Reynan Dal-Anay: My Kaamulan Festival surprise

MANILA, Philippines – We were hopelessly running late contrary to our detailed itinerary, as meticulously prepared by our able and amiable tour escort-guide Decius “Yoyong” Esmedalla of the Department of Tourism Region X. And believe it or not, there was absolutely no traffic to blame at all.

The unsuspecting culprit was the Kaamulan Street Dancing Parade along Calle Fortich in Malaybalay, Bukidnon, where alongside, we were happily glued (read: nailed) to our comfortable seats as we witnessed and marveled till the very last group composed of several tribal elders, with their solicitous descendants — some three generations down the revered family tree — accompanied by their all-within-the-clan music-makers, playing their seldom-seen, homemade, close-to-nature instruments.

As in every annual fiesta through the years, all paths eventually lead to the Provincial Capitol Grounds, a gigantic patch of lush green grass, certainly bigger than several football fields side by side, for the much-anticipated highlight of the month-long festivities. It is the pride-of-place presentations of rituals and customs, beats and sounds, chants and music, movements and dances, as performed by the strong-in-number contingents, spearheaded by the mountain tribes, such as the Higaunon, Manobo, Umayamnon, Matigsalud and Bukidnon residing in the two cities of the province, namely Malaybalay and Valencia, and six participating municipalities, to include Kitaotan, Malitbog, San Carlos, Maramag, Manolo Fortich and Cabanglasan.

Upon arrival, we were warmly greeted, as old family friends often do, by the legendary Gov. Joe Zubiri, who quickly ushered my sister, Honey, and I to two empty front seats on stage.

Seated beside us was a boy, rather small in build, who I guessed could not be over 10 years in age. He was dressed in fittingly-appropriate tribal attire, predominantly in bright red with geometric designs accentuated in white.

“Good morning,” he cheerfully chirped. We immediately acknowledged the greeting and I thought to myself, “He must have been the token child who had sang earlier the Pambansang Awit, which we narrowly missed.”

One by one, as the spirited competitors continued to mesmerize the crowd with their performances of traditional dances and music, the kid continuously swooned. His interjections to the routines were hardly audible, but I could not help but notice whenever his eyes glared due to the on-going hoopla.

When the first few presentations ended, the youngster — as if on cue — introduced himself. “My name is Reynan,” said the modest boy whose identity has intrigued me.

As we chatted in-between production numbers, he inquired if we were foreign visitors. “Oh no, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m from Cebu,” I replied. He suddenly flashed a bright smile, and proudly proclaimed — in Cebuano this time around — that he is from the Tigwahanon — Manobo tribes from Kibongkog, a small barangay surrounded by verdant mountains, rolling hills and towering forests in the Municipality of San Fernando.

In the short breaks that followed, he shared more about his family. His father, Sammy, and mother, Ebing, work together as camote farmers, and he is the eldest of six siblings: Five boys and one girl.

A man named Jeffrey Mambukon, whom he fondly calls kuya — a distant cousin of his father — approached us and asked his ward to warm up in preparation for his number. “Oh, I see, we will get a lucky chance to hear him sing after all,” I told myself.

Reynan quickly and quietly loosened up as he shyly massaged his cheekbones, vocalizing by humming tunes at a low voice, with no fuss at all.

At the end of the ethnic carnival, he confidently took the stage — front and center — in his own charming way. The attendees screamed and shouted, and instantly crossed the now empty grounds-sans-performers and rushed closest to where we were to obtain the best spots armed with cameras, ready for selfies and, otherwise, in hopes to hear Reynan perform, up-close and personal.

 However, after he belted out the first few notes of his rendition of Lea Salonga’s classic Tagumpay Nating Lahat, everyone hushed to a complete silence.

The youthful singer then burst into song another Filipino classic: Asin’s Itanong Mo Sa Mga Bata. Once again, the whole party immediately fell silent, but this time, a sea of hands swayed to the cadence of the ballad.

The audience erupted into more applause and wild whistles as he ended his song, and much to my expectations, droves of spectators requested encores, which he willingly obliged.

Meanwhile, we were simply astounded over his natural and forceful vocal prowess to say the least.

As he returned and claimed his seat beside us, I extended my hand and offered him my congratulations.

What happened next took us by surprise: Reynan wrapped my sister and I in endearing hugs.

I soon learned that Reynan – for we apparently lived under the proverbial rock — was the overall runner-up in The Voice Kids Philippines.

“I started singing when I was four years old,” he imparted. “My dad and I used to roam around Cagayan de Oro City to sing Christmas carols during the holidays,” he added in Cebuano.

All too quickly, Reynan, led by Jeffrey, disappeared from the grandstand to escape the mass frenzy. As we left the once festive grounds, we were reminded of Reynan’s warm and unexpected embrace. The boy wonder absolutely took us by surprise in more ways than one. We wish you more than just luck!

(Additional photos by Rommel Natanauan)