Cinema Rehiyon 7 Film Festival Cebu, August 6-9, For more info, visit www.cinemarehiyon.com

The Zombies are Coming this Halloween Day!

The Zombies are Coming this Halloween Day!

ANG DAMGO NI ELEUTERIA KIRSCHBAUM (The Dream of Eleuteria Kirschbaum)

EXCERPT

FADE IN:

INT.BEDROOM (GERMANY). NIGHT

The room is dark and gloomy. There is only a flicker of light from the television set.

The bed is empty and undisturbed. We slowly scan through the room with its European fixtures.

We hear the talk show host speaking in German.

We see Eleuteria or Terya (19 years old), she is sitting in front of the mirror.

We hear her voice clearly while the sound from the television set becomes softer.

TERYA

(TERYA’s voice, she talks tentatively and slowly)

V.O

One year has already passed

but it seems like only

yesterday.

CLOSE ON TERYA

(she talks to the camera)

My name is Eleuteria Duhaylungsod. I am still not used to it but my

last name now is Kirschbaum.

My story started in Olango

Island, Mactan, Cebu.

CUT TO

INT. VIDEOKE STORE. NIGHT

Terya, 18 years old, is singing “The Impossible Dream” inside Cacay’s Videoke place. It is a makeshift nipa hut with a couple of tables spread around. She is out of tune.

The videoke is turned to full volume.

There are some people inside. Everybody seems to be having a good time.

TERYA

Singing

To dream the impossible

dream. To fight the

unbeatable foe. To bear the

unbeatable sorrow.

This is my quest to follow

the star no matter how

hopeless, no matter how far…

CACAY

A shrewd store owner, around 45 years old, clapping her hands

Dream on, Terya

Terya continues singing, ignoring Cacay.

Everybody clap their hands when she finishes singing.

Outside, people are sitting around on the bamboo benches. They share a glass of rice wine that is passed from one person to the next in the Cebuano tradition of “tagay”.

Terya's father gives out the drinks. He is humming his favorite Cebuano love song “Matud Nila”.

The men are getting drunk. They are getting unruly.

We can see motorbikes outside the store and porters dividing the day’s income. The mood is festive.

BEGIN TITLES

EXT. PUMPBOAT.DAY

WE see Terya, and Ricky, also 18 years old,(he is Terya’s effeminate friend and classmate) sitting on the pump boat (small Philippine inter-island outrigger boats) that is full of people and cargoes.

Notwithstanding, the two are talking animatedly to each other. The conversation is inaudible.

The boat nears Olango Island and the camera takes in the beautiful scenery of the island as the boat approaches and docks.

The boatman throws a rope to a waiting man in the pier and throws the anchor into the sea.

The makeshift wooden bridge is laid down so that the passengers can disembark.

Porters compete with each other to come to the boat for the cargoes while the passengers scramble to form a line, ready to disembark.

Nesto, 23 years old, a tricycle driver parks in the pier in front of the pump boat

PIER IN OLANGO ISLAND. EXT. DAY

We capture the hustle and bustle of the pier. Passengers take the tricycles and ‘Habal-habals’ (motorcycles) parked nearby and drivers offer a ride.

The dispatchers are shouting directions to the tricycle drivers and the passengers.

CUT TO

Terya and Ricky standing in front of Nesto’s tricycle.

NESTO

Ride with me, the two of you. I will not ask for a fee.

Painting ' A Thousand and One Hearts" is also by the author

LIGAYA

There are many customers inside the Love Me Disco tonight. Near the bar, there are no more seats available. The women of the night are sitting like an array of flowers carefully displayed for sale in a flower shop. They are surrounded by a handful of foreigners who are hungry for love. The place smells like lust. It is dark and loud inside. Near one of the corner tables, Ligaya sits snugly beside a girlfriend.



“Hey! Is that Tim who just came inside? He is my boyfriend since last year. So he is back again! “exclaims the suddenly alive Ligaya to her friend Marilou.



“You are talking nonsense, retorts Marilou. That guy is Jo Ann’s boyfriend. I know for a fact that he sends her money from time to time”.



But Ligaya does not hear Marilou’s answer anymore because she stands up abruptly. She rushes towards the American who just arrived at the disco house.



Tim! When did you arrive? Come her, come to me!.



Ligaya shouts and she almost fell over the dance floor because she is wearing a 4” high-heel shoes.



“ Hey Babe! How are you Babe? The foreigner answers her.



Tim gropes like a blind man in the dark disco. He goes in the direction of the corner table where the two women are sitting. Ligaya is ecstatic that Tim arrived. The night is still young but she already caught a man.



It is still low season and business is painfully slow. In fact in the last few nights, Ligaya feels like a hopeless fisherman trying to catch fish in the vast and empty ocean. Her hopes are really dashed because she knows that the other girls inside the Love Me Disco are glancing covertly at her.



At the age of 25, Ligaya is already considered old compared to the other girls plying their trade in the disco house. Every year, there are a number of young and fresh faced girls offering stiff competition.



Seven years have swiftly passed since Ligaya left Bayugan, Agusan del Sur, to try her luck in the big city. And she finds herself in the bustling city of Cebu. Because she only finished elementary school, she had problems looking for a decent job. In the beginning, she felt very uncomfortable selling her body but after a year, she got used to it. Money is very easy in this job. And now, even if she can get a respectable job as a sales girl or waitress, she will not even take a second look at it.



