The Lenten Season

As one might assume, because the Philippines is a predominantly Christian (specifically a Catholic) country, the Lenten season is a pretty big deal. Our first few weeks at our cluster sites coincided with the culmination of all of this, so we had the opportunity to observe how our communities observe and/or celebrate.

My first Sunday at cluster was Palm Sunday, and my host parents went off to Mass at 4:30 am while the kids slept in and went at 7 am (there went my hopes of having just ½ hour in the house without another person there) after preparing their palm fronds on the front patio. After church, everything was pretty much the same as any other day- normal events occurred as far as meals and chores. I chose to go into the city with two of my clustermates and all the shops and restaurants were open.

The next week rolls around and my family is very surprised that I have class on both Maundy Thursday and Black (?) Saturday. Peace Corps gives us every Sunday off during training (we have 5 day weeks once we’re sworn in) and we also had Good Friday as a holiday. Maundy Thursday, we went to observe a tradition that is common here- the singing of the passion. During the last week of the Lenten season people gather in their homes and churches to sing through the passions. Some people do it in shifts or only sing parts of it, but the churches will usually do the whole thing which take approximately 24 hours. We went in the morning to observe for a while and it was quite an event. There were two groups of singers alternating sections, meanwhile other people were listening and/or chatting. A group of men were sitting around drinking gin (which is a general term for the local very high proof distilled grain alcohol) and food was out everywhere. People were also chewing on betel nuts and smoking cigars. We thought it was interesting that people would come to church and partake in vices during Lent…

On Good Friday, a couple of us decided that we wanted to go for a hike to a waterfall we’d heard about on nearby Mt. Isarog. Our language instructor told us that we were not to leave the road if we were not with someone from our host families. I think she was afraid that we’d get lost, which is funny since the couple I went hiking with are very experienced outdoorsmen and quite skilled at orienteering- probably more so than most Filipinos around here.

Being good sports, we thought we’d ask another trainee’s family member who’d been there before to go with us, but it was also explained to us that people didn’t travel or do much of anything on Good Friday that isn’t a holiday specific activity. We ended up going out on a hike after promising not to stray from the road (or going beyond the barangay for my family- they think anyplace where they don’t know the people is VERY dangerous). We absolutely did not go beyond the border of our barangay into the neighboring community, and we absolutely did not follow a very well marked dirt road (it’s still a road, right?) as it dwindled down to a path traversed only by carabao and people toward a small river where one might leave said carabao to bathe in the water. No, we absolutely did not do any of those things. And we all came home alive and very much in one piece, no problems encountered.

In the afternoon we had made plans to go into Naga and meet our resource volunteer for dinner at a local Indian restaurant. As we made our way through the city, we noticed that most all of the businesses were either closed or in the process of closing- the only exceptions were McDonalds, Jollibee, Greenwich (pizza place) and Lucky 9 (the Filipino equivalent of 7-11, even though they have that too). We figured that the restaurant would be open though, since the family that owns it is Indian and very much not Catholic. We arrived to find out we were mistaken and that they would be closed until Monday. Needless to say, we were quite disappointed and settled for some pizza (the sauce here is really sweet, too sweet for my tastes) and some billiards. There was also a very large Easter procession through the center of town, with many floats and people walking along.

The next day when we had class (my family was appalled that we had to meet) our instructor took us into the city to show us where the post office and a few other things were. Surprisingly, most everything in the city was open and bustling…except our Indian restaurant. We did end up able to check our email and meet up with our resource volunteer for dinner at a local restaurant. At the restaurant, the chef was “sick” and most of the menu wasn’t available- but we managed to have a pretty good meal anyway and get home without much of a wait (for transportation, not the food- that was slow).

On Sunday, my family had invited me to attend Mass with them (apparently there’s some “to do” with an Angel) but I declined since the 4:30 time was daunting and I didn’t want to give the impression that I would be going with them to Mass every week. By the time I got up at 7 (sleeping in!) my family was already home and blaring the radio. I spent the remainder of the day doing laundry and discovering why the kids manage to stay up so late- they sleep for about 4 hours every afternoon when I’m in class. For the most part, things were pretty low key until evening rolled around.

