ZIP-A-DEE-DO-DAH: Taking an Ethereal Ride to Freedom

Butch Ledesma Ferrer

Like a taxiing aircraft it hums in low-decibel whizz as it darts above you, from one end to another in a jiffy. Like the Christopher Reeve – Margot Kidder movie, one is wont to ask: Is it a plane? Or is it a bird? The answers will definitely be a No! But if the question continues if it is Superman, you get a ready answer – “No, silly! It is not Superman, but yes, it is a man, or a woman, or a child, flying on a zip line! As Superman flies over New York skylines in a zap, the zip rider flies over tall tree canopies of an unexplored forest, over the second... then third.... then fourth.... and fifth Dongon Falls - all in 40 seconds max for the first ride and 26 seconds for the second ride. If Superman saves the world in the heroic fantasy, the zip rider owns it in exhilarating reality! If Superman flies only in theatres around the world, a zip rider does that only here in South Cotabato, in the enchanting Municipality of Lake Sebu.

Lake Sebu Seven Falls Eco-tourism Development Project started in 2008 when the Provincial Government realized its potentials as an eco-tourism adventure destination. With a unique site blessed with seven waterfalls, the vision of the Dongon family-owned property being South Cotabato’s pilot tourist destination for sight-seeing became bigger as adventure came into the picture. Driven by the gut feel that the waterfalls could be most appreciated from the sky, looking down, a plan to establish two zip lines, 740 meters long (first ride, breezing through falls No. 2 to No. 5) and 420 meters long (second ride, from falls No. 5 back to falls No. 2 parking area), crossing through these natural wonders was hatched. Construction of a trek trail, entrance gates, comfort rooms and gazebo took shape and the highest zip lines in Asia took form. Soon the zip lines became the talk of the town, hugging headlines as adventure destination on TV such as ABS-CBN’s Sports Unlimited, GMA’s promotional trailers and offered as ultimate adventure experience by travel agencies.

Operation started on November 2009 with the Provincial Environment Management Office at the helm. Zip line fee is 250 per head, exclusive of the entrance fees to the Seven Falls. In a month’s time, the Province recorded 140, 455 tourist arrivals, 645 zip riders earning P141, 100.00 gross receipts in December. With its growing popularity, year 2010 raked in 2.8M gross receipts with 205, 984 tourist arrivals and 11, 464 riders. On October 8, 2010, the management of this adventure facility was turned over from PEMO to the Arts, Culture, Tourism and Sports Promotions Office which had a better hand in promoting and handling tourist influx in South Cotabato. This year, in just five months (Jan-May) of operation, the facility earned 1.7M with 23, 219 registered tourist arrivals and 6, 778 zip riders. Due to the growing maintenance requirements, zip line riding fee is increased at P300 per head effective July 1, 2011.

What’s in a zip line anyway? One would ask. You can never tell what’s in it until you gather all the guts in you and take a ride to freedom. It is one exhilarating ride of a life time soaring like a bird conquering space and speed. At first there are the jitters. Just thinking about the height and the morbid thoughts of so many "what-ifs" may stall you from taking the chance to zip. Guts are all it takes. With the overwhelming feeling of unease due to excitement or nervousness, you are tempted to back track. But listening to zip riders who survived the height with all that euphoric comments, you just couldn’t do enough but close your eyes and feel the excitement as two people strap you to the harness, checking all connections and start with a radio message to the landing station with your estimated weight. And with a push, off you go to a ride of endless possibilities – the feeling of being airborne, the sense of being free, the rare chance of zipping through the most beautiful scenery, the privilege of seeing vivid rainbows over the falls and the victorious moments of surviving the ride – best enjoyed with eyes wide-open as you negotiate the height and speed because just below lurk the most beautiful gifts God had created, all in its raging glory. Fear dissolves the very moment you set your eyes below, mesmerism and amazement take over – and that may yet take you to a decision of coming back because two rides are just not enough.....again and again, singing “zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-dey, wonderful feeling, wonderful day!”

Contrasting Lives: Sampaguita and Buko Pie, Anyone?

Thursday, ACTS Office. Break time.

The office door opened so slowly like someone would like to sneak in. It stayed ajar motionless, as if telling everyone inside that the unexpected guest was hesitant to come in. Then she shoved her head like a peeking imp between the door and the jamb, scanned the office, smiled and entered.

 “Sampaguita, anyone? Buy sampaguita from me.” She said in a tone that was more of an order than beg when she fully exposed herself to everyone, raising a bunch of stringed Sampaguita leis in her hand. She approached everyone at their respective tables and said confidently, “C’mon, you buy sampaguita from me!”

Like a shrewd businessman at an early age, Eloisa Yaguno, 8, started elbowing everyone with words to buy her fragrant leis, like a survivor attuned to adult hardships. She was out in the streets selling leis when she should be attending classes at Koronadal Central Elementary School as Grade Two.

“Why do you do this?” asked an employee. “You should be in school!” said another office worker. To these motherly concerns, Eloisa could only smile and say “I don’t like school! I’d rather help my parents find money.”

Eloisa is the fourth daughter among six children of Lito and Helen Yaguno who work in Golden Valley Memorial Garden in Matulas, Bgy. Paraiso, City of Koronadal. “My father works as a grave digger and my mother is a utility aide there, too.”

 “We live across the street from the Bishop’s Palace,” she said. Across the street from the gate of the Bishop’s palace is a squatter’s area called Purok Langitnon. Most adult male and female residents living in that area usually find work in the garbage dumpsite almost a kilometre away, as scavengers or as garbage men in contract as casual employees of the city working in the landfill. Eloisa’s parents may have been blessed to have a decent job, at least, as graveyard helpers.

Purok Langitnon is also a place where teen-age marriage is rampant that couples as young as fifteen years of age already support their own families of one or two children. Work for them coincides with the schedule of garbage collection and dumping to scavenge for recyclable materials such as plastics, damaged electronics,…yes, even jewelleries and cell phones to sell.

Young as she is, Eloisa knew that scavenging is a stinky, dirty job. She chose to sell fragrant sampaguita leis even if it requires almost a four-kilometre walk from her house to Bgy. Sto. Nino where she gets stringed sampaguita from a certain Philip, her supplier.

“So, how much do you earn from this?” another motherly employee asked.

“If everything I sell is bought, then I earn fifty pesos.  Yesterday I earned nothing because I started selling late. Only few were bought,” she lamented.

 Eloisa’s deal meant fifty pesos, a “suhol” or token from Philip once her leis are sold out at 400 pesos, her quota. Below that, she receives nothing because “Philip profits nothing” if she doesn’t sell out.

“As in nothing?” confirmed another employee.

“Yes,” Eloisa replied curtly. “I just walk home empty handed.” Today, she earned twenty pesos from the employees.

A few minutes after Eloisa went out of ACTS Office, another ambulant vendor came in with stacks of boxes in his hands.

“Buko pie, sir? Maam? Buy one, take one offer!” he said in a jolly mood.

Ramil Años, 35, travelled all the way from Polomolok, about 50 kilometers from Koronadal, to sell home-made buko pie and pizza.

His offer of buy one - take one could be the customer’s choice of either a buko pie and pizza or 2 buko pies or 2 pizzas. However you want it, the package price of a pair is 130 pesos.

A father of three boys, Jemel 4, Meljan, 2, and Jerelin, 1 month old, Ramil travels around South Cotabato and General Santos City to sell boxed snacks.

