http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ZnqHbNVLnY
"I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" - Handel's Messiah. Soprano Aria performed during the Funeral Service of Pastor Ban Alsaybar.
November 24, 2007, Vallejo SDA Church, Glendale, California
From the video collection of Eugene Carbajal
BAN, THE MAN: An Insight Into Uncommon Creativity and Conviction
A. P. Roda Memorial Lecture/2008
by Bangele D. Alsaybar, PhD (Anthropology, UCLA)
I wish to thank Dr. Miguel and AWESNA for giving me the honor of delivering this year's A.P. Roda Memorial Lecture. It was during the post-interment funeral reception for my father that Dr. Miguel told me that Dad had accepted to be this year's lecturer; but in view of his sudden death, could I step in and do the lecturing instead? Dad and I have the same shoe size (as well as a same pants, coat, and shirt sizes), but the similarities end there. To invoke the metaphor, no one can truly step into Dad's big shoes and duplicate his achievements as a writer, teacher, pastor and administrator. The best I can do is open a window into his life and thought, his passions, dreams, and sentiments. This requires me to engage in a highly reflective and interpretative mode, looking at his writing career and drawing from years of mealtime discussions with him on a wide range of topics—from religion and theology to political developments in the USA and the Philippines, the Iraq war and other world events.
(Photo of my dad on the left with his brother, uncle Delfe)
Dr. Herman Reyes, one of Dad's closest friends, wrote a biography of Dr. Ruben Manalaysay, first Filipino president of PUC (now AUP). Ka Herman titled his book "Dr. Man, the Man." Today I'm going to borrow a bit from Ka Herman and title my presentation "Ban, the Man," an apparent play on Dad's Americanized nickname. What sort of man was Ban Alsaybar? What can we learn from his life and work that can inspire our youth and contribute to the creation of a university environment at AUP? Is it worthwhile at all, to reflect on the prospects for developing new models of leadership for the 21st century, with elements drawn from the lives of creative and independent-thinking men like Ban Alsaybar and A.P. Roda?
AUP's change from college to university status was greeted with much hope and celebration. Despite formidable barriers and problems, AUP appears to have stabilized; the physical infrastructure is progressing, the campus is green and beautiful, and the nursing program continues its tradition of excellence. The Ambassadors chorale continues to shine and impress audiences in the Philippines and abroad. AUP's website expresses the school's aspiration to become a world-class center of academic excellence. Years ago, former AWESNA President Dr. Onie Pascual shared his dream about AUP attaining world-class status, firmly grounded upon the spiritual principles on which it was founded—and I totally agree with him. His drew up a scenario of a community of scholars and leaders in their academic fields, a vibrant research program, visionary administrators, and, I quote directly from him, "a strong reliable board the majority of whose members are not denominational employees beholden to the wishes of their appointing superiors; that members will be selected not because of their holding office in the various missions or institutions within the denomination, but because they are qualified to sit in the board by virtue of their experience and expertise in education, business, law, finance, management, and administration," unquote.
To Dr. Pascual's dream, I would add that to achieve world-class status, AUP must provide an intellectual environment conducive for the development of a new generation of creative and independent thinking graduates. Alongside the vast army of competent nurses, dentists, and other health-care professionals, AUP might aim to produce creative writers, educators, scientists, and other artists of national and international reputation.. It appears that among the arts, it is writing as a field of endeavor that has grossly been neglected by our community. While musicians and singers receive applause and adulation, writers in our midst remain obscure and unheralded. I remember how pathetic my father looked as he tried to peddle around his books. A whole stack of unsold Mirroflect issues continues to gather dust in some private storeroom.
