ROCHESTER, New York -- What is it like during Christmastime in your country? - I was asked a dozen times last year. I cannot help but feel nostalgic as it is my second Christmas away from home. The revelry Filipinos make during Christmas is quite unique that it is something to look forward to every year.
David, my sponsor, and I took time to wander around the village here at nighttime to watch the glitter of Christmas lights people put up on their lawns. The grandest of which, I assume, belonged to a lady who doesn't know what to do with her money that she probably bought all the beautiful lights she could grab on and installed them on her lawn. The effect was spectacular. It has become an annual attraction, probably much to the dismay of her neighbors, particularly that they are situated in an exclusive, though not gated, cul de sac section of the village. On the other hand, to satisfy my friends' curiosity about the traditions we have during Christmas I told them, "Christmas season in my country starts in August and ends in March." My reply generated more questions. To give them a picture of how diverse and creative Filipinos celebrate Christmas I told them that most households or stores put up Christmas trees with snowflakes made of shredded styrofoam or cotton fibers, carolers sing "Let It Snow!", "White Christmas", and "Frosty the Snowman" even when the temperature is like summertime. "But don't you have snow at all?" a friend asked. Before I could even answer a lady said, "That would be the end of the world if that happened." I couldn't agree more. However, whatever the situation, Filipinos still sing "Jingle Bells" with glee - "Dashing through the snow. Hey!"
No other nation in the world can beat the Filipinos in celebrating Christmas. With our Western and Eastern influences, Christmas extends until the Chinese New Year. "You're Chinese then?" one of my friends asked me. Well, that question I never dared answer again. To sum it up I miss the bingka and puto sold outside the churches, the buko salad that my mother makes, and the spaghetti and other native delicacies our neighbors would bring to our house on New Year's eve. But what I miss most is my grandmother's kisses and her warm hands on my cheeks as she greets me, "Happy New Year!" as if it will be our last celebration together.
However, between the gray skies of Upstate New York and its ground filled with snow I busied myself to combat boredom. Somehow it gets into you when you hardly see people on their yard as it is so cold outside. Also, it gets harder every year when you receive gift cards and gift certificates as presents as you get confused which one to use first. Then, there's the marathon splurge on recently released books, DVDs, and CDs borrowed from the public library.
On New Year's Eve we were invited to a dinner. We Filipinos are used to having these festive gatherings that we'd find it odd to find just soup, ham, and two or three more dishes on the table during that moment. The dinner we attended was calm, though not religious. However, it was solemn, maybe because the people I was with were almost twice my age.
On the other hand, it was unlike the usual gatherings I have attended where death seemed to be a sacred word. No, those previous gatherings I attended were not some ritual but gatherings of the elderly. They talk about the past, the same past they have probably discussed before. However, they pretend they haven't discussed it yet and act surprised. Somehow they get into conversations like "my arthritis is worse than your arthritis" as if they are proud to outdo their friends' maladies. Interestingly enough when somebody announces that one of their friends has passed away you can see from the old folks' eyes their sadness, but not from the loss of a dear friend but a sadness that tells, "Why can't it be me?" That is true especially when you are turning 104 years old this year. But I am usually amazed by these people. Lately, I was told that one of those whom I met donated some $7 million to a school while another gifted nine of her grandchildren $10,000 each. Some of those who passed away left their churches thousands of dollars. These gift givers are usually those who dressed modestly and acted simple. I keep on wondering what I could leave to my folks when I pass away. Maybe the dumbbells I received last Christmas. Maybe they will say that what I left carries more weight than anything else they have received.
To return to that night before New Year's Day I was grateful for the attention David's friends gave me. I wasn't lonely after all, but I fancied myself with the cat named Tabatha who kept on hiding under the Christmas tree. Later their conversation led to their friend's woe about her Jewish orthodox neighbors who kept on bugging her every Friday night until the end of the Sabbath. She said her neighbor would knock on her door on Friday afternoon and ask her to turn the lights on or turn it off at 11 p.m. as they are not supposed to do any kind of work on the Sabbath. Sometimes they'd ask her to take some of their meals out of the car and put it in the microwave. It was like she had become their maid, but only because she was doing her Christian task of helping people. One of her friends said, "When they come to knock again say this, 'Sweet Jesus! What is it now?'" We all laughed. Another suggested that she invite one of the ladies at church, who is committed to preaching the gospel, for an overnight stay one Friday. It would be another family added to the church, considering that her neighbor has 11 children.
We all parted close to midnight . However, I held on to my longing - I imagined the noises the firecrackers made and the smoke that enveloped our village in Bacolod . My family surely welcomed the New Year with glee. While we were driving home I turned on the radio and heard "White Christmas" being played. It was as if I never left home.
(Published in Sun.Star Bacolod)
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