The word on paradise redux

It was about a decade ago when I first stepped into paradise. The Paradise Island Beach Resort on Samal Island, that is. The occasion then was a literary workshop by the sea, by a white-sand beach, run by the UP Creative Writing Institute then under Jing Hidalgo.

Last Wednesday, while dear Jing had to stay in Manila because our fellow writer and my former whisky buddy Tony Hidalgo rather sadly left us early, and was interred that day, I am almost sorry to report that over 30 writers from the NCR took the same danged flight to Davao City to experience a wonderful three-day literary fest.

Well, as danged luck would have it, our flight originally scheduled at 3:30 p.m. was deferred to 5:15. By which time we were all onboard, not a few probably wondering how much Philippine literature would be set back if our flight never reached Davao. But we jut sat there for almost an hour, the plane still on the tarmac, until it finally taxi-ed to the runway and took off past 6 p.m.

At best, that meant arrival down South by 7:40 p.m., or nearing the end of halftime of the momentous Azkals-Mongolia encounter in Bacolod, which I had been hoping to catch live on TV. Did the next best thing, texted at least four futbol aficionados just before lift-off, to text me the goals as they came.

Scurrying off the plane the minute it landed, I couldn’t help but note the sad irony that TV screens were on, entertaining a seated audience at the departure lounges, but that the monitors faced away from the glass panes partitioning those areas from the walkway for incoming passengers.

Aida Rivera-Ford and Rony Diaz were among the notable senior writers in attendance.

The news via SMS, from four corners of our archipelago, one from a spectator right at Panaad, all said the same thing: 0-0 thus far. Hmm. Couldn’t quite believe that the puny-looking Blue Wolves could hold off Phil Younghusband and Simon Greatwich for a good 40 minutes.

But as the impatient wait by the slow luggage carousel started, there it came: the ice-breaker on the 43rd minute, a magnificent goal by local boy Calingdog, right between the legs of the “Mongoalie”!

Now, getting over 30 writers with assorted backpacks, laptops, bayongs, and fake Louie Vuittons into coasters naturally took an exasperatingly long time, longer than the 15-minute halftime break at Panaad, which I imagined to be already enjoying 360-degree-Pinoy elation.

It took what seemed an eternity to get to Royal Mandaya Hotel downtown, all the while that Butch Dalisay across the coaster aisle from me heroically attempted to get a livestream feed on one of his usual array of gizmos. But he said it was just 3G or something, couldn’t go WiFi on the road, so very sorry.

Jessica Zafra texted along the way that while the Azkals dominated possession, they seemed gigil na gigil at goalmouth, and were making errors that cost us at least three or four additional goals. And that Ian Araneta seemed such a sh*t, since he had spat on a fallen Mongolian. 

As soon as we disgorged ourselves at the hotel driveway, I dashed the hundred meters into and across the lobby, past a café and dining area with a buffet table, and towards the flatscreen just off the roast-beef station. Eighty-eighth minute! Still at 1-0! Injury time. Then Phil Younghusband’s left foot curved in another heartbeat goal into a corner of the net. Ah, jubilation! At least I caught one.

Chris Mooney Singh from Singapore gamely joins cultural dancers at the Mindanawan Cultural Night.

And that was the story of our late-evening arrival for TABOAN: The 3rd Philippine International Writers Festival from February 10 to 12 in Davao City, as spearheaded by our good poet-buddy Ric de Ungria, and organized by the Davao Writers Guild and the LCB Performing Arts Center, with funding assistance from the NCCA.

Ricky served as festival director, gaining much help from Dominique Gerald Cimafranca as conference coordinator, Dr. Macario Tiu as program coordinator, and Jhoanna Lynn Cruz as secretariat coordinator. Take a bow, guys. Never easy to assemble over 80 writers under one roof, to honor and celebrate the word.

The delegates from Bicol were Carlo Arejola, Jun Balde, Kristian Cordero, Jazmin Llana and Adrian Remodo. From Central Luzon came Kragi Garcia, Anne Theresa Mabanta, Juliet Mallari and Santiago Villafania, while the Cordilleras were represented by Priscilla Macansantos and Luchie Maranan, and the Ilocos by Roy Aragon, Juan Hidalgo, Alwynn Javier, Cles Rambaud and Baldovino Valdez.

Understandably, the NCR had quite the major contingent: Gémino Abad, Jose Dalisay Jr., Ida del Mundo, Rony Diaz, Carlo Flordeliza, J. Neil Garcia, Vlad Gonzales, Nerisa Guevara, Carljoe Javier, Sarge Lacuesta, Shirley Lua, Bienvenido Lumbera, Mario Miclat, Glenda Oris, Danny Reyes, Menchu Sarmiento, Angelo Suarez, Roland Tolentino, Lulu Torres, Cris Yabes, Krip Yuson and Lito Zulueta.

From Eastern Visayas came Bryan Argos, Isidoro Cruz and Randy Tacogdoy, while Western Visayas was repped by Nemesio Baldesco, Elsie Coscolluela, Jade Dionzon, Jennibeth Loro, Janis Salvacion and Victor Sugbo. Northern Mindanao sent Steven Patrick Fernandez, Zola Macarombon and Telesforo Sungkit, while Western Mindanao had Marcelo Geocallo and Ben Halili.

