Psalm 22

Chapter 8

“YOU KNOW,” I started. I only met this woman today. I was told we would both be working on the BTS book. Her name is Anaé. How I love mentioning her name, the way it rolls in my mouth is beautiful. It just sounds exotic to me. 

She has just graduated and is taking all the experiences she could get. I told myself that I would make this memorable for her, or at least something she could look back and tell herself ‘I learnt something and I experienced life in a short amount of time’. And yet another thing to put pressure on myself. 

“You can take your time. Take things slowly,” I said. “We’re going to be here for a long time. You can leave anytime you want, you can go back like you never left. We just have to finish together, and finish strong.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“I’m not entirely sure if there are others coming but I haven’t heard anything from CJ and the producer. They just mentioned that you are coming today and that I should tour you around, give you heads up, spill the deets, whatever, whatever.” 

“Thank you for the warm welcome. What have we got so far?” 

There’s that question that I’m dreading. 

I smiled with uncertainty. “Book-wise, nothing. I have recorded interviews and chitchats with the people working on this project. I haven’t transcribed anything yet.”

“I can do that. Transcribe, I mean,” she volunteered. 

“Sure. I’ve been going around like a designated housefly, asking questions, working my way how they are connected with each other. How they came into the scene, things like that.”

“Any interesting bit so far? How many newcomers are here?” she asked with excitement in her eyes.

I shrugged my shoulders. “A lot, I guess. That’s why I have to get to know each and every one of them.”

“Does it get boring?”

“Oh, no,” I answered quickly. “Not with this beautiful view.”

We looked at the ample land before us. “It doesn’t get any better than this,” I commented.

The wind whistled and made the tree branches dance. From inside the room we could see the endless earth that housed trees, I could only pray they last as long as the Earth stands.

“How do I get myself to relax around them?” she asked shyly. 

“Take your time. You can leave the interview if you feel uncomfortable. Always remember that,” I answered, pressing my lips against each other. I don’t want her to feel that she is not the one manning the interviews.

Anaé nodded. “How do I get them comfortable with me?”

“I don’t,” I said. 

I don’t want them to relax around me. I want them to be nervous or shy or awkward because I could grill them and then after breaking down in sweat, in character, a few laughs here and there, they can chill the fu/ck out and we will start with a fresher interview. It’s so easy to form paragraphs about people who have depth and who’s clearly a person with nothing to hide, not scared to be naked in front of the world. 

“I don’t make them comfortable so I could have material to write. They are the ones who will relax around me. I just find it awesome that every time I do that, I can squeeze something out of them. They are not that hard to be with. We’re lucky to be with these people.”

“That’s an interesting take,” Anaé said and pondered for a few seconds. “I wanna try a different tactic. Befriend them. Not record anything, but write by memory. Of course I should take note of the important details. We will have them read the entire thing for the final approval, right?”

“Of course.”

***

WE STARTED WITH the producer, Henrich. A dark six foot tall man with long hair, goatee and mustache, but a softie at heart. It was Anaé who was doing the interview. I filmed everything this time and was trying to do minutes of the meeting but failed to do so. I just transcribed it and felt bored and when the conversation between the two died down, I gave them something to talk about. 

Today I found out that Henrich was an environmental and sanitary engineer by degree but pursued a different career. He always asks things about fecal coliform when visiting unfamiliar places so he could decide for himself if it’s safe to drink tap water. 

He said he originally wanted to be a veterinarian but he didn’t leave town where not a single university was offering that particular course. He stayed in his hometown for most of his life, dedicated his free time running errands for his family, helping with his mother’s grocery business, being an all-around driver, your go-to cook—his seafood fideuá is bomb, that crispy texture is mouthwatering. 

Instead of chasing after a dream that wasn’t available at the moment, he chose his second option. His father was an engineer and was mainly the reason why he chose to get that degree. His old man was the one who convinced him to take ENSE. There were no regrets, he said. He was happy with the time he dedicated to achieve his father’s dream for him.

Anaé asked him how he got into producing music. 

“CJ was my schoolmate in university and his band would yearly join the school’s event, his department’s event, any opportunity where they could show off their talent. He was so magnetic at that stage. You could see his passion. Any type of music they play, we enjoyed it. His performances were captivating. And every time, he tries to surpass his limits. I want to do that to myself, too. I want to know where I can land this thing. Can I do both? Be an engineer and a producer?”

“At what age did you achieve both?”

“Oh, I don’t really know anymore. I didn’t have to choose. With CJ and his band, I knew I wanted to be a full-time producer. Some part in me wished I did more for myself. I don’t regret this path. But deep down I could sense if I had just pushed myself harder, if I worked harder, maybe by this time I knew the feeling of accomplishing both. I don’t dwell on that anymore. 

“There are more pressing matters. That’s where our focus should be. We do not want our voices to be unheard. We have power, hence we should use it. This is how we want people to take part in this war, a war waged against the government. Personally I don’t want to be on the streets. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be seen and heard. We want to encourage people to use all resources to propagate the facts that are happening in the country.”

“How does music and politics go hand-in-hand?”

“They’re quick to judge, quick to ignore us. But then they hear this great music from somewhere and by the time they look it up on the Internet, they will say, ‘why haven't I heard of this band?’. s**t like that. We’re always here, you know. Been here since two thousand and eight. We try to make the visuals great, the music captivating and out of this world, so that when they hear about us, they will know which issues to focus on.”

“Is anyone funding this?” 

He laughed. “For sure. For real, for real.”

“Really?” Anaé asked, as if in shock.

“Of course. We’re musicians. We’re still in the bizz. They like this s**t. They like the sound of ‘let’s burn this to the ground’ type of buzz.” 

We laughed. If that ain’t the truth. 

“You know,” Henrich said. “People will come at you. You’re treading on dangerous ground. You should be careful. Pick your fight. And know that whatever happens, justice and truth will prevail and there is no wrong with fighting for the oppressed, poor, slandered, as long as we’re doing it right and as long as everybody in this ranch is safe. If we make it here safe and alive, take our message into the world, only then can we help the people outside this safe space.”

I wore my smile downward. I wonder when that will be. I hope doing the good deed won’t get us buried.