assault, and just mechanically walk home, curl up into a ball, and avoid every single thought that ran through my brain. This was the part of my journey that I realized that sacrifices had to be made. But if I knew that I was helping someone else find support, it made the bad days worth it.
It was always been my habit to not give you full details about the trips I went on or the things I did off campus. I remembered calling you a couple of days before my first trip to Sacramento, when I lobbied with CSUN’s Student Government, Associated Students, to advocate for a fully funded CSU system. I remembered trying to explain to you what CHESS (California Higher Education Student Summit) was and what I was doing there. I did not know how I was going to explain to you that I was going to use my story in order to push assemblymembers and senators to convince Governor Jerry Brown to fully fund the CSUs. I did not know when I walked away from CHESS, it was going to a new skill to my toolbelt. I did not know that advocating for survivors and on-campus support services was crucial to my recovery, but it could be the defining moment when the next survivor needs resources and support, and I hoped that support will still be there. I never believed that I, an Asian American woman, survivor, student leader, but most importantly your daughter, could do something beyond the campus community and directly going into California government spaces to promote and actively create change.
Sometimes, I could hear your voice in the back of my head, bragging to everyone around you of how proud you are of me. I am grateful for you being so supportive of my wish to vocalize my experience when it was the norm to either remain silent or internally handle my situation within our family. I am forever grateful that you never turned me away. I am grateful for the days when you are more compassionate and understanding when I snapped for being extra sensitive around the month of August, the time when I am the mostly broken. I am blessed that you were proud of my work as I am fortunate to have an amazing supportive mother. This journey has not been an easy one, nor is progressive leadership tackled without a strong backbone of allies, friends, comrades, fellow survivors, but most importantly family. Not everyone is as fortunate as I am to have my mother pick up me from such a hard fall. I can only hope we can become an example of the change in our community, to open up a dialogue with more compassion and understanding when it comes to topics about recovering survivors. I believe that change starts with us as we continue to take steps forward together.
Love always,
Your daughter, Abigail
Abigail Garcia is a recent CSUN graduate who majored in Asian American Studies. She advocates for resources for Asian American survivors and hopes to one day change the dynamics of internalized silence within Asian American communities.
Footnote: Once a year, an essay competition is held at CSUN, amongst Asian American Studies and Education majors, as part of an endowment set up by Prosy Abarquez-Delacruz for her deceased mother, Asuncion Castro Abarquez and her deceased sister, Rosalinda Abarquez Alcantara to provide a scholarship grant to deserving students. The essays are then reviewed and carefully vetted by a committee headed by Dr. Teresa Williams-Leon, Dr. Philip Hutchinson and Kimberly Teaman Carroll with oversight from Dept. Chair Gina Masequesmay this 2018. This year’s winning essay is from Abigail Garcia on Progressive Leadership, Asian American Studies and Education.
This being human is a guest house/Every morning a new arrival/A joy, a depression, a meanness,/ some momentary awareness comes/ as an unexpected visitor./Welcome and entertain them all!/Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,/who violently sweep your house/Empty of its furniture,/Still, treat each guest honorably./ He may be clearing you out/ for some new delight./The dark thought, the shame, the malice,/ meet them at the door laughing,/ and invite them in./Be grateful for whoever comes/ because each has been sent/ as a guide from beyond.
Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks, The Essential Rumi
I have heard of Glenn Omatsu as one of UCLA’s formidable editors in the early 1990’s. When he gets hold of an essay, it turns into readable prose, teaching others the illuminating insights that has yet to be realized, years after. When he edited my piece on “Holding a Pigeon in My Hand: How Community Organizing Succeeds or Falters, ”an essay that is now part of a textbook, asian americans: the Movement and the MOMENT, he underscored, “I have been organizing around a central theme, certainly not known to me then, but clearer to me now: a commitment to finding strengths in people, motivating them to do the right thing for greater good of the community, and encouraging them to invest in a future of justice, equality and inclusion for everyone.” That was 2001.
Fast forward to April 30, 2014, and the LA Times headline is: “BANNED FOR LIFE: Clippers Owner Donald Sterling is fined $2.5 million; commissioner [Adam Silver] says he’ll press for a sale of the team. Discipline is swift for ‘deeply offensive and harmful’ comments.”
Contrast that sweeping backlash for a public figure’s racism, divided no more, we are repairing and healing.
