Nativity scenes, puto bumbong, bibingka, papel de Japon parols swaying in the chilly December breeze, and troops of little kids caroling in the neighborhood or on busy street intersections — warm, fuzzy, postcard images of Filipino Christmases past. For most of us, they are now mere images in Christmas jpegs, memes, and Christmas cards that are now rarely used or faint memories of childhood.
Where have they all gone? At present, we are assaulted by the crush of commercialism during this season. As urbanites are trapped in the swell of materialism, Christmas is quickly turning into a shopping fest, and of hundreds — if not millions — of tiny lights wrapping trees and buildings in the business districts, and mansions in posh residential areas that remind us to buy, buy and buy. No sooner do we get our bonuses than the kilometric shopping list promptly brings our short-lived feelings of prosperity back to terra firma and the sobering realization that we have dug ourselves deeper in debt come the new year.
In many provincial towns and villages, the same pressures affect every parent and head of the family, albeit to a lesser degree. Kids no longer expect Santa to deliver a toy drum set or pretty, dainty clothes. Now they want PlayStations and cell phones. Barring that, they opt for “orig” Nikes and Adidas gear, none of that imitation stuff. But, as a mirror of the ebb and flow of our current political and economic fortunes, Christmas is influenced and defined by the events and developments around us.
About 10 years ago, it was considered capitalistic heresy for any store to offer discounts and promotions during the peak-buying season of the year. Today, sales of “up to 70 percent discount” seem to be the flavor even among the most established brands of supermalls all over the country. It seems that the appropriate question to ask these days is: What isn’t on sale?
Just over two weeks before Christmas day, strolling through one of the stores of a large mall, I find salesladies and cashiers staring at empty spaces, waiting for customers. In the men’s section, various stalls for well-known brands have one or two browsers apiece, and a couple of buyers are in line at the cashier. “Pumi-pick-up na rin ho ang benta ngayon (Sales are picking up),” says Cashier No. 5. “Pero mahina po talaga, compared sa mga nakaraang Pasko (but it’s really weak compared to past Christmases),” she adds wryly.?
The phenomenon to explain this apparent behavior is the tiangge, where bargain-basement prices are luring budget-conscious shoppers to part with their hard-earned money. Originally the local version of the flea market, the tiangge has evolved into a no-frills bargain market offering everything from bonsai plants to woven fabrics and figurines from around the world. There are, of course, the staple racks of cheap clothes and shoes — including the obligatory fakes — bags, electronic equipment, Christmas decor, and seemingly endless arrays of stocking stuffers.
In almost all the urban centers in the country, these “mini-Divisorias” are raking it in, to the consternation of the mall-based stores. I know of a mother of four who braves rain, traffic, pickpockets and the occasional sex pervert just to get to Divisoria as soon as she gets her hubby’s bonus — usually released the first week of December. There along the sidewalks that ring the large shopping malls, she swims through a flood of fellow shoppers like a butterfly through a field of flowers, alighting from one spread to another (or cubicle to cubicle), browsing through piles of clothing, picking through hanging displays of merchandise, as she ticks off the mental list of items she needs. “Ang laki ho ng natitipid kapag sa Divisoria bumili. Sa mga malls, times three na ang presyo (You can save a lot if you buy at Divisoria. At the malls the prices are times three),” says this mother of four.
The socialists and communists who decry the inequity inherent in capitalism need only scan the crowd that flocks to these tiangges to see that this is the great equalizer: the perfumed upper-middle-classer elbow to elbow with the simple, duster-clad lower-classer — actually, more like body-slamming each other — fighting for the best deal. Not surprisingly, we have allowed ourselves to be carried along by this tsunami of commercialism, heeding the call of capitalism to spend, spend, spend notwithstanding that the runaway prices of goods and the shrinking value of the peso present a future cataclysmic collision (poor Juan de la Cruz, he gets caught in the middle of it all). Every year, we are fooled into optimistic abandon by the spike in dollar remittances by overseas Filipino workers, our modern-day heroes. But the occasion for revelry is a very temporary one. Come the new year, we sink back into a somber and questioning mood, wondering where it all went.?
We cannot blame big business for this materialism. If they have been able to conjure up various excuses for consumers to spend like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Grandparents’ Day, Valentine’s Day, Halloween (and are most likely going to come up with others, such as Pet Dog’s Day, Neighbor’s Day, Uncles and Aunts Day, and so on and so forth), why not maximize their chances during the biggest opportunity to make hay, which is Christmas????
So it is that the happiest people on earth get into the spirit of the season. So it is that we celebrate the Christmas holiday trapped in hopeless traffic jams, equally hopeless shoppers’ congestion in department stores (or, more appropriately, in tiangges), and equally hopeless doses of unhealthy partying and lechon-eating — a national bacchanalia if there ever was one.?It is the season when we forget about the candidates for the 2016 presidential election, our MRT woes, and the tanim bala concerns. It is the season when we look to our own, to our families and within ourselves.
The materialistic frenzy is really the external (and somewhat misplaced) manifestation of our exuberance during this holiest of feasts. Deep within, there is a deep spirituality that commands a renewal, not only of our behavior but also of our ways of thinking. It is at this time that the “grinches” and ornery bosses actually become a bit more considerate, and sometimes, even grudgingly, smile at their employees. Sure, they grouch about lost business and below-quota performances, but nonetheless, they almost act as if they were kinder. And neighborhoods seem a bit quieter, if not more peaceful. Friends and acquaintances are more likely to nod at each other, if not actually greet each other.
Gift giving elicits copious amounts of gratitude and compliments. Such heartwarming images indeed capture the essence of Christmas as we Filipinos celebrate it. For those lucky to live lives of relative comfort and security, such postcard-perfect scenes reassure that happiness can be found, no matter how tough and challenging the times have become. We are able to transcend the frailties and imperfections of our humanity, even for a brief moment, when we come together to celebrate a historical moment of perfection. That essential part of Christmas will never be on sale.
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