Let's Volt In

by Gary C. Devilles

In the late 70's my TV viewing in the afternoons was punctuated by anime shows. We called them cartoons before. Monday was Mekanda Robot, Tuesday was Daimos, Wednesday was UFO Grendaizer, Thursday was Mazinger Z, Friday was Voltes Five, and of course Saturday was Saturday Fun Machine wherein Superman and the Justice League were collectively known as "Superfriends." Of all these characters, the least would be Mekanda for until now I couldn't figure what it was all about. Daimos was, of course, melodramatic with Richard and Erica as the ill-fated star-crossed lovers. Grendaizer had the most amazing gadgets and gizmos, unlike other robots. Mazinger Z, manned by Koji Kabuto, had a sidekick named Sayaka who had Aphrodite A with boobs that were actually torpedoes. And Voltes V was the most unique, manned by five heroes, Steve, Mark, Big Bert, Little John and Jamie with each of them piloting parts of the whole machine, the head, arms, torso, legs, and feet, respectively.

Friday would not be the same without Voltes V. We would be home before 6 and start humming the opening song, "someday the sons of light shall fill all the earth," while waiting for the picture tube to light up since in those days. It really took time to turn on the TV which looked more like a cupboard to me. It also took an effort to switch channels during the pre-remote control days. I think I was in 2nd grade then when Voltes V became popular and was still studying in Bagong Ilog Elementary School with Rommel Manlimos and Engelbert Luat, who would later become my classmates again in junior high.

Voltes V was remarkable because even though I didn't understand much of the dialogue then, I think the plot was intelligible enough for kids. I remember one Beast Fighter by the Bozanian Empire that was actually a mean wild dog with an ability to shrink back to its normal size, and thus can be invisible. There was this puppy that Little John took care of, who happened to remember that the Beast Fighter was actually the one who killed its mother. The puppy summoned all its strength to get the device that made the Beast Fighter become smaller so that Voltes V could finally defeat it. When the puppy succeeded, Voltes V screamed to the heavens for its laser sword. And with all the lightning and the music background, we could also hear our hearts pounding for the puppy's victory and justice. The last scene of that episode was really poignant with Little John bidding farewell to that puppy. And, of course, the melancholic song in the end credits made our emotions palpable and real.

So it was bad news when, one day, Marcos ordered all cartoon shows be cancelled off the air. Talk about puppy injustice. I felt sick without those shows considering that we were almost nearing the end of the season when Steve and his brother would finally be reunited with their father, Dr. Armstrong. Something about innocence was lost and I became aware of a malevolent power that could take away my afternoon fun.

When I got hold of a complete episodes of Voltes V three years ago in pirated dvd format, I wasted no time watching all of them. It was amazing learning that Camp Big Falcon turned out to be a spaceship in itself that merged with the Solar Bird and headed towards Bozania to rescue Dr. Armstong, the leader of resistance. Prince Zardo happened to be Steve's brother. And in their final confrontation, Prince Zardo would actually sacrifice his life to save Steve. All's well that ends well. It feels really uncanny that Voltes V was all about resistance, advocating for social change and justice, and reunion with loved ones. Anime or cartoons, they bear the mark of our unconscious, our secret desires, and wishful thinking. In a world where there is much trouble and pain, these anime are never escape routes. At least for me, they can articulate what otherwise I would suffer only in silence then.

Lines

by Gary C. Devilles

Two parallel lines cut by a transversal will have congruent alternate interior angles.

I’m not so sure why such a statement got stuck with me since high school geometry. Whether I am autistic or am just having a case of déjà-vu, such a statement is called an axiom or theorem - to be demonstrated as true and irrefutable. In Mrs. Maralit’s class, believe it or not, we deal with truths and logical reasoning, some things I did not see then as evident as today.

It was in the middle of the school year of 1986 when my father told us that he was among those retrenched from work. Whatever money he would get as separation compensation would be deposited in Banco Filipino since he planned to work abroad. Things went awry when Banco Filipino had a bank run and we could not withdraw our money. Worse, my father could not find any work.

Due to this financial constraint, I was going to have to stop schooling. I was so down that particular afternoon because, deep inside, I didn’t want to stop. Of all people, it was the taciturn Dennis Calinao who would approach me and ask what happened. I told him my problem and he suggested that I talk directly to the principal, something I did not expect from Dennis since talking to the principal was just not within my capability. But he prodded and told me that he would stay with me until class was over as long as I talked to Mr. Antonio B. Cruz. It was around 7:00 pm, I think, that I braved the office and asked the secretary if I could talk to the principal. Mr. Cruz accommodated me and told me that he might know someone who could help. I asked Mr. Cruz, if it’s possible that he talked to my parents so that he could verify whether I was telling the truth. He just said there’s no need. He asked me if I ever lied and of course I told him no, at least not about our financial situation.

