IF you belong to the XYZ generation, I urge you to take time to have a conversation with your aging parents and grandparents about their memories of Christmas during their childhood days. Most especially in the places where they grew up, such as the barrios.
Barrio is the old term for a rural village (now barangay). It is the root word of “bariotic” a pejorative, derogatory term used by young urbanites to describe anything that smacks of being provincial, backward, unsophisticated—but I wholeheartedly embrace it when it is used to describe the way Christmas in the province was celebrated in the ’50s and ’60s. For me, a “bariotic” Christmas was most authentic, precisely because it was simple, unsophisticated, and unadorned by artifices.
Ask your boomer lolos and lolas how they made their Christmas trees and many will look nostalgically back to that time when they would fashion Christmas trees from branches of guava trees growing in their backyards.
That’s what we used to do in our household. Then we would brush the branches and twigs with white paint and later put cotton on the twigs to simulate snow. My sisters would then adorn it with silver trimmings recycled from palara or paper foil sourced from empty cigarette packs of Zamba or Camel, or Chesterfield, the popular brands then.
We never bought our parols, which is what city folks do now. My classmates and I learned to make them ourselves during our work education class. Mine were roughly done, as I did not possess the craftsmanship of a natural-born carpenter.
Our crude wooden belen was the handiwork of my tatang. Our figurines of baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph and 3 kings and animals and shepherds were made of paper. We would store them away after Three Kings’ day and then use the same tableaux again, year after year.
My “bariotic” Christmas memories include cool nights, and early dawn masses at the local church, and outside were stalls selling all sorts of native delicacies such as puto bumbong, bibingka, halayang ube and suman.
As a boy, I used to help my Apung Adi and Imang Consa squeeze the milk out of coconut meat using the heavy stone grinder to make gata. This is an ingredient in making maja blanca, ginataan, and other homemade sweet goodies.
Near our house, our neighbor Mang Siano would be roasting a pig for their Noche Buena. In another neighbor’s house, Aling Sion would be mixing her well-loved pancit in a big kaing. Everyone in the neighborhood was welcome to partake of the food in their respective homes. That was the best thing about the “bariotic” Christmas I remember.
Nothing is better than music to bring me back to that time. Every year, when the Christmas season is upon us, I would play traditional native carols, not the ones sung by modern-day crooners and warblers, specially those with jazzy renditions. They are like harana songs, with kundiman-like melodies and pace. Some have that polka beat, or rhythm of a waltz.
Call me old-fashioned or a sentimental fool but I love listening to carols sung by the Mabuhay singers, Cenon Lagman, Sylvia La Torre and other crooners who belong to the oldies but goodies category.
More than just making me feel nostalgic, they have more personal resonance not just in terms of melody, but also in the message conveyed by the Tagalog lyrics.
One of my all time favorites is “Himig ng Pasko” written by Serapio Y. Ramos in the 1960s. The opening line evokes the cool nights of December, when the amihan winds coming unimpeded from the vast empty rice fields would sweep into the barrios. They evoke the tranquil times and the simple joy felt by kids growing up in remote towns and rural areas.
Malamig ang simoy ng hangin
Kay saya ng bawat damdamin
Ang tibok ng puso sa dibdib
Para bang hulog na ng langit
Himig Pasko’y laganap
Mayro’ng sigla ang lahat
Wala ang kalungkutan
Lubos ang kasayahan
Himig ng Pasko’y umiiral
Sa loob ng bawat tahanan
Masaya ang mga tanawin
May awit ang simoy ng hangin.
This particular song never fails to tug at my heart, knowing those times will never come back, considering the rapid urbanization of our hometowns.
I remember that on Christmas day, my parents would take us to our grandmother (our lolo was long gone) and pay our respect and ask for her blessing. It came before anything, even before we would make the rounds to see our baptismal godparents and make mano po. This tradition is captured in the lyrics of this upbeat Christmas song:
Mano po Ninong, mano po Ninang
Narito kami ngayon
Humahalik sa inyong kamay
Salamat Ninong, salamat Ninang
Sa aginaldo pong inyong ibinibigay
Why am I pining for those times? Why am I wishing for a “bariotic” Christmas?
Perhaps, it’s because at this point in my life, I want to go back to the essentials. I want a Christmas without the artificial “palamuti” that we have wrapped around the way we celebrate it now.
Make it a Christmas that reminds us of the sweetness of home and family. In this pandemic, the family is the most precious gift we have. It’s a blessing to have an intact family.
As we gather together at the Noche Buena table, let us put down and shut down our smartphones, tablets and other gadgets that isolate us from each other. Just for this Christmas, let us detach ourselves from the virtual world and make this Christmas a real celebration of family and of unity.
I hope that godchildren can make time and effort to visit the homes of respective godparents to receive blessings in the form of valuable guidance and counsel.
Lastly, don’t forget grandparents. For some seniors, the holidays are a very lonely time. They feel forgotten. This Christmas, I encourage all grandchildren to gather around their living lolos and lolas and ask them to reminisce about Christmas in a simpler time.
Always keep the essential meaning of Christmas in mind. A simple “bariotic” celebration with the family is what everyone needs during these times.