The Charice I know
I don’t know if Oprah will find the interview of her crew with me useful to her show. Talk is rife that the baptism and confirmation of Charice and her brother Coycoy will be aired on Oprah in June. The crew that O sent interviewed a number of people, mostly sponsors of Cha and Coycoy, including me.
“State your name and affiliation for ID, please,” said the American guy from Oprah.
“Büm Tenorio, journalist, Philippine Star,” I said. “Oh, for correct spelling, here’s my card,” I added as I got a business card from my wallet. The camerawoman panned to the card.
“How well do you know Charice?” asked the guy, his face a canvas of perspiration. The air-conditioning at the baptistery of the Pasig Cathedral was in full blast yet it was still warm. Perhaps because many stars were there.
The question of the interviewer was simple yet it culled from me 11 years of beautiful memories that I have so far shared with Charice. For at least 10 to 15 minutes, I was talking to the interviewer. Here’s what I remember telling him:
“I have known Charice since she was seven. That was the time she joined an amateur singing contest in Gulod, a sleepy barrio in the town of Cabuyao, Laguna, about one hour and 30 minutes away from the city.
“She sang Isang Lahi, in English, One Race. There were 32 contestants, Cha was the youngest, the smallest but she had the biggest voice. The contest started at 7 p.m. and finished at 2 a.m. the following day. She was proclaimed the champion. Well, she had always been the champion of amateur singing contests held in every town that celebrated fiesta.
“I approached her backstage. She was diminutive but cute in her pony-tailed hair. I pinched her cheeks as I told her: ‘I’m sure, one day, you will become big.’ She just smiled.
“The next thing I knew, Cha, her mother Raquel and brother Carl — he’s actually known as Coycoy in our neighborhood in Gulod — transferred to our community. The day they transferred in their apartment, they barely had anything. They only had a sofa and a stereo component. My brother was their neighbor. My brother lent them a banig, a woven mat, that they could use to sleep on. Cha and Nikka, the daughter of my brother, became the best of friends. Cha cried with us when Nikka passed away in 2007. She regarded Nikka as her first ever best friend. She condoled with us again when my father passed away last January.
“Oh, am I talking too much?” I asked the interviewer.
“Go on. I’m enjoying your narration,” he assured me. This time, his blue shirt had already been soaked in sweat. I began to loosen the top button of my barong, so I could breathe more air. Charo Santos-Concio, president of ABS-CBN and my seatmate at the binyagan, was so sweet and helpful she cooled us with her fan while the interview was ongoing.
“I would need the whole day to finish my story-telling. The point I’m driving at is that good things happen to good people. You see, everybody knows why Cha is very good in her craft. She told me once that she saw how her mother had problems with her father. Perhaps she coped by singing, by belting out tunes to express her fears and frustrations, even her momentary joys. Oh well, perhaps I’m just editorializing. I may be wrong but, by now, everybody knows what Cha and her mother and brother Carl experienced.
“One day, while I was listening to her rehearse a song, Cha asked me if I could coach her diction and pronunciation. I just commented on how the ‘th’ in ‘this’, ‘that’, ‘those’, ‘think’, ‘thing’ should be pronounced. I also taught her to aspirate the phonemes ‘k’, ‘t’ and ‘d.’ Then we went on to learn the basic subject-verb agreement. Plain and simple. She learned fast.”
“Why are you here? Are you one of the sponsors?” the interviewer asked.
“I’m here because Cha asked me to be here. Raquel asked me to be here. Coycoy asked me to be here. This is a continuation of how we celebrate our lives as friends and family. Cha recognizes that long before she became what she is now, we already had a friendship to celebrate. Cha has remained grounded; despite her fame and fortune now, her feet are still firmly planted on the ground.
“That’s the Cha I know.”
* * *
The night after the binyagan, Cha came home to Gulod to pay her last respects to a lady who helped prepare her food every time she was abroad. She dropped by my house, too, to tell me that she was leaving for Japan to record Japanese songs. Yes, Japanese songs. From Tokyo she would fly to New York, then off to Canada for a concert.
“Ginagawa mo na lamang talagang Quiapo ang America,” I told her. She gave me a hug. Cha is now 18 but she remains a sweet little girl in my eyes.
“Ready na ba ang pagkain mo na babaunin papunta abroad?”
“Ready na po.”
Cha has grown accustomed to bringing her own food whenever she is abroad. She has told me so many times that she (and her mother Raquel) cannot train their palate to like intercontinental food. Their taste buds will always remain Pinoy.
“So, what food will you put in your maleta this time?”
She laughed as she enumerated the following: “Ginataang tambakol, tinapa, galunggong, paksiw na bangus, sinaing na tulingan. May dala rin po kaming bigas. May dala rin po kaming rice cooker. Sa Japan o sa New York na lang po kami mag-sasaing.”
She will get her refill when she comes home again.
That’s the Cha I know.
(For your new beginnings, please e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com or my.new.beginnings@gmail.com. You may want to follow me at www.twitter.com/bum_tenorio. Have a blessed Sunday!)
