PANANAW, Issue 15 by UPLB Perspective

PANANAW XV 2022

Ang Pananaw ang opisyal na folio ng UPLB Perspective. Dibuho ng pabalat | Jael Apostol, Nikki Layug Walang bahagi ng aklat na ito ang maaring masipi o muling mailimbag sa anumang paraan nang walang nakasulat na pahintulot mula sa tagapaglathala maliban na lamang sa pagkakataong ang sinabing pagsipi o paglimbag ay para sa akademikong rebyu o panunuring pampanitikan. Ang lathalaing ito ay hindi maaaring ipagbenta sa kahit anong komersyal na transaksyon. Maaaring maabot ang editoryal sa Opisina ng UPLB Perspective Room 11, Ikalawang Palapag Gusaling Student Union University of the Philippines Los Baños College, Laguna pananawuplb @ gmail.com perspective.uplb @ up.edu.ph

MGA NILALAMAN 01

If the shoe fits

Floriane T. Taruc 02

How to Write History

3-4

The Restoration

5-6

Remembering

7-18

Mac Andre Arboleda 03

Aljhon Ace C. Saguid 04

Dana Jean L. Cabalza 05

LIMBAG–ALISIN

19-20

Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo 06

Daanan

Felise Jane B. Calza 07

Searching the Facts in a Sea of Lies John Lester Centino

Pagitan ng Panahon Daniella Bianca Agatep

ABANTE! An interactive art session on forum theater Pat Gregorio, Edie Palo, Roma Villareal

21-22

23-24

27-35

Journal Entry #NeverAgain

36-40

Kyle Ramiel Dalangin 11

Sa Kalsada Tayo Magkita

41-46

Karma Kolektib

Taimtim na Pag-iisip

47-48

Biguin ang Tiraniya, Umanib sa Hanay ng Masa

49-50

Ron Jay P. Dangcalan 13

Ace E. Quijano

Settled

51-54

Daphne Sandoval 16

Bukas

Freedom Park

April Rose Q. Cañete, John Michael Silerio 15

Kenneth Ryan C. Febrero 17

Save Our Past, Save Our Future Magpies Press

57-58

EDITORYAL Nang aming binuo ang temang “Pagtatapat ng Hinaharap,” nagbabadya pa lamang ang pagpapatuloy ng walang pananagutang rehimen at pagbabalik ng anak ng diktador sa parating na halalan. Kasabay ng pagkabalisa at takot sa walang kasiguraduhang hinaharap ay ang mga panata ng paghilom, pagahon, pagmamalasakit, at malinis na pamumuno ng mga kandidato. Marami sa mga ito ay mga panakip butas lamang sa mas madidilim na intensyon sa sandaling napasakamay na nila ang kapangyarihan. Kaya naman tuwing sumasapit ang eleksyon ay ating pinagninilayan ang nakalipas at ang hinaharap. Ating tinatanong ang ating kapwa at mga sarili - aling bahagi ng nakaraan ang dapat ibasura? Aling bahagi nito ang dapat panatilihin? Aling parte ng ating kasaysayan ang nagsisilbing babala sa ating kasalukuyan? Higit pa rito, alin sa kasalukuyan ang babala ng ating hindi pagtugon sa nakaraan? Sa panahon pa lang ng kampanya ay saksi na tayo sa bunga ng malawakang makinarya ng tambalang Marcos-Duterte na matagal nang itinanim at pinangalagaan ng mga may kapangyarihan. Bawat sandali ay iginugol ng pamilyang Marcos upang untiunting linisin ang kanilang pangalan. Patuloy ang kanilang pagtiklop ng kasaysayan sa panggigiit na ang mga dilawang oligarko at pulahang rebolusyonaryo ang pilit na umantala sa masagana at tahimik na pamumuhay ng mga Pilipino noong administrasyong Marcos. Isang naratibong sinuportahan at mas pinaigting ng katambalang administrasyon ng mga Duterte gamit ang pagsupil sa kredibilidad ng midya at mga akademiko. Sunod-sunod ang lantarang pag-atake at pangre-red-tag sa tinig ng mga kritikal na peryodista, mananaliksik, mag-aaral at mga guro, dagdag sa pilit na pagpapasara sa pinakamalaking korporasyon ng midya sa bansa. Bilang pamalit ay ang pagtatag ng kanilang sariling midya na may bentahe sa istruktura at algoritmo ng Facebook, TikTok, YouTube at iba pang mga platapormang nakikinabang sa fake news at paghahasik ng galit. Hindi rin naging mabisa ang sistema ng edukasyon sa paghadlang ng

kumakalat na pagrebisa sa kasaysayan at krisis sa impormasyon. Sa mismong loob ng mga paaralan ay nagkakaroon ng pagtanggal ng mga araling pangkasaysayan kaugnay sa kabuuang realidad ng Batas Militar at ang kawalan ng masugid na pagtalakay nito. Ang mga naganap na pagyurak sa karapatang-pantao at ang bilyon-bilyong pangungurakot na nagsadlak sa atin sa isang utang na hanggang ngayon ay binabayaran pa rin ng ordinaryong mamamayan — sa iba, ay nananatiling mga kwentong bayan o mga mito na sa tuwina lamang napag-uusapan. Sa pagkulong sa maraming Pilipino sa kahon ng mapanlinlang na midya, kasabay ang tahasang pag-atake at pagkitil sa mga kilusang mapagpalaya ay ang pagkakait ng rebolusyonaryong kaalaman at karunungan sa sambayanan. Mula sa kapaguran at matinding pagnanasa sa pagbabago, umusbong ang nostalgia sa dating pamumuno ng kamay na bakal na sinusundan ng ilusyon ng ‘Golden Era’. Ang mga atraso na dulot ng Batas Militar ay binura, ang pangalang Marcos ay nilinis, at ang kasaysayan ay minanipula at isinulat muli. Ngunit sa harap ng sistematikong pagbubukod sa masa, mas lalong nangibabaw ang naging pagkakaisa upang kalabanin ito. Makalipas ang dalawang taon ng lockdown, masigla tayong nagtipon sa mga elektoral na campaign rally at maging mga protest rally . Naging masagana ang paglabas ng iba’t ibang inisiyatiba at porma ng protesta tulad ng parada sa katubigan ng Laguna de Bay, pagmartsa sa Lopez Avenue, pagpinta ng mga mural, pagbuo ng mga kanta, pag-abot ng mga polyeto, paglunsad ng mga feeding program , at marami pang iba. Para sa ilan, dumalo sila sa kanilang kauna-unahang rally o kaya nama’y hinarap ang kanilang mga kamag-anak na biktima ng mali at mapanlinlang na impormasyon. Alam ng mismong mga nasa oposisyon na hindi maaaring nakapaloob lamang sa kanilang hanay ang mga hakbanging ito, na kailangan nilang maabot ang malawakang masa. Kaya’t tumungo tayo sa lansangan at aktwal na pinarating sa iba’t-ibang paraan ang makatotohanang impormasyon ukol sa sitwasyon ng bansa at ang mga plano para baguhin ang umiiral na kalagayan. Isinalin ang mga polyeto, tarps at bidyo, at kahit mismong mga personalidad sa social media at TV ay nagbahaybahay kasama ang mga boluntaryo.

Sa kabila ng panunupil sa mga progresibong grupo tulad ng Pamalakaya, Save Our Schools Network, AMIHAN, at alternatibong pahayagan tulad ng Bulatlat at Pinoy Weekly, ay ang walang kapagurang paglulunsad ng iba’t-ibang hakbangin at organisasyon na nagpapalakas sa ating karapatan sa malayang pamamahayag at mapayapang pagtitipon. Mula sa UPLB at buong Timog Katagalugan, nariyan ang alyansang Youth Defy Marcos and Duterte - Southern Tagalog na binubuo ng mga organisasyong pangkabataan; ang pahayagang pampaaralan mula sa College of Development Communication (CDC) at College of Agriculture and Food Science (CAFS). Nasaksihan din natin ang bunga ng makasaysayang pagsulong ng mga estudyante para sa ligtas, abot-kaya, at inklusibong edukasyon. Matapos ang higit na kalahating dekada ng panggigiit sa pagbabasura sa bulok na SAIS ay maasahan na natin ang pagpapalit sa sistemang ito. Patuloy ding nakakatulong sa mga mag-aaral ang tradisyon ng #OccupySU na nanggigiit sa ating karapatan sa libre at ligtas na espasyo. Mula naman sa Pananaw, nakilahok ang aming mga kawani kasama ang mga kapwa’t lokal na artista sa tatlong gabi ng kultural na pagtatanghal ng Protesta De Mayo. Inilunsad din ang kauna-unahang Usapang Pananaw na naglalayong palawakin pa ang diskurso ng sining at maging karagdagang espasyo kung saan ligtas na makakapagbahagi ang lahat ng kanilang mga ideya, suliranin, at mga naiisip na solusyon. Nagsilbi rin itong plataporma upang manghikayat ng mga kontribusyon sa folio sa pamamagitan ng pagbabahagi ng iba’t-ibang paraan ng pagtugon sa pagsubok na inilapit ng kasalukuyang isyu. Inimbita namin ang iba’t ibang manlilikha mula sa loob at labas ng Timog Katagalugan upang suriin ang tema at paano ito nasasalamin sa kanilang mga likha. Sa mga nakaraang suliranin na ating pinagdaanan natin masusulyapan ang iba’t ibang malikhaing pagsisikap upang mapukaw at mapaunlak ang damdamin ng bawat botante, ng sambayanan. Hinila at ikinulong ang maraming Pilipino sa kahon ng propagandang sumusuporta sa isang kandidato na layon lamang makabalik sa kapangyarihan, makalusot sa mga kaso

