Books

I did the right thing, after all.

Remember my guilt trip in one of my previous posts? I discussed there my treachery, stealing my countless books from my mentor with the absurd idea that I should replace him in case he’s no longer in this world. For years, it has affected me. But what’s bothering is that, although I’ve already confessed this sinister act to a priest, I still didn’t have the heart to return the books. Greed was still there. So in order to get rid of the guilt feeling, I promised to myself that I will never still books again.

Yeah, it wasn’t only my mentor whom I victimized — I also stole books from other people, and from libraries even! I’m such an evil person…

But a few days ago, I realized that I did the right thing. And here’s the reason why…

This mentor I’m talking about is without a shadow of a doubt one of the greatest living scholars of Filipinism we have today. In his house (and in his other apartment complex) are kept thousands upon thousands of books, mostly about Philippine history, literature, and culture. Many of them are rare books. He even had Pablo Pastells’ nine-volume Historia General de Filipinas (yeah, had, because they are now safely tucked in my bookshelf).

I started getting his books back in 2003. Around that time, I was jobless. I ended up assisting him in his various scholarly works, particularly assisting him in preparing the next article for Nueva Era (the only existing Spanish newspaper in the Philippines which just folded up recently). During that time, I was closely associated not only to his works but to his mind as well.

One day, while we were eating lunch at his house, we were talking about his books, his source of his brilliant information on Filipinism which he interwove with his first-rate logic. Respectfully, I asked him what is he going to do with all those books when his time comes. Since he said that his son, who was rehabilitated thrice for drug abuse, didn’t want to do anything with those books, so does his daughter. To be honest, I was expecting him to say that he is going to bequeath all those books to me. But he didn’t. He said that he will just donate all his books to his alma mater when his time arrives. I was hurt, because we both know that I am his closest supporter, his most ardent student, the only person who knows so much about him — his personality, behavior, faults, and most especially, his ideas of filipinismo. But no, he said his books are better off kept in his alma mater’s library.

Just so that I wouldn’t part with his books, I suggested that I contribute my books (which was then between 250 to 500 copies) to his library. He declined, saying that my books are my books, and that they should remain with me.

Again, I was hurt.

During that time, my wife and I only had one child. We never planned to have another one, but it happened. She got pregnant. I was alarmed! I was still jobless. And we were just living in a decrepit bodega that was managed by a bad-mannered tía who never really liked us staying there.

I thought that was it, the end of it all. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a scholar like him, my mentor, the man who I even consider as my own father. But with my wife’s second pregnancy, I thought that it would be impossible to achieve.

I immediately thought of my daughter. What would she become one day? And how about this new baby? I was still an atheist back then, but I was already thinking about their future. Their intellectual future. So one day, I said to myself that if there’s no way that I’d become a scholar (because for sure, I’d lose time and have to focus on work to support my family), then might as well turn my children into scholars. But how?

Back then, I knew that I was the only Filipino left with all this information from my mentor. Precious information, knowledge, wisdom, and literary perspective acquired from Claro M. Recto, Manuel Bernabé, Jesús Balmori, José Rizal, etc. They shouldn’t go to waste.

I thought about the books. And then did the unthinkable.

And for many weeks (or I think months), after doing the tasks he assigned me to do, I brought with me books that I could carry. Nobody in his household noticed because, like what I’ve said, his books are countless. There are even books inside his bathroom and countless more in a storage room in his backyard! Why, even the tenants (my mentor owns an apartment complex) have some of his books hidden inside their respective units.

I just stopped when I thought that I all have the most important books, magazines, and other rare readables that I could gather. Now I have a collection of more or less 2,000 tomes. But I don’t feel proud of it.

Until last week.

Upon employment, I rarely got to visit the old man in his house. If in the past I usually get to see him very day, nowadays it’s even rare to see him once a month. But last week, I got to visit his house once more. And there I spoke with one of his assistants who has been living with him for years as well (actually, this assistant was a schoolmate and a friend of mine also). He confided to me that he’s doing drugs with my mentor’s son, who was a former drug addict! The son was in fact incarcerated in a drug rehabilitation facility somewhere in Parañaque. That incarceration was his fourth.

And this shame-faced assistant admitted to me that he and my mentor’s drug-addict son for some time sold several sacks of books in a junk shop in exchange for drug money.

