‘MR. SHOOLI’ GOES ONLINE

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

Blame it to the pandemic.

Veteran comedian, director, and pundit Jun Urbano, aka “Mr. Shooli,” was doing nothing during the lockdown arising from the pandemic caused by the so-called China-Duterte Virus (or Covid-19) when he had thought of reviving the famed “Mongolian Barbecue,” the TV satire program of the 1980s.

“Wala akong ginagawa (I was doing nothing). I was unhappily retired,” Mr. Urbano says when asked what has motivated him to revive the TV satire program and Mr. Shooli, the loquacious but intelligent main character of that TV program.

Mr. Urbano says he wants to contribute his share to the national discourse on nagging issues confronting the country, but “I do not want to lecture.” That is the reason he had thought of bringing back Mr. Shooli to the public limelight. He has decided to talk through Mr. Shooli.

But reviving Mongolian Barbecue and bringing back Mr. Shooli to public consciousness were easier said than done. No TV network was willing to gamble on a TV program that has been out of public view for three decades. The commercial aspect was too obvious to ignore.

Besides, Mr. Urbano admits he is now 81. Young people, or the –so-called “millennials,” hardly know him. They have a vague idea of Mr. Shooli, the character whom he had created when he was 50 years old. But he is determined to reintroduce himself to the new audience by being truthful and politically correct. He knows he is on the right side of history.

Mr. Urbano admits he has no big money to spend for the return of his baby. The only choice is to go online, where production cost is much lower. Why not tap cyberspace for this new venture? It appears to be the perfect communications platform for its revival.

When friends have learned of his project either by reading his post or word of mouth, friends from various walks of life came to his rescue. Showing the much vaunted spirit of volunteerism among kindred spirits, they have volunteered their services – mostly free – to ensure its return on a new medium and platform in the cyberspace.

For instance, veteran music composer and arranger Nonong Buencamino, also a social media denizen, has volunteered to compose a jingle – free of charge – for the program. Mr. Buencamino has composed a new jingle, of which Mr. Urbano was already satisfied, but says he is not satisfied, as he intends to produce a “better one,” according to Urbano.

Friends of his sons have volunteered the use of production equipment – also free of charge, lessening the burden of initial outlay. He had heard several offers, including its marketing from his friends in the advertising industry. In the past, Mr. Urbano directed commercials under the auspices of those advertising agencies, which had corporate clients.

Mr. Urbano says he would not digress from the old formula that had made Mongolian Barbecue a successful TV program during the days when Cory Aquino dismantled the Marcos dictatorship and provided a much wider democratic space for the living arts. The revived Mr. Shooli would address the burning issues, including controversial political, economic, and social issues.

Mr. Shooli intends to inject humor in the program. Since the revived program is still having birth pains in this age of the pandemic and social media, Mr. Urbano says netizens would see the program being dominated by him. He intends to bring old characters like sidekick Kuhol in later episodes, as the revived program takes root in its new platform in the cyberspace.

The revived Mongolian Barbecue would have its maiden episode on Sunday (Nov. 1) on Youtube. They have yet to set the time.

Jun Urbano’s politics is essentially left-of-center. Since his days at the Ateneo University, where he completed his elementary, high school, and college education (he finished journalism), Urbano had come to relish and appreciate the value of public criticisms and the importance of instituting changes. Politics has been a staple stuff even in old Mongolian Barbecue and Mr. Shooli as its lead character did not hesitate to criticize and pontificate at times.

Mr. Shooli had blinded objects of his criticisms with his unrestrained combination of science and humor, endearing him to the TV audience. He had mocked and laughed at genuinely powerful people and those despicable characters, pretenders, and hangers-on who kept on strutting along the corridors of power.

Mr. Urbano feels the Filipino people are hungry for these stuff. They have not lost their sense of humor despite the grueling challenges of the pandemic and inept rule of the current leadership. While saying he was not that partisan, he has likened politicians to a series of tropical storms, which keep on coming over.