ng pandarambong at maitakas ang pamilya mula sa burak na pinagtapunan sa kanila. Subalit, may bagong henerasyon ng mga Pilipinong nagmamahal sa bayan ang namulat, patuloy na nakikibaka laban sa diktadura at pumapanday sa katotohanan at positibong pagbabago. Ito ang pinili nating pagsikapan, ang pagalayan ng ating oras at kakayahang lumikha. Sa mga pahina ng ika-15 na paglalathala ng Pananaw, pinatunayan at ipinagpatuloy ng mga may-akda ang makasaysayang gampanin ng sining at panitikan sa “Pagtatapat ng Hinaharap”. Pagtatapat bilang pag-amin ng mga kakulangan sa nakalipas na panahon at pagiging tapat sa katotohanang di mapasusubalian upang maging gabay sa kasalukuyan at hinaharap. Matatas na binaybay at iginiit ng mga may-akda ang makatotohanang kasaysayan at inilarawan ang mga kinabuksan na nakaugat dito. Imbis na sayangin ang ating oras sa paghihintay ng kalalabasan ng hinaharap na magbubunga sa ating kasalukuyang kalagayan, tayo mismo ang nakilahok sa pagbuo nito. Ang pagsasadokumento at pagsusuri ng katotohanan ay kagyat sa gitna ng pagbubura at pagbabaluktot ng kasaysayan. Kasalukuyang isinusulong ang proyektong “How To Write History” ni Mac Arboleda upang ilantad ang organisadong pag-atake ng mga tagasuporta ni Marcos na naglalayong ilihis ang mga kritisismo at pagkukulang ng rehimen. Gamit ang isang Raspberry Pi Network, kinakalabanan nito ang paghaharang sa pag-akses sa mga progresibo at kritikal na pahayagan na malimit ngayon. Mula sa balakid ng pagkuha ng datos, ang “Journal Entry #NeverAgain“ ni Kyle Dalangin ay isang pagtatangka upang bumuo ng sariling arkibo sa kabila ng mga itinuturo sa silid-aralan. Ang dinamika ng mga institusyong pang-edukasyon ay hinahamon: ipinapakita ng akda na may pagkakataon na mamulat sa labas ng silid-aralan kapag patuloy ang pagpapalakas sa edukasyong makatotohanan at mapagpalaya. Idinidiin ng mga akda sa isyung ito na hindi nagtatapos sa pagsasaulo ang kasaysayan. Kaakibat ng pag-alala ay ang pagkilos. Mula sa mga larawan ng “Biguin ang Tiraniya, Umanib sa Hanay ng Masa” ni Ace Quijano, masasaksihan ang patuloy at makasaysayang malawakang pagprotesta laban sa diktadurya sa kabila ng tatlong dekadang pagitan ng dalawang larawan.

Ang pagkilos ay dinadala mula sa lansangan tungo sa tanghalan sa “ABANTE!”, na isang ‘interactive forum theater’. Hinahamon nito ang mga tagapanood na maging bahagi ng kwento. Dito, ang mga ‘spec-actor’ ay sinasanay na tapatin ang mga suliraning kailangang harapin–kagaya ng gendered bathrooms , na siyang tinatalakay ng programa. Mahalaga ang paglalarawan ng mas magandang kasulukuyan at kinabukasan upang mas lalong mabigyang direksiyon ang ating pagkilos. Sa maikling kwento ni Dana Cabalza na “Remembering”, nailalarawan ang makamasang pananaw ng kaunlaran na di mahihiwalay sa kanilang tinataglay na pamahiin at kolektibong karanasan tungo sa adhikaing lumaya mula sa pang-aapi at pagsasamantala. Maraming kinabukasan nahuhulma sa bawat pagkukusa natin. Sinasalamin ito ng mga kuwadradong sator na “LIMBAG—ALISIN” ni Dennis Aguinaldo — ang ilang posibildad dulot ng pagtanggal ng National Task Force to End Local Communist Armed Conflict at Commission on Higher Education sa mga diumanong “subersibong” libro mula sa mga aklatan ng mga pampublikong pamantasan. Ninakawan na tayo ng ating kasaysayan at hindi natin hahayaan na manakawan pa tayo ng ating kinabukasan. Ang inyong matutunghayang mga likha ay saksi at patunay sa kapangyarihan natin na tumindig, magkaisa, at sumulong sa mga panawagan tungo sa mapanuring kamalayan at makabayang pagbabago. Hindi kailanman dapat nagtatapos sa isang malikhaing proyekto, isang post sa social media, o isang kilos lamang — ang pagsulong at pagprotekta sa demokrasya ay isang malawakang kilusan. Hindi ito mabubuo kung ito ay nakasalalay sa sabayang paglimot ng kasaysayan. Hindi lamang bilang ang nagpapalakas sa pagtitipon ng mga tao - ang matatag na pag-aalala at paninindigan ay siya rin nating sandata. Kasaysayan ng Pilipinas ang patunay na noon at ngayon, ito ang naging armas sa pagtatagumpay laban sa anumang yapak ng tiraniya.

Daphne Sandoval Hulyo 2022

PANANAW XV

If the shoe fits by Floriane T. Taruc

Footfalls on marble tiles followed by a click clack of heeled Louboutin, bright red underneath like the communist flag or a Prada bag and fresh blood. A ball is in order opulence cum murder Pamulinawen, harder, harder. First the faux royalty seated in thrones of bones then the crowing cronies like vultures they roamed. People came and were fed fingers licked and glasses filled a flowing feast commenced to honor the king, they said. Alas! The ball in order was premeditated murder that none but a few seemed to remember. To those who forgot: hear the faux king sing Pamulinawen, harder, harder The son is his father.

The Restoration by Aljhon Ace Saguid

As what makes a warbird fall and blow-by, also makes a warbird rise up and fly, let us follow our Ferdie ’s demise and resurrection, in tunes of grim, in toons of redemption: At Honolulu on the twenty-eighth of September, 1989, a crash site was probed, grasses found burned in line. Our wartime plane, recovered in a field, reclined, wings wrecked, hanging, angled cockeyed.

Splat! —Below the remains seated piles of rubble, softened metals kissing blasted crumble; hunkered beside a distant rock laid the propeller, on the upland plateau rested the battered rudder. Repair of the wreckage began decades after, like a legacy project, Ferdie was reborn like an alter. At Manila on the thirtieth noon of June, 2016, Ferdie ’s engine roared back to life, pristine. Shade: similar, structure and scheme: original; name: changed to Rody in the airport terminal. Rebuilt, authentic as in its yesteryears, Rody like Ferdie used the same wretched gears:

PANANAW XV

decoys and chaff — to blind enemy radars, long-range missiles — to destroy media sonars! A telltale indeed, Ferdie turned Rody , gained traction, and now has taken off as Bongbong : our ultimate sanction! The return of the powers must have been destiny, and Bongbong is poised to fulfill the final prophecy; the nation will be great again, the sky rosened, and those who dare to dissent will be silenced;

Bongbong , in its unchanging and perfect build, will set the wind fairly to the side of its guild, soon in eagerness Bongbong will cross Manila Bay, and hover over muddy terrains on Memorial Day! Now the apparition was revealed, let us leave our lords, and listen to Malacañan’s pleading, dying words: “Stop the warbird— Bongbong —for I dwell alone, And alone, I am left with ghosts in the zone! In all my grandeur, terror was at my doors, now guilt and conscience will become my visitors!” “May-day! May-day!” In selfish doubt it soon uttered. “I shall live in both dread and desire with this warbird!”

Remembering by Dana Jean Cabalza

I think maybe I’m in the wrong place. It’s been what, 20 years since my last visit? Back then it was all vegetation and the town square was nothing more than a few stalls under galvanized steel sheets. Now it’s a buzzing network of hulking shopping malls, businesses, transportation terminals and paved roads into subdivisions. I can hardly recognize the place. Amazed as I am, I can’t help but feel a sense of dread at being back here. I’ve got a good life back in Manila, and I would like to get back to it as soon as possible. I got on the first red-eye flight as soon as the city council called about the old estate. They wanted to discuss plans of building a memorial for my Lolo -the province’s pride and joy; do the inspection, sign the papers, and catch the next trip back. I would tie off the remaining loose-ends of our family and leave it behind for good this time. “It’s been one hell of redevelopment huh” I say to the driver in Ilocano as the asphalt and multi-complexes make way for dirt paths and thicker tree lines. “Yes, it has, sir. When it started, the governor back then called it a ‘Rebirth’ and ‘Burying the past’ and all that crap,” he replies in Ibanag, the dialect spoken in these parts of the North. Those are his first and last words to me since the journey began. I thought maybe some small talk would do him some good, seeing how nervous he was about taking me on as a passenger. That’s alright though, I’m used to it. Ever since I was a child, people were always wary about taking this road. I figured it was because of my grandfather. Don Javier Carrion was not exactly a gentle welcoming soul–extremely territorial and domineering, he was a pillar of authority in this town, running his hacienda with a tight fist and the governor’s seat with the same iron will. I just thought that after 20 years of him being gone and after all, he’s given them in return, maybe his influence over people would have softened a little, perhaps faded into a faint memory. But seeing the nervous eyes of the driver scanning the tree lines left and right over the rear-view mirror and hearing his mutterings of “ tabi-tabi po ”, I guess I thought wrong-some things never change.