Shocking. I stole books for a noble purpose. They, including the son himself (who, of all people, should be the one to inherit the books), sold the book just to get high.

There’s goes pieces of true Philippine history down the drain. I’ve been having some sleepless nights just thinking about what they did, what I did, and what I didn’t do.

No, I couldn’t tell this to the old man. My mentor loves this assistant like a son. His fond of him just as he is fond of me. Bacá isipin niyá naninira lang acó, o bacá may interés acó sa mga libro niyá (which is in fact the case).

Thus, I did the right thing. However, even though his son is already in drug rehabilitation, this useless assistant of his, who is unfortunately one of my pals, is still doing crack. Who knows? Even as I type this, he could be selling books right now so that he’d have money to buy crystal meth somewhere in their neighborhood. Such a filthy ingrate.

Shouldn’t that tag apply to me as well? Stealing is still stealing. Cahit pagbalictarín co man ang mundó.

I did the right think, although it’s wrong. But I got to have his books. I have to SAVE them from this assistant and from his son (it’s his fourth; I don’t think it would be the last).

The old man is still strong although he’s ageing (he turned 72 last month). Recently, he had a mild stroke. But like what I said, he is still strong because of his other physical extra-curricular activities which exercises his body.

Nevertheless, he’s already 72. And I am just 29.

He has to give me his books. His library contains very rare and truthful information about our country (much of his books, by the way, are printed in our language: Spanish). I have to have them.

I have to save them.

This time, to steal them is to save them.

Book Reviewed!

Hey! The draft of the biography which Arnold and I wrote was already reviewed by none other than Gemma Cruz Araneta (the Philippines first internation beauty titlist, a historian, and a Rizal descendant — she’s a granddaughter of Rizal’s sister María Rizal). Her review of our opus was published in her “Landscape” column in Manila Bulletin last Tuesday!

My name was mispelled, however, hehehe (now my identity is revealed… but anyway, I don’t have steady readers yet for this English-language blog of mine, hehehe)! It should’ve been José Mario instead of Jose Maria. But that’s just minor. And I hope that doesn’t happen during the publication of the book. 

We appreciate so much Ms. Cruz’s time towards us unknown scribblers.

We’re Done! But What’s Next?

At last, we’re finally done with the draft. And all we have to do now is wait if the Mayor still wants us to make revisions or if we have to add more stuff into his life story.

We’ve been receiving a lot of help, especially from a foreign scholar by the name of Elizabeth Medina. She’s a Chilean writer (with a hot daughter whom Arnold craves so much; the nerve of that MARRIED guy). She’s been editing our work, and is still doing it as I write this. So, before the Mayor sends his biography to the presses, we have to stop him quick and show to him the recent draft edited by a master.

We gave to him the draft yesterday. We had lunch in Starbucks (Arnold said it’s been a long time since he’s been to one; yo también) located somewhere in South Luzón Tollway, La Laguna area. The Mayor has become more like a barkada. He’s so friendly, I’m telling you guys. He doesn’t act like some intimidating rich person. He’s one of the humblest persons Arnold and I have ever met. He still wants a Tagalog version, but the good news is he’s not planning to simply translate our hard-written work into English. He will still publish our work, and have another edition in Tagalog. The problem now is where to look for a translator.

Although Arnold and I speak Tagalog fluently, we couldn’t really write that well. We’re not trained how to. And I don’t think our country’s educational system has any specialized training for the students on how to write creatively and professionally in Tagalog. We tried to translate some sentences in Tagalog, but to no avail. It’s much easier translating English into Spanish and vice versa because they’re cognates. And they both have strong Latin roots.

Now, we wait for the Mayor’s cellphone call for more updates. And we’re both thankful that his oportunista friend was nowhere in sight yesterday. Hopefully, we’d never bump into him again. Well, if Arnold’s car will do the bumping, why not? LOL =)

“One More Challenge!” — But The Challenge Is For Us

“Why not entitle my book ‘One More Challenge’?” the Mayor suggested.

“Uh, sure, if that’s what you want,” I said, doubtfully. “But you see, Mayor, the events which happened in your life is so full of fortuitous dates with destiny. That’s why Arnold and I thought it best to entitle your biography ‘A Date With Destiny’. But of course, it’s still your call”.

After our brief cellphone conversation, the Mayor hung up.