“Parang mga bagyo ang mga pulitiko. Mananalasa at maninira, at aalis. Pero eto na naman ang panibagong bagyo (Politicians are like storms, which come to destroy and leave),” Mr. Urbano says, as he expressed dismay over the vicious cycle of underperforming politicians. “Kanya-kanyang bata sa pulitika dito (it’s politics of patronage here).”

Mr. Urbano is aware that his new project could meet resistance from people with whom he did not see eye-to-eye. But being truthful has its own dividends, he says. He is hopeful that commercial sponsors would come to help the program to expand and stay in its new platform.

As Jun Urbano embarks on a new venture rightfully at the sunset of his life, he could not help but feel that staying at home and doing nothing at the height of a pandemic had its own virtue, bliss, and reward. The rebirth of his old baby is forthcoming.

13Santos Jr Pangilinan, Teng Montalbo and 11 others

A VISIT TO MALOLOS CITY

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

A visit to Malolos City is a historical pilgrimage.

I have learned the rich heritage of Malolos City, when I went with a group of colleagues and friends for a brief visit on a rainy Friday, Aug. 21, 2015, an official holiday.

Malolos, 45 kilometers north of Manila, is the capital city of Bulacan province. Because of its proximity to Manila, Malolos City is getting industrialized as indicated by the rising number of commercial establishments and factories that have relocated there. It is a first class city with a population of slightly over a quarter of million people scattered in 52 barangays.

Malolos City is described as Bulacan’s premier heritage center because of its numerous ancestral houses, chapels and historical sites, and structures that date back to the Spanish and American colonial rules. In 2001, the National Historical Institute has declared as national heritage landmark the historic center of Malolos City. It is now known as the Malolos Heritage Town. Hence, Malolos City has joined the likes of Vigan City, which has been declared earlier as a World Heritage Site, Taal in Batangas, Guinobatan in Albay, Zamboanga City, and several others known to possess the charm and ambiance of Hispanic towns that have survived the ravages of time.

Our first stop was the historic Barasoain Church, site of the First Philippine Congress (or Malolos Congress), which convened on September 15, 1898 to draft the first Philippine Constitution, or the Malolos Constitution, to govern the First Philippine Republic. Located along Paseo del Congreso in the heart of this city, this church was also the site of the inauguration of the First Philippine Republic on January 23, 1899. 

Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo, leader of the revolutionary forces that defeated the Spanish colonial power, took his oath in this church as president of the First Philippine Republic. A hundred years later, movie actor Joseph Estrada took his oath here as the 13th president of the Philippine Republic. It was a coincidence that the two presidents, who took their office there, did not finish their terms of office. Aguinaldo was later captured in the coastal town of Palanan in Isabela province, while Estrada was kicked out of office in the second EDSA People Power Revolution, aptly called "EDSA Dos," in 2001.

Jose Roly Marcelino, officer-in-charge of arts and culture of the Malolos Tourism Council, welcomed us at the doorstep of the Church’s adjacent two-story convent, where Aguinaldo held office as president of the revolutionary government. Before going to the real beef, Roli showed us the horse-drawn carriage, which Aguinaldo rode en route to the Church to take his oath. Motorized cars were non-existent during those days. Hence, the carriage, preserved in its original form, was the  perfect vehicle. It was on display on the ground floor near the staircase to the second floor.

Although the convent has been preserved in its original form, its second floor has been converted into the Barasoain Museum since 1999 to house the various relics, pictures, and other materials related to the First Philippine Republic. Roli, who served as our guide during our visit, told us the other change made to the convent is the construction of two additional wings, where the parish priest holds office and resides with other church workers. The new wings were built shortly after Estrada took his oath of office there in 1998.

Our visit to the Barasoain Museum was a virtual trip to memory lane. Jose Ruel Paguiligan, museum curator, joined us and provided an audio video presentation of the events that took place in that particular place. Aguinaldo held office there; he met his military generals , civilian officials of the First Republic, and visiting dignitaries in the convent. He discussed issues confronting the fledgling republic and wined and dined with them there, according to Ruel. The Museum also houses the life-sized diorama of Aguinaldo and members of His Cabinet. At this point, we discussed why Aguinaldo chose to relocate his government there instead of staying in Kawit, Cavite, where he declared independence from Spanish colonial rule. The answer: The American invading forces made a beachhead in Manila. It was easy for them to attack Kawit, which is near the Manila Bay, than Malolos, which was an interior town those days.