PANANAW XV People here have always been especially superstitious. I used to find it almost comical: stereotypically Filipino of them to hold old-wives’ tales and ethnic remedies with such high regard. I used to scoff at their little warding charms, and joke about the strange customs to my college friends in Boston. But today, I find myself agreeing with them; This place has come to haunt me too. It is a two-decade-old chasm I am trying to bridge here. The last time I was here, that last night… “This is as far as I go, sir” the driver says, grinding the car to a halt near a roadside cafe surrounded by bushes of thorny red flowers, eyes trained in front of him. Usually, I would’ve put up a fight. Started an argument, complained, and insisted. But seeing his white knuckles on the steering wheel, I figured it’s probably safer to get off. The estate is a short walk from here anyway, maybe coffee and a hike would do my stiff legs some good. “Are you sure I can’t treat you to a cup of coffee before you go, manong ?” I asked. He turns to me with a quizzical, horrified expression-eyes wide and sweating profusely. I knew he wasn’t much of a talker, but damn, would a cup of coffee with me really be that bad? “Sir-” “It’s okay, manong . I get it. I’ll be going now. You must be busy what with it being tourist season and all.” I wave at him as he drives away, watching me through the side mirrors. Enticed by the idea of a warm cup, I turn towards the waft of roasting beans. The bell chimes as I walk through the coffee shop doors. Immediately, the smell of coffee and wildflowers hit my nose and I can’t help but inhale it deeply. The shop says a lot more from the inside than out. Situated in the middle of tall trees and green, it is decked out in hardwood floors and gauzy white curtains hanging from open window panes. Various antiquities and baubles decorate the walls and shelves-quirky, with a touch of vintage bohemian. Very 70’s. I take a seat by the window facing a view of the forest. Just then, the bell chimes again, and a woman enters. The sight of her strikes a chord resonating deep inside of me- shock, elation, guilt. I train my eyes on her for what feels like forever, scanning her from head to toe, making sure I am not mistaken. It is her, different but the same. I would recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Cathy!” I call out, waving my arm over the empty shop. She whips her head around and we lock eyes. Suddenly, I become aware of how I look at the moment: hands up with a ridiculous look on my face. As she walks over, uncertainty begins to wash over me; What in the world compelled me to call out to her? Why did I think that was a good idea? Would she even be happy to see me? Would she even remember? “George? George Carrion, is that you?” she says in that familiar punto of Ibanag I haven’t heard in a long time “Yeah,” I say sheepishly, hands in my pockets, “it is. I’m so glad to see you! Wasn’t sure you’d remember me.” “Of course I remember you.” Do you remember that night? , I think. “How could I forget?” she continues Looking at her now, a flood of memories rush through me: the same caramel skin, dark hair and wide smile. Older and wiser and more woman than the girl I knew her to be back then, but still her. My heart flutters with the familiar twinge of childhood nostalgia; giggles and pinky swears and mud fights by the river under a canopy of trees every summer. But all I can do is train my eyes on the red poppies of her dress—I can’t bring myself to look her in the eye. The last time I saw those eyes, they were wide-eyed and panicked, standing outside the backdoor to the dirty kitchen of our ancestral mansion. She was panting so hard I thought her lungs would give away. She was covered in cuts and bruises, her face tearstained, nails and feet muddied, her hair wild. “Where have you been Georgie?” she asks, bringing up the old nickname. There’s a pointed look in her eyes, forceful, like an impatient host who’s been waiting for their late visitor. “Oh, I’ve been around I guess.” I say, “Went to university in Boston, but as you might remember, I was never really the studious type. I tried, you know, I really did, but my family’s plans for my degree fell through anyway.” “George Carrion trying? I can’t imagine…I’ve never known you to try for anything in your life.” “Yeah, well…I think I’m more of a free spirit you know? More suited to unwinding under the mahogany or daydreaming in the riverbank like we used to when we were kids” “That’s funny,” she gave a small chuckle. “What is?”

PANANAW XV “The way you say we .” “What about it?” I ask “I distinctly remember you being the only one doing the unwinding, the daydreaming. I was too busy running, remember?” “Really? Running?” “Running to and from the fields. Running to fetch water. Running for errands. Running at night…” Cathy said, “And now, running this place.” No wonder it looks so nice. Cathy always had an eye for pretty things. I used to sneak her little bits and bobs from the house to put in her “collection”. Colorful hard candies from the pantry, some of my Lola’s gold buttons that came off in the wash, and flowers from our veranda. One time, my grandfather caught me sneaking out to give the gifts to her. He smiled, told me to tell him all about my friend. So I did, probably a little too enthusiastically. It was a bit embarrassing really, sharing to this boulder of a man how pretty I thought she was, how much she smelled like wildflowers and how she humored all my dares in exchange for the cherry-flavored candies from the tin. That was one of the things I hated most about my lolo : he showed a side of himself to me that nobody else gets to see. Not a governor. Not an employer. Not a patriarch. Don, to me, was a grandfather. “I always knew you were gonna make something of yourself here, Cath. It’s where you belong. It’s your home.” I said “To be honest, I never understood why you were always dreaming up a place that’s everywhere but here. I mean, you were practically obsessed. Why would you ever want to leave here?” I continued “Like I said Georgie, I was always running. From one end of the estate to the other, I would trace the shape of this whole place. Exacting its borders.” The sadness in her voice surprised me. I never really got to know this side of her. When we were together as children, she always made it a point to put her lively, cheerful self forward. It was infectious. But there’s something else too; An edge to her voice, a faint trace of anger I can’t place. Again, I wouldn’t know–I’ve never known her to be like this. “You make it sound like a cage.” I say with slight humor, trying to lift the mood, wipe away the fog— “Isn’t it?” she cuts, “When you know there’s so much more out there? When you know there is a chance for you to grasp that promised life? Freedom, family, enlightenment” she continued, unyielding.

“I-I don’t understand…I know it was far from perfect, but so is everywhere else. Here, your family had a home, a stable job, plenty of open space to run around. You could’ve had all of that here. Besides, isn’t real life the best teacher? Overcoming hardship is part of building a good life. And you have, I mean, look at all of this.” I said pointing around the coffee shop. “You haven’t changed Georgie, not one bit after all.”she said as she motioned to stand. “Wait, Cath, I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we just… Can we start over?” “Start over” I overheard my grandfather say to the duplicator once. Back then, he had a copy of every key to every room in his mansion and every tenant’s house under his estate. During the summer, my grandfather made the farmers harvest at night, instead of the day to beat the heat of the sun. It was unorthodox, but efficient. And the tenants would have no choice but to leave their children sleeping in the safety of their huts as they work the fields. At night, without fail, he would eat dinner with us, strap the circlet of keys to his belt next to his holster and go out to inspect the grounds, not returning until the early hours of the morning. “How?” Cathy says “Start over how, George? There’s nothing here but scorched earth.” “That can’t be true. I mean, remembering is a matter of choosing, isn’t it? We can choose to protect the happy memories. Keep them from being tainted by the tragic ones,” I reply, desperate to hold on to the happiness of my childhood. “Choice was always your privilege George, not mine.” She replied bitterly, her gaze trailing to the rough, craggly road outside. I follow her gaze, and as I do so, she turns to look at me. It’s funny, that road. Back when I was young enough to still be interested in her stories, my grandma said that that part of the woods was an entrapment of restless souls, doomed maidens with a score to settle. She used to tell me to cover my eyes to ward off their wrath and despair. Funny, maybe grandfather had his eyes closed when he drove the car right into the trunk of a tree on the bend just further out from here. “Hey Cath, can’t we just catch up and have a good time? That was so long ago there’s nothing I can do. What do you want from me?” “I want to know why you’re here?” she asked

PANANAW XV “What do you mean?” “If not to remember, then why come back?” Why did I come back? The night my grandfather died, the house burned down with my grandmother in it. The papers were abuzz with the news, and the estate and all its hectares of sugar crop were abandoned. It took a few years to settle the paperwork containing the liquidation of Don and Doña Carreon’s assets. Shortly after they were transferred to us in Boston and it funded my stint at university and my dad’s mayoral run in Manila. It took a while to pick ourselves back up but life is good now. We’ve moved past it. I thought I was coming back here to tie up loose ends and leave it behind for good, but now, I realize I can rebuild it. Remake it. Better than my grandfather ever could. It is our legacy after all. “I came here to protect what’s mine. Ours Cathy. This is your home too. Help me to restore its glory. We’ll make it right this time.” I say, invigorated with a new vision. She’ll see it the way I do, I know it. Just like she always did when we were kids. “You said you knew it was far from perfect. Do you really?” “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m gonna be better than him. I’m gonna build something stronger…and you’ll be part of it too.” “I want none of it George, no part of it.” “But don’t you see Cath-” “Like I said, this is not my home…this is my cage.” she said Just then, A sudden movement in the treeline caught my eye and I snapped my head at immediate attention. “I-I think I just saw…I saw…” a shadow? A shape lurking in the trees? A looming darkness that churned in the pit of my stomach… “You should stop seeing things that don’t exist. Stop reminiscing about the past and dreaming up a future that isn’t there.” Twenty summers ago, on the end of my last visit, she stopped coming to play with me. I was hurt, betrayed, demanding an answer: Why? “You’re my only friend here, and you’re leaving me!” I said, stomping my feet, prickly tears turning my face red with agitation. “I’m not leaving you, Georgie. How can I? You’re the one who can leave and I’m the one who can’t.” “Then why won’t you play with me?” I said, throwing the can of cherry candies to the ground in a fit. “If you can’t leave you might as well play with me. You have to do as I say or I’ll tell on you!” “No, please don’t do that!”