The following day, Mrs. Maralit, our Algebra teacher, approached me about my problem. She was asked by Mr. Cruz to help me draft a letter to the benefactors who could support me with my education. That afternoon, Mrs. Maralit edited the letter I made, took it, sealed it in an envelope, and promised that she would deliver it personally. A month would pass and I would receive a letter from the Knights of Columbus, telling me that they could help me only for a year since, technically, I do not qualify because they only provided scholarships for Pasig residents, and I was officially a resident of Taguig.

Mrs. Maralit talked to me that afternoon and told me that I should be thankful even if they were only supporting me for one year. The only way I could have another scholarship in PCC is if I made it to the top three of the batch. The first honor usually gets a full scholarship. Mrs. Maralit promised that she would tutor me for free and that I would have to do extra lessons in math which meant staying late during weekdays and on Saturdays. She was indeed very patient with me. At first, I couldn’t get to solve word problems. But then, eventually, I would get the hang of it. It was not only me then that Mrs. Maralit would give extra lessons to. There was also Armand Fabia who was a senior, I think, who was with me doing calculus and trigonometry. It was Fabia who later said that I should do advanced reading in geometry and in the sciences to prepare me for a quiz bee competition in Don Bosco. Our adviser then was Mrs. Reyes but she was on leave. Ms. Santos, a student teacher, helped me locate the books in the library that I could use. That was when I found a copy of our biology workbook that I photocopied and reviewed.

However, things did not go well with that biology workbook. It found its way to some classmates and before we knew it, people were already complaining about some wise-asses who photocopied the workbook, answered it, and then used it as crib notes. I was one of those implicated. Mrs. Reyes talked to me one afternoon and I told her that although I did photocopy the workbook, I was doing it for advance lessons since I had a month to go for the competition. She understood me. But I was down and mad at my classmates for making a heap out of the situation. I just told myself that I would have my revenge soon.

It was the summer of 1987, while doing geometry problems, when Mrs. Maralit told me that she would be our adviser for the coming school year and that a major re-sectioning of students would take place. She told me that almost half of the students of Cardinal would go to other sections, and there would be only one honors class, Robin. And she was tasked to do the re-sectioning. I volunteered to help her by typing the list of students. When she was not around I would actually exact my revenge to my classmates by placing their names in other sections. There was one particular classmate that I placed in Lark, knowing that he knew no one in that class, and that would be the death of him. Of course it was silly of me to do that, but I was a kid then, having my day.

Junior year would be tough for me, not only for my family, but also for my studies. Although I was a scholar, the pressure to be no.1 was almost killing me. We didn’t have any money and my dad already started selling our appliances one by one. Almost everyday I would go to the nearby sari-sari store and ask for a credit loan for whatever we needed. But there was also a time when we were rejected a credit line since we failed to settle our mounting debts. Mom was really devastated that day that she only gave us our allowance enough only for our jeepney fare. My sister was studying in CBC across our school. That afternoon, she was so thirsty and asked me if I could give her water since the nun who was tending the store in her school refused to give her any more water and she was told to buy soft drinks! That was so cruel of that nun in CBC. I told her we could go to Mrs. Maralit’s house and there we could get a drink. Later then, I told Mrs. Maralit about my problem, and she told me that I could actually work as a tutor for some of her tutees and get paid in return. My sister, on the other hand, would eventually work for my cousin and sell confectioneries to classmates so that she would also have extra money. Months would pass, and we would somehow survive. Dad would eventually find a work in Saudi Arabia. Junior year would end and I would get the scholarship I needed for my senior year.

Euclid must really be dazed in imagining an ideal world where parallel lines can be extended without meeting at any point. In reality, my geometry teacher, Mrs. Maralit, would teach me instead that in life, lines are not just parallel; they do intersect and sometimes converge. My classmate whom I exacted revenge by placing him in the section unfamiliar to him, would later be a successful architect for which lines would be a preoccupation for him. He would also be one of my closest and most respected friends. In time, when all accounting is done, we learn to forgive as well - true and irrefutable.

