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| PASKU NA! PASKU NA! NANANU KO PA? A Castro Christmas in our old Mabalacat home in the early 80s. |
There’s a special spirit in the air when December comes, and
whoever invented the calendar certainly saved the best month for last—at least
that’s what I thought when I was younger.
The tell-tale signs that December is coming are apparent in the dip in
the thermometer, the endless carols blaring from the radio, and the ubiquitous
parul sampernandu making their appearance on houses and streets.
To a child growing up
in the 60s in Pampanga, December will always be a month unlike any other—for it
meant shortened school days, a long vacation and one or two weeks of exciting
holiday activities before the actual Christmas Day. In my elementary school
days, I remember how we turned our classroom into a virtual Winter Wonderland.
The centerpiece was a
Christmas tree fashioned from a real tree with branchescovered with lots of
cotton balls. We decorated our tree with chains made from colored paper, and
cut-out figures from old Christmas cards. Glitter was made from old cigarette
‘palara’ (foil) and more generous
classmates would donate five-centavo Chinese folding paper lanterns with
tassels of string. Traditional star lanterns of bamboo and papel de japon were
all hand-made—which, after being graded by our Industrial Arts teacher, were
quickly hung above our door.
There would also be
hurriedly-practiced Christmas presentations, which consist mostly of singing
carols learned from our Commonwealth era music books. We played manitu-manitu,
our version of Kris-Kringle, in which mystery benefactors gave small surprise
gifts for you every day—Texas bubble gum, a sachet of balitug (corn bits) a bar of Choc-nut, Señorita lemon drops. The identity of your donor is revealed on the
day of the Christmas Party, where more gifts are given, with the best reserved
for our “teacher-in-charge”.
Back home, our Christmas décor was more well-thought of—our
neighbors on our street have come to expect the unexpected from us, what with
our bewildering displays that never fail to catch passersby’s
attention. The second floor window of our house opens to the first floor roof
which provided a stage to mount our visual showcase a la Manila COD.
One time, we had a
“Belen” tableaux with figures made from “palis tambo” brooms, which drew mixed
reviews—our yaya said frankly that they looked more like
“tau-tauhan”(scarecrows) than the Holy Family. The next year, it was back to
traditional Santa Claus cartolina cut-outs with Paete papier mache horses that
we transformed into reindeers, by adding antlers made from coconut twigs.
Our worst display was
a character centerpiece that had nothing to do with Christmas, but which we
thought was a great idea at that time.
It was 1982 and E.T. was the current rage—so we made a
larger-than-lifesize papier mache figure of the cute extra-terrestrial, complete
with a pointing finger that lit up. Problem was, we didn’t know how to mount
it, so my younger brother hung it by the neck—arguing that it would make a
spectacular lantern. It sure became a talk-of-the-town as passersby would gasp
in horror at the spectral sight of an alien hanging by his neck, “executed” by
that weird family with a taste for the macabre! Eventually, my horrified mother
asked us to take E.T. down.
The remaining days
leading to the Christmas Day is marked with more frenetic preparations, as
house helps are mobilized to sweep the backyard, wax the floors and scrub the
wooden windows and the pasamanos (window ledges) with isis leaves, in a
cleaning frenzy.
Two weeks before
Christmas, my Ingkung would give an extra 100 pesos to my Ima for her Christmas
marketing. I remember accompanying her to far away San Fernando so she could
order special ‘saymadas’ slathered with butter and topped with grated ‘quezo de
bola’. This must explain why ensaymadas are my favorite pastries to this day.
Ati Bo, my father’s
former yaya and our resident cook would also be preparing the big ‘kawas’ and
‘kalderas’ for our special noche buena based on my Ima’s menu, scrubbing the
copper ‘tachos’ to bring back their gleam, which she will use for cooking tibuk-tibuk.
Banana leaves would be gathered from our backyard garden, cut in size and then
smoked to make them supple for wrapping suman and bobotu (tamales).
Around this time too,
while the adults are absorbed in their holiday chores, I would also be snooping
around to see what I would be receiving for Christmas. There were years when we
got ‘stateside’ gifts bought from Clark made possible by an American friend--my
favorite were the stockings stuffed with mint candies, small toys, crayons and
activity books.
When that was not
possible, my big sister would find something appropriate at Johnny’s Grocery in
Balibago or in the school supply stores of Angeles like Josie’s Variety and
Estrella’s. I always looked forward to receiving Classic Illustrated comic books (they cost 80
centavos back then) that featured both classic novels and fairy tales. I still
have a few issues saved from those past Christmasses.
Children were also
expected to attend religious festivities during the holidays and the
‘pastorellas’ of our church in Mabalacat were always a delight to hear. Latin hymns are sung during the 9-day
Christmas masses , and the songs include “Kyrie” (in Greek, actually) ,
“Gloria”, “Credo”, “Sanctus” and “Agnus Dei”. Though I could not understand a
word, the operatic hymns, sung by a full choir and accompanied by violins,
accordion and flutes, completely enthralled me, leading me to believe that
these musical pieces must have been composed in heaven. Today, the pastorella
tradition lives on a few other towns like Floridablanca, Betis and Sta. Rita.
The final prelude to
Christmas happens on Christmas Eve with the holding of the kid-anticipated
‘Maytinis’ (derived from Matins, or evening prayers)—the spectacular procession
of holy images—patrons of every
barangay, accompanied by colorfully lit
lanterns or parul. Village choirs singing “Dios te Salve” accompany the
faithful as they wend their way through the main streets of the town and back
to the church.
As a young boy, I
could only see the procession from afar—on the other side of Sapang Balen
river—as our narrow street was not part of the designated ‘limbun’ (procession)
route. How I often fretted those nights away! Which is why, when I was asked to
judge the Maytinis competition in 2004 (yes, prizes are now being given away
for the Best Lantern, Best Carroza, Best Barangay Participation, Best Choir,
etc.), I did not think twice and said yes. Through the years, the level of
artistry has grown by leaps and bounds, evident in the creatively-designed lanterns
and imaginatively-decorated floats; I
pray that the depth of devotion has grown too.
Call me killjoy, but
the excitement over Christmas drops drastically for me the day after—December
26. Then I start counting the days, weeks,and months all over again till the next December 25. For a chance to
bring back scenes from one’s childhood, 364 days is worth the wait.
NOTE: This article was one of the winning articles in the "Christmas In My Memory" Essay Writing Contest launched by Philippine Daily Inquirer in December 2014:
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