Healing from the Past and Moving Past Racism
It was quite healing to hear Provost Harry Hellenbrand when he acknowledged a crowd of over 200+, gathered in the heat of Northridge afternoon high 90’s temperature, that the Glenn Omatsu house is fitting tribute to Glenn Omatsu’s unselfish mentoring of students, of repairing what was done in the past, so we can move together to seize the future. He was not sure as we move forward that the example of Glenn Omatsu can be matched.
Past refers to 3200 Japanese Americans who lived once in what is now CSUN campus. They farmed the land, and were falsely suspected of being the enemy. They lost their land and property. When they returned after their internment, they found their farms were destroyed and they took on new jobs and silence became a way of moving on.
Ron Muranaka, a farm owner of 50 years of growing flowers, recalls living in converted horsestalls, because their land and property were taken from them. The new Porter Elementary School in Chatsworth was once their farmland, that was also taken away from them.
For the Native Americans, the Tatvian people, much of Cahuenga hills, Tujunga, Encino, Pacoima, were formerly Indian tribal lands. When the first Mayor of Los Angeles, Thomas Foster, took office, he also took the lands from the Indians by paying a measly $16 property tax. Much of the Indian names remain like Pacoima, Cahuenga, Tujunga. Even the land where Universal Studios sit on was once Indian lands.
The Asian House becoming Glenn Omatsu House
In CSUN, whether you are Black, Latino, Filipino, Korean, Japanese, Chinese, White, gay or transgender, or any religion, you can count on Prof. Omatsu’s heart, intellect and wisdom, to be a welcoming space, a soulful home to seek wisdom from, but mostly to realize your own innate strengths.
Kokoro, a heart, a “feel for what matters, “ was a novel by Natsume Soseki, read by Glenn at age 17yo. Kokoro describes Prof. Omatsu, for those folks who have worked with him, in many grassroots frontline struggles, as in: to unionize the New Otani Hotel in Little Tokyo, the 11 Chinese residents who sought redress and reparation from Kajima Corporation for WWII atrocities, the campaign to stop sweatshop slavery of the Thai and Latino immigrant workers illegally housed in El Monte, attacks to dismantle affirmative action like the Bakke decision, efforts of Rafu Shimpo newspaper to fire employees and destroy the English section, and opposing the first Middle East war.
Prof. Omatsu practiced solidarity, in finding America’s heart in those frontline struggles, to include those in the margins and the underprivileged, through dialogues and by asking more questions.
As he was shaped by Grace Lee Boggs, Yuri Kochiyama, Philip Vera Cruz, K.W. Lee, Yuji Ichioka, Mo Nishida and Russell Leong, even relatively unknown individuals, 60 of them he listed in his essay on “Listening to the Small Voice Speaking the Truth,” which included Kathy and Mark Masaoka and this writer. He was keenly aware he was being raised by a village of community-centered hearts, including his mentors: Ho Nguyen, Kazu and Tak Iiijima, and Clarence Spear.
From Ho Nguyen, Prof. Omatsu learned militant humility. Militant to ask questions of authority, yet, humble to transform oneself, while transforming the world.
By practicing militant humility, students can help transform education’s mission, by asking who benefits, will it focus on indigenous, which faculty will be involved, will it represent voices from communities not heard from, will education benefit and become an opportunity for the next generations to come? These are strategic questions of consequences, to review one’s decisions for impact and influence.
Distinguished lecture and dedication on April 27 and 29
CSUN’s Jushin Taiko opened the ceremony on April 27, with their thunderous beats on the drums, stick grips in unison, their sculpted arms revealed by their X-back clothing and conscious positions onstage, drummed three powerful pieces, and a resounding theme of “We will learn together, Together, We are One Solid Force.”
So when Prof. Omatsu distinguished lecture was delivered, his reflections were crisply formulated from decades of helping the dispossessed, the marginalized, and those treated unfairly: “Asian American Studies belong to the students and the communities. It does not belong to the faculty and the institutions!”
It was an iron-clad conclusion, that justice belongs to all Americans and a reflection gained from meeting folks in power, engaging on issues of civil rights and community empowerment, and what is essential. “Be subversive and be willing to act based on righteousness.” It is not self-righteousness, but a collective sense of what is for the common good of the college students.
Gregory Pancho, a Filipino American, received the Donna Kawamoto Special Achievement Award. He dropped out for 9 months to care for his mother with cancer and in honor of his mother, “My mother is my special circumstance. She is my motivation, I accept this award on her behalf.” He thanked the Asian American faculty at CSUN for the emotional support he got and now, after his Bachelor’s, he will be taking his Master’s in Asian American Studies at SFSU.