Anyway, the salary is always so cheap and the work is hard there. Now that she works as a free lancer and there is no more pimp or casa* with whom she used to share her income, she earns quite well. If only she has no vices, Ligaya could have saved some money already and perhaps even send some home to help her parents. In awhile, the sound system blares, playing a song loudly.



“ Like a Virgin! Touched for the very first time”



Ligaya grabs Tim and brings him to the center of the dance floor. Ligaya dances gracefully. She has done this many times before. She
worked as a bikini dancer for a number of years at the Silver Dollar Bar. The Silver Dollar is a popular bikini bar patronized by foreigners and tourists in the city. She knows exactly how to sway her hips and flay her arms and fingers. Especially tonight with Tim’s presence, she is excited and inspired. She gives her all while dancing wildly, amidst the rain of neon lights that seems to bathe her.



The other girls stare at her enviously. Marissa, who is sitting with Tessa at one of the sofas that is scattered around the place smirks. She turns her curios eyes away from the dance floor and laughs loudly.



“Look at that old Ligaya enjoying herself and showing off her shriveled boobs”, she whispers to Tessa.



“What?, Tessa shouts above the ruckus of the loud disco music.



“I said, Look at that old Ligaya showing off her shriveled boobs!” Marissa shouts at the top of her lungs.



The other girls who heard her start giggling and they look at each other with knowing glances. Marissa, at 18, is the youngest and currently the most popular girl hanging out at the Love Me Disco. She behaves like the queen of the place. All the desirable foreigners usually pick her, out of the 30 or so women available. This is because of her youthful good looks and morena complexion. Tonight, Marissa is on the prowl. Her latest customer just left for Germany so she is free again.



Straight from a trip to the hot springs of Camiguin, where Marissa spent a week with Georg, her pockets are filled with pesos. There is no urgent need to work now because the German left her 200 Euros and promised to send her a monthly stipend. At the age of 65, Georg fell head over heels in love with the teen-ager. He renovated the house of Marissa’s parents near the stinky Pasil Market.



This is because he bought her a four poster bed as a birthday gift but when the delivery man from SM Department Store came, it can not pass through the door. The bed was too large and it can not go through the flimsy door. In fact, they have to destroy it and place the four poster bed in the living room. It is certainly too big for the bedroom that is shared by everyone in the family.



Realizing this, Georg decided to renovate the whole house. He paid for a new door and also have the leaking roof and the holes in the walls fixed. Now, the beautiful four poster bed occupies one third of the living room in Marissa’s house. Its intricate posts are removed and are now used to support the kitchen sink that is also dilapidated.



He also bought Marissa a collection of Barbie dolls at the Duty Free Shop. One time, while shopping at the store together, she asked him to buy one for her but Georg thought that Marissa must have wished for this doll since she was a child. Out of pity for her under privileged childhood, he tried to make it up to her and bought all the different Barbie models available at the Duty Free Shop. He has repeatedly requested the girl to stop working at the Love Me Disco but Marissa vehemently refused. There is something about all the admiring and lustful glances that makes her happy and fulfilled. The promise from Georg to send her to school and to buy a house for her family fell on deaf ears. After all, it is only a promise and nobody knows if it will be fulfilled. Besides, Marissa is not in love with Georg and thinks of him only as a very generous and passing customer.



Tonight, Marissa feels threatened. She does not like it that Ligaya gets a customer while she is not yet taken. She looks around the disco house and makes a mental note of the foreigners loitering around.



“This is going to be an exciting night”, Marissa confides to Tessa.



“What do you mean? Except for that American who just came in, all these foreigners here are regulars who are stingy and also married.”



“ Sus! That guy Tim, who just came in? He pursued me last year like crazy but I didn’t like him so I donated him to Jo Ann just so he will stop pestering me”, gloats Marissa.



“Hahaha! It could be an interesting night if Jo Ann arrives, you know how she is, all her customers are automatically her boyfriends. She is even worst than the wives”



“That’s the way it should be. Especially if the wives are foreigners, I don’t mind hooking up with foreigners. I only feel guilty when they are married to Filipinas but then again, I really don’t care. However, if other girls here in the disco flirts with my men? That is absolutely not allowed! ” Marissa tells Tessa.



“ Look at that Ligaya dancing there. She must be high already”, Hey! Did you give contribution to the pot money for our stuff?”, Tessa exclaims while showing Marissa a packet of shabu surreptitiously.



“ Of course I did. I took mine already. I know that some girls here are not contributing but they still take their share.” I will complain to that Jo Ann, after all, she is the one collecting the money from us”



Marissa settles on her chair. She takes out a brand new cellular phone from her bag and started typing.



“ Your boyfriend is here. Come immediately or else he will be taken by the others”



Pressing the send button, the young woman smiles. She looks at Ligaya and Tim enjoying themselves at the dance floor. Marissa is a relative newcomer in the so called oldest profession of the world. Tessa, her neighbor brought her to the Love me Disco a year ago. Immediately, she caught the attention of the foreigners. She has always envied Tessa who tell her stories of trips to the beautiful islands of Malapascua, Bohol and Camiguin, among others. She can not wait to grow up and be just like Tessa who is not really getting rich but always managed to have money for the things she desires like dresses and cellular phones.



After a year at the Love me Disco, Marissa grew up very fast. She knows that losing her face in front of the other girls tonight is not only embarrassing but is also a threat to her reputation as the hottest girl at the disco. She is very protective of her position and will do all she can to keep it.



“It is good that I am wearing my sexy white blouse tonight” Ligaya amusedly thinks to herself.