“That could be very expensive,” I told him, “paying for your fare everyday!”

“Except for the food, sir, my boss gives me transportation allowance” he said. “Meals are at personal expense,” he clarified.

Rico Sayson, Ramil’s boss, owns a ten hectare-coconut farm in Polomolok, South Cotabato and started this food peddling business two years ago.

“I am a daily wage earner plus 5% commission from sales, sir!” Ramil narrated. “I can dispose 60 pairs a day and with my earnings I feel blessed, I can well support my family even if I started peddling just in August of last year. With the commission, I am inspired to double my efforts. In Gensan, I can dispose 140 pairs in just one day!”

Having paid for a pair of buko pies, Ramil hastened to leave for a ride to yet another destination, wherever it is, he is assured of his daily wage and food on his family’s table.

In contrast, Eloisa could still be walking by now for her P50....or nothing!

Thumbnails:  The Dumaguete Experience, etcetera!

(How cultures can be wild and annoying sometimes!)

Butch Ledesma Ferrer

The SCCAFI ‘Flalok’, Vol 2. No.2, April-June, 2010

                 Eight hundred sixty five pairs of feet from all parts of the country danced their way to a city of laid-back ambience, a living witness to Spanish-American colonialism seemingly reluctant of the fast pace that you call progress -  the City of Dumaguete in Negros Oriental, Philippines, host to the 1st Philippine International Dance Workshop and Festival. Or simply put, Dance Xchange 2009!

                Among the feet askirmish were the South Cotabato delegation composed of dancers from Kahayag Community Dance & Theater Company under Marfin Frideles, Me’dal Kolon Datal Dance & Theatre Ensemble under Marella and Vivien Ferrer, members of the South Cotabato Dance Society under Jennifer Tupas, ACTS Office represented by Dinky Cagaanan and Denden Fantilanan and SCCAFI, represented by Butch Ferrer. Everyone was under the wings of Noel Garrovillo, member of NCCA Executive Committee on Dance, who made the trip possible and afforded each one a chance to a kaleidoscopic world of experiences. Talk about choosing one’s wild!

                And so everyone packed their pointe shoes, tights, leotards, sandos, purontongs, mostly “pamporma”. Some vouchers for travel had to be served fast, while others begged, err, solicited for the much needed “panggastos”.

 Others even had to be entrepreneurs by taking along Tboli goods for sale. Each one had to think of “kanya-kanyang diskarte” to survive in a not-so-distant place like Dumaguete City.

                Yet as delegates mostly new to the city, one is wont to secure his own subsistence and existence being innocent of Dumaguete’s economy and the economic requirements that it asks from neophytes and erstwhile visitors.

                Pockets would soon determine which route one would take. Choices were: a very early morning one-hour flight to Cebu after holing in Davao for a night after a four- hour trip from Koronadal; almost an hour of taxi ride to Cebu Public Terminal then another four-hour bus ride along Cebu shores to Liloan to board yet another RORO ship to cross the strait in an hour and a half and a little more than an hour bus ride to reach Dumaguete City. “Haaaay, kakapoy!”

                Or take the long stretch of mountainous terrain by bus for eight long hours from Tacurong to Cagayan de Oro to catch a RORO to Cebu for yet another eight hours, then a taxi ride to the terminal for  yet another six hour trip to Dumaguete on the same route taken longer by self-imposed thrift.  Talk about the infamous nautical highway of stalling ships midway at open seas or worst, sinking ships midway!

                Awwwhhh! Morbid thoughts! Either way, you find your pockets easily depleted by the attractive food peddled at your bus window or right at your seat across the aisle, not to mention the food on board ships which costs 300% more.

            Dumaguete City, at last! Finally settled at YMCA, thank God, the next morning we hailed…..what, no cabs? Denden had her day having a wild choice of that motorized “karetela” she fancied the night before. (That explains why she and Dinky had that picture! He, he!)

                “Manong, paki hatud mi sa convention center,” we chorused in broken Bisaya. Off we went on board the motorcycle-drawn “karetela” and for ten minutes, while feasting our eyes on the sights along the city streets, the vehicle slowed and stopped in front of a white building that says “Silliman University Medical Center”.

                “Manong di man mi tagadiri pero kahibaw bitaw mi nga dili na sya convention center.”

                “Ahh, pasensya mo kay wa man ko bati-a kun asa na sya!” Ouch! The nerve to say that! Maybe Dumaguete breeds “silli-men?”

                To make the story short, we reached the convention center after asking for directions where the venue was! Tsk, tsk, tsk! What an event! Talk about an international gathering...hah, too much expectations! And what a sight to behold we had upon entering a colossal and modern convention center. There, among the long queue of registrants, familiar voices rang in familiar berating tones attacking the inefficiency of the people behind the registration counter. “Prepared sila no?”

                “Wala gid ko magsala, si Rudy gid iya!” He, he, he! The usual condescending Rudy and the delegation from Sultan Kudarat, 100 percent present!

                “Naku, Kuya Butch kung sa atin ito, hindi lang bayong ang lalagyan ng kit! Ang iba may CD kami wala! Pareho lang naman ang registration fees na ibinayad namin.”

                “Relax ka na lang dyan, halika hilera tayo lahat dito.”

                “Bakit man?”

                “Magpera o bayong na lang tayo!”

                “Gaga ka talaga!”

                Well, first day impressions could last. “Let’s wait and see what happens next!”

                What happened next really created quite an impression! Since we came a day ahead of the workshop proper, there was no schedule for the day. I left Denden and Dinky to choose their wild having a hen party of their own. I learned that they spent almost four hours inside a second-run cinema. You guessed it right! A double program feature! Hehe, wala sa KCC nyan!

                 Me? I chose to be with the Sultan Kudarat delegation for a short dip in Bacong beach and to have our first lunch in Negros Oriental in that famous public beach resort.

                “May masarap na lechon manok daw dito,” quipped Rudy.

                With that in mind, we hailed another “karetela” and negotiated that we be taken to Bacong, a municipality just about 10 kilometers away from the city for P100, “pakyaw”. The driver agreed for yet another side trip, to the famous lechon manok house to buy lunch.

                The road where the lechon manok house lies was a one-way street. Rudy requested the driver to park the vehicle along the right side of the street, in front of the establishment, for a hasty buy.

                Indeed the traffic flow was turtle-paced as customers rushed in and out since it was about lunch time. Then, a petite orange lady with a pair of macho ray-ban approached us and ordered the driver ill-manneredly to move the vehicle as she guides a yellow Adventure to slip against the flow of traffic. The nerve she had berating on the hapless driver who explained that his passengers are delegates and that we were just buying food!

                It was that particular drama playing on the street when Rudy came with each hand carrying a bag of roasted chicken. He tried to explain but the orange lady wouldn’t budge. Altercation soon ensued, with Rudy fuming mad and started to spew out explanations yet the lady gave deaf ears. You could just imagine how the drama ended with Rudy swearing to report the orange lady to the headquarters after we come back from Bacong. “Hintay ka lang pagbalik namin! Gaga!”

                To this the orange lady shouted, “Bayot!”

              And to this too, we all shouted back, “dugay na!”

            We laughed as if we haven’t had a lifetime laughing our bowels out. Guffaws trailed us until we reached the town of Bacong. Thank God, the sea water did not rise to a boil when everyone took a dive to cool off dust, anger, annoyance and all!

