Things I learned at the Mutya ng Nasipit (Agusan del Norte) pageant night?
MANILA, Philippines - On the eve of the annual feast of our town patron, San Miguel, under the high and uninsulated GI roofing of the municipal’s boney covered courts, English was the preferred medium of communication. The night promised to be a night of “beauty, glamor, and fanfare” as 11 of the town’s most promising bachelorettes were set to strut the stage and dazzle the overeager, 1,700-strong audience. It was a shame that there were no TV networks present to televise the Mutya ng Nasipit (Agusan del Norte) Pageant Night. Our town would have made the Binibining Pilipinas look downright amateur.
The Mutya ng Nasipit was all the hype of September as tarpaulins of the 11 contestants in modest swimwear were put up at the town plaza, at the town’s main entrance, and at the town’s covered court weeks before pageant night. A photo and video shoot was held at the neighboring town’s beach resort, the region’s closest-thing-to-a-Boracay (with a Boracay-sounding name, too). The candidates had to pose in front of the camera (in high definition), do a “look out into the sea” shot, do an “I’m thinking of you so I’m squinting my eyes while posing a sensual pose” panning shot, and of course, do an energetic group shot as 2014’s batch of cheerful aspirants. All these while their parents sat around for the obligatory interview, made to answer questions with lines like, “I am proud of my daughter,” and “I wish her all the luck in the world.” Standing in high heels, flanked by their fathers on their right hand sides, the contestants made their otherwise confident dads look like healthy traveling gnomes, smiling incomprehensible smiles for the camera and for all of us to see.
But it wasn’t all fun and games. At stake was P 20,000 (or at least, it was advertised), bragging rights, and the honor of representing our town in the upcoming regionals. At that point, there was no telling where the road would lead. Last year’s winner now resides in Canada.
In the once-industrial-but-now-sleepy town of Nasipit, an event that broke monotony this much required a powerful search light to grace the covered court’s gravel entrance. The LED screen (an infrastructural project of a past mayor, once placed in an obscure position at a small park) was rigged high up at the center of the court’s south wall. Two LCD projectors, likewise, flashed onto cloth screens just below the LED screen. The three screens were simultaneously showing the same decorated stage which lay right underneath them. All in all, it produced an odd, whirling kaleidoscope effect of sorts.
From outside, people who refused to pay the P 50 entrance floundered around the streets, peeking through the cracks and holes that the nine-foot-tall, rusting GI sheet fence had. Police and military men roved around the perimeter. On a regular day, the town only had four men from the PNP assigned to it. That night, however, the covered court had six times that number. The governor, the mayor, and their respective families were all present. For the local police of one of the country’s poorest regions, this must have been some kind of code red for them.
SQUEALING, CHEERING, CLAPPING
When the contestants finally came out, there was squealing, cheering, and clapping the likes of those heard in noontime shows. One would think it was choreographed, except there were no stage directors in sight. Either this crowd had learned to do the job from watching TV, or the same TV audience was imported for the event. Considering how far the organizers have gone, the latter was not an impossibility.
But amid my making light of things, it cannot be discounted that the 11 contestants possessed a beauty of their own kind. This year’s favorites were contestant no. 1, Wahini Begin, and contestant no. 10, Michelle Latada. Wahini is of mixed nationality while Michelle is the younger sister of our Mutya ng Nasipit 2004 winner.
However, much to the crowd’s disappointment, things proceeded smoothly throughout the event—there were no slips or falls that would please everyone’s sense of schadenfreude. (Well, it was a beauty contest; naturally, people were on the lookout for some imperfection.) And for the men who were anticipating a steamy swimsuit portion, bright green cloths that were barely see-through were draped over each of the contestants’ head, covering them from the top of their heads to their ankles, as they came out on stage. Before the ladies walked across the runway, the veils on their faces were removed, leaving them in a green “toga” (or mosquito net) with only their right shoulders and part of the swimsuit showing. Except for the contestants’ respective fans, the crowd was mum throughout the swimsuit portion. It was the night’s most solemn 15 minutes—Viva San Miguel!
PREMIUM ENTERTAINMENT
Ken Punzalan (top 12 finalist for GMA’s StarStruck 2004) was the pageant’s “premium entertainment.” He teased the crowd by teasing the contestants, holding their hands and basically intruding into their personal space. Ultimately, he teased everyone with his singing that teased the notes he was supposed to sing — he was always almost in tune and never quite in tune. But it was not a problem. The crowd, boys and girls, men and women, all squealed louder and louder as he went closer and closer to the covered court’s far end. Never mind his singing, this guy was seen on TV 10 years ago!
The night’s biggest winner, nonetheless, was Governor Angel Amante (of the long and proud line of Amantes of Caraga) who gave a dashing memorized speech. “Because Nasipit is the bastion of beautiful women, we are planning to set next year’s Mutya ng Agusan in this very town!” she said to a very receptive crowd which answered with loud clapping. “Best of all, we are inviting Bigtime artistas and making it free for everyone!” The crowd welcomed this with deafening cheers, stomping their feet on the metal bleachers while people outside banged on the GI sheets. Regardless of it being true or not, it was a surefire way to a re-election. Who knows, she might have repeated the same lines in every beauty pageant in the region. At that point, I just wondered how Mr. Top 12 StarStruck 2004 Finalist must have felt.
People (or perhaps, many of the other contestants’ supporters) started leaving the covered courts when it became apparent that the angel-faced Michelle Latada would win. She bagged most of the smaller prizes from sponsors (the crowd reacted each time the sponsor gave her a polite, congratulatory kiss on the cheek) and many no longer found the thrill in staying for the results. It was just as they had predicted, and many were quickly disenchanted. Much to the would-be delight of radical feminists, in an attempt to rescue the audience already heading for the exit, the Mutya ng Nasipit 2013’s turnover video speech (sent all the way from Canada) was cut short just as she was saying “I have always thought that beauty pageants were meant for the tall, fair, and beautiful ladies but—“
A beauty pageant in the provincial areas of the Philippines is riddled with contradiction. On one hand, there’s the glaring imitation of mass media values and hegemonic political string-pulling, on the other, there’s the down-to-earth sincerity of the onlookers and participants themselves, and still, on a third, phantom hand, some fluid consciousness that admits to the innocent fun in beauty pageants and its overall unimportance in the course of town affairs. It was an event that proved Dickens’ city-mouse, country-mouse dichotomy outdated—subversion is well and alive in the provinces. Boy, how the next day’s fight-to-the-death, annual fiesta boxing tournament paled in comparison.
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