Wednesday, January 14, 2009 Wenceslao: Fiesta Señor and what we are By Bong O. Wenceslao Candid Thoughts
YOU know the cultural aspect of the Fiesta Señor, the Sinulog, is on when you get stuck in traffic at the south highway. That route leads you to P. del Rosario St., which crosses Osmeña Blvd., the road near Sinulog’s home, the Cebu City Sports Center. We were caught in that traffic mess Friday and I had to walk to the office a kilometer away.
I have actually given up on the City Traffic Operations Management (Citom) in occasions like this. Our suki cab driver told me that night that “sakay unta pero grabeha sa trapik.” Traffic gridlock was a problem within a few kilometers radius of the Sinulog activity site. A consolation there is that it has always been a mess for Citom every fiesta.
Another sign of the Sinulog season is the music heard seemingly everywhere. It used to be Mike Hanopol’s “Sugod na sa Sinulog, kitang tanan mag-pit-Senyor” (“Sugod na…” sounds awkward as Cebuano translation of the Tagalog “Tayo na…). But what one hears frequently now is the official one, done by drum and bugle corps, with a faster beat.
The music, heard from a blaring sound system of a mall while one is on board a passenger jeepney that moves a meter every ten minutes makes you conjure images of girls in shiny dresses waving the image of the Sto. Niño up, down and side to side. Add to that the ati-atihan-inspired “Sinulog, isyagit ug kusog” theme and your mind rocks.
It’s called aggressive campaign a.k.a. commercialization. That, plus those ads disguised as Sto. Niño decorations along Osmeña Blvd. and Fuente Osmeña are actually viruses meant for people to catch the Sinulog fever and eventually buy Sinulog products and spend on Sinulog gigs (no, I’m not trying to be a killjoy, I’m just being objective).
I live in far-off Minglanilla now, so life is different from when we were in Sitio Kawayan (the place where I grew up) or Inayawan (the place where my wife grew up). And so last Sunday we talked about attending mass at the Basilica like we used to do in the past many fiestas. We brushed off the idea after considering the hassles for our kids.
Admittedly, it is the wife who does the prodding, with us ending up struggling mightily with the crowd for the fiesta masses at the Basilica, joining a crowded and long procession, etc. But there’s a sense of satisfaction there, like what one feels despite sitting the whole day in a loaded grandstand for the Sinulog grand parade culminating activity.
And don’t forget the gozos. There’s always that strange feeling inside upon seeing thousands of Catholic faithful at the Basilica raise their hands in the direction of the Sto. Niño image as they sing, “Kanamo malooy ka unta, nga kanimo nangilaba.” The lyrics are old Cebuano (one that Bisrock artists have still to master) but the devotion is timeless.
I remember one of those discussions in Poro town when I joined a team of anthropologists that conducted an archaeological survey on the area many years ago. As talk drifted to our seeming love for anarchy, one of them noted our tendency to be critical of it and compare it to a western model. But he said the behavior could be what we are.
I was prodded to recall this after the recently held annual commotion that is the feast of the Black Nazarene in Quiapo and as the feast of the Sto. Niño reaches its climax. The anarchy always tends to play out in these celebrations and yet the faithful seem to thrive in it or despite of it. Maybe that’s what we really are.
(khanwens@yahoo.com/ my blog: cebuano.wordpress.com)