                On the way home, Rudy made true his promise. We dropped by the headquarters to report the misconduct of a woman in uniform.

                 “Naku, kung sa amin lang siya, kanina pa siya pinulot sa kangkongan.” Oh no, there goes the famous line from people of notorious origins again! Hehehe! Intimidation against intimidation! Arrogance against arrogance!

             “May mananalo pa ba sa taga Region XII?”

              If that sounded as a threat, then one must know “kung sinong binangga nila!” As if we belong to the terrorist bloc no? Well, sometimes it helps being someone who hails from a place widely known for occasional bombings, summary killings and what have you! .It creates a notion of eerie strength, an imagined authority albeit negative notoriety. Talk about regional culture? “Sige na nga!”

                And it came to pass. The Festival opened with fanfare and funfare. Uhuh! Every was agog with the grand opening but the Lady in Red drained us out with a speech that lasted almost two hours balking on issues that would be appropriate in a campaign trail. Many wouldn’t have noticed but I saw  two arms lifting a golden chair enough to nudge the President to confer the National Artist title to the holier than thou! Much fun here, indeed!

                Oh well, it’s good the production number was a sight to behold. And true indeed to the fanfare, a big Dance X logo was theatrically unfurled—you bet, it’s a fan alright! And performance after performance followed. Some were world class, others? Well, my trained eye would ask the question why were they invited to perform in a prestigious dance festival such as this?

                When asked if the group performing is good, people in the know, mostly from Region XII would look at you blankly, put a forefinger under the nostrils and “yun na!” The answer was in question like—”baho man?” Or politely, one would quip “epistaxis!” Nose bleed! Or in drama we call it epistasis—a plot that develops into a catastrophe...it was good nobody was victimized by an impending calamity.

                Workshops followed. The famous Sri Lankan “one, ageyn” was talk of the day. Imagine eight hundred people doing the “one ageyn” exercise twelve times as if there was no tomorrow. The exercise? At the count of one, in a demi plie position you shift your body with your leg to the right. Ready, one….ageyn!” What does he think about us, Filipino dancers? Idiots?

         For me, idiocy is achieved when one doesn’t know his culture or worst he doesn’t know how to exercise his cultural liberty. If indeed he knows, he might be a victim of “living mode exclusion” where he is denied recognition or respect, or his identity would qualify him for “participation exclusion”. Without his knowledge, behind his back!

       Why?

         All because of his cultural identity! All because he shouldn’t belong! All because he is barred from “competition”! All because he is good and becomes a threat to the established dance institutions. That’s why there are groups who are better than those we saw but were never given the chance to prove their worth. Because chances are curtailed by the powers that be! Vested interests? Talk about culture, crabbish or otherwise, it could be traced back to the very office that safeguards culture – the culture of whom you know and never what you know!

                 Well, enough for the gripes—there’s no grievance panel to hear you out. In summation, the whole thing was a mess. One thing sure, we earned friends and enemies but on top of that, the travel to Dumaguete was an eye opener: that it should have been better selling pirated CDs and DVDs just outside the workshop venue or sell beads and bracelets or quietly shoo away to Siquijor or Bohol, whatever takes your fancy. Or best, scanning somebody’s certificates of participation and appearance in a computer and print it as a proof even if he did not register as an official delegate – for reimbursements!

                One redeeming note, however, was the session of foot massage in Dumaguete Church courtyard where Mayok Hiponia of Tboli, South Cotabato had to take off his wood-bead necklace and used it as a rosary for the pain inflicted by reflexology, dutifully passed on to Ronnie dela Pena of the City of Tacurong when he took the session, also grimacing in pain—hehehe!

                The aftermath was peacefully relaxing—as in a dance for giving all. And being “back home” is gratifying as in a curtain call when you realize that the cultural environment is too notoriously familiar where one could forget the Dumaguete experience and lull you to a peaceful slumber. Hallelujah! Bow

Dandansoy: Singing My Roots....

“Dandansoy, bayaan ta ikaw,
Pauli ako sa Payao...
Ugaling kun ikaw hidlawon,
Ang Payao imo lang lantawon...

Dandansoy, kun imo apason
Bisan tubig di ka magbalon
Ugaling kun ikaw uhawon
Sa dalan magbubon-bubon...

Kumbento, sa diin ang kura
Munisipyo sa diin hustisya
Yari si Dansoy makiha,
Makiha sa paghigugma...

Panyo mo kag ining panyo ko
gisi-gisi-a kay tambihon ko
Ugaling kug magkasilo
Bana ta ikaw, asawa mo ako...”

Bidding goodbye to a husband in times when one needed him most is painful. More so if the husband would cross the seas to look for greener pasture in a faraway island of Mindanao in 1939. This pain had been kept a secret in Fortunata Magsipoc Ledesma’s heart for almost 26 years...until her longing was published nationwide.... as a song Dandansoy in 1965, in a book “Philippine Progressive Music Series Book III!

My grandmother, Fortunata, Lola Forting to us, was a teacher at Culasi Elementary School in Antique when the National Land Settlement Administration under the management of General Paulino Santos opened the gates of Mindanao, then touted as the Land of Promise, to settlers from Luzon and Visayas. Back in the 1930s, Mindanao was opened for settlement for the landless by the Commonwealth Government under President Manuel Luis Quezon.

Invited to explore the promises of the South were Antiqueño educators, one of whom was Lolo Ernesto Arriola Ledesma or Lolo Nesto, her husband and an Industrial Arts-Carpentry teacher, He would belong to the first wave of educators who were tasked to build and run a school in Marbel, then an established settlement area in Koronadal Valley next to Buayan (now General Santos City) and Tupi.

“Hordes of Visayans from Panay and Negros Occidental sailed to Mindanao on board S/S Tablas in the late 1930s, disembarking at Parang, Cotabato, followed by a three-day exodus southward, camping on the sides of the road at night to rest and sleep. Mostly sacadas (sugarcane farmhands) from Antique and Bacolod, the trekkers walked from Dulawan to Buluan in three days, crossed Buluan Lake by wooden boats to the shores of Lutayan to settle finally in Marbel,” my late Aunt Nora, their eldest daughter, would narrate to us, nieces and nephews. She was the historian of the family and from her I was able to trace roots.

Driven by a long and lingering understanding that Lolo Nesto’s family belonged to the landless, I believed that there was a strong motive for him to seek for fortune in Mindanao and that he had to leave his own family in Culasi, Antique to look for greener pastures. My belief had proven me wrong when, after thirty years, I had the occasion to visit Culasi in July of this year.

The journey to my Mom’s birthplace was enriching yet nostalgic. Embarking on a trip with the sole purpose of reestablishing and patching distance-severed ties with relatives because of migration resulted to more realizations than what I had expected. My last mental picture of Culasi was still vivid as how I saw it when I was eighteen years old attending school at UP in Iloilo City in 1978. My summer vacation that year was spent in that quaint little town where everyone seemed to be a relative. Culasi was a picture of simple living, laid back, yes, but happy!

My earliest recall of Culasi was through my mother’s story when, at eight months old, I was brought there for a vacation with my older siblings for the first time. It became very significant for me because I was pursued by a local “aswang” named Carnay. My mom told me that I was wailing that night after Carnay saw me earlier that day and commented how robust I was as a baby. Well. my grandfather’s house, for one, was a corner away from the kamposanto or sementeryo that made the setting ghoulish and Carnay’s house was just in front of Lolo’s house across the street.