Another Filipina –American awardee, Chelley Quiambao, received the Enrique de la Cruz Social Justice Award, who was recognized for her work in community empowerment and her contributions to the struggle for social justice. She accepted the award from the former Dept. Chair of Asian American Studies, Enrique de la Cruz who came. She said, “My mom instilled in me the value of higher education.” Chelley has been accepted to Lesley University on a full scholarship and will be teaching, as she pursues a Master’s Degree in Education.
The Taiko Drums sounded like uproars to the heavens, to the spirits of the ancestors of the place, to the spirits of those who have gone before, who have left legacies of serving others, yet now embodied, in full being in solidarity, in Prof. Omatsu.
He takes in their sorrows and their depressions, and turns them around
Professor Rashitta Brown-Elize, a former EOP student (Equal Opportunities Program at CSUN, for low income and underperforming students) and now EOP and AAS Professor, she gave a moving account of almost dropping out of CSUN in her first year. She worked two jobs to support her biological family, while going to college. When she got hospitalized, she realized her family could go on without her. That lesson was not lost to her and she worked on a life’s balance. She now has a Bachelor’s, a Master’s and is finishing a doctorate at USC. She credits Prof. Omatsu’s perseverance in realizing her potential, hidden from her at that time. When she got married two years ago, she asked Prof. Omatsu to walk her down the aisle, a fitting tribute to “being my Surrogate Dad who saw the goodness in me.” She gave him a framed wedding picture, an endearing show of “microaffections”, a word popularized by Prof. Omatsu during his lecture.
Rev. Alfred Tsuyuki did a purification ceremony, a rendition of Amatsu Norito prayer, a sacred prayer of recitation, calling on The Founder, The Principal Parent, and the Founder’s blessings to reside here in the campus of CSUN, here in the Glenn Omatsu house. His prayers called on human beings to cater ourselves in gratitude, for in gratitude, grace and blessings pour out. He emphasized a clear kokoro, as one develops vision and insights with a clean heart, a pure spirit, based on a single trait of sincerity. When he dispersed the rice paper confetti, it miraculously moved as if pieces had gained legs towards the perimeter, where most of the EOP students were gathered, and then, moved back into a funnel of energy, a vortex carrying the confetti into a cluster which moved as one force of energy towards the administrators and the VIPs shaded in the tent.
At the dedication of the Glenn Omatsu house at 230pm on April 29, two convergences were noted, the end of the Vietnam War, and the April 29 civil riots in Koreatown and South Central in Los Angeles. The weather forecast was in the upper 90’s. Yet, strong winds threatened to blow down the tent, which was dwarfed by the overflowing crowd of 200+, too small to contain the enthusiasm and gratitude of those who came: Japanese American businessmen, Native Americans, students, faculty, CSUN Provost, CSUN dean, and community folks, Filipino Americans Student Association.
THERE’S music in the air, waving, whistling. Whispering to me, backwards, giving it a chase. And if you turn it you couldn’t even sing it. Maybe this tune is going mad in my head. There’s a poem in the air, shouting, roaring. Dancing, rolling. But when you go together with your heart, you can’t really catch the tune. Maybe this is how falling in love feels like, singing like crazy. What is happening to me? I’m stuttering, can’t seem to speak.
I ‘m trying hard to sing. But, I am tongue-tied, but, if you put sense to it, you can’t really catch it. Maybe this is how falling in love feels like, That I want it so bad to make it a song.
“HIBANG SA AWIT,” originally composed for the UP Concert Chorus in the ‘80’s, rearranged for the San Miguel Master Chorale and Philharmonic Orchestra and newly arranged by Ryan Cayabyab.
The Philippine Chamber Singers-LA (PCS-LA) concert on Friday, August 17 at the Walt Disney Concert Hall, had a theme, “HIBANG SA AWIT (Mad about Songs),” with a comprehensive program of 22 songs of Original Pilipino Music. It was PCS-LA’s second concert at this well-acclaimed venue.
The concert featured 87 singers and musicians, which included Mon David, Kit Navarro, Ana Burog, Edward Granadosin, Marivic Francisco, and Noel Anzures in featured solos.
Song arrangements were commissioned from towering-in-reputation gifted composers from the Philippines: Ryan Cayabyab (whose name is synonymous to the growth of Original Pilipino Music Industry for 50+ years), Robert Delgado, Ruben Federizon, Monet Silvestre, John Pamintuan, Jude Roldan and Teresa Vizconde-Roldan, the latter two have developed children’s choirs and taken them to tours abroad.