This happened just a few days ago. The Mayor is so eager to see his biography. But we still have apprehensions. Arnold and I aren’t so sure if the ball is in our hands.

Here are the causes of our trepidations…

In my previous posts (09/08/08 and 10/02/08, I’ve mentioned how we came up writing the Mayor’s biography instead of his town’s history which was our real motive. We’re now in the final stages of our first book!

But a seemingly opportunistic character arrived in the scene.

It happened during our final interview that we had with the Mayor last 3 October, a Friday, at the TAT Filipinas Golf Club, his favorite watering hole. We met at the municipal office and rode in his car. A gray-haired, bespectacled man came with us. It turned out that he’s a personal friend of the Mayor.

During our ride to the golf club which was just a few kilometers away from the Población, the Mayor introduced us to him and revealed to him that we’ve been writing his life story. The Mayor told him that we’re “rookies”, that we originally intended to write a history of the town, but he instead convinced us to write his biography. The gray-haired man was listening intently at the Mayor. I whispered to Arnold, “maybe he’s the Tagalista that the Mayor has been talking about”. Arnold was already starting to record with his newly bought tape recorder.

Suddenly, in true opportunistic fashion, the Mayor’s friend said ”cung hindí mo naitátanong, Mayor, I was the editor-in-chief of our school newspaper when I was in college.” And he later on added: “What would be my role in this, Mayor?”

Damn. The Mayor wasn’t inviting him into the project. The Mayor was simply telling him, as a friend, what he has been doing lately with his life.

Subsequently, the Mayor invited him to stay with us just to observe the interview, and to ask from him some comments. Then, this opportunistic guy asked us why we are doing this for the mayor. “Pardon me for my frankness, but you know, I’m trying to protect the Mayor here. He’s been my friend for 35 years. The Mayor and I have a relationship that is beyond a usual friendship”. Whatever that means.

But ain’t he deaf? The Mayor already told him that our original intention was to write a history book, not a biography. Here then, is a classic example of a leech, an oportunista.

I was waiting for Arnold to answer his question “why are we doing this for the Mayor.” But he didn’t; he just kept on tinkering with his tape recorder. Out of courtesy, I simply repeated what the Mayor had said.

At the entrance to the golf club’s lobby, we introduced ourselves formally. I asked him who he is.

“Are you a reporter, sir?”

“No,” he replied with a friendly smile. ”I’m actually a psychology professor.” He introduced himself as Boni. Perfunctory handshakes followed. Me and Arnold started calling him “Bonigago” behind his back. The cabrón deserves the nickname.

Walking toward’s the restaurant, I told him that I’m a nephew of another friend of the Mayor. Hopefully, that would’ve shut him up if ever he’s got any negative intention towards us.

During the interview, he started meddling with our work. He was no longer just observing. He even asked us, for the third time, why we are doing this for the Mayor. Arnold perhaps started to get irritated with either the man’s lack of hearing or comprehension.

“The Mayor couldn’t be any clearer. He simply wanted his life story published.”

I don’t think Bonigags is out to “protect” the Mayor already. He’s trying to show-off about his supposed caring stance towards the town’s chief executive.

We ate first before the interview. Before eating, he let Bonigags lead the prayer. He didn’t make the sign of the cross. A Protestant, I observed. And I almost laughed when, at the end of the thanksgiving, he was holding Arnold’s shoulder (I later told Arnold that he has been blessed by that man, or maybe he’s got the hots for him, hehehe!).

I was the one who started asking questions when the tape recorder started rolling. While I was interviewing the Mayor, the freaky ”observer” was trying to impose to Arnold on what the biography should have. The book should have this, the book should have that. Good thing that Arnold’s good in argumentative situations. Arnold has had training in management at the Colegio de San Juan de Letrán and was a former supervisor in my company. In fact, he’s perhaps the best supervisor our account/department ever had. Many were saddened when he resigned.

Arnold and I shifted Throughout that afternoon interview, he kept on commenting, meddling, speaking nonsense, quoting famous historical lines (Arnold and I introduced ourselves as novice historians, thus he was doing his historical quotes obviously to brag that he himself knows something about history). There was even a point when he made a disgusting and offensive remark that the bioography should be written not just because the biographers needed money. In case he didn’t notice, he wasn’t being frank anymore. He was getting to be a rude person.

More or less, the interview took three hours to finish. The Mayor’s life was quite a revelation. But he repeated most of what he already told us during previous interviews, forcing us to conclude that he really wanted those events to be included on the book no matter what.

