(Editors’ Note: Republished with permission. This book review first appeared in The IndependentBicolMag.ph via medium.com)

Book Review by Christian Oliver

“Dai harayo, na pwede man nanggad, na istorya mo man ini.”

Bikol literature has been a reflection of the vibrant culture and beliefs of Bicolanos; a day-to-day experience stitched into a creative piece with the aim to reach the readers with thought-provoking ideas and knowledge; or just an author’s imagination fueled by motivation and turned into words hoping to make a difference.

But for Jerome Hipolito’s Dyurnal Intris, a co-winning entry for the first Premyo Valledor for Bikol novel, literature is born out of blank pages and turns into a world that resembles the writer’s perspectives, wisdom, and observation.

“Garo man sana an, paghapot sa sarong panadero kun nata sya nagsusunad nin tinapay sa oven o tano nagda-drayb an sarong drayber. (It’s like asking a baker why he bakes bread in an oven or why a driver drives,)” he answered when asked what made him write his winning entry.

Hipolito’s book is a compilation of his daily journal entries, showcasing the journey of the characters that populate its pages: “Pighanapan ko sana nin lawas an man-iriba-ibang naratibo, na garo baga sarong dyos na hali sa tataramon, na nagin tawo. (I just searched for a body that would fit the different narratives, akin to a god emerging from words and becoming a human being.)”

The book gives him the opportunity to put other people’s stories into words, where he tells their narratives, stories, and lives.

“Bilang tawo, nagin mas mapag-intindi ako sa mga inaagihan kan tawo, mas nirerespito ko an saindang sitwasyon,” (As a person, I developed a greater sense of empathy towards people’s experiences, and I now hold a deeper respect for their situation,)” he acknowledged.

The Dyurnal Intris tells the story of a young writer who just wanted to write, or for some, the story of an ordinary person. “Isturya ko ini, pero isturya man ini kan mga tawo na nakahampang ko, saka dai harayo, na pwede man nanggad, na isturya mo man ini. (This is my story, but this is also the story of every person I encountered. Moreover, it closely resonates with, and quite possibly mirrors, your own story,)” he said.

Jerome Hipolito is a prominent Bikolano poet and educator from Calabanga, Camarines Sur. His remarkable achievements: in 2008, he bagged second place in the poetry category of the Premio Tomas Arejola para sa Literaturang Bikolnon.

Furthermore, in 2019, he is the co-winner, together with Niles Jordan Breis’ Kalatraban sa Alkawaran, of the first Premyo Valledor, a novel prize for Bicolano writers with original novels written in Bikol, established by a Catanduanes native, Victorio C. Valledor, together with Ateneo de Naga University Press and the National Book Development Board.

Recent Journal Entries by Jerome Hipolito

(Editors’ Note: In preparing for this article, we asked Jerome to tell us more about himself and his works. We got more than an abbreviated bio-note. Happily, this is what he sent us.)

Noong grade school, tuwing unang Biyernes ng buwan, walang sawa kaming dinadala ng aming titser sa kapilya sa loob ng katedral kung saan nakalagak ang Tabernakulo. Sa pagitan ng mga ritwal at panalangin ng klase, sa mga ibinigay na espasyo sa amin para sa pagninilay ko unang nakausap ang Dyos na parang nakikipagusap lang sa isang matalik na kaibigan. Iyong tuloy-tuloy na usapan pero hindi garapal, ‘yong usapang hindi kailangan magkailangan, ‘yong usapang walang ini-edit, kwentuhan lang, kung ano-ano lang. Hindi kailangan mag impress, hindi kailangan maging kritikal. Madalas kong ikinikwento sa kanya ang kahon ng Ginebrang hiningi ko sa tindahan ni Mama na itinago ko sa loob ng kabinet at kung paano ko ito pinupuno ng mga laruan tulad ng napanalunang holen, text, NBA cards, pogs, lastiko, at match boxes na may iba’t ibang klase ng gagamba, mga risibo, at mga extrang pektur ng one-by-one, one-and-a-half by one-and-a-half at two-by-two at mga naipong barya. Kinahiligan ko ang pagkokokekta ng kung ano anong maliliit na bagay. At iyong ang tanging pagmamay-ari ko noon at ipinagmamalaki ko ito kay Amang Dyos. Kaya lagi ko ito isinusugal sa kanya, magpakita lang Siya sa akin. Sabi ko kay Amang Dyos kaya kong ibigay lahat ng nasa loob ng kahon sa Kanya, basta’t, literal siyang magpakita sa akin. Iwan ko ba kung bakit ko gustong makita ang mukha ng Dyos noon. Iyong ang tanging gusto ko, na makita Siya nang harapan. Pero hindi ito nangyari kahit kailan.

