February 2020

Katitikan Issue 2: Places and Spaces

Introduction

Looking at Space and Place: The Navigation of Meaning Making
Thomas Leonard Shaw

Fiction

Ang Huling Sayaw ni Sebyo
May Morales Dolis

Rectokado
Cesar Miguel Escaño

Echoes of Pasig
Matthew Jacob Ramos

Sanayan Lang ang Pagpatay
Gabriela Baron

Ulan-init
Hannah Lecena

Poetry

City lines
Andrea Lim

It is snowing in your country
Christian Baldomero

There is a boy in the island
Christian Baldomero

Cleaning the Attic
F Jordan Carnice

Sky Over Cairns
F Jordan Carnice

A Philosophy of Water
Ma. Carmie Flor Ortego

The placenta of evening stars
Ian Salva?a

Amihan
Ian Salvana

Cartography
Jose Kervin Cesar Calabias

Ang Hiniling Ko’y Umulan
Andre Gutierrez

Ang Karamdaman ng Dagat
Joshua Mari Lumbera

Heometriya ng lungkot
Liberty Balanquit

Ka-wala-kan
Stud Jader

Lawalawa
Arthur David

Pagkatunaw
Arthur David

Hasmin
Arthur David

Petsay Ma’y Bakwit Din
Emman Lacadin

Bakal Dos at Uno
R.B. Abiva

Ang Kalsadang Puno ng Pananagimsim
Renz Rosario

Lawag
Renz Rosario

Creative Nonfiction

Here, There, Everywhere: Catching Up with Criselda Yabes
Charles Sanchez

My Trilingual Career
Francis C. Macansantos

Baybayin All Over Her Face
Kevin Amante

Choosing to Stay Home
Astrid Ilano

Play

Labada
Andrew Bonifacio Clete

Luyag ‘Da’ra’y Anino  (A Kingdom of Shadows)
Christopher Gozum

Looking at Space and Place: The Navigation of Meaning Making

During the 1st Cebu Writers Workshop held in Oslob from the days of Feb 7 to 9, there arose during the sessions a constant need to talk about place-making. Here Place-making was dominantly figured through two other relevant concepts – that of space and that of meaning making. Fellows and panelists alike talked about their own uniquely framed politics ? concurrently nostalgic, translational, and migrational ? as intersecting with the various means by which they live in and make sense of the world around them. This has enabled multiple ways of thinking about our sense of place and the values that we charge or even burden it with.

With that being said, while the workshop took place after the call for this issue, the questions and points that were raised throughout the three-day discussion I feel are relevant in framing the significance of the ideas of space and place with regards to this issue. Such questions may cover race and gender; how do we think of our sense of Filipinoness? Of our sexualities? Of our ability to speak of our marginality (as queer, as non-English, as non-Tagalog) within our own spaces dominated by external discourses? Can we articulate a decidedly unique way of representing our cultures, of our homes, of our beingness in these spaces if we are to speak in differing tongues? Does our distance from each other (geopolitically and culturally) offer a way of affirming multiculturalism and plural-nationalism in times of political and historical homogeneity?

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Choosing to Stay Home

?Diri lang ta,? Nanay Salbing says, as she leads us through the maze that is Barangay Pasil.

An hour ago, I was sitting in a cubicle in our office on the sixth floor of a building inside IT Park. The office only seems to have two colors: blue and white. In the office, there are cubicles as far as the eye can see. And once you sit down on your designated spot, the only sight you are permitted is your computer unit, which you would be staring at for the rest of the day. If you stayed glued to your work, other people aren?t visible unless you look over the spines on top or to the side, which requires movement. Everything inside there is identical and easy to commit to memory.

Every step in Pasil is dynamic.

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Baybayin All Over Her Face

Her eyes spill out unspoken stories?in the form of wrinkles that etch deeper and longer with the passage of time. From the corners of her eyes, they branch out like patterns on the wings of a butterfly?crawling all over her face, etching curves on her cheeks or fashioning waves on her forehead.

These scratches of age may reveal themselves as random graffiti for marking territories, as if declaring, The fine lines around my eyes are the marks of generations I witnessed coming and going. The folds below my mouth are the stories I wish to tell but can only whisper.

I witnessed these lines curve and swirl and dance with the rhythm of time, until they turned themselves into beautiful baybayin: the hushed characters of our history, striving for survival, like every one of her silent stories.

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My Trilingual Career

Francis C. Macansantos ? Butch to his friends and family ? considered many places home. Born in Cotabato City in 1949, he spent his boyhood in Zamboanga City, hometown of his parents. A Zamboangueno at heart (and palate), his memories of growing up with boyhood friends in Zamboanga were vivid and came to life in many of his poems written in English and his native Chabacano. Though he earned his A.B. (English) degree from Ateneo de Zamboanga (where he also completed his high school education), he earned some of his collegiate units at MSU Marawi, where he came under the mentorship of talented Literature teachers such as Nena Marohombsar. On the recommendation of fellow Zamboangueno writer Cesar R. Aquino, Butch attended the Silliman Writers? Workshop in the early 1970s, and was drawn to the Dumaguete community of writers and teachers, enough for him to subsequently enroll in the university?s MA Creative Writing program. He lived the writer?s life in Dumaguete for close to a decade, learning to speak Cebuano, and enjoying the company of friends both in the university and in the city. This stay in Dumaguete afforded him regular attendance in the annual summer workshop, where he later served (formally and informally) on the critics? panel, with his mentors Dr. Edith Tiempo and Dr. Edilberto Tiempo. At Silliman, Francis also worked at some point with the late Antonio Enriquez, who taught briefly at the University, and who remained a close friend until he passed on in 2014.

Butch taught for close to two years at MSU Marawi until 1980, when he had to leave after incurring the ire of the then University president, for a parody performed in public by Francis? group of faculty members. Mindanao during Martial Law was not the best place for outspoken academics and writers, and though the stories seemed unbelievably horrific, it was later confirmed by fellow teachers (who hid Butch and his fellow offenders in the women?s dorm) that indeed gunmen were on the lookout for the group. In 1981 Butch relocated to Baguio to join his spouse Priscilla ? whom he met in 1976 at Silliman. He has since lived in this mountain city, save for a five year stay in Newark, Delaware in the US, in 1990 until 1995. Though he learned only a smattering of Ilocano, the lingua franca of Baguio, Francis considered Baguio and the Cordilleras his home for more years than the periods of stay elsewhere. He was a regular market-goer and had many sukis in the market and the neighborhood. One of his sukis at the local talipapa was the wife of a writer in Ilocano ? Jimmy Agpalo- and he interspersed literary banter with everyday neighborhood gossip whenever he had the chance to chat. (At his wake, friends from the university were joined by his loyal market vendor friends and members of the barangay council.) Teaching briefly at UP Baguio, he made friends with the visual artist Darnay Demetillo, a fellow Sillimanian, and joined the artists? collective Tahong Bundok, founded by Darnay and fellow Baguio visual artist Pyx Picart. Before the turn of the century, Butch also formed, together with the late National Artist Cirilo Bautista, the Baguio Writers Group. He mentored young writers in and out of the university, and sometime in 2007, initiated the holding of the Cordillera Creative Writers Workshop at UP Baguio. It was also during this period when he served in the Literary Arts Committee of NCCA as representative of Baguio and the Cordillera region. The essay that follows was read at the last Cordillera Writers workshop in which he participated as panel member.

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