Christmas in Filipinia.
While you are in a land of starlight, frost, and sleighbells, here the
cool wind brushes through the palms and the blue sea sparkles in the
sun. "In every Christian kind of place" it is the time of Christmas
bells and Christmas masses. Even at the Aloran convent--about the
last outpost of civilization (only a little way beyond live the wild
mountain folk--sun-worshipers and the Mohammedans) the padre has
prepared a treat of nuts and raisins for the boys and girls--somewhat
of a Christmas cheer even so far across the sea. They have been
practicing their Christmas songs, Ave Maria and the "Oratorio," which
they will sing around the streets on Christmas eve. The schoolboys have
received their presents--dictionaries, sugared crackers, and perfumed
soap--and now that their vacation has begun, their little brown heads
can be seen bobbing up and down in the blue sea. Their Christmas-tree
will be the royal palm; and _nipa_ boughs their mistletoe.
Last Christmas in the provinces I spent in Iloilo at a hostel kept
by a barefooted Spanish landlady, slovenly in a loose morning-gown
and with disheveled hair, who stored the eggs in her own bedroom and
presided over the untidy staff of house-boys. As she usually slept
late, we breakfasted without eggs, being limited to chocolate and
cakes. The only option was a glass of lukewarm coffee thinned to
rather sickening proportions with condensed milk. Dinner, however,
was a more elaborate affair, consisting of a dozen courses, which
began with soup and ended with bananas or the customary cheese and
guava. The several meat and chicken courses, the "_balenciona_"--boiled
rice mixed with chicken giblets and red peppers--and the bread, baked
hard and eaten without butter, was washed down with a generous glass
of _tinto_ wine. A pile of rather moist plates stood in front of you,
and as you finished one course an untidy thumb removed the topmost
plate, thus gradually diminishing the pile.
The dining-room was very interesting. A pretentious mirror in a
tarnished gilt frame was the _piece de resistance_. The faded chromos
of the royal family, the Saints, and the Enfanta were relieved by the
brilliant lithographs presenting brewers' advertisements. A majestic
chandelier, considerably fly-specked, but elaborately ornamented
with glass prisms, dropped from the frescoed ceiling, and a cabinet
containing miscellaneous seashells, family photographs, and starfish
occupied one corner of the room.
There was a Christmas eve reception at the home of the "Dramatic
Club," where the refreshments of cigars and anisette and bock beer
were distributed with liberal hand. The Filipino always does things
lavishly. The evening was devoted to band concerts--the municipal
band in the pavilion rendering the Mexican waltzes, "Over the Waves,"
"The Dove," and other favorites, while the "upper ten" paraded in
the moonlight under the mimosa-trees--serenades under the Spanish
balconies, and carol-singing to the strumming of guitars. The houses
were illumined with square tissue paper lanterns of soft colors. The
public market was a fairyland of light. The girls at the tobacco booths
offered a special cigarette tied with blue ribbon as a souvenir of the
December holidays. A mass at midnight was conducted in the venerable
church. As the big bronze bells up in the belfry tolled the hour the
auditorium was filled with worshipers--women in flapping slippers and
black veils; girls smelling of cheap perfumery and cocoanut-oil, in
their stiff gauze dresses with the butterfly sleeves; barefooted boys
and young men redolent of cigarettes and musk. A burst of music from
the organ in the loft commenced the services, which were concluded
with the passing of the Host and a selection by the band. The priest
on this occasion wore his gold-embroidered chasuble; the acolytes,
red surplices and lace.
The streets next morning--Christmas-day--were thronged with
merry-makers. Strangers from the mountain tribes, wild, hungry-looking
creatures, had strayed into town, not only for the excitement of the
cockpit, but to do their trading and receive their share of alms,
which are distributed by all good Catholics at this season of the year.
Here on the corner was a great wag in an ass's head, accomplishing a
clumsy dance for the amusement of the crowd. Around the cockpit chaos
was the order of the day. The eager fighting-cocks, in expectation
of the combat, straining at their tethers, published to the world
their lusty challenges. The "talent," with delicious thrills, were
hefting favorite champions, and hastening' to register their wagers
with the bank.
The cock-fights lasted the entire week; at the end of that time the
erratic "wheel of fortune" had involved in ruin many an enthusiast
who had unfortunately played too heavily the losing bird.
