Despite the nippy air of December mornings and the occasional Christmas carol playing in the background it is difficult to feel that we are in the middle of the yuletide season. It does not help that carnage of historic proportions continues to assault our sensibilities from the murder of innocents to the killing of remnant institutions that remind us of our near-dead democracy.
The Christmas reds and greens have turned bloody crimson, scarlet, and olive drab. Reckless experiments with our constitution and the threat of resurgent dictatorship is in the air. The sound of chimes is now the sound of mortar blasts and gunfire. Heavenly choirs have turned into wailing and weeping. The rooftop pitter-patter is neither from Dasher nor Dancer but the creeping and crawling of second-storey thieves. From the banal to the spiritual, the constant assault on sensibilities is overpowering.
Of what significance is giving when there is nothing left to sacrifice and our fragile humanity is reduced with the triviality of life wantonly snuffed out? Of what substance are institutions when hope is dashed by the perpetuation of high-level criminality?
Fortunately, there are other signs and here we list some that come as certain as the calendar flips to the merriest time of the year.
First, it’s a certainty that when the yuletide is near motorists can expect traffic enforcers and street aides to be overly diligent. Ask any mulcted taxi cab driver. The only other time this pouncing phenomenon occurs is during the run-up to St. Valentine’s Day as salivating packs hide around corners, slither behind signages, shrubs and garbage bins. Hardly any citations are handed out, but cheer is no doubt spread.
Another sign that the season of giving is here are hand-written notes in our mailboxes, scribbled by a gaggle of garbage collectors who, throughout the year are as scarce as tiny reindeer. Rather than written on stationeries, greetings are etched on envelopes conveniently the size of paper money – proof of McLuhan’s symbiotic postulate that the medium is the message.
Note also another sign of Christmas that invades our privacy as does criminality intrude aggravated by a season perched on the eve of an electoral campaign period. Pickpockets are everywhere, their omnipresence rivaled by baby-bussing and crowing politicians who frighteningly materialize at all Misas de Gallo.
Past is prologue and Christmas is as good a time as any to start early. In informal settler neighborhoods, squatter enclaves and slums, street children are happily engaged in a fantasy world, immersed in imagination and role-playing deep within the universe of make-believe. The most popular toys are no longer dolls or train sets. At this time of the year, street urchins from three to sixty-three can be seen racing after each other, leaping over fences, gutters and canals with the most realistic, lethal- and deadly-looking plastic replicas of Smith and Wesson, Glock and Uzi.
In the corporate universe, utilitarianism also rules. Umbrellas have replaced fruitcakes as the most circulated present and it has become a sign of the yuletide when, on every street corner, messengers ply with at least ten umbrellas wrapped with plastic.
The utility of umbrellas cannot be denied. People need at least three – one to leave at home, another to leave in the bus and yet another, to leave in taxi cabs. Umbrellas also have longer shelf lives than fruitcake. They advertise and circulate. While fruitcakes also circulate, no one really eats these and I suspect there is really only one loaf passed around and recycled yearly.
One can likewise tell that the holidays are here by the proliferation of off-line automated teller machines. In the case of one bank, their machines are reputed to regularly hibernate during weekends, non-working holidays or when the public needs cash the most.
One explanation is the volume of withdrawals. The other is the interest float banks earn when cash is retained or lent in the overnight inter-bank call loan market.
Finally, in our litany of Christmas signs, the season of giving would be senseless without recipients. During the yuletide these are provided by enterprising syndicates that import ethnic (Aetas, Lumads, etc.) beggars from far-flung provinces and strategically placing them under tree-lined routes next to plush palatial enclaves. Location, location, location.
Never mind that for the herded and trucked-in, none speak Tagalog. Cardboard signs are scribbled for them invoking the spirit of sharing.
Counterfeit charity, cabal carnage and constructive martial rule notwithstanding, these are signs that Christmas will still push through as scheduled.
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Dean,
Merry Christmas to you.
Merry Christmas to you and your family, Karl.
Dean
I concur with most of your expertly-woven observations, except for this little nit-picky detail:
“Despite the “nippy” air of December mornings…”
Sorry, but we missed the “nippy” air part when it was parceled out to the entire country. To this day, here in our province I start sweating the minute I turn off either the air-con or electric fan, whether night or day, or in between.
Try sleeping naked. Merry Christmas to you, Amadeo.
Dean
With all the hustles and bustles of life. We must not forget. That
the Christian Faith gave us hope for humanity. An infant came from the Divine to remind us that we must live as Human Beings. Not as animals. That although there are negative aspects in our world. There is hope that we can overcome them. By living our lives as Human Beings.
We have our choices. To live in love. To live in peace and understanding. And, not to eat one another. Until we become extinct.
We are known by our choices. We are human by our choices. And we will
survive by our choices.
To the downtrodden Filipinos, the season of Yule is as illusory as a whished-for constructive white Christmas (in the tropics) just as to the voiceless Filipinos, their power as sovereign particles is as unreal as . . . well, a constructive democracy.
“Constructive resignation,” that we are quite familiar with.
