Fiesta!!

One of the Spanish traditions that is alive and well here in the Philippines is the fiesta celebration. Every municipality and barangay in the Philippines has their separate, special fiesta time, all of them devoted to a saint. The municipal fiestas are the biggest celebrations. In the Philippines nation, the size of New Mexico, there are 1400 different municipalities, and 40,000 barangays. That means a lot of fiestas. If you have family or good friends in a nearby barangay, it is incumbent upon you to attend. This begins to explain why work is not a high priority here. Many days, a coworker has come into the office and inquired about someone who was supposed to be at work for a meeting. The response is usually, "Oh, he is a fiesta for Barangay Rizal", or 'Lukay,' or 'Naga Asan' or any one of the other 21 barangays in this municipality. Upon hearing that someone is a fiesta, all responsibility is forgiven, and the person inquiring, usually a lady, says, "Ahh" with raised eyebrows and her high heels click the bare concrete floor as she swivels and leaves the room.

Whenever I mention going to fiesta, I am warned to be on the lookout for witches. 'Witches,' I am told, 'like to go to parties with lots of people. If they see a white person or someone they want to curse, they will do a 3-point shot, and throw poison from a long ways away into the dish being consumed.' These curses usually lead to stomach discomfort, diarrhea, and headaches, oddly enough, some of the same symptoms that occur with food poisoning. A lot of times, you get sick from fiesta food, but I think it's probably because some things are undercooked. But, instead of accusing the cook of underpreparing the food, witches are blamed for bacterial contamination here. It's a much more non-confrontational way to do things.

Fiesta is a time when everybody makes as much seafood, pork, rice, chicken, karabaw, and root crops as they possibly can, and then generously invite all of their friends, coworkers, politicians, and family over to gorge themselves. The idea is to pick the most decadent household to go to first, filling up on food of wealthy people, and then, after getting full as a tick, waddling over to another household for tuba (coconut wine) and sumsuman (snacks to eat with coconut wine.) During most Filipino events, birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, etc., barcadas, or little groups of men drinking wine and eating snacks will be found sitting out in front of homes, or in some back room of the house, talking away, shirts off, drinking gallon after gallon of coconut wine. Most town fiestas are during May, which is dry season, so there is little chance of festivities being hampered by bad weather. However, the month of May is also hot as the dickens. So, in my case, add to your mental picture of all the seafood, the beer and tuba set out in a tiny living room with nondescript furniture and 7 people sitting in an area meant for two, an 8^th person, much larger than the rest, sitting in the corner awkwardly with beads of sweat on his forehead and a non-oscillating fan directed straight at his face for maximum effect. That person is me.

Thus far, I have been to 4 homes for fiesta, and it's only the first day. Tomorrow, I will be going to 3 other homes, (and probably stopping by a few more on my walk home from town.) Everyone celebrates fiesta in some way, either by hosting a big party with lots of food, or, if you're too poor, by just sitting around drinking. Last night, after going to a few houses to make an appearance and contribute to food insecurity, I was turning into the walkway that leads to our house out in rice fields. At the little waiting shed at the end of our lane, there were 5 boys, sitting in the dark, quietly sitting and looking at the clear starry sky, the north star visible on one horizon, the southern cross visible on the other. They had a 5 peso pack of orange drink mixed with a 50 peso bottle of vodka and water in a pitcher, and were passing around a shot glass. The guys ranged in age from 12 to 35, and motioned for me to sit down with them, share in their fiesta. I obliged, sat down on the edge of the concrete wall beside them, and shared in a couple rounds.

The difference between the big 'lavish' parties in town and that of my poorer neighbors outside of town was like night and day, and the class struggle in this tiny corner of the world struck me. These guys aren't interested in flying to another part of the world, seeing snow-capped mountains, or even in having computers or internet, they just want a piece of the pie in our simple town. When the little pitcher was finished, everyone sat in silence and looked out at the star-gemmed night's sky.