Aggravating the trivialization of writing as an art is the similar neglect of the social sciences. A strong social science program would be liberating and empowering to students; competently and creatively taught, cultural systems and social structures will no longer look abstract and remote—but will become real, and issues of social justice, inequality, and all sorts of pernicious and dehumanizing ideologies will come to light. The result can be very empowering, leading to a healthy sense of history and culture: a more dynamic and creative environment that characterizes the "world class university." (I must point out that every world-class institution—secular or sectarian, from UP and Ateneo de Manila, to Harvard to the University of California System, has its core of respected writers). The goal therefore, would be to duplicate as many principled Ban Alsaybars Alfonso Rodas as is possible, if AUP is to develop a new breed of Christian Adventist leaders for the 21st century.
On that fateful morning of November 13, 2007, just around thirty minutes before massive bleeding in the brain would render him comatose, Dad sent an email to Doctor Miguel: I quote: "Please give me a one or two statement endorsement re my having versified my biography in Tagalog and English. Both bound thesis like, 613 verses. Know—trying to stimulate our members to do something new. Thank you."
Indeed, up to the very moment when his tired brain finally gave way, Dad never let up, relentless in his personal crusade to inspire others to write. Dad never said any last words for us. That's why what he said in his last message to Doc Miguel, that he was "trying to stimulate our members to do something new," continually haunts me, because it struck me that the message was intended not only for the larger community but also for me and my family. I must admit that even within our family, we did not fully appreciate his relentless effort at versification during the last years of his life; we felt that in this modern day and age people had no time to read verse. Personally I felt that his creative energies were better channeled to writing in prose; a prosaically written history of Adventism in the Philippines would ensure him a wider readership, I even suggested.
Dad's creativity and devotion to poetry and prose reveal a remarkable awareness of the world out there, a generosity of spirit, and a sensitivity to, and appreciation of humans around him; family, clan members, and friends became unwitting subjects for versified profiles and tributes. The alumni community is relatively affluent, with large numbers of folks in the medical professions. I view his lonely crusade to promote writing as his way of reminding this community that while material wealth can be a blessing, we must guard against the blight of materialism that is eroding the souls and spirits of many. In his literary way, he drew attention to the need to feed the spirit and the intellect with nourishment from reading, good writing, and poetry.
At the very core of his creativity and strength of spirit was an admirable sense of history, a quality so lacking in our community. Thus he described himself in his "Versatemps" as a "chronicler" who was both a reporter and observer. Dad sharpened his historical consciousness by reading biographies of great world figures and Filipino heroes. When he'd take breaks from his frenetic writing routine, he'd be watching CNN or Ted Koppel's "Nightline" program. One of the books he enjoyed reading was Carlos Bulosan's "America is in the Heart," now required reading in Asian American Studies courses. Up to this day a mural reproduction depicting the Filipino American struggle in America adorns his study room wall.
I believe that Dad's historical sense not only informed and enriched his creativity, but it also sharpened his sense of social justice and equality. Thus, while he was a loyal soldier of the church, he was known to his colleagues and co-workers for speaking out his mind when the situation called for it, another quality in such short supply in our community. As a delegate to the GC world sessions in 1970, Dad gave voice to the subordinated Asian constituencies by fearlessly advocating the appointment of Asians to higher positions in the church structure. His effort bore fruit with the appointment of Asians and Filipinos, but he was a marked man from then on, in his own words, treated like a persona non grata. Almost two decades later, Dr. Alfonso Roda would suffer an even more terrible fate for defying attempts by higher authorities to decapitate AUP's graduate school.
Aside from collecting life histories of notable alumni and friends of AUP, my father sensed that an effective way to perpetuate the university's collective memory was to develop the fledgling alumni archives project. He and mom generously committed their time, resources, and creative energies for this project. Dad lived long enough to attend the inauguration of AUP's archives and museum a year ago, a truly proud moment for him. Two days before his untimely death, he told Dr. Miguel in an email: "I think it's time we really intensified our efforts to provide a home to the collection we have right now. A room in the home of an alumnus/alumna (even a temporary one) while we are waiting for the building project at Central Filipino, will do. We should pay rental (if necessary) or better yet, issue a receipt. What do you say?"
