Have you seen any mural by Enrique Liborio Ruiz?

Charcoal study for "Mindamora" (1928)

He was a senior high school student at Far Eastern College when Enrique Liborio Ruiz took nighttime courses under Fernando Amorsolo, I.L. Miranda and Vicente Rivera at the University of the Philippines School of Fine Arts.  Upon graduation, he and his parents went to the United States and enrolled at Yale University where he got his bachelor’s degree in fine arts.

"In Doubt" (June 1930)

In Yale, his interests got diverted to architecture and mural paintings, visiting public buildings in America noted for their mural decorations, and during vacations, working with acclaimed muralists Eugene Savage and Ezra Winter and stained glass window maker Emil Zundel.  Galo B. Ocampo (1939) would later note the influence of Savage and Winter in the mural paintings he was doing in the Philippines.   

June 1930 Panel

July 1930 Panel

In 1927, he met Juan Arellano, supervising architect of the Bureau of Public Works at that time, who was visiting New York.  Arellano encouraged him to study Javanese art, telling Ruiz that this is best suited for the Philippines.

Ruiz was back in the country in January 1930 after his graduation and a tour of the art scene in Europe. He got employed with the Bureau under Arellano, already the Chief Consulting Architect of the Government, to prepare mural decorations for public buildings.  Even at that time, funding for such endeavors was hard to come by, and there’s no knowing if the Ruiz plans ever got to be painted, and if so, did they survive the bombing of Manila or the scourge of time?

January 1931 Panel

In June 1930, he did the front page cover “In Doubt” of Philippine Magazine, which editor A.V.H. Hartendorp said was the portrait of a Filipino lady that Ruiz met in the US while he was in Yale.  The artist would do a series of twelve decorative Filipiniana panels for the magazine from June 1930 to May 1931 (5 of them shown here).  [Who could be keeping them?]

Ruiz did not stay long with the Bureau.  In 1932, he was already running his own business company devoted to decorative work and murals, and an early work was at the University Theater on Taft Avenue.

February 1931 Panel

This company could be this "group of artists [that] included Vicente Manansala, Victor Loyola, Marcelino Sanchez, Arsenio Capili, Lu Ocampo and Recarte Puruganan doing mural paintings with muralist Architect Enrique Ruiz as contractor and designer,” which Martino Abellana, known as the dean of Cebuano painters, joined early in his career. The group was  able to finish two big murals before the outbreak of World War II -- a religious mural at the San Marcelino Church and the mural of the Time Theatre.  This group or Ruiz himself could have done the mural in the Manila Hotel and in a room in Malacanang.  [Are these works still around?]

In his column City Sense in the Philippine Star (2008, December 27), Paulo Alcazaren wrote about the “magnificent mural” at the Time Theater comprising three panels:   ‘The right panel features the “Vision of the Architect,” …the central panel tells the story of “The Wooing of Maria Makiling” … [and] the left panel portrayed “The influence of film,” showing the “producer upholding the contribution” of his art, the scripts, cameramen, actors and a “family”of artists towards the production of the movies shown in the theater.’  

April 1931 Panel

Hartendorp (1930) listed some works that Ruiz did in the United States.   They should still be around:

1.  “Mindamora” (1928, New Haven), “a painting showing the legendary queen of Mindanao receiving tribute from Sulu. A Korean friend posed for one of the male figures, but the magnificent queen was drawn without a model and entirely from his imagination.”

2.  “Radha Darshan” or “Call of Love” (1929) drawn from Hindu mythology, which was exhibited in the Grand Central Galleries in New York, and which won the second Prix de Rome, offered to American art students by the American Academy in Rome.

3.  “Saras Vati” (1928), “a small jewel-like painting of the Hindu goddess of culture.”

4.   A commissioned work foe a Connecticut millionaire, “an allegorical painting, representing modern New England, for his private library”

5.   “The Holy Family”, stained glass window of the Holy Ghost Church, Edgewater, New Jersey (executed before he returned to the Philippines)

Sources:

1.  Hartendorp, A.V.H. (1930, June).  Enrique Liborio Ruiz, Painter. Philippine Magazine. 27(1):14-16.  Retrieved from The United States and its Territories, 1870-1925: The Age of Imperialism at http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acd5869.0027.001.

2.  "Four O'clock in the Editor's Office." (1932, February). Philippine Magazine. 28(9):488.  Retrieved from The United States and its Territories, 1870-1925: The Age of Imperialism at http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acd5869.0028.001.

3.   Ocampo, Galo B. (1939, October). Mural Painting in the Philippines.  Philippine Magazine. 37(10):408-409,421.  Retrieved from The United States and its Territories, 1870-1925: The Age of Imperialism at http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ACD5869.0036.010.

4.   “Martino Abellana, Dean of Cebuano Painters”.  Cebu Artists Inc. Retrieved from  http://cebu-online.com/cai/abellana/abellana.php

5.   Alcazaren, Paulo. (2008, December 27). “The best of times (first of two parts)”. Common Sense. The Philippine Star. Retrieved from http://208.184.76.175/Article.aspx?articleid=427046

Haw, haw, the Karabaw. Part 3.

