Ten Questions with Willy Prilles, Jr.

1. I'm from Manila, and untreated sewage creates small pools in front of my house like its their job. Give me three very good reasons why I should move to Naga -- reasons most people don't know about.

One, you'll not really miss Manila, as the city center of Naga is also below sea level (one meter if I'm not mistaken). So small pools also form naturally when the rains come, but they also go away as fast.

Two, small is beautiful. (Just ask Urbano de la Cruz:)) And we have most everything we need.

And three, you don't have to race against the rat to survive, and do well.

2. How's your novel coming along?

I missed the NaNoWriMo by a wide mile, but it was not a forgettable first try. Unlike my principals, I'm a linear person. There's still that one long, long overdue task -- as in six months in the making, frozen by the feeling of incompetence and the all-powerful tendency to procrastinate -- that's been bearing down on me like an albatross. But then God smiled at me yesterday: got another lease on life, and am actually beginning to enjoy working on it.:)

By the 27th, I should be working on that novel again, and hopefully realize my Oscar award-winning anime.:)

My note: Could you possibly be more cryptic?

3. The first five things you'd do when you get to the Senate. Sitting down and adjusting your belt buckle doesn't count.

I've been there actually, standing in, as usual, for my principal in a meeting with Kiko Pangilinan. We actually did not have the chance to sit down at the time.:)

But if I do get a chance to be like Kiko, and not just meet with Kiko, I will

One, pinch my Yoda-like ears hard enough so they will quickly go back to size. Which isn't exactly unfamiliar -- when I woke up the first time as a married guy around 15 years ago, I wondered why there was a woman lying beside me.

Two, give my family and my a parents a tour of the Senate complex -- and take advantage of the opportunity because I never really went around.

Three, get the autograph of Juan Flavier and Joker Arroyo -- two incumbent senators I most admire.

Four, sit through and enjoy my first ever Senate session. And then file a bill authorizing calibrated devolution of basic education (that's elementary and high school, which is my pet advocacy) in communities which are ready for it.

And finally, wake up because it ain't happening -- ever.

My note: I couldn't stop laughing here. It's too Filipino.

4. Tell me something good that came out of all the recent calamities, if there were any.

I'm getting the hang of YouTube.:) The Reming videos I uploaded actually ranked as high as 64th among all News and Blogs (English), and 96th among News and Blogs (all languages) on its first day. Together with the New York Times blog mention, it was definitely not bad.

5. Four really interesting people from Bicol that I've probably never met, and what makes them interesting.

I'll make it four groups of people:

Mayor Jesse Robredo and Eggie Apostol, of course: they're not Ramon Magsaysay awardees for nothing.

Kristian Cordero, Maryanne Moll and Frankie Peñones: the triumvirate -- I think -- that stands at the vanguard of Bikol literature renaissance. Conrad de Quiros need not worry about its future because the future is here.

Mike Padua: the "quiet storm" behind Typhoon2000.ph, and my Exhibit "A" why Naga is ready for globalization. This blogpost has the skinny.

The Prilleses of Pacol: but of course!:)

6. Send me a screenshot of your desktop. Don't change anything!

His desktop.

7. If I ask the Pope, very nicely, to in turn ask all Christians to quit smoking, do you think it will work?

Not in a thousand years. For all its conservatism, the Catholic Church -- like most mainstream christian religion -- is actually too liberal towards its wayward flock. Moreover, it cannot afford to lose many of its faithful. Which, come to think of it, actually emboldens the likes of Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo and her corrupt minions.

On the other hand, smaller denominations -- like Jehovah's Witness (to which I belong), the Iglesia ni Kristo and the Latter-Day Saints (I think) -- can pull it off because they take organizational discipline -- i.e., expelling unrepentant members -- more seriously.


8. Five sentences in Bikolano that everyone should know. Translate, of course.

"Dios mabalos." Literally, "God will repay (you)." It's how we say "Thank you."

"Dios ko! Kaheraki kami." "Lord, have mercy on us." That's what you pray when seeking God's help in the face of the strongest typhoon in history.

"Poropondohi daw kami. Botog 'an!" "Stop it! You're full of hot air!" That's what you say to your congressman most of the time. Level of disgust peaks when he tries to pull off a "Con-Ass" in the middle of the night till the wee hours of the morning while most of Bikol grieves and suffers in the aftermath of a terrible calamity.

"Namomotan taka!" "I love you." Although I strongly doubt if today's youth still use Bikol when they court a girl. I wrote my love letters and poems in English during my time. Today, they'd rather text "I luv u!"

"Luway-luway sana tabi, 'noy." "Slow it down." That's what you say to an overspeeding driver, a bunch of rowdy young men, or mischievous kids before they start to get under your skin.

"Oragon" is commonly associated with Bikolanos, evoking masculinity but I will not advise it. It is vulgar when used in everyday language.

My note: "Con-ass" is probably the worst French expletive out there.

9. Carefully describe the junk in your car. Categorize them amongst you, your wife, and your six kids.

This was tough. I had to every now and then google the car part in mind to get the accurate name.

(a) The glove box contains a Bible and magazines we use during our Sunday worship.

(b) Mine: The driver's glove box contains loads of receipts, mostly for gas and the corresponding Caltex credit card slip. The trunk contains my pair of blue-and-black Puma hi-cut shoes, paper trash containing notes from a meeting at City Hall (which I assume I already dispensed with), a yellow gallon of excess Shell engine oil, and the replaced plastic header of my radiator.

(c) My wife's: Her comb at the console, and the case of pirated MYMP CDs inside the passenger-side glove box.

(d) My daughters': A headband beneath the driver seat, the empty space close to the door. Pieces of hair rubber bands and a pencil beneath the rearwindow. Candy and chocolate wrappers beneath the front seats. A missing slipper.

(e) My sons': One wornout sock.

10. What's your personal take on our medium of instruction? English? Filipino?

Reading skill is everything. And I'm a believer in using the vernacular in preschool and primary grades.

After two years in preschool where their teachers tried English, my eldest daughter Pia finally learned how to read in Bicol at the age of 5 when her mother patiently taught her -- using our religious publications aided by cheap caton-like reader she bought at a local bookstore. When Pia saw the logic of reading syllables they way they are written to comprise every Bikol word, the transition to Tagalog was painless. A little more practice and familiarization with the quirks of English was needed, but it was relatively easier.

I have no problem with using either English or Filipino as one moves up. To be globally competitive, I believe we should bring back Spanish as an optional course because we're missing out on the huge Hispanic market.

Bonus question: When I was eight, we went to the Cagsawa ruins, and I took a piss inside the steeple. Will I burn in hell?

One, there is no such place [as hell]. Two, you're bad!

Many thanks to Willy.

Tags: Willy+Prilles, Nagueno, Philippines, Naga, Filipino