I feel honored to take over my father's chairmanship of AWESNA's history and archives committee. He has left a precious legacy, in his lonely crusade to stimulate the alumni to do something new. The task of carrying on Ban Alsaybar's dream has now fallen on our hands. We cannot afford to let this legacy simply die away. If you can't provide temporary shelter for the archives here, there are a hundred other ways you can help. For example, donating memorabilia and other cultural artifacts that would help us establish not only historical timelines but cultures past and present. I would greatly appreciate duplicate copies of wedding and funeral videos or dvds and other ritual events. And we would want to establish a photo bank of pictures new and old. There's an old saying that says, "a picture is worth more than a thousand words." To illustrate, let me show you some old pictures that inform us about the forties in PUC, particularly fashion and dress style.
In keeping with the basic analytical orientations of anthropology and the interpretive social sciences, I situate Dad within the larger historical and cultural context of his time. This presentation represents exploratory work on constructions of manhood in Filipino Adventist society. Across various cultures and time periods, men and women utilize various resources to construct gender identities. Clothing and dress represent significant gender-constructing resources, aside from indicating class and status, and being laden with cultural symbols and meanings. Dress styles reflect the various cultural and civilizational influences operative in a specific society. In the case of Ban Alsaybar and his PUC community of the American imperial occupation, western colonial influences (Hispanic and anglo-American) were dominant.
Ever since I was little I had seen pictures of Dad impeccably dressed in white "de hilo" suits, bowtie or necktie, and shiny black and white combination shoes. I heard from some of his contemporaries that he was a good dresser. But I did not fully appreciate the cultural significance of dress until the time I did field research on Filipino gangs and youth cultures in Los Angeles many, many years later. That's when I discovered the way ethnic and gender identities are constructed through dress styles. This is when I realized that photographs are extremely important as a way of interpreting cultural behavior past and present.
Dad left us some old pictures. But I needed other photographs that would help me culturally contextualize him and his style of dress. In this regard, I was helped by friends and relatives far and near; I interviewed them either personally or by phone, and some lent me precious photographs. Oyeng Regoso Chan lent me an old 1941 Balintawak Memoirs copy; Dr. and Mrs. Romulo and Carmen Valdez sent me an old picture of the entire academy student body and faculty of 1940-41, after spending nearly an hour with me over the phone; I interviewed my uncle Jara Alsaybar via long distance phone (he lives in Nasugbu, Batangas) and he sent pictures of him wearing "de hilo" through daughter Weva; I interviewed Prof Ben Salvador at his home in Arcadia, and he gave me copies of pictures of himself wearing de hilo when he was wed to the late Mrs. Alfea Salvador; Dr. Norbing Legaspi, a classmate of Dad, gave me an hour-long telephone interview, where he reminisced on those good old Baesa days.
As you can see, Dad was a very attractive man dressed in "de hilo" suit. I am told that many women were attracted to him. Dad embraced a style of men's formal wear that seemed to be the norm during his time of youth. It is amazing to see photographs of the entire faculty and student body all dressed in immaculate white, of groups of men and women all dressed in white. White men's suits were of different fabrics: those made of silk or seda were popularly called "sharkskin," and "drill" was from cotton. The "de hilo," Dad's favored type, was of linen fabric. The most expensive brand of "de hilo" was "ambassador;" another popular brand was "brillante" and a third one was called "rami" (not clear if it's a brand or a type of fabric).
Photo of PUC faculty and students courtesy of Dr and Mrs Romulo Valdez
Why would native Filipinos want to wear white suits in a tropical climate that was dusty, muddy, humid, hot, and at times rainy? I got a variety of responses from my informants; the responses suggest differing levels of meaning. Apparently, the anglo American missionaries also wore elegant white suits, and someone said that the missionaries provided a model for sartorial elegance. But most said that it's probably reflective of Spanish colonial influence; white dress style was associated with Spanish aristocracy and colonial class distinction. Spanish masters often wore white. Another explanation is that white is a sign of professionalism, associated with white collar, office work. Still others explained that wearing white stood for purity and holiness, and was therefore most appropriate for wearing on the Sabbath.