A strolling troop of actors came to visit us that night. They carried
their own scenery and wardrobe with them, and the children who were
to present the comedy were dressed already for the first act. As they
filed in, followed by a mob of ragamuffins who had seen the show a
dozen times or more without apparent diminution of enjoyment, the
stage manager arranged the scenery and green-room, which consisted
of a folding screen. The orchestra, with bamboo flutes, guitars,
and mandolins, took places on a bench, where they began the overture,
beating the measure with bare feet and with as much delight as though
they were about to witness the performance for the first time. The
proprietor informed us that the entertainment was to be a comedy of
old Toledo. It was somewhat of a Cyrano de Bergerac affair; one of
the principals, concealed behind the "leading man," using his own
arms for gestures, sang his representative love for the señorita
in the Spanish dancer's costume. The castanet dance was repeatedly
encored, especially by those familiar with the program, who desired
that we appreciate it to its full extent. The actors in this dance
were dressed as Spanish buccaneers are popularly supposed to dress,
in purple breeches buttoned at the knee, red sashes, and gold lace....
Last night at our own church three paper lanterns, shaped like stars
and representing the "three wise men," at the climax of the mass were
worked on wires so that they floated overhead along the auditorium,
and finally came to rest above the altar, which had been transformed
into a manger, the more realistic on account of the pigs, ducks,
and chickens manufactured out of paper that had been disposed around.
To-day three men in red are traveling from house to house with candles
followed by an attendant with a bell, ringing away the evil spirits
for a year. The councilmen in snowy blouses and blue pantaloons, with
their official canes, are making their official calls, and Padre Pedro
in his pony cart has been around to visit his parishioners. The band,
equipped with brand new uniforms and instruments, is playing underneath
the convent balcony. Their duties during the festivities are strenuous;
for they must serenade the residence of every magnate in the town,
receiving contributions of _pesetas_, cigarettes, and gin.
This afternoon we made our round of calls, for every family keeps
open house. A number of matinée balls were in session, where the
natives danced "clack-clack" around the floor to the monotonous drone
of home-made instruments. Our friends all wished us a "_Ma-ayon
Pascua_" or "_Feliz Pascua_," for which "Merry Christmas" they
expected some remembrance of the day. Our efforts were rewarded
by innumerable gifts of cigarettes and many offers of _tanduay_
and gin. At one place we experimented with a piece of "_bud-bud_,"
which is (as its name implies) a sweet-meat made of rice paste mixed
with sugar. The hams with sugar frosting, and the cakes flavored with
native limes, and cut in the shape of the "Ensanguined Heart," were
more acceptable. At one house we received a cake made in the image of
a lamb, with sugar ringlets representing fleece. At our departure,
"many thanks, sir, for the visit," and a final attempt to get rid
of another cigarette. It is in bad taste to refuse. A Filipino host
would feel offended at your not accepting what he offered. He would
feel as though discrimination were implied.
At night after the cock-fight one droll fellow brought around
a miniature marionette theater, of which he was the proud
proprietor. While his assistant blew a bamboo flute behind the scenes,
the puppets danced fandangoes and played football in a very lifelike
manner. Seated on an empty cracker-box in front, surrounded by the
ragged picaninnies, sat Dolores, with her sparkling eyes, lips parted,
and her black hair hanging loose,--oblivious to everything except
the marionettes.
The star attraction was preceded by applause. The number was
announced by those familiar with the exhibition as a "Moro combat,"
and as the assistant struck a harrowing obligato on an old oil-can,
the Moros appeared with fighting _campalons_ and barbarous-looking
shields. The crowd expressed its approbation in wild howls. The first
two rounds were rather tame. "Afraid! Afraid!" exclaimed the crowd,
but presently the combatants began to warm up to their work and to
make frantic lunges at each other at the vital spot. This was the
time of breathless and instinctive pressing forward from the back
rows. Somebody cried out, "_Cebu!_" or "Down in front!" and then again,
"_Patai!_" which means "dead." One of the warriors at this cue flopped
supine on the stage, and the suppressed excitement broke. The victor,
not content with mere manslaughter, plied his sword so energetically
as quickly to reduce his victim to a state of hash. At this point
his Satanic majesty, the curtain manager, saw fit to intervene, and
with a long spear he successfully probed the limp remains, completing
the assassination. I had not known until then what a young barbarian
Dolores was.
