“Her Son, Jose Rizal” is a brilliant theatre piece on the Philippines’ national hero, Dr Jose Rizal, during Spain’s colonization of the Philippines in the 18th century. This one-act play is a recollection of Jose’s childhood days and some of those precious moments with his mother, Dona Teodora and siblings Soledad and Paciano, while in prison writing his last poem (“Mi Ultimo Adios”) and awaiting execution for conspiracy, sedition and rebellion in Bagumbayan, Manila.

A maiden production by Fine Artists Collaboration, Director Armando “RC” Reyes brings together on stage professional and amateur artists led by singer actor RJ Rosales as “Jose Rizal”. RJ’s stage performance credits include Miss Saigon, where he earned a Best Supporting Actor nomination at the Helpmann Awards, Beauty and the Beast, Forbidden City, Cabaret, Chang and En. RJ also performed in live concerts in America, Australia, Philippines, Japan and other Asian countries.

The cast is bound to enthral Sydneysiders as each one pulls on those patriotic heart strings to commemorate the 149th birth anniversary of the patriot and pride of the Malayan Race.

June 17 18 and 19th June 2010
7pm

Matinee: 20th june 2010

2pm

Tom Mann Theatre
Address
136-140 Chalmers Street
Surry Hills
NSW
2010
Australia

CAST

In Spanish, Ilustrado means “enlightened one.” During the 19th century, it referred to the Philippines’ Europe-educated literati, whose revolutionary ideas helped establish the foundations for Asia’s first democracy. Fast-forward 200 years: expatriate Filipino author Miguel Syjuco has put a modern spin on this dated term with his 2008 Man Asia Literary Prize–winning novel Ilustrado. Syjuco’s novel follows the exploits of a young Filipino protagonist — also named Miguel Syjuco — who returns to the Philippines and the past he left behind to investigate the death of his dissident mentor Crispin Salvador. This satire of Philippine society comes at a time when this Southeast Asian nation stands at a political crossroads. Born into a well-to-do political family himself, Syjuco is not unfamiliar with the elite class he parodies, but he is quick to point out the differences between himself and his fictional namesake. During his whirlwind Asian promotional tour, Syjuco spoke with TIME in Hong Kong about the power of the written word and his transnational exploits as a modern-day Ilustrado.

How was your return to the Philippines? Was it a big homecoming for you?
It was. I saw friends who I haven’t seen in a decade, in many cases. I spoke at my alma mater, the Ateneo. I saw all these teachers who, quite rightly, are surprised that I ever did something, got anywhere with my life. I surprise myself that I’m not dead in the gutter somewhere, surprised that I haven’t given up. (See pictures of the 2009 politically driven massacre in the Philippines.)

What drove you to leave to begin with?
I left to pursue my education as a creative writer. I studied in New York. I fell in love with an Australian-born, half-Filipina girl. So we moved to Australia when she went to her university and I moved with her. We moved to Montreal because she was going to take her year abroad and I wanted to see if I could keep on writing there. It’s really hard to make it as a writer in the Philippines. But I also wanted to see if I could make it on my own. I wanted to live in a place where nobody knew my last name and didn’t ask where I went to school. I wanted to get by on my own merit. As many young men and women do, they have to leave home, leave their parents — their loving parents — and strike out on their own to prove themselves.

In Ilustrado, the protagonist is named Miguel Syjuco. Why did you name him after yourself?
The Miguel Syjuco character is not me. I wanted him to represent my own fears and frustrations and guilt, my own worst tendencies and my optimistic expectations. He’s a cautionary tale for me. But he’s also an examination of the darkest things that haunt me as a person. I named him after me because I think it keeps the reader a little bit more engaged and wondering what’s real and what’s not. And that’s a good thing. (See the TIME 100 list of the world’s most influential people.)

