One Precious Life

Maybe the title should be "some precious sheaves of paper." The short piece below I saved from mounds of paper and assorted files my packrat partner and I hoarded over the years.

Before the New Year dawned, we reclaimed some space, brightened a spare room by getting rid of cartons of paper. I applied a simple criterion for what should be kept: those of heart value stay, those of head (work-related) must go.

This poem, sent by a friend last Easter, stays in the saved files. Alongside the English text written by Mary Oliver is my handwritten translation into Filipino. In the translation venture, Merci Javier Dulawan of the Baguio Writers Group helped me, and I read this at the closing program of the second Cordillera Creative Writers Workshop in Sagada last year.

This is my way of greeting one and all a very good year, one where every bit of life is valued.

THE SENSORY WORLD

I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
Into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
How to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
Which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?

MAPANDAMDAMING MUNDO

Hindi ko tiyak kung ano ang panalangin
Alam ko kung paano magpatihulog
Sa damo, paano lumuhod sa damo,
Paano tumunganga at mabiyayaan, paano maglakad-lakad sa kabukiran,
Na siyang ginagawa ko buong araw.
Sabihin mo sa akin, ano pa ang dapat kong ginawa?
Hindi ba't lahat ay namamatay, at biglaan?
Sabihin mo sa akin, ano ang balak mong gawin
Sa iyong iisang mapangahas at mahalagang buhay?

Photo by KIMI FERNANDEZ

A Moment with Aklay

He has become a byword in the town of Sagada, Mountain Province, this European baptized Philippe who now goes by his adopted name Aklay.

Every Friday morning, he bakes. By noon an array of warm bread is ready on his open shelves (no sanitary glass cases here). You can have your pick of multi-grain, caraway, chocolate bread and even loaves studded with almond nuts. Put five of his oatmeal cookies in a brown bag, and the bag’s bottom gets torn. That’s how heavy and packed each cookie is.

What’s nice about the man is you can drown in his Aidan Quinn eyes. And on Fridays he does smell yummy from all that kneading and baking.

His town mates find him a bit of a conundrum. ’Tis said that he owns a map of Sagada like no other, that he has uncovered old trails, that his visa may have expired and needs renewal. When I ask him if these speculations about him are true, he points to a long, detailed, hand-printed map the size of a huge Chinese scroll. Not intimidated by tall wild grasses, he hacks his way through not-so-frequented areas to discover more of Sagada and its unknown but fabulous views.

On this map, a work in progress, he has painted some birds slowly becoming extinct in this part of the Cordillera like the peregrine falcon. This big bird is the last in the food chain: the earthworms eat leaves heavily sprayed with pesticides, the smaller birds eat the worms, the falcon hunts and eats the smaller birds. Aklay blames all that pesticide for killing off these birds of prey.

As for his being wanted by the immigration authorities, he shrugs and requests that I take photos, using teacher Fara Manuel’s camera, of all parts of his house, but I must leave him out of each picture.

A striking thing hanging from one of his kitchen hooks is an old pasiking (backpack). Its twin is safely housed at the Bontoc Museum.

Drop in on a Friday. And if the baker is in the mood, you can watch him toss a tray here, lay loaves of bread gently as though they’re fragile infants on a spot there, all to the beat of French cabaret music.

Walk the Talk

Teacher-photographer Fara Manuel caught me huffing and puffing up the pathway behind St. Mary's School in Sagada, Mountain Province, one early morning last week. It's the road less taken, and the rewards are endless: grounds covered with pine needles, a commanding view of the poblacion, quiet and stillness everywhere, not to forget a healthier heart from that uphill climb. We were there for UP Baguio’s summer extension work (Fara handled acrylic painting for kids and one adult, I had seven kids whose ages ranged from nine to 12 for a creative writing workshop). Our wish is to connect with more Cordillerans through the continuation of this program.