From war dance to theater of war moro moro performances in the philippines 4

The Power of the Diktador To read the performance text in a moro-moro play was, and in some place today still is, to be in a position of privilege and power.. Because of the lengthine

Chapter 4

Playing By Ear:

The Art of Dictation and Direction by the Diktador

To play by ear is to make music without reference to printed notation The

Spanish call it oído, the past participle of oír, “to hear.” The Tagalog translation for playing an instrument without reading notes is kapa, or to feel with the hand By ear

or by feel, oído or kapa, the point is to sense one's way through Used as a figure of

speech, to "play by ear" is to handle a situation in an impromptu manner, without reference to pre-determined plans

In many ways, the conventional moro-moro performance of the past, one that was lorded over by a diktador, was a kind of theater that was played by ear The actors played by ear by hearing the lines dictated to them by the diktador, and the

musicians waited for his whistle, or his thumping of an iron rod to signal which music

would be played The diktador decides whether to prolong a scene, like the

much-loved swordplay, or whether to cut it short, depending on the response of the

audience, or the weather The diktador is not slave to the script, but rather he is its

master (especially so when he is also the playwright) He may deviate from the script considerably, skipping scenes or inserting more verses as his mood dictates; he plays

it by ear

In the previous chapter we introduced the utility and pleasurability of

repetition for the traditional moro-moro audience In this chapter, we explore these themes further by anchoring our discussion on one particular feature of the moro- moro that contributes greatly to its repetitiousness: the diktador's improvisational

power and the art of dictation of dialogue After a brief review of the role of the

diktador in the past, the discussion moves to the state of the art of dictation in the present We examine the moro-moro tradition in two communities: First, the Arakyo

performances in Nueva Ecija province in Central Luzon where dictation continues to

be practiced; and second, the Komedya of San Dionisio in Parañaque city in Metro Manila where memorization has now been adopted to replace dictation But before proceeding with our evaluation of the present state of dictation, we must first have a grasp of what dictation traditionally entailed

The Power of the Diktador

To read the performance text in a moro-moro play was, and in some place

today still is, to be in a position of privilege and power The word "prompter" as it is commonly used in the field of theater studies fails to capture the level of expertise

required of one who reads out lines in a traditional moro-moro performance In the local language, the prompter is called a diktador (dictator) or apuntador (prompter), both of which are Spanish-derived words with connotations of power Apuntador in

the Spanish language commonly means "prompter" but it can also refer to "one who observes and takes notes" or even, in a battle ship, "one who points the guns" a

gunner The use of the Spanish-derived term diktador in the context of theater in the

Philippines could perhaps be based on the Spanish verb "dictar" which can mean "to pronounce what another is to say or write", "to teach" and, in the legal field, "to issue"

a decree Note that in Spanish dictionaries there is no reference to dictador being a prompter in theater (for which they use the term apuntador); rather, the word refers to

someone "invested with absolute authority"

The diktador held various aspects of performance together If, as we discussed

in the previous chapter, consumption of the performance was in "bits and pieces", so

too was the manner in which actors learned their parts Because of the lengthiness of

moro-moro scripts called orihinal, actors could not be given complete copies of the entire performance script Instead they received partidas or bits of the performance that contained their speaking lines An orihinal was usually inscribed on thick catalan

paper with a quill pen that used imported ink.1 It was, thus, too expensive to

reproduce the entire script for each member of a large cast The partidas that were

distributed to the actors used instead the cheaper, flimsier, and thus highly perishable

papel de japon Actors familiarized themselves with their dialogue, but they only

knew the play in bits and pieces, and though they had a general idea of how their parts

related to the whole, they depended on the diktador to cue them, come performance time One convention of moro-moro dialogue, the "chorus of agreement" expressed

by soldiers or counselors to affirm the king, requires synchronization All actors

involved need to be attuned to the diktador in order to recite the right words, in the

correct intonation, so they could recite the lines in unison and harmony

Actors need to be instructed by the diktador on the spot because, as Mojares points out, the moro-moro script "in several respects is just a sketch In the actual

staging, scenes and characters may be either added or deleted."2 Paradoxically, there

is something of an "ephemeral quality" to a script, even if it is one that has been handed down from generation to generation and has been performed yearly for more than a century Each time the same script is used, a different story may be told

depending on how the diktador chooses to use the script It is instructive to compare aspects of the usage of the moro-moro script with performance scripts found

elsewhere in Southeast Asia According to Judith Bosnak, a common feature of Javanese play texts is the ephemeral quality of the scripts - there are often mnemonic

