This is my late paternal grandmother Inang with my youngest brother VJ- he was probably 5 or 6 years old at the time Tatay took this photo. Tomorrow, the Veneracions return to Bukid in San Ildefonso, Bulacan where Inang used to preside over Christmas Day celebrations. For Mom and Tatay, me and my brothers, this was the most special time of the year- more important even than Christmas Eve's Noche Buena. We would practice the mano- or place the back of the hands of our grandparents, uncles, and aunts on our foreheads as a sign of love and respect- and receive gifts of cash (and also wrapped gifts- shirts or toys) from each of our elders. Other children, too, would be brought by neighbors to the farmhouse to "bless" and receive their "pamasko" (gifts).
The kitchen at the back of the house was usually filled with women who helped Inang prepare the feast with ingredients coming straight from the yard. My grandfather Tatang and his fellow farmers gathered in front of the granary to cook lechon, a whole pig skewered with a bamboo pole and roasted until it turned red over charcoal. Tito Lore, a judge, and Tita Lydia usually arrived after lunch bringing candied mango, guava and jackfruit and- my favorite- pastillas de leche (a sweet concoction made from carabao's milk and granulated sugar) from Bulacan Sweets, followed by Tito Doc and Tita Violy who brought more Western fare, like sweet ham and pasta with white mushroom sauce, from Village Inn in Cabanatuan.
Inang was the sun around whom Tatang, their eight children and many grandchildren orbited. After cooking, she would change into her favorite baro't saya: a white, embroidered shirt with a black, panelled skirt sans the panuelo, making her look like Maria Clara. She often offered me a glass of carabao's milk, saying it was the drink she gave me as a mute infant to loosen my tongue and get me to talk. At night before leaving, beneath a parol made of colored Japanese paper or capiz shells, she would watch her grandchildren sing, dance, and play the piano, revelling in our constellation of talents.
When Tatang passed away, followed by Inang, it was as if a star had been plucked from the sky, dispersing the planets and moons around it. We felt the void caused by their passing. Eventually, my uncles and aunts found that, while it felt different, the gravity of their parents' love remained: our extended family has continued to return to Bukid every December 25th.
To all my friends and loved ones near and far, Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon sa ating lahat! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to us all!
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Thanks to San Miguel Master Chorale and Philharmonic Orchestra for the carol, "Mano Po Ninong, Mano Po Ninang."
Inang was the sun around whom Tatang, their eight children and many grandchildren orbited. After cooking, she would change into her favorite baro't saya: a white, embroidered shirt with a black, panelled skirt sans the panuelo, making her look like Maria Clara. She often offered me a glass of carabao's milk, saying it was the drink she gave me as a mute infant to loosen my tongue and get me to talk. At night before leaving, beneath a parol made of colored Japanese paper or capiz shells, she would watch her grandchildren sing, dance, and play the piano, revelling in our constellation of talents.
When Tatang passed away, followed by Inang, it was as if a star had been plucked from the sky, dispersing the planets and moons around it. We felt the void caused by their passing. Eventually, my uncles and aunts found that, while it felt different, the gravity of their parents' love remained: our extended family has continued to return to Bukid every December 25th.
To all my friends and loved ones near and far, Maligayang Pasko at Manigong Bagong Taon sa ating lahat! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to us all!
Subscribe Free
Add to my Page
Thanks to San Miguel Master Chorale and Philharmonic Orchestra for the carol, "Mano Po Ninong, Mano Po Ninang."
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