Much like the Roldans, Pete Avendaño has taken the Immaculate Heart of Mary’s Children’s (IHM) Choir that has won medals in acclaimed competitions in Glendale, California, Oregon and Ohio. The IHM choir has performed in Carnegie Hall in New York and joined choirs around the U.S. to sing for Pope Francis in Rome and will be in London in 2019.
During the Christmas season, IHM’s choir has been featured on PBS, and has since been delighting audiences in LA. This year, they joined forces with the Precious Blood School’s Choir to form a 50-strong choral group that took our hearts away with cute frontline voices, three feet in height, yet bold articulate voices which introduced the songs, having practiced them in a limited time after school, singing with gusto as one.
The diverse, over two thousand member audience at Disney Hall underscored the loyal base of Sopranos: Kit Buhion, Anne Jeanette Dwight, Marivic Francisco, Anna Hurn, Maria Christina Navarro, and Charmaine Normandia; Altos: Kim Bautista, Ana Burog, Judith Guerrero, Melissa Eugenio Gutierrez, Jennifer Morelos, Apple Nestle Nazareno and Lisa Ulanday; Tenors: Noel Anzures, Aristotle Canlapan, Hero Emolaga, Gerry Francisco, Oscar Pantaleon, Jr. and Louie Ulanday; and Bass: Novem Cabios, Dale Francisco, Gelo Francisco, Emmanuel Miranda, Medard Obida, Dino Padallan and Dennis Quiambao.
Gelo Francisco is their artistic director and co-founder along with Burog, Dale Francisco, Hurn, Padallan and Miranda, who is also its resident conductor.
Grace Mercado Ouano, an author, was impressed: “I have had the pleasure of sponsoring Philippine Chamber Singers – Los Angeles’ [two] concerts now at the Music Center’s Walt Disney Concert Hall. They are the Pilipino community’s pride when it comes to representing Pilipino culture and arts in the mainstream scene. It is my first time to attend their event at this magnificent concert hall. And what better way to watch my first concert than by a Pilipino choir with an all Pilipino repertoire. I am really proud and happy that our community came out in full support for these talented performers. I thoroughly enjoyed the program that evening and judging by the warm and thunderous applause (not to mention standing ovations), the audience really loved the concert. They are a representation of what the Pilipino community in Los Angeles can offer – quality and a balance of culture and art in a melting pot that is LA, much like healthy, balanced and quality recipes that one can find in Foodtrients [a book I authored]. I salute PCS-LA in their endeavor to bringing out the best of Philippine music. Mabuhay!”
PCS-LA’s program included Madz Men Alumni (Gerry Francisco, Oscar Pantaleon, Jr. Bong Imperial, Aris Canlapan, Edward Granadosin, Saunder Choi and Emmanuel Miranda), the Malaya Filipino Dance Arts and musicians Paul Concepcion (piano), Elson Trinidad (bass), Leonne Castellas (drums), Jonathan Frias (double bass), and Kendro Calica (pianist for Children’s Choir.) The well-amplified male voices of Madz Men came through and were much appreciated, and one cannot miss Edward Granadosin’s solo.
“Since its inception in 2004, PCS-LA has been at the forefront of celebrating the joy and pride in Filipino musical talents in the midst of Southern California’s multicultural and ethnically diverse tapestry. PCS highlights a century of classic and modern Filipino music created by some of the greatest and most accomplished Filipino composers,” Consul General Adelio Angelito Cruz wrote in his program message. “PCS-LA is heir to a long tradition of Filipino university and church-based choirs wowing and moving audiences in almost every continent.”
LAPhil.com described PCS-LA as a “dynamic, diverse, and decorated group of Filipino singers,” that has performed at the Cathedral of Angels in Los Angeles, bishops’ special events, and even invited by LA Philharmonic’s preeminent conductor, Gustavo Dudamel to perform with LA’s musicians at the Hollywood Bowl.
Cynthia Bonta, the mother of state Assemblymember Rob Bonta, who traveled from Northern California, raved about how “Gelo is a people’s artist – one that acknowledges and showcases people’s art. The children’s choir and Mon David have arisen from the masses – nothing is elitist about them – their art is people’s art as it connects with ease to a people’s sensitivities. By sharing the stage, [Gelo] uplifts our Filipino identity and culture. The ease of delivery of such difficult music left us in awe. The transitional speeches personally connected with the audience in their simplicity and warmth of expression. With singers, conductors, instrumentalists showing their enjoyment as they performed truly deepened the audience’s appreciation of the evening, [as mine].”