We were cautious, of course. During the interview, we found out a couple of controversial events that might harm his reputation (no, he’s not a corrupt politician; we can testify to that). Arnold and I already have adult minds; by simple logical discernment, we obviously know which parts of the interview had to be stricken out of the book. But Bonigago kept on reminding us “that should be off the record.”

Me and Arnold were texting each other surreptitiously. I texted one message to him that I just couldn’t forget: “I’m starting to see this guy already with the head of a chicken cartoon character.”

When the Mayor had a bathroom break, Bonigago said something that really made me see black. He told us to give him a copy of our work so he can edit it, and that he’ll appoint other people, perhaps two to three, to review the biography. He also broached his idea to the Mayor.

This is what we’ve been afraid of all along. Arnold, especially. He was already anticipating this would happen, but we never really thought of a “Plan B” for it.

Don’t get us wrong. Arnold and I are open to criticisms. In the first place, we haven’t published a book prior to this one yet. We’re not really established writers. Aside from the Lord God, the good Mayor was giving us our first break. For that we will be thankful for him for the rest of our lives. But having our work mangled by someone who’s more obscure than us is not just (I even googled his name; even in the netosphere he’s nonexistent).

Arnold and I are confident of our work. We will never allow to have the Mayor’s reputation tarnished, especially since our names will be included in the book. If ever the Mayor gets in trouble with what we have written, so do we. Hence, we’ll never allow that to happen.

Simplemente, we don’t need Bonigago’s help. He’s just a pain in the ass, an opportunist. Surely, he had wanted to be a part of this project ever since he heard from our car ride towards the golf club that the Mayor intends this book to look something like Dolphy’s biography. There was an excitement in his voice. Certainly, he wanted to be part of this project as well.

Call us greedy, but we don’t need him. In the first place, we don’t know him from Mang Kanor. And from the very start, we never felt comfortable with him. There was something really vile and suspicious in the way he talked about his participation. Perhaps he’s a bum, Arnold later told me, and that he’s just staying with the Mayor to “survive” in some way.

If anyone’s going to edit our work, it would have to be the Mayor himself or perhaps his wife and children and other CREDIBLE writers who are better than us. But what we really prefer is that only the factual content of our work should be edited. Our writing style shouldn’t be touched. Admittedly, I was imitating the style of Nick Joaquín, by “thinking in Spanish while writing in English”. I’m confident this Bonigago character doesn’t know a thing about this “Joaquinesque” style of writing. And if that style is mangled, then all our labors will come to naught.

And when the interview was about to end, he borrowed a pen from Arnold and started scribbling notes from a small sheet of paper. From where I sat, I was trying to glance at it, but I couldn’t make anything of what he was writing. I was hoping that it had nothing to do with the book we were writing. But I just couldn’t help suspecting something fishy.

At the end of the interview, he excused himself and cornered the Mayor for a private talk. He said he only needed to talk to the Mayor for five minutes (which eventually turned out to be almost half an hour). They sat a table outside the restaurant. In full view of Arnold; my back was against them. We started talking about our concern.

“I knew it, man! Fuck, we’re in deep shit. This guy is out to get our project from us. I’ve been anticipating that this will happen.”

I told him that, too, that a couple of holier-than-thou and opportunistic mister-know-it-all characters are out to “rape” our work with the possibility of claiming it as their own.

I’m not really sure if it was the book that the Mayor and Bonigago were talking about, but Arnold is certain that Bonigago was convincing the Mayor of his “crucial” participation in it. I just hope that’s not the case. I told Arnold that since that guy’s trying to be frank towards us, I suggested that we might as well be frank to him and tell him what we think. Arnold said it’s too premature. He’s a friend of the Mayor. We have to be careful and patient.

Several minutes later, he returned to our table. He told us that he needs a copy of our work, that we had to make at least three printouts of the draft. The Mayor was already outside. That made Arnold more suspicious. Arnold later told me that perhaps Bonigago had successfully convinced the Mayor that he would be the one to oversee this project.

Man, I was imagining murderous thoughts. The guy had the nerve. A very thick-faced character. He should have been more courteous as to ask our permission if he could join us. If he were that polite, why, Arnold and I could’ve said yes.

