The Spirit of Writing, The Spirit of Independence
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Is there really a spirit of writing here, in Dumaguete, the sea-facing capital of the province of Negros Oriental, in the Philippines? My guide, fiction writer and heritage activist Ian Rosales Casocot, thinks so. He teaches creative writing at the oldest writing workshop in the country. He has seen many writers, new and established, discover that spirit in their time here. Yesterday I broke my dry spell in Asia and revised a poem that I had shelved.
Silliman University, where Ian teaches, is the oldest private American university in Asia. It is a living part of the country's colonial history. As Ian wrote in his blog, when the victorious Americans took over from the Spanish, they imposed English on the country to transmit their values. Ian remembers having to speak English only in grade school. To enforce the rule, the students were made to play a "game" called Badge. Whoever forgot himself and spoke Bisayan had to wear the badge, which could actually be a necklace or bracelet. The student could only give away the badge when he found someone else speaking the forbidden tongue. The last person wearing the badge at the end of the day was fined one peso, a princely sum back then. The game turned all the students into spies on one another. It was ingenious.
The influence of Silliman radiates everywhere in this city. Dumaguete has been voted one of the best places to retire for Western expatriates. The dollar and the euro go a long way here. American-style bars and restaurants flourish and provide nourishment to many mixed couples, mainly older white men and younger Filipinas. Any push-back against neo-colonialism is gentle, accommodating. Ed, the chef of Adamo, where Ian took me for dinner, had been trained in Los Angeles and had returned to Dumaguete to set up his own modern Bisayan restaurant. He and Ian agreed that the new Starbucks that is going up will not last. Dumagueteans do not like American chains muscling in. The chain stores here are all Filipino.
The promenade by the sea is named after José Rizal, the Filipino nationalist, whose writings inspired the Philippine Revolution against the Spanish. Walking by the low parapet, now discolored and chipped, I am reminded of the old Queen Elizabeth's Walk in Singapore, where my late father would bring us children for an evening stroll, a cheap form of entertainment. The steady sea breeze—both memory and reality here—seems to unlock a door in me as I write in my best Queen's English for this column. The spirit of writing turns out not to be an unmixed blessing.
Happy 4th of July to my American friends! As you celebrate your independence, may you give a thought to the independence, and happiness, of others. I leave you with the words of your great composer John Cage, who wishes for the USA "to become just another part of the world, no more, no less."
Jee Leong Koh
July 4, 2019
Is there really a spirit of writing here, in Dumaguete, the sea-facing capital of the province of Negros Oriental, in the Philippines? My guide, fiction writer and heritage activist Ian Rosales Casocot, thinks so. He teaches creative writing at the oldest writing workshop in the country. He has seen many writers, new and established, discover that spirit in their time here. Yesterday I broke my dry spell in Asia and revised a poem that I had shelved.
Silliman University, where Ian teaches, is the oldest private American university in Asia. It is a living part of the country's colonial history. As Ian wrote in his blog, when the victorious Americans took over from the Spanish, they imposed English on the country to transmit their values. Ian remembers having to speak English only in grade school. To enforce the rule, the students were made to play a "game" called Badge. Whoever forgot himself and spoke Bisayan had to wear the badge, which could actually be a necklace or bracelet. The student could only give away the badge when he found someone else speaking the forbidden tongue. The last person wearing the badge at the end of the day was fined one peso, a princely sum back then. The game turned all the students into spies on one another. It was ingenious.
The influence of Silliman radiates everywhere in this city. Dumaguete has been voted one of the best places to retire for Western expatriates. The dollar and the euro go a long way here. American-style bars and restaurants flourish and provide nourishment to many mixed couples, mainly older white men and younger Filipinas. Any push-back against neo-colonialism is gentle, accommodating. Ed, the chef of Adamo, where Ian took me for dinner, had been trained in Los Angeles and had returned to Dumaguete to set up his own modern Bisayan restaurant. He and Ian agreed that the new Starbucks that is going up will not last. Dumagueteans do not like American chains muscling in. The chain stores here are all Filipino.
The promenade by the sea is named after José Rizal, the Filipino nationalist, whose writings inspired the Philippine Revolution against the Spanish. Walking by the low parapet, now discolored and chipped, I am reminded of the old Queen Elizabeth's Walk in Singapore, where my late father would bring us children for an evening stroll, a cheap form of entertainment. The steady sea breeze—both memory and reality here—seems to unlock a door in me as I write in my best Queen's English for this column. The spirit of writing turns out not to be an unmixed blessing.
Happy 4th of July to my American friends! As you celebrate your independence, may you give a thought to the independence, and happiness, of others. I leave you with the words of your great composer John Cage, who wishes for the USA "to become just another part of the world, no more, no less."
Jee Leong Koh
July 4, 2019
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