by AA Patawaran, Manila Bulletin
Whatever happened to Father Christmas in England in 1647 would never happen in the Philippines, no matter how dire the circumstances get—poverty, disaster, a bank run, a civil war, or a revolution.
In 1647, right after the English Civil War and the Church of England gave way to a Presbytarian system, the English parliament passed an ordinance declaring festivities over Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun a taboo, outlawing decorations, celebrations both public and private, and even shops closing up in observance of holy days.
As a result, though all of the kingdoms of England, which at the time included Wales and Ireland, were up in arms, Father Christmas who, as the Paris Review described him, was once “rotund from indulgence,” embodying “Christmas as an open-hearted festival of feasts and frolics,” grew “skinny, mournful, and lonely, depressed by the grim fate that had befallen the most magical time of year.”
…hens and chickens were saying noisy farewells amid the rapid clatter of knives and chopping blocks and the sputtering of lard in frying pans. There was a promise of good eating in the succulent smells of stews and sweetmeats that reached out to the streets. —El Filibusterismo, Jose Rizal
Or he might have migrated to the Philippine islands, whose Christianization by their Spanish colonizers in the 1700s was well under way. Noche Buena (Nochebuena back in the day, one word, as it still is, referring to the Christmas Eve dinner, in Spain) is Spanish for “a night of goodness,” but Noche Buena traces its roots to the early mornings, shortly after midnight, when the Filipinos broke their Christmas Eve fast.
Back then, as ordered by the Spanish friars, it was customary—if not mandatory—to go on a fast the whole day on Christmas Eve. In this writer’s humble opinion, it was in honor of the struggles of the Holy Family to look for a suitable place for the Christ Child to be born in. Alas, there was no room at the inn, so Jesus was born in a manger filled with hay, a long, open trough for horses or cattle to eat from in the cold, smelly stables.
Before they could break their fast, the Filipinos under over 300 years of Spanish occupation, would end the day at the Misa de Gallo, and you can imagine how famished they must have been that even the sacramental bread must have tasted to them like manna from heaven or like cake from Marie Antoinette. But then the mass would be over, and the fast was ended, and it was time to eat at last.
Hence, the Noche Buena. And maybe this is why, just outside the church, anywhere across the Philippines, where a Catholic stone church stood, which then—as now—meant every town, the churchgoers, emerging from the midnight mass, or even the early morning masses of Simbang Gabi, and keen on satiating their day-long hunger and their enormous appetites, would expect stalls and kiosks peddling bibingka, puto bumbong, puto with tsokolate, kutsinta, biko, palitaw, and suman.
These rice cakes, although they carry traces of our foreign interactions on the trade routes of our pre-colonial past, whether in terms of techniques or transplanted ingredients, are our very own contribution to the celebration of Christmas steeped in tradition and cultural significance. All the carbs waiting on the churchyards after the night masses of Yuletide in the Philippines would have been enough to keep Father Christmas happy-plump and rosy-cheeked despite the Puritan revolution of the 17th century, not to mention less depressed because, you know, carbs boost the brain’s release of serotonin, the chemical that keeps us calm and satisfied.
But there is more to the Philippine Christmas feast than the stuffed turkey, Brussels sprouts with chestnuts and sage, and roast potatoes Father Christmas was familiar with in the United Kingdom, of which we might have had a taste in the 20 months the British occupied the Philippines from 1762 to 1764.
Ours is a hodgepodge of influences drawn from over three centuries of Spanish rule, the hold the Americans have had—still do?—over us since 1898, when Spain sold us to them for only $120 million, and, long before we were named the Philippines after Spain’s King Philip II, centuries worth of trade and cultural exchanges with the Arabs, the Chinese, the Indians, the Javanese, the Japanese, and more.
Mementos of our major colonial experiences with the Spanish and the Americans still find their way to our Christmas celebrations. From Spain, the Filipinos have incorporated the likes of jamon de bola, stuffings like relleno, embutido, galantina, and morcon, lechon or cochinillo, lengua, callos, chorizo, paella, and the ubiquitous queso de bola or Dutch Edam cheese, a staple on vessels sailing on world expeditions across uncharted waters, such as the Magellan flotilla and the Spanish galleon. The Americans, in turn, threw in pies, Spam, Vienna sausage, and fruitcake. The Noche Buena table on every Filipino home is a journey across the world, packed with history and the forging and cutting of ties between nations.
But there are also regional variations within the Philippines. Bibingka, for instance, has many variants, such as bibingkang Mandaue that, unique to Mandaue, Cebu, was traditionally made with tuba to give it a kick. In Cavite, it is called bibingkoy, which comes with a filling of sweetened mongo and served with langka, sago, and coconut cream. In Davao, there is durian bibingka and, in Eastern Samar, what they call salukara is bibingka in the shape of a pancake.
There are many kinds of suman too, such as black rice suman from Baler, Aurora, suman sa lihiya in Laguna, suman moron in Leyte, and suman budbud in Dumaguete. In Pangasinan, it’s called tupig and in Bulacan pinipig and, in Cebu, it is best eaten with ripe mangoes.
The Philippines is an archipelago of 7,641 islands and many regions boasting of their own unique cultures, geophysical traits, and resources. Coupled with the influx of colonial influences as well as the yields of the Filipino diaspora scattered all over the planet, all that find expression not only in Fiipinos’ day-to-day living, but especially in occasions important to us, like Christmas.
Father Christmas should have learned an important lesson in 1647. Although it had been a dismal failure, they did cancel Christmas in the UK and they can attempt to do so again, as they have in other places in the world.
In the Philippines, however, nothing can stop Christmas, not a pandemic like this one that we have been grappling with for two years, not even all the health bulletins warning against obesity and excessive eating.
Nothing at all can ever cancel Christmas in the Philippines.
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