Haw, haw, de karabaw, bantuten!

If there's one specie in the Philippine biota that became extinct within the country's recent memory, it's the wild carabao/water buffalo.  It was a game animal, and the Indios (before they rectified the tag to Filipinos) hunted them on horseback and with a pack of dogs to sniff them out and bring them to the open for the lasso-ing. They didn't use guns until probably when they got to learn the art of an easy kill from the white man! 

In the 1930s, wild buffalo hunting was still a touristic come-on alongside that for wild boar, deer, crocodile and the rare tamaraw of Mindoro, as can be gleaned from the visitors' guide to Manila and the Philippines put out by the American Express Company: 

"There is wild boar and deer to be found in nearly every province of the islands and in some of the remote parts carabao and crocodile are quite plentiful. On one of the islands there is a rare species of big game to be found. It does not exist in any other place in the world except on the island of Mindoro. It looks similar to the Carabao or Water Buffalo, somewhat smaller but much more ferocious, and is known as the "Tamaraw." A bull tamaraw will kill the largest carabao in a fight and has been known to chase a whole herd of wild carabao. The wild people in this province are also afraid of these animals and are often caught unawares and gored to death. The open season on Deer and Wild Carabao is from January 1st. to May 15th, on Tamaraw, July 1st to December 31st in 1935 and each fifth year thereafter. There is open season on wild pigs at all times."

"A good hunting ground," wrote John Foreman (1906) was "Nueva Ecija, near the Caraballo de Baler Mountain."  He conceded that buffalo-hunting was a dangerous sport, and it could either bring death to the "infuriated beast" or the hunter himself.

These "mountain buffaloes ... have singularly large horns, three times the size of [the Europen breed]," the Jesuit Fr. Pedro Chirino (1604) said, with "remarkable skill in striking with these horns."  This did not scare the Indians and Spaniards from hunting them because "their flesh, whether fresh or dried, is as good as the most excellent beef."

Our Indio ancestors domesticated the calves of wild carabaos to become their slow, patient, reliable and water-loving heavy worker in the farms.  That explains why in some early photographs, these animals had long horns.  When rinderpest almost decimated all the domestic carabao population in the early 1900s, cross-breeders were imported from India, thus setting on the genetic modification of the length and curvatures of the native horns, among other anatomical structures.

The Frenchman "prince of Jala-Jala", Paul de Gironiere (1855) had his wild carabaos illustrated with long horns in his Philippine adventure book.  His account of wild buffalo hunting in Maragondon is still the best we've read. It's the certain bragaddocio that he put into it that kept us cynically amused. After his first buffalo head, he felt superior to his "Indian" exploration and hunting companions who were reluctant to let him go on a perilous "combat" with the wild buffalo. 

Gironiere had to show he was a dexterous and good horseman before he was allowed to lead nine huntsmen and a small pack of dogs in his hunting debut.

"The buffalo is hunted on horseback," he wrote, "and taken with the lasso, the Indians not being much accustomed to the use of guns. ...My faithful Indian was much more anxious about my safety than his own. He objected to my taking a gun; he had little confidence in my skill with the lasso, and preferred that I should merely sit on horseback, unarmed and unencumbered in my movements; accordingly I set out, with a dagger for my sole weapon. We divided our party by threes, and rode gently about the plains, taking care to keep at a distance from the edge of the wood, lest we should be surprised by the animal we were seeking."

In this hunt, he became "a mere spectator look[ing] on with admiration at this combat--at those evolutions, flights, and pursuits, executed with such order and courage, and with a precision that was truly extraordinary." Eventually, the beast was lassoed successfully, immobilised, his long horns hacked off, and carried off between two domesticated carabaos to the village where it was killed and the meat divided among the hunters.

Gironiere was the star in the next combat.  He had to show that he was "at least equal to the best and bravest of all my Indians ...not only equal but superior in the struggle." 

"... I took advantage of the terror they had of this animal," he wrote, "and one day declared, with the utmost possible coolness, my intention to hunt one. They then made use of all their eloquence to turn me from my project; they gave me a very picturesque, but a very discouraging description of the dangers and difficulties I should have to encounter, especially as I was not accustomed to that sort of warfare,--and such a combat is, in fact, a struggle for life or death. But I would listen to nothing. I had spoken the word: I would not discuss the point, and I looked upon all their counsels as null and void. My decision was right; for these kind counsels, these frightful pictures of the dangers I was about to incur, had no other object than to entrap me; they had concerted amongst themselves to judge of my courage by my acceptance or refusal of the combat. My only answer was to give orders for the hunt. I took great care that my wife should not be informed of our excursion, and I set off, accompanied by half a score Indians, nearly all of whom were armed with muskets. Buffalo hunting is different in the mountains from what it is in the plains. On the plain one only requires a good horse, with address and agility in throwing the lasso; but in the mountains it requires something more: and, above all, the most extraordinary coolness and self-possession are essentially necessary.

