“At the first house, just take a little. Then, at the second, take a little bit more. Repeat, repeat, repeat!” This was the advice given to me by Fr. Julius in preparation for the forthcoming fiesta, a 2 day celebration across the whole city to mark the feast day of the patron saint of Borongan. In this case, we were celebrating the birth of Mary which is observed on September 8th every year.
Arriving into Borongan a little over 10 days ago, there were already signs that the fiesta was approaching. Colourful bunting zigzagged up and down each street, banners of local councillors beamed down over roads wishing ‘Happy Fiesta’ to all those who passed under, and I’m told that the city was starting to get busier and busier with each day in the lead up to the weekend. Singing contests and other such events were also held nightly at the city plaza; all of which were being broadcast live to the homes across the city on the local cable TV station Borongan Catholic TV.
When Sunday morning approached, I was energetic and excited for the festivities which all kicked off with the annual parade of the city’s groups, companies and collectives. Our trainees were represented wearing green and grey Don Bosco Training Centre t-shirts, the staff were all wearing pale blue and we all wore straw hats emblazoned with DON BOSCO across the front just so that the crowds we passed could tell who we were (if the two huge tarpaulins with the Don Bosco Training Centre logo didn’t give it away). After waiting over an hour for the groups ahead of us in the proceedings to pass, we joined the back of the parade a little after 8:00am and began walking the route through the streets of the city.
The sun was blazing in the sky, and everyone was feeling a bit parched. Hoards of onlookers lined the streets, and I was confronted with many stares, giggles and calls of “Hey, man!” due to my white skin making people assume I am American. I think most people were probably wondering who this foreigner was, and were confused how he had even found himself marching in their annual fiesta parade. Throughout many of the experiences I am having out here, I have to sometimes pinch myself; even I wonder how I had found myself marching in their annual fiesta parade.
Following the parade, there was a dancing contest in the plaza with many groups from Borongan and afar taking part. The sun was baking hot, and I have no idea how they managed to dance for so long. The eventual winners came from Cebu and accepted the ₱150,000 (roughly £2,000) prize money, although I am told that this probably would only have just covered the cost of their transport, costumes, training, etc.
By the afternoon and into the following day, the real spirit of the fiesta became clear. It is traditional for every household in the city to open up its doors and provide a veritable feast for all those who enter. Families will invite friends and colleagues to stop by and dine on all sorts of different national dishes and delicacies. Over the course of the two days, I entered eight different households and ate fresh fish, seafood, meats and more. There were plates of rice, noodles and vegetables, as well as plates full of cake and Filipino desserts. My favourite was the “sticky rice” which was compressed rice held together in a palm leaf which had lashings of a sweet, sticky coconut jam poured over. Delicious!
I was taken aback by the effort each and every household put into the fiesta celebrations. It was clear going from one house to the next that the families we were visiting had different household incomes. Yet, in spite of these financial differences, each put just as much effort into providing delicious food for their guests. The fiesta clearly brings people together, and I was able to take advantage of this as I was soon engrossed in great conversation about Filipino culture, politics, and education, to name but a few of the topics we touched upon with people from all different kinds of backgrounds. From feeling very self-conscious walking in the parade the previous morning, I suddenly felt overwhelmed by the welcome and kindness of these strangers. Perhaps all it takes is for one invitation to dispel stereotypes or preconceived notions about the way in which we live, or how we spend our time.
I think our world could take a lesson from this type of welcoming and maybe we should all be challenged to strike up a conversation with the strangers who have moved into our area or offer a helping hand in the street to somebody who looks like they don’t belong. Believe me, from my perspective here in this foreign land, it is appreciated.
I finished the evening of September 8th participating in what can only be described as a national pastime… karaoke! Or, videoke as they like to call it here. As I finished singing what felt like my hundredth song (they kept passing me the songbook and mic, honest!) I began to feel tired and sleepy. It had been a long weekend and I truly felt like I could never eat again. As Tuesday rolled around, I quickly began to realise why exactly it is that the day after the fiesta is also regarded as a day off… I spent the day catching up on sleep and reading my book. What a weekend!