My Second CAMMA

Like most people, I take great pleasure in being given an award. But, modesty aside, I’ve grown rather wary with awards offered to me. It worries me to think that there are just so many awards given out these days.

You may not believe it, but the macho dancer who once starred in one of the earlier movies I made had about 20 or 30 trophies filling up precious space in their small house at a slum district in Manila. He bragged to me that he was a consistent winner in the monthly “big night” at the gay pub he was working in. It was his talent that always impressed the judges, he said — he’d dance the pandanggo sa ilaw (a traditional folkdance) naked, with a lighted candle attached to his… you know. Oh, come on, you know what!

There’s often a line of connection between who’s giving the award and who’s getting it. Sometimes the giver of the award actually gets more from it than the recipient. The gay bar where my former actor worked would overflow with customers during a “big night,” a competition among macho dancers. The regular strippers of the pub would do anything – show their innards if need be – for the sake of winning a trophy.

Even with the professional and moral distinctions given out these days, a lot of times the presence of the recipient at the awarding ceremonies does more honor to the giver than the getter. For instance, it legitimizes a dubious organization to give an award to somebody famous.

This, to me, doesn’t look like the way awards were meant to be given. Something’s not quite right. A prominent public figure would often get so much more invitations to dinners, lunches or special awards ceremonies in his honor than any person could possibly manage to attend.

Many of these honorees risk their health from the tight succession of rich meals. But they are just too polite to decline when asked to show up in an event to honor them. And so they show up, even if it crosses their mind that the whole thing may just be a fund-raising activity by the sponsoring club or organization, with pricey tickets being sold to their members and the general public.

When I started working in media, I experienced the elation of being offered to be given an award. As soon as I was heard on the radio or my name appeared in the end credits of certain TV shows, former classmates were quick to bring up the idea of a class reunion. Many would surely come, the organizers thought, if they knew I would be there.

I would be given an award supposedly for my “achievement in the field of mass media.” Wow! But what achievement were they talking about? I was no Rick Dees or Walter Cronkite. In fact, I was yet so new in the business at the time. There were more successful classmates of ours, although in less visible professions – agriculturists, midwives, social workers etc. So I politely declined.

There are professionals who are making a big difference in society but who will never be offered an award, because they belonged in a field that is considered “backroom.” The public does not see an accountant at work, or a researcher, or a guidance counselor.

Just because the job is not publicly visible does not make it less important. Electrical linemen work until the late hours of the night when most of the city is already asleep. Our nights would not be as comfortable without these guys working overtime on the lines that give power to our homes, particularly the lights and the cooling equipment.

I consider it a great privilege, therefore, to be part of an industry where the public either gets to see us at work or see our work. This is enough for me. The job makes me bigger, many times bigger, than my actual self.

In our house, there’s a tarnished trophy with most of its thin plating of silver already gone. I got it for winning “Best Foreign Language Film” in a foreign film festival many years ago. Beside it stands a framed championship gold medal I won at a national oratorical competition as a college freshman.

The most recent additions to my short line of honors are the CAMMA trophies for “Best Feature Writing,” which I got in the last two consecutive CAMMAs, in 2007 and 2009. (CAMMA, the Cebu Archdiocesan Mass Media Awards, happens every other year.) Am I bragging? Please, no.

In 2005, when I was first nominated for CAMMA, for my writings in this paper’s Por Vida, I was flabbergasted. Honestly, I didn’t think I deserved it. I was not even sure, then, if I could really write. I thought the CAMMA people were just being kind to me.

But, on second thought, why should CAMMA be especially kind to me? They did not know me personally. And they did not know, for sure, that I needed that nomination to affirm the budding writer in me.

Then came the two CAMMAs in a row. In the light of the most recent one, given last August 23, my editor wanted to have an article on my winning. She assigned a competent writer – a real writer! – to interview me. I begged off. I was afraid it might all get into my head.

If anything, winning my two CAMMAs are an added pressure. Now I have to prove myself even more, prove that I can really write and do it quite well. It takes me some time to finish an average-length article. I wish that, eventually, I will be able to write a whole piece in one sitting, like the proficient writers do.  

Of course, I treasure my two CAMMAs. The awards group picked a virtual unknown like me for the honors. They could have given it to some big name, if their intention was to benefit from the association.

I believe that when CAMMA gave me these awards, they meant it. And so these crystal trophies will stand in our bookshelf at home for a long, long time. For as long as the engravings on them could still be deciphered.

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