This is the way in which it is done: the hunter takes a gun on which he can depend, and places himself in such a position that the buffalo must see him on issuing from the wood. The moment the animal sees him, he rushes on him with the utmost velocity, breaking, rending, and trampling under foot every obstacle to the fury of his charge; he rushes on as if about to crush the enemy, then stops within some paces for a few seconds, and presents his sharp and threatening horns. This is the moment that the hunter should fire, and lodge his ball in the forehead of the foe. If unfortunately his gun misses fire, or if his coolness fails him, if his hand trembles, or his aim is bad, he is lost-Providence alone can save him! This was, perhaps, the fate that awaited me; but I was resolved to tempt this cruel proof, and I went forward with intrepidity-perhaps to death. We at length arrived on the skirts of an extensive wood, in which we felt assured there were buffaloes, and here we halted. I was sure of my gun, and I conceived I was equally so of my self-possession; I therefore determined that the hunt should be conducted as if I had been a simple Indian. I placed myself at the spot where it was fully expected that the animal would come out, and I forbade anyone to remain near me. I ordered everyone to his proper place, and I then stood alone on the open ground, about two hundred paces from the borders of the forest, to await an enemy that would show me no mercy if I missed him. It is, I confess, a solemn moment, when one stands between life and death by the more or less certainty of a gun, or the greater or less steadiness of the arm that holds it. I was, however, perfectly tranquil. When all were at their posts two hunters entered the forest, having first thrown off some of their clothing, the more readily to climb up trees in case of danger: they had no other arms than a cutlass, and were accompanied by the dogs. A dead silence continued for upwards of half-an-hour; everyone listening for the slightest noise, but nothing was heard. The buffalo continues a long time frequently without betraying his lair; but at the end of the half-hour we heard the repeated barking of the dogs, and the shouts of the hunters: the animal was aroused from his cover. He defended himself for some time against the dogs, till at length, becoming furious, he sprang forward with a bound towards the skirts of the forest. In a few minutes after, I heard the crashing of the branches and the young trees that the buffalo rent asunder in the terrible velocity of his course. His advance could only be compared to the galloping of several horses-to the rushing noise of some frightful monster-or, I might almost say, of some furious and diabolical being. Down he came like an avalanche; and at this moment, I confess, I experienced such lively emotions that my heart beat with extraordinary rapidity. Was it not death-aye, and frightful death-that was perhaps approaching me? Suddenly the buffalo made his appearance. He stopped for an instant; gazed, as if frightened, around him; sniffed up the air of the plain which extended in the distance; then, with distended nostrils, head bent, and horns projected, he rushed towards me, terrible and furious. The moment was come. If I had longed for an opportunity of showing off my courage and sang-froid to the Indians, these two precious qualities were now put to a severe test. There I was, face to face with the peril I had courted; the dilemma was one of the most decided and unavoidable that could possibly be: conqueror or conquered, there must be a victim-the buffalo or me, and we were both equally disposed to defend ourselves.

It would be difficult for me to state exactly what was passing in my mind, during the brief period which the buffalo took in clearing the distance that lay between us. My heart, so vividly agitated while the ferocious animal was rushing through the forest, now beat no longer. My eyes were fixed upon him, my gaze was rivetted on his forehead in such a manner that I could see nothing else. My mind was concentrated on one object alone, in which I was so absorbed, that I could actually hear nothing, though the dogs were still barking at a short distance, as they followed their prey. At length, the buffalo lowered his head, presented his sharp-pointed horns, stopped for a moment, then, with a sudden plunge, he rushed upon me, and I fired. My ball pierced his skull, and I was half saved. The animal fell within a pace of me, like a mass of rock, so loud, and so heavy. I planted my foot between his two horns, and was preparing to fire my second barrel, when a long and hollow bellowing indicated that my victory was complete-the monster had breathed his last sigh. My Indians then came up. Their joy was succeeded by admiration; they were in ecstacy; I was everything they could wish for. All their doubts had vanished with the smoke of my rifle, when, with steady aim, I had shot the buffalo. I was brave; I had won their confidence; I had stood the test. My victim was cut up in pieces, and borne in triumph to the village As the victor, J took his horns; they were six feet long. I have since deposited them in the museum. of Nantes. The Indians, those imaginative beings, called me thenceforward, "Malamit Oulou," ["malamig ang ulo"] Tagal words, which signify cool head."

He was a sharp-shooter obviously, and he thought he proved himself as brave as his Indian companions.  Could he have been as successful if he threw the lasso, as one of the Indians would have done, and led the captive through the thickets until it's subdued and immobilized? A matter of white man's ego, eh?


References:  

American Express Company. (c1932). Manila and the Philippines. Manila:[?]. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9173.0001.001  

Chirino, Pedro, S.J. (1604). Relacion de las Islas Filipinas. Rome. In Blair & Robertson (1904), The Philippine Islands 1493-1898.Vol. 7 (169-322). Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/afk2830.0001.012 

Foreman, John. (1906). The Philippine Islands; a political, geographical, ethnographical, social and commercial history of the Philippine Archipelago, embracing the whole period of Spanish rule, with an account of the succeeding American insular government. New York: C. Scribner's Sons. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea199 

La Gironière, Paul P. de. (1855). Adventures in the Philippine Islands. Translated from the French ... Revised and extended by the author, expressly for this edition. London: C.H. Clarke.  Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9187.0001.001 

Tinted picture (man on a carabao cart) from the Philippine Photographs Digital Archive of the Univeristy of Michigan, retrieved from http://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/i/image/image-idx?id=S-SCLPHILIMG-X-1868%5DPHLD051.