Believed to be a neighborly “aswang”, Carnay who was transformed into a winged tik-tik had received invectives from my Lolo Nesto as he brandished his shining bolo pointing it to the roof directly over where I slept. “I know you,” he would say, “ try harming my grandson and you’ll get what you were looking for!” As soon as the scratching on the roof dissipated and flaps of imaginably big wings were heard shooing away, I was told I just stopped wailing and went on to sleep soundly, as if nothing happened! That particular story would prop me to travel back to Culasi and investigate on the veracity of the incident, True to what I’ve discovered, my older relatives confirmed that my mom’s story was never an urban legend! Carnay had long been dead and whoever inherited “that stone” to continue the aswang legacy became immaterial as the story was obliterated by the fast growth of the municipality as it adapted to modernization brought by the changing times.

Culasi has since then grown into an urbanized municipality being one of the major stops for airconditioned buses plying the Manila-Iloilo City route. Gone were the Bukaw wood-bodied buses with horizontal seating arrangement that could accommodate eight passengers per row, passing through the wall-less right side. Imagine how could a passenger taking the leftmost-side seat disembark at his destination with seven passengers blocking his way through? Gone were the days when the bus would negotiate rugged terrain and strong currents of widest rivers, sometimes nervously staying still in the middle of the onrush because the engine was wet and went dead? Gone too were the ambulant vendors of boiled eggs, peanuts, balulo, bande, bukayo, bulad, kalamay-hati, moscovado and sineguwelas, whose chattering would wake you up from a hypnotic trance due to the whirring of the engine and the constant bodyshake at a certain stop? Gone too was the panoramic view of Malalison Island from the backyard of my grandfather’s property as it stretched to the shores or the baybay, as present-day squatters, mostly Maguindanao muslims had swept away the memories of us children basking on the waves of the sea by building their shanties blocking the view? These images were just fragments of fleeting moments now and the shanties never ceased to grow in number.

The old Hispanic St. Michael’s simbahan and parokya then full of life-sized santos gave way to the modern architecture church and had been enclosed inside a perimeter wall, within the St. Michael’s Academy campus. The old plaza is now well-manicured and the town hall had undergone a major face-lift. It maintained the façade; however, the original Capiz-shell windows were painted, coating Culasi’s history with obscurity. Only the second floor lobby that transforms into a trial court and a public conference venue, if need be, housed a parcel of history that gave me the feel that a part of me was at home, at last!

There, hanged along the aged wooden walls were framed portraits of the past leaders called cabo publico del municipio in the 1800’s, municipal presidents in the early 1900’s and municipal mayors in the present. Among the frames were that of Municipal Presidents Fortunato Villaflor Ledesma, 1926-1928 and Guillermo Magsipoc, 1910-1912, my apoy Nato and apoy Imo. Then, an overwhelming realization crept over me. My grandparents’ families would not have been landless! Truth to the matter, I was shown the vast properties both families have - from the Ledesma’s hiraya properties to the Magsipoc’s baybay properties, still kumon! The expanse of properties was insignificant, though - what became a very vital discovery was that, my grandparents Fortunata and Ernesto were not landless. They belonged to the illustrados of Culasi, to prominent political clans that had served the municipality since the early 1900’s. Then what was it that drove my lolo Nesto to explore and to look for greener pastures in Mindanao? In Koronadal Valley per se?

Culasi just ushered me a lot of why’s. Then deductions came like pouring water - was it because of political families in conflict with differing ideologies? Was it because my grandmother’s family disapproved of my grandfather due to political beliefs? Was it because their love would like to stand the test of times in another world and be free without committing the classic Shakespearean Romeo and Juliet ultimate escape? Whatever was the motive then, it had lain covered by the lyrics of Dandansoy,...that glancing, just mere glancing, would establish a pact, a commitment of love that would meet again in another time on a cherished soil!

As I found myself on board a modern Ceres bus enroute to Iloilo for my trip back home to Koronadal, I was silently in pain, seeing the images of Culasi fleet away through the bus’ glass window. The trip had been too nurturing that I silently shed tears, in my heart I was singing, Dandansoy, the song of love, the song of my roots - and if ever I long for Culasi, all I have to do is glance at its direction, then I’ll be at peace, my mind and heart, aligned!

Tracing up a Southern Food Trail

Meg S. Balucanag and Butch L. Ferrer

Trailblazing usually ends with discoveries of hidden treasures a destination can offer – it gives an overwhelming surge of accomplishment if you discover nature’s secrets, all by your lonesome. Finding a sight to behold for the first time and the overwhelming feeling of being there; basking on the glory of your discovery always reinforces your belief that trailblazing is best among what travel brochures promote. It is discovery, yes, and the surge of fulfillment is unmistakably euphoric, for sure!

But how would you feel if the trail you follow is not that destination your feet take you to? What would your feelings be should your nose and stomach lead you somewhere else? Yes, a gastronomic trail! Like discovering a place that offers everything about food and beyond?

From the point of entry to the farthest town in this southern-most part of the country, South Cotabato’s secret treasures include a wide selection of cuisine that would certainly entice your appetite - whether you’re a discriminating diner, an adventurous tourist or just a hungry traveler. Your visit may not be complete and memorable without following the southern gastronomic trail and have a taste of the southerners’ unique table fare.

South Cotabatenos know how to eat and where to find “eat”. As good eaters, they also know how to serve superb edibles and surprisingly, the places where these edibles are found create an exciting trail challenging you to draw your own gastronomic map.

Rule #1. Follow your nose and fill your stomach!

A food trail of the provinces’ culinary specialties begins at the basin (General Santos City, your point of entry) where tuna catch is abundant year-round.  Diners are welcomed with posh al frescos or moderately-priced indoor restos which ambience spells nothing but t-u-n-a. Tuna can be found anywhere and imagining how it will be prepared for you is already mouth watering. A must-try down south is to experience the true tuna happiness, whether it’s export grade or not, a bite or two will tell you that you have set foot in the Tuna capital of the Philippines!

 The best part of the tuna anatomy, unexpectedly, is its collar or mandible and tail. Not much flesh there, but they are the yummiest! The mandible’s fine flesh hiding in the crevices of the bone and the sticky white succulent ligaments of the tail are to die for. Look for the menu and order for crispy panga or buntot, boiled and pickled first, then deep fried till golden brown. It is served with a sinamak dip (coco vinegar spiced with red siling labuyo, turmeric ginger, black pepper corns and garlic) that wakens your spirits to head on to the next gastronomic conquest. Excellent reminder of your southern sojourn, first phase!

If you opt for a fleshier dish, you can request for tuna belly steak-ala-pobre, medium rare. For the “very rare” enthusiasts, the famous kinilaw is tops! You can have a ball in the varied selection of its condiments: cucumber, radish, carrots, sea weeds, salted black beans, salted eggs prepared in simple vinaigrette or kalamansi or coconut milk or mayonnaise….endless innovations to satisfy discriminating tastes. However it is prepared, rest assured, you can forget your sashimi and its Yen-ny price in the mean time!

For the more adventurous trailblazers, there are su-to-kil places around. No, don’t get this wrong…forget about homonyms! Su-to-kil is a coined word for three-in-one preparation of your tuna- sugba or grilled, the tola (or tinola) or soupy version with tomatoes, ginger, spring onions and green jalapenos, and kinilaw. Or savor the bagaybay (tuna roe) sinugba or innards prepared as caldereta (stew) with mushroom buttons or Chinese-style sari-sari .Exotic? That’s for you to judge.

