Saturday, July 07, 2007 Southern Lady peels off her ‘patadyong By Ober Khok
THE road going south is a road I haven’t traveled by for a long time now.
So when I read news about the town of Carcar becoming a city, I planted a wooden chair under the mango tree in the garden (I wish it were an oak tree) and drove down memory lane.
Of the 13,483 registered voters in Carcar, 11,699 wanted the town to become a city and everything that’s part and parcel of cityhood, including pesky traffic and air pollution.
A tiny 1,748 wanted Kabkaban (Carcar’s old name) to remain just a town proud of its delicacies (like ampaw or puffed rice molded into sweet bricks), footwear industry, and a way of life evoking a time warp to the 1590s when it was founded.
Carcar is a woman proud of her children, too. She gave us Martino Abellana and Romul Galicano, painters; Dr. Ramon Abellana, a composer and sculptor; Archbishop Teofilo Camomot; and Sheryn Regis, a singer.
The Southern Lady has just peeled off her wrap-around patadyong (checkered woven cloth, a heritage craft), lace kimona top, and unclasped the ivory barrette to liberate her long hair. For sure she’ll get a spikier haircut to match the quick pace of city life and her status as a woman of the 21st century.
She will lose no time to put on the costume of today’s young things: designer denims and Empire-cut paisley blouse.
Between putting on makeup and stepping out of her old mold, there is still time to think of what she wants to do with her old buildings, and how she wants the new ones to look. In short, how she wants the world to see her.
Roy (my stateside cousin) once took his vacation in Boston, Massachusetts, USA, where he saw the Old State House, a historic building at the intersection of Washington and State Streets.
“The House shows how the city matured, and how it developed itself around its treasure. Ever since it was established in 1713, the city’s face had changed a lot but the local leaders allowed that building to stay along with the other vintage structures nearby.
“Modern skyscrapers fence the House, making it stick out, not like a sore thumb, but as a testament of a city that chose to preserve its soul.”
Carcar is known for vendors who crowd buses that circle the Plaza Rotunda (public square) to sell delicacies, shouting: “Paw, ampaw” or “Ron, chicharon” (deep-fried pork skin).
The white gazebo at the plaza’s center has a roof decorated with statues that represent America guiding the Philippines. The other ones in the plaza symbolize Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao.
I’m wondering if the ritual greeting—”Paw, ampaw”—the refrains of a town-gone-city will be the first to go, followed by the fall of the gazebo.
However, if it rises to the challenge, the new city can prove it can hold on to its soul on its way to progress. That would be a delicious prospect—sweet as the bocarillo (candied coconut) and crispy as the chicharon made by Kabkaban’s unknown craftsmen.