Haw, Haw, the Karabaw. Part 2.

Pen, pen, de sarapen, de kotsilyo de almasen,

Haw, haw, de karabao, bantuten.

 Bantuten ... mabantot.  The carabao stinks? It depends, we think, on the state of one's olfactory sensitivity, or on the occasion, whether our quadruped just had a good, clean bath down the river, by the neighborhood deep/artesian well, a good cleansing from the rains while in harness for the plowing, or it has just risen from a good nap in its small muddy wallowing pond at the backyard.

It may be that the carabao was more delighted in mud or muddy water, an observation that's reflected in the literature of the early years of the American regime.  It must be "allowed to have a mud bath once or twice a day," wrote Devins (1905), or it becomes "water mad."  It seemed like this animal could not resist jumping into the muddy pool no matter if it was carrying something on its back so that the mud drying and caking on its body would serve as insect repellant (Browne, 1900; Morris, 1906).  In Manila, where they were transport animals, the carabaos had the esteros for their wallowing ponds, all fully submerged there with only their heads above the water (Carpenter, 1926; Devins; Miller, 1912).

And that would explain why the early American visitors found the carabao smell repulsive, and yet, they were also surprised/shocked to find that the animals also were disgusted with them white people. They thought the animals hated their 'American' smell (Devins, 1905) or 'white man' smell (Dauncey, 1906).

"The carabaos are as gentle and amenable as horses with the natives," wrote the Englishwoman Dauncey, [but they] "are not at all safe as regards white people, however, for they can smell and detect them at an immense distance; and they will occasionally charge them ferociously, so that they are very dangerous in the open country."  She said she heard about "carabaos killing and trampling on white men in out-of-the-way places."

The official handbook (1903) for the Philippine exposition exhibit noted that "in the more remote towns [carabaos] sometimes display a violent dislike for white men, occasionally stampeding at the mere smell of one."  Morris thought so too, that the buffalo (his term) was "prejudiced against white men, the scent of an European traveller being sometimes sufficient to set all the buffaloes in a village on the stampede," clarifying that this applied to "villages rarely visited by the whites."  Browne, on the other hand, thought it was "an overmastering fear of foreigners, and the mere sight of a white man [that] has been known to stampede every buffalo in town."

Whether the smell mattered or not, the carabao or water buffalo figured in its own way on both sides of the Philippine war against the Americans.

In all its mud-smelling glory, it could have been a medalist for valor in recognition of its contribution to revolutionary journalism.  Without the carabao, the propaganda war against the Americans could not have been pursued on the run.  Wildman (1901) wrote:

"... there were more potent influences at work than force; one of these was official information published in La Independencia, the Insurgent organ, which followed the fortunes of the revolutionists. Its utterances were accepted by the people as gospel. It reached all official headquarters, and circulated extensively among the people throughout the Archipelago. It was the only Insurgent paper published in Luzon, and it was always issued from Aguinaldo's headquarters. When he and his staff retreated, La Independencia, with its few fonts of type, and its old Franklin handpress, was packed into a carabao cart, and dragged along. This printing outfit was of vast importance to the "paper" republic. Had we been able to capture the Insurgent printing outfit, I think the "government" would have perished of ennui.

"Always at a safe distance from the firing line Paterno, Mabini, Aguinaldo, or one of the cabinet ministers, spread into type the gospel of revolution, and circulated it broadcast throughout the Archipelago through the columns of La Independencia. These ardent revolutionists realized the influence of anything "in type," and employed their little outfit to the full limit of its possibilities."

While it was an insurecto (Devins), the carabao was also harnessed by the American military forces to serve them. Holmes (c1918) took the "slow, deliberate, and dignified" carabao as "a curious feature of the street life of Manila ... scores of  [them] dragging in their lazy wake long trains of carts now used for forwarding supplies to soldiers at the front"  during the night.  By daytime, these would return either empty or heaped with their dead or the wounded.

After the fall of the Republic in Palanan, Isabela, the Americans put the carabaos to good use in building peace-time Philippines.  They hauled timber from the virgin forests for government infrastructures. They were harnessed for road building. Even when modern agricultural equipment were introduced, the carabaos continued to be kings of the farms and the farm-to-market roads though rinderpest almost wiped them all off in the early 1900s.  

References:

Browne, George Waldo. (1900). The pearl of the Orient : the Philippine Islands. Boston: D. Estes and Co. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea210 

Carpenter, Frank. (1926). Through the Philippines and Hawaii. Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, Page and Company. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/AHZ9195.0001.001

Dauncey, Campbell. (1906). An Englishwoman in the Philippines. London: John Murray. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea186.

