The Auctioneer-the official blog of Auction.ph

I was asked to write a piece for Francis Magalona. It set off a series of reactions that started with absolute befuddlement. I had no idea what to write about. After a brief period, befuddlement became extreme resistance. Of course I could write something but given the circumstances, anything I write can be easily misconstrued as something opportunistic. I did some research hoping that some kind of angle will present itself in the process. After reading news reports and after visiting Francis Magalona’s blog, the resistance became softer, a bit more malleable. And after affording a voyeuristic peek into his life beyond the tube, I felt a strange connection, a sense of vicariousness maybe, with the celebrity because his life is exactly the charmed life I have always wished for. In that sense, he became a representation, an ideal of how I can still shape the days that lie ahead.

And then I remembered what he was like when I was growing up. And it was at this point that resistance faded and I became consumed with composing a skewed tribute from the point-of-view of an outsider.

The night after Francis Magalona died, my cousin sent me a message and he said that he wrote a sentimental song about the Master Rapper. My cousin lives in the province, operates a store but his real passion is music. His god is Kurt Cobain. Given this context, it was only logical to ask him why. He could not explain it also. He was just suddenly moved.

More than twenty years ago, I remember watching Francis Magalona in the camp classic, Ninja Kids. I think it was the second local movie I watched. The first one was Bagets. At that time, I had dreams of becoming an astronaut or becoming the leader of an elite unit of pilots whose vehicles merged into one kick-ass robot. Even before seeing Ninja Kids, I long fantasized about choosing “ninja assassin” for a full-time profession. After seeing Francis Magalona in Ninja Kids, I realized he was on to something. I was convinced that being a “ninja assassin” just won’t cut it anymore. I had to be a “break dancing ninja assassin” only because it was ‘modern’ and way cooler.

I also remember Francis Magalona in the Royal Tru-Orange commercials singing Mga Kababayan Ko. He wore garishly-colored, oversized baggy pants and a sharply, sculpted flat-top that can easily balance cans of beer (or orange soda). He was rapping with all his might calling on his countrymen to enjoy orange soda. I’m not sure if sales picked-up but the rap song sure did. It was imitated by kids in all corners and you can hear the chant in school corridors everywhere. The cool thing about it was, Francis Magalona wasn’t really selling orange soda, he was selling patriotism. And he continued to do so with unparalleled vigor until his final days.

More than a decade ago, I remember Francis Magalona in Greenhills buying stacks of Playstation CDs. At that time, my friends and I were huddled over consoles for rent and opening virtual cans of whoop-ass playing Tekken. We were students back then and for us dispensable income was a fairy-tale concept. Back then, Francis Magalona was buying stacks of video games and enjoying hours of playing time in domestic comfort. I remember thinking, ‘wow, this guy is really sucking the marrow out of life.’ I skipped a lot of classes when I was in college and spent hours at home playing Warcraft and Diablo. It’s not exemplary behavior but those were happy days. And in that sense, I’d like to think that Francis Magalona had endless chains of happy days.

Yesterday, I skimmed over Francis Magalona’s blog and I read blogs about how proud he was of his son. He showed off his son’s paintings, which were in fact, brilliant works of pop art. More than twenty years ago, I remember my elder sister cooing over Pancho Magalona’s gentleman suave in ‘deadtime’ television. (We referred to the weekday 2 – 5 pm slot as deadtime television because nothing worth watching was on except for old classics of…Yes, it’s a double entendre.) Pancho Magalona was Francis’s celebrity father. I vaguely remember Francis expressing his admiration for his father and I remember thinking his father would have offhandedly reciprocated the sentiment. He had every reason to be proud of Francis like Francis has every reason to be proud of his son. I’d like to remember this legacy of mutual admiration and enormous talent surviving Francis Magalona.

Francis Magalano was a fierce patriot, a truly talented artist and a loving father and husband. While our country endures this significant loss, this country can do a little bit better if everyone remembers Francis Magalona as a shining example.

I understand now why my cousin wrote a song for Francis Magalona. It is the same reason why I am writing this and it is the same reason why millions of other outsiders are in grief.

I am doing this for no other reason but to remember. And hopefully, to never forget.