J_AG at mlq3 has seen “constructive rebellion” as basis for Proclamation 1959.
And now, “constructive martial rule”?
At least we are gifted in the coinage of words like Scissor’s Palace for a barber shop in Q.C. Or Miss Sago (the business logo is complete Miss Saigon poster!) for an ethic kitchenette.
Merry Christmas, Dean.
Buti na lang wala pang “constructive Christmas”.
Merry Christmas, Abe.
Dean
Yes! divine humanism. Is how we choose to live our lives, and it’s our individual choices, to partake our sufficient for existence, in the society we live in. Nobody’s fault but mine. To be prosperous, one must be content, and not overzealous. May God Bless us, in this time of need.
Merry Christmas Dean, and to your families.
Merry Christmas, Mario.
Tama ka. May God bless us.
Dean
Christmas is production time for tarpaulins and this printing festival is raking awesome sums of money.
Wait until the politicians start with their own festival. Or better still, their carnival.
Happy Christmas, Primer!
Dean
Dean,
A foreigner quickly realizes the futility of finding exactly the same feel about Christmas when he looks up at the tops of the mountains and sees, not snow, but coconut palms or red-hot lava. And when he ventures to the mall in October and sees the satanic Halloween decorations side-by-side with those of the Christ, not that real life is much different than that. There is no whisper of Thanksgiving about, the one genuine American holiday dedicated to family rather than gifts or candy or drunken shenanigans imported from Ireland. Then come the fire crackers on Christmas, a place where bomb-like explosions were never meant to be; I imagine youngsters taking pot shots at Santa’s sleigh because they have not been very good during the year, so why not blast Donner and Blitzen, apprentice work for dynamite fishing. In the island hinterlands, they share food for Christmas, not gifts, because people are kind enough to recognize that not everyone can afford trinkets.
Hey, it’s the Philippines, the one place for sure where folks do it their own way, and let those who need it frozen, or pine-scented, or gift-laden ponder the futility of THEIR way.
If it’s in the heart, the notion of giving, peace and good will, it’s Christmas anywhere.
Have a jolly merry one.
Joe
The best one is when we greet each other Merry Christmas during Misa de Gallo.
Merry Christmas Joe.
Dean
I love the way this was written. Thank you.
Thank you too Geejay.
Despite the Scrooge-like quality, am still a sucker for Christmas.
Meer Christmas to you.
Dean
Finally found time to read FV blogs. Nice article Dean. You just reminded me how Christmas is celebrated in Phil. I hope I will have the luxury of coming home on Christmas one day. I just typed home yet I have been here in Canada for the last 20 years. The things that stay with you. I hope you had enjoyed the recent festivities with friends and family. Happy New Year to you in the coming year of the tiger and best wishes to all the readers and writers at FV alike.
Rosa,
Your words reminds me of the old song “Old photographs” by Jim Capaldi and I can almost feel your yearnings for home though I’m sure Canada is quite a nice country to live hearing from my kins there. Don’t play that song else you’ll be longing for home some more, heheh.
MERRY CHRISTMAS to you and your family, Rosa!
Bert, I went to youtube and played this song and the tears just started to fall. Yeah no matter how good life is here, there is still parts of you that yearn for home. I heard this song before and have forgotten it but now can relate to the lyrics. On another nostagic moment last night with my mom, we were listening to one of my dad’s favorite song and was also reaching for the kleenex. My dad passed away at a young age of 60 and that is another reason why I have to go home one day to visit his grave. Listen to this haunting song by Nana Mouskuri.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPZVGdm_CJ8
Dear Rosa,
I’ve only spent Christmas in two other places than Manila. One was in New York in one of those rare times when it actually snows on Christmas eve in that city. The other was on a plane.
So I guess the comparisons are a bit skewed. Nothing beats the walking back home from a Misa de Gallo in the chilly morning with loved ones, and passing by the Nativity scene and the old bibingka and puto bumbong stand.
But then again, Christmas is something personal whenever we add to it depending on where we are, who we’re with and who we are. Kaya naman unique lahat.
Merry Christmas to you from the land where the season is the longest.
Dean
Christmas this year has been very white and sometimes I hope global warming happens here in Calgary since it has been double digit negative freezing weather for the last month now. For the zealous environmentalist who might be cruisin, that was just a joke (I swear I have just finished a project on CO2 emission control). My mother -in-law has cooked a delicious turkey dish along with spicy ribs and as usual -have taken advantage of this occasion to do my wine tasting bringing three bottles of wine which is exceeding the demand from our family since I think I am the only one who drinks more than one glass. On 26 I have gone boxing day shopping topping the day with visiting a newly expanded Filipino restaurant here. On a side note, there are so many Filipino restaurants and grocery stores opening here that I think it will turn Darwinian soon. I miss the bibingka that my neighbour used to cook in her yard and the scent of pine tree which you smell once you get out of the church where I grew up. You are right though Dean, each culture has its own way of celebrating Christmas and we too adapt especially as we want to make it special for everyone. But once in a while a blog like yours reminds us of special moments we had way back when we were younger and life was so much simpler then.