Holmes, Burton. (1918?). Manila. Chicago?:? Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aea0032.0001.001

Miller, George Amos. (1912). Interesting Manila: historical narratives concerning the pearl of the Orient. Manila: E.C. McCullough. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aca3379.0001.00

Morris, Charles. (1906). Our island empire: a hand-book of Cuba, Porto Rico, Hawaii, and the Philippine Islands. Philadelphia: Lippincot. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea200

Philippine exposition board. (1903). Official handbook of the Philippines and catalogue of the Philippine exhibit. Part 1. Manila: Bureau of public printing. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/afj2120.0001.001 

Wildman, Edwin. (1901). Aguinaldo: a narrative of Filipino ambitions. Boston: Lothrop Pub. Co. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9331.0001.001

Photo credits: 

Browne, George Waldo. (1900). The pearl of the Orient : the Philippine Islands. Boston: D. Estes and Co. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea210

Hannaford, Ebenezer. (1900). History and description of the picturesque Philippines, with entertaining accounts of the people and their modes of living, customs, industries, climate and present conditions. Springfield, Ohio: The Crowell and Kirkpatrick Company. Retrieved from http://digital.library.cornell.edu/cgi/t/text/text-idx?c=sea;idno=sea192

University of Wisconsin Digital Collections/National Archives and Records Administration (NARA) Philippines Images Collection. Retrieved from http://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/SEAiT/

Haw, Haw, the Karabaw. Part 1.

Pen, pen de sarapen / De kotsilyo de almasen

Haw, haw the karabao, bantuten.

                                                       -  Folk poetry.

Our grandparents--maternal and paternal--were probably farming folks and/or had katalonan manage the rice lands and till them and the seasonal harvest shared in the traditional manner.  Our tatang went to a trade school in Manila, became an electrician with the US naval base in Cavite first then in Subic Bay so he never harnessed a carabao to a plow during the rice planting season.  His sister's family took care of the inherited farmlands. Our nanang simply paid for the amillaramento even for lands claimed by the big Santo Tomas river, and we would just wait for a few sacks of unmilled rice at the end of the harvest without bothering to ask if these were her rightful share.

The gist of the preamble: we did not own a carabao! And that explains why, when we were growing up, it was such a big deal when the delivery carts would come rolling up our gate, the carabaos unhitched and tethered to the fence post or a nearby tree trunk, and later, after the sacks of rice have been deposited on the large wooden bin under the house, given a short ride around the neighborhood. 

It was a carabao that caused the scar in front and middle of our left leg, the size of a salapi (fifty-seven centavo coin of the old days)--and the scar was called that.  When we were in grade 6, taking the school carabao to the river for a good bath was voluntary and very good excuse to be spared the industrial art teacher's rod for not bringing split bamboos for the basketry weaving course.  There would always be three of us astride the broad back of the carabao, and we were in front most of the time. A carabao always sways its head to ward off the pesky swarm of flies around its head. Ours had long horns, and our leg got hit one time and the wound got infected and festered into a salapi.

Those were the years when the horse-drawn karetela was the mode of public transport around the old hometown, a jeepney or two between the coastal village and the poblacion, and the carabao-drawn karison was the family car of farmers. Our neighbor uncle's car was put to good use during the All Soul's and All Saint's nights when our elders would take us around town to watch the tombas.

Seldom did we see carabao meat on our dining table. It's only later did we learn why it was not as good as beef; they came from stocks too old to pull the plow, and the government prohibited slaughtering the work-fit ones. But there were carabao thieves on the prowl; the older folks knew where meat sold on the sly were coming from, and the decent ones would not dare buy for they knew whose carabao that was reported stolen.  Depending on age, a male or female animal can now be slaughtered for food, but it is still beef that dominates the market.

We never thought we would ever own a carabao. But a couple of years ago, we acquired a pregnant one. We had no intent whatsoever to buy but a former househelp from Isabela came and asked not for the usual loan but to please buy their farm animal instead. They needed money since her husband was preparing to leave for work abroad.  Just to save her from the prowling 5-6 lenders, we paid her without the animal in sight, and sent a cousin to fetch it.  It was a long journey for the carabao from Isabela up north to Pagudpud and down the Ilocano provinces to San Narciso, Zambales, where it gave birth somewhere in her grazing ground by the big river. This mother animal has brought forth a second calf, and we've been urging our cousin to find a buyer.

In the last Pahiyas in Lukban, we were surprised to see people, mostly the urban-looking young, excited by the sight of carabaos in the parade especially the very rare white one. The carabao-drawn floats had to make photo stops because there were plenty who would like to pose for a picture with a carabao, as if this were a TV or movie star or a beauty queen.
 

For two days in May this year, we were in a high school science teachers' workshop at the Central Luzon State U, which started as an agricultural college in the early 1900s just like that of the University of the Philippines in Los Banos.

Frank Carpenter (1926) called it "the school republic of Munoz" and "a boy republic in the heart of Luzon" after his visit there because there were about eight-hundred 'brown-skinned lads' from forty provinces who were supporting themselves to school there.  A picture of aggie boys with their carabao (which appears to be an imported specie) was included in the book, and it carried this explanation: "If the four boy-farmers on an allotment furnish their own carabao for ploughing, they get 90 per cent of the crop raised; if they furnish implements as well, they get 95 per cent."