What is your writing process like? How do you motivate yourself to fill the page?
I treat my writing like a day job, like my main job, even if for many years I was doing other jobs to pay the bills. I worked as a copy editor. I was a medical guinea pig. I was an eBay power seller of ladies’ handbags. I was an assistant to a bookie at the horse races. I bartended. I did anything I could to make ends meet. And those to me were hobbies that paid money, because my main job, even if it didn’t pay any money, was creative writing. So I’d wake up, and I’d go straight to my desk, and I’d work until I couldn’t work anymore. I feel like an overworked executive trying to make a promotion. I think that’s how writers have to do it. I think of the romance novelist Nora Roberts. Her philosophy is pared down to three words: butt in chair. So I stick my behind in my office chair in front of my computer and just work.

That must take a lot of discipline.
Discipline and desperation, I guess. And delusion.

As a diasporic author, did you feel any pressure representing your mother country?
I’m a Filipino. I’m nothing else but a Filipino. I’d like to be a writer, not just defined by race. The book deals with those issues — the guilt and the sense of purpose and wondering if what you are doing is right or wrong. But I think that’s natural. I think that anyone living abroad would feel that way. And if you were living at home, you’d be feeling other things. So I guess I am a diasporic writer. If you ask me, I’m just a dude who sits at his desk and writes as best he can. And everything else is just subsets of that.

It was Jessica Hagedorn who once told me, “Don’t just try to be a Filipino writer. Try to be a writer.” The beauty about being a writer is that you put yourself in other people’s shoes. You imagine the lives of your characters. My writing changed after she told me that. It stopped being so angry and militantly nationalistic. I stopped trying to explain the Philippines, or I stopped trying to prove everybody wrong about the preconceptions and misconceptions that they have about Filipinos. I started just focusing on the story. The book is about the Philippines, but it’s about the Philippines that I’ve created within the context of the novel. So it’s a real place, but it is a work of fiction.

With the elections happening, your novel comes at an important time for the Philippines. Did you plan this release purposefully?
Yes, I pushed my publishers to do it. They’re wonderful. They listened, and they understand how important this is. I wanted it to come out before the elections. It’s funny — as I was revising it this last year, a lot of the things that go on in the book seem to have happened. It seems prescient almost. And I thought at first, “Well, why is this? Am I just ripping off? Am I Nostradamus here?” But no, I think it’s really just because the Philippines is in a cycle of constantly recurring problems and issues that we have never really solved. That’s why I’m able to write about these things in the book, because they’re just constantly recurring. And hopefully now that I’ve articulated them, put them down, people can read about them. Now we can see them a little bit more clearly and maybe turn our eye towards discussing solutions.

So you believe that words can create change?
I think every writer at their heart believes that when they sit down and write, they can do something meaningful with their work and they can incite change. It’s what keeps us writing. Well, maybe some writers do it for the money, but I certainly am not. But I have no illusions about the idea or even the possibility that my book will come out and all of a sudden everybody’s going to vote properly and they’re going to change the country and they’re going to get rid of all the corruption. It’s not going to happen.

Do you have hope for the future of the Philippines?
Yes. I believe change will come from the grass-roots level. I don’t think we have a Barack Obama who can inspire the people and really lead them to change. We’re a fractured society, and I think that change will come from organizing the people who can benefit most from change and helping them help themselves. But again, I’m just a writer. I don’t know much about politics.

There we were, Elton Lugay (Philippine News branch manager for the East Coast) and I, finding ourselves drenched and thrust into a New York moment called Fashion Week – on a rainy Sept. 11 morning.

It’s that time of the year when designers converge on a makeshift tent on Bryant Park on Fifth Ave., to unveil their latest collections, and with celebrity clients rooting for them. The designers are a mixed bag of style icons (Diane von Furstenberg, Carolina Herrera, Bill Blass) and up-and-coming trendsetting talents, sometimes straight out of fashion schools.