While going through the photographs, mostly culled from American sources and enlarged for improved viewing, we discovered bits of history that we never knew before. A picture showed William Day, head of the U.S. delegation that negotiated the Treaty of Paris, handling the check of $10 million, representing half of the $20 million cession money, to French Ambassador Jules Cambon. Luz Palacios, a former Department of Foreign Affairs official and now a faculty member of the De La Salle University – College of St. Benilde, expressed surprised why the check was given to the French diplomat instead of the Spanish delegation members.

We did not have a ready answer; neither were our resource persons. In the end, we surmised that since the negotiations were held in Paris, which was a neutral ground for the Americans and Spaniards, it was natural that the refereeing Frenchman held the check. Or was it because banking during those days was different than we use to know today? These were all conjectures though. The Barasoain Museum houses several paintings of the Fernando Amorsolo, a national artist.

Roli guided us to our second stop: the Barasoain Church. We entered into one of its side doors and marveled at the intricate artworks of its interior. Except for the roof, which gave way to the wear and tear of the years, everything remains intact. Church authorities have decided to preserve its original form, particularly the altar. By all means, it is a medium-sized church, when compared to other churches like the bigger Sto. Domingo Church in Quezon City, or Manila Cathedral in Intramuros, Manila. But it appears spacious and comfortable to accommodate the 120 or so delegates, who met there to comprise the First Philippine Congress. Roli told us that it was built using those hardened lava rocks obtained from the foot of Mt. Arayat, now an extinct volcano. They used the mixture of the white part and shells of chicken eggs and lime (apog) to build it. That mixture had strong adhesive power comparable to modern-day cement.

Roli threw an interesting question why Aguinaldo chose the Barasoain Church for the Malolos Congress. I surmised some reasons. They could not do it at the Manila Grand Opera House in the Manila district of Sta. Cruz because they were running away from the American forces, which started to attack Filipino forces. The luxurious Manila Hotel was not yet around. There was no structure, which was spacious to accommodate the Malolos Congress delegates. Roli knew I had a point, but he stunned us by telling us that the Barasoain Church has a very good acoustics. “The sound does not create echoes here. They did not have microphones during those days,” Roli said. “It was important to have good acoustical designs for structures.”

But the bigger reason, according to Roli, was the existing railroad system during those days. Roli surmised that Aguinaldo found it easy for the retreating Filipino soldiers to settle at the Barasoain Church because it was near the railroad station, which was then less than a kilometer from the church. Ruel explained the First Philippine Congress had 120 members but only more than 40 came from other provinces. Because of the distance and poor transportation, Aguinaldo had to handpick the other delegates from various parts of Bulacan. They were mostly Ilustrados, or of middle class origin.

The third stop was the ancestral house of Don Antonio Bautista, Aguinaldo’s aide de camp during the short-lived Malolos Republic. It is located on the same Paseo del Congreso, about 200 meters from the Barasoain Church. Built in 1812, the house has endured two wars: Philippine-American War and the Japanese Occupation. Lori Bautista de los Santos, the caretaker and a descendant of Don Antonio Bautista and Don Epifanio de los Santos, welcomed our group and explained that his family has adopted an “open house policy,” where interested parties are free to visit the ancestral house, see, and feel its uniqueness and charm.

The two century old ancestral house is a typical “bahay na bato,” which distinguished it from the nipa huts of the ordinary Filipinos during the Spanish and American colonial rules. It is a middle class structure of those days; it is made up of sturdy materials like bricks and hard wood. It spacious interior, high ceiling, and sides with doble ventanas (double windows) are all intended for ventilation. It furniture dates back from the Spanish colonial rule. We saw a room with a pair of Spanish wooden beds. It has a garden too. It has a land area of about 1,500 square meters, which is common during the Spanish colonial era.