Music is their heritage and priceless inheritance
Nagbubungkal, nagtatanim, kumikinang (shoveling, planting, healthy vibrance) are features of hard work in growing crops.
But, what if those activities were applied in nurturing families and growing communities?
If one is born into music, what if someone aligned with that luck, applied himself in that path, keeping in mind the law of favorability, and that the Universe conspires to give us more favors to grow our luck?
Much like Andrea Morricone — an Italian composer-son of Ennio Morricone, who speaks with a sense of certainty, in sharing himself “as perhaps already swimming in music,” while in the womb of his mother, Maria and listening to his father, Ennio who played the trumpet — Anthony Angelo “Gelo” Francisco has similar roots of “swimming in the musically-gifted womb” of Herminia, a coloratura (soprano skilled in opera), his mother, and listening to Gerardo, his father, a singer.
They became part of an erstwhile Mandaluyong Polyphonic Society’s (MPS) and as the photo accompanying this article shows, Francisco’s dad (bass) and mom (soprano), encircled in white, who with their group, performed at exclusive Cardinal’s events in the Philippines. At MPS, Gerardo met Herminia and they became a couple, giving birth to the youngest Gelo Francisco with 4 elder siblings, all with gifts of musicality. A similar PCS-LA gathering with their families are in another photo.
Fast forward to this Music Center’s Disney Hall event and we find Gelo Francisco’s family integrated into PCS-LA as well, with wife Marivic (a soprano), in a featured solo, while their son, Joaquim Antonio Belo Francisco, (college-bound on his gap year) strummed the kalatong, a bamboo percussion instrument with Gelo. Both Joaquim and his father (Gelo) played the kalatong bamboo drums to a fast rhythm that provided the background to “TINIG NG LUPA,” which earned a chorus of audience’s bravos. We celebrated that we saw how the Francisco family rose as one, passing on the legacy inherited from Gelo’s father and mother, and now Gelo and Marivic passing on their gifts of musicality to their first born, Joaquim, another professional artist born that night.
The integrity of passion and conviction to good music shows
Equally outstanding was the rendition of “ANAK,” a popular song of Freddie Aguilar, with new arrangements from John Pamintuan. It was a solo featuring alto Lisa Ulanday, accompanied by Malaya Filipino-American Dance Arts and of course, PCS-LA.
Many Filipinos can sing “ANAK” as the tune is almost instinctive, having been born in the Philippines, a place where this song is heard in the plazas, musical halls, academic stages, television, and movies and like a prodigal son, one breaks off from family to grow independence and returns to home again.
To have a Filipina-American like Ulanday sing this in Tagalog, which is not her primary language, took a lot of preparations from her as to style, enunciating the words and vowels with the punctuated emotions, and of course, the sound dynamics.
She said, “I never thought simple words like ‘gatas’ (milk) could sound too aristocratic when I applied traditional choral singing vowels. I had to consciously add more ‘y’ in kamay (hand), so I didn’t sound hoitey toitey.”
“How did you prepare for this?” I asked her, one evening, after putting her own anak to sleep.
“First, I had to look up the translation for every single word as I only speak English and Ilocano. I probably know Spanish better than Tagalog because of four years of Spanish in high school. Next, I listened to Freddie Aguilar’s original and it struck me as folk sounding, melancholic and really relied on the lyrics to get the message and the emotions out of the song. I looked at Pamintuan’s arrangement next.”
Note that she is describing knowing first the original, the traditional base of the song, before the new arrangement that is born out of the original with new twists.
“The new arrangement is more staged, it could easily be a song for a musical. I thought half of these folks wouldn’t understand or hear the lyrics I am singing either because of a language barrier or distance from stage. I worked on performing as I would in a musical like Les Miserables, like Aida, like Miss Saigon. When the female lead sings her heart, her angst and anguish alone overtook the stage with that spot. I looked at it from that angle since I would not have the concert with microphones to help me get the message across.
And of course, the message is universal, I have been the child and now I am the mother. I totally get it,” she reflected on her artistic process.
Indeed, Lisa got it as the audience, who gave her a resounding chorus of bravos. We got it that she communicated why ANAK has become “arguably one of the most popular songs in the world, translated into several languages, generated hundreds of cover versions, and sold millions of copies,” Emmanuel Miranda wrote in the program notes.
As PCS-LA’s resident conductor, Miranda’s prowess came to the fore, as this writer observed a July’s practice session, wherein the choral group had yet to gel as one, with some trailing sounds that piqued the sharp ear of Miranda. He stopped them and could not take the off sounding notes. Like a father to a child, he said: “Did you practice? Please do not waste my time.”