A leisurely walk from the hub of CLSU is the Philippine Carabao Center (PCC), which was set up by a law (RA 7307) authored by then Senator Joseph Estrada in 1992, for the development of the carabao as a source of milk, meat, draft and hide, which should redound to the improvement of the quality of life of farming families..  We visited the place for possible photo-ops, and to buy dairy stuff to bring home because the products were highly recommended, which explains why the store was crowded with excursionists buying edible souvenirs.

Had we known, we could have inquired about the center's celebrity products, the "Presidential Carabaos" Erap, Fidel, Cory and Glory, all born as test-tube calves in 2002.   They don't look like our traditional carabaos anymore but buffaloes or water buffaloes, which the first Americans in the Philippines called them.

They are good breeds among almost a 100,000 others today that the center has developed.  Good quality semen from adult males like Erap are taken for the artificial insemination project to produce new types of Philippine carabaos.  The technology is officially called  “Propagation of Riverine Buffaloes through Embryo in vitro Production-Vitrification-Transfer Technique.”

It's been reported that carabaos Cory and Glory have become mothers themselves (two calves each), that Glory is unique - one of her horns curves downward and the other a little upward, and Fidel sires calves through natural mating.

Let's keep watch on the birthing of quality male calves during the next six years.  We can almost be certain that presidential carabao P-Noy will be coming soon.

References.

Carpenter, Frank G. (1926). Through the Philippines and Hawaii ... with more than 100 illustrations from original photographs. Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, Page & Company. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9195.0001.001 

Fernandez, Rudy. (2010, June 7). Erap, the test tube carabao, now fully grown. The Philippine Star Online at http://www.philstar.com/Article.aspx?articleId=582082&publicationSubCategoryId=68.

Philippine Carabao Center at http://www.pcc.da.gov.ph/history.php

The P-Noy of street parliamentarians on SONA day

We like the color of the streets on any SONA day. There's more than the blue, black and the predominant red of the usual protest organizers' banners. 

The towering yellow papier mache figure of P-Noy was not burned. There was yet no reason for the torching.  It's his first SONA, and the common Pinoys--who he said are his bossings--are still on ground zero for presidential debts to collect and grave misgovernance to denounce. 

This yellow P-Noy higante draped with the stars-and-stripes would surely find its way to a Philippine museum of protest art (MOPA) if ever there is one or to a collector for future e-Bay sale.

Alas, the Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo effigies of her nine SONA days were all torched. There are plenty of photographs in the archives to go back to for their appreciation as protest artworks.

This year, some UP fine arts students led by their student council painted P-Noy on that part of Commonwealth Avenue fronting the Ever Department store, just like what they would do during the annual street-painting event in front of Palma Hall in UP Diliman.

Their P-Noy of course is in yellow barong and he's holding a balance beam with protesters spilling off from one side and with the elite smug on the other.

P-Noy can be Zorro. He has painted in the public mind an illusion that he can be one, and that's what his bossings conjure after his platitudes of no wangwang, no tong-pats, no waldas, etc. even if he has not said anything substantial about key areas like land reform and foreign policy.

We hope though that P-Noy would not be this Zorro (picture above)--almost a fixture at the academic oval of the Diliman Republic--who has his own Katipunan flag ("Viva Caballero," it says) and his own revolution to finish. 

Visita Iglesia in May: San Sebastian Church

 

For the first time ever, we had reason to make a long-time wish come true: a close-up view of San Sebastian Church, which we saw from Legarda and Mendiola as a towering landmark during the protest rallies to Malacanang prior to Proclamation 1081 in September 1972.  Today, it looms as our beacon for disembarking at the Legarda station each time we take the MRT-3 for a faster trip to UST.

In May this year, the eldest son of a very good friend and his sweetheart chose to get married there. Camera bug that we are, we took just a few shots of the wedding ceremony while we focused on details of this architectural marvel, and its awesome interior with its antique yet beautiful altar, pulpit, rose windows and other artistic decorations. 

We would like to say that the Recoletos tie us up with this church historically because our hometown's Roman Catholic parish is called San Sebastian, who is himself our patron saint although our town fiesta has nothing to do at all with him.  When San Narciso, Zambales became full-fledged town in 1849, the new iglesia was Recollect and the first parish priest was Friar Alberto Serrano de Santa Ana, religioso de la orden de Agustinos Recoletos.  The SVD's would take over the parish in the early part of the 20th century and later the Columban order.

Our tertiary education was public in the Diliman Republic, but a very good townmate friend, now a senior Canadian citizen went to school at the San Sebastian College-Recoletos, which is adjunct to the church.  We had another friend who brought us around to sing-along joints for the beer and the karaoke, and in one of those sorties, we got to meet another Baste (yes, that's what they ID themselves), years before he joined showbiz and rose to become the wowowee tycoon Willie Revillame, who was a drummer of a boy band then.  A nephew graduated as a Baste when his uncle on his mother's side was rector of discipline there in the 1980s.

Thus, from our first brief visita of San Sebastian Church--almost two hours covering the wedding rites and the ritual photo sessions after--we brought home a camera-ful of beautiful memories, the collage of pictures above being just part of the trove.  Given these, we needed to look back to see how it was back then when it was built and new.

