For this child of nine, the temptation was irresistible. As she walked into the room, she saw her mother’s diary lying innocently on the dresser, its silver clasp unlocked. With unbridled curiosity, she took it and hid in a closet. There, she read how her mother negated her own self-expression and lived in complete subservience to her father’s wishes. She read of frustration and pain that she never knew existed.
Disillusioned, she vowed that a desolate existence would never be hers, that she would remain free to be her own person. In this little pocket of reality, the incandescent vision of Armida Ponce-Enrile Siguion-Reyna had its beginnings.
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With the fire of her imagination, she set her sights on becoming a singer and an actress. A diva. Her half-sister, Mercedes Ponce, was a starlet and had made a movie with Rogelio de la Rosa. Her aunt, Carmen Concha, was the first woman director of Philippine movies. Her mother, Purita Liwanag, was a famous singer and a friend of Nicanor Abelardo, the composer of such classics as Bituing Marikit, Kundiman ng Luha andNasaan Ka Irog. She was enchanted to be among celebrities in film and the performing arts.
I’ve always been a free spirit. I wanted to be a singer and an actress, and I pursued my dreams.
Armida was nine when her mother taught her to sing. She particularly loved the songs of Fely Vallejo, the wife of National Artist Gerry de Leon. “I was wonderstruck,” she said in a past interview, “and I learned all her songs, like Habang Buhay, Mariposa and Sa Dating Pugad.”
Growing up in Malabon, she awakened to the sweetness of barrio life. She played with children of fishermen and with those who planted sampaguitaand strung its blossoms into leis. There were no fences between houses, and backyards were lush with fruit trees. There were rice fields all the way to Highway 54, which seemed to her like the distance to eternity.
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Philippine Women’s University graduation recital, 1958 PHOTO: COURTESY OF ARMIDA SIGUION-REYNA
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In that beautifully simple setting, her life was filled with the wonder of the unexpected.
“One afternoon after school,” she recalled, “my father made us all line up in the garage. Beside him was a very thin young man who had just arrived from Cagayan and whom he had met only that morning. This man looked exactly like my father, only darker. My father said to us, ‘This is my son Johnny,’ and to Johnny, ‘These are your brothers and sisters and your mother Purita.’ It happened so quickly, so casually. From then on, Johnny lived with us. He and I hit it off instantly. Dikit naangbuhaynamin.”
Reliving that moment, statesman Juan Ponce-Enrile says, “My father, Alfonso, was Castilian in appearance, dashing and romantic. All my life I wanted to meet him. Finally that morning, I found him in his office. He embraced me and told me to come with him to Malabon.
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“When I met his family, I noticed that Armida was looking at me with great curiosity. Almost at once, we became very close even if she always argued with me. She was a pretty girl and had many suitors. I felt very protective of her. She was strong-willed, argumentative, fiercely committed to her views, but extremely supportive and loyal. We helped each other. What many people don’t know is that she has a very kind heart.”
Armida was an avid reader of local magazines and became proficient in Filipino. But it was the celluloid world that overtook her daydreams.
One gorgeous day a movie was being filmed in the Ponce-Enrile residence. Watching in awe, Armida felt as though a magical drama was unfolding before her. She was mesmerized by every gesture of the director, every movement of the actors and of Patricia Mijares, the star. More than anything, she wanted to be a part of this world.
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“I was asked if I wanted to be an actress, and I said ‘Yes!’ I was thrilled. My heart was thumping! My mother was encouraging. But my father was absolutely against it. He shipped me to a convent school in the United States.”
With surprising aplomb, she approached the director and asked, “Do you think I could have a screen test? I want to see if I can become an actress.” Impressed by her spunk, the director immediately asked the cameraman to give her a test.
Within days, Armida received a call. Was she willing to have another test, this time at the studio of Palaris Films? She gasped in disbelief. Her fantasy seemed so close and so real. She decided to go for it.
“I was asked if I wanted to be an actress, and I said ‘Yes!’ I figured I could do it during school vacations. Afterward, Pepe Gregorio came to tell my parents that Fernando Poe Sr. had seen my screen tests and suggested that I be made a juvenile lead.
“I was thrilled. My heart was thumping! My mother was encouraging. But my father was absolutely against it. He shipped me to a convent school in the United States.”
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Armida did not dream. She dared to make dreams come true.
All of 17 then, she was studying at St. Joseph’s Academy in Brentwood on Long Island, New York, when she discovered the Original Amateur Hour and the Ed Sullivan Show. One day she heard that there would be an audition for an important role in a Rodgers and Hammerstein musical on Broadway. She was intrigued by the challenge. She knew all the Broadway songs and trusted her voice. She would try for it. At the same time, she sensed that the nuns would stop her from going. Lured by the promise of adventure, she decided to escape. She connived with a South American friend whose family had an apartment in New York, and together they slipped out of the campus.
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"I had made a vow when I was nine that I would never marry a man who would not respect my decisions, who would not trust me to make my choices. It may seem selfish on my part, but I also promised not to marry a man whom I loved more than he loved me."
The audition was held in a studio behind Radio City. When Armida’s turn came, she sang an Italian street song with no accompaniment. Then she was made to sing "I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair," which she knew by heart. She was interviewed and asked to come back in two weeks.
I had made a vow when I was nine that I would never marry a man who would not respect my decisions, who would not trust me to make my choices. It may seem selfish on my part, but I also promised not to marry a man whom I loved more than he loved me.
