Ricky is a Filipino laborer who works in Korea to support his family in Manila. In his dream, he sees apparitions of his grandmother telling him to return to Manila in order to succeed his family vocation as a witch doctor. From the next day on, strange things happen to him as he wanders around and follows the voice that haunts him.
The Calling: Pilikula nen Christopher Gozum:
The Calling was directed by Christopher Gozum (produced by the Asian Film Academy in 2006 and premiered at the 13th Pusan International Film Festival). The Calling won Best Short Film in the 9th Cinemanila International Film Festival in 2007.
Christopher Quijalvo Gozum was a Master of Arts in Theater Arts student in the University of the Philippines. He was an alumni of the 2006 Asian Film Academy Fellowship Program in Pusan, South Korea.
Christopher won two Palanca Awards for Literature for his two full-length drama War Booty (2001) and The Pasyon of Pedro Calosa and the Tayug Colorum Uprising of 1931 (2002). His second Palanca-winning play with a revised title of Pure Stone Is the Source of Light was awarded a publication prize/grant by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts’ Ubod Young Author’s Series in 2005.
Christopher’s filmography includes The Independence Mission (2004 Gawad CCP para sa Alternatibong Pelikula at Video), Lakaran ( featured in the 2006 Cinemalaya Independent Film Festival ) and Surreal Random Mms Texts Para Ed Ina, Agui, Tan Kaamong Ya Makaiiliw Ed Sika: Gurgurlis Ed Banua.
Christopher is from Bayambang, Pangasinan in the Philippines.
International Premiere ed 10th Jeonju International Film Festival (South Korea) "Stranger than Cinema" section Abril 30, 2009 angga ed Mayo 08, 2009
Surreal Random Mms Texts Para Ed Ina, Agui, Tan Kaamong Ya Makaiiliw Ed Sika: Gurgurlis Ed Banua
Surreal Random MMS Texts for a mother, a sister and a wife who longs for you: Landscape with figures
SECTIONStranger than Cinema
DIRECTORChristopher Gozum
FILM-INFOPhilippines | 2008 | 15min | DV | Color |
SUBTITLEEnglish
Synopsis
Using a Pangasinan-language translation of Filipino-American writer-activist Carlos Bulosan’s 1942 poem “Landscape with Figures”as a narration, a young expatriate Filipino filmmaker working in the Middle East sends surreal, random and found digital images of displacement and longing to his loved ones in the Pangasinan region of the Northern Philippines.
Profile
Chris is a M.A. Theater Arts student in the University of the Philippines.
Chris won the Ishmael Bernal Award for Young Cinema during the 10th Cinemanila International Film Festival (2008) for his short experimental film SURREAL RANDOM MMS TEXTS PARA ED INA, AGUI, TAN KAAMONG YA MAKAIILIW ED SIKA : GURGURLIS ED BANUA. Recently, he finished filming his first full length feature film called “The Storyteller” and is currently on the post-production stage.
Ipapakabat ko pa ed saray kabiangan na Ulupan na Pansiansia'y Salitan Pangasinan (UPSP) ya wala'y miting no Mayo 16, 2009 ed United Way, Lingayen ed alas-9 na kabuasan.
Sometimes happiness is as simple as being able to buy a handful of baég (about 50 grams at Php10) to put in a pot of pakbet (pinakbet), or mix in a stew of balatóng (munggo, mung beans) sauteed with chopped, ripe tomatoes. It becomes a joy, really, because the tree, or more appropriately the woody, high-growing shrub, bears only seasonally these light-green, textured, long spindly flowers that turn into a vegetable for us Northerners (Ilocanos and Pangasinenses).
The shrub does not benefit from any blossom-inducing chemical spray since it is not much known outside of the Ilocos region, although I've heard it proliferates even in the Batangas area, where they eat it as a vegetable, too. But it is well that it is kept organic, since I'm well aware how access to fresh, unadulterated produce can be a pricey privilege in this time and place.
Baég is endemic to the Philippines, also known as alokon or himbabao in Ilocano. It is rich in vitamins A, B and C, and contains calcium, phosphorus, potassium and iron. It is mixed in the Ilocano dish inabrao, or a vegetable stew of tomatoes, sitaw (string beans) and patani (fresh lima beans), flavored by pieces of grilled pork. In Pangasinan it is called baég, with the requisite Pangasinan guttural ę that all Filipinos outside of the province find so hard to pronounce (it is like the e in brother, or the second e in eagle – easy, right?).
