Semana Santa

In the past up to about the early 80's, Semana Santa or Holy Week was an important family affair during summers in Silay.  It would be that time of year when families or children based or studying in Manila and other places would come home for vacation and family reunions. The processions during Holy Thursday and Good Friday were en grande or big events as prominent families would be actively participating either as carosa owners or plain marchers.  It was always a big privilege when  a male member of the family would be asked to be one of the escorts of the Santo Entierro.  To be invited as part of the cortege was an affirmation that you are a respected member of Silay society, so you can imagine how some people would actually lobby to be included in the list.  Holy Week also meant new dresses and/or shoes to be used during the processions since marchers were expected to be wearing their Sunday's best.  The route would always pass by the big (now ancestral) houses in Cinco de Noviembre and Mckinley Streets where family members would sit and gather in their verandas or balconies with a lighted candle to watch and comment on the procession and the participants.  We would wave or give a little nod when we pass by these houses, a  practice not unlike to paying homage to royalty or heads of states.  What is ironic is that what used to be fun and exciting then, strikes me now as having really nothing to do with the essence of Holy Week.   Then everything changed in the late 70's...a new parish priest who also belonged to a prominent Negrense family was assigned to Silay. He "revolutionized" the parish, instituting many positive reforms and practices that have stayed to this very day. He broke down class barriers and for the first time, rich and poor came as one in all church-related events. When I came home in 1980 after studying in Manila for several years, gone was the pomp and pageantry of Holy Week processions...most of the carosas were replaced by actual people performing on moving platforms which I presume was his way of bringing Christ's sacrifice closer to the people.  Today, many of those antique carosas are back but because of this one priest's dynamic ways and quest to communicate what real Christian faith looks like to the people of Silay,  the Holy Week activities remains focused on its real essence, which is to reflect on the meaning of Jesus' death on the cross.

Monte, Mahjong, Panguingue Atbp...

When I recall my growing-up years in Silay, one thing stands out...gambling.  As a young child up to my early teen years, I was exposed to Monte, a Spanish gambling card game, Panguingue, a rummy variation using Spanish cards or Baraja Español and of course, Mahjong. This was at a time when gambling was not yet illegal and my grandfather saw that he could earn money from it since he never gambled himself. I was fascinated with the copas, bastos, oros and espadas and would eagerly help my grandmother put docu cement (this has long disappeared from the Philippine market) on the side of the barajas to preserve the edges. I remember seeing men sitting in the monte table who were identified as "personal"..although to this day, I do not know what their roles were. In this house and my grand-aunt's house next door, I saw properties exchanging owners and fortunes lost. I remember someone arriving in a car and leaving on foot since he put up his vehicle as collateral.  After a few years and some ruined lives, government put a stop to monte and that was that for my lolo.  Of course, my lolas continued their panguingues and mahjongs with close friends but limited only to afternoons and family gatherings.  Still other houses both in and outside our neighborhood continued to hold these monte sessions which by then have become more uncontrollable and contentious since it was opened to the public unlike ours which was by invitation only. One weekend, while my lola was having one of her recreational sessions with her amigas, rapid gunfire was heard!  We all ran into the bathroom and huddled together.  Later we learned that one of the gamblers (a policeman) was losing and in his rage walked out and started shooting his gun in the air. Since it was happening a few houses away from ours, it was scary to say the least. But in spite of this environment, neither our parents nor us learned how to play any of these games.  And we are all the better for it.  My one regret is that I should have asked my lola for those fascinating barajas...now-a-days these are rare finds and I could probably make money out of them today ;)

First Impression

There have been so many things written about Silay City, it's history and origins that I thought to myself...do I have a different perspective about my city? The Silay in my consciousness began in the early 60's.  We lived in Manila from 1956 until mid-1959 when my father was asked by his uncle, the late Jose "Pitong" Ledesma to come home to run for public office. I was just a toddler then and my mom was pregnant with their second child (my brother) and I do not remember anything about the move back, nor my father winning a seat as councilor (he was the only one among his party who won).  I have good memories of the many people coming to and from my grandfather's house and the many stories I would listen to, unbeknownst to the adults around me. I remember as a child up to my early teen years how aristocratic Silay society was...the gap between the haves and the have nots was not just palpable but accepted as the norm. Even the church seating was not spared from class distinction. The old rich, the landed, the buena familia sit from the right side of the altar during mass, while the working class, the common people and the nouveau riche took the left side with the middle aisle as the dividing line.  One personal experience of mine was when I saw someone, probably a visitor to Silay take a seat in one of the front aisle pews.  Soon after, a maiden aunt (several times removed) who regularly occupies that seat arrived and haughtily told the occupant to remove herself and transfer to another pew!  My young mind absorbed all these behavior prompting me to ask loudly enough if "Tita" owns the seat...of course, my mom shushed me and that was that.  Later on as a young adult, I went back to that seat just to check if there was a bottom imprint of my aristocratic relative for her to own it...hahaha.   Of course, now-a-days this is no longer true.  After the 70's and due to a reform-minded parish priest, these attitudes and behavior came crashing down to earth so that today, stories like this are unheard of and may even be unbelievable.