Traversing the 60-kilometre road going north from the Tuna republic towards the Provincial Capitol in the City of Koronadal, you will find a town named Polomolok, (about fifteen minutes riding time) the home of Dole Philippines, famous for its pineapples. But alas! Pineapples no longer hug headlines here but the ice cream. Travel a few kilometers more and you will find Durian Garden which serves, yes, you guessed it right- the heavenly durian ice cream! Indeed, a refreshing treat minus the abhorrent smell that shies away most first-time eaters from trying the king of fruits which “smells like hell but tastes like heaven!”As an added bonus, you can explore Durian Garden’s mini zoo of exotic birds, ostrich, lizards, and yes, crocs.

Further on, twenty five minutes later, you’ll chance upon the municipality of Tupi which is famous for its Nadie’s - “the best thing that ever happened to a chicken” – barbecue. For years, this business serves nothing but the best charcoal- grilled chicken in the province, pa-a or pecho marinated in the family’s secret recipe. Lavatories are found in just about any corner of this chicken house because they believe that you can enjoy the barbecue more by eating with your bare hands. Ignoring the chance will surely give you a pang in conscience. By the way, never forget to ask for the freebie, on-the-house bulalo soup, to cap your gustatory trek with a loud burp.

However, today, competition has been taking a slice of Nadie’s habitués. Located near a secondary school, just along the main highway, is Tanok’s. Gaining rapid popularity is their own version of chicken barbecue which has the same golden brown color when cooked rightly, but with a distinctively different taste. For a freebie, they have bottomless egg soup instead. The two barbecue joints offer limitless rice to customers and when their barbecues stalemate in taste, the rice matters – soft, steamy and aromatic rice paces their competitive edges.

As you enter the outskirts of the City of Koronadal, a few minutes from the chicken house, you will be greeted by mushrooming make-shift stalls of nilagang mais (boiled corn) singkamas (jicama), camote (yam), buko (young coconut) and langgaw tuba (vinegar from fermented coco juice) in Barangay Saravia. Small tables line the road for travelers who want to quench thirst aground by having a sip of iced fresh buko juice straight from the coconut. Soon others ventured in buko-halo, a delightful concoction of crushed ice, milk and sugar, caramelized fruits like banana, camote, jackfruit, kidney beans, sago, gulaman (agar gel) and crested with a scoop of vanilla or ube ice cream and a generous slice of leche flan (milk custard), served on a young coconut halve.  An instant hit among travelers especially during the hot, dry season. For the sweet-toothed tourist, fresh and pocket-friendly buko halo-halo is always up and ready at Apareja’s.

Once afoot in the City of Koronadal, otherwise known as Marbel by the locals, you will be tempted to have a sample of each among varied choices of food the city offers. With the increasing number of giant food franchises found in every corner of the city, the authentic Ilonggo cuisine still outshines others. The original La Paz batchoy has evolved into different tastes and marketing, depending on which batchoyan you may happen to discover. Everyone seems to claim to be “original” but judging on the presentation and the recipe, one is slightly inferior to another. Whatever batchoyan that is, your palate decides the winner! Worth trying are Ted’s, Larry’s or Popoy’s. One batchoyan gaining popularity is Hapit Anay (Drop by) because of its affordable price yet competitive taste.

 Behind the busy streets of the city, Food Harbor along Osmeña Street is one place where you can find thirty or more food at your fingertips. Yes, it’s a “turo-turo” self-service joint where you can dine anytime, from 6:00am to 12:00 midnight! But just a reminder, don’t go there at lunch or dinner time; the place will surely be teeming with diners. If you wish to enjoy eating without queuing for food, then coming earlier or later than the usual eating time is advised. Price range? Fifteen pesos to forty-five pesos per order.

If you have the luxury to be choosy and needed a little classy ambience, then Mang Gorio’s is the place for you. Strategically juxtaposed with Food Harbor, Mang Gorio’s along GenSan Drive, offers home-cooked goodness with its sinigang, adobo, kare-kare and other best-loved Pinoy dishes. However, pork is a no-no as it offers only “halal” food in deference to non-Christian eaters. Right after a sumptuous meal, you can proceed to its next door neighbor, McGregor’s, for a tall or short cup of connoisseur coffee served hot or cold according to your preferences. They also have the best black forest, blueberry cheese cake, sans rival and tiramisu in town although the price is a little inhibiting to some. But then, who’s stopping you from your binge? One more thing, you can drool over the net as it is legitimate WiFi.

  Looking for pork may not be too far away. Just head on to the city’s landmark, the infamous “round ball”, and turn left to Alunan Avenue and stop at the first junction at Abad Santos Street. You will find a building that looks like a Maguindanao turugan with a roof that resembles an upturned boat. It is called Tiana’s. Rather anathema to its concept design, the establishment satisfies your cravings for a pork sisig with a twist. Ordinary looking it may seem but once it gets in your mouth, a mayonnaisey taste balances the crunchy pork skin al dente. Catering mostly to the yuppies, Tiana’s interior walls offer a soothing respite to the working class, and outside, its garden umbrellas simply create a more relaxing mood making your sisig more delicious, best paired with hot steamed rice as sud-an or with bottles of beer as sumsuman.

 Turning left once more to traverse Abad Santos Street, a bahay Pinoy converted into a bistro serves the best pasta in town. Aptly called Sa Balai Bistro, it is home to the cheesiest, creamiest, and meatiest lasagna. Prepared and baked by no other than proprietor Carlo Ebeo himself, the bistro’s lasagna tastes even better with his sensible chit-chat on the side, sharing his culinary expertise and arts management skills graciously when asked. Also to die for is Sa Balai’s originals: chicken tandoori, beef kebabs (very tender) and the very original Pochero/Bulalo Steak with all the vegetables minus the soup - its tomato-based gravy glazing the most tender meat is deliciously unforgettable! Sa Balai Bistro boasts of Pinoy crafts from wood-carved anitos to baskets as its interior decors making it conversation pieces. Unsurprisingly, Sa Balai Bistro has yuppies and artists as clients as the ambience is artistically nurturing, inspired by Mozart, Beethoven and Bach setting the mood for an intellectual repartee.

If by chance you have arrived at night following this trail full and in the mood for a tipsy trip, the bistro has a night bar stocked with the top-grossing San Miguel products and other spirits. Maskara Bar opens to the street of Abad Santos like a hole in the wall that lends a very Remedios Street feel in Manila. No rock and ballad music here…just jazz and world music.

 Moving up towards southwest and moving outside of Koronadal, you will be enthralled by the vast corn and rice fields between municipalities of Banga and Surallah. Surprisingly, before approaching Banga Bridge, you can find Ojie’s, an isolated ice cream parlor along the highway where you can have a selection of home-made ice cream flavors: cheese, ube, chocolate, mango, buko salad, durian. Topping the list is cheese flavor, its best-seller!