Baég makes any dish more aromatic, but only subtly so. It adds texture, and additional roughage, to any vegetable dish that is sinágsagán (having as base stock seasoned with the salted, fermented fish paste bagóong). When cooked it turns vibrant green, soft and a bit slick. It can be had by itself, sauteed with shrimps, or in some places with bisukol or kuhol, snails, cooked in gata or coconut cream (definitely not in the Ilocos region).
In Pangasinan it is most commonly cooked with pakbet, a mix of okra, eggplants, tomatoes, palya (ampalaya, bitter gourd/melon), all put together in a boiling pot of sinágsagán and agát (luya, ginger). The pakbet shown here (photo above) also contains cubes of kamote (sweet potato), also a common practice and to which I have some objections, but I allow it because of the kamote's beneficial contents (vitamin A, calcium, soluble fiber and resistant starch), especially for kids.
It is now the season for baég. My cup runneth over.
In Pangasinan we have no name for this vegetable dish, as with other vegetable pairings, like salúyot tan labóng, or kalobása tan marúnggay.
What I call it here, as with the other examples, is by the names of the two vegetable ingredients, apáyas being the Pangasinan term for papaya, while agáyep is sitaw, which is called string beans in English, but the name string beans in the US actually pertains to another pod much shorter than our sitaw.
As a digression, let me add that sitaw is called batong in the Visayan language (Cebuano). Batong sounds related to balatóng, which is the Pangasinan term for the lowly but noble munggô or mung beans.
While they're two different bean varieties, balatóng is actually harvested from pods which look like batong or sitaw. And then, sometimes we open up mature agáyep (batong) pods to get the beans when the pods are already inedible, cooking them like a balatóng. Of course the agáyep beans are softer.
I prefer the shorter sitaw, which is less than a foot long, greener, and has thinner skin than the more common and longer sitaw. There is less insulating white pulp covering the beans, so the pods are firmer and look "skin-tight." This sitaw variety has more flavor, and there are times in the year when they are sold in the morning market mostly shelled – like soft mung beans with a few unshelled pods here and there.
Anyway, in Pangasinan when we ask the cook to prepare vegetable dishes, we just say what vegetables to include. It is actually automatic because it has been established how one complements and enhances the other.
And all native vegetables are cooked the same – in the method called sinágsagán. So if I am asked what I have cooked, I will simply say the names of the vegetables I put in the pot.
Of course not all vegetable dishes don't have names in Pangasinan. Like we have pakbet, or pakbet tan kalobása (with squash, which is the Ilocano bulanglang)…..and….., I can't think of anything else. So mostly they are identified by what they contain, the vegetables just enumerated.
Probably this is the case because the dishes are so simple and so homey, that they did not merit being named. Almost all vegetable dishes in the province I have never encountered elsewhere, but it existent in the Ilocos and Batangas provinces, with whom we share the sinágsagán method of cooking vegetables.
I actually stop in surprise sometimes – because whenever I am away from the province, I so miss and crave for these specific vegetable dishes. The salty smell of bagóong boiling away merrily, and then that of the green notes of the fresh vegetables – they evoke the comfort of home and homecooking.
Looking back at the child who cried in anguish because she actually had to eat the vegetables served frequently (daily, without fail), I never foresaw I would come to this day. That I would actually crave what I used to hate. And even to the extent that it could take on the identity of comfort food.
Agáyep tan apáyas, or vice versa – let's call them AA for short, smells of sinágsagán coupled with the unrealized sweetness of the thinly sliced unripe papaya, punctuated by the deep greenness of the sitaw, which is broken (by hand) into several (about three to four) pieces, removing the string on each side.
This is the basic pairing, and can be served on its own. A piece – preferably the head – of grilled bangus, the favored flavor enhancer of provincial vegetable dishes, ups the allure of the dish, elevating it to almost gourmet status (of course I'm exaggerating, but it's not really far from the truth).
For variety, other vegetables can be added. Here we have bungá'y cabuéy, the fruit of that climbing vine which is considered a weed – called sigarillas in Tagalog (sigadillas, seguidillas, winged bean, Goa bean, asparagus bean).
In the first photo, the dish contained kamansī (kamongsi, breadfruit, Antocarpus camansi blanco), which is prized for its breast milk inducing capability.
Kamansī is another vegetable I crave for when I'm out of Pangasinan, but this post is already too long, so I will leave that for another time.