The last attraction of our Christmas week was a genuine Mystery play,
the Virgin Mary being represented by a girl in soiled white stockings
and a confirmation dress. The Christ Child was a Spanish doll in a
glass case. There were the three wise men--one in a long beard and a
pink mask, and the others in gold braid and knickerbockers--more like
dandies than philosophers. "Joseph" was splendid, with a shepherd's
crook and a sombrero. Adoration before the manger was the theme that
was developed in a series of ballets danced by the children to a
tambourine and castanet accompaniment. At the conclusion of the play,
the little actors in their starry costumes, Joseph and the Virgin
(carrying the Babe), the three philosophers, and the musicians and
the army of admiring followers, filed out into the moonlight, and
as the sweet music of the "Shepherds' Song" diminished gradually,
they disappeared within a shadowy grove of palms.
A Christmas Feast.
When Señor Pedro gave his Christmas feast, he went about it in
the orthodox way. That is, he began at midnight Christmas eve. The
Christmas pig we were to have had, however, disappointed us--and
thereby hangs a tale.
Came Señor Pedro early in the morning of the twenty-fourth, and "In
the mountains," Señor Pedro said, "runs a fat pig." _Usa ca babui
uga dacu!_ A regular feast of a pig running at large near the macao
woods on the slope beyond Mercario's hemp-fields!
Nothing would do but that I buckle on my Colt's--a weapon that I
had done much destruction with among the lesser anthropoids in the
vicinity. Then we set out radiantly for the hills, with Señor Pedro
leading and a municipal policeman with us to take home the pig. We soon
arrived at the pig's stamping grounds. We had not long to wait. There
was a snapping of the underbrush, and "Mr. Babui" appeared upon the
scene. His great plank side and sagging belly was as fair a mark as
any sportsman could have wished. His greedy little eyes were fixed
upon the ground where he was rooting for his Christmas dinner.
Bang! The bullet from the army Colt's sped true. Our pig, flat on
his back, was squealing desperately, and his feet were pawing the air
as last as though he had been run by clockwork and had been suddenly
released from contact with the ground. Then the municipal policeman
went to pick him up. But lo, a miracle! Our Christmas pig, inspired by
supersusine terror on the approach of the dire representative of law,
regained his legs, and before we could recover from our astonishment,
had scudded away with an expiring squeak like that emitted from a
musical balloon on its collapse. We never found the pig. He was just
mean enough to die in privacy.
But there was to be some compensation. What, though our Christmas
dinner had escaped? I managed to bring down a monkey that for some
time had been chattering and scolding at us from a tree, and with this
substitute--a delicacy rare to native palates--marched triumphantly
back to the town.
Exactly at midnight the _señores_ took their seats around the
board. The orchestra was stationed in an elevated alcove in the next
room. On the benches sat the women, from the dainty Juliana in her
pink cotton hosiery and white kid slippers to the old witch Paola,
the town scold. We knives or forks. Heaping platefuls of rice were
served with the stewed meat--cut in small pieces that "just fit the
hand," and cooked with vegetables. At my request the monkey had been
roasted whole. "All la same bata" (baby) cried my host, and sure,
I never felt more like a cannibal in all my life. I shuddered later
when, the ladies at the table, Juliana gnawed the thigh-bone of the
little beast with relish.
Señor Pedro kept the orchestra supplied with gin, with the result
that what they lacked in accuracy they made up for in enthusiasm. In
the dim room, lighted only by the smoky "kinkes," we could see the
hungry eyes of those awaiting the third table--the retainers and the
poor relations. On the boards below was spread a banquet of rice and
_tuba_ for the multitude.
The party broke up with a dance, and as the pointers of the Southern
Cross faded from the pale sky, the happy merrymakers filed off to their
beds. They had so little in this far-off corner of the world, and yet
they were content. Had not the stars looked down upon them through the
tropic night? Had not the blue sea broken in phosphorescent ridges
at their feet? And didn't they have the Holy Virgin on the walls to
smile a blessing on their little scene of revelry? O, it was Christmas
over all the world! And on this day at least the white man and the
"little brown brother" could shake hands over mutual interests.