To this writer, the perceived harshness was unnecessary. Yet, all that harshness is in the past, forgotten and now all we see is that the hard work paid off, as the concert showed the beauty of a choral group singing as one. It called to mind the language used by Gustavo Dudamel and Andrea Morricone who practiced and conducted professional members of their orchestras and through their exasperation, had this to say, “Almost perfect,” motivating them to reach that summit of perfection, if there was one.
The audience appreciated the ‘70s Rock Medley sang by Ana Burog, Lisa Ulanday, Kim Bautista and Apple Nazareno. It signaled to the audience that this is the fun part. But also, the “TSISMISAN,” where the audience was pleasantly surprised.
Noel Anzures sang the solo of “HANGGANG SA MULI,” composed by Ryan Cayabyab and arranged by Moi Ortiz. It was dedicated to Alec Bao, an erstwhile PCS-LA member, who received a heartwarming applause and perhaps equally moved by Noel’s heartfelt rendition, and also Alec’s presence,“So many songs sang coming for the heart/Hoping we’ve made you smile just for a moment.”
HIBANG SA AWIT did not disappoint, it lived up to the audience’s expectations from their first Disney Hall concert of four years ago.
“I enjoyed this concert more than their first, I dare say,” Cynthia Bonta added.
“Rosa Parks took her stand with clarity and courage. I took mine by diversion and default.
Some journeys are direct, and some are circuitous; some are heroic, and some are fearful and muddled. But, every journey, honestly undertaken, stands a chance of taking us toward the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need,” Parker Palmer wrote in Let Your Life Speak.
PCS-LA took their paths to Disney Hall with courage, boldness, community support and the audacity of being people’s artists, showcasing talented artists like themselves, and collaborating with gifted musicians from the Philippines, here in Los Angeles, and wherever Filipinos-mad-about-songs are. It was as I wrote in Part I, magical, warm, and tender!
Footnote: This writer wrote about Mon David, Ana Burog, Kit Navarro and Edward Granadosin in Part I published in the Asian Journal – Los Angeles Weekend edition on August 25, 2018.
I AM with you wherever you are. I am with you forevermore. There is no other love more than my love for you. I am with you my one and only love. You are with me wherever I am. You are with me forevermore. You’re always in my mind wherever I am. You are with me forevermore. You’re always in my mind wherever I am. You are with me my one and only love. Through all the hardships and all the good times. I am with you eternally. My love for you will never change. I am with you. I am with you.
Mon David’s translated lyrics to “Abe Mu Ku,” 2001.
Mon David was invited as one of the featured guest singers of the Philippine Chamber Singers-LA (PCS-LA)’ Walt Disney Hall concert on Friday, August 17, alongside Kit Navarro, Edward Granadosin and Pete Avendaño’s Immaculate Heart of Mary Children’s Choir and Precious Blood School’s Children’s Chorus, a 50-member group.
Prominent in attendance that evening were Philippine Consul General Adelio Angelito Cruz and generous donors of PCS-LA, Grace Mercado-Ouano, John S. Mina and Ted Benito.
It was an enchanting evening to hear the music of your childhood being sung in a venue with great acoustics. Usually, the best sounds emerged from the 10th row, as in the LA Legal Philharmonic’s concert this writer attended recently. But we were privileged with seats in the third row, where the sounds had uneven dynamics.
Yet, even with the seeming absence of the prominently hanging ceiling microphone in a prior concert, it could not diminish the impact of passion, the fullest depths of the emotional experience from musicality at its masterful best, and the superior performances of PCS-LA onstage. Everything was magical, soulful, gentle and warm!
Cynthia Bonta with Angelo “Gelo” Francisco
Could it be the context of Asian Americans’ collective excitement, who came out to see director Jon M. Chu’s adaptation of Kevin Kwan’s best-selling novel, “Crazy Rich Asians,” with a blockbuster week total of $35 million?
“How does one express what it means to go from being and feeling completely invisible, insignificant, left out and white-washed to all of a sudden being fully seen and fully human, on the big screen, in bright, bold and beautiful colors?” Soji Kashiwagi wrote on August 19.
‘Soul of the Concert’ – Mon David
David has nothing else to prove, having been a three-decade major musical artist in the Philippines, then, joined and won the 2006 London International Jazz Competition. He has since been performing in US stages like the Ford Amphitheater, LACMA, Vibrato Jazz Grill, Little Tokyo, Josephine’s, Catalina Jazz Bar, and has eight albums to his credit. He has also graced the Tokyo-Manila Jazz festival, performing with notable jazz artists like Charito Vergara in Japan and Manila.
