Himno ng Apoy sa Gubat ng Dilim by Arlan Camba, Pia Montalban, and MJ Rafal (Aklatang Batlaya Publishing Collective, 2011)
Three young poets met in a book launch and gradually became close friends. They found common grounds on political issues, proletarian causes, and advocacy for social justice. They eventually decided to collect their poems and publish them independently. They called it Himno ng Apoy sa Gubat ng Dilim (Music of Fire in the Forest of Darkness).
The music of the poets' lines were indeed set on fire. They were so intense they glowed, creating a wall of forest fire keeping out the wild animals of the night. Their voices were raised loud from deep within the tangle of vegetation, making readers feel not only the heat but the light of day.
I spent the better part of the first of May listening to the music of these poems. The occasion couldn't be more auspicious. The book is dedicated to "the tillers and toilers of our land" ("para sa mga magbubukid at manggagawa ng aming bayan").
The selection of poems here displayed an uncompromising stance against those in power who perpetuate oppression and human rights abuses. It essayed not only the harrowing condition of marginalized farm workers and ordinary people in a cruel capitalist society. More importantly, it boldly called for immediate action and social reforms to resist that untenable condition.
Some pages of the book were like downsized placards containing the sentiments and exclamations of protestors and demonstrators in the streets. Yet the raging voices were often tempered by compassion for human struggles.
Arlan Camba opened the book with an invitation to the collection's rhythmic, fiery singing. His poems usually began with lines and chants heard in street demonstrations. Some of these may already be familiar gripes, tired and overused, but at the end of his poems, the final lines realigned the familiar protestations into a literal call to arms. The poet was crafting his novel protest through the fortification of his previous litanies of disenfranchisement. By reconstructing the street protest in a poem, it enacted its own galvanizing protest. The electric atmosphere of his protest poems secured empowerment through the power of words.
Here's the final stanza of "Gusto Kong Tumula" (I Want to Recite a Poem). It consolidated the poet's plan of a violent revenge on the bourgeoisie:
Gusto kong tumula, sapagkat gaano man kapurol at padaskul-daskol ang pananalinghaga, gaano man kapudpod ang mga pananaludtod, sa tulad kong nagmamaka-makata may sasarap pa ba sa pagpatay gamit lamang ang salita? | I want to recite a poem, however feckless and reckless the act of composition however clichéd the imperative to create, to the likes of me—poetaster— is there anything more satisfying than to kill using words? |
And here is the final stanza of Camba's "Saan Patungo ang mga Alitaptap?" (Where Are the Fireflies Going?):
saan patungo ang mga alitaptap? makapangyarihan ang lagablab ng apoy sa nagliliyab na kaluluwa; tutupukin ang 'sang uniberso ng mga berso't talinghaga ng pakikidigma... hahalakhak ang makata, luluha ng dugo ang mga salita, lalatay ang hagupit ng mga taludtod sa isip, kaluluwa at katawan; sapagkat... bantayan man sa magdamag ang mga alitaptap walang pagsisidlan sa kasaysayan ang katapusan ng lahat-lahat... | where are the fireflies going? forceful the blaze of fire on combusting soul; it levels one universe of verses and the war's metaphors... the poet screams in joy, words spill blood, the lash of lines reddens the mind, spirit and body; and... even if the flights of fireflies are closely monitored the death of all has no place in history... |
The direct target of the poems was the the ruling class who erected a "forest of darkness" to strangle the poor "weeds", robbing them of sustenance, depriving them of air and the light of sun. The images were necessarily violent as they explicitly dramatized an all out war against the oligarchs.
Pia Montalban, the second poet, continued to fan the flames of the fire that will guide the way for those languishing in the dark prisons of poverty and powerlessness. She did not shy away from depicting contemporary issues that bedevil the present national administration. Issues like agrarian reform and the displacement of the poor were explored through the introduction of female personae, perhaps the poet's own. Her identification with the national body politic, as "Pi(lipin)a" for instance, was an inventive way of communicating a personalized vision/version of reality at the mercy of capitalism. The latter was a threat to sustaining the things that make humans human, like love.
