manong & manang

Kalinga, Philippines 2001

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danum 

salidummay

1st International Babaylan Conference

What does babaylan mean?

Babaylan is a Filipino word that refers specifically to an individual or a group of healers, mostly women, who were acknowledged by friends and family as possessing extraordinary gifts… having a gift of vision; an ability to see through schemes or situations and later advise on future plans... or the gift for healing; a specific touch or intuited or passed-on knowledge to specific processes of ‘fixing’ and ‘putting’ people and things together. The first priority of all Babaylan [is] her community. --- Carlos Villa.

Check out the Center for Babaylan Studies here.
Check out the program here.
Register here.

Listen to the interview on APEX on KPFA. Interview starts at 22 minutes.

APEX Express - February 4, 2010 at 7:00pm

Click to listen (or download)

Rocky Rivera Album Release Party

Congratulations to Rocky!

If you haven't seen the video yet, you are hella late.

Download the MRSHMLO Rmx by 6Fingers at the Smoking Section
Check out Rocky's Blog, Guerilla Busfare.

David Byrne & Fatboy Slim’s Imelda Marcos Tribute Album

From: Prometheus Brown

When I first heard about this project a month ago, I thought to myself, either David Byrne and Fatboy Slim don’t know or don’t care that Imelda Marcos was essentially a co-dictator of a third world country who suffered greatly under her and her husband Ferdinand Marcos’ regime. That her tens of thousands of shoes, a symbol of audacious glamour and wealth to hipsters like them, is for us Filipinos (and most normal human beings) a symbol of the poverty and repression their wealth was built upon. I didn’t want to lash out against a project I knew little about, so I waited to hear and see more.

Then this slideshow video promoting the album dropped, with quotes from David Byrne himself as he narrates an even more sugarcoated story than I could’ve imagined. It opens with a shot of young beauty-queen Imelda, followed with some revisionist history claiming that she was “forced to flee the Philippines” as if she were the victim. Then something about being fascinated with “the needs that drive powerful people” and how her story resonates and how she loved going to dance clubs in New York. All while her people starved and got jailed, tortured or killed for trying to do something about it. The slideshow doesn’t include that last part, of course.
(Read more.)

july sky

volunteer milita. philippines. 2002

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Every year around this time, the neighborhood is poppin’. Literally. The heat of the summer is beginning to settle in. The block starts to get hot. When fireworks start to pop off, I can’t help but pause for a moment and wonder if it was live ammunition. Drive-bys here are no ghetto fairy tale. They happen.

And it’s not just here. Bullets fly world wide. Bombs are bursting in air. On other parts of the globe, children fear the very sounds that give American children joy. While traveling in the Philippines, I photographed a group of volunteer militia. A few months prior, I had spent time with people who had fought with or supported guerilla forces. I heard horror stories about these volunteer militias. I thought of Leno Brocka’s, “Oropronobis”, a film about human rights violations committed by volunteer militias during the Aquino administration. I wanted to hate these men, but instead I thought of the tragedy of war itself--not the men holding the guns. They gave themselves to the lens without hestitation and with all honesty--the war machine cranking its gears right before my eyes.

On the Fouth of July, I remember that war is real. As I marvel at the beauty of the July sky, a part of me is quite and thankful for the privilege of entertainment and the opportunity to enjoy a summer night. I remember those I have met who have been in war. And I take a moment of silence for those who have lost their lives in the struggle.

For Tata

“All our guns and machine gun placements were hit directly and nearly the whole area was burning because of incendiary bombs. We were not able to eat nor drink anything during those two days...The Red Cross hospital was bombed, leaving pieces of human bodies hanging on the trees and mangled bodies everywhere in sight. On April 9th, Gen. Wainwright ordered all Bataan forces to surrender. We were then ordered by the Japanese to line up on one side of the street without our guns and pistols."
~Excerpt from the Memoirs of Marciano Lim, my grandfather

My grandfather served in the United States Armed Forces of the Far East (USAFFE) in the Philippines during World War II. This excerpt tells of his escape from the Bataan Death March and his journey back home. Prisoners of war in the march were subject to starvation, beheadings, casual shooting, disembowelment, and bayonet stabbings. By seeking opportunity and seizing upon his courage, he was able to escape Japanese forces. He had to abandon his military clothing, including his shoes, and walk barefoot for miles while sick with malaria. He walked for three days. Sadly, upon his arrival he was told that his first child, a son, had died just a few days before.

Losing a child is unimaginable; as were many conditions faced by our elders. Somehow they were able to endure, love, and create life. How strong the force is that pulls us toward home and family. It is that force that is responsible for my existence today. And for, that I am grateful.

From T-B, L-R: Marciano Lim(grandfather), Miguela Lim(grandmother), Crispin Lim(uncle), Geronima Marcelino (aunt), Ana Nazareno(aunt), Denny Lim (my father), Miguela Lim, Marciano Lim, Lea Carnero(aunt).

my people at work