Lori briefed us about the place and its owner. His great grandfather, Don Antonio Bautista, led a quiet life after the Filipino-American War. Since he inherited many pieces of property from his parents (he was the only child), he led a fairly comfortable life as an entrepreneur. He supported Manuel Quezon, although he was friendly with Aguinaldo. But he later parted ways with Aguinaldo when the latter ran against Quezon in 1935 and advocated U. S. statehood for the Philippines. When he was running for reelection in 1969, President Ferdinand Marcos had dinner in that house along with Bulacan political leaders led by Blas Ople, Governor Ignacio Santiago, Rep. Teodulo Natividad and several others. Lori even showed us several pictures of that event.

But these were not all. Somehow, Lori managed to spice up her narrative when she talked about some ghost stories about the house. Yes, there are ghosts in that house, Lori confirmed, but they are harmless ghosts, who could be her forbears who feel attached to the old house. Lori narrated how some workers doing rehabilitation workers encountered an old lady, who was mad at them for moving some pieces of furniture, including the piano. “Huwag ninyong gagalawin iyan (don’t move them),” the workers quoted the old lady as telling them. Lori gave a big laugh when told about the story, telling them it could her grandmother. Lori said she stays in the house with a daughter, but they have yet to encounter a ghost. Some workers who stayed there while doing construction works heard noises, but they did not see anybody in the house.

At this point, Vicente “Bong” Enriquez, president of the Women of Malolos Foundation, joined us at the dining table for brunch and discussed the rich cultural heritage of Malolos City. According to Bong, Malolos had created a strong middle class out of the Chinese migrants, who settled there and intermarried with the native women. This explains why many residents there have Chinese sounding names like Lim, Tanchanco, Tiongson, Tantoco, Uitancoy, Tanjosoy, Yupangco, among others.

Our discussions were incomplete without talking of food, of which Bong was knowledgeable since he is the son of the noted food historian Mila Enriquez. According to him, Malolos is an old town that existed even before the Spaniards came. Its inhabitants had booming trade and commerce with the Chinese, who later came over, settled, and married local women. This gave rise to a merchant class, which later emerged as the Ilustrados during the Spanish rule. They were rich and, ergo, came to like good food. Hence, the people of Malolos have their own cuisine, which is heavily influenced by the Chinese.

Our fourth stop was the house of Alberta Uitangcoy Santos, one of the famed 21 women of Malolos, who asked Spanish Governor Valeriano Weyler in 1888 to allow them to hold night classes to learn the Spanish language. The Spanish villa is one of the old ancestral houses near the Malolos Cathedral. Malolos City has three churches: Barasoain Church, Malolos Cathedral, and the Sta. Isabel Church. When the Filipino army retreated northward to escape the American forces, Aguinaldo ordered Gen. Antonio Luna to burn the Malolos Cathedral as part of his scorched earth policy. Luna did it. It was restored during the American colonial rule.

This time, Bong Enriquez played host. He met our group at the doorstep of the old ancestral villa and recounted the story how the 21 women of Malolos took the matter into their hands by asking the visiting Weyler to allow them to study the Spanish language despite protests by the Spanish friars, who, during those days, exerted enormous influence in Philippine society and, ergo, did not like to teach the natives of their own language. Although the Spanish official gave way to their request, the school only existed only for a few months because of persecution and harassment by the friars. Bong recounted how Jose Rizal, the national hero, extolled the women of Malolos for standing firm on what they believed was right and for empowering themselves through education.

Built in 1890, the Alberta Uitancoy-Santos ancestral house is another typical “bahay na bato,” in terms of architectural design and maximum comfort it offers to its residents. It has become a museum of sort as various pictures and mementos are on display for visitors. Bong, a descendant of one of the 21 women of Malolos, holds office there as president of the Women of Malolos Foundation.

Incidentally, Bong told us that descendants of owners of most ancestral houses in Malolos stay elsewhere; they are either in Manila or abroad. They are left to the caretakers. Their owners have adopted the “open house” policy, as visitors are allowed to take a peep of their interiors. This is why various groups in Malolos City have launched initiatives to conserve these ancestral houses for tourism purposes, Bong said. “This way, we can educate the people about what Malolos has played in history,” he said.

