Christmas in Cubao, Pasko sa San Francisco
(This essay was first published in December 2010.)
SAN FRANCISCO—Our Christmas tree was made of wood, wire and strips of glittering green foil paper.
Once December arrives, I start pestering Papa to set it up. For once the tree is up I knew that the Christmas season has begun. The air will get cooler. The carolers will start coming.
In our neighborhood in Cubao, parols, many of them with blinking lights of different colors and patterns, will soon be out for all to see and enjoy.
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Sa Bay Area, ang Krismas tree e talagang tree, talagang puno.
Kelangang bumili taun-taon at minsan lang gagamitin. Pupunta ka sa palengke ng mga puno, ituturo ang gusto mo, tapos puputulin ng katiwala at isasakay na sa kotse mo.
Kaya pag nagsimula ka nang makakita ng mga kotse sa freeway na may mga nakataling puno sa bubong, ibig sabihin pasko na.
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It happens slowly.
I’d come home from the last day of school and there’d be one or two more gifts at the base of our tree. After serving as an altar boy in the early morning mass at Immaculate Concepcion church, I’d walk home, breathing in the Christmas air, greeting playmates and neighbors and seeing all the new decorations at their houses — and there’d be another gift.
The pile would get bigger and bigger until Christmas eve.
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Sa isang liblib na lugar, nabalitaan naming mura ang pinagbibiling Krismas tree.
Maganda ring pasyalan ang lugar, kaya dinayo namin ni Mara. Noong papasok na kami sa tarangkahan, andoon ang katiwala, nakangiti.
May iniabot sa akin — isang lagare.
“Oh, so we have to do the cutting?” tanong ko.
“Yep,” sabi niya.
Mas lumawak ang ngiti niya. Bumunot siya ng ibang lagare, at sabi sa ‘kin, “Since you’re obviously a rookie, you better use this.”
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None of us could really sing. But singing well wasn’t really the point.
So long as we had an instrument or two we didn’t sound that bad, caroling from house to house around our small world in Cubao. The most popular instrument was the improvised shaker made from metal soft-drink caps. Sometimes, we had a drum, which was really just a big can covered with a plastic sheet.
But no one really cared how awful we sounded, or that our singing sometimes didn’t really make any sense:
“Dyingel bel, dyingel bel dyingel oldawey,
“O wat pan da restawran
“En a wanhorsopen sley, hey!”
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Ang kinakatakutan ko tuwing bumibili ng Krismas tree e ang biglang mahulog ang puno habang nagmamaneho sa freeway. Awa ng Diyos, di pa nangyari ito.
Isa pang pinag-iingatan ko e ang pag-alaga sa puno mismo. Buhay kasi ang Krismas tree. Kaya kelangan ng tubig. Kaya laging may nakakabit na lagyanan ng tubig sa ilalalim nito. Kung wala ito, magiging tuyo ang puno. Puwedeng pagsimulan ng sunog.
Praning daw ako sabi ng asawa ko.
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It wasn’t much of a department store. But during Christmas, C.O.D. in Cubao was a special place, even magical. Its annual Christmas display featured moving colorful figures and fancy decorations.
It was always a high point of the season. My friends and I would join the evening crowd to watch the show, sometimes while snacking on roasted pusit and fishballs sold on the street.
That tradition has ended, which is sad.
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Sa Union Square sa San Francisco, nakatayo ang isa sa pinakamalaking Krismas tree sa Bay Area. Napakatangkad nito, balot ng mga ilaw at palamuti.
Pero mas matangkad ang monumento sa tabi. Ang Union Square Monument ay palatandaan ng paglusob ng US sa Pilipinas noong 1898.
Tinuro ko ito sa panganay ko isang hapon. Tahimik na binasa ni Paolo ang paliwanag sa paanan ng monumento. Tapos lumingon kami sa malaking puno sa tabi.
“How did they bring it here?” tanong niya.
“Truck,” sabi ko, habang pareho kaming nakatingala sa punong gahigante, na imposibleng itali sa bubong ng kotse.
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Growing up in Cubao, Christmas meant food. Lots of it.
From chicken macaroni salad to pork barbecue sticks. Kare-kare, pansit bihon, pansit Malabon, roasted chicken.
But what am I talking about? It’s like that year-round in the Philippines. We just need an excuse to party. The only difference during Christmas is our old tree made of wood, wire, and glittering green paper. And all that great stuff beneath it.
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Hindi puti ang Pasko sa Bay Area.
Okay ‘yon dahil ayaw ko talaga ng snow. Isipin lang ang magpala ng snow sa harap ng bahay e nakakapagod na. Sa mga anak ko, ang White Christmas e sa TV lang o sa libro o sa Internet. Tulad ko noong bata ako.
Tulad ko rin , ang pinakamasayang bahagi ng Pasko para sa kanila ay ang mga regalo. Pag nakatayo na ang Krismas tree, at patong patong na ang mga regalo, sisimple na ang dalawa para hulaan kung ano ang mga matatanggap nila.
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I didn’t really believe in Santa Claus as a child.
I still wonder why that was the case — why I never bought into the story of a big dude with a white beard who goes around the world giving good children gifts. The only reason I can think of now is this: We didn’t have a chimney. No one did in Cubao. So how in the world would Santa be able to come in to our house?
I believed in ninongs at ninangs, and uncles and aunties, and my parents, of course. And I did believe in the Three Kings, which is kind of odd, since they enter the scene as the Christmas season is coming to a close.
Maybe because they were supposed to be more colorfully dressed.
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Lumaki ang panganay kong naniniwala kay Santa Claus.
Noong mas bata siya, pagsapit ng umaga ng Pasko, babangon si Paolo nang napakaaga. Makikita niyang naubos ang mga cookies at gatas na inihanda niya para kay Santa. Tapos, maglalakihan ang mga mata pagkita sa malaking regalong iniwan ng bisita noong gabi.
“He was here, Tatay!”
Pero nitong mga nakaraang taon nagbago na ito.
Sa mga usap-usapan sa eskwela at ng mga kalaro sa lugar namin, napag- isip isip nilang magkakaibigan na mukhang binobola sila ng mga magulang nila.
Kaya isang araw, tinanong na kami ni Paolo, “Okay, tell the truth, he’s not real, is he?”
At syempre inamin na namin ang totoo. Pero batang handa nang magbinata ang panganay ko — handa ng bitawan ang hiwaga ng mamang may puting balbas.
Buti na lang, may isa pang bata sa bahay na naniniwala pa. Patapos pa lang ang Nobyembre, nag abot na sa akin si Anton ng sulat. Padala ko daw agad sa North Pole.
Naisip kong ipadala sa Cubao para ang lolo at lola niya ang pumapel na Santa Claus. Pero kumplikado pa ‘yon. Kami na lang ng nanay niya ang gumimik.
Maligayang Pasko sa inyong lahat! Merry Christmas to all!
(On Twitter @KuwentoPimentel. On Facebook at www.facebook.com/benjamin.pimentel)