“Then come play with me!” “I-I’m really sorry Georgie, but I can’t.” “It’s almost dark. He’s coming soon. He wants me here. He comes every night to check.” She said in a barely audible whisper. That was the first time I saw her well and truly scared. Cathy, my fearless, unstoppable Cathy who held spiders in her bare hands, who could run for miles without tiring, who dreamed of firing jet planes soaring high, high above in impossible speeds. “Who? Who does?!” I demanded, holding on to her wrists. “The Shadow Man,” she answered before turning to run. The Shadow Man was the Northern Regions’ bogeyman—worse than any Nuno, Engkanto or Aswang . Legend says that the Shadow Man could see everything and everyone- where they went, who they talked to, what they did. He could command you to do his bidding with a raise of his voice. And people who crossed him men, women, even children- were killed by putting his long gnarled forefinger through their head. Rumors of corpses mysteriously found with nothing but a hole in the center of their temples were told by elders to keep their children from running around at night. And though I knew it was just an urban legend, that story always haunted me more than any other supernatural tale in our region. I was distressed, angry, running back towards the field, towards the house, and planting my sobbing face on the skirt of my mother as she bent down to wipe my tears with her hands. The adults gathered around us in the foyer to ask me what happened, and through sniffs and whines, I was able to make out a jumbled remark about Cathy and The Shadow Man. My grandfather, in a sudden outburst of rage and alarm, yanked my shoulders off of my mother and shook me, asking me what had Cathy done? What had she said to me? “Papa!” my father cried out in alarm. “Javi, stop!” the Dona said, the sophisticated Manila accents of everyone in around me suddenly switching to Ilocano, “ Hijo , answer your Lolo” I was scared of getting Cathy in trouble. But at that moment, I was even more terrified of the look in the Don’s eyes. So I told them what Cathy told me: that a monster is holding her captive. “Ay, Dios Mio !” my Lola said, sighing exasperatedly, all the tension in the room breaking in an instant. “Sinasabi ko na nga ba eh” she said “Kalokohan na naman.” she said in crass colloquial slang so rarely heard from the Doña who

PANANAW XV always made it a point to embody high society manners as the ladies in Manila did. “‘Nak, I know she’s your friend, but you really shouldn’t believe everything she says”, my father said. “That girl is just like her mother. Spewing nonsense here and there. It runs in the family, their talent for story-telling” Grandma continued. “Haven’t we had enough of this? Every time re-election rolls around they like to open their goddamn mouths. What is it this time? A scholarship here? A raise there? The same old thing—do they think we’re made of money? Demanding brats!” “Pa, let’s just eat, ok? Let’s not do this tonight of all nights.” my mother said. “You’re right, Hija , you have a lot to pack” my grandfather said, his demeanor softening. But the angry light in his eyes never left. That night, as usual, he left with the keys after dinner, inspecting the grounds while we were busy shoving our life into a suitcase until well-past midnight. I was busy sneaking candies off the shelf when I heard a knock on the kitchen backdoor. I flung it open, bathing Cathy and her sorry state with the light from the room. “I’m sorry, Georgie, I’m so sorry,” she said, “You’re my only friend too. Please, help me! I don’t know who else to turn to.” “Help you how?” “Take me with you! Take me to school with you! We can even be seatmates-I’m sure they’ll let me in if you say we’re friends.” Cathy said, dreaming up a plan on the spot, “He-He’s coming for me, the shadow man.” “That’s silly, Cathy. I can’t do that even if I wanted to. Besides, there’s no such thing as The Shadow Man. You’re seeing things.” The woods around our house always scared me, but that night, it seemed more frightful than ever. The trees seemed to be taller, and the shadows emerged darker, hungrier, clawing toward the haunted look in Cathy’s eyes. “George Carrion, you’re needed upstairs.” My grandfather demands, suddenly appearing from the shadow behind me. I saw Cathy’s eyes grow wide with fear as I looked between her and the Don. Obediently, I followed my grandfather and turned my back on Cathy heading toward the mansion’s staircase. When I looked back again, Cathy had already fled.

As the Don drove us to the airport, that image of her was burned into my mind. Little did I know that that night would be the last time he would ever drive that jeep, and that the news of my grandparents’ deaths was what would greet us in Boston. The townsfolk whispered. And whispers made their way to the papers. They say it was the work of encantos , of nunos , and the all-seeing boogeyman. How a nameless girl’s body was found mutilated by the woods. How the tenants were possessed with an unexplainable desire to kill and so they rioted with pitchforks at hand towards the mansion. The police report said they were called in order to quell the mass hysteria but by the time they arrived, the rioting tenants had fled, never to be found again. According to the investigation that followed, the only evidence of the incident was the mansion’s ashes. For the months that would follow, I would wake up from nightmares of shadows, trees, despairing voices and burning fields. I haven’t had a nightmare in years. And now, all of a sudden, they’re appearing before me wide awake. In an attempt to calm my paranoia, I fixate on other things trying to distract myself. The trees outside are all strangely perfectly symmetrical, identical in height, shape and width. Their leaves and branches are unwaveringly still, but the tablecloths and curtains by the window sway without a breeze. I train my eyes on the shelves; Those baubles are strange indeed. Among the assortment of objects were a pair of cabochon emerald earrings I could’ve sworn were my mother’s and the Swarovski cufflinks my father used to wear everyday to work. On the highest shelf stood the heirloom painting framed in gold that my grandmother inherited from her father-the one that burned down in the fire, and right next to it was....my grandfather’s circlet of keys and a tin can of cherry candies. My head snaps toward Cathy as the sudden shriek of the kettle rings in my ear. The mingling smell of coffee and wildflowers grow pungent, overpowering, like the inside of a funeral home. Everything suddenly becomes overwhelming. And I fight to steady my breathing and focus on the words Cathy is saying to me. “You know the cost at which it came with, and yet you are still your forefathers’ son?” she said pointedly, her face calm but her eyes seething fury. “We are what we’re born to be, Cath,” I said in reply—because it was true. It’s what I’ve always known. Everyone had their rightful place in the world.

PANANAW XV “Must we be? Isn’t who we are a choice? Who and what we stand by a choice?” she said. “Do we stand by our family because we know they’re right, they’re good? Or do we stand by them because they’re ours, all we have until the end? Then we choose to believe they’re good regardless,” I spat back, tears forming in my eyes. Cathy paused to assess me, assess my answer, scanning every inch of my face with inscrutable eyes. I half expect her to answer back at me, perhaps lash out at. Because I do know the cost my family’s legacy came with, and it was hers that paid for it. Instead, she smiles, that beautiful smile of hers, and says: “I’m so glad you found your way here, Georgie.” The sound is sharp, empty, like an echo trying to reach across a void. Her lips bloom plummy as wine as she opens it to reveal two rows of perfectly straight white teeth. Her neck reveals a strange map of green veins like chlorophyll on vines and the red poppies on her dress seem to be spreading outward. Her nails grow talons, sharps as thorns and her dark brown eyes blacken, dilating wide with a look akin to hunger. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time.” Before I can register what’s happening, she lunges at me with inhuman speed. I fall backward, a sharp, burning pain in my neck rendering me paralyzed on the floor. I raise my hand to meet it and draw back blood, gushing like a waterfall. The pain travels to my chest, abdomen, fingertips and I can’t help but let out a scream as roots horrifically erupt from my torso. Thick and gnarled, it gnaws at my intestines, liver, lungs, and throat until everything grows black. “Blood is the debt you owe us George. Now we both get what we want. You stay here and I’ll be free.”

February 12, 2012 Search for Missing Carrion Turns Sour One week after he’s been reported missing, the search for Carrion grandson, George Carrion has had an interesting turn of events. According to the witness statement of a local private transportation driver, Carrion, who is currently running for a senatorial seat, was last seen on the road a few meters away from the estate’s entrance where he was dropped off. Authorities; however, are looking further into the credibility of the witness’ accounts as he also included ramblings of a mysterious Mahogany tree at the exact spot of Carrion’s drop-off, which he claims, was not there before. Local Police Chief Nap Nazario said locals around the area are prone to superstition and the paranormal and they might consider the witness statement as hearsay if it continues as such. The most pressing issue concerning the investigation; however, is the discovery of several shallow graves around and within the estate. Over the past few days, several SOCO vans and NBI personnel have arrived on the scene. There were reportedly several dozen exhumations conducted over the course of three days and reopening of a case of disappearing tenant farmers from 20 years ago. Nazario or any member of the investigative team have yet to confirm or comment on the matter.

PANANAW XV February 13, 2022 Hacienda Memorial Marks 10th Anniversary Yesterday the ceremony celebrating the 10th anniversary of the Liwanag Elementary school was held on the school courtyard. The school, which was built 10 years ago in honor of Catherine Liwanag, a young daughter of a tenant farmer and one of many victims of the Carrion estate, hosted the site visit of the living relatives and members of the tenant community of the former hacienda to unveil the plaque memorializing the tragedy of the Carrion Massacres. The school, now home to around 1000 students from farming families across the province, was built on the land of the former Carrion Hacienda, which remained untouched for 2 decades after it burned down and it’s tenants disappeared. When asked if he has any qualms about building a school and such an important monument on land previously thought to be cursed by locals and as such was famously avoided like the plague, Ka Manny Asuncion, leader of the province’s farmers’ union and chairman of the school’s board of trustees said, “Plague? No. The only plague we face is a plague of forgetting. And through our school, we hope to eradicate such egregiousness against the lives lost in our community. Though, I admit, there used to be a lot of talk about this land and the forest around it, we’ve debunked that myth. Ever since we started construction more than 10 years ago, we’ve found no evidence of such superstition. The place is quiet. It is quite peaceful, beautiful. The perfect environment to raise future generations of our community.” For those eager to visit the memorial site, the building is only a short drive from the town square into the mountain pass and just up ahead the narrow asphalt road from the Mahogany tree at the school compound’s entrance.

LimbagAlisin by Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo

Pinapasadahan ng “LIMBAG—ALISIN” ang ilang hitsura ng ating kinabukasan mula sa isang kasalukuyang muwestra: ang pagpapatanggal ng NTF-ELCAC at CHED ng mga ayaw nilang libro mula sa mga aklatan. Mula sa anyo ng kuwadradong sator, sinusubukang harapin kapwa ang pagbubukas at pagsasasara ng mga posibilidad.

