In a month and a half, we’re finally launching in Alberta the landmark Magdaragat: An Anthology of Filipino-Canadian Writing. We were slated to do the launch back in December but there were some hiccups.
Now, that there’s calm, we’re going to try again and along with my co-authors from Alberta, we’re going to launch the book. It’s been launched in Vancouver and Toronto. On Friday, our friends in Winnipeg are doing their own launch.
I will be reading from my piece in the book.
As I prepare to read from “Tubigan, tumbang preso, taguan and other preludes to a trauma,” I feel a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. This story delves into my teenage years, exploring experiences that have shaped me profoundly.
Reading in a public space adds an extra layer of exposure. Unlike the private reading I once held in the comfort of my home, this time I’ll be sharing with strangers. It’s a daunting prospect, but one I feel compelled to undertake.
Having my friends there to listen means the world to me. This piece is deeply personal, touching on something I’ve carried for more than half my life. Their support and love as they bear witness to my story are invaluable.
The title itself hints at a juxtaposition between childhood innocence and the weight of trauma. It’s a reflection of the complexity of my experiences, wrapped up in memories of games like “tumbang preso” and “taguan.”
Sharing this piece feels like a cathartic release. It’s a way for me to confront my own demons and, hopefully, foster empathy and understanding among those who listen. I believe in the power of storytelling to heal and connect, and I hope that by sharing my story, others may find solace in shared experiences and realize they’re not alone.
In essence, “Tubigan, tumbang preso, taguan and other preludes to a trauma” is not just a story – it’s a journey through my past, a testament to resilience, and an invitation to others to join me in exploring the depths of human experience.
Renato Gandia 