May 3 is Bgy. Tiring's fiesta. It follows the fiestas of Bgy. Talanghauan (May 1) and Bgy. Pamuringao-Garrido (May 2). Tomorrow, May 4, is Bgy. Duyan-duyan's fiesta. In the sleepy town of Cabatuan, famous for being the repository of the thunderous noise and the toxic fumes of the jet planes landing and taking off from the New Iloilo Airport, everybody is looking forward to the fiesta month of May as a month to socialize and to gain extra pounds for free, in preparation for the lean months of tag-kiriwi or tag-gurutom. Such is the fun of the fiesta month. In the morning, everybody rushes out to pig out on cornucopias of catered or home-cooked dishes. In the afternoon, many rush to buy Diatabs; or complain of dizziness or difficulty in breathing. It could be heatstroke. Or worse, high blood or heartstroke due to uncontrolled intake of estofado, sarciado, letchon,a cocktail of softdrinks and a hodgepodge of salads laced with artificial flavorings. But still many go home with smiles on their faces. As their horde of children and pet dogs walk after them, with bloated tummies and pork oil stains on their lips. The day has passed with free delicious foods only a fiesta could offer. Ahhh... life is good when food is free. Tomorrow there's another fiesta. Makalibre na naman.
I was in my farm checking the soil whether it was ready for plowing after a heavy downpour. (PAGASA announced that it seeded the clouds to produce rains. The seering El Nino dried the rivers and lack of water had become a serious issue among local politicians in this election season.) I thought that the soil was not ready. Indi na lang ako mag-arado. Much to the glee of my friends who had cajoled me since yesterday to go with them to attend Tiring's patronal fiesta. To my friends' minds, fiestas are the best legacy of Spain to the Philippines. I donned my shorts and tshirt with a portrait and signature of Jose Rizal emblazoned in front. I wondered if my friends really liked to bring me to the fiesta or they just wanted a free ride in my airconned car. Grabe gid man kainit ang panahon.
I grudgingly went with the group. They planned to go to the house of a friend of a friend of a friend of my cousin. In our impoverished village, a friend of a friend to the nth degree is also a friend worth sharing your house and your meals. I went with them because they assured me that we were going to the house of a friend (to the nth degree) which was located across the river and about a kilometer from the main road. A virtual adventure. Sounded exciting. And I liked going to fiestas where food is served not on metal chafing dishes but on platters or bowls used during family meals. Daw kilala ka gid sang tagbalay because with ordinary serving dishes, the ambiance is homey and personal. With chafing dishes, I feel like, nagakaon ako sa himatayan. Or in commercial establishments. (Even if I pay in restaurants, at least aircon. Wala heatstroke. And I can complain endlessly about the food with too much salt, too much oil, too much eVAT. And which I can not do in fiestas where the host could have probably nangutang pa sa bombay para mapakaon ang mga estranghero kapareho ko.) Therefore, during fiestas I avoid the fancy houses along the roads. Just like in Tiring. Almost always, in these fancy houses, the hosts display their chafing dishes as if they use these everyday at mealtime, even if their dapli is baringon, pinakas, o pinamarhan nga sapsap.
It was really a fiesta ambiance in Tiring. The road was festooned with colored banderitas and streamers to welcome guests to the fiesta. Both sides of the main hi-way were converted into parking areas. The air smelled of letchon baboy.
We turned towards the river. We had a hard time passing through because of the parked vehicles beside the narrow dirt road. And when I got near the river, we just parked our vehicles on the bank as we were sure no flood would happen that day. It was nearly 1 pm and was scorchingly hot. Grabe. It was good that this place was far from the other houses and we seemed to be the only souls lost in this part of Tiring. I didn't like the sight of us mature people braving the heat, the dust and the far distance just to eat in the fiesta. Mga mal-am na pero dalok pa. Can we not afford the food and therefore we went through this hardship just to have a taste of it? But when I see the young ones, walking in groups even under the noonday heat, daw nami tanda lantawon. Daw bagay kananda maglagaw, ma-miesta kag mag-enjoy. Pero ang mga mal-am, daw mga dalok lantawon.
We parked our cars beside the river. And we negotiated the far distance to our destination as if this was our only chance to taste fiesta food. But we were relieved by the thought that nobody knew us and we were the only souls lost in this part of Tiring.
Finally, we arrived in our destination. We were introduced to the hosts and they were very accomodating. They regarded us as friends they've known for years even if we've just met. Di ba we were friends to the nth degree? When the other guests before us finished eating, the hosts offered us plates and usherred us to the dining table laden with food. And, yes, there was no chafing dish. I felt I was part of the family. I learned from the hosts that this place was already Guiboangan, a barangay adjacent to Tiring. But eversince they came to realize it, they were making handa during Tiring's fiesta and not during Guiboangan's fiesta.
It was easy to identify a house with lots of handa by looking at its backyard.
This house was our destination. We were given a warm welcome by our hosts.
We ate heartily as if we had not eaten breakfast. And as if we also ate our fill for dinner. Mga dalok gid. Then as we were about to finish eating, we were given glasses of punch with freshly squeezed orange juice. May pulp bits pa. When we were through, another batch of newly arrived guests took their positions beside the table. And the platters and bowls were refilled with putahe from a nearby big caldero. It was already past 2pm and it seemed that the stream of manugpamiesta had not abated. Grabe. The humble house had more handa than we ever had in our house during Jaro fiesta!
Estofado.
KBL - kadyos, baboy, langka
Valenciana
Morcon
Ice drop, or belbit, sold in front of the house. It seemed that the ambulant vendor was also a guest in the house. And while enjoying a free meal, he too earned from selling belbit to other guests. Practical and enterprising, indeed.
I went out of the house to have fresh air. You don't know what's going to explode from the guts of newy fed people. Especially people who ate as if they were born solely to eat. The humble house could just explode with hydrogen sulfide!
Outside the house there were still many guests. It seemed they came ahead of us and they'd already eaten but were just resting and waiting for the next wave of famishness so they could again attack the bottomless servings on the dining table.
Outside the house, guests were still arriving. While others were resting and waiting for another serving.
Some guests were also leaving. Possibly they were going to other houses of their friends to the nth degree. And taste a different set of dishes. And compare who had the best valenciana, the best letchon, the best salad. Or they could use the comfort room to unload their guts for another chance at pigging out.
As we went home, we passed by happy old people going home. And happy young people resting under trees and without intention of going home. To them it was still happy hour. Groups of happy men huddled in front of houses with bottles of beer and cheap liquor. I think this is the spirit of a fiesta - just be happy irregardless of your status in life. Be happy. Tomorrow will take care of itself.
It was still early but we headed straight home. Wala pa mga hubog. So it was safer. When I was a kid, after a fiesta, news would filter out nga may napatay sa fiesta. Kon waay napatay, indi sadya ang fiesta. That was my belief then. And today the fiesta was really masadya. Halaaaa....
There used to be a hanging bridge in this place. It was very useful to the residents of Tiring and Guiboangan. But the floods brought by typhoon Frank destroyed the bridge. Now, the people are using this tied bamboo poles that float when the water rises.
Living driftwood.
Top, serisa or aratiles. Above and below, kamonsil or camachille. Both fruits abound in the riverbank.
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