There were class divisions in pre-WW II PUC, and perhaps most were from humble socio-economic backgrounds. Yet even if one was poor and had only two pairs of clothes, one pair would be a white suit for Sabbath wear. Imagine the ambience created by a whole community of believers forming a sea of white on the Sabbath. My Dad came from a poor family and was a working student. He was a self-supporting student who worked at the wood products factory. I'm sure there were many other young men like him, of humble origins, who wore Sabbath white suits. While at work they were sweaty and dirty, looking much like laboring class. Once they wore their white suits, however, they subverted conventional class distinctions by altering their persona and dressing like aristocrats even for a day.
At any rate, de hilos and other white suit fabrics appear to have waned in popularity by the end of the 1950s. If you were to leaf through Balintawak Memoirs of the early sixties, you'll notice that wearing dark suits was becoming the norm among men. What caused the change in fashion and style? I think the quickening pace of life triggered by larger social and economic currents led to the invention of fabrics that were easier to maintain. The de hilo and other types of white suits required more maintenance time. The wearer had to starch and bleach these clothes in order to maintain their whiteness. The coming of "wash and wear" fabrics like nylon and polyester seemed to have brought an end to the era of immaculate white fashioned elegance more suited to slower pace of life. Then too, the barong tagalog was gaining more popularity as formal wear, riding on a wave of nationalism that was sweeping the Philippines.
(Speaker's note: In conclusion, I ad libbed a summarizing statement that recapitulated the need to gain a sense of history and appreciation of culture; this would be the best way to honor the memory of Ban Alsaybar and lay the foundation for a new generation of Christian Adventist leadership for the 21st century.)
"I Know That My Redeemer Liveth" - Handel's Messiah. Soprano Aria performed during the Funeral Service of Pastor Ban Alsaybar.
November 24, 2007, Vallejo SDA Church, Glendale, California
From the video collection of Eugene Carbajal
BAN, THE MAN: An Insight Into Uncommon Creativity and Conviction
A. P. Roda Memorial Lecture/2008
by Bangele D. Alsaybar, PhD (Anthropology, UCLA)
I wish to thank Dr. Miguel and AWESNA for giving me the honor of delivering this year's A.P. Roda Memorial Lecture. It was during the post-interment funeral reception for my father that Dr. Miguel told me that Dad had accepted to be this year's lecturer; but in view of his sudden death, could I step in and do the lecturing instead? Dad and I have the same shoe size (as well as a same pants, coat, and shirt sizes), but the similarities end there. To invoke the metaphor, no one can truly step into Dad's big shoes and duplicate his achievements as a writer, teacher, pastor and administrator. The best I can do is open a window into his life and thought, his passions, dreams, and sentiments. This requires me to engage in a highly reflective and interpretative mode, looking at his writing career and drawing from years of mealtime discussions with him on a wide range of topics—from religion and theology to political developments in the USA and the Philippines, the Iraq war and other world events.
(Photo of my dad on the left with his brother, uncle Delfe)
Dr. Herman Reyes, one of Dad's closest friends, wrote a biography of Dr. Ruben Manalaysay, first Filipino president of PUC (now AUP). Ka Herman titled his book "Dr. Man, the Man." Today I'm going to borrow a bit from Ka Herman and title my presentation "Ban, the Man," an apparent play on Dad's Americanized nickname. What sort of man was Ban Alsaybar? What can we learn from his life and work that can inspire our youth and contribute to the creation of a university environment at AUP? Is it worthwhile at all, to reflect on the prospects for developing new models of leadership for the 21st century, with elements drawn from the lives of creative and independent-thinking men like Ban Alsaybar and A.P. Roda?