Aside from glowing in the dark, the sexy white blouse also fits Ligaya to a T. Her breasts peep out seductively and she feels young and sexy.



“This blouse is a present from Nico when he brought me to Boracay six months ago. Golly, where the devil is Nico now? Where will Tim bring me this time? I have to make money tonight. Pedong, is waiting for me in our rented room.” Ligaya continues musing.



Just like her, Pedong also comes from Mindanao, but they met here in Cebu City. He is unable to find a decent job because he even does not have an elementary education. It seems like he has lost the desire to lead a normal life already and is doing any shady odd jobs that he can find. Pedong is also very lazy and is always fired from the construction jobs that he manage to find sometimes.



“ I wonder if that good for nothing guy has eaten already? He will beat me up again when I come home tonight bringing no money or even just some food. I don’t know why but even if he does these things to me, I still can not muster the guts to leave him. Is this real love? A Pinoy lover is really a special breed. Ligaya thinks to herself while swaying her hips.



“You are a sexy dancer, Babe”



The American whispers to her ears and his words are drowned by the noise of the sound system at the disco house. Ligaya does not bother to ask anymore what Tim is saying and she embraces the whole dance floor cooing the song.



“I’m a viiiiiirgin, and my heart beats.”



After the pair finished their show, they found their way back to their seats. Tim is filled with lust and sweat. He stands up to go to the toilet. Ligaya leans happily in her chair, crossing her legs, that are unable to stop dancing together with the booming bass of the music. In a flash, Jo Ann comes to her.



“You whore! Why are you taking my boyfriend away from me? You have no manners. And to think that we are both Filipinas. Did you sniff shabu* tonight? Where is that Tim?” Jo Ann challenges Ligaya.



Ligaya’s dandruff jumps off her hair since she did not expect something like this to destroy her night.



“What do you mean Tim is your boyfriend? I am seeing Tim since a year. You are talking absolutely nonsense!” Ligaya answers Jo Ann.



At this point, Jo Ann lost her self control completely and she grabs the bottle of Red Horse on the table. She throws the bottle at her nemesis. It is good that Ligaya is able to quickly dock her head. The bottle breaks into small pieces at the dirty floor that is made of concrete. Ligaya’s temper also exploded and she pulls at Jo Ann’s long and flowing hair.



The disco house is now thrown in disarray. The two women engage in intense hair pulling and scratching. It is good that Ligaya’s hair is short so that Jo Ann has problems pulling at her curls. Nobody in the disco house intervenes to stop the women from fighting. The security guard, sleeping soundly at his station near the entrance, finally wakes up and separates the two Amazons.



Tim, the person that the two women are fighting about, seems to disappear together with the water that is used to flush the toilet. Quicker than a lightning, he disappears from the scene. Calming down, Ligaya searches for Tim’s face among the crowd that ogles at them. When she notices that Tim is nowhere to be found, she also leaves in a hurry. She hails the taxi that is parked by the road outside.



“Hey! Where are you going you bitch?”, Jo Ann’s shrieking voice follows Ligaya outside the disco.



Ligaya ignores Jo Ann and goes inside the taxi.



“Noy*, have you seen an American who just left the disco?” she asks the bored looking driver.



“No, Day*, I just arrived now. His wife must have picked him up already. Where do you want me to take you?” the driver replies.



“Just take me to Camputhaw”, Ligaya makes herself comfortable at the back seat of the taxi.



At Gorordo Avenue, near the corner that turns to barangay* Camputhaw, Ligaya disembarks. She is lucky that the taxi driver accepted her money without complaining, since it was not enough to pay the amount registered on the taxi meter. The driver just nods at her knowingly.



“Still low season huh? When the high season comes, don’t forget to give me a tip” the driver tells Ligaya.



In the quiet of the street, Ligaya stands up near the lamp post to examine her arms scratched by Jo Ann. And like a giant fire fly in the forest, the light from the lamp post hovers above her and flickers on and off.




It is only at this time that Ligaya feels the pain in her body. The long and bloody scratch on her arm starts to throb. Her sexy blouse does not glow anymore. It is already stained by her red blood and covered by the dust that decorated the disco house. Her head feels very heavy. It feels as though each strand of Ligaya’s hair is about to fall off but she tries not to mind the pain.



“It’s fine if I am unlucky tonight, Ligaya soothes herself. When high season comes next month, I am sure Uwe, Peter and Ulli will arrive. And what is the name of that
Austrian whose arm pits smelt so bad? For sure I can buy shabu for Pedong by then and can provide him with all what he needs.”




“Sus! I hope they will not arrive at the same time so that I can go out with each of them.” Ligaya continues thinking to herself while she follows the muddy path.



At this instance, heavy rain starts to fall. Ligaya runs to Pedong who is waiting for her at their crampy, rented room. To think that It has already been four months and they haven’t paid the rent yet.



-end-



*casa – Filipino slang for a house where prostitutes are illegally kept and displayed to customers.



*shabu – A kind of amphethamine. In the mid-80s, methamphetamine was introduced into the fringe circle of use in the Philippines. In less than two decades, it has broken out of the urban subcultures and gained access into the urban and rural communities with devastating impact.



*Noy – Short for Manoy, term used to address older male Filipinos



*Day – Short for Inday, term used to address younger female Filipinos



*Barangay – Barrio, the second smallest unit in a Philippine locality



by Maria Victoria Beltran



Painting " Ligaya" is by the author as well
Translated from Cebuano to English

Manunulat ko?

Tinuod
mosulat ko
kabahin kanako.