1 Recounted by Mr Falcon in an interview by Patricio Rivera Ceballos in "The Boholano and His Religious Folk Literature" PhD Dissertation University of Santo Tomas, 1971 pp 163-164

2 Mojares, 1985, p 137

devices, schemata, play scenarios, script-like devices, and script-like phenomena such

as briefing and reading sessions that guide the performance In many theatric genres

in Java, scriptwriters are more of "scenarists", and the performances have many improvisational elements The preparations by playwrights and actors do not lead to the creation of a fixed performance plan, but rather result in the development of a flexible framework functioning as the starting point of performance.3 The moro-moro

play text can likewise be seen as a "script-like" device In form and in physical appearance, it has all the characteristics of a usual script, but in the manner that it is used it is not as "fixed" as a script in a Western context

The element of improvisation in the manner in which the diktador selectively uses scenes in the moro-moro script gives him a towering presence during a

performance He can be quite audible and visible as he dictates and directs at the same time He waves his hands to point to the actors where they should be, sometimes even climbing up on stage during the performance as he dictates the lines and instructs the actors on their blocking.4 In the light of our earlier discussion about the distribution of dialogue to various sections of the audience, we can imagine that this behavior of the

diktador would not have disrupted the audience’s viewing experience His delivery of

dialogue while walking around the stage would have even facilitated the distribution

of the text to various sections of the audience Outsiders and audiences accustomed to

modern theater would, of course, find this behavior of the diktador distracting

The diktador also uses a whistle to cue the musicians and actors on what

scenes are to be performed The signals vary from place to place, but a typical set of

signals is the following: One long blast means marcha and soldiers march onto the stage; two short ones mean paso doble and soldiers start preening themselves and

posturing in preparation for a fight; three short blasts mean laban or fight by

swordplay; four blasts mean an increased pace in swordplay; five blasts signal the

funebre or a funeral march for when one of the duelists falls and dies; and one long

and two short ones tell the musicians to stop playing.5 In most cases, a brass band is hired for the occasion, and given the costs involved in paying for their services and feeding the musicians, they are usually not part of the rehearsals but appear only at

fiesta time The repetitiousness of the music used for the moro-moro must be seen in

this light as well The stock repertoire is necessary for village playwrights and musicians to establish a working relationship on the spot A traveling playwright with his own troupe of actors may be invited to present a play at a neighboring town's fiesta, and would have to work with that locale's resident brass band; or conversely, a brass band from another town may be hired by a local playwright to perform on the days of the fiesta For all the component parts of the system—music, acting, dialogue—to come together, the presence of the multi-tasking, whistle-blowing,

diktador was absolutely essential

Felicidad Mendoza, who conducted extensive research on the moro-moro in

her efforts to preserve and popularize the genre from the 1960's onwards, reports how

"sometimes excited directors become quite obvious as they cross up stage to left and right, in order to be heard clearly and to rouse inattentive participants."6 Mendoza

recalls a particularly vivid memory of her first moro-moro experience as a little girl sometime before World War II She recounts how the diktador pointed to a soldier

and dictated the lines, but the soldier faltered and missed a few words Extremely

annoyed, the diktador repeated the lines, but the nervous soldier faltered again, scratching his head in embarrassment The diktador lost his patience and scolded him

5 Taken from Felicidad Mendoza, 1976 p 53 and Resil Mojares 1985, p 82 In the Cebuano version discussed

by Mojares, the apuntador thumped on a metal rod to sound off to the musicians and actors

6 Mendoza, p 63

aloud, which brought the audience to laughter and as if on cue, the clown or pusong

rolled on to the stage to laugh along with the crowd.7

In many ways, dictation provides the opportunity for laughs The pusong or clown (also called locayo, gracioso, bulbulagaw or bobo), for instance, often pounces

on the opportunity to make fun of actors who make mistakes in following the

diktador, such as when they miss a word or when soldiers who are supposed to

deliver their lines in unison are unable to do so When actors are concentrating hard

and straining to hear the dictation, the pusong would parody their postures as they are

suspended in listening poses As Joaquin Martinez de Zuñiga reported seeing in 1800, the clowns "threaten one of the characters from behind pretending to hit the actor on the head" and in doing so they "make the audience die with laughter" At the end of the performance, Zuñiga adds, the clowns talk about the play's most glaring defects and may even criticize the playwrights too.8

