MANILA, Philippines ? In R. Kwan Laurel's "Ongpin Stories," a sublime collection of short stories about a Chinese family and their community, Binondo is a culture as much as it is a place.
"I hope these stories will remind people of where Tsinoys came from," Laurel told this writer, "beyond the hype of Tim Yap, John Gokongwei, Lucio Tan, Mary Ong and Atong Ang, all examples of extreme appetites for accumulation."
Written in a spare and sometimes witty style, the stories lend a literary snapshot of a postwar diaspora, a prequel to the evolution of today's Tsinoy. The details are telling, especially to a generation tethered to Old World expectations, and smothered with Instik stereotypes at the same time.
"The Math Wizard" recalls memories of young friends named after American presidents or Hollywood celebrities. It reminds me of a schoolmate baptized with the name Bruce Lee, after the kung fu expert; and there is an Edgar Allan Pe, who is a real person.
Holy Week meant classmates coming back from HK wearing Giordano shirts-until its coolness got diluted when it became a Divisoria staple-a memory that has found its way in "Ongpin." The author notes that he still comes from "a generation that experienced racism in a very real way, back when many young Chinese Filipinos were ashamed of being known to their non-Chinese friends that they are Chinese."
Obvious affection
A motley cast of characters populates Laurel's stories. Some are clever caricatures, most are precise I-know-someone-like-this parodies.
Of these, however, there is an obvious affection for one of the main characters, the Grandfather. The affection was inspired by the author's grandfather, to whom he partly dedicates the book, with the real and fictitious grandfathers giving the quintessential immigrant story.
A doctorate degree-holder in English Studies (Creative Writing) from University of the Philippines, Laurel once wrote for the National Midweek, a political weekly of the 1980s and '90s. His stories flow with a political and ideological undertone.
In "Amah," a tender sunset romance that recalls the luminosity of Sarah Polley's recent film, "Away from Her", the story is not just about romantic love in a community very conscious about appearances. It is also about the secondary role of women in society. These conventions confront the unconventional love of two strong-willed senior citizens amidst issues of colonialism and colonial mentality. It is a clash of values on many levels.
"Ongpin Stories" focuses on a transition period in the Tsinoy's struggle for identity, an era when the word Tsinoy was still unthinkable. The Chinese words in the book cover translate to "family," which connotes what is good or bad about Tsinoys: They sometimes can just revolve around one family, or that this Ongpin street, or Binondo, is one family.
The author himself thinks the long process to come out with a book was largely because he had to fulfill his roles in his family as eldest son and later as husband and father.
Then, as now, Ongpin Street continues to be the nexus of immigrant activity, a symbolic "street of gold" to newcomers from China (the TDKs or tai diok kas, or, literally, "mainlanders", as they are known colloquially) who still follow the yellow brick road to Chinatown every day with their hopes and ambitions.
Theirs is a different Binondo, and they are another generation of Binondo Chinese. Their stories are being written as we speak, and perhaps one day these can be a sequel to "Ongpin Stories." Meantime, Laurel's mentor, the late National Artist NVM Gonzalez, articulates it best when he writes on the book's back cover: "Ongpin lives in these stories."
"Ongpin Stories" is published by Kaisa Para Sa Kaunlaran.