Kay si kinsa man diay
ang lain nakong nailhan
sa tunhay?

Asa pa man ko
moani og humay
mopunit sa mumho?

Unsay lain
nga makit-an sa lumoy
kong kasingkasing

Ug niining gitay-an
kong atay?
Kinsa may nagpuyo

Dinhi ning kahiladman
sulod niining kapin
sa kwarenta ka tuig?

Ug kon ugaling
makasulat ko kabahin
sa uban--sa politiko,

pananglitan-- ug makahibalo
sa uban pang mga matang
sa kinaiyahan

tungod kana
sa tanan nakong nabasahan
ug sa akong pagpasiyo sulod
sa inyong mga museo.

The Dream of Eleuteria Kirschbaum

A year has already passed but it seems like only yesterday.

I am Eleuteria Duhaylungsod. I haven’t gotten used to it but, actually, my name is now Eleuteria Kirschbaum. My story began in Barangay Guindulman in Bohol. And continued at the Mactan International Airport.

When the plane I took landed in Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia, my heart nearly exploded from fear. For in my whole life I had never flown in a plane. Just that time.

It’s fortunate that we only stayed for twenty minutes in Kota Kinabalu so there was no need to leave my seat. Pastilan! I could not even unfasten my seatbelt right. I was almost terrified the moment the plane was about to take off. For neither do I, had the faintest idea how to fasten my seatbelt. Good that the American next to me helped. I was so embarrassed when he had to teach me how to fasten and unfasten the belt that is made of iron.What would I do if Hans failed to fetch me at the airport in Germany? I could only repeat pastilan.

Hans is the German guy I was about to marry. I was only joking with my cousin Merle when she came home to Guindulman, after three years of marriage to her penpal.

“Just give me a foreigner whom I can also marry so I can have a child like yours, very handsome!” I teased Merle.“

“OK, I’ll find you a husband so that I‘ll have a relative I can easily call on in Germany,” Merle said.

I didn’t expect it to come true. But when I received a letter from Hans, my dream, I must admit, also blossomed. The picture he sent me with his letter, I treasured it dearly. And after six months of writing each other, he asked me to work on my visa. I don’t know how many times I went back and forth to Cebu for my passport. How hard it was! What with my birth certificate that could no longer be found at the municipal hall? Was it eaten bit by bit by mice or termites perhaps? And when I finally got my passport, the fiancée visa was my next problem. The interview at the German embassy in Manila was definitely not easy. It was a good thing that someone from the travel agency preparing my documents went with me.

And Hans is perhaps marked on my palm. For, surprisingly, my visa was approved. I could perhaps almost reach my dream; to also help my parents and siblings who wallow in the bitterness of poverty in the Philippines. How wonderful it would have been if my brothers and sisters could finish college. And Nanay and Tatay, too, could finally live in a house with a roof that does not leak. Like the new house of Merle’s parents. Then they could also at least eat meat everyday.

"Fasten your seatbelts, please,” said the pretty stewardess walking back and forth in the plane.

This time, I was less afraid because I already understood her. In a short while, the same stewardess came back.

“Would you like fish in curry sauce and rice or beef rouladen with mashed potatoes Ma’am?”

“Fish, Ma’am” was my quick reply for I was not familiar with all the things she’s saying.

” How about wine, juice, coffee, or tea?

“Cokes, Ma’am” I replied.

Good that she didn’t ask anything else, for the curious American beside me was actually listening to us. After eating, I checked if the round sticker on my blue blouse was still there. Because when I checked-in at the airport in the city of Lapulapu, the woman pinned it on me in the counter.

“Just wait for the instructions of the stewardess so you won’t miss your connecting flight” the woman said.

Honestly, I was really scared of being stranded in a strange place. Hesus, Maria, kalawaton . . . what would I do then? I asked myself.

Before long, we arrived in Kuala Lumpur. The stewardess approached me and said, “Please stay in your seat until I come back for you” while looking at the sticker on my blouse. That was the reason why I stayed in the plane until almost no more passengers were left. There were only three of us in the plane and we were all Filipinas, all first-timers in flying. And all, standing in a foreign country too.

Vangie and Nerissa were also heading to Frankfurt, Germany. Like me, they were also hoping to better the life by marrying a foreigner. I was so happy that I finally have company. And the throbbing in my heart quieted down a little.

Like obedient lambs, the stewardess led us to gate 47 where the plane that would fly us to Germany would be taking off. We stayed for six hours in Kuala Lumpur. So we got the chance to know each other.

"My would-be husband, Peter, is 60 years old and I will be 22, in the following year, but it’s important to be practical nowadays,” Vangie said.

"There are 10 years between me and Markus but we really fell in love, though only through email and the phone,” Nerissa in turn said.

I did not join in that discussion because, honestly, love is actually not the reason for my marrying Hans. I was just really fed up with the hardship in the Philippines. Hans would be my savior from a life that has nowhere to go but poverty. Tatay has no real job and is a drunkard, too. Nanay is addicted to masiao and is always getting pregnant.

There are already twelve of us and I am the eldest. I am a graduate of the Guindulman Public High School and at 23 I have to help my family. I have really no plans of getting married to Kardo, a farmer or to Nestong, the tricycle driver. For I’m sure my life would never get better with either of them. Better not, please. Hopefully, I would be lucky with Hans!

The flight from Kuala Lumpur to Frankfurt took about eight hours. And the fear in my chest is constantly pounding. Not from fear of getting lost anymore but from the madness of this very new life that I am facing. The man I was about to marry, is a stranger. We hadn’t even met in person.

