It had been a balmy day in Puerto Galera and we had just come down from the mountains after a refreshing hike up to the local waterfalls. The snack bell sounded as we set foot back on Stairway’s main campus and all the boys came running down from the basketball court.
We sat around the tables in the courtyard, exchanging stories and savouring our juice and pastries. At the age of 20, these snacks bring me back to my childhood and I continue to enjoy them thoroughly. The day was just beginning but we were all feeling at ease, like coming home to a familiar chair after a long day of work, except today was Sunday, and all we had to do was appreciate it. The sky was blue and the gentle sea breeze blew a windy tune, accompanied by birdsong and the creaks of bamboo.
“Boys! Sa stage tayo!”
“Ano ang gagawin, Kuya Jhonnie?”
“It’s a surprise,” he ends with a smile. And so we flock down to the stage and continue on with our trivial chatter about past Sundays that could have compared to today and debated whether they were or were not as wonderful as this one…
When Johnny arrived, the first thing that caught my attention was his smile. The man was beaming and emitted positivity. He and his assistant were busy at work, setting up and arranging all manners of obscure instruments on a table, mostly of the woodwind variation.
When all was ready, he faced us and held up a tiny wooden tube, no longer than his middle finger. “Can anyone tell me what this is?”
“It’s a flute!” Kenji piped up.
“Correct! But can you tell me what kind of flute it is?” A small ripple of muttering passed through the audience but no one had the answer. “I’ll give you a hint,” he said, “It is played with your nose, and there are only two places in the world where people make nose flutes. Can you guess where?” No answer. “Well, one is Hawaii, and the other is the Philippines,” he smiled. “This particular flute is a ceremonial Hawaiian nose flute. It is actually a very special flute to me.” He proceeded to tell us that the tiny wooden tube in his hands was given to him by his good friend who had been a flute maker and avid participant in traditional Hawaiian ceremonies. He friend had given him this flue before Johnny embarked on his world tour to collect and study world instruments. “This is my best flute”, his friend had told him, “I don’t even know why I’m giving it to you” he had laughed. A month later Johnny’s friend had passed away from a heart attack.
“And that is why this particular flute is special to me and I would like to share a song with you.” It may have looked a bit odd when he placed it up his nostril but the sound that he produced from it made everyone in the room forget if it had looked peculiar or not. He played a most lovely tune so that even the birds perched in the trees quieted down to listen. After he had finished the wordless prayer, the same smile spread across his face and we all cheered. He had had our curiosity but now he had captured our attention.
Johnny went on to demonstrate various flutes from all over the world and I managed to capture some of the songs as a telephone recordings. When he had finished his demonstrations, Johnny bade us all come up to the table and pick a flute for ourselves. These flutes were homemade he told us. His project consisted of travelling from school to school in the United States and having elementary students make flutes, one for themselves and one for their ‘friend abroad’. Each flute was made personal by designs from the children and a note inside of it for whoever happened to pick that particular flute. Mine was silver with yin and yang symbols at both ends. It was made by two boys, Doug and Charlie, aged 11 and 12. In their note they wished me well and hoped I would enjoy this flute they had made for me. In my head I wished them well in return. Johnny proceeded to give all of us an intro lesson in playing the flute, teaching the boys how to position their fingers and the various sounds it made. He taught us all a South African lullaby that mothers would hum to their children which he learned in his travels. Johnny ended off the workshop by playing some “trick fiddle” as he called it, playing ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ behind his back, between his legs and over his head, always plucking the same string for the ‘pop’ part. The boys loved it and I admit to finding it quite entertaining.
Then it was time for Johnny to go and time for him take all of his exotic instruments along with him. We all thanked him greatly for his time and his songs, the boys especially, for they were grateful for the flutes they had received from their friends so far away. He waved goodbye and shook our hands, and as suddenly as he had appeared, he disappeared in the van leaving behind the memory of song and a cloud of smoke. The day was balmy and the sky was blue. The birds sang their songs joined by the creak of the bamboo, only now, the wind’s lullaby was accompanied by ten kids playing different tunes on their new flutes. Thank you Johnny.
Zachery Jorgensen