It’s school time once again! Brings back the smell of fresh crayons, newly sharpened pens, bubble-gummy erasers and new notebooks and textbooks (obviously, I never outgrew first grade).
Speaking of textbooks, you might chance upon your housemates holding a Rizal textbook called “Over His Dead Body.” Although I cringe at the audacity of the title, I cannot be-rate it so much as I am part of this book.
Two years ago, I was asked to contribute to an English rework of a Tagalog Rizal book. Why the principal authors chose me, I wouldn’t know. All I know is that they are colleagues of my Mom and they somehow knew of my journalism work in high school and my first job in a publishing company.
So I accepted the challenged and slaved for days brushing up on my kinakalawang na Tagalog, and some Spanish to boot. I was assigned to translate the history of Rizal’s last farewell as well as translate to English Rizal’s Mi Ultimo Adios. The former is relatively easy as I just have to re-state in English how I understand the historical facts. The latter was more nerve-racking as I was scared of ruining the sanctity of that immortal piece.
I refused to read the many Tagalog translations of Mi Ultimo Adios and translate directly to English. That was easy but I was aghast at how most of the Tagalog translations already re-interpreted the poem so that it has lost its “soul.” Poems should be left as they are because their beauty lies on how the reader will interpret it. Having said that, it is senseless to make a poem on how you interpreted another poem.
So I went long cut and read Rizal’s original Spanish piece and translated it word for word to English and then looped them up into a complete poem. I remember being such an OC on the translation that I couldn’t decide for days if I were to use Fatherland or Motherland. Technically, it was Fatherland (adios, PATRIA adorada) but Motherland was more accepted and more poetic.
I hope Rizal is nor turning in his grave after my “vandalism” of his work.
Months after I submitted the final draft, I received the final published copy of the book. Two things hit me like a bullet in Luneta (ok… bad pun). One is the title of the textbook (enough said) and the other is my name on the acknowledgment page. It read: “The translated version of Mi Ultimo Adios in English is made through the efforts of Mr. Bernard Crisostomo, a poet and writer of Malolos, Bulacan.”
OK… “Mr” makes me look old…“Writer” is acceptable…. but “poet!” I have published a grand total of four poems in the school paper before but I don’t know if that qualifies me as a poet. Well, at least they got my name and birthplace right.
I heard unfounded rumors that this book has been bought for publication in the US. If that happens, then a Pulitzer Prize might not be far behind. Haha…dream on!!! If only this book has a title that sounds more like a textbook/reference book and not like a slasher gothic novel.
Blog Exclusive!
Note: “Blog Exclusive” is a bonus feature in this blog. This indicates things that I seldom or will never talk about. Yeah, kinda ironic I know coz I am immortalizing it in print here. All I am saying is this a peek into my very personal space, a bonus for those who fondly read my blogs. You can can quote what I say here but I will deny it vehemently in person. It should be just between the two of us. Ayt?
Beginning this blog, I will also start my Top 5 Whatever, which is somehow related to the topic of my blog. Since it is back to school time, here goes my…
My Top 5 School Memories (A Blog Exclusive!!!)
5. Being locked inside the UP College of Business Admin Building not once but twice! The org tambayans are in the topmost floor and we were busy doing orgwork/thesis work and somehow the guards conveniently forgot to check if there are still humans upstairs. On our first lockdown, the guard at the Econ Building saw us and let us out (but not without a token memo from our College Secretary). On our second lockdown, we had to let ourselves out through the windows of the 2nd floor back lobby which leads to the 1st floor lobby overhang and then to a low concrete wall. I got bruises to show for it.
4. Like Jesus, I fell three times! Episode #1 was during 3rd grade on our way to First Friday Mass. We were all in line and walking steadily until the newly waxed wooden stairs decided to teach me a lesson in friction (or lack thereof) and I slid down the stairs. I went down 5 steps sitting on my ass and the only redeeming factor was that I didn’t stumble over the people infront (which would have triggered a domino effect). Episode #2 was in 1st Year High School when I slipped on mud while playing a very childish game. Good thing I had a jacket to cover my muddied pants. Episode #3 was in college (yes, college!) when I was walking briskly at Edsa cor. Q. Ave carrying all my presentation materials. My kinda-long jeans unfolded and I tripped! That led to the biggest knee bruise I ever got.
3. Getting Physical with the Bully. I was having an asaran session with one of our classroom bullies and to stress my point I pointed a finger to his face. To my horror, I miscalculated my move and I ended up poking his big eyes. Dear bully cried like a baby and when our teacher arrived, he came to my defense and reprimanded dear bully even more (ha, the perks of being a teacher’s pet).
2. My Turn As Dracula. As a member of the Drama Club in elementary (and a multi-awarded classroom actor to boot), I was asked to be the Dracula in the Horror Booth for the school fair. I was positioned in a makeshift bridge which the students cross to get to the exit. And from the darkness I was supposed to spook them out. I must have been on my best-actor mode coz this 2nd grade hit me on the face as I was scaring him. To get my revenge I chased him to the exit where a hideous monster awaits him. The power of two horrors was too much... he fainted.
1. The Real Horror. For a strictly Catholic school, our elem school was besieged with spooky tales and urban legends that you cannot separate the real from the legends. Who can forget the corridors that gets eerie at twilight and the forbidden areas where nuns stay but are infested by bats. There were the “dark” days in 4th grade when Satanism was the buzz word. People with red eyes supposedly kidnap students for their liver, the sun supposedly danced and we feared the 3 days of darkness. My own encounter with the unexplainable kind happened in 6th grade. I have this spooked-out feeling the entire day and I have to stay late despite the early dismissal. After my library duty, I got out to get some air and noticed this weird cloud formation that reminds me of an Archangel (the one in the Ginebra bottles). Later that day, I heard news that an Archangel was seen near Taal Volcano. But the real horror was when my school service-mates and I were sitting in the middle stairway facing the highschool building (across the quadrangle). It was almost twilight by then and the entire school was almost empty. We were talking and my gaze suddenly turned to a classroom in the high school building. There, in the far side, sat a lone black figure with long hair. It was facing the blackboard then its head slowly turned to my direction. I didn’t check out what it was, I just ran for dear life to the nearest gate. My companions didn’t even know what hit me. Maybe what I saw was nothing but a trick of my eye but that incident still gives me goose bumps to this day. During my sister’s stay in that highscool, there were more bizarre tales (of possessed student and more haunting visions).