Note: From the comments made on this post, may I add that this dish actually has a name in other places – dinengdeng or inabraw in the Ilocos and kibal in Batangas. Which got me into thinking that I should try finding out if there is a forgotten name in Pangasinan.
I have seen and eaten labong cooked in various ways across the country, in Chinese restaurants and in a fresh salad recipe using canned bamboo shoots. But this is the most common, and probably the most popular – and easiest – way to eat labong in Pangasinan. Boiled with saluyot tops (young jute leaves) and sinagsagan with inasin (bagoong isda). It is probably the healthiest among all options, because it doesn't contain any saturated/trans-fat, whether of the proven or debated kind, and the dish' nutritive value is magnified by the addition of the miracle, organic vegetable saluyot.
To cook, just bring to a boil a pan of water with several slices of peeled ginger. Never, ever julienne the ginger root, as my yaya is wont to do, because it would easily be mistaken for labong, especially when using the pre-boiled one. A thumb-sized ginger, peeled and crushed with the back of an aklo (sandok, wooden rice ladle) will do. Once the water is merrily boiling, put in a small bowl a couple spoonfuls of inasin. Get a long-handled ladle and pour a ladle-full of boiling water into the inasin bowl. Using the ladle edge, crush the fish in the inasin with downward strokes. Pour into the pan, straining the inasin. Repeat until the fishbones have been finely crushed. Add the labong and let boil for a few minutes, then add the saluyot and cook for about 10 minutes, covered, on medium heat.
The inasin reacts somehow with the labong, and the resulting dish acquires a very distinctive flavor, an acquired taste for some, especially for those who did not grow up eating this combination. A Pangasinense cook who maintains an eatery in Pampanga has successfully gone around this probable hindrance to the enjoyment of the dish by doing away with the inasin. He just sautees the saluyot at labong with a little pork and some tiny shrimps, recreating it into something more tolerable for non-kabaleyans. It tasted ok to my Pangasinense tastebuds, too, and it has become an alternative option whenever we run out of Pangasinan bagoong in Cavite.
When I got married, I started eating labong tan saluyot soured with pias (kamias/kalamias, Averrhoa bilimbi), which is how the vegetable dish is cooked in my husband's house. It's cooked the same as the foregoing, but pias is added the same time as the ginger. It tastes not much different from the regular saluyot tan labong, but the sourness of the pias somehow foils the saltiness of the inasin, which is heightened because not much green vegetable absorbs it. It actually completes the dish, the flavors all rounded up, although of course I never noticed anything lacking before.
I have come to love the taste of pias in my saluyot tan labong that I want a bowlfull of them added to the dish. Good thing there are two pias trees at my in-laws' backyard, and it is commonly available in the public markets, too. As long as labong is available (peak season is during the rainy months, but it can be procured the rest of the year, albeit rarely) saluyot tan labong, with pias, is cooked and eaten weekly at home. It serves to ground my children to their Pangasinan roots, as well as providing us complete nutrition for the day, with added anti-oxidants, to boot.
Saluyot tan labong is best eaten with inkalot a bangos, and acquires a heavenly turn when the fatty head of that grilled milkfish is added towards the end of the cooking process as sahog.
In fact, saluyot tan labong flavored with grilled bangus head is simply divine that I think it is worth serving in a royal court. And since it is a purely Pangasinan dish, if ever, in my other life, I had been the aliping namamahay in the court of the famed Pangasinense, Princess Urduja, I would have wanted to cook this for her. To fortify her during the battles defending the kingdom, and to keep her skin smooth and preserve her beauty to ensure that it attains legendary status. It would also serve as a reminder as to how hardy yet adaptable we are as a people, like the labong, when it grows into bamboo, which sways with the wind that's why it doesn't break, even with the strongest Filipino bagyo (typhoon/tropical storm).
Of course I won't dare admit I would have wanted to be Princess Urduja herself in my other life, but I can imagine. And I imagine I would want to eat saluyot tan labong, everyday. With pias.
April 15, 2009 marked the formal opening of the Dagupan City Bangus Festival 2009. One of the kick-off events scheduled was the Gilon! Gilon! Ed Baley Street Dancing Competition. The contest was open to the local groups particularly the 28 barangays and some schools of Dagupan City.
Gilon Gilon is the street dance extravaganza that depicts and interprets the “Gilon” or harvesting Bangus through vivid visual display, graceful gyrations and well-choreographed dance in groups.