Cebu-born Monique Lhuillier, whose gowns have draped Hollywood’s hottest stars (Angelina Jolie, Sarah Jessica Parker, Debra Messing, Britney Spears, and Lea Salonga, to name a few), is somewhere in between. She has been around six years as a Hollywood stylist, but her designs remain fresh and continue to excite fashion editors, merchandisers and the celebrities who proudly proclaim Monique’s name on the red carpet. He biggest coup was designing Britney Spears’ 2004 wedding gown.

In Fashion Week, she showcased her Spring collection of ready-to-wear formals and cocktail dresses, a collection characterized by ruffles, bows, pleats in soft fabric and candy colors of vanilla, mint, pistachio and butterscotch.

“This season is about embracing your femininity,” she said, adding further how her clothes accentuate women’s curves, while giving the illusion of length. To further dramatize the feminine aspect, there is a lot of draping and embroidery on her designs.

“I saw the color palette flash before my eyes while enjoying a box of my favorite Laduree macaroons,” she explained her choice of delectable colors.

In the audience was Grammy awardee country singer LeAnn Rimes escorted by her husband.

The photographers took their time snapping photos of the couple who gamely obliged. When the lights began to flash and the loud music came on, 20 naif-looking models burst on the ramp parading Monique’s clothes in comfort and confidence.

Real people would find many of Monique’s cocktail dresses reasonably wearable. There is a lot of layering using soft material such as tulle, organza, silk chiffon, etc. and the skirt billows at the hem. It’s not the kind of style that one would wear and feel confined while in it. The style is sexy as it is playful.

Monique comes from a Cebuano family known for their industriousness and style. Her family owns a successful pawnshop chain in the Philippines, her mother a prominent society A-lister.

She went to a boarding school in Switzerland as a teenager and also studied fashion design there. Los Angeles became her home after college and ultimately her launching pad. She began designing eveningwear while working in a Paris couture shop in LA. While planning her wedding to investment banker Tom Bugbee, she found herself creating bridal designs. Her debut collection of bridalwear was well received by editors and merchandisers.

Although the USA Today faults her Fashion Week collection as “very tame,” many in the audience seemed to like Monique’s confectionery creations judging from the energetic applause to her ‘bow.’ Ditto for the model whose slightly unsteady steps became something of an icebreaker for those who can’t tell a taffeta from a tulle.

The group’s two-hour show at the Enmore Theatre in Sydney finished more than an hour ago and was a huge success. Their rendition of global hit ‘Where is the love?’ drew a standing ovation. The song is a track from their latest album Elephunk, which is certified gold in the US, the UK and the Philippines.

But rather than talk about the show, something else is on his mind. His grumbling stomach. ‘Do you know where we can get food?’ he asks. The last time he ate was over eight hours ago when he bought a meal from KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken).

Hang on. KFC? What happened to living it up and dining on seafood and wine at a five-star hotel somewhere?

This little fact speaks volumes about apl.de.ap. He is the antithesis of the archetypal ghetto-fabulous rapper. There are no bodyguards around, no Ludacris-style gold medallions swinging from his neck and definitely none of that ‘pass the Courvoisier’ lifestyle.

And so, at 1am in the morning, we headed to a café in the scenic district of Circular Quay, overlooking the Sydney Opera House, to get food. As he tucks into a plate of chicken satay with rice (”I gotta have some rice,” he says), apl.de.ap talks about his Filipino heritage, his music and the success of Black Eyed Peas.

Who is apl.de.ap?

Apl.de.ap, real name Allan Pineda-Lindell (hence the initials ‘apl’), was born on the 28^th of November 1974 in Pampanga, Philippines. His mom is Filipina and his birth dad is African-American. He left the Philippines in 1989 and is based in Los Angeles. In LA, he met will.i.am, real name William Adams. They formed a breakdance crew in the early 90s that later spawned Black Eyed Peas (BEP). The two other members of the group are Jaime ‘Taboo’ Gomez and Stacy ‘Fergie’ Ferguson.