AUP's change from college to university status was greeted with much hope and celebration. Despite formidable barriers and problems, AUP appears to have stabilized; the physical infrastructure is progressing, the campus is green and beautiful, and the nursing program continues its tradition of excellence. The Ambassadors chorale continues to shine and impress audiences in the Philippines and abroad. AUP's website expresses the school's aspiration to become a world-class center of academic excellence. Years ago, former AWESNA President Dr. Onie Pascual shared his dream about AUP attaining world-class status, firmly grounded upon the spiritual principles on which it was founded—and I totally agree with him. His drew up a scenario of a community of scholars and leaders in their academic fields, a vibrant research program, visionary administrators, and, I quote directly from him, "a strong reliable board the majority of whose members are not denominational employees beholden to the wishes of their appointing superiors; that members will be selected not because of their holding office in the various missions or institutions within the denomination, but because they are qualified to sit in the board by virtue of their experience and expertise in education, business, law, finance, management, and administration," unquote.
To Dr. Pascual's dream, I would add that to achieve world-class status, AUP must provide an intellectual environment conducive for the development of a new generation of creative and independent thinking graduates. Alongside the vast army of competent nurses, dentists, and other health-care professionals, AUP might aim to produce creative writers, educators, scientists, and other artists of national and international reputation.. It appears that among the arts, it is writing as a field of endeavor that has grossly been neglected by our community. While musicians and singers receive applause and adulation, writers in our midst remain obscure and unheralded. I remember how pathetic my father looked as he tried to peddle around his books. A whole stack of unsold Mirroflect issues continues to gather dust in some private storeroom.
Aggravating the trivialization of writing as an art is the similar neglect of the social sciences. A strong social science program would be liberating and empowering to students; competently and creatively taught, cultural systems and social structures will no longer look abstract and remote—but will become real, and issues of social justice, inequality, and all sorts of pernicious and dehumanizing ideologies will come to light. The result can be very empowering, leading to a healthy sense of history and culture: a more dynamic and creative environment that characterizes the "world class university." (I must point out that every world-class institution—secular or sectarian, from UP and Ateneo de Manila, to Harvard to the University of California System, has its core of respected writers). The goal therefore, would be to duplicate as many principled Ban Alsaybars Alfonso Rodas as is possible, if AUP is to develop a new breed of Christian Adventist leaders for the 21st century.
On that fateful morning of November 13, 2007, just around thirty minutes before massive bleeding in the brain would render him comatose, Dad sent an email to Doctor Miguel: I quote: "Please give me a one or two statement endorsement re my having versified my biography in Tagalog and English. Both bound thesis like, 613 verses. Know—trying to stimulate our members to do something new. Thank you."
Indeed, up to the very moment when his tired brain finally gave way, Dad never let up, relentless in his personal crusade to inspire others to write. Dad never said any last words for us. That's why what he said in his last message to Doc Miguel, that he was "trying to stimulate our members to do something new," continually haunts me, because it struck me that the message was intended not only for the larger community but also for me and my family. I must admit that even within our family, we did not fully appreciate his relentless effort at versification during the last years of his life; we felt that in this modern day and age people had no time to read verse. Personally I felt that his creative energies were better channeled to writing in prose; a prosaically written history of Adventism in the Philippines would ensure him a wider readership, I even suggested.
Dad's creativity and devotion to poetry and prose reveal a remarkable awareness of the world out there, a generosity of spirit, and a sensitivity to, and appreciation of humans around him; family, clan members, and friends became unwitting subjects for versified profiles and tributes. The alumni community is relatively affluent, with large numbers of folks in the medical professions. I view his lonely crusade to promote writing as his way of reminding this community that while material wealth can be a blessing, we must guard against the blight of materialism that is eroding the souls and spirits of many. In his literary way, he drew attention to the need to feed the spirit and the intellect with nourishment from reading, good writing, and poetry.