The Tyranny

by Gary C. Devilles

Twenty three years ago, we were in grade school and I was new to 6-sultan, the honors class of that graduating batch. I found myself sitting beside the science wiz Irving Raymundo, Rolando Lopez the hyena at my back and the ever generous Oliver Martin who often invites us over his place after class, for a light merienda, an Atari video game, and when his parents are away, porn viewing. We were in the first row. The next row was the international group with Gilbert Santos and Gary Pueblo who just came back from the US, Willie Blue Bussel, the Fil-am from International School. I remember Ms. Berdan asking Gary where he came from and Gary replying that he hails from Bembeng Boookeeyd.

1984 was the year the film Return of the Jedi was released. At that time I couldn’t afford to watch movies but the film was remarkable for I have to know characters like Darth Vader for which the wunderkind Ferdie Evangelista would be fondly called based on his haircut that looks like a helmet. There are also the jocks like the gentle beast Nestor “Chunky” Ramos, the actor-singer Bong Estrada, the kung fu hustler Rodrigo Vagilidad, and the prankster Joey Manalad. At that time, it was hard to know who belongs to the dark side of the force but one should not try to be a Skywalker unless one risks being tagged as Chewbakka. One of the few lessons I learned early then is being prudent.

In our English class we had the oratorical contest in which we were supposed to memorize an essay and recite it eloquently. The title of the piece was something like, “The Tyranny, the Youth, the Hope, and the Fulfillment.” I forgot who wrote it, but the thing is - eloquence meant a lot of things to us back then, dramatic, hilarious, or something in between.

Joel del Rosario was one of those who surprised us with his rendition of screaming “The Tyranny” out of the depths of his soul that made us awfully silent, anticipate his move, diction, and brio. But immediately silence turned into a ruckus when Joel mistakenly said “the young” instead of “the youth.” Even Ms. Amelia Berdan, our teacher, couldn’t contain her amusement. I believe there were many who erred too but Joel was the one I can vividly recall. Anyway, those were the days when mistakes can be forgiven by laughing it away.

Soon the oratorical piece became a class activity and Joey Manalad was tasked to direct the class. Joey thought that depicting the assassination of Ninoy Aquino would be the opening salvo of the piece with Ronald Ablaza playing Ninoy and Rolando Lopez (or was it Jay Lorenzo?) as the assassin Galman. Ms. Berdan believed that the idea was good and brave, considering in retrospect now, that it was still the Marcos regime when no one was safe, even us in the campus. But we proceeded with the idea and worked with it. I could still remember some lines such as “I am the youth of the land, I was told that I was ignorant, that I was soft and easy-going. I was accused of not having the right attitude. And since I don’t have the right attitude my leaders tell me, that they do not know where this country is headed for...”

The ending of the piece was quite spectacular. Joey asked some of us to drop confetti as the theme song of Chariots of Fire (a movie) by Vangelis was being played. The ending was our version of that fateful event in 1983 when the procession for Ninoy proceeded to Ayala and Makati office workers from their buildings stopped and dropped confetti as the mass of people swarmed and marched to the streets.

Needless to say, the piece was a crowning glory for our class. But more than the winning, what was amazing is the fact that we were young, yet not quite innocent, rascal but keen, and unassuming though sharp. We could not forgive what happened and we were initiated to politics right there and then. Many things would happen before we graduate in 1984 but somehow those years swept to us and we felt the storm looming in our horizon.

Within the next two years, there would be EDSA revolution. As a sophomore, I would join Mr. Romeo Saguisag, Ms. Lelith Adriano, Mr. Antonio “Noo” Cruz (our principal) and some TAHAK (Tanghalang Hayskul ng Kumbento) actors together with our mentors from Dulampasigan group to troop to EDSA anniversary and give free glass of water. We were stationed near the Tropical Hamburger across POEA. We would listen to radio and hum the tune of Magkaisa, popularized by Verni Lisa. We had stickers and pins of Hindi Ka Nag-iisa. Some wore yellow shirts and bands. Others would hail the L sign for Laban or Liberal Party. We prayed with people from all walks of life. I still remember seeing Jim Paredes of Apo Hiking Society, standing near our water station. At that time everyone was walking and we would eat peanuts sold by ambulant vendors along the way.

That was in 1987, and almost twenty years would pass and I would find myself teaching in Ateneo. This will be my fifteenth year of teaching and I would still be asking questions about what really happened back then in 1986 to unfortunate students who later I’ll find out have no idea whatsoever of those fateful years. They were too young to remember. But I still ask myself today how much older one should be to see that nothing much has changed especially when one hears of innocent people bombed and killed or a 12 year old committing suicide out of poverty. The oratorical piece we had in grade school asked a relevant question I failed to understand.