Sus! If only I can jump off the plane and fly back to the Philippines. But Nanay and Tatay had high hopes for me. They even bragged to our nosey neighbors that soon, I would be able to buy them a karaoke. It was perhaps this that gave me the courage to face this never-ending fear in my being.

It was exactly 7:45 in the morning when I arrived in Frankfurt. I did not have enough sleep for my mind was restless. Neither could I turn on the small television set in front of me. So, thoughts kept on whirling in my mind. Also, I had no one to talk to. Vangie and Nerissa were far away from where I was seated. And the guy next to me ignored me. How numb it felt, my sleeping legs.

Like what happened in Kuala Lumpur, the stewardess dragged us again. She brought us to the window of the immigration officer and instructed us how to pick up our suitcases. My nervous knees could no longer bear it. They were shaking harder when it was my turn at the window.

“Passport please. How long are you staying in Germany? Where are you going to stay?”

A gunfire of questions came from the police officer who showed at the window. There were probably no errors in the form I filled up in the plane. After I stammered my answers to his questions, he gave me back my passport. Like a criminal, I quickly turned away from him

“It would be nice if our places here are near, “ Vangie said “so we can still meet up”.“

“Right” Nerissa agreed while I could only nod, as we waited for our suitcases. And I took out Hans’ picture from my wallet- “I hope he is waiting for me.”

How big the airport in Frankfurt is! The surrounding was very clean. Even the wind that touched my face was also quite fresh. And though there were a lot of people, the place was unusually quiet. It had a foreign smell too. Like the scent of the bag Merle gave me when she visited us in Guindulman the year before.

In a short while, I saw someone beckoning at me. And that was the first time I saw my fiancé. Hans is, in fact, very fat. He did not send me a full-body picture of himself in the Philippines. But like a bird in a cage, I still married him.

He also can’t speak English well. And he doesn’t have a regular job. We are lucky to be staying in his mother’s house. So we don’t have to pay for rent, electricity or food. But what he gets as welfare compensation from their government is just enough to spend for his vices. Every day he consumes no less than five packs of cigarettes and ten bottles of Bitburger beer. And oftentimes he rides around with his friends on their big motorbikes. To think that gasoline is so expensive here. If one computes it in Philippine pesos, it would run to 200 pesos plus per liter.

The house where I live in Hundsangen is made of concrete. It is like a rich man’s house in Guindulman. What I eat is delicious, too. Compared to the camote tops and corn which Nanay usually prepares at home. Sometimes, I choke on the brötchen and bratwurst when I remember the emptiness of the table of my brothers and sisters at home. We also have our own car to drive through the wide autobahns for visits to Merle and her strict husband. So, I shouldn’t be feeling sad here.

But why is my heart very heavy? Perhaps because until now, I still don’t feel love for Hans. Or maybe it’s because of this giant loneliness that I feel everyday. How wonderful to recall my dream; the sea of Guindulman; barefoot while bathing under the grace of the heat of the sun and salty air. I also long for boiled green bananas dipped in ginamos-tugnos that we used to take with us to the beach on Sundays.

Possibly I’m just fed up for it is as though I am the only person staying in the house. I can’t talk with Hans’ mother since she can’t speak English. I avoid her instead. I don’t know why, that with all the houses and cars in this place, it is still very quiet around me. Sometimes, It seems like I’m the only living person in the whole world.

Or perhaps, it stems from the reason that until now, I still can’t speak fluent German. I can’t really talk seriously to anyone. I wonder how Vangie and Nerissa are doing now? We didn’t exchange telephone numbers since the three of us were all the same. We were all ignorant. It is also very expensive if I always use the phone here. Every time we talk over the phone, it is like taking a taxi. The meter ticks so fast.

Or perhaps the reason for this rattling in my chest is that a year has already passed and I still haven’t bought a karaoke set for my Nanay and Tatay.

MARIA VICTORIA BELTRAN

Originally in Cebuano, Ang Damgo Ni Eleuteria Kirschbaum
Translated by Jad Conde
Edited by Cora Almerino

WHEN THE MUSE TURNED AWAY

The flow of the river ceases
the wave stops in the middle of the sea
the falling leaf freezes in mid-air
the eagle's song is silent.

While my finger
that is on my laptop waiting
for my command, stops to think.

We are all wishing
for the visit of the fickle
muse of emptiness.

I lift my heart
so that I can hear the bell
I close my eyes
So I can see the glory
I offer gold
together with a prayer.

But there is nothing I can write
Only a poem
that sheds tears.


*Poem is translated from Cebuano " SA DIHANG NANGLUOD ANG MUSA"
Picture is from Pagbalik/Homecoming movie stills

AGAINST THE SMART CRAB

When dusk slowly creeps
you stop moping about

then you put on the crown
that you stole from the whale

and when the boastful
and noisy thunder sleeps

you dig on my sand
and collect shells from the sea

and when i climb the tree
of the ghost free coconut

you pull on my skirt
to lay bare my butt

watch out with your bite
you, smart crab

for later I will boil you
and I will suck your spirit too.

Poem is translated from Cebuano " BATOK SA BANGIITANG KASAG"

MARIA, THE MANANANGGAL

My name is Maria
and I am a manananggal
My father is a kapri
king of Mount Diwalwal
Each night I go to the disco
with my friend, the white lady
I like to go shopping
with the clogs-wearing-swine
And together, we dive in the ukay-ukay.

There is something I want to tell you
About my suitor, Leo Santilmo
Who turns red, orange and blue
when I don't tell him
where I hide myself.