Our fifth and last stop was the ancestral house of Dr. Luis Santos, the son of Alberta Uitancoy Santos, which is about 100 meters away from his mother’s house. Unlike the two previous ancestral houses we earlier visited, this house has an art-deco architectural design, which became vogue during the American colonial rule. It was built in 1930, using a combination of rare Philippine hardwood from various parts of the country. Dr. Luis, who practised medicine in Malolos, was a man of exquisite taste, a perfectionist who did not settle for anything less than the best. He made sure that his house would reflect such taste for perfection and beauty.

Right at the doorstep, the opulence was readily visible. The floor at the front door is made of granite of the highest kind, while the handrails are solid marble. Upon entering the door made of narra, Ms. Anita, the caretaker, told us that the entire first floor is made of slabs of tindalo, the local teakwood acquired from the rainforest of Mindanao. Upon going to the second floor, we all looked up the ceiling to find the painting of Fernando Amorsolo, a national artist for painting. We could not help but marvel at the sight of this house.

Almost everything in the second floor is made up of hardwood of the highest quality - tindalo, narra, dao, and yakal. We were told termites could not attack the hard wood. The pieces of furniture are mostly antique that dates back to the Spanish and American colonial rules. Words were not enough to express the magnificence of this ancestral house. It all left us enthralled.

We ended up our visit to this historic city with a big smile. No, it was not an ordinary visit. It was not a sightseeing visit alone. It was not just seeing and feeling the city. It was an education. The visit has left a deep impression into our collective mind. Our country is quite young when compared to some European and Asian countries, but it is equally rich in heritage.

Our visit likewise firmed up our belief that our country could offer the two levels of tourism: ecology and heritage. We have our beaches and scenery to give tourists - local and foreign - a breather from the drudgery of daily existence. But we also have the heritage to make every soul richer.

COMMITTED ARTS.

By Philip M. Lustre Jr.

LAST Saturday, I attended a forum where two great Filipino artists spoke about their respective arts and a known book author and critic gave a sterling reaction. ‎Jose Santos Ardivilla, a political cartoonist, explained the potency of satire to shake society from its stupor. For his part, Toym Imao, who did public monuments, spoke on how pop art could do its share to change society. Artists could be agents of change, they said.

The two artists had a joint exhibit of their art works, dubbed as “Robots & Beastmodes: Philippine Politics in Contemporary Art,” at the UP Main Library.

The two artists spoke about politics in contemporary arts. They talked about the necessity of commitment to their respective fields. We live under uncertain times, requiring artists to express themselves and use their arts to speak to and for our people. They agreed that arts could be used to express dissent In our society.

Ardivilla expressed his preference to be the “court jester” of this generation because the latter possesses the freedom to say what he says in front of the powers-that-be. The court jester could express his beliefs without offending; he could even ask them to behave the way it would please him. Hence, the court jester could use his art, particularly satire, to express dissent.

For his part, Imao said varying art forms, including pop art, could be apt vehicles to express dissent. Artists should not despair if changes are difficult to come amid the messages they express in their arts. The truth is that artists could use their arts to imprison the plunderers, murderers, corrupt officials, among others in their arts. They are to stay imprisoned for many generations to come.

Katrina Stuart Santiago reacted by saying that the current situation mandates every artist to do his share in society and express himself through his art so that enlightenment could be achieved. Otherwise, the people who sow darkness in our midst would dominate through their narratives. In brief, we should not give them the chance to do their narratives. It should be our narratives that should dominate. She also exhorted the crowd to go out to the streets again to prevent tyranny from overpowering us.

I could not help but react too. I stood up and this is my expanded reaction. I am not that good in speaking publicly because I am more of a writer, or one who is comfortable banging my keyboard than holding a microphone.

I am an old man, a 64-year old who saw political cartooning in different phases of our history. When I had my political awakening as a teenager, I saw Esmeraldo Izon of the Philippines Free Press dominating the scene with his satirical cartoons of our politicians and those who represented the political elite in the premarital law era. Ferdinand Marcos declared martial law on Sept. 21, 1972; it led to the Marcos dictatorship.