This act of the pusong in commenting on the play is worth taking note of, for

it gives us a glimpse of the buffoon's ability to serve as counterbalance to the

diktador's authority Other than the diktador, the pusong is the only other performer who can freely walk on, around, or off the stage Of the pusong, Mojares writes: "He

deflates the claims of hierarchy and ceremony with his base remarks on the play’s noble personages (often in low, unscripted verse) and by uncouth actions and gestures

that disrupt the rigid, choreographed movements on stage." Furthermore, the pusong

is "the free agent, the clown of deconstruction."9

From one point of view, the diktador is seen as all powerful For Nicanor Tiongson, the rise (and eventual decline) of the moro-moro could be attributed to a

7 Ibid., p 115

8 Joaquin Martinez de Zuniga, O.S.A., Status of the Philippines in 1800, trans V del Carmen (Manila: Filipiniana

Book Guild, 1973; first published in 1862), p 82

9 From a paper entitled "Notes for the Production of a Brechtian Komedya" read by Resil Mojares as a keynote speech at the International Komedya Conference, University of the Philippines, February 29, 2008

"feudal order" characterized by a "paternalistic outlook" and "autocratic ways": that

is, "looking up to those in authority, at the "high" and "mighty" people" while "those

who are considered lower are expected to follow orders" In relation to the diktador,

Tiongson writes: "It is this feudal outlook… that allowed for directors to shout

"lintik!" and "putang-ina" at the komedyantes which they accepted quietly."10

Tiongson's ideas about the passive and subservient performers may well be the case,

but there are also indications that performers may have the urge to resist the diktador,

and there are instances on record of when performers gave in to these urges

A case in point has to do with the diktador's whistle Mendoza notes that in the moro-moro she researched, the whistle irritated musicians and actors, especially when

it was sounded too soon, interrupting and ending too abruptly a musical piece or battle scene Mendoza often heard musicians grumbling and grudgingly complying with the

diktador's signals to end a sequence In one incident recounted by a diktador to

Mendoza in the 1970's (we do not know when the incident actually happened), a

"Moro" prince who happened to be drunk refused to "drop dead" at the feet of his

Christian nemesis as he should when the diktador cued him with the whistle Instead,

he continued the fight scene The annoyed diktador kept blowing the whistle, but the

Moro fought even more ferociously, to the delight of the crowd who kept cheering on

the drunken "Moro" and his "Christian" accomplice The livid diktador gave them a

tongue lashing afterwards.11

If in the above anecdote the actors did not want to stop the fight scene, we recall, from the previous chapter, an opposite scenario where an actor refused to perform a fight scene This happened in Cebu in 1919, when the actor known as Onsot no longer wanted to perform a rousing fight scene for yet a third time, as he

10 Tiongson, 1979 Komedya sa Parañaque p 22

11 Mendoza, p 54

was implored upon to perform a second encore The diktador took the refusal as a

grave insult to his authority, so much so that he slapped the actor in the face and the

actor drew his sword with the intention of striking the diktador, at which point others

intervened to prevent a tragic finale

In his pioneering work on theater, James Brandon characterizes plays in Southeast Asia as "pre-fabricated" in contrast to the original plays in the West, which are "hand-crafted" In terms of composition of stories, that can very well be the case But in terms of presentation, it is arguably the reverse Each performance of a play in the West is expected to stick to the story, to remain true to the writer's intention In this sense, it is "pre-fabricated", a replica that aims to be true to the original—like

playing music by referring to notes or a score In contrast, the same moro-moro story—say, the script of the play Atamante—which was rented out to different small villages, would be performed differently in each town, as every diktador customizes

his use of the script according to the resources available It is played by ear, and

although it resembles the original in many ways, every rendition of Atamante is not a

