Agam, an early Tagalog word for foreboding and memory, is also the title of a book to be released on June 24 by the same pioneering group that launched the ejeepney revolution in 2007. The literary book brings together new work from Filipino writers across diverse disciplines, focused on the confrontation between climate change and cultures across the archipelago. There are 24 contributors, including Merlinda Bobis, Ramon C. Sunico and Padmapani Perez, Shiela Coronel, Dr Michael Tan and Arnold Azurin. Here, Coconuts presents a sneak preview of Agam, as we reprint, with permission, “Ten Fingers” by Merlinda Bobis.
At the airport now, I’m hearing father’s voice before I left. He’s smiling but—“Okay, I’ll pose now. No more drama. Go on, click it!”
Suddenly the camera hides my smarting eyes, and the picture is taken: my father, smile reaching the eyes grown red from too much sun, or from the twinge of this goodbye. “Ay, my child is a scholar in America—she’ll be a doctor! So, daughter, you’ll repair your father after three years?” Then, he’s wiping off the earth from his t-shirt, grabbing the dangling nipa from the roof. So I don’t see the growing red of his eyes.
“Father, my scholarship is for a different sort of doctor. PhD.”
“Ay, indeed, Nene, excuse me, but your father did a different study—of the planting—harvesting, the sprouting of the rice, the dry-and-the wet, the changing seasons, the nature of storms. Op kors, Nene, it’s P-H-D. But don’t forget where you came from—all of us, even those in America, still come from the farm. All of us have been raised with food from the farm—remember this!’
A beautiful picture of my most beautiful father.
I wish to pass his face around, to all the passengers lining up towards the plane. Please, see what can’t be seen. Ten strong fingers in the mud, on the plow and the buffalo, on the rice-grains, on his knees that always ache at night. Please see what is invisible. Behind that window, my mother, making me a sandwich so I don’t get hungry on this trip—special corned beef, she said, from the new grocery a little farther up. But the sandwich is taking forever. To hold back the only child’s departure, to hold back the tears.
“Ay Gloring, you’re taking a long time. Is that a giant sandwich or what?” Father is smiling. Weeping. But I don’t see. Ten fingers of my mother, ten fingers of my father. Please, see the invisible. The many times in a year of fixing the roof wrenched away by the many storms. The many times of evacuating because of the flood. The many times of scavenging for rotting rice. The other day, the wind, the rain wrenched a multitude of houses from the earth. Superstorm: I saw on my computer, when I was finishing my conference paper. But no one saw in the library: how my heart was wrenched out of my chest.
So now, I’m at the L.A. airport, going home to what I don’t know. To what I can’t see in the news: our house, our farm, my father, my mother. I can’t see them, or the impending landfall in my chest. But I see you—you, gasping at this tragedy on TV, on your laptops and iPhones as we wait to take off. Please, I beg you. Look closer. It is my father, my mother, and all of twenty fingers holding back this storm.
IN BIKOL
“Sampulong guramoy. Rumduma ini, sampulong makukusog na guramoy sa umá an nagpadakula asin nagpa-eskuwela sîmo.”
Sa airport ngunyan, dangog-dangog ko ang boses ni Pay bago ako naghale. Nagoolok pero— “Sige, ma-posing na ngani ako. Dae nang drama-drama. O, pitika na!” Biglang natago kang kamera ang naghahaldat kong mata, tapos nakua ang retrato: ang ama ko, olok abot sa mata na namulá na sa sobrang saldang, o sa haldat kaining pagpaaram.
“Ay, iskolar baga ang aki ko sa Amerika—ma-doktor! O ano, Nene, duduktoran mo si Pay mo pagkatapos kang tolong taon?” Tapos, pigpunas-punas sa dagâ hale sa t-shirt, pigruru-rabnot su nakalaylay na nipa hale sa atop. Para dae ko mahiling ang lalong pagpulá kan saiyang mga mata.
“Pay, ibang pagduktor po ang sakong scholarship. PhD.”
“Ay, iyo palan. Nene, pasensiya na ta iba ang inadalan kang sîmong ama—ang pagtarok—pag-ani, ang pagtubo kang paroy, ang tig-init tig-uran, ang pagbago kang panahon, ang pagbagyo. Op kors, Nene, P-H-D mananggad. Pero dae maglingaw sa ginikanan—gabos kita, maski ang mga taga-Amerika, tubo man giraray sa umá. Gabos kita pinadakula kang pagkaon hale sa umá—rumduma ini!’
Magayon na retrato kang sakong magayonon na ama.
Mawot kong ipasa ang saiyang lalaugon sa gabos na pasaherong nakalinya palaog sa eroplano. Hilinga tabi ang dae nahihiling. Sampulong makukusog na guramoy sa dugî, sa arado asin karabaw, sa paroy, sa saiyang mga tuhod na pirming nagkukulog sa banggi. Hilinga tabi ang nakatago. Sa likod kang bintanang iyan, ang sakuyang ina, ipiggigibo ako ki sandwich nganing dae ako magutom sa biyahe—special corned beef daa hale sa bagong grocery sa oro-enot-enotan. Pero daeng katapusan ang paggibo ki sandwich. Nganing pugolon ang paghale kang solo-solong aki, pugolon ang luha.
“Ay, Gloring, kahaloy-haloy mo man. Ano, higanteng sandwich ‘yan?” Nag-oolok si Pay. Naghihibi. Pero dae ko nahihiling.
Sampulong guramoy ni May, sampulong guramoy ni Pay. Hilinga tabi ang dae nahihiling. Pirang beses sa sarong taon ang pagpakaray kang atop na nahulkab kang pirang beses na bagyo. Pirang beses ang pag-bakwet dahil sa baha. Pirang beses ang pagsalba kang naglalapang paroy.
Kaso sarong aldaw, nagabot kang paros, kang uran su kadakol na harong hale sa dagâ. Superstorm: nahiling ko sa computer, kang pigtatapos ko su sakong conference paper. Pero dae ki nakahiling sa library: kung pâno nagabot su sakong puso hale sa sakuyang daghan.
Kaya anion ako sa L.A. airport ngunyan, pauli sa dae ko pa aram. Sa dae ko nahihiling sa mga bareta: ang samuyang harong, umâ, si Pay, si May. I can’t see them, or the impending landfall in my chest. But I see you—you, gasping at the tragedy on TV, on your laptops and iPhones as we wait to take off. Please, I beg you. Look closer. It is my father, my mother, and all of twenty fingers holding back this storm.
Agam will be available in bookstores for PHP1,600 from June 25 onwards. Also on Amazon.com for US$55.
Award-winning writer Merlinda Bobis has published novels, short stories, dramas and poems. Her plays have been produced/performed on stage and radio in Australia, the Philippines, Spain, USA, Canada, France, China, Thailand, and the Slovak Republic. She has performed some of her works as theatre, dance and music. Merlinda has a Bachelor of Arts (Summa Cum Laude) from Aquinas University of Legazpi and a Master of Arts in Literature (Meritissimus) from the University of Santo Tomas, Manila. For ten years she taught Literature and English at Philippine universities before coming to Australia in 1991 on a study grant. She completed a Doctorate of Creative Arts at the University of Wollongong where she now teaches creative writing. She lives in Wollongong, which echoes her first home: a city nestled between the mountains and the Pacific.
Photo by Jose Enrique Soriano
