It began with a plan to stage a night of Bikol songs, growing into a week-long celebration that saw the president of the Cultural Center of the Philippines flying over to attend an exhibit of Suffering Christ, the incense around the figures almost burning down the room in one of the two main wooden buildings of Ateneo de Naga. But this is going ahead of my story.Dr. Mel Regis, a mentor and a friend, was the Dean of Ateneo de Naga, then years away from being a university. Nilma Garchitorena was active with her group of entrepreneurs who were setting up exhibits that served as their laboratory for various business models. Danny Gerona, Jess Volante and I were coming on strong with our Bikol Studies Group, later to be acknowledged as the beginning of the present Institute of Bikol Studies. The three of us were going around Bikol teaching modules on history and culture (Danny’s domain), Field Work Dynamics (the world of Jess who worked with the inestimable Fr. Frank Lynch in the Ateneo’s Social Survey Research Unit), and Theories of Culture (my obsession). We were quite popular mainly because there were no other people doing these things. If there were, they were all in Metro Manila. We were also cheap; in fact, our services were free. It was common for us to be approached after a session by a school administrator who would ask us: ano man po an obligasyon mi saindo? That was the question after Danny Gerona has recited all the possibilities of Lisboa’s Bikol dictionary. Like Danny, Jess and I were not brave enough to answer that vicious question. Deep in our hearts, we believed lectures should not be treated like a tumpok of lemoncito. Young then and even as we are older now, we believe lectures should be treated as vineyards and orchards. Outside of Mel, there were other people who supported us. Greg Abonal, principal then of the Ateneo de Naga High School was one of those who encouraged us and praised our efforts. He secured some speaking engagements for us and even paid us for those services when school administrators did not know what their obligations to us then were. We were looking for the definition of Bikol Culture and assuming that if we do find the answer, we will see there our own identities.
This was when the Bikol Culture Week came in. The title itself presented a lot of problems. What do you present in a week that would capture the culture of the region?
From a plan of 2-day, celebration, we had now a week-long celebration, with exhibits ranging from an old chest dating to the Galleon Trade and rare old coins coming all the way from Sorsogon – all requiring the hiring of security guards. Jess Volante scoured the few kilometers around the city and was able to put up a night of professional Tirigsikan. During the night of the presentation the two Paratigsik would not allow their performance to be timed. They went on and on to the enjoyment of the audience and to the anxiety of the organizers.
Rey Ileto’s Pasyon and Revolution was the cool book for that year. His history from below was inspiring and striking a lot of historians – except Danny Gerona who had always been a passionate historian of events away from the center. From my side, I decided to mount my own view of religion from below, and illustrate the power of the Pasyon. From Daet, I borrowed a Señor de la Paciencia, the image of Christ after the scourging. One thing unusual about this icon is that he was surrounded by Roman soldiers who looked like Guardias Civiles. The owner of the paso already agreed to lend it to me but when the car sent in by Mel arrived in Daet, the owner, said the statue could only be taken by a priest. I rushed to Fr Jack and requested that he went with the group. The good priest did and came back with the statue.
In Ateneo, the Senor was placed in the middle of the room, surrounded by different versions of the Crucifix, the layout designed by Oning Bermudo. I asked that incense be lighted as the Perdon music from Marupit, Camaligan was played. I was with a guest when I was told the room was on fire. The incense has turned into a small bonfire. When the smoke was cleared and the hysteria attended to, the grotesquerie I was trying to paint became even more vivid. That entire building would be gutted to the ground a few years later.