Siguro lagi akong may duda, laging in doubt sa Dyos noon, parang si Tomas, kaya to see is to believe ang peg ko. Sa huli, hindi nakipagkita ang Dyos. Walang Dyos na humarap o nagpakita sa akin. Para siyang isang kalaro na ang galing galing mang-asar. Hindi ko na rin makita ang kahon ng Ginebra, sa sobra atang galing ko sa pagtatago nito, kaya kahit ako, hindi ko na makita kung saan ito nakatago ngayon. Pero hindi iyon ang una kong pakikipag-usap sa Kanya. Si Papa at Mama ang nagturo sa akin manalangin. Ang Angel of God in Bikol ang una kong natutunan, shortcut nga lang. Pinamemorya sa akin nina Mama sa paniniwalang magdadala ito ng swerte at mailalayo ako ng anghel na katambay sa anumang sakuna na paparating. Kaya kahit saan, kahit kailan, lagi akong handa na iusal ito: Anghel kong katambay, igdi ka sa pamayuhan ko, pag may magdulok nin demonyo, isikwal mo sa impyerno, Amen. Mapalad ako na ipinanganak ako sa isang business-oriented family na closed-Catholic na priority ang edukasyon, kaya ako nakapag-aral sa Catholic schools, kaya naging sakristan ako sa elementary at high school at naging member ng music ministry sa college.

Hindi ko man Siya nakita ng personal ng harapan, nararamdaman ko naman si Amang Dyos sa pakikipagsalamuha ko sa iba’t ibang tao. Ito siguro ang natutunan ko sa mga Heswita sa high school at college. Malinaw sa memorya ko ang “seeing God in all things.” Laging nariyan ang Diyos, at maaari Siyang makita kahit sa pinakasimpleng mga tao o bagay o pangyayari sa buhay ko. Totoo ngang hinaharap tayo ng Dyos sa paraang tayo lamang ang nakauunawa. I will never see God literally in my lifespan. But without my knowledge, he has been working in myself silently and maybe, just maybe poetically.

Tulad ng nasabi na, I was raised by business-oriented parents. As a toddler, my father would bring me to a bayside business hub called Puro in Baranggay Sabang, Calabanga, where fishermen sold their catch through “Pabulungan” (whispered bids). Papa wanted me to be exposed to the sea breeze at daybreak, which is believed to stimulate a child’s immune system. Unknown to Papa, I would observe the crowd abuzz with their respective tasks, to the baroto transporting alternately to and fro the port, the catch and the catchers, and the odd smell of saline water mixed with oil spills as waves gently kiss the seawall below them. The picture-perfect outline of trawls anchored a few miles away from the shore propped against a background of gray splashed on with crimson rays by the first light of dawn. Moreover, the sight of men and women doing their chores in harvesting palay on fields owned by Lola fascinates me. Every time Mama would tag me along to oversee the harvest, the rustic scene in Sitio Bugitis in Paolbo, Calabanga excites me. There I would watch as the farmers thresh the palay and clean them through “Papalid” where the wind would separate the chaffs from the grains before bagging and stacking the farm produce. These scenes would sometimes pop into my mind when I am to partake of a rice-and-fish meal, thinking about the toils those people had to endure to feed the nation.