The host region, Southern Mindanao, was amply represented by Satur Apoyon, Dom Villafranca, Joy Cruz, Ric de Ungria, Vanessa Doctor, Aida Rivera Ford, Paul Ransy Gumanao, Teng Mangansakan, Arnel Mardoquio, Raul Moldez, Maria Morales, Don Pagusara, BJ Patiño, Macario Tiu and Rick Villafuerte. 

Decorative fish sculpture adorns a pier at Paradise Island Park & Beach Resort.

Visiting foreign writers were Savinder Kaur and Chris Mooney Singh from Singapore and Xu Xi from Hong Kong and NYC.

And finally, esteemed writers from Davao and Mindanao who were recognized for their lifetime achievements were Saturnino P. Apoyon, Herculano C. Borneo, Sr., Guillermo J. Dagohoy, Justo S. Virtudazo (dagangalan Raul Acas), and apart from the aforementioned Aida Rivera-Ford and Don Pagusara, our dearest friend, the poet, painter, muse, mother, and Road Map Series pioneering publisher Tita Lacambra-Ayala (dagangalan TALA).

Joining us were publisher Karina Bolasco and poet Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta, among others, camp followers, groupies et al.

Imagine that. Over 80 Pinoy pen-pushers, scribes, chroniclers, chanticleers, caterwaulers, bloggers, Twitterers, Facebookers, fabulists, a good number of these multi-awarded, to use Butch Dalisay’s favorite word (LOL!), and at least two of whom were vegans, thus giving the Royal Mandaya Hotel kitchen certain problems.

Delivering the keynote lecture to kick off the conference/festival was National Artist Bienvenido Lumbera, who spoke in Filipino on “Ang Pambansang Kamalayan at ang Panitikan.”

Simultaneous panel discussions were then conducted over three days, on such topics as: “Writing in Many Tongues: The Mystery of Multilingual Writing”; “Spirits of the Place: Local Myths and Folklore and Literature”; “Contemplating the Navel: The Situation in the Regions”; “Salita at Diwa: Challenges and Opportunities in Translation”; “The Painted Word: Visual Art and Literature”; “Lumad Literature in Mindanao”; “New Voices from the Regions”; “The Sound of the Word: Music and Literature”; “Literary Criticism and Native Literature”; “Platforms for Supporting Young Writers in the Regions — For Asia and the World”; “Spit and Polish: How to Sell Yourself in the Writing Market”; “Getting into Print: Magazines, Glossies, Journals, Anthologies”; “What do Writers Really Want, Aber?”; “New Fix: Writing Flash, Spec, Teen, and Fan Fiction”; “Come Together Under What Flag? Writers and Advocacies”; “The New New Journalism: Adventures in Literary Journalism”; “Beyond Borders: Globalizing”; “Ako ang Nagwagi: Winning Literary Contests”; “How to Be a Bestseller, Or What’s Wrong with Being Popular?”; “Everybody Wants to be a Sudden Poet: Guiding Young Writers to True Poetry”; “Writing Lives — The Writer’s and Other’s”; “Writing Below the Belt: Erotica Today”; “Lights! Camera! Action! Writing the Screenplay”; “Tag Team Writing: Collaborative Literature”; “Voices for the Future: Young Writers and Language”; “Writing and the Internet”; and “Sideways Shifting: From Another Career to Writing.”

A book bazaar was highlighted by book launches, and post-dinner features included a Mindanawan Cultural Night, Ating Tingog: An Evening of Poetry and Performance featuring poets reading in their regional languages, and on the last night, the Taboan Awards.

“Taboan” in Bisaya means “marketplace,” so that the festival sought to be “a marketplace of ideas for the Philippine literary community.” As festival director De Ungria’s program message had it, “TABOAN is a moveable feast in celebration of the power of the word, whether it be written, sung or chanted, or performed.”

Outreach programs involved talks at educational institutions: UP Mindanao, Ateneo de Davao University, Holy Cross of Davao City, University of Immaculate Conception, and University of Southern Philippines — where last Friday Cris Yabes and this heckler led a discussion on “Media and Peace” (Yabes was of course suitably qualified, having recently authored Peace Warriors: On the Trail with Filipino Soldiers, published by Anvil).

Speaking of peace, on the first day of the fest, last Thursday, I just had to break away for a few hours by myself, to seek that idyll of private moments from the marketplace, and achieve what writers must at some point or other during any social and literary interchange.

I recalled Paradise Island Beach Resort, how easy it was to cross over to Samal Island on a regular shuttle boat at a fee of 15 pesos for the eight-minute ride across. And there it was, even more spruced up now than 10 years ago, with a couple of long stretches of white-sand beaches that offered healing morning sun and clean, clear waters.

Sculptured fish adorned one jetty, with water spouting out of their mouths. It was all really rather redundant, for all that seawater one can lave in was enough to recharge the spirit, and convince me, at least, that here indeed was peace, in a public yet oh-so-private Eden of contemplation, away even from the market of words. Or maybe that was the word itself, on paradise.