replica of the original

The diktador has a special relationship with the performance text He is both

slave to the script as well as its master He is confined to reading the lines available to him, but he is also free to deviate from them A good example of this is an old

practice in the village of San Dionisio, Parañaque, where some older moro-moro

actors from previous years may sometimes be invited to participate in the play as a guest actor, to perform some minor role in a scene, such as a soldier giving advice to the king In the script, the soldier may just have a few lines of dialogue to deliver, but

if the guest performer once played a leading role as a prince, and if he is of a respected stature in the community, the director may allow him to recite more

dialogue, to lengthen his time on stage The director will momentarily put down the

script and say "pa-itlogin mo na" (literally: "let it lay eggs", meaning, "let it

multiply"), and this signals to the guest actor that he has permission to take center stage, and deliver verses at will He recites lines he knows from another play from years back, with much gusto and flourish, much to his enjoyment as well as the crowd’s, even if his words may have nothing at all to do with the story of the current play being performed No one is disturbed by the disproportionate amount of dialogue allowed for such a minor character, for in everyone's minds, the privilege of being given extra time on stage is proportionate to the guest performer's stature in the community.12

Moments when the diktador allows deviation from the script may indeed

wreak havoc on the story being relayed, but for an audience that is accustomed to consuming a lengthy play in bits in pieces, interruptions are not a source of discomfort In many ways, these moments of deviation create the space for accommodating that which the community finds pleasurable

The Art of Dictation: The Arakyo in Nueva Ecija

13 Nueva Ecija is the largest province in Central Luzon, and is called the "rice granary" of the Philippines for it produces a third of the country's rice yield It has 5 cities, 27 municipalities, and 849 barangays or villages, majority of which are classified as rural communities In the municipality of Peñaranda, there are a number of

barangays or villages that still perform the moro-moro Peñaranda is classified as a 4th class, or low-income community According to the 2005 census, Peñaranda has a population of about 25,000 inhabitants and nearly 5,000 households The town consists of ten barangays, many of which have a living Arakyo tradition Performances are staged on different weekends in May in the barangays of Kita-Kita, San Jose, Sta Rosa, Sto Tomas, and Sinasajan Peñaranda is bordered by the municipality of General Tinio, San Leonardo, and the city of Gapan where other barangays also stage their own Arakyo performances

various small villages stage their local version of the moro-moro called Arakyo, held

at different weekends each May The same story is staged in all the villages, and it is repeated every year, so the performance I saw in the Barangay of Sinasajan (pronounced Si-na-sa-han) in 2005, was typical, and the observations made on

delivery of dialogue and the role of the diktador is, to my knowledge, representative

of the prevalent practice in the province

The Arakyo performance staged on May 21-22 in Barangay Sinasajan in Peñaranda went from mid-morning to mid-afternoon of the 21st, resumed mid-morning the next day, and ended by sundown It was performed on an open-air stage,

a partially-roofed platform made of cement, elevated some four feet from the ground The stage stood in front of a basketball court and next to it was the barangay day-care center, a basic one-room building made of cement and a steel roof Behind the stage was a rice field Dangling from wires strewn over the stage was a single microphone that failed to catch much of the dialogue A marching band composed of teenagers sat

in the shaded part of the stage, while the actors mostly congregated at center stage, baking in the sun

On the first day of performance, itinerant vendors began setting up a row of makeshift stalls under the shade of a small cluster of trees near the basketball court They were selling food, drink, and small items like toys and trinkets A few teenage boys were playing basketball on the court while performers were reciting their lines

and performing dance sequences On the stage floor sat the diktador, who was reading

the lines from a notebook

There is, in the recitation of moro-moro dialogue, an art of delivery that is

quite engaging An expert reads from a performance text, line by line, and each actor echoes not only the words, but also the intonation and tricky phrasing, following the

diktador's decisions on when to break a line, and when to emphasize a syllable

Studying the traditional dictation of lines provides a window into a set of performance skills one can no longer find in any of the newer forms of theater available commercially these days

A central skill involves listening: closely, intently, but in a state of relaxed alertness, almost nonchalantly Imagine a performance held at the edge of a rice field,

on an open-air theater stage at daytime, with all sorts of ambient noise, from the crowd, from the wind, from vehicles plying the streets nearby On the stage are congregated many actors and musicians from the band An actor whose turn it is to

recite his lines must block out all noise and focus on the diktador's voice to catch the melodic flow of old Tagalog words Moro-Moro acting has often been described in

colonial writing as being highly "artificial", with actors donning expressionless faces

