LSD-1 Passionate Living Moment

By Pinky C. Serafica (‘Banog’)

All-around artist and writer Pinky Serafica is a lover of nature and people, es­pecially indigenous communties. A member of both the SanibLakas Founda­tion and the LightShare e-group, she shared this experience with the group back in 2002. She now works with a health-oriented NGO.

HAVE YOU EVER had moments when you breathe in and realize joy, get a glimpse of soul and the di­vine, know that the world and you are one and seamless, and you hug your­self, or agree with another heart, that "oh yeah, this is good!!" ?

And you gush telling peo­ple about it later, your words and movement tumb­ling ov­er themselves in frenzy, and you just can’t help but gig­gle when crossing the street, and strange tam­bays tease you, "uy, in love siya!"

Some time back, i went to a Talaandig community at the foot of Mt. Kitanglad in Bu­kidnon and appren­ticed as dan­cer and drum­mer under the men­toring of an indigenous art­­ist, Waway Saway.

Having had his share of naughty and nice art and cul­ture circles, Waway went home to his tribe to return the bor­rowed inspiration that had spawned many a visual art­work and many a musical piece.

He intuitively knew that i did not have the pa­tience for classroom-type sessions so the workshop went on while he was farm­ing, chanting to his kids, play­ing the flute to wel­come sun­rises (shifting to drums later to wake me up) where one looks down instead of up (much like being in Mt. Pulag), walking, jamming with other Talaandig youth -- in other words, my training was lived. In between writ­ing and directing, i was already per­forming with sheila-na-gig, an all-women percussion, dance and chanting group.

I felt, though, that i needed some kind of grounding again, wish­ing my fingers and feet weren't too stylized but rooted in what Waway called the "ori­gin of sound and movement," nature and community, and me as my source and reservoir.

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My christening came because everytime hawks appear, i'd go crazy in excitement, running after them, and dancing...

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My last connection, after all, was years ago with Datu Gibang of the Ata-Manobo -- he who spoke to me from his tattooed eyes, knowing no Ce­buano or Taga­log. But that was different, he was getting the warriors ready for a pangayaw (war) then be­cause their land, and lives, were threatened.

In Kitanglad, i was given the name "Banog" for hawk because the Talaandig's dance was patterned after the bird, and Waway made me simulate its flight while on the mount­ain slope, barefoot, weaving among the pechay and kama­tis -- "lipad, Pinks, lipad!" The kids, Badu and Ella joined the glide, making Wa­way a pied piper of sorts, the drums reverberating in the background.

Pinky C. Serafica is "Luna Mirasol"

a.k.a. "Butterflies and Moodbeams"
in the LightShare e-group, a.k.a.
"Banog," adopted daughter of the
Talaandig.

My christening came be­cause everytime hawks ap­pear, i'd go crazy in excite­ment, run­ning after them, and dan­cing.

Waway's family and other locals would also go cra­zy with excitement but for an­other reason-- while the banog for me was a symbol of great freedom and environ­ment­alism, for them, all the banog were, in all practicality, pests and thieves, stealing chickens and other small live­stock from many an al­ready poor farmer, so their ap­pearances weren't exactly welcome.

With Waway i painted with earth (literally), a new hue was found in our hike close to the river. We planned to drum and dance in a sacred place higher up, and deeper into the forests but the rains said i should just come back.

Sultan, the tribe's youngest hun­ter, told me of a dream about deer and invited me on a hunt--which meant the keeper of deers was ready to give up one of its own to our realm, but i am a vegetarian and still a­ghast at killings. Erwin ("Ki­dagaw") told me Sultan gets sick if he doesn't up and run with his dogs and spear, if he dares defy the keeper and his summons.

Waway's house leaked, and we shivered nightly from the cold that almost always finds the many holes. The kettle and table are familiar with vege­tables and dried fish, meat is a stranger.

The packed ketchup which got lost in my camping pack was a delicacy. When his kids have need of medicine that herbs cannot treat, he runs to friends in Malaybalay (the ur­ban center nearest to them).

Teaching at the living school which he had helped found does not pay, not even for dinner or clothes or a new paint­brush.

The tribe is poor, gamb­ling is an easy out, and shabu has not gone its rounds yet nor stayed, because they can't af­ford it.

And yet Waway stays, and Erwin is getting ready to build his own little space, offending deeply his middle class family in the city. They thank me for the gift of presence, because it was the strongest argument for the other Talaandig youth to be Talaandig, and live Talaandig. Why else would a city girl go all the way to learn Talaandig?

Though i still cannot sa­lute the sunrise with my gift of flute and wind, i drum every­day, and dance. It's the only promise i made after all, to my teacher-- that i will live it.

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