While I listen to the story
and fly through the sky
with my Nanny.

MARIA VICTORIA BELTRAN

*
Manananggal- Philippine witch, she can divide her body into two; the upper half has wings while the lower half is left behind.
Kapri- A giant, hairy man, usually perched on the Balete tree, who is always smoking a tobacco
White lady- a lady in a flowing white gown who prowls at night
Ukay-ukay- old clothes sent to Philippines as donation but ends up in makeshift stalls and are sold very cheap.
Santilmo- a man made of fire, who has a habit of standing in the midle of the road at night.
clogs-wearing swine- anay nga nagbakya, this animal eats children who are still out at night.

YELLOW BAMBOO

Nineteen hundred and eighty six

when you planted the bamboo.

Our learned neighbor said-

it will not grow

that little branch,

it does not fit here

it will come to naught

since our soil is sand

and our water is salty.

The plant will surely die

for in the whole of Olango Island

nobody can make it sprout.

I guess, perhaps-

you were hard headed

or you were in love

with the sway of the bamboo

everytime Amihan blows

and the bird sings.

One night, it was full moon

when you planted

that little branch.

You gave her water

that is not salty, but fresh.

You nurtured her,

you gave everything

to the yellow bamboo

and not long after

The leaves appeared,

the plant prospered

and danced to the tune

of the Habagat

and to the whisper

of this heart

that you left behind.

*Amihan- Northeast Moonsoon
*Habagat- Southwest Moonsoon
Poem is translated from Cebuano "Dalag ang Kawayan"

Early in the Morning

The uneasy butterfly sleepwalks
The sun peeps behind the clouds
The sleeping Jasmine awakes
The hiding root emerges
The Anahaw* leaf dances
The stepping stones do not move
The moss in the garden laughs
The Tamsi* perches on the branch
The wily earthworm comes out
The shy Mimosa* opens up
The cold wind blows
in my face. He stirs
this soul that just
a couple of hours before,
dreamt of this all.

*Anahaw- Philipinne national leaf.
*Tamsi- a small bird found everywhere in the Philippines.
*Mimosa- plant whose leaf closes when touched by wind or hand.
Poem is translated from Cebuano " Sayo sa Kabuntagon*

IN SEARCH OF THE LAST ROMANTIC

While I read your poem
It suddenly came to me. To think
of the man who went away.


He who gave up the last
seat. He who clung
to the trisikad* just to
give my butt a space.

He who sent the letter
with the sweet tounge. Who plucked
the stars and the flowers of
Kangkong* and offered them to me.

He who did not call me
a whore. Reminisced
why i have become
a vendor of my
abused rice cake.

(Where is he?
because this heart
long stained. This heart needs
a savior against the cruel time.)

*trisikad is a Philippine public vehicle that is a contraption of a bicycle and a side car usually seen in the countryside, carrying 5 or more passengers, literally hanging on it.
*kangkong is a cheap Philippine vegetable with a white flower that does not last long in a flower vase; Philippine water spinach.

The painting "Faces of Maria" is by the author

MY BOOK

He sleeps in the mat
where I wander
through the night

He snores through my ears
while I listen
to his fears

He wakes up slowly
the itch in my brain;
It feels funny

He yawns in my face
tickles the seam
of the embroidered lace

that is dangling
in front of me
swims in my vast sea.

"Picture is my painting on a Philippine woven mat (banig)"

FLOWER WOMAN

Plucked
from the ribs
of Adam
You came to life
inside the node
of the bamboo
Molded
in the midst
of mud that
is made of gold

Maria, Magdalena
and Mary Ann

You grew
out of the mystery
of the seed
in the rain,
you opened
and swayed
with the wind

Hibiscus, Santan
and Jasmine

Beautiful is the maiden
at seventeen
like fireflies
in the month
of December
Behold!
the fire
of the tree
at Fuente-
Woman

Picture is the author's own painting and the poem is a translation from Cebuano "Babayeng Bulak" published in the book "Haling".

STORM IN A POETESS' LIFE

Every second a storm rages on
Here, inside my drawer
Where I keep the words
That spin around my head
Sometimes it's signal number one
And my brain just explodes
When it reaches number two
I puff on my tobacco
At times when it is number three
I shout with the raindrops
Number four, I scamper to my room
Number five, I'm screaming mad
And when it reaches number six
There is danger overhead
I would stop my fountain pen
From inflicting any pain
For I am scared of the raging storm
Of signal number seven-
When words drift with the wind
Through the concrete fence
And the tidal waves
Swallow all the rules
that try to stop
the outpour of my metaphors

*this poem is translated from Cebuano, "Bagyo sa Balaknong Kinabuhi"

WHEN I FINISH HIGHSCHOOL

WHEN I FINISH HIGHSCHOOL

Nanay
is pregnant again
There are now ten
siblings in our brood
Tatay is better
than a magician
He believes in God's call
to go out in the world
and multiply
Maybe the heavens
do not know
that there is no more
space in our barrio-
When the stomach
of our youngest one
turns sour
When the shopkeeper
comes to collect
I run to our neighbour
ashamed of this all
It's Okey-
When I reach highschool
I won't worry anymore
Since my best friend
has been telling me
when we finish highschool
we will stow away
to the big city
work on any job
so that I have something
to send to the forever
angry shopkeeper.