Illustration 5 (left): A diktador seated downstage center in Gapan (2003)

Illustration 6 (right): A diktador seated upstage center in Sinasajan

surrounded by children during a performance (2005)

that are "mask-like" Indeed, the performers I saw looked rather "blank" at times, but for a good reason This "expressionlessness" conceals an acute attentiveness to sound, for the actors do not "just stand there" on stage, as if their bodies are suspended from

action They are listening closely to the the diktador so that they may hear the right phrasing in order to repeat the lines well In unbroken rhythm one hears the diktador's voice, then an actor's, then the diktador's, then an actor's, and so on To the uninitiated

it could be a cumbersome and tedious listening experience

The secret to appreciating moro-moro dialogue is in being mindful of the

melodious rendering, being attuned to the rhythmic cadence flowing back and forth

between the diktador and the actors If one were to listen only to actors, the experience will be haltingly choppy and the diktador can indeed get in the way of the

smooth flow of dialogue But if one were to listen to both, to resist the urge to think of the dictator merely as a prompter, to refrain from compartmentalizing and separating the two—if one tries to hear them in their unity, to be open to hearing dialogue delivered twice rather than just once—one may begin to understand the logic behind

the performative centrality of the diktador

To see how the diktador holds various elements of the performance together,

let us take a close look at a few lines taken from Scene 28 of the play14 This is a courtship scene involving the Muslim prince Godimar (G) and the Christian Empress Elena (E) In the scene, Godimar expresses his love, and Elena repeatedly rejects him

G: Tuwa mo na kaya't lugod na sa akin Does it bring you great pleasure and joy

Ang ako sa dusa'y pabitin-bitinin To see me hung by the rope of agony?

Kahit kakamunti ako ay lingapin Can you not bring it in your heart

tuturang malaki To cast me a morsel of love?

14 The Arakyo script used in Sinasahan was the same as the one used in the town of Gapan which was studied and documented by Nicanor Tiongson in 1986 The performance text was published in his book Komedya: Phillippine Theater History and Anthology (UP Press: 1999) The scene I used here appears on pages 500-508 I also use here

the English translation provided by Tiongson

E: Dapat sa iyo This you deserve!

As Godimar's lines are read out by the diktador, the actor playing Godimar

assumes a pose, one foot in front with knee slightly bent, and as he delivers his lines,

he raises his right arm— index finger pointing up held near his face—swings it down, and does the same with the left arm The two arms swing alternately to the beat of his verses, while he takes a few steps forward and back

Meanwhile, Elena stands still, sword in her right hand, and the other at her hip She is listening closely, for when it is her turn to speak, she will have to swing

her sword at the right time The diktador says her line "Dapat sa iyo" with a stress on

the second syllable "pat", and as Elena repeats the line and says the word "Dapat", she raises her voice on "pat", lifts her arm, and swings her sword down She then takes a few quick steps to the other side of the stage The musicians have also been listening closely, for when Elena says "Da-pat", the cymbals clash on "pat" and the drum roll begins at the same time, accompanying her steps as she darts across the stage Godimar also takes quick steps, crossing the stage with her, after which he assumes a semi-kneeling pose, one foot in front, with both knees bent low to the ground facing

Elena As he is securing the right pose, he is listening to the diktador deliver the

single word he is about to recite

(Derodilla) (He "half kneels" before her)

E: Di ako nagsadya dito sa iyo, uslak I did not come to tarry with you, slave

Na makiurira kung di yaring tabac You will have to argue with my blade

When it is Elena's turn to speak, she recites a full line first, and for her second

line, the diktador raises the intonation on the word "di", and as Elena follows his

recitation, she swings her sword at "di", the cymbals clash, the drums start beating, and she darts towards the back of the stage as she finishes saying the line Godimar,

of course, sidesteps the blow and follows Elena, his ear tuning in to the voice of the

diktador who is delivering his next line as he assumes his pose

G: Poot mo'y magbawa Let your anger subside!

E: Talasan mo ang pagtalad Be alert, or lose your hide!