While we walked outside the building, I was whispering to Arnold that this is the right time to confront the guy and tell him what’s on our mind. Again, he told me to be patient and cautious.

The Mayor was already outside, standing beside a giant van (looking almost like a minibus). He instructed the driver to bring us back to the Población. He was going elsewhere.

At the van, he was making conversations. I suddenly remembered that he was editor-in-chief of his alma mater’s newspaper. What a braggart. That’s when I got “notorious”. I told him that we’re already established writers in the blogosphere (Arnold and I have many regular readers, to say the least). That I speak Spanish (true). That I was editor-in-chief of our college paper (false; I took the exam thrice but some assholes in that paper deliberately excluded me from the roster; this was already revealed to me by many people). That I have won numerous writing awards in college (true). That I have been contributing articles in major newspapers (true, and they got published). And that we’re good friends with popular historian Ambeth Ocampo (false! haha! we met him only once in Powerbooks Live! in Greenbelt Mall, Makati City).

Hopefully, these credentials would make him shut up and take notice and to perhaps discontinue whatever opportunistic motives he may have with our project. I asked for his alma mater, but out of shame he said it was just a public school. Trying to be a nice guy to this opportunist, I tried to save his shame by saying that many years ago public schools were at par with private ones. He agreed, and that he said UP was perhaps the best public school. This made Arnold and I conclude that the asshole’s from the state university.

And to finally bury his evil intentions to the ground, I told him the name of my uncle who’s even a closer friend of the Mayor: Tío Ramoncito “Monching” Alas (true), who brokered the first meeting we had with the Mayor on 29 August. I boasted to him that the my family is a kababayan of the Mayor’s dad, who’s from Unisan, Quezon (true). And that the Entrepreneur Bank (Rural Bank of Unisan) was just beside my relatives house (true). I even told him that when I was a kid, I used to play at the bank’s porch with my cousins, and that our uncles and aunties kept on scolding us not to play there (true). I even remember seeing the Mayor who once locked the door of the bank after office hours (true).

I was saying all this to him to show to him my affinity to the Mayor, to keep him from touching our maiden work. Nobody needs opportunists in this world.

We all dropped off in front of the town plaza. We said our goodbyes, and gave him the middle finger when he’s gone (how I’d love to do that in front of his face, unfortunately –and fortunately for him– he’s a friend of the mayor). I made the sign of the cross after doing the birdie; I realized that we parted just in front of the Church of San Pedro Apóstol, haha, evil me!

Again, I told Arnold that we should’ve told him what’s on our mind. But he had reason; the moment Bonigago realizes that we’re not eager to work with him side by side, he might screw us more behind our backs. Even if I’m the Mayor’s friend’s nephew, Bonigago is still closer to the Mayor. Puede niyá camíng siraan. Arnold said that it’s better if our enemy thinks that we’re with him. We’ll have to play it safe.

But that night, I read Arnold’s e-mail:

“Fuck man I can’t sleep. The possibilities are out there, it could go for or against our plans. I felt that we have been robbed today in broad daylight! it is as though someone gutted me today!
I’m trying to be optimistic here, but I can’t get myself to think positive. Why? Are we really in such a bad position that even the most agreeable and logical plan is but a hopeless idea, a lost cause?
I have been contemplating on having the writers of the book, San Pedro noon & ngayon, review our work ang get their approval! your thoughts?”

SAN PEDRO, NOON AT NGAYON is a Tagalog history book of San Pedro that was published during ex-Mayor Felicísimo Vierneza’s final days as the town’s chief executive. It was authored by Amalia Cullarín Rosales and San Pedro’s own Sonny Ordoña of Barrio Landayan (in my 09/08/08 post, I mistakenly wrote that the his name is Larry!). It wasn’t sold in bookstores, though. It was only distributed within the town’s municipality.

I thought that it was a good idea. But I’m not sure how these authors would be of any assistance to us.

Throughout the next days, we’ve been working on the biography with preoccupation on our minds. I’ve been sick, literally, several times just thinking about Bonigago and his opportunism. I even silently cried on my station. I forced myself to cry. Para lang mailabás co yung samá ng loób co. Me and Arnold really felt that we’ve been writing this book for nothing. That we’d be giving the draft only to be warped and mangled by this Bonigago character.