He got the “2017 Jazz Living Legend” from the LA City Council headed by Councilmember Herb Wesson. David believes that “our humanity connects us to one another regardless of national origin, creed and political affiliations and the arts, music and jazz can help achieve that deep and true human connection.”
When David walked onstage that evening at Disney Hall, a first for him to perform at this venue, he looked handsome in an Eric Pineda original barong of purple and white, a mandarin collar, and with a microphone in his hand. We braced ourselves to enjoy every facet of his performance. We knew how meticulous he is about sound dynamics and expressing his feelings. We simply knew it would be masterful!
He was the “soul of this concert,” Cynthia Bonta whispered to me. She traveled from Alameda to Los Angeles, eager to listen to the songs of her childhood, all originally composed by Filipinos, adding “I would not miss this for anything.”
Enrique Dela Cruz described it as “an inspired performance for Mon David who has mastered the legato, the long, sustained notes.”
Chris Oshima, a native-born American, felt the warmth and gentleness, listening to David’s song, a language foreign to her.
“Abe Mu Ku,” an original composition of Mon David in Kapampangan, has been translated into seven dialects by Prof. Edru Abraham of the University of the Philippines’s Kontra-Gapi Ensemble. Some of those dialects are Ibanag, Hiligaynon and Cebuano.
In Pampanga, “Abe Mu Ku” is frequently sung at various occasions because of its universal language and message of love.
David composed it in 2001, fresh from grieving the death of his loving father, Crisanto David, who sang often with his wife, Alejandra Canlas, David’s mother. He stopped by the North Expressway’s shoulder in the Philippines, as the sounds came to him nonstop, on the way to visit his grieving mother. He wrote the notes down and hummed it as he wanted to document the harmonic notes as they were flowing through. Verse A was composed. Much later, a verse B (the bridge), until a full song emerged, with A, A, B, A.
When David sings, he always dedicates them to all his loved ones: his father, his wife Ann and his family, now, a growing brood of grandchildren, soon to be four, with twins Nico and Leo.
“Nararamdaman ko iyon, marubdob ang dating (I feel the lyrics, the intensity of my love for them pierces through),” he said.
That evening, he sang the Ibanag verse translation, in addition to Kapampangan, done by Prof. Edru Abraham. Some folks thought it was Japanese.
When David prepares for his performances, he is quite particular to address all aspects of the performance: harmony, feelings, sound dynamics and lyrics.
“When you sing for one person, it should be the same level of quality as singing for 2,000 person capacity Disney Hall,” he said. Twenty of his family member came, as did over 2,000 people from the Filipino-American community and their friends.
Matching this masterful performance of David was Gelo Francisco’s generosity in spirit, who with PCS-LA, generously commissioned a new choral arrangement from Robert Delgado, for “Abe Mu Ku” to not just be masterfully sung by the passionate vocal chords and heart of Mon David, but even more so by the masterful choral voices of the PCS-LA. How soulful, gentle, warm, and inspired indeed!
The last mainstage, similar to Disney Hall, was Ford Amphitheater, a concert produced by Ted Benito in 2011, when David memorably sang with his children, Nicole David Yalong, a mother of twins, and Carlo David (a recent winner of A Song of Praise Festival in April 2018), a first for the family on a U.S. mainstage back then.
Alto Ana Burog in repartee with soprano Kit Navarro
“I don’t want to lose you. My world will shatter. But what can I do? You don’t want me anymore. Who am I to hold you back? Even if you go away, the memory of our love will stay. This song reminds me that I won’t forget you. Better you the only one in my world. My heart, my life. Your kiss, I so miss! Why did you leave me? I am hurting, baby. When I see you, I feel jealous, oh baby, when you are with someone else. Because you are the only [one] in my universe. My heart, my life.” – “HALIK,” originally sung by Aegis, arranged by Monet Silvestre, now performed by Ana Burog.
Facebook posts populated with comments: “A Star is Born” in Ana Burog in repartee with Ma. Cristina “Kit” Navarro. Another post showed OJ, a guy about to bite Burog’s cheek, with her comment: “It is a kiss, not a bite.” All were delighted to see Burog give it her all that night and queued up to have photos with her. We could not squeeze in.
“How did you do it?” I asked.
“Tita, if you go onstage at Disney Hall and look around, it is intimidating to see the people, the lights, and all the microphones. I simply imagined I was singing in a karaoke bar.”