There is more to the capsule history in the landmark, which was attached there in 1934. In his work about the Recollects in the Philippines, Manuel del Val (1929) wrote: 

"Besides their convent and church in Intramuros, the Recollects also built the San Sebastian church, a large, all-steel church, and one of the most remarkable edifices in the world. As early as 1621, a modest convent and church were erected on this site, the district then being but poorly populated, but they placed there a venerable image, brought from Mexico, the "Madre del Carmelo", the fame of which soon spread over all Manila due to the miraculous cure of the Dean of the Cathedral, Juan Velez, later Bishop of Cebu, who had been given up by all the doctors. Earthquakes destroyed this building, and a later one stood until 1859. The third church erected on this site, opened in 1868 with elaborate ceremonies, and in which, thereafter, services were held with unusual magnificence, was completely destroyed in the memorable earthquake of July, 1880. The Recollect fathers did not lose courage under these repeated calamities, but determined to build, even at the greatest sacrifice, the temple which today proudly dominates the city. They thought to build this church of iron, and recommended the matter to Senor Don Genaro Palacios for study. He presented a plan which greatly pleased them, and the execution of the work was turned over to the Societe Anonigme d' Entreprises de Travaux Publiques, of Brussels, Belgium. Sections of the church in the form of hundreds of thousands of tons of steel were shipped to Manila, and the company sent Messrs. Pedro Brokel and Desiderio Carpentier to assemble them. These men deserve the greatest praise for their labors, but the people of Manila could also see the Recollect Brother Remigio, on Plaza del Carmen wearing a big straw hat in sunshine and in rain, aiding in the direction of the work. He had given proof of great architectural skill in former works, and should be given credit as well as the two other directors of the construction. The pulpit and the confessionals were designed by the artist Don Lorenzo Guerrero, and their construction and also that of the images was the work of Don Eulogio Garcia. The painting of the temple was done by the distinguished Professor Lorenzo Rocha, assisted by his pupils. This is the wonderful church of San Sebastian, dedicated to Nuestra Senora del Carmen. Its very high towers can be seen from a long distance, and serve navigators as a landmark."

 

The contract for painting of the new church was "let out to natives by the day. They erected some 25 feet of bamboo scaffolding and painted to the top of it, then erected 25 feet more scaffolding and painted to the top of that, and so on until the church was completed. ...Painters receive from 60 cents to $1.25 Mexican (Atkinson, 1902)."

 

"[I]t is probably the most impressive religious edifice in the city, with its tall spires and long vertical lines," wrote Norbert Lyons (1924).  "Twelve stained glass windows manufactured in Europe illumine the interior and there are also four beautiful rose windows. The stained windows illustrate the life of Christ and are well worth examining. A fine cupola rises in the center. It is decorated with frescoes of Carmelite saints. The interior is very impressive, with its long fluted columns and Gothic arches, groined and fan-ribbed at the top. In the high altar stands an image of Our Lady of Carmen and above it, in an exquisitely-wrought pinnacle, a statue of San Sebastian, flanked by two angels. All in all, this is one of the most interesting and most beautiful churches in Manila, making up vhat it lacks in antiquity by its artistic attractiveness."

Around 1855, an American observed that people were constantly going in and out of the large steel church, and "floor up to the altar was filled with kneeling devotees," mostly ladies with their "beautiful soft pina veils of white, contrasting with their rich black hair and brunette faces (Ball, 1855).  These ladies probably walked or rode the horse-drawn carriage to the church through uncluttered streets.

Those ladies are gone forever but San Sebastian Church with all its antiquities inside its all-steel shell still reign above the din of the cellphoning crowd and of tricycles and other tranport vehicles.  Thank God, no American Columban priest ever descended here, and just like what he did to the retablo altar of the San Narciso, Zambales Church, obliterated in one bold stroke the beautiful antique altar of this mighty San Sebastian Church. 

References: 

Atkinson, Fred W. (1902). Education in the Philippine Islands [Chapter XXIX, Report of the Commissioner of Education for 1900-1901]. Washington: Government Printing Office. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahk8492.0001.001 

Ball, Benjamin Lincoln. (1855). Rambles in Eastern Asia, including China and Manilla, with notes of the voyage to China, excursions in Manilla, Hong-Kong, Canton, Shanghai, Ningpoo, Amoy, Fouchow, and Macao, Second edition. Boston: James French and Company. Retrieved  from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aac6132.0001.001 

Lyons, Norbert. (1924, February). Manila, the City of Churches II - Outside the Walled City. The American Chamber of Commerce Journal. 4(2):8-11. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aaj0523.1923.001.