*Sculpture "Sorrow" is by the author and poem is translated from Cebuano "Inig-gradweyt Nako sa Haiskul"

WHEN I LEAVE

Switch off the lamp posts
that line
the laughing lane
of our road.
Switch on the radio
to close the conversation,
drown the cheers
that has long been gone.
Take the bottles
of wine from the table
and rip the tablecloth
that is still there.
Silence the dogs
in our yard
who are still waiting
for my footsteps.
Turn on the last song
and once again, wear the dress
that has seen our bliss.
Look for my words
when the sleeping dust
under our old bed, awakens
Forget the whispers
sprouting from sadness
And pour water
on the creeping fire
because the two of us
are now lost, in the thickets
of our jungle.
Fly away
together with the harvest
of all our nights
And don't forget-
Switch off the lights
of the lamp posts.

*picture is the author's own painting and poem is translated from Cebuano "Sa Akong Paglakaw"

The Veil

When a woman crosses the invisible line of innocence, it does not always mean that she will reach the goal of wisdom. But then perhaps, she does.
Ayesha wakes up before dusk is replaced by the soft glow of sunrise. She stirs, sits on the dormitory bed and heads for the wash room. She cleans herself for Silaat or Muslim prayer. A few minutes later, she comes back to the room she shares with Teresa. She takes out a clean mat from her cabinet and carefully places it on the floor near the window facing the rising sun. Just as carefully, she puts on a white hijab or veil to cover her hair. She takes out her slippers, faces in the direction of Mecca, stands erect, head down, hands at the sides and arranges her feet so that they are evenly spaced.
Allaahu Akbar! Allaahu Akbar…
She starts to intone silently, afraid that her roommate would wake up from her prayers. Teresa knows the ritual by heart. They have been roommates in the dormitory for almost three months now. She has learned to pretend to sleep throughout these prayers not wanting to embarrass Ayesha or disturb her. She watches silently as Ayesha stands in attention and brings her hands to her ears with palms forward and thumbs behind her earlobes. Ayesha is now engrossed in Qiyam- the opening plea. She places her right hand over her left hand at chest level then she drops her hands to her sides. She bends from her waist with her palms on her knees and her back parallel to the ground. She looks at her feet while bending.
Ayesha rises from her bent position and stands with her arms at her sides. Placing her hands on her knees, she slowly lowers herself to a kneeling position. Then she touches the ground with her forehead and nose while placing her palms on the ground taking care that her elbows do not touch the ground. Finally, she bends her toes so that the top of her feet face the Qibla or direction of Mecca.
“Subhaana rabbiyal’ Alaa! Subhaana rabbiyal’ Alaa…
Somehow, the chanting lulls Teresa into another world inhabited by women in chadors, mosques, camels and clusters of dates in an oasis. The two students are freshmen at the University of the Philippines in Diliman, Quezon City. They met at the start of the semester during the orientation for all the freshmen students in Kalayaan Dormitory. They would not have recognized each other again in the sea of faces in the auditorium except for the fact that they found out later that they are roommates. Besides, Ayesha stands out in the crowd because of the veil that she wears to cover her hair.
“Which province do you come from? In Mindanao?” Teresa asks.
“I grew up in Riyadh but my mother is from Cebu and my father is a Tausug from Zamboanga.” Ayesha answers quickly. She must have been asked the same question a number of times.
“How about you?” she continues.
“I come from the northern Mindanao city of Butuan, where they discovered the Balanghai boats” Teresa retorts proudly.
“Do you know that Butuan was ruled by a Tausug prince in the 14th century? My father says this is the reason why there are a lot of similarities between the Tausug and Butuan dialects” Ayesha informs her new friend.
“I can understand Butuanon but I don’t speak it fluently” says Teresa.
“That’s okay, I don’t speak Tausug” Ayesha chides her.
That was the start of an uneasy friendship between the two. There is something in Ayesha that Teresa finds disconcerting. For one thing, she prays five times a day. In addition, she does not eat pork, shrimps and crabs. She always wears loose pants or long skirts and long sleeved tops and she never goes out without a veil on her head. Also, she neither drinks alcohol nor smoke cigarettes. Ayesha is never tempted to stay too long in the dormitory cafeteria to chat with the others. There is an aura of aloofness about her that seems to say yes, we can be friends but not too close, please.
Teresa is not a stranger to the Muslims of Mindanao. They roam around her city selling brass wares, batik and malong. Some have stalls in the market where they also offer exquisite South sea pearls. As a child, her yaya used to scare her that a Muslim warrior in a vinta boat will snatch her away from her family if she does not behave like a good girl. She is always warned by family and friends to be careful with the Muslim people. Her mother tells her they can not be trusted in business and that sometimes their men run amok brandishing the Kris, their favorite weapon. Their women stay in their houses or mind their stores in their signature malongs, veils and beautiful jewelries. These people largely stay among themselves. Teresa wonders where they have been hiding their children. Thinking about it now, she does not have a classmate in school back home who is a Muslim. Ayesha is the first Muslim girl she comes very close to.
As Salaamu ‘alaikum wa rahmatulaah…
The chanting stops. Ayesha pauses for a moment as if gazing at the minaret of a mosque in Riyadh outside her window. She looks at Teresa who smiles at her.
“Did I wake you up?” Ayesha asks her.
“Yes, but its fine. We have no class in English today; we are going to a film showing, instead”. Teresa reminds her.
“Yes, I remember and this coming weekend, we will go to Matabungkay beach”.
“So, Ayesha, everybody is curios if you will still be wearing your veil when you go swimming”.
“I know, I will bring my Muslim swimming clothes so that they can watch me”.
“I always wonder how your Mom takes it, living in Riyadh. You told me she is Christian?”
“But she has converted to Muslim a long time ago. My Mom is a better Muslim than my Dad now” Ayesha laughs.