Though high with expectation, she felt that another escapade might not be possible. “This time I knew I needed the consent of the nun who was in charge of me. When I asked for her permission, she was furious. My voice teacher was just as furious and said that I was compromising my operatic aspirations. They wrote my father. I wept for days and days. I was heartbroken. Later I learned that the audition was for the role of Tuptim in The King and I.”
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What appeared as thinly disguised rebellion was a heart and mind that could not be contained.
Upon arriving from the U.S., Armida pursued her singing career with the discipline of ambition. She had recitals in classical music, followed by lead roles in the operas La Traviata, Lucia di Lammermoor, Pagliacci and Rigoletto, and in the zarzuela Ang Mestiza.
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It was at around this time that she met the brilliant young lawyer Leonardo “Sig” Siguion-Reyna. A courtship blossomed and before long, wedding plans were in the air. Driving home with the couple from a bridal shower one afternoon, Purita Ponce-Enrile turned to the groom-to-be and said, “Once Armida and you are married, I guess she can no longer appear in operas and musicals.”
“Of course she can,” he answered, “but not in shows with Chichay, Pugo, and Tugo.”
Armida was silent. With unerring intuition, she knew the subtleties of a restricted life, and she did not like what she heard. When they reached the Ponce-Enrile house, she removed her engagement ring and presented it to her fiancé. “I’m returning this because we’re not getting married.”
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He was flustered. Her mother was horrified. Press releases had appeared, and gifts had started to arrive. Armida was unmoved. She went up to her room without saying another word. “I was confident and relaxed because I knew that I had done the right thing. I had made a vow when I was nine that I would never marry a man who would not respect my decisions, who would not trust me to make my choices. It may seem selfish on my part, but I also promised not to marry a man whom I loved more than he loved me.”
Siguion-Reyna’s relatives came and prayed the rosary. Purita went up to her daughter’s room. Still, Armida would not speak. Close to midnight, Siguion-Reyna asked to see her. “Is there a way for our wedding to go through?” he wanted to know.
She replied, “You don’t own my life. I will be a good wife to you. I will never drag your name into the mud. But you have to allow me to decide what it is I want to do with my life. I’m very clear about my choices.” Looking back, Armida says that the whole scene was like a soap opera. It is a tribute to both of them that their marriage had flourished for 58 fruitful years.
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In the 1970s, Armida became a serious actress. Decades after that initial screen test, she won her first Best Supporting Actress Award—for Sa Pagitan ng Dalawang Langit—at the 1975 Bacolod Film Festival.
Much later, Ryan Cayabyab composed musical scores for films that she produced. He said about her, “She was passionate about her craft and aims for realism in her work. She used her logic and creativity with the same intensity. When we had a schedule, every minute was accounted for. When we worked, every detail had to be perfect. She didn’t mince words, but she was very fair, very professional.
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“When we started working together, computerized mixing did not exist. Mixing music, dialogue, sound effects, and visuals was manually made. The process was tedious and took very long. We would spend days in the mixing room of a film production house. We had a lot of waiting time. But a piano was there, so we would spend hours singing. It was a lot of fun!”
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Armida Siguion-Reyna is best known for Aawitan Kita, the signature TV show that has secured her niche in Philippine music history. She revived the kundiman and balitawsongs, and popularized them. Rural scenes, antique houses and period costumes in the show created an air of nostalgia. Poetic emotions like sadness, passion, and love portrayed the Filipino soul with superb sensitivity.
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You have to love what you’re doing. You have to be truthful even to yourself. I am happy with my life. It may not be perfect, but it is very happy.
Aawitan Kita began in 1970. The original proposal was for a show in English, but ABS-CBN already had a similar format with Sunday, Sweet Sunday starring Fides Asensio and Jimmy Melendres. Armi- da met with writer Oscar Miranda and asked, “What if we do it in Tagalog? Aawitan Kita?” TV stations reacted with indifference.
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But inscrutable are the ways of serendipity. One fateful day, Sig Siguion-Reyna was on a Tokyo-Manila flight with Ambassador Roberto Benedicto, chairman of Channel 9. In the course of the journey, he mentioned his wife’s concept to Benedicto, who instantly recognized its potential.
Benedicto said, “Tell Armida not to say anything more. I’ll take care of it.” He conferred with the executives of Channel 9, and made it appear as though it were his idea. In no time, Aawitan Kita was on the air.
As the leading lady possessing an innate sense of theater, Armida performed with exuberance and wit. She chose the singers, the songs and costumes, and prepared the study guides. Having a natural bent for perfection, she was exacting about the artists’ accent and the phrasing of the lyrics. She featured superstars like Celeste Legaspi, Diomedes Maturan, Atang de la Rama, Conching Rosal, Ruben Tagalog, Sylvia la Torre, and Basil Valdes.
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Aawitan Kita was a hit. It garnered many awards and stayed on prime time for 20 celebrated years.
When she turned a glamorous 75 in 2005, she announced her idea of slowing down: She would stage a performance of Aawitan Kita once a month at the University of Makati. A project of Mayor Jejomar Binay, the shows are free of charge for senior citizens.
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Armida said she and her husband allowed their three children—Leonardo Jr., Monique, and Carlos—to make their own decisions. “You cannot be responsible for something that is not your choice,” she believed.
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In 2015, she launched her biography, Armida: Unfinished Memoir—The Singer and the Song, which was written by Nelson Navarro.
Armida Siguion-Reyna has had the luxury of living with amazing audacity. “I’ve always been a free spirit. I wanted to be a singer and an actress, and I pursued my dreams. You have to love what you’re doing. You have to be truthful even to yourself. I am happy with my life. It may not be perfect, but it is very happy.”
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