And even as I write this article, I have a severe headache. I’ve not been feeling very well these past few days due to overfatigue. Right after my shift (10:00 AM), I’m forced to stay at the office to type because I don’t have a computer at home. My back has been aching. I’ve had a recurring fever. I’ve had sleepless nights (or in my case, days).

Instead of enjoying what we’ve been doing, we’re writing with a feeling of uncertainty and trepidation. We trust the Mayor. He really is a nice person, no pretensions at all. A very humble guy. But we don’t trust this Bonigago friend of his, especially how he cunningly devised a way to get into the project that rightfully belongs only to us.

Now we’re on a “suicide run” because Arnold and I have finally decided on one thing: if the Mayor allows Bonigago and the latter’s “editorial board” to make decisions without our authorization, that is to say, if they edit our writing style, then we’ll walk out of the project. We’ll just leave the work to Bonigago’s hands. Yeah, the Mayor paid us P30,000 bucks already. But we’ve done our part.

And to tell you the truth, our work is even worth more than P50,000 because we really poured everything into it. It was meticulously written. We wrote the biography in an artful way. And I’ve been losing so much time with my family already. I just go home to sleep. Arnold is forced not to look for other jobs yet to focus on this project. He even had a little misunderstanding with his wife who’s in Singapore because she doesn’t approve of Arnold’s “historiographical activities.” And he had to put in the backburner a land problem that he has in Iloílo (his parents’ provincia).

We met with Sonny Ordoña in McDonald’s near Elvinda Village. After browsing through our work, he gave us his comments to it and his personal views about writing a biography. He turned out to be very helpful. An amiable guy. Generally, he’s OK with our work.

We also sent out our work for a very short book review to renowned writers such as our dear friend Señor Guillermo Gómez Rivera, his best buddy José David Lápuz (“International lecturer, Rizalista de la Vanguardia, TOYM political scientist, noted foreign policy expert, Radio Veritas political analyst, and Knight Grand Cross of Rizal, José David Lápuz, UST professor of international affairs and comparative politics, global issues, Philippine government, and Constitution! – ¡oo, talagáng dapat casama itóng lahát capag may introduction sa caniá!), former beauty queen and historian Gemma Cruz Araneta (she already replied to my e-mail, and she even told me that she already met the Mayor personally years ago!; she’s now writing a book review which she told me she’d publish in her newspaper column soon), my Adamson University historian friend José Mª Bonifacio Escoda (author of WARSAW OF ASIA: THE RAPE OF MANILA), US-based linguist Christopher A. Sundita (author of IN BAHASA SUG; he’s also a member of Círculo Hispano-Filipino to which I belong since 2001) and the famous writer José “Butch” Dalisay of The Philippine Star who’s become an e-mail friend of Arnold). I also sent a coppy to multi-awarded writer Joe Bert Lazarte of the SKIRMISHER, one of the Philippines’ most popular blogs (I contribute there during the weekends, or if I have time). Lazarte himself is a credible writer who had already won a Philippines Free Press Literary Award.

Quinapalán co na talagá ang mukhá co sa canilá.

With the exception of Mr. Dalisay, all of the above-mentioned writers and scholars know me personally (I haven’t met Chris and Gemma personally, but we’ve been e-mailing and d, opportunismebating for years about various Philippine historical topics in Círculo Hispano-Filipino). Now these are the most credible who should have the authority to scrutinize our work, not someone like Bonigago who probably has been asking favors from the Mayor just to bring a can of sardines back to his hut. And once we receive favorable reviews from the above-mentioned established writers and scholars, man, I’d figuratively slap those book reviews into Bonigago’s face! But I might do that literally if he’s become already blatantly offensive.

These are all the travails that has beset us in writing our first book. It’s not an easy one, especially for me because I work full time in a call center. And, contrary to Bonigago’s pariníg, we don’t intend of asking for more money from the Mayor (but if the Mayor insists, who are we to decline? hehehe…). Seeing the book with our names on it and published the way we wrote it is more than enough.

*******

A couple of day’s ago, at Tuding’s in Muntinlupà City, Arnold and I were discussing the possibilities of our first book venture. We’ve been getting paranoid already. What if Bonigago wins and that the book would be printed without our names on it? Or equally worse, that he’d have his name included with ours?

Our self-imposed deadline on passing the final draft is today. Later, at around noon, we’re going to meet up with the Mayor. We haven’t received the book reviews yet from Señor Gómez et al. But we couldn’t wait for them anymore because the Mayor couldn’t wait to have the draft as well (he’s asked for it many times already). Certainly, there will be revisions from him. And we’re supercool with that of course.

