An Mga Voyador: Faith, Love, Time, and ‘Pay Wantik

By Doods M. Santos

If locals and tourists were to ask me about what to see next time they come around for the Peñafrancia festivities, it would not be the endless parades and processions, and especially not that purveyor of superficiality and sexual objectification masked as a pageant.

It would be the one-act play “An Mga Voyador,” written by Gene Rey Francisco and directed by Jobert Grey Landeza.

I confess that the play’s title did not attract me. Another take on the barefoot male devotees who tow the raft of Ina during the fluvial procession, I figured. Yet I went out of my way to watch it last Sept 5, 2026 at the Garden Café Glass House in Naga because I had missed the touted VLF Bikol plays and IbalongZ in Legazpi. It was also to support sponsors Sangre de Naga Theatre Company and the Naga City Arts and Culture Coalition, Inc.’s Theater subsector.

An elevated three-sided, or thrust stage, with a stylized baroto, boat-painting paraphernalia, and a painting on a tall shelf served as backdrop-cum-back stage. A happy and gregarious group met at Pay Wantik’s (Gy Hallare) digs to assemble a team of voyadores to join the fluvial procession for Ina. The arrival of Edgar (Ronel Madrilejos) raises the question of who deserves to join them as devotees.

From voyador leader Pay Wantik’s moving rendition of Resuene Vibrante through the rising action, climax, denouement, to the end, the audience was engaged, heart and mind. Tissues appeared, not surreptitiously, during the many moving lines. What a perfect text for those who study Paul Ricoeur, with its themes of hospitality, forgiveness, and justice, I thought. “An Mga Voyador” was not only about a religious ritual after all, but a reflection on disillusionment, forgiveness, and acceptance, especially of one’s self, as well as a contemplation on the space provided by church and community to all.

The convention of the unities of time and place in a one-act play were in order. The action brought in essential socio-political commentary to ground the piece in community: alcohol’s place in a religious festival, poverty and migration, the drug war, humanitarian justice, and cancel culture.

While Francisco’s original script was the kernel of the piece, the director’s vision, the actors’ input, and community research clearly enriched it.

The two most compelling elements that drove the theme were the cast and the music.

The strains from the Resuene and especially its reprise in Bikol was a meaningful postcolonial comment on linguistic hospitality. A short cultural critique could be written about this alone.

The cast delivered their lines well; no fumbling, no dead air. The dialogue was fast-paced and punchy. The actors were in synch, like a team rowing in tandem in one direction. Crisp earthy Bikol words including typical expletives for when Bikol men gather were bandied about; the director gave an early trigger warning about this.

Hallare played Pay Wantik convincingly and superbly; anyone would be eager to join his team, although his past gave me the shivers. Madrilejos gave Edgar’s wretchedness a sympathetic twist even for the reluctant. It was interesting to learn that John Carlo Ocaya, who was credible as a migrant worker, had no prior acting experience.

The voice of the sacristan Divino (Mark Eduardo Cea) was a bit low in contrast to those of the others, especially the choleric almost manic Pelipe (John Nehemiah Lopez). But Pelipe’s rage resonated, as it is an emotion we often feel in our chaotic present. Divino’s relatively quiet voice alludes to the youth’s tendency to silence in the presence of his seniors. And how newness, hope, and spiritual conviction enter softly, like Dr. Lazaro’s son who quietly baptized a dying baby to comfort its parents in Greg Brillantes’s 1960s story “Faith, Love, Time, and Dr. Lazaro.”

An Mga Voyador was shown in too small a venue, to middle class paying patrons, perhaps because of the organizers’ limited time and resources. With more time, the LGU and the Church, or schools for example, with all their resources, could have provided a bigger space and even helped subsidize production cost so that more among the grassroots and youth could watch it. There should be a special show for government officials as well. The bigger dream is for this play to be shown at the BJMP, since a portion of the play’s proceeds would be given to rehabilitation programs for Persons Deprived of Liberty.

This is a play that should be staged and patronized every year, and not only during Ina’s feast. Perhaps next year, and in the years to come, Naga City?