“That is strange; I always thought that women are treated as the weaker sex in your religion. Your Mom swallows that?”
“It is not true, Teresa. There are a lot of misconceptions about our religion. In fact, we believe that women have a very special place in our society.”
“Sorry for all my questions, it is not my intention to question your beliefs.”
“I guess you are just as curios as everybody else what I will be wearing in Matabungkay beach” Ayesha says cheerfully, without sarcasm.
The two girls start giggling. They are both enrolled in the Bachelor of Science in Biology course in UP Diliman. It is a block section which means that they have exactly the same schedule. It has become a habit to wait for each other when they go to school and back to the dormitory again. Conveniently, they go to the cafeteria together for their meals and to the study room when they prepare for their examinations. They have also gone to the shopping center in the campus and to some eatery in Area 1 and 2 on their free time a couple of times. The arrangement suits both girls.
“Hurry up, everyone. You can board the bus now.”
The house mother walks around like a hen exhorting her wayward chicks inside the pen. Ayesha’s hijab glares under the morning light. Beside her is Teresa clad in blue jeans and a baby shirt. Her belly ring peeps out of her navel. The students are in a festive mood. They line up to board the bus that will take them through the tree lined streets of the campus to the audiovisual room in the College and Arts building.
“You don’t feel hot in those clothes and veil?” Teresa asks.
“I am so used to these clothes; it feels like second skin already. Perhaps I would feel naked without my hijab. In Riyadh, we wear chadors but that would look really weird here” says Ayesha.
“Don’t you ever feel like wearing clothes like mine?”
“I don’t know it does not cross my mind. This is me. I happen to be a Muslim woman and as such I wear clothes that don't reveal anything except my hands and my face.”
“You are not uncomfortable that you look different from everybody else? Somehow I feel lucky that I can wear a veil and take it away anytime when I want to!”
“No, Teresa. I don’t feel uncomfortable. It just never ceases to amaze me. As much as people preach the importance of accepting differences, they still stare when I walk through the door. It's the same old reaction every time.”
The bus slows down in front of the College and Arts building and like children going to an excursion, everybody scramble to go out of the bus. The two girls silently join the queue. Ayesha comes out of the bus first. She waits warily for Teresa. She sees Fernando in the entrance of the corridor, talking to the other students, who always gather around him before and after class. They exchange the usual smile of salutation. In his smile, she saw her smile, his lips invisibly pressed to her cheeks. Ayesha immediately blushes. She feels a touch on her sleeve and turns to find Teresa beside her.
“I can see that you and Fernando have already met” Teresa whispers to her.
“Of course, he is in our block section.”
“And he is my charming town mate.”
“Come, let’s go to the audiovisual room, I don’t want to miss the film showing” Ayesha grips Teresa’s hand.
Ayesha left Manila at the age of three. Her father works as a computer programmer in a Riyadh company. He brought his family to the Middle East and they have lived there ever since except for the annual holidays to the Philippines. The children go to International School in Riyadh. Ayesha is also not a stranger to the Christian way of life. Among her classmates are children of expatriates coming from all over the world. Back home, it is unthinkable to feel any admiration for the opposite sex. The Riyadh air does not seem to encourage this. Manila gives her the urge to socialize. It does not matter if he is a Muslim or Christian, Ayesha reassures herself.
On the way to the audiovisual room, there is a whiff of anxiety in the air. Something is up, Ayesha tells herself. She can feel that the students are staring at her veil more than usual. She sees fire spreading throughout the campus and it is threatening to engulf her. The two enters the dark audiovisual room.
“Class, please calm down but something is happening in New York and we are suspending the film showing for now” Miss Fabular, their English teacher says. “Instead, we will watch the CNN report”. “Please take your seats.”
The small television set that is hastily placed in the middle of the room comes alive with a picture of an airplane crashing into a building interspersed with the grim faces of the reporters narrating the attack. And right before their very eyes unfolds the second plane that crashes into the neighboring skyscraper. The crowd gasps. Ayesha closes her eyes.
In the next few days, the horrible events in New York have become the subject of discussions and speculations in the campus and everywhere else. Osama bin Laden and Al Qaeda are thrust into infamy. Everyday, the horrors of September 11 are shown on TV and written about in the newspapers. Muslims begin to suffer from public perception.
“You should stop wearing your veil, some people are really uncomfortable with it” Fernando tells Ayesha.
“I am not a terrorist!”
“We are just trying to help you” says Teresa.
The three classmates sit on a bench in the sunken garden. They come from the library where a group of students heckled at them when they pass by. It is not an isolated incident. Sometimes, people just stare at Ayesha with accusations in their eyes and gestures. The incident that happened thousands of miles away is anguishing the young student.
“Veiling goes beyond religion for me. No matter how my faith fluctuates, veiling is something I just don't compromise. There wouldn't be any sense in wearing it one day and throwing it away the next day. When I walk around without my hijab, I always feel bare” Ayesha explains to her friends.
Teresa and Fernando look at each other. There seem to be no way their friend will listen to them. They just hope that things will settle down in the next days.
“Let us walk back to the library, we still have to finish our research” Fernando tries to change the subject.
They stand up silently and when they come close to the student hecklers, Ayesha slowly takes off her hijab. She uncovers her neck and then her hair. She folds the veil ceremoniously and places it in her bag.
Her long, black hair catches the red glow of sunset.