I have to go back and see where we went wrong.

Huggable Hernan Hunsubscribes

There has been another victim of the "unsubscription syndrome". Huggable Hernan decided to unsubscribe from our yahoogroup last week after an event concerning the privacy of his email address.

Now, this is just the kind of thing that we do not like to happen. The primary reason for us having the e-group is for us to keep in touch with each other. And once you unsubscribe, the connection which easily links you to us is lost.

Our group is a mix of so many different personalities. And we surely have differences in opinion. We can disagree about certain points (and we certainly have disagreed about many things in the past). But always remember that we can disagree without being disagreeable.

I hope Hernan realizes soon enough that life at kumbento88-B can be terribly lonesome.

Suntukan Na

This is to authorize the following students, Rod Vagilidad and Chunky Ramos, to have a fighting match to be held at the Plaza later this afternoon at 2PM.

Something to that effect was written on a piece of paper. The paper was cleverly folded to conceal the message that it actually contained. And our Practical Arts teacher, Mr. Dalis, was supposed to sign the letter at the bottom part to formalize this authorization letter.

Okay, just how will we do it?

It was one of those seatwork sessions in 1st year high school Practical Arts where we we were supposed to finish the templates he taught us to draw. And as we know, it was quite free to roam around the Prac Arts classroom during these times.

"Sir, pagandahan tayo ng pirma.", urged one classmate.

Mr. Dalis, a bit perplexed on this unusual request by a student, reluctantly gave in with a nod.

By this time, a bunch of other students has now gathered around them to witness this "signature contest".

"O sige sir ha, mauuna 'ko", volunteers the student who then proceeds to affix his signature on a scratch paper.

"Ayan, sir. Ganda ng pirma ko, 'no? O kayo naman." handing out the other piece of paper prepared specifically for the teacher to sign on, careful that the paper remains folded so that he wouldn't be able to read what is actually written inside of it.

Mr. Dalis signs the paper with much gusto.

"Wow! Galing pala ng pirma nyo, sir. Mas maganda nga yang pirma nyo.", says the student while immediately taking away the signed paper and holding it side by side with his very own signed paper, as if really comparing the two signatures on which one had the better strokes.

The bunch of students gathered around agrees, then proceeds back to their own seats as if nothing happened.

"O game. Authorized na ni Dalis yung suntukan mamaya.", the student spreads the news.

Practical Arts was supposed to be one of the subjects in school where we would be able to learn things that we can readily apply in everyday practical living. But I am pretty sure Social Engineering wasn't the title of that first year course taught to us.

Homepage of the K88 Rigmarolers

Welcome to the homepage of Kumbento88!

Finally. A homepage for our batch.

What started out as a short email list during the mid-90's, it eventually expanded into our present yahoogroup mailing list. And now, this blog-style homepage.

Home of the K88 Rigmarolers.

For those who were not yet updated with the group when the term "rigmarolers" was coined, and are wondering what-the-heck "rigmarolers" mean, here's a brief backgrounder.

The yahoogroup of K88 served several functions for our batch. It was a bulletin board for announcements, a repository of jokes and other forwarded materials (thank God we have somehow managed to filter out the not-so-desirable forwards, well, uhm, at least, most of the time), a discussion group for topics ranging from sports to finance to what-have-you, and inevitably, a forum for arguments which has unfortunately led to the "unsubscribing" of some members.

With that said, we can say that the yahoogroup was open to discussions about anything and everthing under the sun. And in one of those discussions, our ever-vocabulary-rich member, Gary D, mentioned the term "rigmarole". Of course, the wise-ass members in the group would not let this slip that easily. And so the jestful use of the term "rigmarole" was born.

Merriam-Webster defines rigmarole as follows:

Main Entry: rig·ma·role
Variant(s): also rig·a·ma·role
Function: noun
Etymology: alteration of obsolete ragman roll
long list, catalog
1 : confused or meaningless talk
2 : a complex and sometimes ritualistic procedure

And with the opening of the first-ever Kumbento Boys' Basketball League, we used the monicker "Rigmarolers" as the name of our teams (one of which by the way, eventually came out champion, just in case you didn't know).

And so again, we welcome everyone who has been part of our batch. Even if you didn't get to graduate with us in 1988, even if you have been a part of our batch for just a single year, we urge you to join us. No ifs, no buts. You are one of us. Let us live the brotherhood of the Kumbento Boys.