Missing Pasko

Thirty years since that first Christmas away from the Philippines, we still long for the day when we can savor the taste, smell, and sounds of Pasko.

This will be my family’s 30th Christmas in America and we still miss Pasko sa Pilipinas. We’re actually luckier than many families who have immigrated overseas, because all our children and grandchildren are with us (except for our eldest son who asked to go back to Manila some five years ago, to pursue his career).

To better appreciate our good fortune, we lived on a street in Parañaque which I called The Boulevard of Broken Dreams because our neighborhood accounted for too many instances of families breaking up because of the lure of a better life overseas.

Several of our neighbors had either husbands or wives leaving for abroad with the intention of one day returning and petitioning the rest of their loved ones — but eventually breaking up permanently with their families, choosing to live with new ones.

In one sad tale, both husband and wife took a chance as tourists in America and paid for marriages for convenience with US citizens in order to get green cards. However, the fake unions turned out to be permanent separation for the couple.

In the case of three other families, a spouse left for overseas, arranged a marriage for convenience but eventually found life abroad more desirable. This left the abandoned partner no choice but to also get married to someone else.

These tragic stories are replicated in the lives of thousands of overseas workers who, this year, must spend one more Christmas away from home. It must surely be during the Christmas season that they miss their families and the Philippines most of all.

For those who love to dream of a white Christmas, it may help to appreciate what an overseas Filipino misses about Pasko sa Pilipinas, in spite of all the aggravations that Manileños and those living in the provinces routinely gripe about.

Non- Filipinos are invariably amused upon learning that the Christmas season in the Philippines actually begins in September — when the “ber” months set in — and only ends after the Feast of the Three Kings in early January. Where else in the world can one find folk who can relish such simple joys?

But what fascinates foreigners most of all is the never- ending family reunions that mark the onset of December and the dining, drinking, singing, dancing and celebrating that come with them, as well as the noche buena on Christmas eve. All these, plus the traditional office Christmas parties and the feasts hosted by friends, not to mention the snacks at the perya and the puto bumbong and bibingka at the Church yard after the midnight masses.

My own clan had a tradition that saw families converge at our house on Dec. 24, then at the house of an elder brother on Christmas day, at a sister’s house on New Year’s eve and, finally, at another brother’s house on the Feast of the Three Kings. By the time the holiday season was over, we had all added pounds and developed beer bellies.

Each year saw a much bigger crowd arriving for the family reunions than the year before, what with older children getting married and having kids of their own. That meant a bigger budget for the mandatory distribution of

pamasko to the young ones. And where, in the past, a few centavos would elicit profuse expressions of gratitude, each new Christmas season saw the value of the peso being inexorably diminished.

What is Pasko without the carolers, especially the neighborhood kids who would canvass all the houses and exchange notes on which ones were generous and which ones were kuripot?

Our grandchildren, all born in America, may never experience the joy that their parents had in their caroling adventures. As soon as the radio and TV networks began playing Christmas music, the kids would start scampering from street to street, banging on makeshift instruments and singing

their version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”:

“Singko lang po, singko lang po, Singko lang po ang ibigay niyo. Ayos na ang buto-buto.”

And what is Pasko without the parols, the brightly colored Christmas lanterns with their dancing lights, hanging from windows and doors and bidding welcome to every passerby, whether friend or stranger?

What is Pasko without the Belen — the Christmas tableau with the Blessed Virgin Mary and St. Joseph gazing lovingly at the Christ Child in the manger, while the Three Kings and the shepherds hover around? I have nothing against Santa Claus and the reindeer being the symbols of Christmas in America, but I frankly find it odd that a big fat man in a winter outfit should represent Pasko in the tropical warmth of the Philippines.

What is Pasko without the shopping at Divisoria or Baclaran to seek out plastic toys and clothes for gifts, the while counting the few pesos in the wallet, or what is left