Elena again delivers her line, striking him with her sword, and the same pattern is repeated, with the same postures and gestures, as the two make their way around the four corners of the stage, repeatedly, covering the stage in a clockwise direction (Fig.1)

In this scene, there are some 60 lines divided between Godimar and Elena, with some dialogue composed of an entire stanza of four lines, and others consisting only of one word Interspersed with the dialogue is the repeated choreography of Elena's striking of the sword, Godimar's sidestepping, and their transferring to all corners of the stage in between their exchanges (See Figure 1) Connecting all these

elements is the rhythmic and authoritative reading of the diktador, whose manner of

enunciating words provides aural cues to the actors and musicians, effectively conveying a set of instructions to all the other performers, encoded in the inflections

of his voice

Illustration 7 Choreographic Sketch of the Dialogue Between Godimar and Elena

Actors and musicians have to "listen well" in order to interpret or decode the

commands imbedded in the voice of the authority figure, in this case, the diktador It

is a skill acquired through practice, from months of rehearsal and years of performing

An actor anticipates the dialogue and movement to be delivered as the diktador is

reading the lines This anticipation is expressed physically in the posture of the body and the expression of the face, with an actor (and even a musician) taking on the demeanor of someone who is "listening without looking", eyes softly focused on nothing in particular, body relaxed It is a demeanor that can easily be mistaken for nonchalance, even apathy or disinterest, with the softly focused eyes appearing like a

"vacant" look on the face (See Illustration 7) One may be surprised to find out that

the actors who sometimes look listless on stage describe their performances as "dibdib

na dibdib" (very much heartfelt); and "feel na feel" (a colloquial Tagalog expression

that repeats the English word "feel" to emphasize the intensity of feeling)

Prompter

G

The actress playing the lead role of Elena has been performing for nine years,

starting at the age of eleven in the supporting role of a dama, then working her way

up to the coveted role of Reyna Elena, which she only got a chance to portray on her

eighth year of acting She has honed her listening skills well enough to execute the challenging scene with Godimar, which requires her to move to far corners of the

stage, forcing her at various times in the sequence to strain to hear the diktador from

quite a distance Closely reviewing my videotapes of the performance, I noticed that

at times the actors miss a word or two, replace some terms, or even forego the ends of sentences It is barely noticeable because the rhythmic flow of the dialogue is not disturbed by the substitution of words The improvisation does not seem to be a rebellious expression of individual creativity It is as though actors may have heard the dictation only partially, and improvised with parts of the line, filling in the gaps either with other words (or even with purposive silence), in order to keep the meter intact This is not a sign of sloppiness or inexperience On the contrary, it shows commitment to maintaining the consistency of the tempo between dictation and

The diktador taking

cover from the sun

Illustration 8:

Godimar and Elena while listening closely to the dictation Their faces are expressionless

dialogue It is, likewise, a display of virtuosity with verses, for the substitution is done quickly and intuitively, with the sound and the sense of the line being retained despite the loss of some of the original words

The scene between Godimar and Elena, by being repeated in four corners of the stage, suggests that different sections of the audience were being targeted

strategically so that everyone would hear the dialogue In traditional moro-moro,

crowds gathered in front and on both sides of the stage, and the choreographic sequence followed by actors, both for their dances and their delivery of dialogue, reflect their sensitivity to the location of their audience, and their desire to equitably

"distribute" access to the performance

It is not just the diktador, actors, musicians, and audiences, that form part of

this oral/aural chain The anonymous author of the performance text likewise is deeply involved in this dynamic It is clear from the design and structure of verses, from the devices employed in the writing of the script, that the author was well aware

of what kind of choreographic treatment would accompany the dialogue once it gets dramatized

