PREVIEW magazine - The Right to Dance
THE RIGHT TO DANCE
By Bobby Caingles
(Preview Magazine, Jan 1996)
All men are born with certain inalienable rights. . . . the right to Life, the right to
Liberty, the right to Dance.
Ask Dennis Balan (deaf dancer) if this is a reasonable proposition and he’s likely
to show you how dance has given him a musicality that he could never hear. Ask
Ellen Saplagio (mother of a special child), and she’ll probably tell you that it
would have been a crime if her child had been deprived of this wonderful therapy.
Ask Erwin Buragay (a streetkid) and he’ll probably tell you how dance has given
him an ambition and something to hope for.
It’s hard for us who have music and dance at our everyday disposal to
understand what the hullabaloo is all about. But the real circumstances of life are
such that sometimes, some people, because of their position in life, their physical
traits, or mental incapacity, are scratched off our “guest lists to the dance.”
We would much more so exclude them from the world of ballet, which seemingly
has an air of exclusivity roundabout it, and has given us all the impression that it
is an art for reserved exclusively for the exceptionally rich, the physically perfect,
and the mentally avant-garde.
WITH OR WITHOUT MUSIC
Dennis Balan, Mary Grace Monding and Myra Medrana are three very special
students of Philippine Ballet Theatre Conservatoire principal Lisa dela FuenteCastaneda. As they rehears, you can see them paying rapt attention to Lisa’s
lips and using peripheral vision to set themselves in time with their co-dancers.
Dennis, Mary Grace, and Myra are deaf.
“Nagsimula si Dennis magka-interest sa sayaw noong nine years old pa lamang
siya. Nagpa-participate siya noon sa productions ng Philippine Association for
the Deaf (PAD),” says Dennis’ mother, Mrs. Ofelia Balan. She cannot explain
how somebody like Dennis, who’s deaf, could possibly have become interested
in dance which, to us “ordinary” people, is usually accompanied by music—a
“luxury” these people do not have. “Siguro, sa panonood niya lang ng mga
sayaw, nakikita niya ‘yung ganda ng pagkilos. . . . “ she proposes.
But fall in love with dance, Dennis did. And at seventeen years old, he was
taking dancing very seriously and was starting to dance for more and more
school presentations at PAD. In just a short span of time, his interest brought
him into the presence of ballet’s “greats” like Nonoy Froilan as he performed with
Dennis and other hearing-impaired kids in Sarimanok—a folk-ballet presented
initially at the Cultural Center of the Philippines and later on at the 3rd
International Abilympics (Olympics for the handicapped) in Hong Kong.
“Sa tingin ko, nakatulong ng malaki kay Dennis ang involvement niya sa dance,”
Mrs. Balan comments. “Dati, medyo mahiyain siya. . . pero magmula noong mainvolve siya sa sayaw at marami siyang nakakahalubilong mga ‘hearing’ na tao,
parang nakakalimutan niya ang handicap niya,” she says.
This summer, Dennis, together with Mry Grace and Myra, took a Ballet Workshop
at the Philippine Ballet Theatre Conservatoire in preparation for a performance in
Europe this June with the Earth Savers Movement of Ms. Cecille GuidoteAlvarez. He got more than just a workshop and was taken in as a scholar of the
conservatoire, where Lisa dela fuente Castaneda is Principal.
It was good that by the time the deaf students came into Liza’s class, she had
already developed a ‘sign language’ of sorts that all her students are familiar
with. “There were some seasons that I taught without a voice. So I had to do
this (she motions using her arms to represent her legs)—and they got it naman.
Na-develop out of necessity lang,” she says. But she still had to adjust her
methods somewhat to reach out to her special students. “I’m learning to do sign
language because they can’t hear the music and they have to start [dancing]
exactly with my other kids,” she shares.
Lisa candidly assesses her special student’s prospects in the world of ballet—“As
professional ballet dancers, mahihirapan sila because they can’t hear the music.
. . . Ultimately, you’ll be working as a group or with a partner. Kung hindi mo
naririnig ang music, paano ‘yon? Unless it’s a ‘special’ [dance] company. . . . I
notice this because at the barres, they still do okay, but when I let them gallop
around the room, they start to be out of tempo with the music and the rest of the
students,” she says.
Some “specialized” dance tutors, however, are familiar with the special
requirements of working with deaf students. Mrs. Balan shared with us that in
Dennis’ dance appearances, they had somebody—an interpreter—who would
“translate” the music, as it were, into sign language so that the deaf dancers
would know when to come in, when to commence, when to stop. This was why
they didn’t have any problem.