In "Tunay na Sining" (True Art), Montalban probably described the three poets' unified ars poetica, their collective aesthetics of resistance. Here's an excerpt:
| Patay ang manunulat sa simulang maglakbay kanyang mga akda. Ni hindi ito makapagmumulto sa bawat mailalathalang misteryo, buhay, kathang-isip o katotohanan kaya't mawawalang silbi mga hinabing salita kung mensahe'y nakasulat sa diyalektong wala nang nakauunawa. Mahalaga sa tula ang tugma, aliw-iw o daloy o alindog pag-indak sa tyempo't kumpas ng panitikang nakalipas, metapora't talinhagang magbibihis ng estetika Ngunit aking igigiit ito'y dapat na maging daluyan ng nilalamang may kahulugan. Nailuluwal ang sining kapag ang salita'y nakapagpipinta ng imaheng kumikintal sa diwa ng mambabasa-- ngunit sining na walang saysay kung imahe'y hiwa-hiwalay at pagkakaugnay-ugnay iilan lamang makapagbubulay-bulay Lalo namang sining na walang buhay sining na sa sarili lamang at sa iilan iniaalay. | The writer expires the moment her works take flight. She will not be a specter haunting each posthumoous mystery, biography, fiction or truth and so words woven become stale if the message is writ in a language no one understands. Rhyme in poetry is important, rhythm, pacing, charm dancing in time to the beat of literatures of the past, metaphors and figures putting on an aesthetic But I shall insist it must be a conduit of words of substance. Art is birthed when words illustrate images that last in the minds of readers-- art is worthless when the images are disjointed and coherence only a few anticipates More so the art that's lifeless art that is offered only to self, or a mere few. |
The poet argued for simple art, grounded in reality and abhorring the fireworks of obscurity. If resistance art is to speak, then it has to speak with the legibility of black letters on white paper. It has to be meaningful to the large segment of society, those who are many but vulnerable.
MJ Rafal, the final featured poet, was the most experimental of the three. His poems were diverse narratives of playful forms and subjects. He showed a gift for storytelling and a mastery in the deployment of particularized details, as with the daily struggles of low income workers. If I make him sound like a writer of fiction, that was only because his poems here had an engrossing plot and action.
Below is one poem by Rafal, a sample of the anthemic output of this talented poet. It was dedicated to the memory of Alexander Martin Remollino (1977-2010): the poet, journalist, and activist who was an acknowledged influence and inspiration to many poems in the collection.
| Pananatili kung isa ka nang hangin ngayon ihip kang nagpapaalab ng mga sulo ng pakikibaka't pakikitalad ihip kang nagpapaindak sa mga palay at tubo ihip kang tumutuyo sa pawis ng mga manggagawa't magsasaka kung isa ka nang hamog ngayon nakayakap ka sa mga talahib at dahon doon sa kabundukan at nagmamasid sa mga kasamang namamahinga't kasiping ng gabi butil ka ng hamog na kumikislap sa pagtama ng liwanag ng buwan sa munti mong katawan kung isa ka nang ulan ngayon hinahaplos ng masisinsin mong patak mga buhok at pisngi ng iniwang mga kasama't kaibigan nagpapaunawa na ika'y hindi nawawala at nananatili sa puso at dugo ng masa na iyong pinag-alayan ng buhay at musa kung isa ka nang apoy ngayon tinutupok mo ang mga tanikala ng pananamantala't inaabo ang inhustisya sinusunog mo ang mga barong at saya ng mga hunyango't elitista lalagi kang tanglaw sa mga tahanang kaniig ang isang pirasong kandila at kung isa ka nang lupa ngayon hayaan mong tumindig kami sa dibdib mo bigyan mo kami ng tuntungan na di matitibag ng mga medalya't trono hayaan mong magtanim kami sa dibdib mo ng mga binhi ng ganap na paglaya na aanihin namin, natin sa nalalapit na panahon | Abiding if you're now turned into air you're the gust that flares up the torches of resistance and defiance the gust that sways the stalks of cane and rice the gust that dries the sweat of tillers and toilers of the land if you're now turned into dew clasping the cogon grass and leaves in the mountain and observing the people resting and enfolding the night a piece of dew that shines when the light of moon grazes your tiny body if you're now turned into rain your too fine drops will stroke the hair and cheeks of friends and dear ones left behind telling them you are present, abiding in the heart and blood of the common mass to whom you offered your life and muse if you're now turned into fire you raze the shackles of abuses, turn iniquity into ash burn down the suits and skirts of elitists and pretenders you are ever the light of homes holding a sole candle in their midst and if you're now turned into earth let us stand tall on your chest give us a steady foothold that can withstand medals and thrones let us sow on your chest seeds of sustainable freedom that we will, shall reap in the days to come |
Thanks to K.D. for the book. Translations above are mine.
No comments:
Post a Comment