The Hipolitos are fisher folks who, along with other families, were uprooted from Balanga, Bataan, by the hard times brought about by WWII and settled in Kalye Pitong Gatang in Barangay Sabang, Calabanga – a fishing village. There, they were called the Balanga’s due to their distinct Tagalog intonations. The Mendozas, on the other hand, are landed rice traders and millers. They are natives of Calabanga. My socio-cultural awareness was molded by the fusion of Tagalog and Bikol cultures, and my endearment to my Lolas aroused my innate tendency to become a writer. My paternal grandma, Inang who uses “tungkos” (knotted corner of a hankie that holds coins and bills) for a wallet, is a natural conversationalist. Her “samalamig” is a real treat to visitors flocking the village to witness the parade of bloodied flagellants during Holy Week; or to gawkers during “sakay” (sea procession) in celebration of the Feast Day of San Juan Bautista, the patron saint. My maternal grandmother, Lola Ale, on the other hand, is a doting mom and granny, a regular church-goer and a fluent Bikol speaker. It is from her that I learned to love the Bikol language.

When reading poetry, images from the poem appear in my imagination. They remain in my psyche. Perhaps, this is one reason why I choose to write poetry in Bikol even in this age when people have no time for reading and writing. But imagination took a long way before I finally took hold of the pen and began scribbling my initial poems in Bikol. I gradually learned to love my first language while passing time listening to anecdotes, the latest rumors, and what-have-yous told by passengers or the drivers in booming voices or hushed whispers during trips to and from school and home aboard crammed jeepneys where even tinkering with techie gizmos is toiling. In those moments, I learned to set my imagination to work. I had to wonder and wander in thought. The jeepney at that time, and even at present, was a microcosm of Bikol society. I drew inspiration from those experiences when I wrote my earlier poems. A series of poems in my first book of poetry, Ode sa Tadik were set inside a jeepney. My first experience with myself and the world happened inside the typical jeepney.

As a beginning novelist, my work was highly influenced by how I experience reality. I would navigate my dealings with friends and enemies, too, and turn them into lovable characters for my novel. It was hard to finish the novel because I was used to writing poetry and because of the limitation of the form, which is narrated as journal entries. But the novelist in me wanted to write a second book; this time, I will try to make it more culturally significant for Bikolnons.

I witness the different undertakings of contemporary Bikol writers. I actively participate in poetry readings, literary seminars, writers’ workshops, book launches, and meetings of literary organizations. In this way, I became involved in the reflourishing of Bikol Literature. I believe that being with writers is beneficial to the like-minded who wish to write because of the inspiration, solicitude, and friendship one will derive from them.

I teach language and literature at Central Bicol State University of Agriculture, Calabanga Campus while writing poetry in Bikol in my spare time. The curriculum for Bachelor of Arts-Bachelor of Secondary Education major in English that I took from 2005 to 2009, included creative writing. It was unintentional that I attended a creative writing class where I first learned the craft of poetry while preparing for my dream to become a teacher. Writing poetry becomes my way to appreciate the very life and understand the world outside myself better.

It is an advantage that I am both a teacher and writer. My experiences as a writer have contributed much to my instruction. Similarly, my realizations about being a young teacher influence what I write. My students contribute to my writing as I can revisit my childhood memories, which are good creative writing sources.

Writing has now become my personal way of responding to the world. In doing so, I am faced with the world’s abuses, sufferings, and apathy. Nevertheless, life must move on. As what Whitman wrote, “That you are here—that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.”

Jerome Hipolito’s book “Dyurnal Intris” is available for purchase for P350 at the Ateneo de Naga University Press and Savage Mind: Arts, Books, and Cinema in Naga City. The featured header photo: Fishing boats in Sabang, Calabanga, Camarines Sur (credit: Academic-Accelator.com)

About the book review author: CHRISTIAN OLIVER is a reporter for 103.1 Brigada News FM in Naga City (DWKM, owned by Century Broadcasting Network and operated by Brigada Mass Media Corporation), a contributing writer for TBC Publications. He was formerly a writer and broadcaster for Budyong Online, former Editor-in-Chief for The Pinnacle.