Gilon in the Pangasinan vernacular means the traditional way of harvesting bangus (milkfish) at the fishponds particularly here in Dagupan City.
Barangay Lucao was adjudged the winner in the said event. They received P80,000 as cash prize. Barangay Mangin, last year's champion settled for second place (P60,000). The third, fourth and fifth place winners were Barangay Bolosan (P50,000), Dagupan City National High School (P40,000), and Barangay Tambac (40,000) respectively. Other partcipants were given P3,000 as consolation prize.
The distinguished panel of judges were: Peter De Vera and Franco Velas of the National Commission for Culture and the Arts; Hilly Vann dela Cruz of Sinukwan Performing Arts; Rebecca Lim-Nulud and Sheila Marie Marquez of Saint Louis University; Romarico Sunga of Angeles City National Trade School and Alfredo Niner of Juan G. Macaraeg National High School in Binalonan.
Here are glimpses of the event (video courtesy of PJay Gutierrez):
Barangay Lucao being this year’s champion will again showcase their winning form in the Festivals of the North street-dancing competition on April 27, 2009. The Festivals of the North street-dancing competition which is touted as the “Biggest Gathering of the Best Festivals of the Northern Philippines” will feature popular festivals in the region, to include those in Pampanga, Ilocos Norte, and Isabela.
Thirty five localities (festivals) will be competing in the two categories (city and town). The champions will each receive P200,000 cash prize.
Guest performers are the Iloilo City's Dinagyang Festival and Mapandan's (Pangasinan) Tribu Pandan who won in last year's Festivals of the North and was champion in Baguio City's Panagbenga 2009.
[Ginataang halo-halo/rice balls, bananas and various rootcrops in coconut cream]
Happy Easter!
With the end of Lent we're on to a summer that's going full blast. It's along the lines of everything's two-sided - the sultry heat that can sweat you out dry, but with it comes the vibrant colors that only a red-hot sun can bring. An abundance of all things edible, in all colors that Crayola can think of, prettying up lush fields and gardens.
Rootcrops are available year-round, but they're in profusion, and at rock-bottom prices, at this time. Langka has just gone into season, and it is the ultimate ingredient to a comfort food from my childhood, the memory made and nurtured in my paternal grandparents' house.
My lolo and lola, although not born to rich families, were able to acquire tracts of land by sheer prudence and good management of their finances. From these properties we enjoyed the fruits of their labors – rice and crops planted by tenants, the produceoffruittreesplantedby my dad, and his papa, when he was but a child.
During summer, stocks of produce arrive at the house, and it was there where I came to know about what the land can give, and how it is made into food, the knowhow from an oral tradition passed down from generation to generation.
Easter was celebrated with these crops, and I remember seeking solace from the afternoon heat in the dark dining room, where I would come upon my dad's cousins rolling rice flour dough on the table for that day's treat. I would join in on the fun (fun at the start, becoming tedious later on), pinching inch-long pieces from the dough rolls and rolling them between my palms to form balls, smearing my hands with sticky dough.
That experience, and the memory of it, has become priceless, now that my grandparents have passed away, the house is being let, the cousins have their own families to tend to, and there's nobody to watch over the properties that the tenants have stopped giving our share of the crops.
But I recreate home, now that I have my own, in a place where my children are sometimes laughed at because they mix their languages – because I insist that we use my and my husband's mother language even when we're in Tagalog country. I once had my then two-year old son point to a favorite ingredient of kiniler, saying "I want banana-saging-ponti," all in one breath.
They find forming balls out of sticky dough quite fun, too.
Kiniler, the Pangasinan term for what is commonly known as ginataang bilo-bilo or ginataang halo-halo, can be as simple as rice balls and diced seba (saba) cooked in coconut cream thickened by ground glutinous rice. But it can be as lavish – a cornucopia of all things the land can yield – as a stew of all these things: kamote in three colors – white, yellow and purple - saba, langka, even buko and mais, anise.
I like my kiniler multi-textural – soft and sticky (bilo-bilo), crunchy (langka and ube), chewy (sago and saba), mushy (kamote). And full of varied flavors – the rootcrops and fruits transcending from one level of sweetness to another, the buko providing a refreshing respite, thebilo-bilo and sago a foil for all the variety of tastes, the anise punctuating with bursts of spice and aroma. All rounded up by the creamy goodness of gata.
A fitting celebration of life, the after-life, and hopes for a better one in the next.
