There's No Substitute for the Real Thing | Soar High FrancisM

I am still at a loss for words.

The death of Philippine's Master Rapper Francis "Kiko" Magalona has shaken the Entertainment and Music Industry since news of his death yesterday.

I am at a loss for words because it is hard to imagine someone whose life was pulsating with passion and zeal, color and vibrance can stop just like that.

Again I am left to contemplate about death and its unknown nature to those who are still walking this earth.

I do not want to think of death as a thief. Or death as the end. Or death as a loss. For thinking that would mean living life and running the whole 10 yards accounts for nothing. I do not want to think of death as this big black void haunting the shadows of our waking moments waiting to pounce when our backs are turned.

Death seems to me as a mere hurdle. Or even a mirror that magnifies even the littlest details of moments that capture the essence of someone who passes on to his next life.

Today as more news and videos are uploaded all over the web, I pay my respects to Francis M. Someone who has colored his world with everything he's got. Someone who didn't lose the battle but won it in every smile he mustered amidst all the pain. Someone who inspires me now to keep on living this Kaleidoscope World.

The Virtues of Filipino Bravehearts

It was a hot Saturday morning and I found myself on the road again with my photo adventure partner (what's left of two wings since the other one left for London) grabbing a sausage Mcmuffin with egg breakfast at McDonald's before hitting the South Expressway to Enchanted Kingdom, Sta. Rosa Laguna. I was invited to attend this camp because I have always been wanting to get involved in something that's got to do with little children.

Children have a way of reaching me and breaking through the walls that have built the facade that says: ADULT - DO NOT TOUCH - IS HERE FOR BUSINESS. I know this and I have been on the journey of shedding off some skin because I have started to believe that the world is a much more pleasant place to live in if I let the calloused walls of my heart fall down.

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I entered the tent and was immediately greeted by Mrs. Stephanie Cabanes. A mother of 3. Her eldest son Jarro now 23 years old, has experienced open heart surgery 3 times in his life for a condition called anti-phospholypid anti-body (APA) syndrome that damaged his aortic valve. She is one of the pioneers of conceptualizing Camp Braveheart in 2001. Camp Braveheart is her advocacy to the cause of bringing back hope to the families of children who have congenital heart disease. Her vision: to let them know that there is still room to dream again.

I saw glistening tears forming from the side of bright brown eyes and I felt mine surge to the surface as well. It is one of those moments where the soul speaks louder and breaks the barriers of age, experience, and environment. I was moved by how this has fueled her passion to live despite the moments wherein she hung by a thread close to giving up.


The irony of being in a Filipino middle class family is when you are not poor enough to be the cause of charity organizations and you are not rich enough to easily afford the expenses that hit you like a shockwave when you are in the middle of a family crisis. But it is here when all solutions seem to fail that another one shows up to unveil what solves the financial burden but most of all the very core of the burden itself: the anxiety of heart. Mrs. Cabanes experienced what it was like to have all options of financial support gone and only rely on her strong-willed mother’s heart to beg and borrow, kneel and pray so that their hearts as a family can begin to beat again.

It is here when the Filipino's "lakas ng loob kumayod kahit wala na ang lahat" [the strength to persevere even when all is gone] becomes an apparent virtue exemplified. The virtue of the Filipino Braveheart. The heart whose cries start from the depths of it struggles and reaches the end of its walls as a willful choice to keep it from caving in. The heart whose weakness is transparent in every lamentation but whose only ounce of strength is flung up to the high heavens because the last thing it can do is keep the hope. All for one thing. Para sa pamilya.

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Zaine Capangpangan is almost 2 years old. She had her open heart surgery when she was 7 months old because of a heart murmur since birth. I met Zaine yesterday introducing herself with a beautiful smile. Her lips next to my ear whispering “My name is Zaine Capangpangan.” She shyly poses infront of the camera and bursts out in exuberant laughter after she sees her photo on the little LCD screen.

She came with her mom and her Tita. Both of whom raised her since her father is working abroad. They are worried about her life and the fragility of her health. She does not like eating a lot except when they go to Jollibee and order her fries and gravy, her favorite meal. They are worried about how she will grow up and if there will be job opportunities that will take her given her condition. But they are happy saying, “Basta makita lang naming siya masaya na kami. Basta magkasama kami, Masaya na kami.” [As long as we see her, we are happy. As long as we are together, we are happy]

I look at the little girl with big bright eyes and a wide happy smile. She has so much life that you can barely notice the deep scar at the center of her chest.