Mr. Izon, a close associate of Teodoro Locsin Sr. (the better Locsin in many ways), did his art with ferocity and vigor. His lines were simple, but his messages were clear and powerful; his political cartoons on the pages of the Phil Free Press were masterpieces of clarity. I vividly remember how Mr. Izon had caricatured the politicians of those days into crocodiles in business suits awash with cash and pieces of jewelry pillaged from our people.

It is not easy to do editorial cartooning, particularly those belonging to the political genre. The mark of a great political cartoonist is when he puts in all his messages powerfully on a single frame.

The advent of martial law was another era, where journalists, writers, artists, among others, were cowed by imprisonment and ergo had to put their message quietly in a different way. Journalists practiced their craft by conveying what we called in-between line messages. Even editorial cartoonist did their craft this way.

The late Willy Aguino, who did political cartooning for the crony newspaper Times Journal, now defunct, and later Tempo, did the quiet, subtle ways of expressing dissent through in-between-lines type of journalism. Subtlety was his weapon of mass education.

Willy Aguino’s lines were intricate; all those exaggerations in a typical editorial cartoon were present, but not without those subtle anti-establishment attacks. I saw how Willy, a college contemporary of mine, assailed Marcos and his minions right in their own backyard. Willy killed them by his subtleties. This was a different form of creativity used to convey political messages.

The 1986 EDSA People Revolution led to the ouster of Marcos, the toppling of his dictatorship, and massive changes in the power structure and democratic institutions. The restored democracy has ushered democratic space, leading to the proliferation of many publications, something that was suppressed during the dark days of the Marcos dictatorship.

We saw the emergence of several political cartoonists, who flourished in an environment that promotes freedom of expression. Jong Ardivilla, Net Billones, Norman Isaac, Neil Doloricon, among others have risen to the occasion.

On public art, I admitted I was not that good. As a kid I was deeply awed by the Bonifacio Monument in Caloocan City in an era when traffic was less wicked. When I was a young man, I was enamored with the Oblation in UP. The martial law days saw me marveling at the public arts of the late Eduardo Castrillo too.

But the last two years saw the rise of a situation that complicates what we have before in three eras - premartial law, martial law, and post martial law. Where before it was simpler; the choice has always been good and evil, or an environment of democratic space that guarantees freedom of expression, among other things vis-à-vis a regime of authoritarianism, now we see the rise of post fact era, where alternative facts and alternative truths dominate. It is a situation contrived in an environment of deception and lies.

While it is admittedly my fortune as a 64-yo old man to see the rise and fall of political cartooning in three or four various stages, I also lament that we have been starting to lose what we have gained after the fall of the Marcos dictatorship. Censorship has taken a return for several publications. Even artists and writers are somehow adversely affected by those post-truths. We are falling victims of the rising complicated situation.

I fully agree with the two artists that contemporary arts should not lose its relevance to convey to the people to present the current situation and that artists should use the power within their means to educate our people. Those plunderers, murderers, and corrupt people should be imprisoned by their arts. It’s because I am deeply convinced that artists are the unofficial legislators of the world.

While they may not hold the power of a political office, artists have the power of their art to punish those people ,whose continued presence has been a punishment to our people.

I fully agree with Ms. Santiago’s statement that if ever we have to go back to the streets to regain our people to keep our lost freedom, then we have to do it. My only lament is that as an old man, instead of taking my grandkids in my arms and enjoy whatever democracy can give us, I have to go back to the streets to do what is supposed to do and continue the struggle so that the next generations would not suffer from our own indifference and negligence.

NOTES FROM THE NET; Toym Imao is one of the Philippines’ leading public art artist and is a fellow of the prestigious Fulbright Scholarship Award. He has been commissioned to do public monuments in many cities locally, and abroad. Some of his most notable works are the Tandang Sora National Shrine in Quezon City, the Andres Bonifacio National Shrine in Maragondon, Cavite, and the Dr. Jose Rizal statue in Carson City, California. Parallel to this is his largely self-funded installations which have featured prominently at the University of the Philippines over the past five years, and have made their appearances at the Bantayog ng mga Bayani, the Ayala Museum, the Lopez Museum, the Cultural Center of the Philippines, and other venues. Nationalism, criticality, and memorialization are key features of his pop culture laden, maximalist works.