At the very core of his creativity and strength of spirit was an admirable sense of history, a quality so lacking in our community. Thus he described himself in his "Versatemps" as a "chronicler" who was both a reporter and observer. Dad sharpened his historical consciousness by reading biographies of great world figures and Filipino heroes. When he'd take breaks from his frenetic writing routine, he'd be watching CNN or Ted Koppel's "Nightline" program. One of the books he enjoyed reading was Carlos Bulosan's "America is in the Heart," now required reading in Asian American Studies courses. Up to this day a mural reproduction depicting the Filipino American struggle in America adorns his study room wall.
I believe that Dad's historical sense not only informed and enriched his creativity, but it also sharpened his sense of social justice and equality. Thus, while he was a loyal soldier of the church, he was known to his colleagues and co-workers for speaking out his mind when the situation called for it, another quality in such short supply in our community. As a delegate to the GC world sessions in 1970, Dad gave voice to the subordinated Asian constituencies by fearlessly advocating the appointment of Asians to higher positions in the church structure. His effort bore fruit with the appointment of Asians and Filipinos, but he was a marked man from then on, in his own words, treated like a persona non grata. Almost two decades later, Dr. Alfonso Roda would suffer an even more terrible fate for defying attempts by higher authorities to decapitate AUP's graduate school.
Aside from collecting life histories of notable alumni and friends of AUP, my father sensed that an effective way to perpetuate the university's collective memory was to develop the fledgling alumni archives project. He and mom generously committed their time, resources, and creative energies for this project. Dad lived long enough to attend the inauguration of AUP's archives and museum a year ago, a truly proud moment for him. Two days before his untimely death, he told Dr. Miguel in an email: "I think it's time we really intensified our efforts to provide a home to the collection we have right now. A room in the home of an alumnus/alumna (even a temporary one) while we are waiting for the building project at Central Filipino, will do. We should pay rental (if necessary) or better yet, issue a receipt. What do you say?"
I feel honored to take over my father's chairmanship of AWESNA's history and archives committee. He has left a precious legacy, in his lonely crusade to stimulate the alumni to do something new. The task of carrying on Ban Alsaybar's dream has now fallen on our hands. We cannot afford to let this legacy simply die away. If you can't provide temporary shelter for the archives here, there are a hundred other ways you can help. For example, donating memorabilia and other cultural artifacts that would help us establish not only historical timelines but cultures past and present. I would greatly appreciate duplicate copies of wedding and funeral videos or dvds and other ritual events. And we would want to establish a photo bank of pictures new and old. There's an old saying that says, "a picture is worth more than a thousand words." To illustrate, let me show you some old pictures that inform us about the forties in PUC, particularly fashion and dress style.
In keeping with the basic analytical orientations of anthropology and the interpretive social sciences, I situate Dad within the larger historical and cultural context of his time. This presentation represents exploratory work on constructions of manhood in Filipino Adventist society. Across various cultures and time periods, men and women utilize various resources to construct gender identities. Clothing and dress represent significant gender-constructing resources, aside from indicating class and status, and being laden with cultural symbols and meanings. Dress styles reflect the various cultural and civilizational influences operative in a specific society. In the case of Ban Alsaybar and his PUC community of the American imperial occupation, western colonial influences (Hispanic and anglo-American) were dominant.
Ever since I was little I had seen pictures of Dad impeccably dressed in white "de hilo" suits, bowtie or necktie, and shiny black and white combination shoes. I heard from some of his contemporaries that he was a good dresser. But I did not fully appreciate the cultural significance of dress until the time I did field research on Filipino gangs and youth cultures in Los Angeles many, many years later. That's when I discovered the way ethnic and gender identities are constructed through dress styles. This is when I realized that photographs are extremely important as a way of interpreting cultural behavior past and present.
