Shorts: Tribu Buraburon

A single step filled with stories of hardwork, determination and hope.

It feels so surreal. Burst of colors. Bright lights. Laughter and cheers. And you? In it, you will as if you are being sucked in the scenario.

A dreamlike scape.

Ninth Grade. Just in front of the room, an intriguing piece of paper posted on the bulletin board caught everyone’s attention. The Local Government Unit – looking for dancers. Men or women, female or male or any gender, old or young, whoever’s willing to join an old troupe brought back to life. Anyone who’s willing. Anyone with great potential.

Why not give it a try?

Days passed. Attending four sessions of screening, a tough week for everyone. Three hundred screeners were giving it a shot, trying their best-est, setting it as a goal – to pass. Sweat broke through everyone, and of course, the muscle pains. Why did everyone bother? With three hundred in, only a hundred will be chosen.

Back pains. Muscle cramps. Headaches. Late Nights. They endured it.

Four months of training. Rigorous training. Blood, sweat, and tears, wasted. Day by day. Endless days and nights of following the rhythm, moving to every drum beat, our hearts throbbing along. They never stopped. Never resigned. Look into every performer’s eyes – and you see a driven, determined soul that will never plan on quitting. A full body pain? With bright orbs filled with eagerness, smiles in every corner, laughter followed, they remained serene. These generous souls are bonded. United.

Buses and winged vans? Not so comfy, but not a big deal.

Enter the very day. As the atmosphere was filled with excitement, anxiousness was ever present. It made people’s stomach turn upside down. Faces show nervousness. Jaws were clenched. Sighs. As if an old Wiccan chant, nervous. Nervous. Nervous. Nervous.

Onstage? Game-faces on. Dancing until lungs are out of oxygen. Dancing until everyone’s energy was low. Dancing to our heart’s content. Blood pumped as we moved beat by beat, representing our culture.

Oh.

I was really in the scenario. Mid-scene, I realized, it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. My memory. And I was part in this amazing moment. Like a movie, it paused and played. Then rewind. Making jumps to where it began. How I went through. How it opened up a new stage.

The winner was called. It was white noise and television static all over. So that’s why it felt surreal. Everyone from all over the country competed. And we, Tribu Buraburon, was chosen.

Coming home, we brought pride and joy. Making the Burawon proud. All thanks to the efforts and prayers of everyone. I watch the children hold hands and dance about the stage, I recognize in their eyes that we almost lost- hope. The smiles pasted on their innocent faces spell a promise that there will be another battle tomorrow. And that tomorrow will surely be better.

But, the journey never ends.