“Siguro ang pinapakita lang nito—sabi nga nila, e—‘Music is in the soul.’ Wala
sa pandinig lang. Kaya kahit hindi nila marinig sa labas, sa loob naman, naroon
ang musika. Kaya sila nakakasayaw,” the doting mother concludes.
DANCE AS THERAPY FOR THE MIND
Ida Beltran-Lucila has found it to be her calling of sorts to attend to your not-sotypical ballet students, students of the most difficult kind, in fact: special kids—
with impairments ranging from Down’s Syndrome, Turner’s Syndrome, to autism.
What has brought this former Ballet Philippines Soloist into this not-s—usual
calling that only she, so far, among dance professionals, has responded to? “I
was already reading about dance therapy in dance magazines prior to taking up
my Master’s in Special Education and became curious about it—kasi this has
been in the States since 1996 pa. E, Jojo (her husband) has a niece who’s
mildly mentally retarded. . . . I tried it with her and ang bilis ng progress!” she
narrates. “Nangangapa pa lang ako noon and was basing my methods on my
readings and on my own ‘ideas’ lang. And yet I was getting good results and
even the parents were so happy about it. So I said, ‘Why not?’ and I started
going around looking for workshops of this kind and I saw that they had a
Master’s degree on Education at U.P. That was in 1993,” she recalls.
Also that year, Ida launched into virtually uncharted waters, locally, and started
her own dance program for special children—which she dubbed “Special Steps.”
Her own Chameleon Dance Studio along West Avenue became a therapeutic
clinic of sorts as parents started bringing their children in for one-on-one
sessions.
“Iba-iba ang cases nila when they come in, e. . . . May ‘drooped,’ ‘bent,’ they
could not walk straight. . . . and ipit na ipit ang galaw nila,” she says. “You give
them relaxation exercises first, then [lessons on] body awareness. . . .”
“Kasi sa studio—they’re there—[but] they see their body in the mirror. Yung
body parts nila, minsan hindi pa nila alam. So it starts out always—I have to
‘place’ them, their bodies—talagang hahawakan mo—ilalagay mo in a certain
position. Finally, you can just tell them ‘put your hands on your waist.’”
“Like there was this girl, talagang ‘gawky’ siya. . . pero after a while—two months
an once-a-week sessions—dalaga na siya! For instance, in-between exercises,
she would stop and then she’ll fix herself in front of the mirror—nagiging ‘aware’
na siya of how she looks,” the teacher relates.
“From body awareness, you take them to ego, to self-concept. . . and then from
there, to relating with others,” Ida continues. “But the main thing is that you earn
the trust of your student. That’s the big difference when you’re dealing with
special kids.”
A year later, in 1994, her program was adopted by the Department of Education,
Culture, and Sports (DECS) and she was invited to teach during PE time at
public schools with facilities for special children like P. Burgos and P. Gomez
Elementary Schools.
The teachers at P. Gomez were full of praises for the work of Ida and noted the
marked improvements in their special students. The school administration
proposed that Ida conduct a teacher’s training on dance therapy. “Kaya lang
mahirap, e,” Ida says. “Because if you want to be a dance therapist, you have to
have a very good background in dance—most school teachers to not have this,”
she says.
And although the country is not wanting in dancers, what are lacking are qualified
instructors who feel a special burden for these kids. “You really have to pay high
for people to go into this field kasi it takes a lot of patience,” says Ida. She has
gotten several refusals from friends who otherwise would have been qualified to
teach special children.
Ida’s work with the public schools was funded by the National commission for
Culture and the Arts (NCCA) and was at no cost whatsoever to the Department
of Education, Culture, and sports. “I was doing it primarily because of my theses,
but to make dance therapy an ongoing curriculum in public schools, I would need
a a really good funding program,” says Ida who hopes to be able to continue
what she’s doing with the continued support of the NCCA. Although Ida is Vice
Chairman of the NCCA, she says that even though the project is very close to
her heart, the proper thing to do would be for her to exclude herself from the
voting on this project proposal.
In just a little over a year, Ida has already handled fifty-four dance therapy cases
involving special children. But she hesitates to take all the credit for her wards’
progress. “I cannot say that their progress was all due to me because they have
other therapies also,” she says.
But the mother of Jessica, Mrs. Ellen Saplagio, would contend otherwise—and
directly attributes Jessica’s improvements in posture and movement to Ida’s
dance therapy. “I would watch Ida and her during the therapy from time to time. .
