Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Kamayo in Spirit

N.B. - The Kamayo poem after this article was written in 2008.


One thing I share in common with my father is our growing interest in writing Kamayo poetry.  Two years ago, when I asked him to write a poem for the Balik-Marihatag newsletter, I saw his face lit up with excitement. He grabbed his pen at once and wrote a series of metrical writing in Kamayo – a poem he entitled “Layat-layatan”. It was an amusing poem of two parts, uniquely Marihatagnon for it contained names like Pisaw, Tarin, Puwahan, Mantika, Liswit, Kagwang – all twit names we use to call someone instead of their first names, sometimes a collective “layat” for a certain clan.

The eternal Omagon spirit has been witness to the unfolding 
of generations.

The first part of his poem tells of the cheerfulness of Marihatagnons, lighthearted and placid even at the mundanity of rural, commonplace life.

                                Sa una na panahon
                                Ang kanatu mga ginikanan
                                Kalipay ang mag layat-layatan
                                Abu da haw magkatipon da gani siran

The last lines in the second part were pieces of  imagination, a fictitious product of a Marihatagnon’s mind who remains unflustered by layat-layatan.

                                Gapabuto ng Bulog
                                Kinargahan ng pulbura
                                Adto pasingud sa tubig
                                Yangabungog ang mga Pisaw, 
                                Boriring, ug Latab
                                Yangahug ang mga Bayabas
                                Itangag ng Kwahaw
                                Ihuwesan ng Buwakaw


I remember writing an entry to a Kamayo-poem writing competition sponsored by the hosts of the 2002 Pakighimamat. The competition received a good number of entries and we were made to read our works on stage.

I take pride in that first literary piece I wrote in Kamayo, and I’m sure the many others who wrote their works must have felt the same – a sense of ownership of each word in every line, for we speak the language that represents the heart and soul of a Kamayo. 

Writing in the vernacular is marked by profound insight, as one is able to go deep into each word and its meaning. The fluidity in expressing the ideas is lucid for the language is embedded deep in the person.
Indeed, there is “there is truth in spirit”. And that spirit of the language that we speak defines us, creating an embodiment of what Marihatagnons are truly like.  
                           
                                                               
                                Hain Da Kaw? 

                                Pira pa ka tuig ang yalabay
                                Sukad pagbiya mo
                                Ani sa lang ako… gatagad, yanghamay
                                Basin kadi mabalik pa kaw
                                Kay amo say gisaad mo

                               Yauso ra lang and cellphone ug text
                               Wara sa gayud lagbong mo na yabalik
                               Basin matahay da lang ang suba sa Tugbungan
                               Diri mo gayud ako kadumduman

                               Dayaw pa ang hinangkan
                               Mauli haw mahapon sa punoan
                              Haw diri da kaw gayud kanako
                               Pagpatigam lang…
                              Sarig kay ang buhok ko sa alipudhan
                               Maihap da kuman
   

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

'Ya Anul

It’s past two in the afternoon and she sets up, inside her tiny hut, her usual necessities for the day’s affair: sacks of baliongan (coconut husk), a makeshift pugon (oven) made of empty oil cans, a long, wooden spatula, and trays of freshly kneaded dough shaped into small circles and ovals.

She loads several baliongan on top of her improvised furnace and smoke ascends as she puts them burning gently.  The soft, plump circles and ovals, neatly arranged on top of green banana leaves in groups of five or six are placed inside the hot pugon, one group after the other. Subsequently, a delicious aroma wafts into the air and sends some gastronomic senses stimulated for an afternoon snack.

'Ya Anul's utilitarian furnace.

‘Ya Anul, as she is fondly called, has no name for her delectable pastry, unlike many popular breadstuffs like cheese bread, mongo bread, and pan de leche. People just come every day to her tiny hut, sitting on the corner of the bus terminal where she bakes the most popular bread in town.
   
Born Arnulfa Lozada in 1933 to Venancio Lozada and Maria Antona, she spent most of her life in Marihatag, Surigao del Sur, where even at her age, she remains an incessant figure on that corner of the bus terminal. Her marriage to Antonio Lacreo of Tagbina, Surigao del Sur in 1955 bore them twelve offspring, sustained by Antonio’s job as a government employee at the munisipyo and the unflagging vitality for her craft. She has once worked as a baker at the elementary school canteen during the Nutribun program in the 1980s.

Her process of bread making is left untouched by technology. Kneading is done manually with the help of her children and she sticks with the basic ingredients with no fancy ornamented designs – just plainly shaped as ovals and circles; the oval-shaped being the plain variety and the circle-shaped with bukhayo (sweetened coconut meat strips) fillings inside.

One doesn't need a sophisticated gadget to create something delicious.

Her simple formulation for bread-making, which her children know by heart, is like a family treasure only known to them.  Her youngest son and indispensable assistant Aurelio explains, they follow an accurate and consistent measurement of the ingredients: flour, yeast, salt, sugar, water and a small amount of oil. He adds they put less yeast in their dough unlike many commercial baking processes and they follow a considerable time for proofing (the rest period when the dough is allowed to rise) prior to baking in the oven.

The delicious stuff, seasoned with passion and skill has already been noted, even among the temporary people passing by the bus terminal– drivers, passengers and travelers. The delicious afternoon aroma leads them to that tiny, makeshift hut where ‘Ya Anul and her wooden paddle-like spatula work in constant tandem.

When love and passion are infused into a craft.

At seventy-eight, with many of ‘Ya Anul’s children gone off to marry, she takes pride in her grandchildren, some of them also taking into heart the heritage of her craft. She will continue to bring delight to every afternoon merienda, for soon, that is to be her legacy to her children, her grandchildren, to the people who come to her every day, and to Marihatag in general.  

Note: Apologies for the blurry photos; these were grabbed from the video shot we took of her in 2005. Here's the video link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5KIvgofYpGo