[ MAUKA MAKAI ]

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CRAIG T. KOJIMA / CKOJIMA@STARBULLETIN.COM Clockwise from left, Jhoanna Calma Salazar, Lee Tonouchi, Eric Alcantara and Normie Salvador all contributed to the local magazine "Hybolics 3" that focuses on "Growing Up Local Filipino" and features young local Filipino writers.

Facing their pasts

A group of young writers explain in
essays and poetry what it means
to them to have grown up as Filipinos
in Hawaii's diverse culture

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By Rosemarie Bernardo
rbernardo@starbulletin.com

Hybolics 3: Growing Up Local Filipino: By various writers (Hybolics Inc.), 80 pages, paperback, $9.95

Moving away from his old neighborhood in Waipahu allowed 28-year-old Normie Salvador to explore his roots through poetry.

Graffiti on the walls, roosters crowing during early morning hours and police cars escorting prison vans were some of the observations he attempted to put behind him.

"These are the things that I didn't want to deal with as a child," said Salvador, a second-generation Filipino who was born and raised in Waipahu.

But as he grew older, Salvador gained a better understanding of his former surroundings and realized he was shortchanging himself by blocking out his past.

Salvador, along with other writers of Filipino descent, will participate in a reading based on the third edition of the local literary magazine Hybolics, which focuses on "Growing Up Local Filipino." The event will be held Thursday at the Filipino Community Center at 94-428 Mokuola St. in Waipahu.

At first the editors of the literary magazine hadn't planned on having a special theme for the third edition. But as they noticed a large presence of young Filipino writers whose writings had been selected, "we figgah-ed we should go wit da flow," said Lee Tonouchi, a co-editor and one of the founders of Hybolics, in the magazine.

Compared with an older generation of writers in touch with their roots, Tonouchi described the new generation of young Filipino writers as having grown up disconnected from their cultural identity -- some now turning back while others are taking a sarcastic approach of their ethnicity.

In a personal essay entitled "Spiders in the Field: A Young Filipino Writer in Hawaii," Salvador describes himself as a cane spider in the plantation fields instead of a cane stalk.

"I look at some of the stories still being published today, stories of an older generation which are becoming more difficult for the young emerging generation to understand. How can we really understand how difficult the plantation life was without truly living it?" stated Salvador in his essay.

Salvador, a co-editor and one of the founders of Hybolics, initially delved into science-fiction, fantasy and Japanese anime writing to help him escape reality.

"I just wanted to get away," he said.

Now living in Royal Kunia, Salvador said the mental and physical distance has helped him look at his old neighborhood around Kahualena Street with some nostalgia.

Salvador's poem "Waipahu One Morning" was published in Bamboo Ridge.

"One of the biggest mistakes I made is trying to escape," he said. Now, he said, "I look at the world around me. I pay attention."

AS SALVADOR digs deeper into his own cultural identity, 27-year-old Eric Alcantara, also a second-generation Filipino, who was born and raised in Aiea, has developed a more caustic perspective of his heritage.

Alibata, an ancient Philippine script, is shown on the stamp above. Some people believe Alibata has an association with folk magic, and the power to grant luck or strength. Graphic designer Michael Cueva often incorporates alibata in his work.

"If they (readers) take it too seriously, they're not going to like it," Alcantara said.

After taking two creative-writing courses at the University of Hawaii at Manoa, an English professor there who was impressed with his poetry advised Alcantara to submit his work for publishing.

In spring of 2000, Alcantara was elated to receive a letter from the editors of Hybolics describing their interest in publishing his work.

"It was very exciting," he said.

His poem entitled "I'm Filipino, So What's the Big Deal" describes a Filipino's angst in dealing with those who use their ethnicity to gain support or empathy.

An excerpt from a poem set at Leeward Community College describes a person of Filipino descent attempting to lure Alcantara to vote in the student government elections:

Hui, shht, pare

I try not to look, but it's too late

Hui, pare. Eh bote porr me. Student gobernor

Us pilipinos habe to stick togeder you know?

Pinoy porr de pepol!

Hmm, so if I vote for you that'll make me a

Certified balut-eating degenerate, right?

The poem "pokes fun at the way I was raised," Alcantara said.

"It's written to be intentionally funny."

Alcantara believes many who migrate to the islands from the Philippines perceive themselves as an elitist race.

"They should look at diversity more," he said.

Since the poem was published, Alcantara has received mixed reactions from readers. Some are able to relate to it, while others are offended.

Through his poems, Alcantara hopes to change and broaden the minds of Filipino-Americans who migrated here from the motherland toward their own race and to gain a better understanding of their children who were raised in Hawaii.

For Honolulu resident Jhoanna Calma Salazar, Alcantara's poem described how she felt while growing up in Chicago and how irritated she became when Filipinos attempted to relate to her through her ethnicity.

During her late teens, Salazar said she began to appreciate the acknowledgment as she became more aware of racial issues.

As part of her curriculum to obtain a degree in education from the University of Illinois at Chicago, Salazar said she was required to tutor students in English.

During that time, a woman in her 50s "refused my services because of my race," said Salazar, who was born in Pampanga, Philippines.

The refusal heavily affected Salazar. Five months later, she left Chicago and moved to Kihei, Maui, to live with her sister, Janette.

Salazar, 30, who had developed an interest in Asian-American literature while living in Chicago, said she is not surprised by the number of young Filipino writers whose poems and short stories were published in the magazine's third edition, because of the state's large Asian-American population.

Salazar's poem called "False God" was based on her drive up Haleakala after she broke up with a boyfriend. The visit gave her the strength to find her identity before they had met.

"It was an incredible feeling -- almost freeing," she said.

Shortly after arriving in Maui in the mid-1990s, Salazar rode the airport's WikiWiki shuttle and was told by another passenger that she would feel comfortable on the Valley Isle.

"It was completely true. It just reminded me of the Philippines," Salazar said of Maui's tropical plants and warm weather and the large Asian-American population.

"It was such a different feeling ... a home feeling that I belonged."

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