PANANAW XV

LIMBAG—ALISIN ni Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo

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Daanan ni Felise Calza

Minarapat ko nang magtanong. Halos hindi ko makita yung dulo ng highway na ito. Anlamig pa, anlamig masyado. Pakiramdam ko iilang saglit na lang, Makikita ko na yung signage na minarkahan ko. Subalit kapos, hindi ko makita. Binaliktad ko na yung t-shirt ko, Naisip kong baka may maligno akong nainis, Tapos ngayon nanggugulo. Mukha namang malinaw yung mapa na dala ko. Yung mapa, Pamana lang sa akin ni lolo. Ginamit ko na lang din para wala nang away. “Boss, gaano pa kalayo yung exit? Kanina pa po ako dumidiretso eh.” “Sa’n ba destinasyon mo?” “Dito po.” Tinuro ko yung lugar sa mapa. Lumaki yung mata nung manong na pinagtanungan ko. Pero mukhang hindi siya nagulat. Umiling-iling na parang hindi bago ang nasaksihan niya. “Ma’am taga-rito ako. Mali-mali ho yung mapa niyo. Iniba na mga pangalan ng street. May mga gawa-gawa lang na landmark. Tsaka yung mga likuan, inalis.”

PANANAW XV

Tinuro niya kung saan ako pupwede umikot. Nagpasalamat ako. Nginitian niya ako, Tumango siya nang may pawis sa noo kakaturo ng mga posibleng direksyon. Pinaandar ko ulit yung kotse, Kamay sa manibela habang inaalala yung instruksyon. May likuan. Inuulit-ulit kong sambitin na may likuan. Masaya man akong may maiikutan ako, May parte pa rin sa akin na nasasayangan sa gas Naisip ko rin na dumiretso pa rin, Dulot ng lungkot para sa oras na naitapon ko. Kaya ba naroon si manong kasi alam niyang maraming naliligaw doon? Ayun na yung likuan.

PANANAW XV

Pagitan ng Panahon ni Daniella Bianca Agatep

Humarap ka! Dinig ang kalansing ng mga nag uumpugang barya kasabay ng pagtakbo ang paghahabol sa pumapalyang hininga humahangos, nakagapos, nananatiling kapos Ang pagitan ng kasakiman ay dekada ang pagguhit ng mga latay ay kasabay ng paglathala; araw-araw na gunita sa nakaraan ang kasalukuyan hindi nalalayo ang hubog ng hulmahan Kasakiman ba ang hangarin ng pag-aaklas? Ng pagpapabagsak sa inuuod na silya ng sistemang bingi’t lumpo? Kahinaan ba ang pag-aasam ng panatag at malayang bukas? Kahibangan ba ang pagtanaw sa tapat na hinaharap? Ang pundasyon ng kalayaan ay hindi swerte sa roleta mga butil ito ng pawis, mga mantsa ng dugo, mga tagpi ng nawasak na pangarap; Ang pag-alala ay posible sa hindi pagkalimot, ang pagharap ay katapangan ng hindi pagtalikod Damhin ang dalamhati ng kahapon, dahil hiram natin ang ngayon sa naka pangakong bukas.

ABANTE! An Interactive Art Session on Forum Theather nina Pat Gregorio, Edie Palo, Roma Villareal

“Forum Theater” is defined as a form of theater that encourages audience interaction and explores different options for dealing with a problem or issue. This theater form, innovated by Augosto Boal as a technique under “Theater of the Oppressed,” is often used by social groups to engage audiences in different real-world problems and to help them understand these situations and creatively explore solutions to these problems. It uses what we call an “Anti-Model”, which is an inciting incident where the protagonist will be put in a dangerous position beyond their control — a conflict that has no positive resolution. These scenarios often portray microaggressions toward the minority; subtle injustices that often go unnoticed but ultimately contribute to the larger conflict. The goal of Forum Theater is to “rehearse” possible incidents so the people involved can all brainstorm ways in which we can be better allies for each other and help the protagonist avoid the irreversible, dangerous situation where they will find themselves later on. During our performance, we first ran our anti-model, composed of two consequent scenes, for the audience before asking for any volunteers. In this case, however, our audience aren’t just spectators, they became spect-actors. After running the anti-model, their job is to intervene in the situation and introduce a new character or story beat that would avert the escalation of the conflict. To do this, the spectators—who became “spect-actors” in this case—need to improvise their way through the scene once they feel like what was shown is already enough to stir a conversation. This is important because forum theater is defined by its ability to encourage interaction between the performers and the audience. Achieving the goals set by the forum theater performance rests in the audience’s ability to discern what to do in these kinds of sudden instances. For our performance, our volunteer spect-actors Chrystel and Kring respectively played and introduced a new character for each scene. It’s especially important to note how they caught the 27

PANANAW XV nuanced and layered issue of gendered bathrooms — a scenario that comprehensively encapsulates the intersecting issues relating to Sexual Orientation, Gender Identity, and Gender Expression (SOGIE) in the country. We chose this in time for 2021’s Trans Awareness Week. It is no secret that the LGBTQIA+ community, particularly for the trans and gender-variant people, still suffer from the consequences of the lack of gender-sensitive training and policies that cater to their safety and wellbeing. However, it’s also impossible for us to acknowledge that such issues of the LGBTQIA+ community intersect with the broad mass struggle. The struggle for a progressive SOGIE isn’t only a struggle for one’s self and identity. It’s also a social, political, and economic struggle for our country.

SCRIPT PAMAGAT:

Abante!

ISINULAT AT GINANAP NINA:

Pat Gregorio, Edie Palo, Roma Villareal

MGA TAUHAN TRANSWOMAN adult; nakaranas ng transphobia JANITRESS middle-aged; malapit nang masisante SUPERVISOR middle-aged; representative ng kumpanya T A G P U A N

Mall / CR kung saan pinaalis si TRANSWOMAN matapos gumamit Mall / Office kung saan ipinatawag si JANITRESS ni SUPERVISOR

MGA ILANG BAGAY Ito ay hango sa tunay na kwento ng viral video ni Gretchen Diez na nagdulot ng isang mahalagang usapin sa mga patong-patong na isyu na hinaharap ng mga kababaihan.

SCENE 1

[Pre-set: Mall CR Background] [Spotlight TRANSWOMAN] [SFX: Toilet Flush] Sa isang CR ng mall na walang tao, lalabas si TRANSWOMAN sa isang cubicle para maghugas ng kamay. Sasamantalahin niya ang pagiging mag-isa sa loob para maging kumportable. Habang naghuhugas ng kamay mapapa-ugong pa ito ng isang pop song. Patingin-tingin rin siya sa salamin para i-check ang kaniyang make-up. [On-Cam JANITRESS] Nagreretouch siya ng lipstick nang biglang pumasok ang JANITRESS bitbit ang isang mop. Mapapatigil ito sa pagsipol nang maaninag ang mukha ni TRANSWOMAN habang nilalagay ang mop sa dulong cubicle. Kakabahan ng kaunti ang TRANSWOMAN pero tutungo na lamang siya sa JANITRESS para batiin. Kukunot ang noo ni JANITRESS. Tititigan niya ang TRANSWOMAN ng ilang saglit bago tangkain lumapit.

JANITRESS

(Mahinahon) Hello Sir! Mawalang-galang ho pero bawal ho kayo gumamit ng pambabaeng banyo.

TRANSWOMAN

Sorry, pero bakit?

JANITRESS

Ang banyo po ng babae ay pambabae lamang.

PANANAW XV TRANSWOMAN

Yes, and?

JANITRESS

Hindi po pwede dito ang mga bakla. Mas okay na lang pong lumipat na lang tayo sa PWD kung ayaw ninyo sa mga panglalaki.

TRANSWOMAN

Don’t worry, ate. I’m a transwoman.

JANITRESS

Kaya nga po, hindi pa rin po kayo pwede dito.

TRANSWOMAN

What do you mean hindi pwede? Anong part ng transwoman ang hindi mo naiintindihan? (Saglit) Konting respeto naman. Nanahimik lang ako dito.

JANITRESS

Kayo po ang kailangan rumespeto. Sinabi na nga pong bawal ang mga bakla dito. Pag may ibang nangyari o magreklamo, kami po ang mananagot.

TRANSWOMAN

Again, ate, I identify as a transwoman. Ibig sabihin babae ako. Hindi ako “Sir” tulad ng tinawag mo sakin kanina. At bilang babae karapatan kong umihi sa CR ng mga babae.

JANITRESS

Sir, may utin ka pa rin ho. At iba ang banyo ng may mga utin. Pero kung ayaw niyo po dun, gaya po ng sabi ko, may PWD naman.

TRANSWOMAN

Whatever, ate. Kung ayaw mo kong respetuhin, edi wag. Basta alam kong hindi ako nagkakamali sa paggamit ng banyong ‘to. (Babalik sa pagme-makeup)

JANITRESS

Sir, kung hindi po kayo aalis ay magpapatawag na po ako ng security. (Saglit) Sumusunod lang po ako sa patakaran.

TRANSWOMAN

Security?!

Mapapatigil si TRANSWOMAN sa pagbanggit ni JANITRESS ng security. Ilalabas niya ang kanyang cellphone para kuhaan ang nangyayari.

TRANSWOMAN

Ayan, sige. Kanina ka pa, ate ha. Ayaw mo talaga makinig. Gusto mo pa akong ipasecurity. Kailan pa naging krimen ang pag-ihi?

JANITRESS

Yang pag-video niyo po krimen! Bawal po yan!

TRANSWOMAN

Hindi! Ngayon mo sabihin yung mga sinabi mo kanina! Na hindi ako welcomed dito! (Saglit) Oh, ngayon di ka makaimik? Kasi alam mong mali yung ginagawa mo. Kaya mo naman palang hindi maging transphobic eh!