The irony of seeing the vibrancy of life in a child who almost lost it brings me to realize how poorly we can keep our decision to remain vibrant in our lives when we are not threatened with sickness, poverty or calamity. If one little child, with her weak heart, can re-ignite the vibrancy in her family’s togetherness what more are we who have our families and our heart’s intact?
The Virtue of the Filipino Braveheart surpasses any struggle weighed upon by impossible life conditions. Giving value to what is nearest and what is dear, the family for whom it beats, and the life for whom it pours out love.

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I got reacquainted with Sarah Ocson Duremdes, a former Miriam Highschool classmate who was one of the guest speakers at Camp Braveheart. She shared her faith filled story with much inspiration and fortitude on how she conquered the journey of her son’s open heart surgery when he was 8 days old.

Inigo Ocson Duremdes was diagnosed with a condition called Transposition of the Great Arteries (TGA) wherein the aorta and the pulmonary arteries were reversed. This condition limits the body from getting oxygen rich blood. After just 8 days of being born he had to go through the difficult procedure of open heart surgery. His family in complete anxiety awaited the long procedure and struggled to remain hopeful through this whole time. As his family worried for his life, they also worried about the expenses that would be incurred.

Similar to the any middle class family who I have spoken in this Camp, the Duremdes’ went through the whole experience of begging and borrowing to ensure that their son’s condition can be well supported financially. The ordeal of thinking about the economics of the situation and remaining steadfast in their faith was a painful struggle that led them to the end of their selves. Put in one corner of life where the future seemed bleak, they had no other option, no other contingency plan except to surrender what is in their hands to God.

Nigo flatlined a couple of times and when the surgeon had almost turned off the machines that monitored his heart, hope came as if the heavens opened and Nigo by some miracle started to breathe again.




The irony of seeing life just being born to immediately being taken away is heart-wrenching for any mother to experience. After the long grueling hours of labor and recovery, you watch your life from a vantage of point and ask, “What is all this for?”

The Virtue of the Filipino Braveheart is reliant on the truth that there is always a miracle waiting around the corner that conquers insurmountable odds for someone who refuses to give up and let death simply take over.

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The family’s virtues make-up the character of any individual. The family is the microcosm of any nation.

The Filipino Brave Heart is borne from experiences such as these. These virtues allow our lives to shine in the midst of darkness, stand strong in the midst of storms, breakthrough in the midst of circumstances that we thought would cause us to break down.




My experience with Camp Braveheart families yesterday showed me how to live with a heart that beats with no walls guarding its vulnerability. How this vulnerability transforms into the seed of strength wherein lies the dignity of the family. A Filipino Family. Filipino Families who survived and are surviving the journey of collectively letting their hearts beat as one so one can keep on living. How one tiny heart weakened in flesh has transformed all others to be strengthened in the heart of their spirits. This is the kind of miracle that ignites once again our will to live.



If one family can be transformed and re-ignited with passion for one another, then our nation can be filled with families giving birth to the flame that makes these little heroes today the big heroes of tomorrow.

Camp Brave Heart Song

Yung unang mabigat
Ngayon puno ng pag-asa
Sa bawat pagtibok
Tayo’y nabubuhay

Tayo’y nabigyang buhay
Dahil nilikha ng Diyos,
Aming simbolo ng buhay,
Aming mahiwagang puso.



Refrain
Sa bawat hininga
Ito’y tahimik ngunit buo
Mapayapa ngunit matapang
Magpapasalamat habang buhay
Nagpapasalamat sa Diyos.

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credits:
for the pictures - Javi Cabanes
for the invitation to Camp Braveheart - Tita Steph Cabanes

Moving Stills: The Exhibit Launch and Awarding

An privilege to participate in one of the worthy causes I've supported. Honoring the Dignity of Filipino Workers who have decided to stay and move the nation.

Do visit. :)

For more information go to the Outlooke Pointe Foundation website.

LIYAB PILIPINAS.

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poster by Javi Cabanes

Discovering Filipino Gypsies

It caught the left side of my peripheral vision. A ferris wheel towering over an empty field where cows grazed every morning about 5 kilometers away from work. The road curves to the right when the field comes into full view and there I began to see it one by one as if it were slowly peeking out of the shadows. The ferris wheel joined by others of its kind. An octopus. A small roller coaster. And a carousel. Immediately I was enchanted. An empty carnival standing on its own on a vacant piece of land by the roadside called Paliparan, Cavite. There were no walls that barred anyone from entering. There were no gates that called for an entrance fee or some other kind of social introduction.

