LARITA KUTSARITA'S SPOONFULS: The Many Lives of Mere Mortals

Tuesday, September 9, 2008

The Many Lives of Mere Mortals

“Kamusta love life mo?” And so that incredibly most-asked question pops off somebody else’s potty mouth again. Why is it so embedded in our culture that we find ourselves each of our own partners? It’s like we are not allowed to be independent and complete individuals. Coupling up is the most normal thing that you can get yourself into, which leaves “singling down” to be as serious as a brain tumor. And one more thing: why do we refer to our romantic affairs as “love life?” Who knows, people could be asking just to gain a hint about whom you’ve recently slept with (for the common casual “shaggah”), or whose pockets you’ve been sticking your little hands into (for the Holly Golightly’s of today). Why do we have to compartmentalize life—abstract as it is—into little “sub-lives” that we think will make the big picture seem a lot clearer, the scheme a lot less complicated? Why do we have “spiritual life,” “sex life,” “night life,” “academic/work life,” “social life,” “org life,” and God-knows-what-else-is-there-kind-of-life? I find it downright silly that we should be treating LIFE as a huge puzzle that can only be solved by putting in the littler “life” pieces as we see fit. One day you’re into God, and then you’re into that random guy dancing next to you at the bar, the next.

You only let your friends become bad influences if you see them as some kind of escape from all your problems in your scholarly pursuits, man. Sure, you go have a hell lot of fun, but really, is it necessary to be one different person in each of your presupposed compartments? It sort of lessens the sincerity of living life itself, doesn’t it?—well, since you can only devote so much time to just one part. Why not live the whole sum of its parts and quit splitting yourself out among the rest? They say it’s easier to be focusing on one thing at a time, but when the focus has become too, I dunno, “focused,” that you prefer to forget all the rest of your life for the meantime, it sort of betrays the essence of living, doesn’t it? Oh, but here I am, talking about how it’s best not to live life, when I should be busy just living it, myself. Bollocks!

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IT IS A CRIME TO REST

Of all the speeches I have ever read, this one--a Response Speech upon receiving the
1985 Ramon Magsaysay Award for Journalism--from a great Filipino artist has made the deepest mark in me. It sings to my soul, reverberates with my heart, and enlightens my mind. Mr. Lino Brocka, thank you for lending me the words that I could not articulate for myself, and for providing me a reason to keep fighting. Kung mayroong paraan upang mamulat nang ganap, hindi ito ang pag-aninag sa liwanag kundi ang pagharap sa dilim, at ang paghahanap ng bukang-liwayway--tunay, puro, at dalisay.

The filmmaker, like his peers in the other media, now realizes that the artist is also a public person. He no longer isolates himself from society. Instead of working in his ivory tower he is a citizen of the slums, of the streets, of the battlefields if need be. The artist is becoming a participant. He tries to be true, not only to his craft but also to himself. What he says on the screen, he also says in the streets. For it is the supreme duty of the artist to investigate the truth no matter what forces attempt to hide it. And then to report this truth to the people, to confront them with it. Like a whiplash it will cause wounds but will free the mind from the various fantasies and escapist fares with which "the establishment" pollutes our minds.

To the best of our abilities, and even if we often times fail, we must produce films that will hurt, films that will disturb, films that will not let you rest. For the times are bad and, given times like these, it is a crime to rest. We cannot rest, and should not, while there is a Filipino starving in Negros, an Aquino crying for justice, a victim of police killing lying in a garbage heap. Although it is the duty of the artist to work for what is true, good and beautiful, first we must expose and fight what is wrong.

In these times, when the government-controlled media hide the truth, when most of what we get is silly gossip, pretty flesh and sensationalized crime, we must go to the streets to find out what is happening. We must listen to those who dare risk their lives and livelihoods, who reiterate once more the utmost duty of the artist, that he be a committed person, taking the side of any human being who is violated, abused, oppressed or dehumanized, and that he use whatever instrument is his--the pen, the brush or the camera.

I accept this award for all such artists, dedicated persons whose names may never be known or published, doing their share, whether inthe streets or in prison camps. Some of them may even have died, or at this very moment be fighting for their lives. This award then is for these artists.

They may gag and blindfold you, silence and imprison you, but they will never be able to destroy what made you an artist in the first place--your brave and continuing dedication to the human race.

Together with you I thank the Ramon Magsaysay Award Foundation for telling us that we should continue our work.