JANITRESS

Oh, sige, Si- (Iiling) Ma’am, pinapalipat ko lang po kayo ng maayos! Kung ayaw niyo po makinig, tatawag na po ako ng security! Dahil bawal rin po yang magpipicture pa kayo ng mukha ko!

TRANSWOMAN

Ay! Hindi to picture, live ‘to! Kaway ka! Para makita ng mga tao kung gaano kayo kasahol.

JANITRESS

(Tinatakpan ang mukha) Itigil niyo na po yang video! Bawal nga po yan! Nakaihi na naman po kayo, umalis na lang kayo!

PANANAW XV

TRANSWOMAN

Oh, ngayon alis na lang ako? Akala ko ba tatawag ka ng security? Ha? Ang lakas-lakas mo kong palayasin kanina. Ngayon gusto mo umalis na lang ako—

Lalapit si JANITRESS kay TRANSWOMAN para tapikin ang kanyang cell phone. Galit na pupulutin ito ni TRANSWOMAN sa lapag. Bubuksan niya ulit ang kaniyang live para itapat sa mukha ni JANITRESS. JANITRESS

Ah, ayaw mo talaga ha! Sige, halika dito! (Lalapit kay TRANSWOMAN at hahagipin ang braso. Kakaladkarin niya ito palabas ng banyo) Ako na mismo magdadala sayo sa security! Sinabi na ngang bawal ang mga bakla! Dapat marunong rin kayo rumespeto ng mga totoong babae!

TRANSWOMAN

(Mangangawa) Wag mo nga ako hawakan! Tangina! San mo ko dadalhin? (Saglit) Gusto ko lang naman umihi, ate! Ang sahol mo! Kakasuhin talaga kita, hayop ka! Ipapahiya kita sa buong mundo.

JANITRESS

Manahimik ka! Ayaw mong sumunod ha! Yung mga totoong babae hindi na makaihi dito dahil sayo!

[Off-cam TRANSWOMAN and JANITRESS] [Remove TRANSWOMAN from Spotlight]

SCENE 2

[Pre-set: Office Background] [On-cam SUPERVISOR] [On-cam JANITRESS] Papasok ang JANITRESS sa opisina ng kanyang SUPERVISOR. Kinakabahan.

JANITRESS

Magandang umaga, Ma’am.

SUPERVISOR

(Kalmado) Josie, alam mo na siguro kung bakit kita pinatawag dito. Napagdesisyunan ng management na tanggalin ka na bilang janitress dito sa mall.

JANITRESS

(Magugulat) Ma’am, bakit naman ganun? Ang tagal ko na pong nagtatrabaho dito. Hindi na po ba pwedeng pakiusapan ang management?

SUPERVISOR

Nalagay kasi sa alanganin ang reputasyon ng mall dahil sa nangyari. Bilang supervisor mo, pinaglaban kita pero mag-isa lang kasi ako.

JANITRESS

(Naluluha) Ma’am, sumunod lang naman po ako sa patakaran ng mall na ang CR ng babae ay para sa babae lang. Ganoon din po sa lalaki. Ano pong naging kasalanan ko doon? Wala naman po akong alam sa mga trans trans na ‘yan. Paano naman po pag iba naman ang magalit sa akin dahil nagpapapasok ako ng bakla o tomboy sa kahit anong CR. Ano ho bang tama, Ma’am?

PANANAW XV SUPERVISOR

Eh kung ako man, sa tingin ko hindi naman sobrang mali ang ginawa mo. Kahit ako naguguluhan. Pero gaya ng sabi ko, hindi naman papayag ang mall na walang managot sa nangyari. Pasensya ka na... ganun talaga.

JANITRESS

Ma’am, dalawa po ang anak ko. Mahirap pong maghanap ng trabaho sa panahon ngayon. Parang awa niyo na po... baka pwede pa po sila pakiusapan? Tulungan niyo naman po ako...

SUPERVISOR

Hindi naman ako ang may hawak ng desisyon, Josie. Kung gusto mo, pwede kang sumulat sa nakatataas. Ipapaabot ko, pero hindi rin tayo sigurado kung pakikinggan ka nila. Pasensya na…

[Off-cam JANITRESS] Mangingiyak-ngiyak na lalabas ng opisina ang JANITRESS.

Abante, an interactive art session on forum theater, took place last November 26, 2021 via Zoom. It featured an originally written script, staged and performed by Pat Gregorio, Edie Palo, and Roma Villareal as part of the requirements for a HUM 102 (New Media Art) class. The session concluded with a talk back session with other members and participants from the audience.

Watch the full performance at https://tinyurl.com/AbanteFT or by scanningABANTE! the QR Code below An Interactive

Art Session on Forum Theather

SCAN ME

Watch the full performance at https://tinyurl.com/AbanteFT or by scanning the QR Code above

This was written last May 9, 2022 as we were expecting the election results

Taimtim na Pag-iisip ni Ron Jay Dangcalan

Sa mga butil ng luha at kaba ng dibdib, umaagos at tumitikbok ang nagising na pag-ibig. Ang pagmamahal na pinamalas higit na malalim. Minahal ang kapwa at ang sinisintang bansa. Lakas inialay upang bayan maging dakila. Lubhang masakit sapagkat lubos na nagmahal. Mga adhika, umaagos sa bawat butil ng luha. Sa bawat pintig at sakit ng dibdib, mga pangarap na gumuguho sa gabing madilim. Sa bawat pagpindot ng letra, taimtim na nag-iisip. Ano ang bukas at para saan pa? Lahat ang pumili ngunit bakit kay hapdi? Ano nga ba ang dahilan bakit nagkamali? Sa pagpinta ng likha, may pinapadama. May bulong si Bathala sa kaluluwa. Nagwagi man ang berdugo, lahat pansamantala. Sapagkat katarungan ang maghahari sa magpakailanman.

PANANAW XV

Ang mga anak ng bayan susuyurin ang puso. Titingnan ang nakaraan, upang mayroong matutunan. Kikilos ng mas may pagpapakumbaba. Sasambit ng mga salitang may pagmamahal sa kapwa. Papanigan ang katotohanan gamit ang malikhaing mga gawa. Mas lalalim ang pananalig sa dangal ng katuwiran. Gagawa ng matuwid sa kabila ng pang-aapi. Titindig ng mapayapa at mariin laban sa karahasan at paghihiganti. Itutuloy ang mga nasimulang gawain at bayan palalayain. Palalayain Palalayain Palalayain Palalayain

sa panlilinlang. sa kasakiman. ang puso mula sa galit at paggawa ng dahas. ang bayan gamit ang daan ng katuwiran.

Matapos lumuha, titindig at kikilos. Kakamtin ang bayang pinapangarap ngayon at sa malapit na bukas din.

Cebu, Pebrero 1986 Noong ika-26 ng Pebrero 1986, tumungo sa lansangan ang mga Cebuano upang ipanawagan ang pag-boykot sa snap elections ni Ferdinand Marcos, Sr. at pigilan ang pagpapatuloy ng kanyang diktadurya.

Mula sa The Freeman

PANANAW XV

Cebu, Pebrero 2022 Biguin ang Tiraniya, Umanib sa Hanay ng Masa: Isang araw bago ang ika-36 na paggunita sa EDSA People Power Uprising I, tumungo sa lansangan ang mga progresibong grupo sa Cebu mula sa iba’tibang sektor kasama ang kumakandidato sa Senado na si Elmer “Ka Bong” Labog upang ipanawagan ang pagbigo sa tambalang Marcos-Duterte ngayong Eleksyon 2022. Mahigit tatlong dekada na ang nakakalipas ngunit patuloy pa rin ang panawagan ng malawak na hanay ng mga Cebuano sa kasalukuyan laban sa pagbabalik ng tiraniya at diktadurya sa bagong mukha ni Ferdinand Marcos Jr. sa tulong ng kapwa pasistang angkan ng mga Duterte. Kuha ni Ace E. Quijano

Settled by Daphne Sandoval

‘Settled’ is a series of counter-maps of New Clark City (NCC) superimposed on portraits of displaced Aetas due to the intensifying impacts of the development project spearheaded by the Bases Conversion and Development Authority (BCDA). It reimagines these counter-maps in a future where Aeta communities had reclaimed their land and resources. The superimposed portraits depict ownership, bringing to light the faces that rightfully own the domains they have tilled and defended for decades and centuries across a history of colonizers. The portraits featured are those of tribal chieftain Petronila Capiz-Munoz of Sitio Sapang Kawayan, Capas, Secretary General of Central Luzon Aeta Association (CLAA), Edwin Danan and Aeta resident, Tatay Nelson of Sitio Alli in Capas.

Ang tulang ito ay isinulat noong ika-limang araw ng Abril, kung saan kasalukuyang nagaganap ang Grand Rally ni Vice President Leni Robredo sa Antipolo, Rizal.

Bukas

ni April Rose Quinto Cañete

Sa ilalim ng malakas na ulan, nagtipon ang libong sambayanan. Iisa lamang ang ninanais, makulay na bukas para sa atin. Tulad ng walang humpay na iyak ng kalangitan, ang pag-asam ng bawat Pilipino sa tapat na pamahalaan. Kaya’t kahit pagod, gutom at lamig pa ang kalaban, balewala ito sa sino man. Hindi na muling papalinlang, dahil natuto na sa nakaraan. Eto na ang wakas ng gobyernong laganap ang katiwalian, Mga buwayang politiko ay wala nang lugar na paglalaruan. Sama-sama at pagtutulungan natin, ang kinabukasan nating hinahangad. Sabay-sabay nating iangat, ang estado ng buhay nating lahat. Walang maiiwan o iiwanan, sa pagkakataong ito, Pilipinas naman. Isisigaw at maninindigan, na ang lahat ng ito ay para sa bayan.