Capping “HALIK,” Ma. Cristina Navarro sang as if her voice traveled up and down the scales, on a run even, in leaps and thrills, in coloratura style. Burog was unfazed and challenged Navarro.
Mind you, Navarro is Burog’s idol. With humor and wit, Burog declared in Tagalog and asked who is the sponsor of these handsome barongs worn onstage (designs in black and on white barongs), as if finding her creative edge on Navarro. After Navarro’s impressive coloratura, Burog moved her hands, as if to say, “make room for me.” The amused crowd roared in laughter, and waited on what Burog could do. She too had her coloratura, but in her abbreviated alto voice.
The repartee lasted two rounds, with soprano Navarro and alto Burog, displaying their prowess.
Navarro is a professional soprano, who has been part of Andrea Bocelli’s Christmas concerts in California, the West Coast tour of the “Lord of the Rings” with the Munich Symphony Orchestra and has graced international stages, singing in operas in Switzerland, the U.S., the Philippines and Austria. She was handpicked to perform for Ryan Cayabyab’s Sept. 1, 2018s concert at the University of the Philippines. Orange County Register describes her as “the gifted soprano, whose effortless production and lustrous, satiny tone were angelic.”
Yet, with humility and with grace, Navarro made room for Burog to claim the stage as her own and that night, a star was born during the latter’s rendition of “HALIK” (kiss), “which was originally performed at 2016 Regine Velasquez-Alcasid’s concert by the Filipino-American choirs which included PCS-LA. Soloists Ana Burog and Ma. Cristina Navarro bring fresh interpretation, humor and wit to the song,“ Emmanuel Miranda wrote in the program notes.
When the lyrics “Pagka’t ikaw ang tanging laman ng aking mundo, ng aking puso, ng aking buhay (Because you are the only one in my universe, my heart, my life)” were sung, the crowd stood up and applauded.
Bravo, bravo, bravo, giving “HALIK,” the only standing ovation that might have lasted longer, but for two more songs, “HANGGANG SA MULI” and “HIBANG SA AWIT” waiting to be sung at the program’s end at 10:30 p.m.
PCS-LA’s comprehensive program and quality musicianship
PCS-LA’s members are: Sopranos (Kit Buhion, Anne Jeanette Dwight, Marivic Francisco, Anna Hurn, Maria Christina Navarro and Charmaine Normandia); Altos (Kim Bautista, Ana Burog, Judith Guerrero, Melissa Eugenio Gutierrez, Jennifer Morelos, Apple Nestle Nazareno and Lisa Ulanday; Tenors (Noel Anzures, Aristotle Canlapan, Hero Emolaga, Gerry Francisco, Oscar Pantaleon, Jr. and Louie Ulanday; and Bass (Novem Cabios, Dale Francisco, Gelo Francisco, Emmanuel Miranda, Medard Obida, Dino Padallan and Dennis Quiambao.
Francisco is the artistic director of PCS-LA, having developed the musical program content, with the group’s input, into 22 songs in various categories of Kundiman, Novelty and Modern Classics; Contemporary Avant-Garde, Great Filipino Songs and Maski Pops.
PCS-LA commissioned new arrangements of this Original Pilipino Music from Ryan Cayabyab, Robert Delgado, Ruben Federizon, John Pamintuan and Monet Silvestre.
That night, Gelo assumed multiple roles: bamboo drumming, conductor for several songs, soloist, part of Madz Alumni Men, and part of the PCS-LA’s choral group. He upheld the very high gold standard for the performance of PCS-LA.
One particular song received our riveted attention. It was Ruben Federizon’s composed “TINIG NG LUPA.” Soprano Marivic Francisco soared in her rendition, as her family members Gelo Francisco (her husband) and Joaquim Francisco (her college-bound son on his gap year), who both pounded on their kalatong (a percussion instrument made of bamboo).
In the program notes, Miranda wrote, “Federizon derived his inspiration 35 years ago when he saw the Visayas’ mudslide burying an entire barrio. It affected him so much to see dead bodies in the mud. He reiterates, ‘We just have to love our Mother Earth.’ It represents an avant-garde work in three movements scored for mixed chorus a cappella and utilizes the kalatong, bamboo tubes struck by two bamboo sticks. It employs the technique of onomatopoeia – the voices mimic the haunting, earthly sounds of the underworld (the dead) as they struggle to free themselves from the abysss (mud).”
That evening, PCS-LA emerged to be bright stars onstage at Disney Hall, breaking down all barriers, to sing and express themselves with superior musicality.