As you go along further west, in the midst of the seemingly endless field of rice and corn, you chance upon Fortune Field. As the name suggests, it is indeed a field of fortune but owners do not cash in on crops but has found, well, fortune in pantat  or catfish, more popularly known as hito. That black, slimy, fresh water mud-fish-with- whiskers kind of Taiwanese breed! Imaginable different ways of ‘hito’ dishes are prepared here, but the deep-fried and sinugbang hito are sharing equal limelight as  highly recommended. Of course, you can also try equally delicious ginataang hito, adobong hito, paksiw na hito, etc, etc, until you burp, breathe and smell hito, God forbid! One viand that stands out to rehab you from the ensuing hito “addiction” is nilagpang na manok, an Ilonggo soup dish of grilled native chicken cooked in cream, tomatoes, ginger, spring onions.

In the final leg of your trailblazing, you’ll find yourself zigzagging through the national highway ascending to the paradise of the south called Lake Sebu, a municipality cuddled by majestic mountain ranges that cast mystic spell to first time visitors and leave them enchanted with the blend of nature and culture. Home to different endangered species and eco-adventure activities like boating, ziplining, trekking and mountaineering, it is the bastion of Tbolis – the colorful, most embellished and most sociable cultural community in the country.

The lake, S’bu, as it is called by the natives, supplies them life. It is the same lake where the unmatched tilapias are bred and grown. Tilapias are sold anywhere around town. But they are most available in the numerous lake and mountain resorts, cooked in so many, many ways. Topping the list is the most popular chicharon tilapia followed by kinilaw, pinaputok, inadobo, pinaksiw, ginat-an..in any order! . Not having chicharon clenched between your teeth during one of your visits there won’t be fulfilling and that gives you the feeling of not having been there. Estares, Dolores, Punta Isla Resort are the best choices for dining….once tired and spent following this trail, you can book a room in these resorts by the lake or opt for a mountain retreat in Mountain Log or Monte Cielo, either way, you will not regret your decision. But if you are  thrift-saver, move on a little farther to the Municipal Tourism Lodge and bask on the view of Lake Sebu, the town and S’bu, the lake.

As a pure South Cotabateña and a self-confessed food trailblazer, I have known these places by heart and I can identify every place exactly where they are even if I am blind folded.  Knowing it too much gave me the privilege to familiarize the best places to dine where pleasure and satisfaction is best encountered - because I believed in my instincts to try what they offer and because I followed my nose!

Remembering Kota Kinabalu: The 5th SIFF Story

REMEMBERING KOTA KINABALU: THE 5^TH SIFF STORY

Butch Ferrer, Artistic Director, Me’dal Kolon Datal

Are you coming back to join SIFF? A message from Veron Jd on my Facebook account froze my night. I couldn’t think forward. The question gripped me still and in an instant, images appeared before me like a movie in my mind, unraveling the past, exactly two years ago.

July 2010. Just as the Province of South Cotabato prepared for its Foundation Anniversary, two transport vans revved for our 1:00 early morning trip to Davao City. At daybreak, as hundreds of performers for the day’s Street Dancing competition lined up for the Anniversary Parade, we were queuing in Davao International Airport’s check-in counter for a flight on board Cebu Pacific Air. As the Tnalak soundtrack blasted on baffles to start the competition rolling in South Cotabato, so did a voice in the departure area’s PA, announcing that we should board the aircraft. As groups of street performers stomped and swayed and danced their way through the cemented streets of the city of Koronadal, fifteen Medal Kolon Datal Dance and Theatre Ensemble (MKD-DTE) members stretched, and yawned and snored our way through the vast air space to Manila, enroute to Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia to represent South Cotabato in the 5^th International Folklore Festival, as the official entry from the Philippines.

                After claiming all our baggage from the arrival area, we went out to take another private shuttle bus to Clark International Airport in Pampanga for our flight to Kota Kinabalu scheduled at 4:50pm. We have to be at the airport before 2:00pm as tickets had to be bought at the Air Asia counter. We were told that sales were brisk because it was peak season. Good enough we were able to contact Air Asia’s Sales Office ahead of time and was able to book the group and was assured of 15 seats. Whew!

                Our flight schedule was a little delayed due to some Immigration issues - our minor members’ papers were questioned but was soon ironed out. We were cleared to board the plane, the last group to do so, to the consternation of the passengers who were thirty minutes ahead of us and were fanning themselves as the cabin’s aircon was off. I was the last person to board Air Asia AK Flight 6265 bound to Kota Kinabalu, Sabah, Malaysia, acting as the group’s leader and of course, sweeper. At exactly 5:30, our plane taxi-ed to the runway and in full throttle, climbed the Philippine skies, slightly ditching west and turned towards the south.

                In a few minutes and airborne, digicameras soon flashed to capture the first international flight of MKD-DTE and spirited talks made everyone awake, the excitement, obvious! However, the constant humming of the AK airbus, with the refreshing coolness of the aircon drew us to a hypnotic state, eyelids heavy with sleeplessness tried to win over our overwhelming feelings. The taxing four hour-trip from Koronadal to Davao, one hour and forty-five minute-flight to Manila, an hour and a half shuttle ride to Pampanga and almost 5-hour wait at Clark International Airport started to exact its toll on us. Add to this, another two-hour flight over international airspace proved too much to handle – for the whole duration of the flight, we slept, with snores matching the humming of the plane’s engine, giving a contrapuntal harmony.

                A raspy voice with a Malaysian accent announcing to straighten up our seats and fasten our seatbelts awakened us. The plane started its descent with turbulence as the skies over Kota Kinabalu were grey and thick. It was raining on the ground, from our plane portholes we saw citylights growing bigger as the plane approached the runway for a touchdown. We were in Kota Kinabalu! And the ordeal that we had in the Philippines was unburdened from our heads and hearts in a second, as excitement had recharged everyone, silently asking ourselves just what were in store for us in this foreign land.

                It was raining when we deplaned yet it did not stop us to pose at the tarmac for posterity. An airport guard signaled us not to take pictures as it was prohibited. We smiled and apologized and followed the passengers’ queue for a long walk to Arrivals and Malaysian Immigration for our final entry to Sabah, Malaysia.

                As other members of the Philippine delegation were busy having their passports stamped in a booth with “SIFF Delegates” poster, I was scanning a throng of welcomers through the glass panes that divide the waiting lounge and the immigration booths. A placard with “Philippines” on it was raised by a man who was in a printed Malaysian polo shirt. I waved my hand to signify that we are from the Philippines. Seeing me, the man nodded, smiled and signaled that we should proceed to where he was standing after receiving our stamp of approval from Immigration.

                People from the Sabah Cultural Board (SCB) requested for our baggage claim stubs and two men ushered us to the gates, where, to our surprise, SCB’s man Mr. Joisin Rumut and his reception committee women in colorful and exotic Malaysian dresses, were waiting to receive us with beaded necklaces,  and lo!....TV crew and hosts! An ambush interview ensued as our baggages were loaded to a truck while cameras flashed on us like celebrities. It was a blessing in disguise that back at Clark, I ordered my team to wear the official blue South Cotabato Performing Arts Ensemble uniform before boarding the plane, we never knew that we would be on Malaysian TV!  It was amazing - we were afforded the best reception we had ever experienced in our performing lives! In the Philippines we could only be starstruck, here in Sabah, we were the stars! But that was just an appetizer, so to speak! It was past seven in the evening.

            Veron Ecqa Jd was waiting inside our tourist bus when we boarded. She introduced herself as our liaison officer for the duration of the ten-day festival. She was petite and amiable. She speaks few English words and our communication was compensated by sign language. She was bubbly as she oriented us with festival and house rules, handing me some sheets of reminders. MKD-DTE established friendship with her at an instant, showing the Filipino value of graciousness and hospitality even if we were the guests, not her. We clicked at once!