Dad left us some old pictures. But I needed other photographs that would help me culturally contextualize him and his style of dress. In this regard, I was helped by friends and relatives far and near; I interviewed them either personally or by phone, and some lent me precious photographs. Oyeng Regoso Chan lent me an old 1941 Balintawak Memoirs copy; Dr. and Mrs. Romulo and Carmen Valdez sent me an old picture of the entire academy student body and faculty of 1940-41, after spending nearly an hour with me over the phone; I interviewed my uncle Jara Alsaybar via long distance phone (he lives in Nasugbu, Batangas) and he sent pictures of him wearing "de hilo" through daughter Weva; I interviewed Prof Ben Salvador at his home in Arcadia, and he gave me copies of pictures of himself wearing de hilo when he was wed to the late Mrs. Alfea Salvador; Dr. Norbing Legaspi, a classmate of Dad, gave me an hour-long telephone interview, where he reminisced on those good old Baesa days.
As you can see, Dad was a very attractive man dressed in "de hilo" suit. I am told that many women were attracted to him. Dad embraced a style of men's formal wear that seemed to be the norm during his time of youth. It is amazing to see photographs of the entire faculty and student body all dressed in immaculate white, of groups of men and women all dressed in white. White men's suits were of different fabrics: those made of silk or seda were popularly called "sharkskin," and "drill" was from cotton. The "de hilo," Dad's favored type, was of linen fabric. The most expensive brand of "de hilo" was "ambassador;" another popular brand was "brillante" and a third one was called "rami" (not clear if it's a brand or a type of fabric).
Photo of PUC faculty and students courtesy of Dr and Mrs Romulo Valdez
Why would native Filipinos want to wear white suits in a tropical climate that was dusty, muddy, humid, hot, and at times rainy? I got a variety of responses from my informants; the responses suggest differing levels of meaning. Apparently, the anglo American missionaries also wore elegant white suits, and someone said that the missionaries provided a model for sartorial elegance. But most said that it's probably reflective of Spanish colonial influence; white dress style was associated with Spanish aristocracy and colonial class distinction. Spanish masters often wore white. Another explanation is that white is a sign of professionalism, associated with white collar, office work. Still others explained that wearing white stood for purity and holiness, and was therefore most appropriate for wearing on the Sabbath.
There were class divisions in pre-WW II PUC, and perhaps most were from humble socio-economic backgrounds. Yet even if one was poor and had only two pairs of clothes, one pair would be a white suit for Sabbath wear. Imagine the ambience created by a whole community of believers forming a sea of white on the Sabbath. My Dad came from a poor family and was a working student. He was a self-supporting student who worked at the wood products factory. I'm sure there were many other young men like him, of humble origins, who wore Sabbath white suits. While at work they were sweaty and dirty, looking much like laboring class. Once they wore their white suits, however, they subverted conventional class distinctions by altering their persona and dressing like aristocrats even for a day.
At any rate, de hilos and other white suit fabrics appear to have waned in popularity by the end of the 1950s. If you were to leaf through Balintawak Memoirs of the early sixties, you'll notice that wearing dark suits was becoming the norm among men. What caused the change in fashion and style? I think the quickening pace of life triggered by larger social and economic currents led to the invention of fabrics that were easier to maintain. The de hilo and other types of white suits required more maintenance time. The wearer had to starch and bleach these clothes in order to maintain their whiteness. The coming of "wash and wear" fabrics like nylon and polyester seemed to have brought an end to the era of immaculate white fashioned elegance more suited to slower pace of life. Then too, the barong tagalog was gaining more popularity as formal wear, riding on a wave of nationalism that was sweeping the Philippines.
(Speaker's note: In conclusion, I ad libbed a summarizing statement that recapitulated the need to gain a sense of history and appreciation of culture; this would be the best way to honor the memory of Ban Alsaybar and lay the foundation for a new generation of Christian Adventist leadership for the 21st century.)
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