Val, Manuel del. (1929, September). The Works of the Recollect Fathers in the Philippines. The Philippine Magazine. 26(4):217, 228, 230, 232. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acd5869.0026.001 

Historical Photo Credits: 

Brown, Arthur Judson. (1904). The New Era in the Philippines. Nashville, Tenn. And Dallas, Texas: South Methodist Episcopal Church. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/ahz9194.0001.001 

Church, A. M.[ed.]. (c1898).  Picturesque Cuba, Porto Rico, Hawaii, and the Philippines; a photographic panorama of our new possessions.  Springfield,Ohio: Mast, Crowell & Kirkpatrick.  Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/AGF6711.0001.001 

Holmes, Burton. (c1918). Manila. Chicago?:s.n. Retrieved from  http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aea0032.0001.00 

Philippine Commission of Independence. (1923). Beautiful Philippines/A Handbook of General Information). Manila: Bureau of Printing. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/afj2148.0001.001

Tom's Dixie Kitchen in the Life of Pancho Villa

"A roar of laughter in Tom's Dixie Kitchen, Manila,'' wrote Bill Miller in the January, 1925 issue of The Philippine Republic, "made Pancho a champion of the world."  Miller was formerly with The Manila Daily Bulletin as sporting editor.

The Kitchen's patrons that day--boxing fans, sports writers and businessmen--thought Frank A. Churchill's optimistic and honest statement that  "a Filipino is going to be a world's champion someday" quite ridiculous. But really, "he was positive that the Filipino boxers were far enough advanced to compete with leading American and European ringsters."

Churchill was Pancho Villa's manager.  Around that time, the only Filipino boxer of note was Dencio Cabanela, who, unfortunately, met an untimely death. To Pancho, Cabanela was "The King."

The ridicule spurred Churchill to bring Pancho Villa and Elino Reyes to the United States in 1922.  "Thousands of dollars were spent," Miller wrote, "in bringing over these boys and getting them started in the American ring."  And that was considered something very crazy.

Shortly after, on June 18, 1923, Pancho Villa took the world's flyweight championship crown from Jimmy Wilde's head in New York and became the Philippines first world boxing champion in history.

Frank A. Churchill was vindicated at last.  His wild yet optimistic forecast at Tom's Dixie Kitchen that was ridiculed bore a Filipino champion who would be enshrined in Halls of Fame in the boxing circuit, and whose legend continues to inspire until today.

Tom's Dixie Kitchen outlived Pancho Villa.  The owner, Thomas Pritchard, a Jamaican black man, came to Manila in 1911, married a Filipina and put up the Kitchen after the restaurant where he was chef closed. Pancho passed away on July 14, 1925, and the restaurant did not cease operations until 1941 due to poor business and following a waiters' strike.

According to the American Express guidebook of 1933, “Tom’s Dixie Kitchen is a Manila institution, noted for its excellent food, good orchestra and the fact that it never closes. No matter where you may go you should always end up at Tom’s for some ham and eggs, toast and coffee or any other of the many excellent specialties, before going home. All night and all day, “Tom’s” flourishes and is known all over the Orient.”

When Pritchard died at the age of 81 in 1964, AVH Hartendorp, editor of The Journal of the American Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines recalled:  

"I first knew Tom as the Tom's Dixie Kitchen, which was then a small place along the narrow street, off Plaza Goite, which extends from Rizal Avenue and runs into Echague Street. There was only a lunch-counter and a few small tables, with Tom himself, big, black, and smiling, and also handsome, presiding behind the counter and helping to prepare and serve the delicious southern-style American dishes which brought people into the place. Soon the establishment was enlarged until it occupied about a quarter of the whole block on that side of Plaza Goite. On the other corner was the smaller Plaza Lunch, all white tile, which specialized in short orders, but Tom's was the place to eat more leisurely. 

"The Dixie Kitchen was almost entirely open on two sides and there were a number of large round-tables reserved for special groups,--government officials and members of the Legislature and the Municipal Board, sportsmen and sports-writers, vaudeville actors, businessmen, with newspapermen generally moving from one to another of the tables.

"Plaza Goite, then, was the center of the town, easily reached from anywhere. The Meralco street-car system had a central waiting-station there. Tom's was a place to meet as well as eat and hours were spent there in talk. It was open night and day and theater and concert goers went there after these affairs for something to eat before going to bed. The place was always full of various celebrities, and soldiers off duty and sailors on shore-leave also would drift in, eating large meals. The price of the regular lunch was one peso! Special orders, for beefsteak, etc. came to more, but prices were still reasonable. 

"The place was lively, but always orderly. Torn was almost always there, keeping an eye on the expert cooks and on the scores of waiters, who all were deft and courteous and knew the regulars by name. Tom would sometimes sit down at a table for a while and this was considered a special favor."

While Tom's Dixie Kitchen's habitues probably were boisterous in their celebration of Pancho Villa's victories on the ring, we can also imagine that they seethed with outrage when Pancho Villa was unjustly suspended by the New York Boxing Commission from fighting for eight months in 1924.  We can also see them all--and the nation as well--in great mourning when news that Pancho Villa died a few days after his fight with Jimmy McLarnin in July 1925, and when his remains were interred in the Manila North Cemetery a month later. 

References: 

American Express Company. (c1933). Manila and the Philippines.  Manila.  
Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/AHZ9173.0001.001.

Miller, B. (1925, January). How Pancho Villa Rose to Fame. The Philippine Republic. 2(1):16-17. Washington DC.  Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/acc6198.1924.001.

Hartendorp, AVH. (1964, August). The “Let Your Hair Down” Column. The American Chamber of Commerce of the Philippines Journal. 40(8):388-389. Manila. Retrieved from http://name.umdl.umich.edu/aaj0523.1964.001.