Kuha ni John Michael Silerio

MGA MAY-AKDA F l o ri a n e T. T a r uc Instagram: @awreathia Blog: https://plumaria4569650.wordpress.com/blog/ Floriane T. Taruc is a third-year student from UPLB College of Veterinary Medicine. She believes that one need not choose between science and art; humans are not black and white. These days, she takes solace from a particular line of Max Ehrmann’s Desiderata: “With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.” She writes short stories, poems, and essays, and is one of the first prize winners of the 2018 Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awards for Literature.

Mac Andre Arboleda Sites: www.sickinternet.me Asshulz.net Mac Andre Arboleda is an incoming student at the Universität für Weiterbildung Krems, Austria under the Media Arts Cultures Erasmus Mundus Joint Master Degree program. He loves his dog Feebs and his niece Claire and is currently based in San Pedro City, Laguna. *** “How to Write History” is an ongoing project where I explore and contend with the loss of historicity under the violent Duterte and Marcos regimes. The image is a phone screenshot of a webpage I made, taken in May 12, 2022 that was only accessible via a local hotspot at the Kunstverein Wagenhalle e.V., Stuttgart, Germany through a Raspberry Pi Network. The work was presented as part of the exhibition “Assemblies, Swarms, and Intricate Webs – no solidarity exists in a social void” curated by Jazmina Figueroa and Denise Helene Sumi, and was borne out of a workshop facilitated by artists Dina Karadzic and Vedran Gligo. The workshop entitled “Pivilion – Your Darknet Pocket v

Gallery”, was based on the idea of utilizing multipurpose, low-cost, SoC computers as autonomous digital arts darknet gallery servers (https://pivilion.net/read-me/)). This work was temporarily accessible through Tor (The Onion Router), “a worldwide network of servers used by people who want to greatly increase their privacy and internet freedom.” The project takes off from an earlier work entitled “Family Remembrance” in which I installed a customized gravestone at the Laguna People’s Rally in Nuvali, Sta. Rosa that had the words “Career ni Bongbong Marcos” engraved—less than two weeks before the deciding presidential polls. I gave out fliers documenting the atrocities under Martial Law, and invited attendees to offer flowers and mourn. A week after photos of the gravestone were widely shared on social media, a coordinated burst of pro-Marcos content targeting people and images that had to do with the gravestone appeared almost all in the same day. In a Raspberry Pi Network, artworks and other forms of content can be decentralized, uncensored, and secure, making new possibilities for historical production against corporate-owned, state-influenced platforms such as Facebook, YouTube, TikTok, and Twitter, which populists like Marcos Jr. and Duterte have used to produce denialists, instigate hate, and win history-making elections. Just last June 2022, the Philippines’ National Telecommunications Commission ordered internet service providers to block websites of independent media critical of the government, including the websites of progressive women’s rights groups, fishers’ groups, and academic magazines. I’m interested in how we can creatively archive and collectively write histories on our own terms, against systemic, organized forgetting.

A l j h o n A c e C. S a g ui d Aljhon Saguid is a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine (D.V.M.) student in the University of the Philippines Los Baños. His “The Restoration” is a narrative poem composed of rhyming free-verse couplets. It follows the story of the warbird nicknamed Ferdie , which after getting destroyed by tragedy and fate, has been restored anew by destiny, first as Rody and now as Bongbong. It ends with a resigned call to submit to governing authorities without resorting to blind obeyance. Da n a J e a n L . Ca b a l za Dana Jean L. Cabalza is a 3rd-year BA Communication Arts student at UPLB, previously published under PDI Youngblood. When not otherwise occupied by dissociative daydreams, sifting through pop culture memes, and raging against current events, she can usually be found writing non-fiction essays, short stories, and poetry. “Remembering” is a product of such daydreams, rage and the oral tradition of folklore passed down from her Cagayan roots. De n n i s And r e w S . A g ui na l d o Nagtuturo ng mga kurso sa sining at panitikan si Dennis Andrew S. Aguinaldo para sa Departamento ng Humanidades, CAS. Naging fellow siya ng mga palihan para sa malikhaing pagsusulat: AILAP, UST, UP, at IYAS. Nag-iimbak siya sa tekstongbopis.blogspot.com at may mga nailathalang piyesa online sa Daluyan, ACT Forum, hal., Busay, {m}, at Plural. May-akda siya ng mga aklat na “Shift of Eyes” at “Bukod sa maliliit na hayop”. F e l i s e J a n e B . Ca l za Instagram: @felisec.alza Felise Calza or “Fels” is a writer currently taking up Communication Arts. At present, she is trying new forms such as blackout poetry and collaborative playwriting, but she also enjoys reading short stories and Bildungsroman lit. Her favorite themes to employ in her works are about mental health, growth, and romance. J o h n L e s t e r Ce nti no John Lester Centino was born on March 22, 2022 in Buenavista, Bohol. In high school, John was in a Special Program in Journalism student at Tanza National Comprehensive High School. John also

used to be a cartoonist and joined the Collaborative and Desktop Publishing team to compete in a competition. John contributed to the school newsletter publication. Currently, John is a BS Computer Science freshman at the University of the Philippines Los Baños. *** “Searching the Facts in the Sea of Lies” is an editorial cartoon concerning fighting trolls and fake news peddlers. The collective collaboration of every Filipino alongside the civic-integrity teams of social media platforms is needed to overcome the widespread distorted truths, holding a torch of fire that signified the rekindling spirit to stand and fight for the truth. The woman leading the charge are civic-integrity teams of social media platforms and the people who have opened their eyes, fighting against distorted truths using facts. Da n i e l l a B i a nca A g a te p Danye is a 20-year-old Nutrition student who loves to eat junk. She has been writing poems as far as her hello kitty journal can remember, but it is her first time getting published. She also performs spoken poetry, with the corners of her room as audiences. She cannot express her emotions through actions, so she writes. Writing is for her mental health, me thinks. P a t Gre g or i o Pat is a graduating BA Communication Arts student at UP Los Baños. She has theater experience in performance, directing, production management, and design; but she enjoys stage management and music the most. Pat is also a Soprano 1 and the current Executive Secretary of the UPLB Choral Ensemble, a GABAY Volunteer under UPLB’s Office of Counseling and Guidance, and a resident member and former music director of the UP Broadway Company. She currently works as Assistant Teacher and Production Assistant under Director Steven Conde for Plugged in Plays Workshops, as Theater Teacher at Gideon Academy, and as Social Media Manager for DreamBox Creatives. Edie Palo Edie Palo is a trans writer and artist from the University of the Philippines Los Baños. She is currently part of UPLB Perspective’s editorial staff and is currently the Managing Editor of its folio Pananaw for its fifteenth issue. As a writer, Edie is dedicated in bringing trans

and queer voices to front pages. Roma Villareal Roma Villareal is a graduating student from the BA Communication Arts Program, and a former President of the UPLB Com Arts Society. As a Theatre Major, Roma had been spearheading productions as a Stage Manager, Production Manager, and Director since sophomore year, and was also an actress herself in several theatrical performances in UPLB. Today, Roma continues to promote performing arts and its intrinsic importance to the society, as well as its role in letting one’s voice be heard by exercising freedom of expression. Kyle Ramiel Dalangin Kyle is a BA Communication Arts student who loves to write articles about gender and sexuality, mental health, and popular culture. Her interests also include analyzing social and cultural phenomena. She is fond of reading books in young adult and mystery genres. She started writing as a feature writer when she was in fifth grade. Karma Kolektib KarMa Kolektib Facebook: Karma Komiks Twitter @karmakomiks Email: kartunista.manunulat@gmail.com Nag-alab ang Kartunista-Manunulat Kolektib sa UP Los Baños noong 2006 bilang isang samahan ng mga artista-manunulat. Naglalayon ang kolektib na ito na palawigin at palaganapin ang makabayang kultura sa pamamagitan ng komiks. Ron Jay P. Dangcalan Ron Jay P. Dangcalan is an Assistant Professor at the Department of Social Development Services, College of Human Ecology, and a Specialist at the Interdisciplinary Studies Center for Water, University of the Philippines Los Baños. With academic training in both Humanities (Liberal Arts) and Political Economy, his academic interests include political theory, international affairs, disaster risk management, and climate change .

A c e E . Qui j a no Ace E. Quijano is a student of BS Human Ecology at the University of the Philippines Los Baños. She hails from Cebu and was one of Sea and Terrestrial Protectors (STEP) Philippines’s roster of young Eco-Ambassadors. She also makes time to do political work and from time to time, contributes to community publications and national dailies. In the future, she seeks to do more mass work. Da p h n e Sa nd o v a l Daphne Sandoval majored in Social Technology in the College of Human Ecology at the University of the Philippines Los Baños. Much of her academic training in Social Development is incorporated into her artistic work. She is a servant to a tailless dog and a master of font-hoarding. *** ‘Settled’ is a series of counter-maps of New Clark City (NCC) superimposed on portraits of displaced Aetas due to the intensifying impacts of the development project spearheaded by the Bases Conversion and Development Authority (BCDA). These counter-maps were a product of the initiatives of Counter-mapping PH Network who worked together with a group of local Aeta residents to identify the scale of the landscape conversion of affected Aeta communities within and around the borders of NCC. It mapped the farm lots bulldozed by the BCDA, the flattened and excavated mountains and hills, and, the facilities (golf courses, apartment buildings, sports complex, etc.) of the NCC that have made an impact on the resource usage, economic networks, and land value of Aetas in the area. What this piece does is reimagine these counter-maps in a future where Aeta communities had reclaimed their land and resources. It is a reflection of their aspirations and demands materialized through a map. The superimposed portraits depict ownership, bringing to light the faces that rightfully own the domains they have tilled and defended for decades and centuries across a history of colonizers. The portraits featured are those of tribal chieftain Petronila CapizMunoz of Sitio Sapang Kawayan, Capas, Secretary General of Central Luzon Aeta Association (CLAA) Edwin Danan and Aeta resident Tatay Nelson of Sitio Alli in Capas. They had engaged in dialogues, protests, and research activities to assert their people’s rights. Chieftain Pet stated that “We are not anti-development. In