. When she started, ang concentration niya was just ten minutes. Now, one and
a half hours na!,” she says.
“If there were no dance therapy, I would have had to look for another outlet for
my [special] child. Kasi, they can’t be productive in Math or in academics naman.
. . In dance, I believe Jessica is being very productive. Society offers very few
choices for Jessica and children like her,” says Mrs. Saplagio who also teaches
at the St. Joseph of Cupertino School for Special Children.
THE DANCE OF THE MASSES
Thirty-five kids from twelve to eighteen are rehearsing in front of a full-length
mirror, each intent on perfecting his/her dance technique, approaching each step
with professionalism and determination as they obey their Ballet Master’s voice.
This would have been an ordinary scene in any ballet studio, except that this
particular dance group is composed of street children from different halfway
houses in the city.
Joy Coronel, back from a successful dance career in New York, meanwhile,
recently put up DANCERS, Inc. whose initial production involves the
participation of some thirty-five street children in a contemporary ballet
production.
“I thought—what can I do to thank the Lord for my blessings? Through dance.
So I said—I wanna teach street children. Why street children? Because my
children are so fortunate—they have so much love and everything while these
kids have nothing,” the former principal dancer of Ballet Philippines said.
What happened in the next few weeks was that Joy coordinated with the Cubao
Council for the Protection of Street Children (CCPSC) and selected ballet
scholars from among its wards. She also got the support of Stella Maris
college’s directress, Ms. Carlotta Ferraz, who gave the slowly-growing group free
use of its dance facilities. The group also obtained the support of the National
commission for Culture and the Arts for its maiden presentation and the world
premiere of an all-Filipino original, Muro-Ami—which depicts the exploitation of
children in the fishing industry—staged at the CCP’s Tanghalang Nicanor
Abelardo in July. For Christmas, the group promises to put meaning into the
celebrations of donor-corporations and families through a 45-minute production
by the streetkids.
On the other side of Quezon City, meanwhile, the Quezon City Performing Arts
Studio is doing not so bad—with its own dance studio facilities at the Amoranto
Stadium, providing transportation allowance for its scholars, free dance uniforms,
and a significant P2,000,000 budget per year. This is because the program,
which is the brainchild of Philippine Ballet Theatre Artistic Council members Tony
Fabella and Eddie Elejar, have found a sympathetic supporter in no less than
Quezon City Mayor Mel Mathay. “The kids are auditioned from the city’s public
schools. Those who show potential and whose parents earn less than P60,000
annually are the eligible scholars,” says Ms. Melissa Macapanpan, Program
Executive Director.
“The basic assumption of the program is that the poor cannot afford these things.
And yet it is not fair to deprive them of enjoyment of the arts simply because
they’re poor; because art is for everybody,” says Mr. Fabella.
Both of these programs—“Dance of Hope for the Needy and the Sick” of
DANCERS, Inc. and the Quezon City Performing Arts Studio under the Office of
Mayor Mathay have had the privilege of dreaming with these kids and helping
them achieve what they can be. And the reward of seeing very promising
results.
Erwin is fifteen years old, originally from Zambales and now a ward at the KUYA
Drop-In Center in Cubao which is also under the CCPSC. He was among those
selected by DANCERS, Inc. last November to be a dance scholar. I was
particularly impressed by an answer Erwin gave.
This writer is familiar with several cases where streetkids who were taken off the
streets by a well-meaning non-governmental or church group would just return to
the streets a few months later, resenting the “strict rules” being imposed in the
halfway-house. So I asked him why they have stayed on with the drop-in center
and have not left together with some of their friends. Giving an immediate
answer and looking at me with eyes of determination, he said, “Ayaw po naming
masira ang pangarap namin.” “Ano naman ang pangarap niyo?” I asked.
“Maging dancer po,” Erwin and Edward, another child from Tondo, chimed in
unison.
THE LANGUAGE OF DANCE
What is it in dance that makes it an intrinsic part of every culture ever discovered
on the face of the earth. It’s as if it were as vital to the expression of a people as
language itself. And perhaps it is. We end with these words from Ida Beltran—
“Dance is one of the most natural movements of a human being. It is a form of
expression. Dance is a sign of life exuding through the body—which is why it is
so exciting to see and to do. . . .The smallest children will bounce and sway to
music. . . .”
Unlike the language of the tongue, dance is impartial and speaks its meaning
without prejudice to race, age, or physical attributes. It is, perhaps, more closely
than any other form of art, the Language of the Soul.