                “I like Philippines,” she would say when asked and her propensity for anything Filipino had grown as we stayed longer in Kota Kinabalu, as we , too, had grown a special fondness for her. She was a perfect mother hen that once the “ice was broken”, she was considered just one of us, laughing at our jokes, reminding us of the daily schedule, knocking at our doors everyday, prompting us of the activities and sharing some infos about Sabah, her culture and of course, the best destinations her very own place could offer, sights, food and souvenirs.

                Our bus stopped right in front of Promenade Hotel where the Welcome Dinner would start in a few minutes. Mr. Rumut told us to proceed to the dinner with no chance to settle our baggage and wash up at the Marina Court Seaside Resort Condominium, our residence for ten days, just beside the hotel. We were the last group to arrive for the day. I was told that China would be arriving on the 23rd, making them the latest entry to the SIFF. It was not a surprise to everyone why the Philippine delegation was in sporty shorts or in maong pants with the South Cotabato Performing  Arts Ensemble uniform (thanks God!), and jackets, and a little wet from the rains experienced at the tarmac of Kota Kinabalu International Airport.

                As we entered the Rafflesia Ballroom, a warm welcome was afforded to us by the Sabah Cultural Board performers, all in indigenous costumes, all in tribal raiment with opulent bird feathers - the pheasant’s and the peacock’s. Festival kits were handed to us as we approached another set of costumed receptionists amidst the heavy and frenzied beats of indigenous drums. It was overwhelming! We were then ushered to our table by uniformed and respectful waiters. On the table was a big Philippines nametag. We settled on our seats but our eyes were rolling around checking the grand interiors of the ballroom - the fuschia and purple lights setting the mood for the welcoming event that would start in a few minutes.

                An officer of the Sabah Cultural Board approached our table and asked for the leader of the Philippine delegation. I presented myself and was told to occupy another table with the other heads of delegation somewhere in the middle of the ballroom, fronting the stage.

                 I found myself seated with the heads of Egypt, Latvia, Kazakhstan, Taiwan, Saudi Arabia, Romania and Thailand- them in their fineries, me in my travelling shorts and Crocs sandals. I excused myself for looking haggard and unprepared, they understood! Dinner was soon served.

                Malaysian food served seemed to look yummy but  I never had the craving for it. Hunger never sunk in to me as of yet. I was mesmerized by the feel that we were in a foreign country, representing the Philippines in a gathering of performers representing their respective national dance groups. It was unbelievable that a small dance company, an ensemble, coming from a remote province such as South Cotabato could join the ranks of highly respected dance groups in their own countries and in the world. But what was more surprising, everyone in the ballroom was very eager to see the Philippine delegation -words reaching me after arrival that in the SIFF arena of dance, the Philippine delegation is the group to watch, as previous entries representing our country had established a reputation as being the strongest group to beat - winning the past SIFFs.

                Dinner was a full course Malaysian cuisine -  pungent, spicy, salty, sweet..hmmmm, unexplainably delicious. The entree was a vegetable salad with dried fish flakes, rolled like our own lumpia, rather salty for Filipino tongue. The main course was a smelly meat dish which I found out to be venison cooked with coconut milk, cumin and spices. The abhorrent smell was overpowered by the tanginess of the spices that my entrails seemed to be burning at first, leaving a peculiar taste, say, truly Asian. The dessert was also Malaysian, just like our very own kinumis, sweet and chilled to cool off the burning sensation one felt.  Over-all impact? Well, one should try Maguindanao dishes here in Mindanao with gata and kalawag to orient taste buds and be adaptive to Southeast Asian cuisine.

Welcome Program was  a visual feast. Sabah, a predominantly Moslem State, showed its opulence through the pageantry of its performing arts - a showcase of its multi-tribal culture - celebrating unity amidst diversity which is the embodiment of SIFF’s theme “Peace through Culture”.

                Datuk Masidi Manjun, Honourable Minister of Tourism, Culture and Environment of Sabah, Malaysia formally welcomed the delegations with the distribution of stuffed Orang Utan monkeys as mascot/souvenir of the festival. Opening program finally ended at almost midnight. We were ushered to our rooms at the 10th floor of the adjacent Marina Court Seaside Resort Condominium which would be our home away from home for ten days. Before we retired, we rehearsed our Maguindanao Suite for a pocket show scheduled the next day.

                The following day, we found ourselves in queue at the Court’s resto and coffee bar for breakfast. It was the first time we met other delegations coming from Malaysia, Indonesia, Singapore, Latvia, Egypt, Romania, Saudi Arabia, Uzbekistan, Kazakhstan, India, Taiwan, and Thailand. The Thais were friendly, maybe because of the fact that most of its dancers were as young as my members. They joined tables and in halting English language, the ice was broken and a special bond was created between the Filipinos and the Thais.

                Our luxury buses were lined up ouside Marina Court waiting for delegates to be ferried to pocket shows scheduled at 9am to 12 noon.

Our first exposure on a foreign stage was at SMK Bahang, a private secondary school. Our group was joined by two other delegations , Egypt and Thailand, doing a five-minute dance suite as required. There was a forum where we were able to share our local culture to the Malaysians who welcomed the Philippine delegation with the loudest cheers as our Maguindanaoan culture is closely similar to theirs. Photo ops ended the performance. As we walked out of the campus looking for our bus, the Thais graciously offered their parasols to my members because the noonday sun was scorching - again, the bond became stronger as the talks became more animated than the first meeting at the resto.

               

                 It was past eleven when we left the school and the organizers decided to bring us back to Marina Court for a fast lunch. The lunch break was a turning point. As Artistic Director, I decided to change our showcase into one that SIFF had never seen before. I hurriedly instructed my group to change into Blaan raiment as I have decided to showcase a very South Cotabato performance with our very own Blaan dances. The delegations were surprised upon seeing us in a set of totally different costumes, the girl’s beaded and brass belts tingling noisily, announcing a threat and intimidating others - “here comes the Philippines!”

               

                Our next stops were at Seri Insan, Tshung Tsin, and Kian Kok, all big shopping malls. Surprisingly for a small city in a small state like Sabah, economy is healthy as shown by the mushrooming malls and we found ourselves performing in newly-opened ones. We performed “Aral di Fafiu Bawu-Aral Sufrayun-Aral Asda-as” suite with live music to the amazement of everyone. To the Sabah Cultural Board we became instant favorite, to the other delegations, we became a group to reckon with! Like celebrities, audience approached us for photo ops.

               

                By late afternoon, we travelled for about 45 minutes to 1 Borneo Karamunsing Complex, the biggest mall in Kota Kinabalu for a promotional show. There we met just a lot of Pinoys, mostly from Zamboanga Peninsula, who used the “backdoor” via Sandakan as point of entry to Sabah. A lady compatriot  from Pagadian City, Zamboanga approached us for a souvenir photo and asked us what dance did we perform. “Is that Igorot?” she asked.

                As Artistic Director, I had to tell her of other indigenous groups thriving in Mindanao to which she retorded “Igorot is all I know!” From that incident I realized that we need to expose and promote more of these ethnic things back home.

