Interesting Times

The event was held at a high school gym and called “A Cultural Day of Play.”  It was sort of like a Filipino-themed high school carnival with games, food, and booths.  I was there to help out with the stick-fighting tournament.  This was several years ago, long before I had discovered kalamansi and ube ice cream; it was the first time I saw the dancers.

I admire most forms of athletic striving, but dancing has always just seemed stupid to me.  Mainly because it looks stupid and it’s obviously a waste of time better spent actually doing martial arts or having sex, which are the activities that dance always seems to be pussy-footing about.  So no, I’m not into dance.

But there was that one day in the gym.  Some guy I hadn't seen before came in with a big boom box and started fiddling with it over to one side as the MC started shooing people away from the middle of the floor.  Then the guy with the boom box hit play, one set of gym doors opened and the dancers started in.

As I now know, we have at least two local troupes who do traditional Filipino dance around here. They research the dances, the textiles of the costumes, the music, the instruments, and the props then train endlessly for performances.  I think this time I was seeing the Oakland troupe.  Time stopped for me that day as they walked onto the floor and started doing their thing.  For one thing, they were really professional; they took our little high school carnival space and commanded it to be their theater.  The hand and foot work of the dance was subtle and precise, which attracted my attention as a martial artist.  The textiles of the costumes were complex and beautiful, which attracted my attention as a weaver.  The dances themselves were full of mythological resonance, even if I didn't know the exact story being told.  Overall, the dance featured vignettes with costumes and props from different historical periods and dancers of all ages, including (my personal fave) mostly naked handsome young men.

The main thing I remember about that day is when the dancers came into the gym a bolt of electricity shot down my spine.  This was one of the most exciting and interesting things I had ever seen.  I wanted to get right up close and press my nose against the glass, except there wasn't any glass.  Mind you, I've done a lot of seeking in my day and I've found a fair number of things.  My life is not exactly short on “interesting” things (in the Chinese proverb sense) and, as I've already said, I’m really not into dance.  But I could not get enough of looking at their costumes, foot and hand work, and then the tinikling.

Do you know what tinikling is?  Probably not, if you aren't Filipino or don’t have Filipino friends.  It’s like a dangerous version of Twister that involves couples dancing over and between sticks that are being banged on the floor and then smashed together in rhythm to music.  Google tinikling images and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about. There’s probably some huge cultural heritage full of nuances behind tinikling, but as a white person I was unscarred by any knowledge of that.  The first time I saw it, I was like, “What the f … whoa, what?  What?  Whoa, that’s cool!”

Ever since seeing that first performance I've had a keen eye out for any kind of traditional Filipino dance because it never ceases to electrify me.  In 2013 I had the opportunity to perform as a martial artist as part of a dance production with the San Francisco troupe Parangal, which was more exciting than excitement itself.  My job was just to get beat up on by my teacher, which was easy enough, but this time I had to do it in costume, wearing makeup, choreographed and on a precise schedule.

There’s only a couple of times in my life that I've been more terrified than just before going on stage, but those are the times you train for.  Win or lose, succeed or fail, at least you have your training; nothing else really matters, anyway.  What was fascinating was the backstage action.  On the stage veritable acts of ritual magic were being smoothly performed, as far as I could tell; backstage, people were racing back and forth to do costume and prop changes and get to the right entry point for their next appearance.  I realized that whatever acts of athletic prowess and nuanced physical control were being exhibited on stage, they were nothing compared with the controlled thermonuclear explosion that was going on in the wings and backstage.

All of which is to say, Parangal has a performance in San Mateo this October.  They spend two years researching local dances, working on costumes and rehearsing.  The troupe is not all professional dancers; many are just people who train hard.  That is why when you see a production of this nature it’s like witnessing a communal ceremony of ritual magic.  This time I am looking forward to being able to see the whole performance while sitting comfortably in a seat.  Life is indeed interesting, and sometimes that’s not a bad thing.