fact, we want the government to build schools for our children. But if their concept of development means uprooting us from our land and wiping Ayta Hung-ey out, then we are anti-development.” Counter-mapping has been a practice of co-production wherein communities appropriate the state’s techniques of formal mapping and create their own maps as alternatives to those used by the government. Mapping methodologies can be both scientific and creative— from discussions to drawings. Arnisson Andre Ortega, the principal investigator of the research argued that “Maps are the product of struggle ...The BCDA has [its] own map and [its] own master plan, a narrative about how it wants to project the place, and we also have our accounts in partnership with the community.” In response to the rise of development aggression projects, or ‘development’ projects that violate the human rights of poor populations, countermapping activities have been an avenue to articulate land claims and experiences of dispossession. It has also served as an opportunity for consciousness-raising and alliance-building with the affected communities. To date, the NCC project continues its development aggression but, Aeta communities remain vigilant in protecting their ancestral land. References: Manalansan, C. (2022, March 1). ‘Green City’ drives violence on environmental defenders. *Bulatlat*. https://www.bulatlat. com/2022/03/01/green-city-drives-violence-on-environmentaldefenders/ Subingsubing, K., & Ramos, M. (2019, July 25). Philippines’ New “Green City” to Disturb Eco-Balance, Community Resilience. *Philippine Daily Inquirer*. https://earthjournalism.net/stories/philippines-new-greencity-to-disturb-eco-balance-community-resilience The Counter-Mapping PH Admin. (2020, June 29). Countermapping New Clark City – Phase 2. *Counter-Mapping PH*. https:// countermappingph.xyz/counter-mapping-new-clark-city-phase-2/

A p ri l R o s e Q ui nt o Ca ñe t e April Rose is currently a freshman student at UPLB taking a Doctor

of Veterinary Medicine. She writes poetry as a hobby and mostly during her free time. She once dreamt of being a journalist when she was a child for she was influenced when she competed in various journalism contests. She is also a former editorial-in-chief, student leader, and girl scout from elementary up until her high school days. J o h n Mi c ha e l S i l e r i o John Michael Silerio is a student from the University of the Philippines -Visayas Campus taking BA History. K e n n e t h Ry a n C. F e b r e r o Instagram: @kennethryan.f Kenneth/Feb is a struggling 3rd-year Vetmed student who suffers from back pain due to online classes. He strongly believes that education, especially media literacy, is the best vaccine from the spreading disease of fake news which is being used as a tool for historical revisionism. On the first day of returning to physical classes, you may see him eating three packs of pancit canton at CKD. M a g p i e s P r e ss Instagram: @magpiespress Twitter: @magpies_press Site: https://cargocollective.com/magpiespress Magpies is an artist collective and small press initially based in the University of the Philippines Los Baños dedicated to collaborative practices in independent zine production. Established in 2013 initially as a poetry workshop and independent publishing collective, Magpies has now turned to more transdisciplinal projects that take off from DIY publishing. They work on DIY publishing as an artistic-activist organizing production that conditions new possibilities of textuality and creative relations. They run initiatives for community exchange, such as Zine Orgy (since 2015), a biannual artist expo, The Basement (since 2018), a platform for critical conversations on culture, and Deep Thought (since 2016), fora on works in progress. *** Members of Magpies Press created a flier that appealed for solidarity and action among artists, acquaintances, and friends living abroad. We find it crucial, establishing solidarity not only inside the country but

also outside, and cultivate the groundwork for justice and reparations of both our pasts and futures disfigured by decades of violence, curtailing of freedoms and the undermining of truths and history. These fliers were printed and distributed in Stuttgart, Germany, Sarawak, Malaysia, and soon Bangkok, Thailand, Jakarta, Indonesia, and Linz, Austria. The distribution of fliers opened up conversations with people (identities withheld to protect their privacy) from different countries such as Ukraine, Brunei, the USA, the UK, and Indonesia about the political situation in the Philippines, and possibilities for future collaborations to translate the fliers to different languages. This is part of a larger work-in-progress. For more information on how to contribute to this initiative, send an email to werememberph@protonmail.com

PATNUGOT NG PANANAW XV P uno ng P a t nug o t K a p a t nug o t T a g a p a m a ha l a ng P a g nug o t Pa tnug o t sa P a ni ti ka n P a t nug o t sa Di b uho K ap a t nug o t sa Di b uho P a tnug o t sa P a g l a l a p a t K a p a tnug o t sa P a g l a l a p a t P a g nug o t sa O nl i ne K a p a t nug o t sa O nl i ne T a g a p a m a ha l a ng P i na nsy a M g a K a wa ni

Dana Stephanie Sandoval Jolyssa Gundayao Edie Palo Bea Rabe Jael Apostol Nikki Bettina Layug Patrick Josh Atayde Gerardo Jr. Laydia Gian Eldrich Sandoval Miguel Adrian Lubag Mark Ernest Famatigan Datu Zahir Meditar Daniel Zachary del Mundo Edan Shadrach Aguillon Federick Biendima Felipa Cheng Jhon Axcel Beltran Khayil Sorima Kyle Ramiel Dalangin Reignne Francisco Toni Dimaano

TUNGKOL SA UPLB PERSPECTIVE Tungkulin ng UPLB Perspective na magsilbi bilang plataporma ng pagsasanay ng mga estudyante sa alternatibong pamamahayag, at pamumuno sa politika ng ideya, opinyon at pagkilos. Kabilang ang publikasyon sa pangunguna ng pagbabandila ng malayang pamamahayag sa pamantasan patin na rin sa pagsilbi sa mga tuntunin nito sa pagtaas ng kamalayan at mobilisasyon ng komunidad ng UPLB. Patuloy na kumikilos ang [P] sa makaestudyante at makamasang oryentasyon. ITINATAG 1973 TAON 48 Ang opisyal na pahayagan ng mga mag-aaral ng Unibersidad ng Pilipinas Los Baños Silid 11, 2nd Floor Student Union Building, Mariano M. Mondonedo Avenue, UPLB 4031 EDITORIAL perspective.uplb@up.edu.ph OPINION opinion.uplbperspective@gmail.com ORGWATCH orgwatch.uplbperspective@gmail.com Miyembro, UP Systemwide Alliance of Student Publicationsand Writers’ Organizations (UP Solidaridad) at ng College Editors’ Guild of the Philippines (CEGP) BEYONCE ANNE MARIE NAVA Tagamapahala ng Sirkulasyon MGA KAWANI Axcel Beltran, Aynrand Galicia, Abel Genovana, Aira Angela Domingo, Alexandra Grace Delis, Aliah Anne, Zyrelle Pine, Allaissa Calserada, Angelyn Castillo, Caleb Buenaluz, Celeste Samin, Charleston Jr Chang, Dana Stephanie Sandoval, Daniel Zachary Del Mundo, Danielle Jorge

SONYA CASTILLO Punong Patnugot

KYLE RAMIEL DALANGIN Patnugot ng Kultura

CLAIRE DENISE SIBUCAO Patnugot, OIC

GLEN CHRISTIAN TACASA Patnugot ng Opinyon

GIANCARLO KHALIL MORRONDOZ Tagapamahalang Patnugot

ARIANNE MER PAAS Patnugot ng Produksyon

MARK ERNEST FAMATIGAN Tagapamahala ng Pinansyal

JONAS ATIENZA Kapatnugot sa Paglalapay

BIANCA YSABEL RABE Recruitment and Training Officer

LEOJAVE ANTHONY INCON Kapatnugot sa Grapiks

ARON SIERVA Patnugot ng Balita

JONEL REI MENDOZA Kapatnugot sa Litrato

GABRIEL JOV DOLOT Patnugot ng Lathalain

KRYSTELLE LACHICA Pagnugot sa Online

Malantic, Dayniele Loren, Denise Kyndler Aguirre, Edan Aguillon, Ej Jo, Emerson Almoguera Espejo, Ethan Pahm, Federick Biendima, Fiona Candice Uyyangco, Fiona Isabella Macapagal, Franklin Masangkay, Ja Fuentes, James Masangya, Edie Palo, Jemelyn Ruth Lacap, Jermaine Valerio, Johanne Sebastian Gonzales, John Paul Famorcan, John Michael Monteron, Jonathan Ray Merez, Josiah Bumahit, Josh Atayde, Katrina Gonzales, Kennlee Orola, Khayil Sorima, Kyela Jose, Kyla Ffyette Adornado, Kyla Jimenez, Laeh Patrick, Loren Joy Verastigue, Ma. Princess Anne Curioso, Ma. Iana Balobalo, Marilou Lorzano, Mark Angelo Fabreag, Marl Vinz Ollave, Maryjoy Nicole S. Abrenica, Michael

Ian Bartido, Michael Christopher Rebullida, Mikko Bartolome, Moesha Cyarisse Estillero, Norland Cruz, Paulette Dela Paz, Paulo Raphael Quintana, Philip Xavier Li, Pierre Ulrich Hubo, Rainie Edz Dampitan, Rainielle Kyle Guison, Ralph Caneos, Reignne Francisco, Reinne Abigail Czarina Espinosa, Reysielle Fernandez Reyes, Roanna Iloiza Vitug, Robert Gallardo, Ron Jeric Babaran, Rosemarie Sollorano, Samantha Grace Delis, Shane Cameron Agarao, Shane Del Rosario, Shelow Monares, Toni Ysabel, Therese Ann Hope Sagaya, Vince Dizon, Yani Redoblado, Zahir Lidasan Meditar