Ms. N, the Lady Who Hated to Sing
- Published on Tuesday, 10 January 2012 04:36
- Category: Opinions
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AS THE BAMBOOS SWAY by Rudy D. Liporada |
SAN DIEGO, 1/21/2011 -- “You know, when I was on stage before, they tell me I am pretty. They do not say I am a good singer,” the lady in her early 70’s said. She had a one man keyboard with percussions, a saxophonist and a lead guitar backup. She and her band set the party I was invited to in a frenzy of cha-cha, boogie, tango, and modern swing rock and roll.
“But you are a good singer,” I said. What I mean was her voice projection appeared like she was a post war success in the singing industry in the Philippines during her time. The lines on her forehead and the slight quiver on her lips also failed to hide a mestiza face that could have also launched a thousand ships. For her voice, she could have been a Joey Albert or a Yolly dela Torre (Kahapon, Ngayon, at Bukas) whose successes in the Islands were cut short when they migrated abroad. And, boy! Could this lady sing!
“I only started to love singing when I came to the United States,” she said.
“Somehow I find that rather hard to believe. It appears to me that you had loved singing since you were born.”
She smiled. Then her face contorted to squeeze tears to flow. She wiped them and sniffed. “You are very nice,” she said. “I do not know why I feel like I can tell you this but, really, I used to hate singing. I was forced into it.”
In between sobs, she continued.
“During my teens, I was forced to be the breadwinner for the family. My father was tortured by the Japanese and was unable to work. My mother was a plain housewife. Everyone in the family said I could sing. A manager of a club in Dewey Boulevard said I was pretty. So, there I was.”
“So, what’s wrong with that? That is very noble of you, isn’t it?”
“But I had no passion for it. I did not have the confidence and on the stage, I was actually nervous and could not emote properly the songs I was singing.”
“That is not what I hear now,” I said.
There was a brief silence punctuated by another tear flow and sniffs.
“I did not have the confidence because I was abused as a child.”
I squinted in disbelief.
“Oh! No. Not that kind of being abused although I was close to being raped several times.”
“You know you better elaborate so you clear my mind on what you really mean by abused,” I said.
“For the most part, my mother never praised me for anything. To her, I never did anything right. Even when I was already earning for the whole family, I was never good for anything in her eyes. For everything I did, I felt hollow inside. I was empty.
“And just to show you how my parents did not care for me, tell me if this is a right thing for parents to do. See, my father who was a principal joined the guerillas when the Japanese came. I was six at that time. I remember so that he could smuggle his pistol across Japanese sentries, he would stitch it inside a pillow for me to cuddle. When, eventually, he got caught, my mother made me bring buried notes in pots of rice. Would parents who care for their children endanger their lives? While there were nice Japanese officers who actually pat my head saying I was cute, I was actually deathly nervous when my parents let me do those things. I was a kid and I was already a nervous wreck.”
“But most actors I know have had negative experiences from which they draw their emotions when they act,” I said. “Could it be that that is why you could sing with all your projected feelings now?”
“Maybe, but that is not how it was when I was singing in the Philippines. Besides, as I’ve said, they, specially the men were more concerned with my looks than my singing.”
“How so?”
“You know, there would be these icons in Manila who would almost always ask me on dates. They would parade their cars in front of the club and ask me to select which car I would like. Others offered me houses, even in Forbes Park.”
“I guess I can’t blame them.”
“But I was conservative. Not only that. As I’ve said, even if I was pretty, I felt ugly inside because my hurts and insults I received made me feel so. I felt like those men were only after what they could get from me as a woman and not because of myself.
“You know that even during my breaks from singing, I would just stay in the corner, not even going to the restroom, holding my pee, being afraid that I might be raped in the restroom.”
“So, what made you like singing now?”
“Eventually I sang in Olongapo, met and, though I was still very young, married this Filipino navy guy. He brought me here in the United States. Free from the pressures of my family, I felt like I was liberated. Not knowing initially what to do, I went back to singing and really found out for myself that I really had the talent. Slowly, I gained confidence and started to enjoy it.”
Today, Ms. N, like most Filipinos who immigrate into the United States has a comfortable life in San Diego. She has acumens like houses, business establishments, and cars. She is very active in several civic organizations and contributes in any way she could. And she had put a band to sustain what to her now is just a hobby. Oldies and Filipinos songs – she belts them all and with gusto.
Looking back at what she had been through, she concludes that even if one has talents, one cannot be coerced to exercise them. Passion drives the talents through. Nonetheless, she also agrees that if one is bestowed with talents, one must use them. Otherwise, the Lord will take them away.
In a little while, Ms. N excused herself from our brief talk. “Our break time is up. We have to go back on stage again.”
As soon as she belted out “I’m so young and you’re so old, please Diana I’ve been told…,” the floor rocked, immediately filled with swinging partners to the boogie beat.
I was once again mesmerized by her singing until a lady pulled me to the dance floor and I found myself gyrating, swaying, with my feet stumping with the beat – my whole being enveloped by the voice of the Lady who used to hate to sing.