In our barangay they held a dance/beauty pageant on the local basketball court. This was a whole family event, and since my host mother is on the barangay council and part of the committee sponsoring it, she had to be there on time. So, 20 minutes before 8 pm my host mother, her sister-in-law, the four kids between the two and myself headed out down the road to where the festivities would take place. Now, the road in the barangay is quite narrow and it is pretty much impossible to walk on it when cars drive by and it’s a tight squeeze when trikes, podyaks or motorcycles go by. Despite that, all the kids wanted to walk rightnexttome, and damn near tripped me several times as well as made it quite dangerous when vehicles would pass us. I tried several times to get us into a more of a line, but somehow they always adjusted themselves to be rightnexttome again.

Once we got to the dance, my host mom got me a seat at a table on the edge of the floor and we sat down. Shortly the event started and after they announced, “before we go any further we’d like to acknowledge a special person here tonight (cue my stomach dropping into my shoes and the urge to hide under the table)…a peace corps volunteer, Vanessa Harmon!” At this point, my host mother is looking quite self-satisified (she’d told the guy to do it) and is urging me to stand up so the entire barangay can gawk at me. And at that exact moment there was a brownout. Brownouts here aren’t what they are in the states- for some reason they refer to what we know as blackouts as brownouts, even though they’re pretty darn black. After a minute or two the lights came back on and things proceeded, though they remembered to re-announce me and make me stand up again. And I thought a lot of people already knew my name before…

Next up in the night was the “beauty pageant” of girls in the barangay, from the ages of 14 to 16. I found it quite interesting that girls who normally are fairly well covered up are encouraged, on Easter Sunday, to don swimsuits and heels and stroll around the basketball court for the entire community to stare at and judge while a cheesy lite-rock song played on repeat and the announcer introduced each girl, her age, school, career interests and personal motto (aka the most trite inspirational quotes you can think of) all in English. To say that the girls looked extremely uncomfortable would be a gross understatement. There was only one girl that looked happy to be there and she was the one who aspired to be a dancer amidst the future nurses and accountants. You draw your own conclusions about that one.

It was at this point that one of my fellow trainees arrived and I made him sit with me, if only to have someone to exchange looks of humor/mortification with. I might also add that the last two weeks my malaria medication has been making me feel a little funky- light headed and a bit dizzy (the PC doctor already knows and I’m reporting back to her if I feel that way this week)- so the whole situation felt quite surreal. We decided that we were actually in the middle of what could be a very successful skit on SNL. The song on repeat was absolutely horrible and it just kept going- when in doubt, play it again. There was a whole show of parading these obviously uncomfortable girls around to be stared at.

When it came time to announce the winners, it was decided that we trainees should be the ones to award them. The first time Noah went up they told him to kiss the girl on the cheek- the whole crowd roared with laughter and cheers. The second time up he decided to try out a prat fall, which elicited a similar response to that of the kiss (my host mother didn’t realize it was a joke and tried to reassure him that he fell because he’s so tall). When it came time to crown the winner, the former winner came out on the floor with crown on and it got stuck in her hair. It took two women several minutes to get it free. We concluded that, in the end, the girl who “won” was the tallest, thinnest and whitest of the bunch.

After the pageant ended the emcee announced that they would start collecting fees for those who wanted to dance. It was at this point that everyone who had been sitting around the dance floor got up and moved out toward the exit, where they milled around. A few people got up and tried to get people dancing, but to no avail. The music wasn’t terribly encouraging, but I think it was the 10/20 peso entrance fee that discouraged most everyone. Next, a very familiar man and woman show up and sit down next to me. I said hello to them and the man asks me, “do you remember who I am?” (I hate that question- I meet so many people it’s near impossible to remember everyone’s name) It turns out she’s the mayor of the municipality whom I had met several days earlier. I knew he looked familiar, but man do I hate those loaded questions when nobody throws me a clue.

About this time, I let my host mom know that I was feeling funny and she suggested that we go home (I also wanted to escape the military trainee that was trying to chat me up in the 10 or so words of English that he knew). And so ends my fabulous tale of my first Lenten season, here’s hoping that next year will be much less eventful. Maybe I can take a trip to the north where I hear people actually crucify themselves as a way of showing their devotion!