The structure of the verses follow a principle of repetition, where a certain event or idea is conveyed several times using a different set of verses The scene between Godimar and Elena used as an example earlier, centers on the Muslim prince declaring his love and the Christian queen rejecting it They alternate in reciting dialogue built around this single theme, exchanging speaking lines a dozen times, which translates to Elena striking her sword at each interval, and their going to each

of the four corners of the stage clockwise for three full rounds We can detect how the author's written dialogue bears the imprint of choreography as well as the physical aspects of the playing space and the location of the audience From the example of

this scene alone, the intricate relationship between the author's work and the performative life of the text, and how they mutually shape and reinforce each other,

become apparent This further clarifies the centrality of the diktador who, as he reads

the text, provides the cues for music and choreography

Dictation involves skillful reading and speaking on the part of the diktador In Sinasajan the diktador during performances is also the maestro, the one who teaches the moro-moro to the next generation He told me that he had studied the same script

for many years, having performed many of the roles in the play His grandfather was

also a maestro and this allowed him to observe the reading, speaking and teaching of

dialogue ever since he was a little child His familiarity with the lengthy script allows him, at a glance, to gauge a verse and decide how to phrase it, when to cut it for breathing, whether to skip parts of it, and when to pause for breaks to allow the cast to rest In Sinasajan, they have decided to follow the script as is the tradition, but recently they have had to end the performance before sunset on the second day of staging They therefore simply try to cover as much of the script as they possibly can

within the given time-frame of two days, relying on the maestro/diktador to determine

the changes

When the performance began on the first day, very few people turned up This

"absent audience" can be explained by referring back to our discussion in the previous

chapter about the moro-moro mode of consumption being in bits and pieces By the

afternoon of the second day the crowd began to swell as people gathered under the shade and only slowly advanced towards the stage as the sun descended It was a peculiar way for the crowd to be watching a performance: carefully advancing towards the stage as the shadows from trees covered more ground and the concrete floor of the basketball court cooled enough to allow villagers to sit comfortably on it

By five pm, it felt like the whole barangay or village had shown up As

evening drew near, when the diktador felt that it was the right time, he signaled the

band to stop playing and momentarily drew the performance to a close so he could invite the community to come up on stage At his signal, babies and toddlers were brought by their parents close to the stage so they could be handed over to the actors

on stage It had become a custom for actors to carry babies for a devotional dance, called "pantot" or "pasayaw", which is believed to bring them good health Old women also come up the stage to dance, be it in thanksgiving for recovery from an illness or in the hope of getting healed from an ailment

After all of the babies had been given their turn at the pantot, the stage was

cleared and four chairs set up in the middle for the four children called on stage as

representatives of the families who would be the "hermano" and "hermana", or

sponsors, of the following year's Arakyo production Four actresses performed a

dance around the chairs, holding props that symbolize the Arakyo: the cross, the sword, the crown, and the Arakyo script The dance is a symbolic turn-over of stewardship over the Arakyo from the incumbent to the incoming set of hermanos

Illustration 9 "The absent audience" First day

of performance Vendors are setting up shop in

the shade The performance is underway

without an audience

Illustration 10 "audience in the shade"

Second day of performance The audience shows up, and watches from a distance, under the shade of trees

To be chosen as hermano is considered a privilege in Nueva Ecija Villagers told me that everyone wants to be an hermano and there is a waiting list to be one

Sponsoring the play is not only a matter of personal prestige but also of devotion

Many people participate in the Arakyo as a panata or devotional vow, as a way of

showing gratitude for blessings received, or in supplication for a good year to come Traditionally, only one or two members of the village, usually the wealthier and more

accomplished ones, had the opportunity to be hermano

In recent years, as many as twelve hermanos have shared the costs of

sponsoring the Arakyo in Sinasajan The financial burden of sponsoring the play has

thus lessened, as each hermano is assigned to look after the costume and food of only

a couple of actors In the past, rich members of the community fed the entire cast Villagers recount how it was more fun then, when all the performers would eat in one place during rehearsals and in between acts of the play Now, they are farmed out to different homes in smaller groups It may be less festive, but it is a more cost-effective and sustainable arrangement The less-prohibitive cost involved with being a

hermano has increased interest among villagers in volunteering to be sponsors of the play There is even a waiting list for becoming a hermano in Sinasajan, which is also

the case in neighboring barangays

It doesn't seem likely that the Arakyo performances in Nueva Ecija will disappear any time soon The cast and the band providing the musical accompaniment are composed of village youth ranging from pre-teens to the early 20's, and there is enthusiasm among the younger generation for learning the distinct delivery of lines and traditional choreography associated with the Arakyo As one actor intimated to

me "feel na feel namin ‘to" (we really feel passionately about this), adding that they felt like local stars