Despite leaving the country 15 years ago, Apl has not forgotten his roots. He can speak Tagalog and is fluent in his native dialect Pampagueno. He says: “You meet Filipinos who say they can’t speak Tagalog and you think, wait, I can make out your Filipino accent.” Chuckles.

The Apl Song

This off-the-cuff remark gives a glimpse of Apl’s character. He is intensely patriotic and draws on his Filipino heritage for inspiration. One of the songs in BEP’s album ‘Elephunk’ is called ‘the apl song’, which talks about his childhood experience. It contains elements from Philippine folk group Asin’s Balita.

The song was inspired by a personal tragedy in his life. Apl composed it after his brother committed suicide three years ago. He says: “I spoke to him on the phone and I thought ‘something is wrong, something is wrong’ and that I needed to go home. But I was too late. Two weeks later, he committed suicide.” It is this attempt to reach out to him that was reflected in the lines:

‘Oh brother, wish I could have helped you out.’

His brother’s  death, which Apl believed was caused by drug-induced depression, spurred him to make changes to his own life. Apl used to do hard drugs (‘a lot of Filipinos use shabu in LA) but is now completely rehabilitated.

Filipino folk music

Apl’s music is very much influenced by Filipino folk songs. He says: “There are so many that are really good. Last time I went back to the Philippines (he spent six days there over the Christmas break), everyone wanted to sound like Chingy (an up-and-coming U.S. based rapper) and I’m like, I want to listen to the old stuff.”
If you compare the guitar play in ‘the apl song’ and ‘where is the love?’,you would probably hear some resemblance. He says: “Where is the love? has been influenced by the apl song.”

Back to his homeland

Apl can’t wait to go to the Philippines in May where Black Eyed Peas will stage a concert for the first time. He says: “It is a reward for all the hard work we’ve put in the past. For some people, their idea of a reward might be going on holidays in Africa or somewhere but to me, it’s about going back to my country and being able to perform there.”

His fond memories of the Philippines harks back to his life as a young ‘man of the land’: riding and milking carabaos (water buffalos), planting root crops, climbing coconut trees and fetching water out of communal water pumps.

Back in the days when he was poor? “I didn’t think it was bad or that I was poor growing up like that at all. I was happy.” Like the lines in his song:

Some would call it hell but to me it was heaven.

From carabaos to California

At 14 years of age, Apl’s destiny took a different turn. He migrated to America thanks to the help of a stranger, who became his stepdad. Apl explains that when he was a child, his mother signed him up to a foundation where people from the U.S. help support Amerasian kids. The man assigned to him offered him a sponsorship.

“I had poor eyesight when I was young and despite that, I was making good grades. I think he took pity on me and wanted me to go to the US so I can get my eyes fixed,” Apl says.

And so in 1992, he left his family and boarded a plane to Los Angeles. “I hated sunsets for a long time because it was sunset when I left home.”

The plane trip alone was scary enough for the young teenager but on arrival, Apl faced a bigger problem. He didn’t know how to speak English. “On my first day, I sat on the couch for eight hours not saying anything because I didn’t know how to say what I wanted to say in English.”

Black Eyed Peas’ success

Fast forward to more than a decade later and he was signed up by a record company doing what he grew to love: dicing and splicing the English language as a rapper.

What is his advice to those who want to follow his footsteps? “You just got to put in the hard work. Will and I used to practice everyday, even trying to come up with new steps or new ideas.”

As for their success: “I’m still overwhelmed by it. To me, everything is a blessing from God. But y’know, it took us ten years to get the recognition. We’re just so glad to be busy.”

From gigs in nightclubs to selling out arenas, the Peas have arrived. And Apl is smiling. Not bad for the young kid who used to milk water buffalos and plant root crops with his bare hands. As the sun set on that fateful day he boarded the plane to the US, little did he know what awaited him.

As he explains in his tribute to his homeland:

We’re makin’ it happen, from nothing to somethin’.

So he has.