Finding my Place in Taboan

The melodic tribal sound of Kolintang, played by the students, seeped through the Bulwagang Rizal in UP Diliman as the Taboan Writer’s Festival was about to begin. I stood in the outermost corner of the hall, after I signed my name at the entrance. My eyes searched for friends who also want to witness and experience the first Philippine International Writers Conference. After all, it marked a significant event in the Philippines as the country celebrates the month of February as the National Arts Month. I didn’t come to do a speech or sign a newly published book, and definitely not an official participant (my professor said you have to write a book first to be one), so I didn’t get free bags, books and other freebies. My presence was made merely to be a silent spectator, who dreamed of making a difference in my country, but is yet to find her rightful place in the solitary world of writing,

I joined my friends who arrived earlier, a moment before the program began. We immediately spotted Dr. Marj Evasco who waved her hand to greet us. Beside her was the National Artist for Literature, Francisco Sionil Jose, who was wearing his signature hat; clutch purse tucked in his right arm, and a lacquer-finished cane between his legs matched his simple elegant look. We walked our way to where they were seated and Dr. Marj was quick to introduce him to us.
“Meet the national artist”
“They’re my students” Dr. Marj quickly added, turning her head to him.
My friends began to rummage for their digital cameras inside their bags, determined not to let this rare occasion passed without a picture with the famous author. I, who happened not to own one, was able to shake his hand first. On the spot, he asked me, “What do you write?”, I startled like a child caught playing instead of doing her homework, but I regained my composure and replied that I am now learning to write the art of lies and poetry. I moved on after I mastered “to do” and grocery lists. His eyes disappeared as he smiled and said everyone has to start somewhere.

Later, in his speech, Francisco Sionil Jose left a statement worth pondering about: "We are writers, but what impact do we have on our history? We do not make the decisions that alter the nation's destiny. And what can the solitary writer do now that will make a difference?... We must bear this duty, endure it, if we are to be true not just to the vocation we have chosen but to this land which sustains us, which gave us life and reason to be."
I started thinking, the world is in a bad situation, whether making an impact or changing one’s nation is overwhelming, others would think it’s impossible. Who would listen and honestly believed that writing was not only a diversion, but deliverance; not a temporary relief but a resolution? But John Steinback said, “A good writer always works at the impossible”. As a reader and as an aspiring writer, I have seen how writers served as a rescue for our tired, overcrowded planet by telling stories that connect readers to all the people on earth. To hear that the work you do inspires someone else to be creative, makes everything worth it. And to hear about it is a gift. Words are the most powerful tools at our disposal. With them, writers have saved lives and taken them, brought justice and confounded it, started wars and ended them. Writers can change the way we think and transform our definitions of right and wrong.
Whenever I write fiction or poetry, I tried to identify my own subject, thread the theme and the subject into the work without becoming didactic. My efforts at both scales are required to truly make a difference and I see my future as offering opportunities for continued growth at both. I did not see it as impossibility. To succeed, maybe, I need to read more and surf gracefully with the waves of life.
Franciso Sionil Jose’s speech ended, audience applauded. In Cebuano, Taboan means “meeting place”, and the festival was definitely a good place to be with the crowd of brilliant minds, ideas, and writers. Whether I was sitting down or standing up in the outermost corner of the hall, being a part of the event was worth enough. After all, I came to observe, listen and shake hands with literary talents whose works I have read and admired. And that would be all...for now.