                Third day at KK meant courtesy call to the Mayor. A “High Tea Party” was hosted by the City Mayor at the KK City Hall. All delegations were presented with a set of miniature Bornean gongs as welcome gifts as we, too, presented the Mayor with our “pasalubong”. From us, we gave him a “Slo’ong” - a Tboli headgear.

                As the week progressed, we found ourselves taking time to rehearse our contest piece during breaktime, that meant unholy hours that we have to squeeze in as the schedules for performances, although lax, was physically straining.

                The remaining days with SIFF delegates were a study in contrast. While delegations from the Asian countries could present different dances included in their repertoire, it was a pity that European countries like Latvia , Romania and Middle Eastern Saudi Arabia could only present the same dance all throughout. Even if their respective countries are rich by any standards, we, Asians in general and as Pinoys in particular, are far richer than these countries in culture and the arts. Dance for these countries was just that, movements, revelry and music!

                In contrast Asian dances were lifted to a level where strict and rigid discipline is employed, guided by traditions. I observed that the highest level of discipline was shown by the Thais with their fluidity and passion; and the Taiwanese, with their technique, precision and synchronization.

With these observations, I identified them to be the groups to contend with in the competition round followed by Indonesia who showed a lot of promise with their song and dance number.

                Our fourth day was unforgettable. We were herded at the plush The Magellan Sutera Harbor Hotel, a five-star hotel by the sea, for a “black and white” event - The Prime Show. It was a night of surveillance, spying, one would say, to groups who would be strongest competitors come grand finals night. It was also the night when the delegation from China could join us after arriving earlier that day. Information reaching us said that the Chinese group was composed of veteran acrobatic performers that gave us the chill.

                The dinner show was attended by the high ranking officials of the State of Sabah. Prior to the performance, all delegation leaders were gathered in a holding room, with respective tokens at hand, for a formal audience with Tun Datuk Seri Panglima Haji Ahmadshah Bin Abdullah, Governor of Sabah with his wife Toh Puan Datuk Seri Panglima Hajah Dayang Masuyah Binti Awang Japar. It was there that I felt overwhelmed by the formality of the proceedings. We were instructed how to act, behave and address ( Malaysian decorum) the Governor and wife who were respected like monarchs. The couple gifted us with a golden jewel cache with their images impressed on the lid - a priceless gift in exchange for a much lesser priced “slo’ong” which we brought for gift-giving. To all these, Saudi Arabia stood out because of the golden ornate saber that they presented to the Governor.

                The Prime Show became a barometer for identifying who’s who in the international stage. Indonesia, Taiwan, Thailand showed strength but our Maria Clara suite brought the house down, so to speak!

                Fifth day was a Sun, Sea and Sand getaway.  SIFF organizers prepared a barbeque party in Mamutik Island, a tourist destination for diving and snorkeling. It was a fifteen-minute yacht ride to the island from Sutera Harbor.

 Mamutik Island became a mute witness to the growing fondness established between Thailand and The Philippines. An impromptu cultural dance exchange was held in a covered area where South Cotabato taught Thailand Blaan and Maguindanao dances, to which the Thais gladly returned the favor by teaching us their traditional art form. It was through the exchange that we learned that all of them were accepted to the Bunditpatanasilpa Institute or the Institute of Fine Arts Development at age 13. They told us that the initial requirement to become an intern of the institute supervised by their Ministry of Culture, is to have your finger bones broken and bent outwards - a painful way to become a highly revered dancer. We saw how fluid their fingers were that bending it now outwards  is effortless. The exchange proved to be an unforgettable learning experience that had brought the two delegations closer and the friendship would continue through Facebook and Twitter, with language interpretation included.

               

                That night, we were scheduled for rehearsals at 10pm following the Egyptian and Latvian delegations in an airconditioned room assigned for rehearsals. The Latvians had just vacated the room when we came in and we had to back track because of an annoying smell they left in the room. We have to put off the aircon and open the doors wide to accommodate fresh air and let the fetid one escape the room, our nostrils, and dizzy spirits!

                We were brought to Sabah Cultural Center in Penampang, the venue of the competition for rehearsals the very next day. It was the Preliminary night where each delegation was required to present a seven-minute production.  The Philippines presented “Flalok ni Soyow Kakdo Blaan” an ethnic suite from the province which I researched and choreographed for the competition that tells of a tragic story of a Blaan maiden betrothed to a datu’s son but loves a slave instead. The performance moved the audience that we received the loudest cheers and applause and yes, a standing ovation! After the performance, Romania, Thailand, China, Indonesia, Singapore and Latvia approached us for a sincere congratulations - however, the house was divided as some favored the Taiwanese with their strong performance using “Kung Fu” with bowls balanced on their heads, complete with a glittering dragon. It was a competition of skills and theatricals against drama and grace. The winners would be known the very next night but the preliminary night was a trending of some sort. We received very good reviews, however, it was not a moment to rest our minds - we had to prepare for other surprises that would unfold on stage during performances - in short, we were becoming nervously apprehensive, too.

                The next day, another blocking on stage was required so we were transported to  Penampang at 9:00am. Having done our part, we requested the organizers to send us to any Catholic Church in KK, that day being a Sunday, and as Filipinos, our spiritual obligations must be practiced wherever we are.

                Grand finals night came. We presented the rural suite “Kasadyahan sa Kapatagan”  (Joys in the Plains), a five-minute medley of the best loved Philippine folkdances, earning for us another raved reception. The competition was higher that delegations prepared surprises and judges had a very hard time picking the best team. As for us, we gave way to our passion to show our best, enjoying the stage in total abandon, showing the world how we, Filipinos, love music and dance, celebrating our culture the way we were raised in the countryside. Our efforts earned us the “Best Performace Award” that sealed our edge over other national groups and affirmed our own place among the globally competitive dance groups as “world class.”  Our euphoria never ceased - we were sleepless that night.

                The next morning, SIFF’s last day, we were all treated to a tour of Kota Kinabalu. We were brought to Muzium Sabah for a two-hour cultural immersion cum education on a state which was a subject  of a long history of territorrial claim by the Philippines. Funny but true, on one wall, there was a picture of a civic protest with Sabah natives bearing placards that said something nasty about the US and the Philippine Presidents who were involved in the Sabah claim. One was called a “yankee”, the other, a “monkey”. The monkey referred to the father of a beleaguered present-day Philippine president. The picture elicited a good laugh from us.

               

                It was a blessing that some delegations did not afford so much attention to that particular wall, or else, we could not endure the embarrassment accorded to us by history.

                Our next stop was Lok Kawi Wildlife Park where we would have our last lunch at Kota Kinabalu. We toured the park and saw Sabah’s endemic wildlife  - exotic birds and fowls, golden monkeys and the Malaysian pygmy elephants. We were also treated with a bird show.

                Tokens and souvenirs exchanged hands after our final lunch with the delegates and the organizers. We were able to collect some significant mementoes of a journey we could not forget in our lifetime.

                The festival was indeed a rare chance where South Cotabato artists could learn a lot from their foreign counterparts. Discipline, passion, dedication, fun,… name it! Our international exposure was an education worth a lifetime!

                But one thing certain, we have learned that the Thais were as sentimental as we are. They were the group that saw us off as we boarded the bus to the airport. They were in tears as we waved goodbye through the glass window, their gifts of remembrance in our hands. Very Filipino, err, very Asian! It had been, indeed, the best ten days of our lives.  Asked  if  the SIFF’s   aim of   “peace through culture” was  ever achieved, I would say, YES, and even more!