There was something about the overcast sky that was beckoning. It felt like one of those empty castles that waited exploration or a city of ruins that waited discovery. For me to catch a glimpse of this on my way to work was a keepsake and recurring thought that begged to be woven in a story. I’ve been thinking about a Saturday that will allow me to finally pay a visit.

That Saturday was February 7. 1:00pm in the afternoon. I parked the car by the side of a dirt road and together with my friend we walked across the carnival grounds. It was somehow eerie and I couldn’t help but feel that I was trespassing even if there were no signs that told me I was. When I laid my feet on the damp grass, I felt the soft earth. The soil wasn’t tilled and it told me that this land wasn’t really paved to have a carnival sitting on it. I looked around and saw little box shacks situated on the north, east and west side of the entire carnival perimeter. As if on unison, heads started to peek out from curtained doors and some children came out from hiding.


We were clearly strangers. So I initiated by calling out “Magandang umaga po!” and introduced myself as an advocate writer for the Outlooke Pointe Foundation. I asked if we can take pictures and told them we want to be able to capture the story that lies behind their different and fascinating livelihood.

A tall man stepped out of the north end. He was thin and dark and sported a mustache. His nose was pointed and his skin looked like it was sun burnt. I approached him and smiled to show ease and introduced myself again. He said his name was Bob Mariano. When I explained what we wanted to do he nodded and simply gave us an okay.

It has been a long time since I saw vintage carnival rides sitting on raw untilled soil. The last time I remember seeing these rides was when I attended school fairs in the 1990s. These days we’d see all sorts of rides merrily grazing over colored theme parks like Enchanted Kingdom in Sta. Rosa Laguna or the newly opened Disneyland in Hongkong. But the stories behind the commercialization of theme parks now did not draw me in unlike this one.


A rusty roller coasting and a faded carousel smelled like rain. Damp wooden floor boards for steps elevated them from the ground. I walked around some more and saw more people coming out with tools and wood. They started hammering them together to form a booth at the center.

Manong Bob was looking over the men that were building and sat a while a few feet away from us. I sensed him relax when he saw that we didn’t mean to do anything else. So I went up to him and talked to him again. I found out that they have been on that land for about a month. He said that they came from Binan Laguna. He travels with other families who own a carnival ride and agree to visit town after town from Cavite to Laguna talking to town officials and landowners so they can set up tent on their vacant property to put up carnival rides for townsfolk to enjoy.


Manong Bob has been doing this for 41 years. On 1968 he has inherited the livelihood from his parents and continued the business ever since. He enjoys it and finds that he has gotten used to the lifestyle of moving place to place. I asked him if he ever rode the rides he owned and he said yes. He said he’s never been afraid of riding them because he grew up with them.

There was a slight glint in his eye when he said this. Like some sort of pride shone through at remembering the memory. He didn’t want to have his picture taken for some reason and we didn’t insist. We walked over to his shack and met his family. He has a young wife and a young beautiful daughter who looked straight into the camera when we took her photo.

We met a guy named Alex. He was an interesting looking fellow who wore a lot of rings and bracelets that I became fascinated with. I asked him where he bought them and he said there were a lot of silver made jewelry in Binan Laguna being sold for only 200 pesos. My jaw dropped as I looked at my own silver ring that cost me 800 pesos from a mall. We took their pictures and there were a lot of smiles when we showed them how they looked from the LCD.


That day I experienced what it was like to have fun in a small town way. Where close knit circles huddled to excitedly hear a new story or entertain a visitor. Where the smiles became a genuine expression of ease and comfort. For 2 hours I was immersed with their stories of nomadic living and realized that I was talking to real life Filipino gypsies. Whose lifestyle has always captivated me because of such mystery and freedom.

That day I realized that there were many in our country who uphold the tradition of continuing what has been passed down through generations because it was an honor and a duty to do so. It did not only happen in upper class society but those of whom found home in the outskirts of posh cities in the Metro. It did not happen only with big family corporations or small entrepreneurial businesses but also in the likes of these groups who travel like nomads living month after month on giving a town a space to experience and enjoy the freedom that they’ve found when their own journey becomes their home.


I salute and honor their livelihood because I realized that in their own way and in their own scale, I knew that if they carried the business this long, they have somehow made a difference if not on one small town but maybe perhaps one child who felt the wind on her face and the rain frolic on her cheeks giving her a reason to smile that day from high up the ferris wheel’s peak.


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credits:
pictures by Javi Cabanes