But with that gago friend of his, we’re not.

I told Arnold that the Mayor wanted his biography to be entitled One More Challenge. I still think that the title A Date With Destiny is closer to the events of his life. Fortunately, during the above-mentioned cellphone conversation, he gave me the go-signal to think of whatever title that may seem fit. But his One More Challenge should appear on the book cover.

Thus, the working title is: A DATE WITH DESTINY (One More Challenge!) The Life Story of San Pedro, Laguna Mayor Calixto R. Catáquiz.

While eating our porkchops, Arnold noted something about the title. “You know, man, I think that title that he wants doesn’t apply to him.”

“And why is that?” I said while slicing the soft and tasty porkchop that has made Tuding’s popular in Muntinlupà and northern Laguna.

“I think this ‘one more challenge’ perfectly describes our plight and not his. We’re the ones who are being challenged here,” he laughed

“Yeah, right”.

And so we’ll see what will happen later.

Anxiety

Some time ago, my friend Arnold, who was a Team Leader (equivalent of a supervisor) in our call center resigned from our office. As of this moment, he’s a full-time writer/historian. We’re currently working on our first book which is about the biography of our town’s mayor. Not really something that one might call scholarly since it’s basically an “ego-booster”, so to speak, for the said politician. But despite all that, this politician’s a nice guy. And he’s the one who gave us our first break to get published. We’re not from some fancy school. We don’t have scholarly credentials aside from the four-year-degree diplomas we got from our respective universities. And we don’t have other connections to get published. This “break” we did on our own because we’re the ones who went to him in the first place — well, not to ask him for us to write his biography, but to write the history of our town.

I envy Arnold because he’s working full time on this project. Me, I still have to fight away the sleepiness after my night shift. Good thing Arnold gave me the password to his internet access here in the office. But the problem is, right after my shift at 10 AM, my head either dreams about the land of sleep, or the land of porn (hyuk-yuk-yuk!). I sometimes rest my head on whatever CSR desk I choose, fall asleep, and then wake up an hour or two with an aching back. Like what I’ve said before, I can’t afford to leave this job especially since my wife’s pregnant again (ang sipag namin, ¿no?).

So that’s what has been keeping us busy all these weeks. We’re trying to beat a self-imposed deadline because the mayor wants his biography to be launched just in time for the town fiesta this coming February. According to my partner Arnold, who’s got friends in the printing business, it takes up to two months just to publish even a minor book! Man, this politician mustn’t have any idea at all about the length of time it takes to publish a book! Now, we’re in a time quandary. But still, I think we’re doing progress.

We only got to start out last 29 August, making this project –as I’ve boasted once to Arnold– one of the most fastest-written biographies in the world. Another problem we have is that the Mayor is one of them “unlettered guys.” He’s not an avid reader. He didn’t even finish the samples of the book we’ve written about him. And worse, he wanted his book written in Tagalog. He told that to us when we’ve already written much about him.

Arnold and I weren’t trained to write in Tagalog. I think most Tagalog-speaking Filipinos today aren’t well-trained to write in their vernacular. ¡Caramba! I believe the case is much worse for other non-Tagalog Filipinos. Are they even being trained to write in their vernacular. Look at F. Sionil José. He’s an Ilocano, but he’s not articulate in his native language, being trained in English. And he admits that sad fact.

Anyway, the Mayor doesn’t seem to be all worried about that. But worried us is that he said he’s got a translator friend, a Tagalista, who can help us to translate his work. That didn’t sound right for us. We couldn’t even get out of this project anymore since he already paid us P30,000 grand. Of course we had to accept; we’re not rich kids in the first place. And that’s not bribe money, as well; it’s our first pay check as writers! Yay!

But back to the sad part. The uncertainty of seeing our names printed in this book looms in the air. What if he double-crosses us? The suspicion couldn’t be waived off because of the immediate trust he gave us in publishing his life story. I mean to say, he’s a longtime politician, a rich businessman, and one-time general manager of a prominent governmental department. He could’ve easily gotten himself a prominent writer to the job for him, right? Or maybe he trusted us that easily because he’s a friend of an uncle of mine.

Is this kind of anxiousness normal for writers who’d get published for the first time.